My forehead lands against hers, our breathing ragged.
Bemused laughs slip past her lips as she lowers her body back to the ground. I only now realize I had lifted her up. “Well, that was unexpected.”
It absolutely was. In the best of ways. I stare down at her through a fan of lashes, wanting to lick at her smile. Maybe I can stretch this a bit longer? Break my rules just this once? All I know is the idea of walking away from her and never seeing her again feels—
“I certainly didn’t think that would happen when I came here tonight to meet up with you guys.”
That pulls me up short. “You came here tonight to meet up with us?”
Her eyebrows furrow as she adjusts her clothes, putting everything back in place. “Of course, I was. Why else would I be here?”
Dread pools low in my gut as horrible pieces of the puzzle start coming together. I tie off the condom, sticking it into my pocket, and tucking my dick back inside my pants, zipping up. “What’s your name?”
“My name?” she parrots, pain flashing across her face quickly followed by anger. “You don’t know who I am? Are you fucking kidding me?” She stares at me, waiting for me to laugh or tell her I’m joking. She puffs out an incredulous burst of air. “You really didn’t know who I was, did you?” She scrubs her hands up and down her face. “I can’t believe this. I thought…” A humorless laugh escapes her lungs. “How stupid. I thought after all these years, you finally wanted me back,” she murmurs that last part, more to herself than to me, but I hear it all the same.
“I’m sorry…”
Her hands fall and her eyes—narrowed slits of fury—ensnare mine. “Eden Dawson. You know, your bandmate’s, your best friend’s, little sister. You remember me now, right?” she spits, vitriol dripping from each syllable. “You’ve only known me my entire fucking life.”
“Eden.” I choke on her name. Keith’s baby sister. How could I have…
Guilt and remorse clog my throat. I reach for her and she shoves me away.
“Don’t touch me. You’re such a piece of shit. How could you not have known?!”
“God, Eden. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realize. I haven’t seen you in a few years and you look so different. Nothing like Keith or your other sisters. I swear to God, I didn’t know. I would never have touched you if—”
She smacks my face. Hard. Flashes of pain prickle across my cheek, a trail of burning heat closely follows. I stare into her blue eyes, not even the slightest bit stunned. I deserve so much worse than that. She’s right. I am a piece of shit. The absolute worst sort.
Because I didn’t recognize her. In fairness, I made a point never to notice Eden Dawson or any of Keith’s sisters. The last time I saw her, she was sixteen and looked like she was twelve. She was not this woman standing before me.
Christ. Her brother will murder me where I stand. Deservedly so.
“Just go.”
I shake my head, trying to touch her again only to drop my hand at the last second. I don’t deserve her touch or forgiveness. Still… “I can’t. Eden—”
“Don’t say my name. You bastard, just go. Now I really do hate you.”
I stand immobile.
“Go,” she screams, shoving at me with all her might. This time I listen. With my heart in my throat and my stomach churning with every nasty emotion I can throw at it, I walk away. I just fucked my best friend’s baby sister in the middle of a club like any other meaningless woman. Only she’s not meaningless, and not because she’s Keith’s sister.
She was more before I even knew her name. Knew who she was.
For that reason alone, I should be relieved she slapped me while spitting venom in my face. I should be…
Something inside of me stirs uncomfortably.
I need to fix this.
Need to see her again.
Only… I have no idea how I’m going to do that. Not when her brother will kill me if he ever finds out what I just did to his baby sister.
One
EDEN
Three years later
“Harry, you know I love you, but I just can’t do this anymore,” I tell the man standing before me, his eyes earnest, hopeful, but it’s just not gonna work. There is no way.
“Eden. My love. I know you can make this happen. Lyric would want it that way.”
I fight a grin at the way he tosses my boss’s name out like that. As if it’s meant to induce nerves in me, the newbie on the street. It doesn’t. Lyric is the one who passed this directive on to me.
“We are tightening up the last song on your album. The album is…” I sigh dreamily, not even caring if I’m stretching here a bit. “It’s perfect, Harry. Just perfect. One of your best. One of Cyber’s Law’s best. It’s a hit and the song you think we need to add to this perfect album will only weigh it down.”
Especially since the fucker is already twenty tracks deep.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze scrutinizing but steady. I don’t intimidate easily. Try being the youngest of six with Keith Dawson as your big brother. Nothing scares me. It’s why Lyric passed Cyber’s Law onto me. She’s been producing their albums for years, and I think finally had enough. Plus, Harry refused to finish recording in New York, and that’s where Lyric is now primarily based.
“You’re honestly telling me we can’t squeeze one tiny little new song on?” He’s trying for incredulous and falling way short. But I like his English accent enough to keep this conversation going. Even if it’s done.
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. But the wonderful thing about that is you already have a killer song to kick off your next album.”
He considers this for a moment, his eyes sweeping about the studio we’ve been toiling in for the last eight hours straight. Hell, for the last three weeks straight. We even have food delivered and I think I’ve only used the restroom like once a day. That’s how hard we’ve been working. His bandmates too, but they’re holding back comment on this new song.
I think they’re as done with this album as I am.
“Alright luv, you’ve won me over yet again. We’ll push the new track onto the next album. How about we celebrate with dinner tonight?”
“As I’ve already explained several times, Harry, I don’t date the people I work with.” Or more specifically, I don’t date you.
“But we’ve just established that we’re done working.”
A pointed eyebrow slides up my face.
“Ah, you’re trouble. But gorgeous trouble, so I’ll keep working on wearing you down.”
Trouble. Why does everyone think I’m trouble? A couple of piercings and some purple hair dye and you’d think I was out purse-snatching old ladies.
“You’re doing our next album, yeah?”
“If it floats your boat, I’d be honored to do your next album. But my answer on dating you won’t change.” With that, I sling my purse over my shoulder, throw them all a parting wave, and head for the door before he can waylay me further.