Page 83 of Living on the Edge

My body is like a rocket set to take off, and with each thrust I get a little closer to the edge.

“Fuck. Me. Harder.” I pant out the words, and he complies.

“Angus!” I shriek his name as my orgasm explodes out of me. The back of my head hits the wall but I barely feel it, passion and bliss taking over. His mouth is on mine, and I feel his rasped exclamation as he shoots off inside me. I can feel him pulsing against the walls of my sex, continuing to pump into me until neither of us can move.

“What. The. Fuck.” He finally lowers me to the floor. “Did you hit your head?”

I reach up and gently rub the area that I hit. “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He turns me around and forces me to bend my head so he can look at the affected area. “I don’t see any blood or anything.”

“I’m fine, Angus. Don’t worry.” I wiggle out of his grasp and turn to face him again. “I’m not as fragile as you seem to think I am. I’m a pretty tough cookie. Ruptured eardrum notwithstanding.”

He gently cups the back of my neck. “You’re definitely a tough cookie. One of many things I like about you.”

“Oh, tell me more.” I reach for my shampoo. “But tell me while we’re showering because we need to get some sleep.”

“Well, you already know I love your tits…”

* * *

We arrivein Nashville just after noon and we’ve just gotten to a restaurant where we’re going to have lunch when I see Rich’s name flash on the screen of my phone.

“Crap. I have to take this. It’s Rich.” I hurry back outside so I don’t disturb the other diners. “Hey, Rich.”

“What’s going on?” he demands. “Are you better? Back with the band? What’s happening, Ryleigh? We’re not financing you to be on vacation.”

“I had a ruptured eardrum that required a trip to the ER,” I respond sarcastically. “I’m sure my dad would be happy to know you worried about me.”

He sighs. “Look, of course I was worried about your health, but I have to separate the business from the personal. And right now you’re costing me a fortune with hotel rooms and per diems. How’s the story? What’s going on with the band? I had to hear through the grapevine that there are rumors of them breaking up…is it true?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve been in bed for the last few days so I haven’t been around them, but I haven’t heard anything like that.”

“Ryleigh, if you can’t deliver the story I want, there’s no point in your staying on tour.”

Thisis what scares me.

He wants some kind of exposé that’s going to make the band look bad, while I want to write a human-interest piece, something that will be raw and gritty, but also honest and humane.

At this point, I’m not sure how to pull that off.

I want and need health insurance.

I’d love the prestige of being able to say I’m a staff writer forRock Harder Magazine.

At least, I think I do.

The longer I do this, the more I’m beginning to wonder.

I’ve gotten close to Kirsten, and not only is she a star in her own right, she’s Sam’s girlfriend. If I write something negative about the band, and Sam by extension, I have no doubt that will be the end of our friendship.

The same thing goes for Lexi.

She plays in a band with Kirsten’s brother-in-law. They’re business associates but also friendsandfamily. If I screw one of them over, I’m essentially guaranteeing I will never, ever have access to either band again.

Not to mention my relationship with Angus.

Now that we’re involved, how the hell am I going to pull off this article?

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