Page 74 of Hymns of the Broken

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that. Maybe—I want both.”

I groan, head falling against her shoulder, fighting the urge to pull her in and devour her right here. Instead, I press a kiss to her neck, lips trailing up to her jaw, before I back away—slow, like I’m promising her something for later.

“You ever need someone to make you feel everything at once, you come find me, Hellcat. I’ll give you sweet and filthy all night long. Just ask.”

She watches me, pupils blown, lips parted, and I know this isn’t over. Not even close.

Chapter 13

SAWYER

Riot’s warmth lingers on my skin even after he leaves me there, heart pounding, hands shaking. It takes a full minute before I can breathe straight. I wipe a shaky hand over my brow and start moving toward the bus, mind still spinning from everything—the show, Jasper’s mouth, Riot’s hands, all the want and trouble tangled up together.

Can both guys really want me? I’m nothing special.

When I round the corner, Jasper’s waiting at the bottom steps, black hair falling in his eyes, that wild, hungry look back on his face. The second he sees me, his jaw clenches like he’s barely holding himself together. His eyes flick down, taking in the state of me, and something dark flickers there. Satisfaction, maybe? Or a wicked promise.

“You’re not sleeping on the bus tonight,” he says, every word a warning. “The shit I’m going to do to you? There’s not enough room in there. I got us a suite—top floor, across the street. I want to be completely alone with you. I want walls you can actually scream against.” He leans in, so close his breath makes goosebumps dance across my neck. “I want you laid out and begging. You ready for that?”

I swallow, barely able to speak. “God, yes.”

He grins, predatory and satisfied. Then he grabs my hand, tugging me with him through the lot. The hotel is already swarming with people—fans in eyeliner and fishnets, hotel staff with wide eyes, flashes from cell phone cameras lighting up the lobby.

For just a moment, I thought I saw a blur that looked an awful lot like Blake, but it couldn’t be… He definitely left licking his wounds. It was probably just a little PTSD and a trick from all the camera lights.

The second we step through the glass doors, the crowd shifts, all eyes snapping to Jasper. Girls surge forward—crying, giggling, hands outstretched for him, screaming his name. The noise is overwhelming—a tidal wave of sound and desperate energy that makes my skin crawl. There’s the sharp tang of perfume and sweat, the flash of camera phones, the press of bodies so close I can barely breathe.

I shrink back. I hate the spotlight, but Jasper’s grip tightens around my fingers. He shoves through the crowd without hesitation, shouldering away anyone who gets too close. The tension in his body is a shield, and I huddle behind it, grateful and anxious at the same time.

A hand catches my arm—a girl in a black crop top, mascara streaked down her cheek. “Is that her? Is she with him?” Her touch is cold and demanding; her voice is laced with equal parts envy and accusation. The words sting, making my heart pound faster, a fresh jolt of nerves lighting me up from the inside.

Before I can answer, Jasper’s arm goes around my waist, yanking me close, possessive as ever. “Yeah, she’s with me. So back the fuck off.” He glares, and the girl recoils. “Heard that? That means hands off.” My anxiety lessens when I feel his breath is hot on my ear. “You like when they all know, don’t you, baby?”

He pulls me through the chaos, ignoring the shouts, the jealous looks, the flashes. I keep my head down, just focused on his hand—hot and firm and absolutely unyielding. I feel exposed and alive, nerves fizzing, skin buzzing with adrenaline, shame, and something that tastes suspiciously like pride. The further we go, the more the world blurs—just me and him and the thundering sound of my heart. I swear my cheeks are burning. Part of me wants to disappear, but another part wants everyone to see. Wants them all to know.

He gets us to the elevator, slams the door button with his palm, never letting me go. The doors slide shut, muting the chaos outside. He hits the button for our floor. It’s just us and the pulse of the fluorescent lights overhead, humming. Jasper’s hand is still tangled in mine, knuckles white, and I can feel every ounce of need thrumming up my arm. I exhale shakily, suddenly hyperaware of the way his thumb strokes my wrist, the way his presence fills every inch of the small space.

Before I can even catch my breath, he’s in my space—caging me against the mirrored wall, his mouth so close I can taste him. His thigh wedges between mine, spreading me open just enough for the heat to pulse between us. I can smell him—leather, sweat, something wild and addictive. My whole body leans into his gravity.

He leans down, lips ghosting over my ear. “All those girls down there think they have a chance with me. But you’re the only one who gets to feel how hard I am.” He grinds his hips, letting me feel exactly how true that is, and a whimper escapes my lips before I can swallow it. A spark of embarrassment flares, but it’s drowned by the rush of want that shoots straight through me. I can feel him, thick and demanding, through the denim. “Already whining for me, baby? You’re so fucking easy for me, aren’t you?”

His hand finds my throat, thumb tracing the rapid beat of my pulse. “Look at you—shaking already. You know what I was thinking, walking through that lobby? I can’t wait to have you screaming my name so loud this entire floor knows who’s fucking you tonight. Maybe I’ll open the balcony door so everybody can hear you fucking screaming.”

I gasp, nails digging into his wrist. “You want them to hear?”

His lips brush my ear. “Damn right I do. Let them dream about what you’re about to get. You’re going to make a mess all over my cock, and you’ll thank me for it.”

His words heat my spine. I swallow, throat tight beneath his palm. My skin is on fire, blood roaring in my ears.

The elevator door dings on a random floor, but nobody gets on. Jasper doesn’t move—just grins. His free hand slides up under my shirt, fingertips skating the edge of my bra, teasing me through the lace. He brushes a nipple, making me arch into his palm. “Slow ass elevators… Maybe I should fuck you right here. Let the security cameras catch you crying for me.”

“Jasper—” It’s a plea and a warning.

“Maybe I’ll make you cum right here—press you up against this mirror, let you see exactly what you look like when you fall apart for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dirty girl? Everybody downstairs is hoping for an autograph, and you’re up here dripping for me.”

A shiver rolls through me at the filthy promise in his voice. I picture it—my reflection, flushed and needy, his hands all over me. I bite my lip, needy and bold.

He tugs my hair just enough to tilt my head back, his lips skimming my jaw. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want everyone to know you’re mine.”