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To look at our reflection.
I gripped his wrist in both my hands in an instinctive, half-assed attempt to free myself, but he just squeezed me tighter and shook me gently, like he was trying to break through my anger.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Jem Sinclair?” he demanded roughly. “Do you?”
I shook my head—a tiny, ineffective motion, since my jaw was still gripped in his fingers.
“Look harder,” he urged, his breath warm against my skin.
The edge of the wooden table bit into the front of my thighs, and I could hardly hear my own thoughts over the rushing of my pulse. The hard heat of him against my back made me shiver. Made me crave.
Did I know what he saw when he looked at me? I didn’t have a clue. For a moment, I was almost afraid to know.
“I see pure fucking talent. I see someone who’s going to leave his own mark and his own legacy, no matter what.” He lowered his head so his mouth was practically against my ear as he whispered, “I see someone who needs to stop worrying what other people think.”
His eyes in the mirror held all of the promising heat I’d imagined when I’d jerked off thinking of him, and just like that, my anger was gone…
Replaced by something that burned far hotter.
I yanked at his wrist for real. “Let go of me, man,” I growled.
Dawson’s grip loosened instantly.
I spun in place and put my hands flat on his chest, and he took a half step back, anticipating my need for space. But instead of pushing him away, my fingers grabbed his shirt to yank him forward.
He stumbled into me as our lips crashed together. The familiar feel of his mouth on mine, the recognizable taste of him… made my head spin. I wanted more. So fucking much more.
Dawson’s hands grabbed at my sides to keep us both from falling, but he quickly moved his large arms around me and held me tightly again. For once, I had him where I wanted without having to listen to our cue.
Without having to stop.
The kiss was hungry and desperate, almost violent. Our teeth bruised my upper lip, and the harsh sounds of our grunting filled the small space around us.
“Don’t you dare change your mind,” he ordered between biting pulls on my lower lip.
I let out a whimper in response that sounded so needy, my cheeks heated with embarrassment. I was rock hard for him and couldn’t help but press my dick against his.
“Want you. Don’t fucking move,” he said. His hand came around between us and fumbled at my waistband until I felt my pants open and his warm, fumbling fingers shove deep into my briefs. As soon as his fingers wrapped around my cock, I sucked in a breath and squeezed my eyes closed.
“Make me come,” I begged. “Wanna come.”
“Look at me.”
My eyes popped open in surprise.
“Let me suck you off.”
I nodded eagerly, my mouth too busy sucking in oxygen to make a decent response.
The sight of Dawson sinking to his knees for me was too much. I tackled him to the ground and scrambled around until I had his pants open and we were sucking each other off on the floor like wild animals. It was quick and hot and so beyond professional, I would have been horrified had I not been so incredibly turned on by it all.
My hands clenched his bare ass cheeks as I feasted on his heavy cock. I was in heaven. I was sucking off Dawson Priest, the man I’d had a crush on for months and months.
He was single. And right at this moment, he was all mine.
The man between my legs did something magical with his tongue, and my vision got spotty. “Gonna come,” I gasped. “Fuck.”
He ran a finger between my ass cheeks and brushed against my hole. Just the thought of him there was enough to bring my climax to a blinding roar. I sputtered as his cum flooded my mouth a moment later, nearly choking me. I yanked my head back and almost knocked myself out on a table leg.
When Dawson glanced down at my cum-covered face, he barked out a laugh. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.”
“Mpfh.” I turned over and hauled my ass up to grab a box of tissue off the dressing table. We sat half-dressed on the floor while we did our best to clean ourselves off.
It was awkward as hell.
What did this mean? Anything? And how would us fucking affect our chemistry onstage?
Before I could say anything, Dawson ruined everything.
“Obviously that was a mistake.”
I didn’t know how to even begin to respond to such an offensive statement, so I simply stared at him while he continued. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking truly regretful.
“You’re sorry?” My voice dripped with annoyance.
