The Rock Star’s Fake Fiancee - Kenzie Reed Page 0,59
a tough time of it growing up. After our mother died, our stepfather turned into an abusive asshole. Treated his own son like gold, and I was bigger than Magnus and I could fight back, so he didn’t go as hard on me. But Magnus was his punching bag.”
He taps his eyebrow, his finger tracing the scar. “That happened during my last fight with him. I went after him because I found out that he burned Magnus with his cigar. On more than one occasion.”
“Holy shit.” Then I slap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I said that word. Then again, I can’t believe that happened to Magnus.
“I dragged Magnus to the police station and made him tell the cops. Our stepfather went to jail, our stepbrother went to live with his relatives, and we were in foster care for a year until I turned eighteen.”
His face twists in remembered pain, and I reach out and take his hand. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I’m glad it’s behind you, but it’s terrible that you had to go through that.”
“Magnus just took the abuse, for years, because he was afraid if he told anyone we’d end up in foster care and we’d get separated. I blame myself. It was my responsibility to take care of him.”
I squeeze his hand gently, and he returns it with a squeeze of his own.
“He seems to have turned out all right,” I say. “Other than his addiction to bad puns. Really, really bad puns. But he’s not shaving his head and joining a cult, or robbing banks or anything.”
Sebastian smiles wryly. “Anyway. I didn’t mean to dump all my trauma on you. I just want you to understand why I was so single-minded about keeping the band going.”
Well, if he wanted to keep the band together, then those years of trashing hotel rooms and getting in bar fights probably wasn’t his smartest move. But now that he’s told me about his past, I understand why he was under so much pressure that he snapped sometimes. And it sounds like he never had anyone to set a good example for him and show him how to deal with stress in a healthy way.
“It’s in the past.” I meet his gaze and stare into his gorgeous whiskey-colored eyes. “And I’m right here with you now. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I know what I want right this minute.”
“What’s that?”
“You, you moron. Right here. On this hay bale.”
His mouth curls up in a gorgeous grin, and it feels like the sun sliding out from behind a cloud, bathing me in its heat. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”
He reaches over and unbuttons the top button of my blouse.
“There’s a condition.”
I laugh. “Oh, is there?”
“You can’t sneak out on me again. You promise me, right now, that you won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Oh yeah? What happens if I don’t promise?”
His eyes gleam wickedly. “I withhold sex.”
Looking at him, I think he means it. I clap my hands to my chest in exaggerated dismay. “I swear to you, on the biggest stack of Bibles you ever saw, that I will not leave without saying goodbye.”
Chapter Seventeen
Callie
The next moment, I’m in his arms and he’s kissing me with all the sweet hunger and yearning I heard in his lyrics. His lips are a fierce, warm pressure against mine, and as I let out a gasp of longing, he darts his tongue teasingly into my mouth.
He runs his hand down my body, skimming the side of my breast, cupping my waist and sliding over my hip. He bunches the fabric of my skirt in his fist so he can hitch my bare thigh up against his hip and press himself against my core. His very hard, very thick…self.
He lays me back against the fragrant hay, fingers teasing the velvety insides of my thighs, their pads calloused from caressing his guitar strings. He deepens his kiss, pressing me back against the hay bale with his big, muscular body.
“Ouch!” I wriggle uncomfortably.
He pulls back, eyebrow raised, slashed through with that sexy little scar. “Ouch? That’s not really what I was going for. I was hoping for ‘Ooh la la’. Maybe even ‘Yowza’.”
His words are light, but I can see a shadow of genuine worry in those whiskey-colored eyes. Eyes that make me feel drunk and giddy and foolish and warm inside.
I let my lips curve in a smile so he knows I’m playing, and he relaxes. “We have a