“Shit.” Ammo signals for our security.
I move toward Nuke. He looks like a fish out of water jumping circles around my goddess while she laughs and twirls. People start to rush us, screaming “Rock God” and “Ammo.”
“Goddammit, Granger,” Ace, my bodyguard, gripes as he makes a huge production of trying to keep people from touching us.
I despise having security. Pussy-ass shit, in my opinion. But apparently the record label and Rafe, our manager, disagree. I don’t run or hide. Anyone wants to come at me, I’m right here. I smirk. Guess this is why we have security. I storm a path straight up to Nuke.
“Hey, man,” he calls out and looks up at me, his face filled with excitement.
“Nuke.” I nod then turn to the woman. She’s stopped dancing. Her chest rises and falls, almost as if she’s been waiting for me.
Her long dark hair is pulled up, revealing her stunning face, allowing me to admire her puffy lips, high cheekbones, and big eyes that slant up like a cat’s.
“You remember—” I hold up my hand for Nuke to stop. The club has pretty much ceased to exist anymore. My eyes go up and down her thin form, stopping at her incredible tits. Jesus, my cock is so hard I have to shift it to the other side.
If she’s with Nuke, she’s not anymore. A slow smile graces her incredible lips as I ignore him and whatever he seems to want to tell me. Instead, I move closer, blocking him out as I reach for her tiny wrist, which is adorned with numerous bangles.
She’s delicious, intoxicating. As she glides into my arms, I fight the urge not to lick one side of her face, if only to see how she’d taste. I breathe in her scent, savoring the smell.
It’s vanilla.
Maybe caramel. Fuck, it’s crème brûlée. I want to lose myself in her, savor her as if she’s dessert. Dipping my head, I feel her shudder. She’s mine and she knows it.
“Hello, beautiful,” I say lowly into her lips.
Her eyes narrow on mine, then dip to my mouth. “Hello, Rhys.” Her voice is like a slight breeze, a gentle feather caressing my lips.
Warning bells pound through my intoxicated trance and I lift my head to stare at her. The neon lasers and lights are chaotic, adding to my unease. No one calls me Rhys anymore.
It’s a name from my past. I even correct people if they try to use it.
“Rhys?” Her voice is slightly raspy, sensual.
“No one calls me that.”
“Well, I’m not anyone,” she purrs.
“Fuck, Granger. You looking for a world of pain? What the hell are you doing?” I barely register Nuke yelling. It doesn’t matter what he says or what he’s warning me about.
I want her.
I grab her face with both hands, bringing her lips to mine. A premonition that this one is dangerous flashes through my head.
It doesn’t matter though. I’m all in.
Roughly, I claim her lips, thrusting my tongue deep inside her mouth. She moans and wraps her hands around my neck. Her body fits perfectly. As if I hired a sculptor to mold her to me.
She tastes like sugar and berries and all I want to do is live inside her honey core for days.
Hunger.
I haven’t felt starved like this in years—that need, drive to obtain something, to want something so desperately that you don’t care if she ruins you.
Lifting my head, I say, “Let’s go.”
“Yes.” She nods, her eyes slits and lips swollen. I have to fight myself not to wrap my hands in her long dark tresses and take her mouth again. She digs her nails into my forearms as we start to walk.
“Granger, this is a mistake. People are filming you.” Ammo’s and Nuke’s voices blend together. I let Ace clear the path for us.
“Fuck, man, he’ll kill you. Don’t you know who she—”
I’m getting pissed. Don’t they get it? I don’t care. Who do they think they’re talking to anyway?
Hunger.
I let the adrenaline flow through me. For the first time in years, I want something.
I want it, crave it more than anything.
GIA
Past – Eighteen years old
Seattle, Washington
Holy fuck, the world is spinning and my lips still tingle from his kiss. My eyes devour the tattoos on his forearms as a wave of pure excitement flutters through my body.
He’s dressed all in black. As I cling to his strong hand, a large black man in a suit shields us, making sure we aren’t mobbed. This is out of control.
I knew the Stuffed Muffins were famous, but I had no idea how monumental this truly is. They love him—no, they worship him as if he’s not human but a god who can give them eternal life. Women and men reach out to touch him as he storms past, maneuvering us out into the cool, wet night.
I take a breath, trying to get ahold of my emotions. This is happening fast. From the moment I boarded the plane and landed in Seattle, it’s been crazy. I barely had time to panic I was so excited.
Nuke was actually on time picking me up. His genuine happiness that I’m here reassured me that this is right. All of Julianna’s doubts and fears that kind of stayed with me on the plane evaporated as soon as he grabbed me and swung me around.
Nuke and I are close. He’s the only one over the years who came and visited me and my mom.
He’d show up and crash in Axel’s old room, stay for a week or so, and go back. I used to ask him why he never wanted to see Axel. He’d give me that faraway smile of his and kiss the top of my head. He’s kind, and even though he tries to act tough, Nuke has a sadness in him. No matter how much fame he gets, or how many people tell him he’s the best, he can’t seem to shake it. Deep inside something’s chasing him, and unless he deals with it, he’s never gonna find peace.
It must involve his parents and the way he grew up. He rarely mentions them, and if he does, his words are not kind. But I’ve never been around a person who craves a family more than Nuke. Unfortunately, he has a major self-destructive streak and sabotages any relationship that might bring him happiness.
Aside from some of my brother’s friends, I’ve never seen a guy have worse taste in women.
He’s beyond hot, striking, really, with pitch-black hair shaved on the sides, so you can see his tattoos. Nuke is covered in tattoos and has been getting them for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I recall thinking he looked like a beautiful painting.
He’s loyal and supportive. Again, I push aside that nagging guilt because I might have also told him there was a scholarship involved…
“I’ve got Granger.” The bodyguard talks into his earpiece, bringing me back to the now.
I’m with Rhys.
And… he wants me.
His warm hand squeezes mine, causing a small shiver that has nothing to do with the cool, misty rain, and everything to do with the electrical charge that goes through me every time Rhys touches me.
“Come here, beautiful. You’re cold.” He graces me with his famous smirk and pulls me tight into his arms.
“Christ, can I have some privacy?” He shakes his head at the horde of paparazzi screaming and taking pictures of us.
“Granger, who’s the woman? Sweetheart, look over here. What’s your name?” They’re firing questions at me so fast, even if I wanted to lift my head from Rhys’s chest to answer, it would be impossible.