Spotlight by Eden Finley Page 0,56

to watch?”

I lick my lips. “Don’t care.”

Ryder’s blue eyes fill with heat. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

I reach for a Twizzler and shove it into my mouth. “Yup.”

His hand grips my shirt—well, his shirt—to pull me close, but I stop a breath away from his mouth.

“Don’t hurt your pretty face.”

He tilts his head. “Huh?”

I move his hand from the shirt and smooth it out. “Your pretty face.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Never claimed not to be.”

Next thing I know, I’m on my back with Ryder on top of me, his mouth on mine, his hand in my hair, and I know without a doubt there’s no way we can go back to how we were before.

What we have is too pure.

Ryder’s hand slips between us, rubbing over my cock.

Okay, so it’s not entirely pure, but it’s natural.

It’s … indescribable.

I don’t want to put pressure on him or us or what this could potentially be, but I need him to try, and I’m not sure he’s there yet. I’m not sure he ever will be when his focus is one hundred percent on Kaylee.

It’s admirable, but he also needs to learn to take something for himself.

I want to be that for him, but it’s a tough situation.

If this doesn’t work out, it could break all three of us.

Chapter Seventeen

Ryder

With Lyric’s lips on mine, it’s hard to remember why I have my no-dating rule.

When we’re like this, pressed against each other, grinding and feeling each other up, it’s easy to forget who I am.

I’m not Ryder Kennedy or someone’s father, and I’m not a guy from a boy band.

I’m a man who has absolutely no control over his lust.

In the past, I was never sex-driven. It was always kind of a bonus if I got some, and I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever been desperate for it.

I’ve never felt the need to jerk someone off in the middle of a recording session.

When Lyric hinted at regret, internal alarm bells went off, telling me to hold on to him as hard as I could because only a fool would let someone like him get away.

But this whole situation scares the shit out of me.

There are too many what-ifs running through my head and too much fear this will blow up.

That’s why, even though I’m begging for more right now, I slow down.

My kisses become softer. My touch gentler.

Lyric separates his lips from mine, resting his head against the couch cushion. “Everything okay?”

“Food will be here soon, and if we keep going, one of us is going to have to answer the door naked.”

“I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”

“Thank you for your sacrifice, but the delivery guys know me, and if a naked guy opens the door, I assume tabloids would be all over that.”

“Oh, right. You know, sometimes it’s easy to forget you’re famous.”

“You mean, me signing autographs and taking pictures for almost an hour today didn’t remind you?”

“It did, but here”—Lyric’s hand cups my cheek—“you’re just Ryder to me.”

Damn. Why do those words affect me so deeply? It’s like they’re reaching into my soul and giving me something I didn’t know I desperately needed.

I’m frozen in awe.

“Did I say something wrong? Do you have, like, a fandom kink or something? Want me to be all”—Lyric raises his voice to go high-pitched—“‘Ooh, Ryder Kennedy, I love Eleven, and you’re sooooo cute. Will you have my babies and marrrrry me? I’m wearing your shirt and everything!’ Does that do it for ya?”

I burst out laughing and climb off him to sit up properly.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sits up too and looks at me with a concerned scrunch in his brow. “What happened just now?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I think the only other time someone has seen me as ‘just Ryder’ was when I was with Maggie. When …” I gesture with my hand for him to come to the conclusion himself.

“When Kaylee was …?”

“Yup. When Kaylee was made. Conceived? I don’t know, pick the most unromantic word you can find because that describes it to a tee.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

I huff. “You want to know the intimate details about me being with a woman?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I meant,” he says. “Give me exact body parts and recreate the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

I think about it for a minute. It’s obviously not a story Maggie or I share with people. But for some reason, I want