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32
AVERY
“I can't believeyou ripped my dress!” I mutter as I look in the mirror and attempt to smooth the torn seam.
Bryn looks over from where he sits on the nearby chair. “Should've taken it off quicker then.”
The rip is small, and having my clothes torn by a rock star is pretty damn hot, so I'm not complaining.
I purse my lips at Bryn, semi-naked, covered in muscles and ink, eyes glazing as I remember those inked muscles covering me.
“My eyes are here,” he says, mimicking one of my favourite phrases.
“You’ve had plenty of practice at being a sex object, and used it to your advantage in the past, so stop whining.”
“Double standards!” he gasps.
“You’re the one half-naked!” He bites his lip in amusement. “Stop changing the subject. How will this look if I'm seen leaving a rock star's hotel room with ripped clothes?”
His mouth curves into an all too familiar smile. “Good for my reputation?” A cloud of a thought crosses my mind and spreads to my expression because he holds his arms out, beckoning me over. “You know that was a joke, right?”
I climb on Bryn’s lap and wrap my arms around his neck. He runs his fingers along my bare arm and looks at me with concern. “This isn't one night, Avery.”
“I know.” I push some of Bryn's hair away from his face and kiss his cheek, heart somersaulting at the fact he's looking at me the way I always wanted him to.
“I wish you were staying longer,” he says.
“I have the rest of today but I need to be home tonight. I have class tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” he murmurs, twisting some of my hair around his fingers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Wasn't going to do anything. Why? Do you think I should?” He slides a hand up my bare leg.
“Bryn, I meant what are you doing today!”
“Oh. Right. Spending time with you, of course, if this is the last time I'll see you for a couple of weeks.”
“When are you back in England?”
“March 25th. Manchester then London. You coming to our gig?”
“I suppose. I've never seen Blue Phoenix play,” I admit.
“Really? I've heard we're okay if you want to risk it.”
“Maybe. I’ve heard the drummer's hot as hell. I wonder if he'd let me backstage?”
Bryn winds my hair tighter around his hand. “I'm sure he would but you'd have to be careful.”
“Why?”
“You can’t trust these rock star types; you never know what he might do to you.”
“Mmm?” I rest my forehead on his. “What would that be?”
“Very bad things,” he whispers.
“Such as?”
“Allow me to demonstrate.”
He effortlessly lifts and positions me so I'm straddling him, and I look down, holding his hair from his face.
“Again?” Sleep wasn’t on the agenda last night and I swear he woke me up early on purpose. Where the hell does this man get his stamina from?
“Again.”
