“Of course, she is.” Rhys snorts. Turning his head, he locks eyes with me as if he can sense me. I freeze and instantly regret not finding my dress from last night.
Up and down, he peruses my body, stopping to stare at the bottom of his T-shirt that comes to my midthigh.
Nuke’s eyes follow Rhys’s, then widen as if I have grown horns. “Christ, Gia.” He shakes his head.
I toss my wet hair off my shoulder, trying to manage as much dignity as I can in heels, no panties, and an old black T-shirt.
“Hold on, Deborah.” An older guy with piercing blue eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a beard to match points at me. “Gia Fontaine?”
I blink at him. He’s a full-on silver fox. Unfortunately ,he doesn’t seem friendly, if his eyes and tone are any indication.
“That’s me.” Puffing out some air, I try to smile, but it’s tight, making my lips twitch.
“Okay, everyone out.” Rhys stands and takes my hand. Silver Fox’s eyes follow me.
“You’re Axel’s sister? The one who’s in the elevator footage?” He barks out the questions but doesn’t wait for my response. Just turns his back on us, continuing to yell on his phone at someone named Deborah.
Poor Deborah.
I’d heard rumors about their manager being an ass, but that was mostly from my brother, so you never know.
Rhys moves in front of me, his tall body a shield. “What the hell are you wearing?” he says, his eyes fixated on my boobs.
“I have no clothes. This”—I pull the bottom of his T-shirt—“is what you shoved in my face, remember?” I snap right back.
Ammo slaps his knees and stands as I peek over Rhys’ shoulder to stare at the Ace of Spades.
That’s what the tabloids like to label him, since each member of the Stuffed Muffins has a playing card tattoo. I know this because I’ve had a giant poster since I was thirteen on my ceiling with all of them looking like gods with their shirts off.
Ammo’s the Ace. A gorgeous bad boy rocker, with blue eyes, honey-wheat blond hair, and hot tattoos.
“Gia.” He sounds like he’s saying it in Italian. “What a wonderful surprise and a pleasure to meet you. I know your brother.” He smirks. And just like that, I don’t think he’s hot anymore, and his tattoos are stupid.
God, are all these guys assholes besides Nuke?
Ammo took my brother’s place when he quit the original band, the Dicks. Needless to say, Axel has made fun of the Stuffed Muffins for years, especially Ammo. I used to think it was because of their success, but I’m starting to think it might be their personalities. My eyes widen at Rhys to see if he’s gonna say anything. He has to know Ammo’s trying to piss me off by bringing up my brother.
“I’m in room 318 if you want to look at my guitars or something else I’m really good at using.”
“Ammo?” Rhys’s voice is deep and kind of scary. Of course, my heart pounds and my stomach flips.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fuck with me.” His eyes don’t leave my face, and a shiver goes up my spine. My core clenches.
I want him.
I don’t care if I’ve done everything wrong or if he thinks last night was a mistake. I’m caught in his sphere and don’t intend on leaving.
“Interesting.” Ammo’s voice almost makes me jump. How could I have forgotten that he was still here?
Rhys Granger. It’s like he dabbles in dark magic, the way his bourbon eyes with ridiculously long eyelashes make me speechless. He’s pure perfection. I grow warm again. Maybe I’m hormonally off or something.
I have to pull myself together. I can’t be this easy, obvious, whatever. I swallow and straighten my shoulders.
Geez, I’m breathless, slightly dizzy, and my nipples are hard and achy. I make myself break eye contact to look at Ammo’s amused face. I almost roll my eyes at him.
But at least I can breathe again. Ammo doesn’t make me feel like I’m on fire and in need of oxygen. He just stands there with a stupid smirk that I’m sure ninety-nine percent of women find sexy.
I don’t.
I clear my throat and cross my arms. The cool air and Rhys’s eyes alert me the T-shirt has risen. Whatever, I need to stay focused.
“Look—”
He grabs my chin. His fingers, rough from years of playing the guitar, slightly scratch my skin, and I hate that I have to swallow back a moan.
“Where are your clothes?” His voice is deep and gruff, almost like when he sings one of his ballads. My arms pebble with goose bumps.
“My suitcase is with Nuke.” I turn my head away as I run a hand up and down my arm. I have to put some distance between us. When he’s this close, it’s impossible to think straight.
“What the fuck, Gia?” he says.