Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)(49)

Most of the girls looked sleepy and even the guys looked done, and it was only ten, but most of us had been up as early as 3 a.m. on set, so it was to be expected.

I yawned behind my hand then just gave up and laid my head in Will’s lap, I didn’t realize he was playing with my hair until he suddenly stopped.

“Let’s get home,” he said.

I nodded as he helped me to my feet.

“Make sure you feed her,” Zane said in a mocking tone. “Just in case she didn’t eat enough food…”

I could have sworn Will said something like, “If only she’d let me,” but I was too tired to care.





I CARRIED HER to her bedroom, she was slumped in my arms like she was in a sugar coma. As gently as I could I removed her shoes and tucked her under the covers as I’d done a million times before the breakup.

Before we broke.

She sighed and turned on her side, pieces of marshmallow stuck to her hair.

I grinned and slowly pulled them away.

“Night.” I kissed her forehead, only to have her hand shoot out and grab my right biceps, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.

“Stay.” She pleaded in a sleepy voice. “Please, just stay.”

I gulped, licking my lips, turning and looking at the doorway I very well should walk through, the only escape before I made the choice that would change whatever we had been building between us.

Sink or swim.

Fight or flight.

The easy road, walking out of that room.

Ignoring the fast beating of my heart, the rhythm of my pulse as it sped up when her eyes blinked open like she was waiting for certain rejection.

I peeled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor.

She reached out and touched my stomach, her fingers tickled against the skin, I sucked in a breath.

Always her, it had always been her.

She inched her fingers, like she was counting each divot made my muscle, only to run her nails down my sides. “Either you take steroids or you’ve been taking all your anger out on the weight room.”

I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Steroids.”

She sobered when my lips met her ear. I pulled back and waited for her to say something like, “Hey can we take this slow,” or “This is a really bad idea.” Hell, I knew it was a bad idea yet I couldn’t walk away, not again.

Not when the last time I saw her beneath the sheets, she was in someone else’s arms, not when the last time I saw her, she ignored me after we got in a public fight at a bar.

“You broke my heart too,” She said, lips trembling. “I think it may still be broken, just like yours.”

She didn’t ask if it was.

It was like she just knew.

“I’m still sad,” I confessed.

“I’m devastated.” She grabbed me by the hair and fused her mouth to mine, tugging me against her soft body, her cotton T-shirt that smelled like salt and the ocean. Like marshmallows and wet sand.

It was my new favorite smell.

And because of that, because of the feeling of her in my arms, again still with so much separating us, I returned her kiss, pressing her hands behind her head as I took control, she kicked off the sheets.

I reached for her shirt.

And stopped.

“This won’t fix us,” I whispered against her mouth.

“I know.” Tears filled her eyes. “I just wish I knew what would.”

I lay back down, heart pounding, and pulled her into my arms. “Sleep.”





“SOMEONE DIDN’T GET any food last night,” Zane said in a singsong voice as he strummed his damn guitar and wrote down a few lyrics.

We were on set waiting for our call times, and when I say we, I meant me. Zane just decided it would be fun to torture me while he wrote another hit song and made millions of dollars with no shirt on.

“Can we not talk about this?” I hissed, “Let’s talk about your tour, the last company did a shit job, we need to hit it bigger with—”

“I’m not going on tour,” Zane interrupted. “I just got done touring man, I want a break.”

“But—” I frowned. “You realize that you earned over twenty-eight mil on your last tour right?”

“What the hell do you think I need more money for?” He stopped strumming. “I write music because I love it, because I have to, because it’s my passion. You know this about me, it’s why you look so damn sad all the time. You quit because of her, you quit it all, and you lost yourself man, you lost your fucking music.” He dropped his guitar and walked off.

“He’s right.” Ang picked up the acoustic guitar and handed it to me, she was in her normal uniform of boyfriend jeans, a t-shirt and ball cap. “You just… quit life.”