Page 76 of Undeniable Temptation

“And I’ll take it. I want everything you have to give, Ryan. And everything I have is yours in return.”

He nudged his knee between her legs, parting her pants-covered thighs. “Everything?” he whispered. “How ’bout another pair of panties to add to my collection?”

She laughed. “Everything but those. At least while we’re in the air.”

He deepened the kiss and cupped the back of her head. Her moan slid down his throat, through his stomach, directly to his cock. Sharp nails dug into his flesh, scarring skin as she ground her pelvis against his thigh.

“Cut it out, you two.”

He ignored Blake and kept her head in place, unwilling to let her go. On the jet it was easy. They could shut the door to the hostess area, flick the do-not-disturb light, and act like the world didn’t exist. Professionalism would steal her away soon enough and he doubted he would get another chance to taste her until they rejoined the tour.

“We should critique them until they stop,” Mitch suggested.

Ryan responded by lowering his hand from her hair, down her back to cup her ass.Critique that, motherfuckers.

“Cut them a break,” Sean added. “Let them enjoy their slice of heaven.”

“And what about our living hell?” came from Mason. “I caught an eye-full of Ryan’s dick last night.”

“I thought you liked dick?” Sean had a death wish. “At least the poll on Twitter says you do.”

Leah pulled back, her bright eyes staring up at him. “If they’re trying to stop me from wanting to kiss you, they’re failing. I could stay here forever.”

He grinned and the resounding silence meant Mason must’ve responded to Sean with a middle finger gesture. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

This time her smile faltered, the happiness fracturing. She closed her eyes and nestled into his chest. “I’m going to catch some Zs before we land. Can I use you as a pillow?”

He rested his chin against the top of her head and pulled her close, resigning himself to the limited time they had before arrival. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Twenty

His apartment keyslid into the lock. Why? He’d tested the fit as a joke, a little confirmation to Julie’s bitchiness, and he’d been proven wrong. He’d assumed updating the security would’ve been a high priority on his wife’s divorce schedule. Apparently not. He turned the handle, pushed inside, and returned to the contempt of a failed marriage all with a simple step over the threshold.

“Julie?” He kicked off his shoes and padded onto the plush carpet. “It’s me.”

“I’m in the kitchen.”

He continued past his retired guitars still on display in the hall, their glossy shine letting him know she’d polished them during his absence. Her care didn’t make sense. And the Betty Crocker scent of caramel and chocolate floating through the air made him nervous. His wife didn’t cook. At least, not for him.

“You didn’t change the locks.” He walked through the kitchen doorway and acknowledged his body’s lack of response to the sight of her. There was no anger, no disappointment, no attraction. The mountain of emotions he’d once harbored over this woman was now a void.

She turned to him, her loose dress dancing over her thighs. Her hair was different, colored to a dark brown with light highlights, the length now resting an inch above her shoulders. “I couldn’t bring myself to sever the final link between us.”

He withheld a scoff. “After your bitter online interview, I expected you to have burned or buried all the stuff I left behind.”

She reached for a cloth and began cleaning the flour from the counter. “It was the only way I could get your attention. You’ve blocked every attempt I’ve made to get in contact with you, and I knew, once I got the band involved, they’d send you home to deal with me.”

“This isn’t my home anymore, Julie. If you want more from the divorce settlement, you need to take it to my lawyer.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Then what is it? Why am I here?”

She lowered her gaze and reached for the tray of freshly baked cookies. “Want one?”

“No.” God, no. He wanted a signature and an amicable farewell. Not a damn cookie. “Tell me why I’m here.” He stepped further into the room and took the divorce settlement from the back pocket of his jeans.

“I needed to see you.” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you I made a mistake.”

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