Pop Star (Famous #1) - Eden Finley Page 0,43

it.

I might like it too much.

Because as the cum between us cools and the fog of orgasm fades, I’m filled with the icy feeling of regret.

I think we just fucked everything up.

Harley eventually rolls off me and onto his back but doesn’t say anything.

We stare at the ceiling, still breathing heavy.

I don’t dare move. Maybe if I lie still enough, I’ll become invisible.

“Brix?” Harley’s voice is soft.

“Mm?

“We should get cleaned up.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not moving.”

“Neither are you,” I point out, but my eyes are still glued above me.

We fall silent again.

Neither of us move.

“You going to clear the bathroom for me?”

I feel his smile more than see it.

“If there’s someone in the bathroom, they just got a good show. They probably won’t attack you after that. Applaud, maybe.” I hope my tone is playful. I hope to hell I’m covering that I’m freaking out, but I don’t think I am.

“Okay, I’m going to go shower.” As he slides out of bed, he stares over his shoulder at me. I assume in invitation.

Instead of taking him up on the offer, I nod. “You do that.”

He doesn’t linger. As soon as the door to the bathroom is closed behind him, I let out a loud breath and sit up.

I reach for my shirt on the ground to wipe myself off and sit back on the bed.

The shower starts in the next room, and damn it, I could really use one, but if I go in there, I know there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though this whole thing was a mistake, it’s one my body wants to make over and over and over again.

Fuck, what did I do?

I hang my head in my hands.

Okay, rational thought time.

Worst case is Trav takes me off this job, and it’ll be a few more years to clear my debt and be able to afford a better care facility.

This was my ticket out, and I went and fucked it. Literally.

I fall on my back on the mattress and cover my face with my arm.

My muscles are wound tight despite the earth-shattering orgasm.

“Brix?” Harley’s voice startles me, and when I look up, he’s standing by my legs wearing only a towel. I didn’t hear the shower shut off.

“Harley, I …” I what?

I made a mistake? He’s a mistake? I don’t want him thinking that. For someone who’s loved by millions of people, Harley has shockingly low self-worth.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I say. It’s the truth. “I didn’t bring you here … for that. I …”

He does the public-ready smile I hate. “I know. It’s okay. We got lost in a moment. That’s all.”

It was more than a moment, but it would be wrong to say that out loud.

I clear my throat. “Right. A moment.”

“But, uh, if we’re going to forget it ever happened, I might need my bed back.”

“Sorry.” I pull myself up, still naked, standing in front of him now just inches away. My cock doesn’t understand I’m trying to refrain and twitches, wanting more. I should really get some underwear and cover up, but I don’t. “I really am sorry.”

His lips form a thin line.

“I still mean every single word I said. You don’t have to be someone else around me.”

“Sure.”

“Wait, I can’t have this conversation naked.” I find my boxer briefs on the floor.

“It’s okay. We don’t need the conversation.”

I pull them on. “We do. If I didn’t need this job, it’d be a different story. You wouldn’t be able to keep me off you. But I do need this job.”

Harley folds his arms. “Then let’s talk about that. Why do you need it?”

I grit my teeth. “Harley—”

“No, no. You wanted the conversation, so let’s have it.”

“I need the money. I’m in debt. A lot of debt.”

“Gambling addiction?”

I almost want to lie and say yes, but I don’t. “Medical bills.”

Harley schools his surprised reaction but barely. He eyes me as if trying to figure out how I’m hurt, sick, or injured. “What for?”

“I’ve already told you more than any of those guys know.” I wave in the direction of the door.

“End of discussion, then.” Harley throws himself on the bed.

I stay standing, feeling completely helpless. My head throbs, and I rub my temples.

“Goodnight, Brix.”

“Goodnight.” I make my way to the tiny, uncomfortable couch.

Chapter Thirteen

Harley

“What’s a word that rhymes with regret?” I ask on the way home the next day.

Brix doesn’t respond.

“Forget. It’s not exact but close enough.” I scribble that down.

Brix doesn’t take his eyes off

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