Page 17 of Forbidden Intent

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The water sluices off my body as I run my hand through my wet hair and close my eyes.But that’s my first mistake, because the second I close my eyes, all I see are hers.

Tamsin fucking Cross is messing with my head and she doesn’t even know it.

My cock stiffens as I imagine her hungry eyes and her perfect pink lips wrapped around the pink pen she always has with her.Fuck, what I would give to have those lips wrapped around me.

I give in to the temptation and move my hand down my body until it grips my achingly hard cock.I think about her hazel eyes again, the weight of her gaze whenever she looks at me, how it makes me feel something—something I’m unfamiliar with but dying to explore because it’s new and so, so tempting.I can’t stop thinking about the sound of her voice, often replaying every moment we’ve shared on repeat until I’m certain I could pick her out of a crowd within seconds.It’s the memory of her voice that has my free hand slamming against the wall as I come, my release hitting the shower wall in spurts that have me weak at the knees and wishing my hand was hers.

Fuck, I want her.I know I shouldn’t.I saw that look in her eyes—the one that draws me to her even more but also means that maybe I’d be too much for her.

I’m a nice guy, but I like dirty sex.I like restraints, blindfolds, toys.I like controlling a woman’s pleasure until she’s completely boneless from her release and knowing I put that satisfied smirk on her face.I may take a backseat when it comes to band business and play the chill drummer, but in the bedroom I’m in control.

A girl like Tamsin doesn’t seem the type to be into the stuff I’m into, although I know better than to judge a book by its cover.Most people never assumed I was into anything like that until it got leaked to a tabloid.It’s a rumor I’ve never actually confirmed, but it’s out there, nonetheless.

It’s worked in my favor a time or two, or twenty.But now the only woman I want is one I really shouldn’t.Several of my past booty calls have hit me up over the past couple of weeks trying to get together with me, but I’ve turned them all down because none of them stir my body the way just the thought of Tamsin does.

None of them make me feel what she does.

It’s not just the temptation that draws me to her.It’s her voice, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous, how she always puts her pen in her mouth when she’s focused on something, the way she watches me while I play—not the band, like most people, butme.

I know I shouldn’t want her like this, but I’m losing the will to care if she’s our producer’s daughter.I want her, and I know myself well enough to know I’m fighting a losing battle.

Tamsin Cross is going to bring me to my knees.It’s just a matter of when.

“What do you think of this one?”Becka, Trent’s wife, asks Robbie’s wife, Jolie, about an arrangement of flowers she’s looking at on some floral website.They’re sitting on the couch across from where I’m seated at Trent and Becka’s place, all of us here to help them with some final details for their wedding reception.They eloped in Vegas a month and a half ago, and Becka’s mom has been dying for her to plan a wedding reception so everyone can celebrate with the happy—and nauseatingly in love—couple.

I’m not sure why the whole band had to be here for this; Becka and Jolie seem to have it covered, both of them gushing over the details that have already been planned.My fingers drum a beat on my jean-clad legs as I look around at the rest of our group.Tristan is watching the girls, his song notebook in his lap and a pen between his fingers but not being used.Robbie, who’s sitting between me and Tristan, is talking about a deal he’s working on that would be huge for us while he plays a game on his phone.

Kasen is sitting in a chair to my left, bouncing his knee restlessly while his fingers skate across his phone.There’s a piece of me that knows I should engage in conversation with him, maybe see if he’ll tell me who he’s texting, but a bigger piece is afraid to ask.What if it’s Charli?What if he’s slipping further away from us with every waking moment?How do we save him from the inevitable fall that is surely coming?

Trent is sitting on the other side of Kase, his guitar in his hands but his gaze locked on Becka, a smirk on his lips.He’s been different since she came into his life again—more focused, happier, except for the eight months they were apart.There’s a look in his eyes I’ve never seen on him before.Like he’s looking at his whole world sitting on that couch.

I wonder what that’s like—to love someone that much.I can’t recall ever looking at a woman the way Trent looks at Becka.The last serious girlfriend I had was before we became famous.She was sweet and caring, but she didn’t love how committed I was to the band and she wanted me to do something more serious with my life.She wanted something stable and wasn’t convinced the band life could give her that.When we got the offer from our record label, she gave me an ultimatum—her or the band.The decision was easy at that point.Last I heard, she fell in love with a young dentist who moved to town.

It’s only been groupies or women I meet at sex clubs since then.The sex clubs were a new experience for me, but a lot of doors open up when you become famous and I figured why the hell not?I don’t visit them often, but they have their perks.Everyone there is into something and I can try new things or just find a partner who’s down for some bondage without having to have a whole long conversation about it like I do with groupies or women I meet at bars.Women in sex clubs don’t need me to explain why I like what I like, and I don’t need to worry that they won’t be honest about their limits—club norms dictate open and honest communication and consent at all times, which gives a level of protection for both me and whatever partner I’m with.

Like other areas of my life, I don’t fit into a typical box when it comes to my sex life.I’m not a stereotypical dominant.I’m not even sure I’d classify myself as one.Do I like control in the bedroom?One hundred percent.Do I need to control a woman’s pleasure when she’s with me?Definitely.But I don’t need to control other aspects of her life.I don’t feel the need to be Type A when it comes to my own life either.I’m the chill dude everyone knows and loves—except in the bedroom.

Trent pulls his gaze from his wife and turns to us, a mischievous look in his eyes I recognize—he’s up to something.

“Hey guys, let’s go to the studio and rehearse the next song we’ll be recording while the girls work on this stuff.”

We all look around at each other and then nod, getting up silently and walking downstairs to the small studio Trent had built right after they bought the house.As soon as the door closes, he turns to us, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Okay, I need your help.I wrote a song for Becka and I’d like to surprise her with it at the reception.”

We smile at him, immediately on board.Robbie claps his hands together and then takes a seat on the couch while we all get set up.Trent spared no expense on stocking this studio, and all it takes is a few minutes of tuning and me pulling out the spare drumsticks before he plays the beat on his guitar and gives us all an idea of what he’s aiming for.We’re so in sync with each other after a decade of playing together that we pick up our parts quickly and make small tweaks before we agree we like the beat.

Robbie whips out his phone to record the process, something he likes to do often to capture the full transformation of our sound from concept to performance ready.After a couple of hours, we make our way back upstairs, all of us buzzing like we usually are after a session.

We find the girls right where we left them, although this time Jo has her computer out and she’s showing Becka shots she recently took of the band.They’re both laughing hard—Becka’s got tears in her eyes and Jolie is doubled over, pinching her side like she’s in pain.I’d be worried if it weren’t for the smile on her face.

“What’s so funny?”Robbie asks as he leans over and drops a tender kiss on the top of his wife’s head.

Jolie attempts to sober herself, but one look at Becka and they both burst out into a another fit of laughter.Robbie peeks over Jo to see what’s on her computer screen, but then glances up at us and shrugs, clearly not getting any answers.

Jo reaches up and puts her hand on Robbie’s arm, giving him a radiant smile while struggling to get her words out.“It’s a girl thing, hun.Don’t worry about it.”

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