His hands slipped under her shirt, his fingertips making small circles on the bare skin of her stomach and just like that her hangover disappeared. In its place, a small fever started under his fingertips, snaking out, making her skin feel too tight and her breath too fast and she wanted to drown in his deep blue eyes. “I do, but fuck, Violet, you deserve so much more. I tried to get rid of you yesterday morning, not because I don’t like you, because I do, but because you were already inching under my skin.” He released a dark, muted laugh. “I need to end this and say goodbye, but now I don’t think I can.”
“Don’t give me what you think I deserve, give me what I want. The rest will sort itself out.”
Tipping his head up toward the ceiling, he closed his eyes, his breath ragged. “You really want this, Little Violet, because there’s no going back.”
She cupped his face with her hands. “Yes,” she answered, lifting up onto the tips of her bare toes. As she brushed her lips across his, his eyes were still closed and he didn’t make any move to kiss her back. His lips remained frozen and mulish against hers.
Just when she was beginning to experience the sting of rejection hollowing out her heart, his eyes opened and he cradled her head his hands. “All right, Little Violet, let’s try this. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you or make dumb decisions, but I want to see where this goes even if it only means two weeks,” he said, tracing the peaks and valleys of her lips with his roughened fingertip.
“Two weeks for us. No strings. No promises, just us enjoying our time together.” She cocked her head to the side. “I like it. Let’s do this.”
And then he laughed. “Yes, Violet.” He brushed his warm, moist lips across hers. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Why are you making me get dressed again?” Violet asked as she rummaged through her drawers.
“It’s a surprise. Just put on anything. We’re going to be late.”
She tossed a t-shirt at him. “Do you know how hard it is to find something to wear in my hungover state, much less find something comfortable?”
He stepped behind her, circling his arms around her dainty waist. He loved her subtle, yet sexy curves and the way her long blonde hair reached the middle of her back. “A dress,” he whispered against her ear.
“What?” she said, two little lines making an appearance between her eyebrows as she looked at him over her shoulder.
He smoothed the lines. “Yes, a dress. No color coordination is necessary and it should be loose enough that it’s comfortable.”
“Ah.” She pushed his arms away as she leapt in the direction of her closet. “Did I ever tell you you’re brilliant?”
“No, but I’ll take all the praise you want to offer. I’m greedy like that.”
“I have a feeling you get more than your fair share of praise with or without mine.”
He nodded as he fingered a few dresses hanging in her closet. “Some,” he answered, his voice barely audible. He did get praise—praise from his fans and sometimes from music critics, but more often than not, it felt empty and unearned in his twisted mind.
“This one is perfect,” Violet said, pulling out a white shift dress with corded lace lining the bottom.
He eyed the dress and the triumphant smile on her sexy, yet innocent lips and cursed the surprise waiting for her at the Foundation. She was intoxicating in the best possible way and he couldn’t stop himself from sampling her at that moment even if her house were on fire.
Grabbing her hips, he pulled her against him, needing to be connected to her. “Let me help you get dressed,” he said, his voice quivering with longing. Something about this girl made him want a future filled with love, laughter, and the American dream.
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
Too bad. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. The possessive need to see her body again in the light of day roared through him. “Take this off,” he practically growled as he tore her t-shirt over her head, tossing it on the floor next to their feet. His eyes zeroed in on her naked breasts, completely exposed, just aching for his touch. His breath irregular, his fingertips traced her nipples before lowering his head and pulling one into his mouth. He had to taste her, just a quick nibble. They didn’t have time for much more, but that didn’t mean he didn’t intend to take advantage of the situation.
When her hands circled his shoulders, pulling him closer, he moved to the other nipple, giving it equal attention, flicking his tongue over the hard bud, wishing he’d worn his lip ring so he could run it along her sensitized flesh. “You taste amazing. Did I tell you that the other night?”