Chapter 46

CHAPTER FOURTY-SIX

LAKE

53 bobas left until we both die … (the same day)

“You did well tonight,” Jacob is saying from the front seat. I’m not sure that Tam is listening to him. He’s got his arms around me, and we’re just … looking at each other. “Even your worst critics are saying you were at the top of your game.”

“Always good to know,” Tam replies simply, and then he yawns. His eyes are half-lidded and sleepy, and I just want to kiss him and keep kissing him.

“Thank you for letting down your guard with me,” I tell him softly, at a volume that hopefully only Tam can hear. “I’ve been having fun with you—even today.”

“Mm, having you waiting for me backstage is … nice.” Tam rests his forehead against my shoulder, and I relax into him. “Having you naked in my bed will be even better,” he murmurs, but I just smile against the side of his neck. “Also, sorry if I smell. I always do after a performance, no matter how much deodorant I wear.”

“You smell good to me,” I admit, and Tam’s arms tighten just a little more.

“A seat belt would be ideal,” Joules gripes, and I sigh, sliding off of Tam to sit next to him. He mumbles sleepily, reaching up to rub at his forehead.

“Here, let me get that,” he says when he realizes I’m having trouble finding the buckle. It’s stuck between the two seats, and Tam dutifully fishes it out for me, hooking my belt first and then his. When he rests his head against the glass, I let him be.

Within the span of maybe thirty seconds, he’s asleep.

I don’t bother him on our way to the airport, but I’m too anxious to sleep. Tam might be used to this lifestyle, but it’s all brand-new for me. I scratch at the curse mark on my wrist as I watch the lights of San Francisco blur past outside the window.

When we get to the airport, we go straight to a private terminal, and I’m afforded the privilege of waking Tam up. He’s pleasant when he comes to, if not a little groggy.

Together, we climb out of the SUV and then board a charter plane to Los Angeles.

It’s fancy as hell in there, with a sofa along one wall, a table in the center with four cushy chairs around it, and a flight attendant whose only job is to take care of me, Tam, Joules, Daniel, Jacob, Pat, and Maggie. That’s it.

Tam sprawls out on the sofa, encouraging me to sit with him as he rests his head on my lap to wait for takeoff. I brush his hair off his forehead with gentle fingers, and my cheeks heat as I remember, even when he was being a dick about the blow job, how nicely he petted and stroked my scalp.

“I’m so tired, Lake,” he murmurs, and I nod.

“I imagine so. Who wouldn’t be after dancing and singing live for four hours straight? You’ve been up since six this morning, and now you’re getting on a plane. It’s a lot.”

Tam captures my hand in his and gives it a little squeeze, but then the poor guy is asleep, and I have the task of waking him up again for takeoff.

Once we’re in the air, Tam resumes his position on the sofa while I sit at the table with Joules, Daniel, and Jacob. Maggie is busy doing some work on her laptop, and Pat is snoring while sitting up.

Tam isn’t the only person who’s tired. Even Joules seems distracted, so I busy myself by messaging the girls back home, sending a selfie to my parents, responding to some messages from my friends at the university.

When it comes time to land, guess who gets to wake Tam up?

“I’m sorry, Lakelynn,” he tells me, sitting on my right and yawning his way through the landing. The flight was quick, an hour and a half at best. And holy crap, how am I ever going to fly economy again after this?

I smile at him and shake my head.

“Don’t be. I’m exhausted, too. I’m just having trouble sleeping.”

Tam curls his fingers through mine, and we both sit there staring at the shape our hands make when they’re entwined. It’s mesmerizing.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be in and out of meetings for the first half of the day, but you can have the afternoon off,” Jacob tells Tam as we unbuckle our seat belts and shuffle out to another waiting SUV.

“Almost home,” Tam whispers, yawning again. He tugs a red beanie over his head and snuggles in beside me for the drive. It only takes about twenty minutes, and then we’re passing a security booth and a gate before making our way up a winding drive to a house that’s ablaze with light.

Most of the walls are glass, but it’s situated in the middle of a large piece of property, all on its own.

“Where are we?” I ask, peering out the windows. Isn’t this Los Angeles? No, this is Beverly Hills, I realize as Tam stretches his arms above his head with a groan.

“At my place,” he says, and when I look his way, he’s grinning wolfishly back at me. “Ten acres all to myself. I just assumed that you’d be staying here. I hope that’s okay? If you’d rather … I could get you a hotel.” Tam is frowning, like it’s just occurred to him that I might want some space.

I shake my head.

Can’t break the curse from a hotel room.

Besides, who would turn down a stay in a house like this?

“No space, remember?” I whisper, and the smirk on his fancy lips … holy crap.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Jacob calls out as we exit the SUV, and Tam waves over his shoulder at him. Daniel and Joules stay with us, and everyone else leaves, heading back down the long drive we just came up.

I look around at the up-lit foliage, at the pool just up the stairs from us, at the dark hills behind the house, and the bright city down in the canyon below.

“Where do you want him to sleep?” Daniel asks, pointing over at Joules. My brother crosses his arms and quirks a brow, waiting as Tam glances over his shoulder. Tam waves his hand around lazily.

“The guest house is up that way.” Tam looks Joules up and down, and even with his eyes half-asleep and his mouth perpetually edging toward another yawn, he gets a little cocky. “If you come into the main house, stay away from my bedroom, okay?”

Tam reaches down for my wrist and pulls me up a curved stone walkway toward the swimming pool. It steams gently in the warm evening air, lights in the ground on all four sides, and in the water as well. We edge past that and to a set of glass doors in an entirely glass wall.

Tam waits for Daniel to enter first and clear the space while Joules heads up a second path, toward another house built in the same style as the one in front of us, like a miniature (relatively miniature) version of the main house.

“I already had his luggage delivered to the guest house,” Tam says, arms crossed in front of him, green eyes on me. “And I had our things brought here.” He turns away before I can respond, and opens the door, letting me step in before him.

Daniel has disappeared somewhere inside, but I imagine if the house is well-lit and air-conditioned and clean, then people have been here. Probably a security team is outside. Ten acres in Beverly Hills, holy shit. Do I even want to know how much Tam paid for this place? Yes, yes, I do. I’m nosy as hell.

I keep the question to myself for the moment, watching Tam as he kicks his shoes off. He’s still yawning as he pads into the kitchen, this sleek bank of gray cabinets with white stone countertops and lots of extra lights. The underside of the upper cabinets are lit. The insides of the cabinets with glass doors are lit. There’s just a lot of extra in here.

Tam opens the fridge and rummages around, drawing out a water bottle and then glancing back at me.

“What do you want to drink, Kayak?” he asks, and I smile, this tenuous sense of waiting slipping over my shoulders.

Tam and I are getting ready to fuck each other, aren’t we?

Only, Daniel is in here somewhere, and I won’t be able to relax fully until I know we’re alone-alone.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any boba in there?” I tease, and I certainly don’t expect Tam to bring me one.

It’s in a cute, little red cup with a colorful label on the front advertising strawberry popping boba. The straw is wrapped in plastic and glued to the side. Ready-to-drink boba tea? I’ve never seen such a thing.

“Here you are, Miss Frost,” he says, and then he takes a seat on the angular sofa in the living room area, and I join him, sitting a careful three or so feet apart. “Daniel won’t be long,” Tam assures me, his eyes bright, his smile edgy.

I shift in my seat a little, detaching the straw from the side of the drink. I pull the plastic off it and then hesitate, unsure where the trash can is in this modern palace that Tam Eyre calls … home? No, I don’t think so. I think that as nice as this place is, it’s still just a house.

“Here.” Tam holds out a hand, and I pass over the wrapper, my fingers scraping across his palm.

“All clear, boss,” Daniel says, reappearing with two other security guards that I’ve never seen before.

“Thanks, Daniel,” Tam says, but he’s still looking at me. He tucks the wrapper into his pocket and waves over his shoulder as Daniel and his men exit the residence.

Door shuts. I hear it lock.

“Are we alone-alone?” I ask Tam, holding the straw above my drink. I have yet to penetrate the lid with it. Have yet to penetrate. Right. Okay.

He leans in toward me, holding that silver and sea green water bottle in his hand, the one he let me drink from at the rental house.

“We’re alone-alone,” he assures me, and then he stands up and holds out a hand. I stab my straw down into the drink and take a sip, reaching out my own hand so that Tam can pull me to my feet. He turns without a word and leads me through a labyrinthine series of passages and then up a set of stairs to his room. “Bedroom lights on,” he commands as he pads into the room, and voilà.

“Very fancy,” I assure him, sucking on the straw of the drink.

Tam glances over his shoulder at me. We’re standing at the end of a massive bed with silky gray linens and a mountain of gold and silver pillows. White nightstands with no legs are affixed to the wall and outfitted with ugly, silver lamps. A couple of dressers. A shelf covered in what I suspect are very precious trophies and awards (several Grammys anyone?). Other than those awards, it’s very cold and impersonal in here.

“How many days a year do you stay here?” I ask as Tam drops my hand and turns, planting his hands on his hips. I suck on my straw again, as if I’m calm, entirely unaffected by standing in Tam Eyre’s bedroom. Better than that, standing in the bedroom of a man who makes me feel like my clothes are an offensive imposition.

I get the feeling that I’m good at it, too, at forcing myself to remain calm when my heartbeat is a hummingbird, and my body feels sweet but empty. Warm honey and spreading thighs. I close my eyes on an exhale, straw still stuck between my lips.

I hear Tam take a step toward me, so I take one back on reflex, cracking a single lid to peep at him.

He looks bemused, maybe a little bit frustrated. A lot anticipatory.

“Dim the bedroom lights,” Tam commands, lowering his voice to a rough whisper. I’m surprised he has any voice left at all, after singing his heart out for the past year. “Why do I get the feeling that none of this impresses you? The house, the money, the fame, the concert.”

“Wrong. I was very impressed with the concert. It’s clear that you’ve worked your ass off to be where you are right now.” I suck on the straw, rewarding myself with several popping boba. I chew them as I watch Tam, tasting strawberry. “But otherwise, you’re right. I don’t care about any of those things.”

Tam adjusts himself, one fist propped on his hip, his other arm hanging by his side.

“Your luggage is over there.” Tam points with his right hand, and I glance over my shoulder to see that my suitcase and my bag are tucked neatly against the window, right next to Tam’s bag—the one with the ruined sweater in it. I really liked that sweater on him, I think. Is it truly not salvageable?

I move another step away from him and turn, and Tam takes hold of my waist from behind.

“I should probably shower first, but I don’t give a shit right now,” he whispers, putting his face up against the side of my neck. I gasp and close my eyes, squeezing the drink in my hand a little too tight.

All day, all of the kissing.

Last night, the fucking-that-wasn’t-quite-fucking.

Push.

Pull.

Tug.

Yank.

Tam shoves the drink from my hand and ignores it when it hits the floor, spattering strawberry liquid everywhere. He kisses my pulse, tastes it, savors the wild, frantic feel of it against his tongue.

I exhale to release the tension in my body, melting back against him and welcoming his touch.

“Good girl,” Tam whispers, and my body erupts in goose bumps. He takes hold of my sweatshirt and yanks it over my shoulders and down my arms. It hits the floor between our bodies as Tam threads his fingers into mine, cradling my back to his front.

His teeth graze my skin as I stare at the shelf of awards, proof that the world loves Tam Eyre.

It should be so easy for me to love him, too.

But can I get him to love me?

Sex with Tam isn’t just something I want to do—and believe me, I want it bad—but it’s also something I have to do. Sex with Tam is sex with my Match. Sex with Tam is cursed. Or, perhaps, curse-breaking.

I try to turn around, but he won’t let me, stopping me with a firm grip on my hip. He slides a single finger underneath my overalls and beneath my T-shirt, stroking my hipbone with slow, needy drags.

His other hand releases mine, palm sliding up the front of me, over my belly, to my breasts. He flicks the metal buckle off the button and one strap falls dangerously off my shoulder.

“Tell me again,” he murmurs against the tender skin of my throat, his tongue a searing swipe of heat along the side of my neck. I tilt my head to give him easier access, and he makes a sound of approval that I can feel in my bones. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Fuck me, Tam Eyre,” I groan, and he yanks the other side of my overalls so hard that something snaps off. The gray fabric falls in a puddle around my sneakers. His fingers find the soft cotton of my panties, stroking once over the already damp spot in the center.

He goes very, very still behind me.

“Kissing me all night, that made you wet, didn’t it, Lake?” I nod because I can’t seem to find the right words. “Mm. Good. Because it drove me fucking crazy.”

Tam turns me around and walks me back into the wall, one palm next to my head, the other on my waist. He kisses me like he’ll die if he doesn’t maintain some sort of contact between us, and I return the favor. I throw my arms around his neck and pull him as close to me as I can get him. My fingers dig into his soft hair, twisting the strands around and yanking on them to see what his reaction might be.

Tam removes his hand from the wall to dig strong fingers into my own hair, gathering it up with that same reverence he used on me before. But that soft touch only lasts a few seconds. Tam’s fingers tighten, nice and slow, forming an impossibly strong grip. He gives a little tug that encourages me to arch my neck for him.

Teeth all over my skin, just a brush of ivory followed by the sweetest, hottest, wettest tongue.

My mind feels like it’s fracturing; I can’t wait any longer.

Tam reaches between us like he can sense my frustration, and he rips his pants open, shoving the denim down his hips. I make a sound when he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up like it takes no effort on his part. He lifts women up all the time onstage, but those are lithe, strong, dancer’s bodies.

Doesn’t matter.

My legs go around him, still wearing my shoes and socks, my thighs bare. I can feel Tam’s erection grinding against my panties, and I wish they were gone, too. I’m over the fabric barriers between us. Like that damn sweater.

Tam keeps me up with a single arm around the waist, and I only have to help a little, clutching onto his neck with shaky hands. He jerks my panties to the side with two fingers, and I feel the hot tip of him. A push, a probe against slick, wanting heat.

I tilt my head back to see Tam looking down at me, almost like he’s waiting. He drops his mouth to mine, an offering, a prayer. I can taste the fervent awe of his attention in every stroke of his tongue, can feel my body fall to simmering supplication in his hands.

His hips drive forward, and the gasp that slips from my throat is caught right up against his. We both go still for a minute, my arms pulling against his neck, his body trembling as he fights the urge to move. Tam adjusts his free hand to my ass, propping me up so that I can stay just like I am, legs open wide around him, body pinned to the wall.

We study each other briefly, my body blooming to make room for him, his adjusting to the tight grip of my inner muscles. I realize with a start how much trust he’s putting in me right now. I told him that I was taking birth control, that I was clean—and I am—but he didn’t question it. Not once.

“Lake,” Tam murmurs, voice laced with adoration and awe. “Mm.” He makes another pleased sound, and then he does exactly what I asked him to do. He fucks me into the wall as I cling to him for dear life, swept away by the sensation of his body inside of mine.

The only person in the world to have Tam Eyre this way, to listen to his private sounds, to watch the careless abandon in his face. He lets go of everything to be with me, and I do the same. My mouth is on his neck, teeth gently scraping his Adam’s apple. He shudders and grips me tighter, working his hips against mine. I’m undulating too, seeking friction and heat. It’s not even a conscious choice, just my body seeking out the pleasure in Tam’s.

“It doesn’t hurt?” he whispers, going still suddenly, like he’s just realized he should check in with me.

“Not at all,” I breathe, my heart fluttering when he tilts his head down, making an effort to kiss me with our height difference at play. He takes it slow, absorbing every wild, frantic breath that leaves my lips. They feel tender and sore, gently used, bee-stung and plump.

“Thank fuck,” Tam grinds out, his mouth hard and commanding. I love it. I relax and let him take over, guiding us both through this frantic joining with one hand kneading my ass cheeks, the other arm ironclad around my waist.

He rolls into me with grace, his finely tuned body meeting the impulsive thrusts of my own hips like he was born to do this with me, like this is our thing. Maybe the curse isn’t so bad after all? I would never have found Tam without it. That thought flickers through my mind, a blasphemous, horrible thing, and then it’s gone, and all I can do is fall even deeper into Tam’s spell.

He weaves magic for me with his body, rubbing his pelvis against mine and taking note when his movements make me gasp. He replicates that same pressure where I need it most, rubbing more than he’s thrusting. There’s so much wetness between our bodies, this slippery slide of him and me.

Pressure coils with each movement, with each nip of his teeth on my lower lip, with the absolute command in his gaze. This is what I asked for, and he’s giving it to me. Fuck me, Tam. Yes, just like that. Stay close.

A tightness, a spreading heat, this need for something more. The climax is right there, but I can’t take it. My body feels unbelievably sensitive, and I know if I just fight a little harder, let that pressure build up to an explosion, that I’ll be rewarded for it.

But I … I shift against Tam, breathing hard, rubbing myself against him as he works his body into my sleek, wet core. I can feel myself wrapping him nice and tight, banding around him, fucking him like he’s fucking me. He pushes, and I pull. He tugs, and I yank. He chases, and I stop running.

“Tam, it’s … I don’t think I can keep going … I …”

“Just a little longer,” he whispers back to me, his voice a rough, carnal grating that strips me raw with his next words. There’s so much heat in them that they burn. “I want to come in you.”

My fingernails dig into Tam’s shoulders, probably leaving marks that will piss Jacob off later.

I don’t care.

The curse chose him for me, and he’s mine.

“Shit.” Tam releases his grip on my ass, slamming his palm into the wall again. He leans his forehead against mine as my body bears down on him, tighter, tighter, tighter. Tam pushes in deep, and I feel him everywhere around me, all at once. And then my body releases suddenly, and he makes this … this sound. It’s a sound that, were it possible to package it and sell it to his fans, would strike a deadly premium. It’s the deepest, most delectable note he’s ever sang, and it’s a song that’s only for me.

I let out a shaky exhale, my legs still spread wide around him, complete with sneakers on my feet.

Tam moves a few more times, almost against his will it seems, and then his entire body is softening against mine, relying on the wall for leverage.

His eyes are closed, sweet panting breaths slipping past his lips.

My entire body is on edge, desperate for more but also desperately in need of a break.

Tam readjusts his grip, both hands on my ass, and then he leans back so that we can look at each other again. He’s the one that starts laughing first, and then I’m laughing, too, and he’s groaning like he’s in pain.

“Not yet,” he breathes out, voice rough. “I want to go again, but not yet.”

I laugh harder, and my body squeezes around his without any input from me.

Tam stands up, stumbles a bit, uses a palm on the wall to steady himself. He shakes his head, and then he turns and takes me over to the bed.

It was right there, and we didn’t make it.

We didn’t even make it to the damn bed.

He helps me down, the slide of his body from mine making me groan as I collapse onto the edge of the mattress. Tam doesn’t waste any time kicking his pants off. He rips his sweater and shirt over his head like they’ve personally offended him.

“Tam,” I whisper, even though we’re the only ones here. Just two people in a house that’s got so many square feet, I’m sure it’s in the five-digit range. Ten thousand square feet? More? “I’m getting your bed all dirty.”

“I don’t care,” he tells me, standing naked in the dim shadows of the room. The only lights come from the atmospheric glow on the underside of the floating nightstands. A nightlight glowing in a socket on the far wall. A weak trickle of light from the cracked bathroom door. Just snippets and snatches of light. “Actually, I do care,” he corrects, kneeling down in front of me. “Just not in the way you might think.”

His fingers work deftly at the laces of my shoes, pulling one off and then the other. He takes one look at my socks—they have boba teas stitched into the ankles—and leaves those on. Tam looks up at me from under a fall of sweat-soaked hair, his eyes dark shadows in the palatial bedroom.

His bedroom.

Tam Eyre’s bedroom.

I look back down at him, trembling, his climax marking my damp panties. Tam curls his fingers around the waistband, making me shiver when his skin rubs over my own sweat-kissed flesh. He drags them down my legs and tosses them aside before helping me out of my shirt.

“And what way might that be?” I ask belatedly, watching in awe as he slides a knee between my legs, reaching around me to unhook my bra. Tam slides it down my arms, his attention on my breasts, his tongue teasing his swollen lower lip.

“I like it,” he tells me unashamedly, the edge of need in his voice undiminished by our quick, frantic coupling against the wall. He sweeps his fingers through my hair again, putting his lips to my forehead. “I like knowing that it’s me, dripping out of you. That it’s only ever been me. That if I just behave myself, it will only be me in the future.” Tam slides his hand back down, cradling my face between his palms. He kisses me, but not as deeply as I want, drawing away when I push forward.

Can he feel me trembling? Does he have any idea the effect that he’s having on me?

“I like knowing that I’m the only woman that’s ever felt you like that,” I admit, and even in the dark, I can see his smile. I can feel it. The heat of it warms my face. “I’m glad that I waited for this, for you.”

I hesitate, like maybe I’ve said too much. In the beginning, Tam was skittish and standoffish and a comment like that might’ve sent him sprinting in the opposite direction.

Not anymore.

“Lake,” he tells me seriously, drawing back to settle on the floor in front of me. Tam takes my leg and gently pushes it open, pressing a kiss to my knee that has me clenching my fingers in his blankets. “I’ll be twenty-seven in five days. Twenty-seven.” He laughs, this private little purr that’s only for me. I wet my lips, and I shift, arching toward him unconsciously. Tam presses another kiss to my inner thigh, and I let my head fall back, hair tickling my shoulders. “The only person who has ever tempted me to lay myself bare has been you.”

He surges up and snatches me around the waist, hauling me up in the bed with him. I’m giggling as Tam fiddles with the blankets, trying to get them over the top of us rather than underneath us. They’re a bit tangled, but he manages, tucking me up close against him and leaning over so that he can kiss me.

My fingers find his hair again, and his do the same to mine. He takes his time with me, holding me close like he’s more than just attracted to me. Tam genuinely cares if I’m having a good time or not.

“Just because I didn’t …” I trail off, my words so raw and vulnerable in the dark. “I’m still having a good time, even if I didn’t come.”

Tam makes this sweet sound of affirmation, brushing his lips over my temple.

“I know.” His smile against my hair is enough to get me writhing again. “I could feel you. Tight, strong contractions, and then a release, like you were welcoming me in. Like an invitation. It felt like you wanted me to come in you.”

“I did want it,” I tell him, and he makes another sound, a much less nice one. It’s male and primal, and it matches the way he kisses my throat with just a little bit of teeth and so much tongue. Tam’s hand covers my left breast, kneading the plump flesh under strong, rough fingertips. When his thumb dances over my nipple, my pelvis bucks up off the bed, and he responds by adjusting himself so that he’s between my spread thighs.

“Such a good girl for me,” Tam murmurs, and then he’s sliding into me again. All of that empty space inside of me is swallowed up, a delicious heavy fullness in my pelvis that he strokes to a bright, hot flame at my center. Instead of rocking and grinding like he did before, Tam pulls all the way out and then slams hard into me.

My back arches, and my fingernails draw down the strong lines of his back. My thigh muscles quiver with the effort of spreading so wide, but I need Tam as close as I can get him, his pelvis tucked securely in my hips.

He draws all the way out before pushing back in, stirring that friction I want so badly. I cling to him, wanting it but fearing that edge, the one that I won’t allow myself to fall from. Tam is so patient, taking me there and then waiting for me to relax. Again, again, again.

I’m panting so heavily, sweating all over him, ruining his back with my nails even though Jacob asked me not to do that. A whole year (almost) of chasing Tam, and here we are. I can feel the curse mark burning against my wrist as Tam sits up, untangling my arms from his neck.

He holds my legs, and then he fucks me nice and hard, my breasts bouncing, my hands coming up to press into the headboard. When the surge of energy gets to be too much, I find my knees clamping together in front of Tam’s chest.

“Wait, wait,” I choke out a single, twisted breath stuck in my chest, an impossible coil of energy at my core. Tam lets me close my legs, but he doesn’t stop thrusting into me. He takes my shoulders with his hands, and then he gently holds me there while I fight against something I really, really want. I can’t explain it. It’s always been this way when I’ve taken care of my own needs. I just can’t get there.

Tam makes me go all the way, holding me down with patient hands, his cock stoking and stoking and stoking. I’m trembling violently, gasping for breath, my own hands like claws on his biceps. I push at him, but it doesn’t do me any good. If I want him to stop, I’ll have to tell him to stop.

But I can’t talk, and it feels so good, and I’m coming completely unraveled.

With a cry that I just know will embarrass me come daylight, I unfurl underneath Tam. I might scream. I definitely hurt him a little with my fingernails, unsure whether I’m pulling him close or pushing him away. I’m trembling so violently under that onslaught, a sweep of pleasure that hits in the spine and tears through me. In my chest, in my fingers, in my toes, in the laugh that spills from my throat.

And then I’m half-crying and half-laughing as Tam kisses the corner of my mouth, rolling off of me to collapse on his back. He throws an arm over his own face, and he’s laughing, too.

“Holy shit, did you just come?” he asks, adjusting his arm so that he can look at me. It’s hard to see much in the dark, but I scoot closer to him anyway, and he turns on his side to face me.

“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, feeling sleepy but satisfied.

“First time?” he clarifies, and I nod against the pillow. “Good.” Tam puts his hand on the back of my head, kissing the sweat from my face. “Then I get to keep that, too. And I’m greedy, Lake. I’m hungry. I don’t know how I come across to you, but I didn’t get to where I am without learning to take what I want, when I want it.”

I shiver all over, sliding my palm down the taut muscles of his belly. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over how gorgeous he is, strong and supple and lean. My fingers find his hardness beneath the blankets, wet from my body and his own earlier release.

“Right there,” he groans, sliding an arm under me and dragging me a little closer. Makes it harder for me to jerk him off, but I like the closeness, the feel of his breath in my hair, the sound of his heartbeat. My thumb circles the head of Tam’s cock, slips across the sensitive slit on the underside, brings him shuddering to climax, the spill of him trapped between our bodies.

We lay in silence for a minute, listening to the combined sound of panting breaths.

“Stay right here for me,” Tam says softly, getting out of bed and heading into the bathroom. He comes back with a cool, wet cloth, mopping up the mess of him on my skin, drawing the fabric down over my belly to my thighs, cleaning me up with gentle strokes that have me trembling all over again.

“I think I just had a sexual awakening,” I whisper in awe, waiting for Tam to finish his cursory cleanup of the bed. He tosses the towel on the floor to deal with later, and I wonder if he has a cleaning crew or … of course he has a cleaning crew.

“Yeah?” Tam asks, climbing back into bed and pulling me to him. He sounds ridiculously pleased with himself. “Me, too.” He chuckles as he wraps me up nice and tight, my head tucked under his chin. I nuzzle into him with a sigh, happy and content.

This moment would be perfect if … I ignore the burn of the curse mark on my wrist.

So, there you go.

Tam and I went all the way, and the mark is still inked into my flesh.

I ignore the sting of that reality and focus on the present instead. Tam is cradling me like I’m something precious, something worth keeping.

Fatigue and satisfaction sweep over me, and I fall into oblivion with international megastar Tam Eyre breathing sweetly and softly beside me.