Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
My chest tightens. “Do you have any idea who might be doing this?”
Travis runs a hand through his hair. “I wish I did. But no.”
I glance at the screen, heart sinking. I have an idea, but I don’t know how he’ll take my theory.
“Do you think it could be Janice?” I ask quietly.
His expression changes, but not in a mean way. “Janice? She’s been tough on you, but I don’t think she’d threaten you like this. She isn’t a bad person. A little obsessive, maybe, but this... I doubt it.”
“It is pretty clear she hates me, Travis, and when I came back, she really wasn’t happy.”
He sighs, but he’s gentle. “I know. But I don’t want to suspect her without proof.”
I let it go for now. “Alright.”
He softens, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you coming to my show tonight?”
I manage a smile. “I’ll be there.”
He grins and kisses my forehead. “How are you feeling today?”
“Terrible,” I admit. “Mornings are rough.”
“Our little bean’s making you work overtime,” he teases.
I laugh despite myself. “Must be a girl then.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “A girl? You want a little rockstar princess causing mayhem?”
I fake groan. “God help me.”
He chuckles. “God help both of us.”
I lean into him, trying to enjoy the moment.
Just a moment.
Because it feels like it’s all going to explode.
When we slip through the side door into the sweltering back hallway of the arena Travis is playing in, the scent of sweat and leather hits me like a wave. I pause outside the open dressing-room door, heart hammering. Stepping inside, I see him standing in front of the mirror in black leather pants so tight they’re almost painted on, yet only he could pull them off. Every contour of his thighs and ass is on display, a sculpted masterpiece of muscle.
He’s stripped to the waist, chest bronzed and gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Thick gold chains loop around his neck and wrists, catching the light as they sway with his slight movements. His dark hair spikes in every direction, each lock defying gravity, and I’m certain his fake nipple rings flash silver against his skin. He turns at the scrape of my heels on the linoleum, and I have to swallow to keep from moaning. He’s perfect.
He steps toward me, and the air between us crackles. I spread my hands over his chest, fingertips brushing the warm planes of his pecs. “You look so fucking hot,” I breathe.
He tilts his head. “You like?”
I lean closer, my pulse thrumming in my ears. “Oh... I like.” I trail my tongue over one nipple, feeling the tiny hard metal bead beneath my tongue. He hisses and leans back against the bench behind him, legs sliding apart, cock somehow hardening in those pants.
“Mischief... stage in five,” he murmurs.
“I only need two,” I say with a wicked grin. I reach for the button of those leather pants, my fingers trembling as I slip the zipper down. The moment his cock springs free—long, thickly veined, unbelievable—I catch my breath. His scent, a heady mix of cologne and something unique to him, swirls around me.
I wrap a hand around his dick, heat pulsing against my palm, and lean forward. My tongue finds the rim of his crown, flicking in slow, deliberate circles. He groans, hips pushing forward as his fingers tangle in my hair, guiding me deeper. The taste of him is warm, clean, and delicious. I swirl my tongue around the tip, then suck gently, coaxing another groan from him. With my free hand, I stroke the base, keeping pace with my mouth as his breathing quickens.
“Gonna—fuck!” he starts, soft and ragged.
I feel the tremors before I taste his release—a sudden, hot wave flooding my tongue. He lets out a low growl, gripping my hair as he shudders. Carefully, I pull back as he slowly softens, a slow smile forming on his lips.
“You’re a bad, bad girl,” he rasps, eyes hooded with pleasure.
I stand, tug his pants back up, and zip him in. He laughs, reaches out to cup my face. “You’re fucking hot too, you know that.”
His words send a thrill through me. But before I can reply, his phone buzzes. Then, just like that, he’s kissing me quickly and darting toward the stage. I follow, finding my VIP chair with Reagan and Jasmine, and taking a seat.
“What did you two talk about in there?” Reagan says grinning.
“Oh, you know, just how tight those pants are.”
She laughs and Jasmine rolls her eyes.
On stage, Travis slides out on his knees beneath a single spotlight. The women in the front row scream his name, faces flushed with adoration. Pride swells in my chest and I can’t help swaying to the pounding beat.
Reagan fans herself dramatically. “I get it now. Your man’s a fucking vision tonight.”
“I know,” I wink, turning back to the stage. Then Harley skids out and gives Reagan a wicked grin.