Page 11 of Epic

Ben blows out a put-upon sigh like he's been falsely accused of something. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, didn't mean to disrespect your kinky bullshit with the rock star sex god."

I can't hold in a snort at that utter ridiculousness. He's such a bloody idiot. "I am so telling Ryan you said that. He thinks you don't like him."

"I don't," Ben huffs. He gestures at the stage where Ryan is still performing like his life depends on it. "He's the only obstacle to our love story. He is my rival for your affections. Fuck him, I hope he falls off the stage and dies."

I roll my eyes. Hard. "Never, in a million, trillion,bazillionyears would I sleep with you," I tell him, adamant. "Dead boyfriend or no dead boyfriend."

Ben’s mouth spreads into a wicked grin. "That's what they all say. At first."

I squint at him dubiously. "Is itthough?"

Ben laughs and drapes an around my shoulders. He tugs me towards him and kisses my temple. He manages to time the kiss just when Ryan looks over at us. I'd hoped he was far enough away that he wouldn't notice, but I should have known better. I’m not sure if it's because he's so used to living his life at night, but Ryan has scary good eyesight. He clocks Ben kissing me and his pale eyes narrow. Ben wiggles his fingers at Ryan in a sarcastic wave.

In response, Ryan waits for the part of the song where he quite literally sings "fuck you" and uses the opportunity to say it directly to Ben. He also raises one hand and flips him the middle finger. The gathered crowd in front of the stage misinterpret the gesture and think it's part of the show. Almost every single one of them raises their hands to flip Ryan off in return as they continue shouting Skyline's lyrics.

I'm distracted from the insane showdown between Ben and Ryan when a group of people rock up to the bar to order drinks. I extract myself from Ben and throw myself at the group, taking their drink orders and ignoring Ben as he laughs somewhere at the other end of the bar. I resist the urge to turn around and tell him he's a wanker, but only because it will encourage him to misbehave.

Ben is so lucky Ryan knows he's joking when he openly flirts with me right in front of him. Ryan has a pretty good handle on his temper, but loving me makes him stupid. There have been a few busted knuckles and black eyes from fights that have escalated far more than they should have.

After one last song to finish off the set, Ryan says his thanks to the crowd and escapes the stage with the rest of the band, seeming eager despite the voracious calls for more from the audience. Ryan fights his way through to the bar, half-collapsing on top of it, clearly gasping for a drink. Without needing to be asked, I have a glass of water ready for him. He grins up at me gratefully, but snatches hold of my t-shirt rather than grabbing the glass from my hand. He jerks me forward, spilling the water, and takes my mouth in a searing kiss. The second our lips connect, Ryan lets out a rasping moan, filthy and too loud, inspiring an answering noise of neediness from me.

Ryan kisses me over and over again, parting his lips and coaxing me to do the same so he's able to dominate my mouth with his hot tongue. Each kiss is slick with spit, mostly mine, and messy as hell. It goes on for far too long, promising some serious beard burn, and I don't give a shit. When Ryan Knight kisses me, it feels like everything else fades away, like nothing else matters, like I’d let the entire world end in monstrous flames and smoking darkness rather than deny him this. I want to climb over the bar and straddle his lap on one of the stools. I want to feel his hard cock grind insistently against mine through the fabric of our clothes. I want to be consumed by the heat and smell of him. I want to run my fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and scratch at his short beard.

I'm addicted to it, to him, and I have no intention of ever getting clean, because unlike every other type of drug there is, this one loves me back.

It's Paige who saves us from committing acts of public indecency right on top of the bar, by stealing the glass of water from my hand and pouring the remaining contents over our heads, causing us to spring apart with matching shouts of her name. She crosses her arms and leans against the bar, giving us one of her top ten smug looks.

Ryan reaches over the bar to snag the lemonade nozzle and I have to grab his arm to stop him from squirting it at Paige. We wrestle for the nozzle while Paige looks on, unbothered. Ryan is a lot stronger than me, given his size and muscle mass, but he insists I have my evil kitten claws and enough street-hewn grit to make up for it.

Bo and Amira push free of the crowd to throw themselves at the bar beside Paige.

I use the distraction of their arrival to snatch the lemonade nozzle back from Ryan and put it out of reach.

"Hey!" I slap the bar, grinning at my friends. "You killed it up there! Want your usual?"

All three of them agree enthusiastically and I turn around to make their standard orders as well as retrieve another glass of water for Ryan.

Unlike the others, he won't accept anything with alcohol, because Ryan doesn't drink. It's been a strict rule for him ever since we met. I think at least one of his parents was an alcoholic, although he never talks about them. As far as Ryan is concerned, me and our friends are his family and that's the end of it. I haven't pushed him out of respect, because he offers me the same. I don't like to think about my mum, let alone waste breath recounting the nightmare that was my life with her.

Ryan accepts the glass of water from me this time and drains it all in one swallow. With his head thrown back, his throat works as he drinks. Water drips from his hair and beard and slides down over his neck. I have the strong urge to lick the water droplets off his burning hot skin and leave a bite mark in their place. Heat blazes to life inside my gut like flames rising from a car fire; blood turned to gasoline, bones to tinder, flesh becoming impossibly hot and sticky and combustible.

I purposefully avoid meeting Ryan's eyes. If he catches me watching him lustfully, we'll be right back to fucking around on top of the bar. Ryan and I haven't fucked in public much, but that's mostly due to our mutual possessiveness, not any sense of propriety. Our friends have seen more than they'd probably have cared to, but I could say the same about them. When you share a limited home space, you're bound to see and hear some intimate things.

Just like Ryan, our friends are all grown-up.

Paige is almost as tall as Ryan, slim-limbed but undeniably strong. She's built up some serious muscle via her daily runs and lifting the weights she often leaves strewn around our shared home like biscuit crumbs. One of us is always tripping over them and cursing her out. Her blond hair has been shorn off on one side, the other choppily cut. She has a septum piercing and several other piercings in her ears.

Amira and Bo are still on the shorter side, although both are taller than I am, much to my unending annoyance. Amira has dyed her long hair a bright pink and got her nose and tongue pierced. Bo has a bar piercing through one eyebrow and they’ve dyed the stubble on their head bleach blond, which stands out starkly against their dark brown skin.

All of them are covered in tattoos, including Ryan. I went with him to get almost all of them, sitting beside him and holding his hand despite Ryan's complete lack of nerves. Not being bothered about body art for myself, I only have one. I was nervous about getting it. Not because of the pain. I'd suffered enough of that to know I could handle the needle. I was more afraid of how Ryan would react, thinking he might believe it too cliché or stupid or soppy.

My worries were unfounded, however, and when Ryan saw the thick black letters of his full name emblazoned across my heart, he went wild and fucked me so hard I saw stars. Knowing me as he did by then, he understood it was my way of telling him I love him, and that I want us to be together always. He pressed kiss after kiss along the tattoo, mapped out the letters with his lips, and told me again and again that he loved me more than life.

Amira downs her glass of gin and looks up at me. She jerks her head at the DJ station set up next to the stage.

"You ready to take over?" I ask. "Sure you don't want more of a break first?"

Amira shakes her head and brings her hands up to sign,No, I'm good. I'd rather start when I'm still flying high from playing than have to get back up from an adrenaline crash.