Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,42

a dirty mouth.”

I wince. “Swear jar?”

“Yep.”

“Back in nanny mode, then.” I take out a dollar from my wallet and shove it at him. “Fine. Now, I’m going to go before it gets any worse and I end up having to pay you to employ me.”

“We’ll record more tomorrow night.”

“O-okay. So, the recording thing is still happening?”

“Yes, Lyric, I still want to record your demo. Sex was never a condition of that offer.”

“No, I know that. I just … it might be awkward.” And I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to walk away again.

I need to find a way to work with him without drooling all over him.

That task might be harder than a guy on a double dose of Viagra.

“We can keep professional distance,” Ryder says. “I’ve been doing it since you started working for me.”

I pull back. “What?”

“Please. You’re gorgeous. I wanted to jump you the day we met even though you insulted me.”

I don’t know what to say to that, but everything inside me wants to make a joke or reply with something witty. The notion that Ryder wanted me when we met is absurd.

The notion this is even being talked about is weird. And wrong.

We stay, standing close enough to breathe each other in, but there’s something more than just a foot of air between us. Feels like finality when it should be a beginning.

“Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you back here at nine.”

I hold up the keys to his car. “Thanks again for this.”

“You should look at getting a car of your own now that you have income.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Well, until then, if you ever need one …”

My chest warms. Damn him. “You might need to stop being so nice.”

“Why?”

“Because that professional distance thing? So not gonna happen if you keep this up.”

I walk away from him before we do something we’ll both regret.

Only, as soon as I’m in the car, I regret not doing something even more.

I can’t help wondering what he tastes like.

If he’s sweet and tender or rough and take-charge.

I shiver at the thought. At either of those scenarios.

I should’ve kissed him.

Ideally, he’d kiss with all tongue and bad breath, and then I’d be so turned off by him I’d be satisfied with ending my curiosity.

Instead, I spend the whole drive home thinking of his big, pouty lips and the smell of his spicy cologne.

I fantasize about how hard he’d kiss. If he’d back me up against a wall or throw me down face-first.

Stop it, Lyric.

I need to forget about Ryder Kennedy.

These blurred lines aren’t good for either of us.

And speaking of blurred lines, my dick didn’t get the memo about Ryder being off-limits. No, it keeps sending messages to my brain. Clear images of Ryder in his bed right now. Maybe staring up at the ceiling and having the exact same thoughts I am.

Even though it’s a fantasy, I can’t help wishing it were real. And even though I know I should stop, I don’t.

By the time I pull into my brother’s driveway and kill the engine, I’m hard as fuck and begging for relief.

My hand unzips my jeans and takes my cock out.

This feels wrong, doing this in Ryder’s car, but it also feels so hot.

Images of Ryder tossing and turning, unable to sleep because his thoughts are full of me, my songs, my voice, keep filling my head.

He’d imagine what it would be like to kiss me. Maybe bend me over his control desk in the sound room.

Comically, while he’d be pounding into me, I’d reach out to hold on to something—anything—and accidentally mess with all the settings. Then the next time he uses the studio and one of his artists sounds like a chipmunk, he’d remember how he’d fucked me and be distracted for the rest of his session.

He’d come find me afterward and would tell Kaylee to keep watching TV or to go play by herself, and unlike real life where we know that wouldn’t last long, she’d do it no questions asked while Ryder pulled me into the bathroom and got down on his knees for me.

His mouth would move over my hard cock, slowly and teasingly, because this is my fantasy world, and we have no possibility of being interrupted by a tiny human and could take as long as we wanted.

He’d want to take his time, go slow, but with him sucking on my hot skin and my cock nudging the back of his throat, I wouldn’t be