I sighed in disappointment when he pulled away.
“I want to go with you.” I didn’t particularly like the fighting, but it was better to hate watching him fight than to stay home wondering and not knowing if he was okay.
“No.” He started his bike, reeving the engine.
I placed my hands on my hips and raised my brows. “No?”
“Yeah, Eme. No. I don’t want you around those people.”
“So, I don’t have a say in this?”
“No.” He sighed, lowered his head, and looked back up at me. “Eme, I don’t want you hurt.”
“Hurt? You’re the one doing the fighting. And I want to be there. I want to make sure you’re okay. It’ll kill me to stay at home wondering if you’re injured. Please, Sculpt.”
He shut off his bike and stared at me for a few seconds, his face expressionless. Then he grabbed my hand and lifted my left leg over the seat of the bike so I was facing him. His hand drove into my hair and yanked back.
I gasped at the pain that instantly became pleasure. Then his mouth came down on mine. It was possessive and raw, almost painful, but it stole my breath, held it captive, and chained me to him.
He groaned, hand tightening in my hair as he nipped at my lower lip, kissing me again. My thighs were over the top of his, my pelvis was digging into his groin that was hard and pressing into me. Damp panties were riding into my crotch, and my limbs were shaking as only Sculpt could do to me with a single kiss. There was no going back. This was it. This was him, and even if he never told me anything about his childhood, I belonged to him.
“What the fuck?” Matt’s voice shouted as the front door slammed so hard the house probably shook. He strode toward us, and I quickly hopped off the bike.
“Sculpt, go.” He ignored me and climbed off then put his hand on the small of my back “What are you doing? He’s going to kill you.”
Sculpt’s brows rose. “Eme, really?”
Okay, that was stupid, but Matt was a big guy, and I really didn’t want to see two men I adored fight one another. I went to stand in front of Sculpt to intercept, but he caught my hand and pulled me behind him.
“Sculpt,” I objected.
“Mouse.”
“Emily, get in the house.” Matt stopped abruptly in front of Sculpt, his shoes making a skidding noise on the pavement. “I told you to stay away from her. I warned you.”
Matt threw a punch, and instead of defending himself, Sculpt pushed me out of the way just before Matt’s fist connected with his cheek. I heard the sound of bone smashing into bone.
“No! Matt, no. Please.” I scrambled forward just as Sculpt hauled off and hit Matt in return, but his punch was much harder and landed Matt on his ass. “Matt.” I ran over and fell onto my knees beside him.
Matt rubbed his jaw then tested it. “Nice punch, asshole.” He came to his feet, then helped me to mine. “And now you’re out of a gig.”
“What? Matt, you hit him first.” I pulled on his arm.
Sculpt shrugged. “Your loss, buddy. The club only makes it because of Torn. You want to flounder in shitty-ass bands then go for it.” Sculpt stepped forward and got right in Matt’s face. “I’m not giving her up. Ever.”
My breath hitched, and Matt must have heard, because he glanced at me.
“Shit.” He ran his hand through his hair muttering a few choice words under his breath.
“Matt.” Sculpt looked at me and then back at Matt. “I want her to come on tour with the band.”
My mouth dropped open. We’d never talked about me going with him on tour.
“Jesus,” Matt muttered then started pacing. “Emily’s like my little sister. And you, Sculpt . . . are dangerous. You know why? Because not a single person knows who you are. That’s what I don’t like, and that’s why Emily won’t be going anywhere with you.”
Sculpt got right up in Matt’s face, his voice controlled. “That’s her choice to make, not yours.” Sculpt didn’t wait for a reply as he turned toward his bike. He threw his leg over the seat, then looked at me. “Eme.” He disengaged the clutch then pressed the ignition.
I looked from Sculpt’s retreating bike to Matt and back again. Oh God. He said I could go with him. He was giving me a choice. But I couldn’t. I loved Matt; he’d been there for me growing up, but Sculpt . . . Was Sculpt my path ahead? Was I really going to have to choose between them?
“Fuck, Emily.” Matt sighed. “You’re going to get hurt.”
I looked at the ground, because I knew that was a big possibility, and I didn’t want him to see the truth in my eyes. Going with Sculpt . . . it wasn’t an option. I knew that. I had to make it on my own and going with Sculpt would just lead to me being a burden on him. A person he’d have to look after and ruin his chances at stardom. Shit, my mom had said, she couldn’t become an architect because she got pregnant with me.
Matt put his arm around me and pulled me into a hug. I rested my cheek against his chest hearing the steady rhythm of his heart. “He scares me, Eme. I asked around, and even his band mates know pretty much nothing about his past. Did he even tell you he and his mother moved here when he was sixteen? Do you know where he lived before? Has he mentioned anything?”
I shook my head.
The hardness suddenly shifted from him, and I saw the vulnerability in his face. The pierced lips softened and curved downward while his shoulders slumped as if his muscles had finally released all their tension. He sighed while he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re going to see him anyway, aren’t you?” Matt asked, his tone was much softer, resigned.