Page 33 of When the Stars Rise
It’s official. She’s trying to kill me.
I’m going to have a heart attack at twenty-two.
Here lies Noah James McCallister, who died of jealousy at the cruel hands of his one true love.
I’m tempted to push her against the black-tiled wall, slide my hands under her dress and fuck her so hard that she won’t even remember her own name, let alone Asher Fucking Keating’s.
But I can’t do that because we’re not really together, and it’s been almost two years since we’ve even kissed.
Besides, sex with Hayley was neverjust sex. It was always so much more.
So, instead, I’m taking a video of her getting ready. “What are you doing?” she asks with a laugh.
“Capturing some behind-the-scenes footage.” We’re both in the shot—her leaning over the marble sink, eye-fucking the mirror while she paints her lips red, and me holding the camera, staring at her mouth.
I’m envisioning Hayley on her knees, her red lips wrapped around my cock while I fist her hair. Her eyes at half-mast, cheeks hollowed while she takes me so deep my tip nudges the back of her throat.
And just like that, I’m hard.
“I love you in that shirt,” she says, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror as she caps the gold lipstick tube and tosses it into her clutch bag.
I’m wearing the palm-printed bowling shirt she bought me a few years ago, but my hearing is selective, so I focus on the first three words.I. Love. You.
I grab the top of the doorframe with one hand and block the exit with my body. “Ditch the party and come to dinner with me.”
She smooths the front of my shirt with her hands, down my chest, and over my abs, the little tease. Her gaze dips to the bulge in my jeans, and my breathing gets shallow when she leans in closer. Her body is flush with mine, and my erection is pressing against her stomach. There’s no way she can’t feel how much I want her.
She looks up at me from beneath her lashes, her palm pressed against my chest right over my beating heart.
Can she feel the way my heart beats for her?
Hay-ley. Hay-ley. Hay-ley.
“Tempting.” She runs her tongue over her lips, wetting them as if she’s planning to kiss me, but she doesn’t.
All she does is torture me, and I keep coming back for more.
She steps back and lowers her hands to her sides, leaving me cold. “But I can’t. I’ve already committed to being there.”
Hayley and her fucking commitments. If she says she’ll do something, you can bet your ass that she won’t back out. I’m the same way, but right now, I’d prefer she were less dependable.
She gives me a little nudge, gesturing for me to move aside, and breezes past me in a cloud of Gypsy Water while I adjust myself in my pants.
Sex is off the table, but my dick obviously didn’t get the memo.
Would it have killed her to wear a different scent? A different dress?
Earlier, I asked her if she was still trying to punish me for that kiss.
“Not everything is about you, Noah,” she said, rolling her eyes at me.
Rolled her fucking eyes at me.
She told me it was just one of those industry parties that she was obligated to attend.A launch party for the band’s new album, not a date.
So why does it feel like a knife in the back?
Nonetheless, I’m determined to rise above, so I usher her out the door into the hallway where we have zero privacy. This floor has been reserved for Hayley and her entourage, and with all the security manning the exits and the hallway, she probably has tighter security than POTUS.
