if I kiss him, then I’ll fuck him—maybe even in this room. And if I fuck him, especially here, then I’ll lose all my bargaining power on item number two—which, frankly, is the far more critical item for me to secure.
I stand stock still in front of Reed, my chest heaving from my little dance, to discover Reed’s cheeks blazing red and a massive erection bulging behind his pants. Oh, God, that hard-on is making my mouth water. I want to rub myself against it... and then pull it out of its bondage and ride it like a pony.
But, no.
I have to remain strong.
I have to get through my second demand without folding like a beach chair, or I’ll never again have a shred of bargaining power with him. That much is clear.
Out of nowhere, Reed clears his throat and abruptly strides across the room. “You want a beer, party animal?”
I plop onto the couch, my heart racing. “Sure. Thanks.”
Reed’s gorgeous body is poetry in motion as he glides across the room. His ass divine. He grabs two bottles from a mini-fridge, pops their caps, crosses the room again, and hands a cold bottle to me. To my surprise, he sits next to me on the couch this time, foregoing his armchair. And, as he settles into his seat, I can’t help noticing his boner is gone.
Reed takes a long swig of his beer. “Just a heads up about the party,” he says. “Red Card Riot won’t be there. They’ll still be on tour. But that’s for the best, because I want to introduce you to 22 Goats, and they won’t come if RCR is invited.”
I tilt my head. “The 22 Goats guys don’t like the RCR guys?”
“Wow. You don’t follow celebrity gossip at all, do you?”
I shake my head.
“C-Bomb and Dax had a pretty big falling out. The other guys don’t give a shit about any of it, but nobody in either band is willing to cross the picket line. They’ve gotta support their guy. It’s how it works in a band.”
I open my mouth to say, “I bet my stepsister, Alessandra, would know all about the beef between C-Bomb and Dax. She follows celebrity gossip religiously, especially when it comes to musicians.” But, instantly, I shut my mouth, realizing I now need to add “item one-and-a-half” to my list of demands. Crap! I can’t attend Reed’s rock-star-studded party without bringing Alessandra as my plus-one. And not even as a ploy to get her signed to River Records. No, that’s what my second item will address. But because Alessandra, the girl who attends a renowned music school and is obsessed with music and musicians, and always has been, deserves more than anyone I know—and far more than me—to party like a rock star with Reed’s roster of world-renowned rock stars. “Hey, uh, before we leave item one for good... ” I begin.
“Oh, for the love of fuck!” Reed blurts, throwing up his hand. “What now, Georgie?”
I press my palms together in prayer. “Can I please bring someone to the party, as my plus-one? I mean, not as a date or anything. Someone—”
“Your stepsister?”
I nod sheepishly. “Not as a ploy to get her signed. She could stand in a corner and people-watch the entire night and never talk to you or anyone, and it would still be the best night of her life.”
Reed swigs his beer, rolling his eyes. “She’s a student at Berklee in Boston, you said?”
I nod effusively. “She just finished her second year last week. She’s in LA for my graduation. Please, please, don’t make that poor girl sit at her mother’s house watching Netflix on a Saturday night while I’m at your house, partying like a rock star with 22 Goats.”
Reed pauses. And then shocks me by saying, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“She can come.”
Without meaning to do it, I leap onto his lap and straddle him. “Thank you!” I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Instantly, Reed’s erection hardens deliciously underneath me. “On one condition,” he adds.
I freeze on top of him, panting... and wait.
“Neither of you will try, even once, to get me to listen to her music that night.”
“I promise.”
“I’ll be off the clock, Georgie.”
I nod enthusiastically. “I promise I’ll control myself. And, don’t worry, Alessandra would never try to sell herself to you, anyway. Not that night, or ever. She’s painfully shy and the worst at tooting her own horn. Plus, I’m sure she’ll be too star-struck