“Don’t make this awkward,” I plead, cutting off his rant. I look over at Phoenix, and his smugness is revolting. He didn’t win. I just don’t want any special privileges or to upset the balance of the house.
“Fine. One complaint and he’s out,” Asher promises.
“I’ve yet to have a woman complain about anything that concerns me.” Phoenix winks. He leaves the room chuckling.
“Fuck,” Asher groans as he leaves the room with him.
I take a look around the room now that I’m alone. This bedroom is huge. It has a sitting area as well as doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the lake. More floor-to-ceiling windows compliment the space. The four-poster bed looks inviting until I imagine all the kinky sex that has taken place in it. I shudder at the thought as I walk into the en suite bathroom. Somehow, I knew it would be a dream. I can see why Phoenix didn’t want to give it up. The rustic travertine tiled shower, encased in glass, could fit like ten people. I see the rain shower that he spoke about next to a regular showerhead. It even has a bench in there. Interesting. The Jacuzzi tub sitting off to the side of the shower is the icing on the cake. I know where I’ll be spending a lot of my time. I love to soak and read. Well, more like an escape into a different realm of reality and pretend I’m the heroine who gets the happily ever after—not the dysfunctional life I have.
First, I guess I’ll unpack. The walk-in closet within the master bath is massive. I flip the light on and am shocked to already see men’s clothing hung up and sneakers lining the wall. So, it appears he hasn’t cleared the space yet, or does he want to share the closet, too? It’s definitely big enough. It’s almost big enough to be a sixth bedroom. Whatever. I’ll just grab my favorite romance novel and read for now. I push the suitcases against the opposite wall as his shoes and grab my book out of my bag. I walk back into the bedroom and curl up into the oversize chair next to the window. I’m not getting in that bed until I change the sheets—just in case.
Chapter Two
Phoenix
The guys are discussing what songs we’re going to cover tonight from the band, I Prevail. Honestly, I’m tired of singing other people’s shit, but our music is not ready yet. We only have one original song that we perform, titled “Something to Believe In.” I write all of our music, and that song has special meaning since it’s the first one I started working on. It has significance to my past, but the guys just think it is a badass song. We don’t play it every set, but when we do, we play it to close the night, and it brings down the fucking house every time. The topic changes to what after-hours club they plan on hitting up tonight after our show, and I smile as I think about Asher’s “princess” upstairs.
I’ve overheard him call her that nickname. It was odd as shit, to say the least, to hear the word come out of a grown man’s mouth. Imagine my surprise when this princess arrives dressed from head to toe in black, looking as dark as my soul. I see the Goth image, but something is amiss. I just can’t put my finger on it yet. I saw the instant attraction she had for me, yet she chose to pretend otherwise. The shift of her eyes toward the ground when I speak to her gives her away. I’d kill to know what thoughts ran through her mind. What she must think of me? I’m very aware of how most women see me. They want any opportunity to fuck me, and some even want to “tame the bad boy.” Fucking hysterical. Not her, though. I can tell little Miss Harlow is planning on staying the hell away from me. Too bad it’s a challenge I’m willing to accept even though she’s not really my type.
I got a peek at what she really desires, and I plan on opening her up. I bet she has a hot body under all those baggy clothes. Those piercing gray eyes of hers got my attention. It’s going to be fun exploring the rest of her. Asher has warned us all off her, so she will have to come to me, but she will. She will submit. In the end, they all do. Yup, my summer just got a little more interesting.
I watch as she comes downstairs. Apparently, she is coming to tonight’s gig. This should be fun. I hope she’ll be in the front row. She is in for a treat. I have a special performance just for her. This will be the real test. She looks around nervously, and I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
“Ready for tonight, princess?” I ask cheekily as we load the Escalade with our equipment.
“Don’t call me that,” Harlow whisper hisses. Hm, so she has some bite. I don’t mind. Even better.
“Why not? Asher calls you that. You don’t like it?”
“It’s condescending when you say it,” she points out.
“It isn’t meant to be.” I smirk. “It’s just so fitting,” I continue while gesturing toward her all-black appearance. She huffs and walks around to the other side of the SUV.
So the goal is not to get under her skin. No, I want to get under something else completely. The more she resists me, the harder my dick gets. This feeling is foreign to me. Women usually make this shit too easy. I won’t lie and say it isn’t great to have my pick of pussy, but a challenge may be just what I need for a change of pace. I have to be careful not to get too involved, though. The last thing I need is to have her fall in love with me. Asher really would kick my ass if I break his sister’s heart. No. Get in and get out. That’s the challenge. My dick accepts.
Chapter Three
Harlow
I sip on my mojito, which I have been nursing for the past thirty minutes as I sit here at the bar. Some Layla chick has been refilling my drink every time it gets low. I’m guessing the only reason I haven’t been carded is because she knows I’m with the band. Asher introduced me at the start of the night. Well, I’ll be twenty-one in a year anyway, so who cares? Two beers and two mojitos later, the guys are finally preparing to take the small stage in the back of the room. The mob of women rushing in that direction tips me off that it’s showtime. I slam back the remaining contents in my glass and head toward the side of the stage where I can see but be away from the drunken women ready to throw their panties. Their drunken squeals are somewhat comical. The lights dim as the strobe lights begin to dance. Smoke seeps from the edge of the stage, and I have to say I’m impressed with the effects. The drummer, Ren, starts with a sexy rhythmic tempo followed by a familiar melody strummed by Asher. By the time Killian’s chords are added to the mix, I’m sure that I know this song, but I can’t put my finger on it. That is, until Phoenix’s lips sing the first lyric. Holy. Fucking. Shit. The arrangement is different, but it is Jeremih’s “Fuck You All the Time” song.
Phoenix walks to the end of the stage and scans the crowd until he finds me. His jeans hug his ass in the most sinful way while his plain white T-shirt shows off every etched muscle perfectly. The stage lights shine down on him, and he is standing there looking quite sexy. The women compete for a second of his attention—just for a quick glance. They’re shaking their breasts and hollering obscene things, but he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. His eyes finally lock with mine as he sings the seductive lyrics, and I’m paralyzed at the moment. I want to look away, but I simply can’t. The rock undertones give this song an edge, and it is equal parts sensual. One of Phoenix’s eyebrows arches in question as I flush crimson from the visual. My brain is telling me he is a narcissistic douche, but the ache he is causing between my legs with each lyric that falls from those gorgeous lips is saying otherwise. My kitty will lose this battle, though. I won’t be like the women he is used to and just part my legs for him. I’m sure the alcohol coursing through my blood right now is a contributing factor to this moment of lust.