His hands gripped my hips, and I rose again, moaning as he filled me quickly and completely.

“Yes,” he forced out as my hands blindly touched my own breasts, my orgasm coming hard and quick. His hands tightened on my hips, and I rose up again, allowing him to drive into me. “Come for me, Nalia, only me.”

“Only you,” I whimpered as another wave of pleasure hit me, nearly causing me to collapse against him. He held me in place, his hips pumping into me hard and fast, the bed squeaking from the force. “Owen!”

“Yes!” he shouted, sweat building on his forehead as he gripped my hips, his pace quickening. “God, yes!”

I felt him stiffen, and then he let out a guttural groan as I collapsed against his chest. For a moment, I heard nothing but the harsh breathing and the rapid heartbeat under my cheek. I felt strangely sated, though some of our other sexual encounters had been longer. I had felt the need tonight to keep my heart tucked away in my chest, yet, somehow, I had lost myself in him—heart, body, and soul.

His hand drifted to my hair, and he chuckled, the rumbling under my cheek. “God, you’re amazing.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said as he slid over and allowed me to fall into the bed.

He disposed of the condom and climbed back naked into the bed, reaching for me and pulling me close to him. “The hell you didn’t. It might have been quick, but it was the hottest connection I have ever had.”

I smiled as his arm tucked under my breasts, the warmth of his body against mine a comfort. My heart was in turmoil, enjoying the moment that oozed so much aching tenderness that I wanted to cry into the pillow. Why had I developed feelings for him? Why had I put myself in this position to be hurt and hurt badly?

It wasn’t long before Owen’s breathing evened out and I realized that he had fallen asleep, though my own body was still revving from the encounter. Just like earlier, I was antsy, unsure of what to do. Careful not to wake him, I slid from his arms and gathered my clothes, throwing them on in case someone had come to the penthouse while we were busy.

I took one last look at the bed and sighed. He looked so different when he slept, not the bigger than life rock star that I watched on stage, but somewhat vulnerable. His lips were curved into a slight smile, and I could only hope I had put it there. I tenderly kissed his forehead.

Opening the door, I was relieved to see that the living room was void of anyone else. Good. I didn’t want any awkward encounters tonight. I had done exactly what I had planned on not doing, and though I knew in my head it wasn’t smart to keep this attraction going between Owen and me, my heart was saying something completely different.

I flopped on the couch and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I needed to make sure that no awkward photos or comments were being made about the band. Plus, I needed to update their social media pages with the new shots I had taken tonight.

Pulling up one of my favorite media sites, my heart dropped into my stomach as I saw the photo plastered all over the front page. A photo of Owen and some woman wrapped around him in the back of the concert venue, her lips on his. What the hell? Weren’t those the same lips that had just kissed me senseless all the way to the bedroom? My stomach sank.

Throwing my phone on the couch, I ground my eyes with the palms of my hands, feeling nauseous. I was no different than the rest of those women. I was easy access, nothing more than a bed partner.

Well, I was so done with being such. I was going to finish this round of concert

s and go back to my normal life, even if I wasn’t going to feel normal. They could find someone to replace me for when they started up the next leg of the tour.

Chapter Thirty-One

Owen

The last strains of the song faded away, and I just stood there, unsure of how I felt about it. Before me was the stadium we would be playing in later that night. While empty now, it would be packed to the rafters with screaming fans in a matter of hours, yet, I felt strangely detached from the excitement I normally felt. We had played out a few songs, but they hadn't sounded quite up to par.

Of course, with all that was running through my mind, the music hadn't done too much for me. I couldn’t shake the void I was feeling inside me. The worst part was that I knew exactly why I was feeling that way, and it was pissing me off.

For over a month, Nalia had been avoiding me like the plague—exiting the room when I entered, refusing to answer my calls, and only responding to texts that were directly related to the tour. If she needed to speak to someone in the band or give instructions, she would only talk to Talon or one of the other guys, never to me. It was like the moments we had spent together had all been nothing but a dream and she had no idea who I was. And not only that, but it was like she had no interest whatsoever in knowing, either.

“Owen.”

I turned to see my brother right behind me, a concerned look spread across his face. It actually looked a hell of a lot more like pity than concern, and I hated to be pitied more than anything. It was getting to me.

“You were fucking off on that beat,” I blurted at him.

“What?”

“You heard me,” I said, the anger I was feeling over Nalia ignoring me was starting to wash through my core. “You were off.”

Talon’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer. “Get a grip, dude, and stop dishing out bullshit just because you’re in a shitty mood. Because what you just said is pure bullshit. I was far from being off.”

“Tell yourself what you want,” I shot back.

“Ask any one of the other guys in the band. You're the problem, Owen. Your singing sucked, man; you missed half your cues and were hitting off key all over the place. Where the hell is your head?” he questioned.

Tags: Claire Adams Billionaire Romance
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