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San Francisco, only fifteen to twenty minutes away from Berkeley. It wasn’t that long ago that I was sitting in my dorm room plotting with Julianna on how to get to him.
Now I feel ancient compared to that girl. I cross my legs, prop the pillows behind me, and look around the room. We need the maid, but Rhys is writing so, no one but us is allowed in.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and mentally prepare for tonight. It’s the last concert of the tour.
My mind wanders to how I need to call Julianna and tell her I’m not coming back.
I miss her. She’s the only thing I do miss about my old life. After the fucking nightmare with my mom and dealing with Christie, yeah, Julianna is definitely the only one I miss.
Rhys ended up firing his mom’s doctors. He then put her in a private hospital in Malibu. It sounds as if she’s making progress, and her medication is stabilizing her. I know she’s been calling, but he’s been writing music.
Watching Rhys write, create, seeing the way his mind works… God, I’m in so deep with him, nothing can tear me away.
He’s my everything, my fucking world.
He’s beautiful, a musical genius, and he can fuck like a god. My face turns pink and my nipples harden. I want him, twenty-four seven.
I’m starting to worry I have a real problem. All I have to do is think of him and I’m wet.
Damn it.
I need a shower and have to get up. I almost reach down to take the edge off. But why bother? It’s never as good with my fingers anymore.
It’s like he’s trained my pussy to crave his thick, pierced cock, and nothing else will do. Except for his fingers and tongue. Leaping out of bed, I put the cigarette out and march into the bathroom.
Rhys is probably doing a sound check, or did he miss that this morning? Where the hell is my phone? Not that he’s gonna answer. Most of the time, he forgets it. Although, with his mom in the hospital, I think he’s trying to be better.
My eyes longingly shift to the giant tub. Screw it, I have time. The concert is not for a couple hours, and soaking in the tub will do wonders for my body.
I turn on the gold faucet and reach for the pretty bottles laid out on a gold tray. They all smell delicious, so I dump in the one that smells like a combo of vanilla and lavender.
Turning, I look at myself in the large mirror. I look like a different person. My lips are swollen from constantly being kissed; my nipples are dark from being sucked. I’m flushed.
Jesus, I look wild. I definitely have lost weight, but who cares? I have full breasts, so it balances it out. Trying to shake my unease, I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth.
It’s weird that he hasn’t called or left a note. I take a deep breath. I’m being absurd. He hasn’t left the room in days, and he has to perform tonight. I’m sure he’s with the guys. Maybe he’s showing them his new stuff?
I spit and rinse. “Everything is okay,” I tell myself. Exhaling, I sink into the hot tub. But now I’m getting paranoid. I can’t enjoy this. I need to wash up and go find him. I’m just reaching for the gel when I hear the door click open and I freeze.
“Rhys?” Nothing.
“Rhys?” I shout, standing. “Rhys?” I reach for a towel, glancing around for a weapon. What if it’s a crazy fan who’s somehow gotten in and is going to kill me because I’m not Granger?
“Brat?”
I scream as I reach for the edge of the tub. “What the fuck? You jerk.” I throw the towel at him. Of course, it misses him, not even getting close. He looks at it, then leans against the door. His dark eyes inspect my face, and he smirks as he stares at my breasts.
“Stop it.” I sink back down. “I thought it was a lunatic fan coming to kill me,” I huff, leaning back until the bubbles are up to my neck.
He watches with his arms crossed, his hair a mess, the dark strands making my fingers itch to run through them.
Pushing off the doorframe, he enters, stopping at the edge. “Why are you all flushed?” His voice is deep, gravelly, and of course my nipples harden and my clit throbs.
“What do you mean? I’m taking a hot bath,” I snip. He leans down, his hands on both sides of the tub.
“Let me see,” he says, and I can smell the bourbon from here.
My eyes narrow. “Where were you?”
“Out.” He grins as his hand reaches into the tub and wraps around my ankle. “Rhys, stop it. I’m not in the mood.” I try to jerk my ankle away, but he holds on as water splashes up to my face.
