Page 57 of Beautiful Enemy

“It’s my song,” I shout, my heart thudding against my ribs.

I squeeze my eyes closed, imagining me playing this song from the stage.

As much as I’ve grown to care about Debajo, mixing at La Mer would make my career. Hearing my song in the place cements the possibility that it can happen.

That itwill.

When I blink my eyes open again, he’s closer than before. He smells like man and the ocean, and in these clothes, he could be a gorgeous tourist instead of the CEO he is.

We’re in the middle of a huge crowd, and I’ve never felt more powerful or vulnerable with him than I do in this moment.

I tilt my head back to stare up at the sky.

His hands find my waist when I threaten to tip over from the giddiness.

I straighten with his help, his face inches from mine.

Those eyes are hot, his mouth parted.

I’m at the world’s biggest party, and all I see is Harrison, filling my vision.

“This was you,” I accuse. My fingertips dig into his corded biceps, the tense muscles holding me up.

“You fucking—”

He shuts me up with his mouth.

He’s warm and hard, delicious and sharp. His heat and scent wrap around me.

There’s a desperate roughness under the surface. It’s less like kissing than an attack, but an unplanned one by a skilled fighter.

The feel of him has me tingling, every nerve ending alive and throbbing. His hard body is pressed to mine, his heart hammering faster than the beat surrounding us—the one I made myself.

His body is a wall of masculinity determined to make me feel every inch of him.

And there are a lot of inches. The hardness grinding against my stomach would steal my breath if his kiss hadn’t already.

The music pulses around us, the crowd throbbing.

I’m throbbing.

What he says about power is true—I feel his, and it’s pure temptation even before his touch strokes up my thighs, his hand gripping my ass to fit me against him.

My spinning head can’t tell if it’s seconds or minutes later when he pulls back an inch, eyes dark as the sky.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers against my mouth before letting me go and disappearing back into the crowd.

14

Harrison

I’ll never admit it to anyone, but sometimes I’m a fucking idiot.

Still, I’m never a fucking idiot two days in a row.

I rise early and punish my body with a hard workout before showering and selecting a suit. It’s nearly ten when I meet Toro at the front of the villa for the drive to Christian’s house.

“Pleasant evening?” he asks, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

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