Page 50 of The Encore’s Crown

My brain has fully logged off. After what Kiri did to me last night, the fact I can still speak is kind of iconic.

“I gathered. Are you okay?"

“Yes.”

It's not a lie, technically. I'm more than okay physically. My body is practically glowing with contentment. Emotionally, I’m balancing on a wire above an active volcano, but that wasn’t the question.

She nods.

“Good. Then get ready.”

“I’m going.”

“You have thirty-eight minutes now.”

“Leave.”

She shoves a coffee in my hand then spins and heads back toward the door. Before leaving, she looks back.

“If anything happened last night—”

“Nothing happened. I'm alone, still in the same clothes and everything. Is that not good enough for you?”

Her eyebrows rise but I force myself not to fidget. Kasia’s gaze settles on me for one long, terrible second. Then she nods and the door closes behind her. I stand in the middle of the room holding my coffee.

Nothing happened. Just his mouth all over me, his hand between my legs, his voice talking me through an orgasm so intense I lost all my inhibitions.

Practically nothing.

I grab my phone but there's no new messages. My chest constricts. I throw it back down and head for the bathroom.

“Fine. I didn't need a dumb good morning anyway."

I'm going to shower, fix my face, then put on something guaranteed to make Kiri suffer. If I have to spend the entire day trapped on a tour bus with him, pretending I’m not replaying every second of last night, I might as well make it work to my advantage.

This day is going to be a fucking nightmare.

For both of us, if I have anything to do with it.

Chapter 22

Ashes Of Olympus

Kiri

Someone is trying to murder my door. The pounding drags me out of sleep one blunt hit at a time, my head lifting from the mattress only to drop straight back down when the room tilts. I have no idea where I am, what city I’m in, or why my entire body feels like it got wrung through industrial machinery. Then the hammering starts again.

“Kiri!”

Rithy.

I groan into the sheets. My mouth tastes stale, my hair is still damp enough to have soaked a cold patch into the pillow, and something is digging into my hip. The towel. I passed out naked except for a towel after taking the world’s least effective shower.

“Kiri, open the fucking door.”

“God damn, give me a second. I’m alive,” I call, except it comes out as noise that could just as easily mean I’m dying.

“Prove it.”