Page 44 of Tight End

My skin prickles. I remember every touch. I can still feel him now.

And there is definitely nothing fake about the swirls of lust snaking through my insides right now at the thought of being buried balls deep in his ass.

The elevator doors ding and the paparazzi crowd the doors, waiting for them to open.

“Yeah. I’ve gotta go.” I click to end the call.

When the doors finally part, Ben steps out with the other guys from the band and a couple of bigger guys…security from last night…follow. Then the camera flashes blind me where I’m standing.

Brixton walks out of the elevator by himself with what looks like an incredibly forced smile on his face. My breath hitches as he strides forward, flanked on all sides by his entourage.

He’s not wearing a tie. No shock there. It’s his way of telling the crowds that he’s not sweating any of the bullshit they’re saying about him. He’s going to be himself, no fucks given, and nobody will control him.

The black suit hugs his long, lean frame. He’s got on a white button down open at the collar. It pops against his tan skin. His sexed-up hair hangs over penetrating ice blue eyes, the only pair of eyes that has the power to unravel me and get me to do things I know are bad for me…but so fucking good at the same time.

Ben guides him in my direction. I can’t tear my gaze away from him, and when he finally makes eye contact, everything around me disappears except him. His long strides close thedistance between us, and the power he holds over me at this second makes it hard to breathe, impossible to move. I lose myself in those blue pools, so much emotion bubbling in the depths of his heated stare.

He walks right up to me, reaches for the back of my hair, and threads his fingers into it.

With a hammering pulse, I glance at the cameras pointed directly at us then back to Brixton.

He pushes my head toward his so that we’re practically lip to lip.

Suddenly, it looks like he’s trying to kill me with his mind.

What the hell?—?

He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. Goosebumps pebble my skin at his nearness.

Fuck, he smells amazing…why do I have to think he smells amazing?

Every nerve is on high alert, my body damn close to spontaneous combustion right about now with the way his fingers caress the back of my neck. He presses his other hand against my chest where my heart is galloping at a crazy pace.

“Um, this is nice, but there are an awful lot of people watching and filming?—"

“Shut the fuck up,” he seethes. I choke on a breath as the hand in my hair tightens and tugs hard. “You didn’t even warn me, you fucking asshole. You knew what it would do to me and you didn’t say a fucking word. You took off and just left me there to deal with it. You vindictive bastard.”

Shit.

“Brixton, I didn’t know. I swear, it wasn’t my plan at all?—"

“The fuck it wasn’t. You’re pissed that you got dragged into this shit so you wanted to hang me out to dry.”

He takes my earlobe between his teeth and bites down, sending sharp tingles straight to my dick.

God, I hate him. He’s so fucking twisted. How could I have ever thought there was more to this guy?

“You’re crazy. I fucking saved your ass twice last night.”

“And after fucking me once, you decided you needed to do it a second time to really drive shit home. You surprised me, Sammy. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He pulls my hair again and I grit my teeth.

“Don’t worry, though.” He loosens his grip and moves back the slightest bit, a vicious smirk on his gorgeous, demonic face. “I’m gonna take such a sledgehammer to your precious image that you won’t even recognize what you’re trying to protect.”

Then, before I can even respond, he crushes his lips against mine in a deep and demanding kiss that I feeleverywhere.

Fuck my life.

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