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Manaconda(42)

By:Cari Quinn


Not exactly what I’d been expecting when I checked my messages. Carter, my assistant, was fielding dozens of calls for new clients as well.

Hunter was undoubtedly good for my career, but I wasn’t sure he was good for my peace of mind. My breath stalled as he licked my lips open. Was he giving them a show?

Was I letting him?

I just didn’t know anymore. Lost in the moment, I tasted the sweet juice on his tongue, and the underlying flavor that was Hunter. I’d binged on it all night.

I already missed it.

I was in so much trouble.

He drew back, nuzzling my nose before he leaned back. “Think they got that?”

I cleared my throat. “Without a doubt.”

“Good.” He added a packet of raw sugar to his coffee and took a sip. “Should keep them talking.”

“Right.” Playing a role. I doctored my coffee with cream and sugar and finished three cups by the time we finished our breakfast. I didn’t even want the eggs, but I knew I needed the fuel.

I was still buzzy from my night with Hunter, but I knew the moment he was out of my air space I’d crash. I’m not sure we’d managed two hours of sleep all night.

I reached for the carafe when my phone buzzed. Hunter reached for his phone at the same time. Before I could get my phone out Hunter read his.

He sagged back against the cushion.

“What?”

“Guess who got a third print run?”

I flicked my phone to life. And sure enough I had a text saying the same from Carter. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah. Too bad it’s not because my interview was so scintillating.”

I moved over next to him. “I think the whole rock star thing includes a sex symbol status. It’s just part of the packaging. People would wander off if the inside wasn’t just as appealing.”

“You aren’t the one signing, ‘This manaconda is looking for a girl like you’ over your cock.”

I had to press my lips together not to laugh.

“Don’t laugh. That’s one of the clean ones.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He hauled me astride his lap. “You want to.”

I let out a surprised gasp and looked over my shoulder.

“Excuse me, Miss? Over here please.”

I turned back to him my cheeks aching with the need to smile. “Yes, sir?”

“Were you looking for a signature?”

I shook my head. “I’m far more interested in the flesh and blood version. I don’t need a picture.”

He pulled me down tighter. “Damn right.”

“Seven it is,” I said against his mouth and curled my arms around his neck.

“Fuck yes.”





17





Hunter





I pressed my forehead to the stone wall outside of Enigma. I had a headache from all the neon and strobe lights. It felt like it had been days since I’d touched Kenny, instead of twelve hours.

I wanted to go back to the rooftop cafe, or better yet the suite we’d spent the night in. Anywhere but here.

“They’re looking for you.”

I grunted at Wyatt.

“Bats is currently doing champagne glass-sized shots of Johnny Walker Blue.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“And Victoria is here.”

I pushed off the wall. “What the fuck? Why?” Indie knew not to let Victoria come to any of our functions.

“She’s the plus one for some chick named Bethany something-or-other.”

I frowned. The name niggled. Why did I know it?

“Where’s Indie?”

“Putting out fires from the radio clusterfuck.”

“Today has been nothing but clusterfuck.” What should have been an interview and acoustic jam session had turned into a free for all when the station offered ten Rolling Stone magazines for some Jackass worthy stunts to get signatures.

Two girls actually rappelled down the building and wrote the lyrics to our new song on the window. That one had landed on Instagram on my own account.

The rest had included hijacking our limo, bum rushing us in the elevator, and one girl even got me in a goddamn urinal.

Wyatt swiped a hand over his unusually scruffy face. “Agreed, son.”

We were all exhausted and still had four more days to this hell-week aka release week.

A roar from inside Enigma had both of our eyebrows raising. What the fuck now?

“Oh, my God. Can we get a picture?”

I glanced down at two women—no, make that girls, and how the fuck did they get into the club?—both had magazines, cell phones out, and Sharpies.

Christ.

I scribbled my name over the covers. Wyatt growled behind me when the girls handed him their phones to take a picture.

Yeah, just another day in paradise.

I knew they got the fake smile, but I couldn’t give two shits at that particular moment. Not at what was unfolding as we went down the three steps to get inside the main part of the club.