Page 29 of Hard Rock Deceit
My heart ached for August. Losing your parents was one of the worst things a kid could gothrough.
"I was in the car with them," he murmured quietly. "I walked away with nothing worse than a few brokenbones."
"How old were you?" I askedtentatively.
"Fifteen. My uncle took me in. We got along well, but I still moved out after a year. I'd already started making money songwriting for other artists, so I was prettyindependent."
His lips twitched upward, some of the sadnessretreating.
"My parents always said I was too mature for my age," he continued. "They wished I was out causing trouble with my friends, not holed up in my room makingmusic."
"I'm sure they were proudofyou."
"They were. Mostly. They worried I was growing up too fast. Missing out on my childhood." He craned his neck from side to side and rotated his shoulders, testing the muscles. "Looking at the way Cameron still acts, I don't think I missed outonmuch."
We shared a smallsmile.
August's gaze dropped to my lips. Nerves fluttered in my stomach as that heat returned to his eyes. We were sitting so close. The only thing keeping our thighs from pressing together was the thin cotton sheet. A part of me wished I hadn't pulled the sheet intomylap.
Inhaling deeply to calm myself, I breathed in his familiar earthy-sweet scent that now reminded me of black tealeaves.
I focused on the cold pack, pressing down firmly. August placed his hand over mine. I stopped breathing. He repositioned my hand closer to the joint of his shoulder, away from his neck. A few drops of condensation had beaded on the skin of histhroat.
I got the insane urge to lean forward and lick those droplets offhisskin.
Shocked by my own thoughts, I tried to pull back. August's hand on mine stopped me. His warmth was a stark contrast to my ice-numbed fingers. It spread from that single point of contact, from my hand, up my arm, and down my belly to settle between mythighs.
August shifted, bringing one leg up on the bed until our knees touched through the sheets and we were face to face. Staring into my eyes, he brushed the hair away from my cheek with a gentle touch. He tucked the loose strands behind my ear, the way my mom did when I was a kid. My heart ached at the sweet gesture even as my stomach musclesclenched.
With his hand buried in my hair, his gaze fixated on my lips. One soft thumb wandered to the corner of my mouth. My breath hitched. He slowly drew a line along my bottom lip. My mouth trembled, acutely aware of every swirl of his thumbprint against my now overlysensitiveskin.
"What are you feeling now?" hemurmured.
My throat tightened. I parted my lips to speak, but couldn't form asingleword.
He slipped between my parted lips. The pad of his thumb brushed the flat of mytongue.
I inhaled sharply as a throbbing flared up between my thighs, my insides pulsing with need, withdesire.
The taste of salt and earth flooded my senses. He tasted as good as he smelled. I wanted to taste more of him. I wanted to taste every inchofhim.
His thumb left my mouth. I mourned the lossofit.
"Tell what you're feeling." His tone was soft yet demanding, coaxing an answer outofme.
"I—" My voice faltered. I cast my eyes down, unable to keep eyecontact.
I saw I wasn't the only one in need. The hardening length constricted by his leather pants proved to me he was feeling much the same as me. I was filled with fascination at the size of him, thebreadth.
He placed a finger on the point of my chin, tilting myheadup.
"Cassie."
The way he said my name commanded me to look him in the eyes. The desire I saw must have matchedmyown.
I inhaled a shuddering breath and spoke softly, almostwhispering.
"I'm achinginside."
