Idol (VIP 1)

“And they don’t mind?”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip. Truth? Or lie? But it isn’t really even a question. “They thought I was cracked at first. Then I showed them the songs and played that recording we did of ‘Artful Girl’.”

I used my phone for that, and the sound quality was shit, but Libby’s talent shone through even then. It had been more than enough, for almost everyone. Jax is being a pain in the ass. But I’d expected as much.

I rub the back of my stiff neck. “They want to meet you.”

It feels like an eternity before she talks. “Okay, I’ll come. I’m not promising I’ll go through with it. But I’ll try.”

Every tense muscle I have seems to release at once, and I lean on the console. I swallow hard before answering her. “I won’t say anything about us. But once we’re alone, all bets are off. That’s my time, Libby. And I intend to use it well.”

I swear I can feel her blush through the phone. But then her husky voice comes in strong. “Good. I’ve been left to using my imagination, so you’d better be creative.”

This girl.

My dick is thick and demanding in my jeans now. Palming the head to ease its pain, I grind out the only thing I can. “Get here.”

Libby

My legs feel rubbery as I end my call with Killian. I’m going to do this. I’m going on tour with Kill John. I want to throw up. I want to see Killian so badly my teeth hurt. But performing on stage? That’s another kettle.

I’d rather focus on his last words and the heated need in his voice. He’d been hurting—the same way I’m hurting now. I didn’t know it was possible to feel empty between my legs, to actually want a cock in there so bad it aches. No, not just any cock. Killian’s. It has to be his now. Damn the man, but he gets to me.

But I have guests camped out in my house, and I’m not walking around with hard nipples and flushed skin. So I take a deep breath and think of the time I walked in on Grandmama watching porn. Sufficiently horrified, I walk back into the living room.

“You look green around the gills,” Brenna remarks. “Tell me that’s because you’re coming to New York.”

Close enough. I nod.

Scottie goes…less stiff. “Very good.” He looks me straight in the eye. It hits me anew how attractive this guy is. Not even sexually, though he has that too, but just the sheer force of his looks is enough to make me speechless. His crisp British accent doesn’t hurt either. “You’ve made the right decision, Ms. Bell.”

“Is that based on you not having to pass me any more notes in study hall, Mr. Scott?”

His eyes narrow. “Precisely.”

While Brenna snickers, he stands and pulls his cuffs back into place. “I have a few calls to make.”

The second Scottie is out of the room, I relax. I’m not proud of this. But damn.

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” Brenna says in a whisper that carries all over the house. “How insanely gorgeous Scottie is?”

She’s either too good at reading people or just as dazed in the man’s presence as I am. I’m guessing a little of both by the way she seems to shake herself out of a trance.

“Are you and he…”

“God, no,” she says with a snort.

“Flattering.” Scottie’s dry tone catches us red-handed as he walks back into the room. He really is unfairly man-pretty. All shiny and chiseled. Not my type, but a girl can admire.

“Obviously you heard me say you were hot,” Brenna says. “You don’t need any more of an inflated head.”

Scottie takes a seat on my grandma’s pink chintz armchair. Surrounded by flowers, he sits as regally as if it were a throne. “Looks are one thing. You insinuated that my character was faulty, which is far worse.”

“Oh, stop fishing.” Brenna turns to me. “He passes the first test but failed the second. And it has nothing to do with personality but basic chemistry. We have none.”

“What are the tests?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Scottie urges. “Enlighten us, dear.” He glances at me. “She’s right, though. No sexual chemistry to speak of.”

Brenna takes a sip of lemonade. “Whether you admit it or not, every person you meet, you assess for two basic things: hotness and fuckability.” She nods and continues. “Test one: Hotness. How hot do you find a person? Obviously Scottie’s hotness goes to eleven. He knows it. We all know it. Test two: Fuckability. Given the circumstances, would you want to do them?”

“This is true,” I admit, holding up my hand. “Yes and no.” Because I know she’s going to ask if Scottie passes those for me. Of course he’s hot. And though he acts like a snooty old man, he can’t be much older than thirty. But no matter how good-looking he is, there’s only Killian for me now.