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Without thinking, I dart back to the car, am there in two steps, jump into the back seat and give Sookie’s arm a tug.
“OW!” He’s taller than the others, he’ll get seen, he scrambles to the back seat just in time for me to cover him with my body.
Chest heaving, I slap a hand across his mouth. He doesn’t move.
The van stops by the elevator, right next to us.
I’m suddenly thankful that I paid extra to have my windows more tinted as two guys with cameras start joking and flicking their cigarettes onto the ground.
A third guy gets out of the van with some camera equipment.
I rack my brain. I know another group—a warring one that’s forced to play nice—lives in the other penthouse, represented by FS as well, they’re newer and known for not really caring about the ‘idol’ rules which means I’m pretty sure they’re about to be the biggest headache of my career. I have a meeting with their manager later this afternoon.
Maybe we’ll be lucky and it’s one of them. I can only hope they aren’t leaving the dorms with prostitutes or something else that will get them in trouble.
One of the guys comes from a really wealthy family known for a notorious hosting scandal at one of their bars, but they have enough money to quietly cover things up—for now. I only know about it because of client attorney privilege and now I wish I didn’t.
Sookie grips my wrist when the guys start walking toward my car. I keep my head down.
“Nice model.” One takes a picture of it with his camera, and I hate the intrusion, but if I get out and rip it out of his hands, they’ll see Sookie.
This is my fault.
We should have gone faster.
“Trust me?” He says under my hand while they continue to circle my car.
“Always.”
He jerks my hand away and kisses me. Hard.
It’s like my body’s been in a catatonic state and it surges back to life.
I try to pull away because of all the reasons why, but he jerks me back and slams his hand against the window. They can’t see us, and they know an idol wouldn’t dare do this in daylight. I know this… I know this; I keep telling myself. But then, reason, logic, all thoughts that are not lust related fly out of my mind, because only one thing matters.
Sookie is kissing me for the second time.
He pulls me harder against him, the car moves.
One of the photographers jumps back. “Wow, nice lunch break.”
The other laughs. “That’s my kind of meal.”
They continue to cackle but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Nor do I care. My brain has stopped functioning because Sookie slides his tongue into my mouth and every feeling I’ve suppressed. Every single second of our first encounter that I’ve tried to forget, all of it moves through me and I remember how much he turns me on.
I hate him in this moment.
I hate him, but…
I don’t hate him.
I want to pull away—not because I don’t want him to be doing exactly what he is doing at this moment, but because I forced myself to forget what it was like in his arms. I forced myself to forget the way he makes me feel inside and out.
He’s warm, lean, but strong. You would never know he was the youngest, he certainly doesn’t act or feel like it right now. I realize I have no business touching him, but I let myself go for this one moment and revel in the feeling of being in his strong arms. Yes, they’re strong. They are so goddamn strong. He might play a part on stage, the shy innocent youngest member, but in the privacy of the car he’s different—the hot kind of alpha male aggressive different, the raw masculinity kind of different.
The kind of different that every girl wants to experience.
He’s in total control.
