Page 27 of One More Song

“For what?” she asks softly.

I scoff, drop my head. “For everything, Ember. ”

She lets out a shaky breath, and says, “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“So you’re not kicking us out?”

Her gaze holds mine and for a split second I think she’s considering it, but then she shakes her head. “No. I need the money. We just...” She swallows, then continues. “We have to remember what this is.”

I take a step toward her. “And what exactly is this?”

“A business arrangement,” she says, taking a step away from me.

“You know it’s more than that.”

She shakes her head, but I can see the fight in her eyes, and her words are almost a whisper when she says, “It’s what it has to be.”

“Right,” I mutter, dragging my fingers through my hair, and knowing that’s what it should have been all along.

But as she walks away, and her bedroom door shuts behind her, that asshole inside of me is already pacing, hungry and greedy and wanting so much more.

* * *

By the next morning, all of us seem to be moving on. We took what felt like a twenty-four-hour vow of silence, but wake on Sunday ready to move forward. When I passed the guys in the living room where they were drinking coffee, they were friendly.

They were talking about some guys we knew out in Philly, who just got signed with our same label. Dusty’s mom is talking about making a visit to the states. Regular stuff, stuff that usually wouldn’t even register with me because it’s so ordinary. But right now, the normal conversation feels like a miracle I don’t deserve.

Just how much of my life have I been taking for granted?

“Coffee?” Ember asks as I walk into the sunny kitchen, ten minutes to eight. I can eat breakfast before the band starts working and for once I will be on time.

“Sure, thanks,” I say, not wanting to make things worse for her. I practically fucked her outside the Boneyard - proving to her I am exactly the kind of man she must believe me to be. Reckless. Wild. Trouble.

Her lips twist as she plates a slice of banana bread and hands it to me. “So. Is this gonna be awkward?” she asks.

I swallow, warming my hands on the coffee mug. I’m glad she’s not letting me off the hook. She’s diving right in. There was a reason I liked her. “You mean the fact you’ve now seen me have sex with not one but three women?”

From her comments over the past twenty-four hours, I know that she finally caved and googled me. I also know that the first fucking thing that pops up in the search engine is the video.

Her face reddens, but she doesn’t back away. Lots of women would. It makes me wonder just what Ember’s story is. Because my past doesn’t have her skittering away like a timid mouse. She’s looking in my eyes. She’s the one who asked the question.

“Everyone has a past,” she says.

I move closer, pushing my luck. “Does mine scare you?”

She tilts her head, speaking slowly. “It doesn’t scare me.” She doesn’t offer me any more. God, I wish I could get inside her head and understand everything about her.

Despite her insistence that this is just a business arrangement, that we’re only here because she needs the money, she can’t hide the pull that’s between us. I see it in the way her pupils widen when she looks at me, the way her breath hitches whenever I get too close.

Walk away, asshole,my head demands. But I’ve never been good at listening to that particular organ. I’ve thought mostly with my cock, but this feels different. The tug comes from my chest.

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” I say, leaning my hip against the counter, and breathing in her scent - sunshine and vanilla.

“Should I?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No. I think that’s the problem. Ever since Absinthe got famous, everyone started letting me off the hook. Hell, my mom, God bless her, never held me accountable in my life. She always wanted my life to be easier than hers.” I run a hand over my smooth jaw, wishing I could take back so many wrongs, make them all right. “I’m not trying to make excuses—”

“Then don’t,” she says, holding my gaze.

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