Page 20 of Wild Infatuation (Rebel Rockstars #3)

Chapter Nineteen

Shawn

THE FIRST THING I notice is the towel. Then I all but tackle Terrance against the wall of his apartment, grabbing his face to pull him to my lips.

His startlement melts away as I kiss him, my hands sliding down to feel the bare expanse of his chest. He’s damp and warm from a shower, and that gives me ideas that tremble down my fingers.

I run a digit along the edge of the towel, eager to tear it off, but he gets his hands on my shoulders and stops me.

“Hey,” he says, a giddy smile on his lips.

I could lose myself in those soft green eyes. After this past week of press and functions and paparazzi, I could stare into them and never want for anything again.

Terrance thumbs along my lip. “You okay? You look…”

Frantic? Insane? That’s how I feel, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.

I was lucky to escape my apartment at all with that vulture circling outside.

Emmett’s gambit certainly worked. The press and fans are in a frenzy over my “date” for the fashion show.

They can’t stop speculating, and at least one of them has been camped outside my apartment all week in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Olivia sneaking in or out.

Meanwhile, the whole time, all I’ve really wanted is this.

I should have texted. I should have let him know. It’s not like I was busy, trapped as I was in my apartment. But I wallowed in my frustration instead of reaching out, and now that frustration is bursting free all at once.

I’m not prepared to talk about it, not tonight. I need to let it out physically.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

Terrance’s gaze darkens as his pupils blow out.

He forgets any questions he may have had and takes my hand, leading me through the living room and to the only other door in the whole apartment.

It wasn’t so long ago I lived in a place like this.

I didn’t mind it, but now it’s kind of hard to fathom.

I glance at the cozy, blanket-strewn couch and the coffee table cluttered with art supplies … and a drawing of me.

Terrance stutters as I come up short. “Something wrong?”

“Is that … me?” I say.

“Oh shit.” Terrance goes pale and tries to fly past me, but I take him by the shoulders and halt him. I don’t want any more interruptions tonight.

“It’s nice,” I say. “I was just surprised.”

“I swear I don’t sit around drawing you all day.”

“I didn’t know you could draw at all.”

“I doodle…”

That drawing of my face is way better than a doodle, but I don’t say that, simply kiss him to set him back on the correct path. He’s a bit less frantic when we part, and he cups my hands and walks backward into his bedroom, leading me with him.

If I thought the drawing was a lot, the bedroom is way worse. There are posters of Baptism Emperor everywhere. The signed T-shirt hangs framed on the wall. I cannot look anywhere without seeing myself or my closest friends.

“I … I tried to take them down,” Terrance says, “but then you knocked and I hadn’t even dressed and…”

The reminder that he’s in nothing but a towel hardens my focus … among other things.

“Whatever,” I say. “I don’t care about any of that.”

I push him onto his bed hard enough that the towel falls open, exposing his naked body. I peel off my shirt and stalk toward him, climbing over him and kissing him until he settles down into the mattress. When we separate, he reaches up stroke my cheek.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hushing.

I missed him too, I realize. I missed his quiet assurances. I missed the way he looks at me. I missed touching him. I missed the comfort of his presence.

Instead of saying any of that, I kiss him down into the sheets, letting my mouth wander to his jaw and down his neck.

His inhale shivers against my lips as I work my way down him, teeth skimming his soft skin when I reach the ridge of his collar.

His gasp does everything that Olivia was supposed to do to me.

I light up, the urgency of every kiss ramping up as Terrance squirms under me.

As great as Olivia is, she’ll never do this to me.

She’ll never have me burning up like this.

When I find the hair trickling down his belly, I bury my nose it in, letting it guide me to his hard cock.

Terrance whimpers when I lick along his shaft, but I don’t stop there.

I dive deeper, tongue wandering and playing, soaking in every inch of his body.

I love the warm musk wafting off him. I love the hard ridge of his cock.

I love the softness of his sac and the way he flinches with sensitivity when I suck on it.

I pause, but only so I can roll him onto his side.

I dare not pause as a frenzy of lust clamors inside my head, diving right in by gripping his cheek and holding him open to me.

He lets out a startled little “oh” when I duck down to lick him, tongue swirling over his tight hole.

He shivers, groaning and squirming, so I let myself explore.

He’s absolutely delicious.

I work my way past the perfume of his soap to the truth of him.

Terrance writhes, a clipped, hushed expletive exploding past his lips as my tongue prods.

He gropes for me, reaching back and holding on tight when he finds my hair.

Normally, he’d be the one fixing the untamed mess on my head, but this time he’s tugging it out of place, sending tingles down my spine as he pulls with increasing desperation.

His whining sweetens the hot air in his bedroom, interrupted by gasping inhales and rasping curses.

He releases my hair, presumably to reach for himself, but I’m not through with him so quickly or easily.

I grip him tight and stick my tongue deeper, prodding inside him as he yelps and jerks.

I close my lips, sucking on him, not letting him out of my grasp no matter how much he wriggles around.

I’m not letting him go, not tonight, not after that shit in New York.

I lose myself in him, closing my eyes and delving into him with reckless fervor.

I don’t want to come back out. I don’t want to let this end.

I want to stay here where things are sure and steady and certain.

Terrance can only hold on so long, however.

His cries get more frantic, and as sweet as the sound is, it almost makes me pull away.

I don’t dare, licking deep even though it ushers on the end.

I indulge for as long as I can, as long as he can bear it, then he jerks hard, nearly ripping himself out of my hold as he groans pitifully.

His ass tenses, but I keep licking regardless, determined not to let go until I absolutely have to.

Only when he whimpers with over-stimulation do I finally, reluctantly, pull myself away.

I pant as I come up, but before reality can brush its icy fingers across my lips, Terrance surprises me by flinging himself up and throwing me onto my back.

He deliberately favors one hand, the other clenched in a fist, but he doesn’t need anything but his mouth when he rolls me under him and finds my cock straining in my pants.

I scramble to undo my pants and shove them down for him, but I’m shocked I didn’t do this sooner.

I didn’t realize quite how hard I got from licking him, but it certainly works to my advantage when Terrance dives down me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and push onto my shoulder blades from Terrance’s first daring plunge.

He bobs hard and fast, and I quickly learn that licking him didn’t simply make me hard — it almost undid me.

His warm mouth pushes me toward the edge with terrifying speed.

I grit my teeth and hold back, but Terrance jams himself down me, reflecting my own recklessness.

I know why I feel this way, but why does he?

A flicker of worry streaks through my overheated brain as I wonder if he’s throwing himself at me because of those damn pictures from the fashion show and afterparty.

If that’s what this is, if we’re barreling toward each other like crashing cars because of that press flurry, then this night just got a lot more complicated than a quick hookup.

Terrance’s greedy mouth calls me back into my body and out of my head.

He takes me into his throat, swallowing around me, and a startled groan leaps out of me.

I manage one gritted “close” that Terrance completely ignores, then I’m shooting into his mouth with mind-melting force.

Terrance doesn’t even stutter, staying put the whole way through it and pulling off only when I sink into the mattress in a wrung-out heap.

I listen to Terrance shuffling around, eyes still closed while I float in his bed.

I focus on the warmth suffusing my body, the tingle running from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, the buzz lingering on my lips.

Eventually, Terrance returns, snuggling in at my side.

I let him, wrapping my arm around his back and letting my fingers drift against his skin.

He rests his head on my shoulder, one arm draped across my torso.

“How was New York?” he says.

Despite the softness of his tone, I tense. This must be about the pictures. Sure, our other encounters were also pretty frantic, but there was a desperation driving us this time that I haven’t felt before.

I creak my eyes open, but all I can see is the top of his soft layers of brown hair.

“Kind of sucked,” I say.

He chuckles against me. “It looked fun. The red carpet, the fancy parties. It couldn’t have been all bad.”

“It wasn’t,” I admit. Then, gathering myself, I add, “Olivia was cool.”

He braces as though against a blow. “Is that the girl you were with?”

“Yeah, she’s Levi’s sister. Known her a long time. She’s … a friend.”

The word hangs between us. I’m trying to help, to tell him that what’s in those pictures doesn’t matter, but I’m scared to say it outright.

What if he tells someone? What if he exposes the lie?

I could ruin things for my entire band by being the exact sort of idiot I’ve been for my whole life — an idiot who trusts a good-looking guy too easily and too deeply.

So I leave him with that, leave him to make of it what he will.

It’s not like we’re anything, so I don’t owe him the whole explanation about Emmett and his plot to boost our notoriety ahead of the music video’s release.

I’ve given enough to a guy who’s an obsessed fan at the end of the day.

For now, it would be too dangerous to tell him more.

But there is one other tidbit I might offer.

“Can I crash here?” I say. “That stupid paparazzo is probably still outside my place. It’d be easier if I slept here.”

I swear I can feel him smiling against my shoulder.

“Yeah, you can stay. Want something to sleep in?”

I consider that, but the temptation of bare skin is too potent to ignore. “I’m okay like this. If you are.”

This time I know that warmth heating my shoulder is his smile. “I am,” he says, and we bundle ourselves up under the covers.