Idol (VIP 1)

“Talk to you a lot, do they?”

I grin against her neck. “Yes. Right now, they’re saying, ‘If we don’t get acquainted with Libby’s pretty pussy, we’re going on strike, and we’re taking the dick with us.’”

She laughs. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s a bluff. They’ll cave in a heartbeat. Besides—” I lift my head and grin. “My dick had decided never to leave your side.”

“Goof.”

“Only for you.”

Our peace is broken by a sudden slamming on the front door, followed by a familiar feminine bellow. “Killian James, get your trashy butt out here before I call the baby daddy police on you!”

I freeze, horror prickling my skin, as I stare down at Libby.

She’s gone still beneath me, her eyes wide as saucers.

Then they narrow. “I’m assuming you know the person trying to knock my door down?”

I give her a weak smile. “Yes. That’s Brenna James. My cousin and all around pain in the ass.”

Said pain in the ass is still pounding on the door and bellowing my name. If it wouldn’t upset my Aunt Anna, I’d kill the little brat.

Libby glances toward the door and back to me. “You knocked up your cousin?”

“Ha.” I glare at her and reluctantly pull away. “You’re a riot.” Grabbing my shorts off the floor, I haul them on and button them. “I’m letting her in before someone actually does call the cops. It’s happened before.”

When I’m greeted with silence, I turn and find Libby frowning at me. My back stiffens. “You’re not seriously questioning this.” I take a step back toward her. “Because I’m all for getting in that bed and demonstrating, in thorough detail, how you’re the only woman in my life.”

“Kiiiilliaaaaan!”

I swear Brenna’s screech could raise the dead.

“I think we’d have an audience,” Libby deadpans. She hasn’t moved from her spot. Less than five minutes ago, I was in there with her, warm and content. I’m cold now. I want back in.

“I don’t care.” Libby’s faith in me is more important. I need it.

I move to unbutton my shorts when my cell starts playing “Welcome to the Jungle.” Fucking hell. The pest is calling too.

Libby bites her lip but then bursts out laughing, a low, rolling sound. “Go open the door. I’ve gotta meet this girl.”

My shoulders drop, and I smile. “Your funeral, baby doll.”

“Killian Alejandro James! I just got a bug in my mouth, and it’s all your fault!”

Libby snorts. “Sounds more like yours.”

Shaking my head, I go to let the beast in.

Libby

Despite my teasing, I don’t want to go out and meet Killian’s cousin. I’m not even sure why. All I know is dread lies like lead in my stomach. This feels like the end, the happy little bubble that Killian and I lived in burst by the arrival of his relative.

The way his body jolted, his face freezing in horror, when he heard Brenna for the first time, knocked me clear out of Lust Land. For one heart-wrenching moment, the words baby daddy hung in the air, depriving me of mine. The pain had been so all-consuming, I’d wanted to vomit.

This doesn’t bode well for me. Do I trust Killian? Yes. He’s too impulsive, forthright to hide another woman from me. I don’t think he’s capable of that level of deceit. I don’t think he’d bother, truth be told. Killian says and does exactly what he wants.

The problem lies with me; I’m half in love with a man who will drift through my life like smoke in the wind.

I hate that my hand shakes as I apply mascara. Scowling in the mirror, I toss the wand down. Fancying up to impress another woman. New low, Liberty. New low.

Voices in the living room create a hum in the air, punctuated by the higher-pitched comments of Killian’s cousin. Just how many people are out there?

I turn the corner and stop short.

Killian stands, hands low on his hip, face twisted in a scowl, as he talks to what could arguably be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I mean, wow. Glossy black hair, aqua eyes, tan skin—dude could be David Gandy’s twin. Dressed in a pale gray suit, he looks like he stepped off a runway in Milan and jetted over here for a chat. He also appears to be about as pleased as Killian.

“The fact that I am in this backwater burg ought to tell you how serious this is.” His British accent is as crisp as his suit. “Playtime is officially over, Killian.”

“Funny,” Killian drawls, low and irritated. “I don’t recall putting you in charge of my life.”

One cool brow raises. “It would have been the day you signed a contract allowing me to manage your band. More to the point, it would be when you bid me to get Jax back to work as soon as possible.”

Killian winces at that, glancing off, his jaw hard.