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With a groan, Viper pulled away. “Too fuckin’ tempting, you know that?”
“You might’ve mentioned it a time or two.”
“Because it’s true,” he said, and then nodded at the pool. “You done here?”
“Unless you wanna join me. Although if you do that, we’ll be late to the studio.”
“Mmm, about that…” Viper grabbed my chin and brought me forward to suck my lower lip into his mouth, but before he let things go further, he said, “Jared’s out sick today.”
“Which means…?”
Viper snatched the check out of my hand and grinned. “We’re gonna go celebrate.”
“Seriously?”
“A check this big means you’ve gotta spend it.”
I thought about my run-down apartment back home and frowned. “I should probably save it.”
“There’s more than enough here to do both. You deserve something you’ve had your eye on. You work harder than the rest of us assholes, so don’t give me any of this ‘I’m saving it’ bullshit. We’re goin’ out.”
Viper got to his feet, and I squinted up at him, bringing my hand up to block the sun. “Just you and me?”
“Well, I’m not inviting any of those fuckers. Are you?”
I grinned and stood up, toweling off. “Sounds like a date.” When Viper didn’t respond, just held my check out to me once I was done drying off, I thought about calling him out on it. We’d gone out a few times here and there, usually with the others, but occasionally on our own, and never once had he acknowledged it was anything more than “hanging out.” I knew better, though. Viper may not want to admit it, but you didn’t spend week after week with someone and not call it dating. But hey, if he wanted to live in denial, who was I to stop him?
“I guess we’ll have to behave ourselves,” I said, reaching for his hand. He didn’t resist my touch—he never did—and I tugged him toward me, moving my free hand around to grab hold of his ass. “So none of this while we’re in public, huh?”
Viper slid his fingers under the waistband of my shorts. “No.”
“Or this?” I tilted my head up and pressed my lips against his.
“Nope,” Viper murmured against my mouth. “It’s just easier this way…”
With his hips flush against mine, I could feel his erection stirring behind his shorts, and I moved the hand I had on his ass to his growing cock. “I don’t know. It feels pretty hard to me.”
Viper groaned and brought his hands up to my face to take my lips in a vicious kiss before he jerked away and took a couple of steps back. “Fuckin’ behave,” he said, though his body was saying anything but. I found it ironic that the tables had turned and now it was Viper showing restraint, but as much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was right. With the new album on the horizon, the last thing we needed to do was take our casual whatever public.
His eyes trailed down my body, taking in every soaked inch, and then he backed away, rubbing his face. “Get dressed or we won’t be going anywhere.”
“That a threat or a promise?” I called out after him, but the only reaction I got from him as he walked away was his middle finger.
“HOW DID YOU know?” I circled the Manson MB-1 guitar slowly, my eyes roaming over the instrument and my hands itching to play.
“How’d I know you’d fuckin’ orgasm over this baby? Please, Angel. It’s like you think I don’t know you at all.” Viper smirked at my hesitation to come closer. “You can touch it. Play it. Lick it.”
I stepped closer, my fingers running down the length of the body, and then with careful hands, I lifted the guitar out of its stand. The weight felt good in my arms, the long, lean body a gorgeous glossy red glitter. I looked around us, waiting for someone to run over and tell me to put it down, but when no one seemed to be paying attention, I quietly strummed.
“You can’t pussyfoot with a guitar like that,” Viper said, crossing his arms. “Play it like you fuckin’ mean it.”
I snorted, but the man had a point. Closing my eyes, I let loose, playing with no direction whatsoever, but relishing the unique sound of the guitar. This one came with a Korg Kaoss Pad too, which would make any noise my heart desired. I’d been dying to get my hands on this bad boy for years now, and it played even better than I’d dreamed.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Viper said, and whether he was talking about the guitar or me, I didn’t know, but I selfishly hoped it was the latter.
“Nice, isn’t it?” came an unfamiliar male voice, and as I stopped playing, my eyes shot open. A man with a nametag that proclaimed him Paul, the store manager, watched me with a polite smile, but when he got a good look at my face, his mouth parted. “Are you…?” Then he looked at Viper, and even with a hat pulled low and sunglasses covering his face, a fan would recognize him in a heartbeat.
