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“Thought about it,” she said, breathless at his nearness and open affection.

He smiled. “But you didn’t. That’s all that counts.”

He let her go when the other guys strolled in, and he made introductions. Geoff and Braxton shook her hand, and though they were subtle about it, they both clearly gave her a once-over. She fought the insecurity that tried to well up at their perusal. She doubted she looked anything like the type Pike and these guys usually hooked up with. But she wasn’t going to feel bad about not being twenty-three and stick thin. This was who she was. If Pike wasn’t into it, he wouldn’t have asked her here tonight.

Pike nodded at her. “Oakley came to the festival to see us play.”

“Y’all were great,” she said. “I couldn’t get the songs out of my head for days.”

“Yeah, and if I remember right, you thought Geoff was ridiculously hot on stage,” Pike offered, mischief in his eyes.

Her neck went hot when Geoff grinned wide, but she wasn’t going to let Pike get the last word. “I did say that. You free tonight, Geoff?”

Braxton let out a bark of a laugh and Geoff winked. “Totally. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart.”

Pike’s mouth flattened, and he put a hand on Geoff’s chest when he tried to step toward Oakley. Pike sent her a look. “Well played, Ms. Easton.”

She smirked.

“On that note,” Braxton said. “We’re out of here. I don’t want your girl to realize she’s getting stuck with the ugliest member of the band.”

Oakley laughed. Truth was, all three of them were pretty damn gorgeous—the other two dark and scruffy to Pike’s platinum—Braxton lean and long and Geoff broad-shouldered and built. But neither of them drew her eye like the blond, tattooed drummer who was currently giving her a you’re-all-mine look.

The guys exchanged their good-byes and headed out, leaving Pike and Oakley facing off in the control room. He gave her skirt-and-flowy-blouse combo a slow, rolling once-over. She crossed her arms, feeling self-conscious.

He reached out and unfurled her arms. “Please, don’t hinder the view. I’ve never seen you with

a low-cut top. I may need a minute here to ogle. Christ.”

She laughed. “This old thing? That I just bought yesterday.”

“That shirt is a gift. I thought the guys’ eyes were going to roll out of their heads when they saw you.”

“I just thought it was the shock of seeing real boobs,” she teased.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped into a space. “Mmm, they are a rarity these days.” He lifted his hand and brushed the back of it oh-so-gently over the curve of her breast, bringing her nipple to an instant point. “I might have to dedicate part of tonight reacquainting myself with such a luxury.”

Shivers traced over her skin from where he’d touched her. “I won’t oppose this plan.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against his body. The hard heat of him made her tongue press to the roof of her mouth. She’d told him early on that she’d gone numb to sex. And she had been. But Lord, her libido was making up for lost time now. She couldn’t even pretend to be unaffected. “So, ready to get going?”

He brushed his mouth over hers—a tease. “Yes. After you pay the price of admission.”

She let her hands slide along his waist, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin material of his shirt. “And what might that be?”

He touched his forehead to hers. “You’re going to sing for me.”

“What? No, Pike,” she said, stepping out of his embrace.

He cocked his head toward the studio. “Come on, mama. No one’s here to listen but me. I want to hear you.”

She shook her head, her stomach tightening. “I don’t sing those songs. They’re too … personal.”

The songs she’d written after her years in Pop Luck were hers, her private thoughts and scars. Singing them was like standing naked in front of someone. And though she was willing to physically bare herself in front of Pike, she wasn’t ready to do it emotionally.

“Songs aren’t worth shit unless they’re personal. And if we’re going to go to The Ranch, I need to know you trust me.” He closed the space she’d put between them and took her face in his hands. “Play for me, Oakley. I’ll even back you up with drums so you don’t have to feel like I’m watching. I want to hear you.”

She closed her eyes, the gentle plea in his voice hitting her right in the chest. “You’re hard to say no to.”


Tags: Roni Loren Loving on the Edge Erotic