Page 48 of Crimson Desires

More than anything, I wanted Aster to understand that this wasn’t just a fling. At least, not from my perspective. I wanted to get to know her—her likes, her dislikes, the way she took her coffee. I wanted to understand her heart and her mind. I wanted to explore every inch of her perfect body.

I wanted to be with her.

More than that, I wanted to build a relationship with her that could last.

“You are so hard to hate,” Aster said, breaking the silence between us.

“Did you want to hate me?” I asked.

“God, yes,” Aster breathed. “Liking you makes me feel helpless, Jack. And being helpless scares the shit out of me.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” I promised. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You say that now.”

“Aster,” I took her hand in my own. Her palms were soft and small. I fought the urge to kiss them. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid of your own feelings. Maybe one day, you’ll trust me enough to tell me. But for now, just know this: I like you a lot. And it’s not infatuation, or lust, or a crush, or any of that juvenile shit. I want you. Romantically, sexually—in every way. And I know you think that this can only end in disaster. But I’m determined to prove you wrong. If you’ll let me.”

Aster sucked in a sharp breath.

And before I knew it, we were kissing. Tenderly, passionately, desperately. I cupped Aster’s face in my hands, a silent promise to protect her. Our lips moving together were like melody and harmony—perfect compliments.

I pulled away, studying Aster’s face. Her eyes were dark and hazy with desire. Her lips were parted.

God, I wanted to fuck her.

If not for public indecency (and the fact that Dave was watching us from the car only a couple of yards away) I would have taken her right on the picnic bench.

I swallowed thickly. “The band’s staying in a hotel. Want to sleep in my room?”

Aster’s voice was barely a whisper. “Okay.”

Chapter Thirteen

Aster

The drive back to the hotel was unbearable.

It was only a twenty-minute drive, but it felt like an eternity. Every red light felt like a personal affront from the universe. Jaywalking pedestrians swarmed the busy streets of Raleigh, forcing Dave to stop and start like a buffering YouTube video. I had half a mind to tell him to drive right through them.

Jack ran his fingertips along the insides of my thighs.

He knew what he was doing to me. I could tell by the stupid little smirk on his face every time he trailed too close to my arousal. But I couldn’t fight him. My mind had already succumbed to his touch. Whether I liked it or not.

Thanks to the cramped conditions on the tour bus, I’d had no privacy at all recently. I wasn’t a frequent self-pleasurer by any definition, but after ten days of having to suppress my urges around Jack’s gorgeous face and body, I was starting to go a little crazy.

Jack dangled the promise of fulfillment right in front of my eyes as his blunt nails tickled my bare skin below the distressed hem of my black jean shorts.

I gritted my teeth. I was determined to maintain my composure until we got to the hotel. I was twenty-four, for fuck’s sake. Not some horny, sex-crazed teenager.

Jack slipped his hand further up my thigh and brushed his thumb against my clit through my jeans. Surprised by the little jolt of pleasure, I yelped.

“You alright, Miss Jennings?” Dave asked. I saw him peer at me through the rearview mirror.

I forced myself to smile. “Yeah. I’m perfect.”

Jack laughed to himself. I had half a mind to palm him through his sweatpants. See how much he liked it.

Although Jack probably wouldn’t be embarrassed by something like that. I could already see his half-hard dick imprinted through the fabric of his pants. He was making no effort to hide it.

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