Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
I start to creep down the dark hallways, glancing into the dark rooms as I pass them. I keep walking, looking left and right through the windows in the doorways until I get to the very end of the hall. I frown.
Wait, she’s not here.
I swear to myself, and I start to head back to the stairway, when something catches the corner of my eye. I stop suddenly and take a step back, my eyes narrowing in the darkness as I peer into the dark practice room I’ve just passed.
I see movement, and my eyes narrow even more.
Wait, what is that?
Slowly, quietly, I twist the knob and silently swing the door in. I slip inside, the only light coming from the one window at the far side of the soundproofed room that holds a baby grand piano, a small drum kit, and an amplifier, along with a couple of chairs and music stands. My eyes sweep the room, and suddenly, I freeze.
Holy. Shit.
The truth is, I actually hear it first. And the second I do, my muscles tighten, my blood sears like fire in my veins, and my cock turns to fucking steel in my jeans. My eyes focus on the sound, and when I see her, her back to me, it’s everything I can do not to groan out loud.
Zara’s siting on the piano bench, her back to me and both hands between her spread legs. Her head lolls back, and I hear that moaning gasp again as her shoulders bunch and her arms clench.
…Oh, fuck yes.
I’ve just walked in on Zara Bateman touching herself.
I stand motionless, my breath held and my hand drifting to the thick bulge in my jeans. I grip my cock, biting back a growl as I stroke my length through the denim, watching as she moves faster and faster. She gasps, whimpering and moaning, her arms moving faster and her body tightening before suddenly, with a soft cry, she explodes.
I watch Zara make herself come, and it takes everything I have not to rush over and yank her into my arms right there and then.
She’s panting, gasping for air as she slumps to a stop, before suddenly, she stiffens. She whirls, and she just about falls off of the bench as she shrieks at the sight of me. She scrambles, lurching off the bench and falling back against the piano keys, which make this comical plunking sound that shatters the silence.
“Oh God…”
The words catch in her throat, and as our eyes lock, I see the color drain from her face.
“I—”
Her mouth opens, and then closes, then opens again before she snaps it shut. And then, before I can say a thing, suddenly, she’s running. She lunges right past me for the door, but I’m faster. She gasps as my hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back. She whimpers as I spin her, twirling her back and right into my arms. Before she or I can say a word, I’ve pushed her back against the wall, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other gripping her waist tight. She’s still wearing that little skirt and ripped tank top, and with her arms raised like that, my hand slides over the bare skin between shirt and skirt.
Her breath catches like the growl in my throat, and when the fire blazes between our eyes, we go still.
Her eyes flit over mine, and I watch the blush rush into her cheeks as she cringes. She’s mortified.
…I’m hard as rock.
“I—what you saw…” she swallows, biting her lip and looking like she’s about to cry. But as I move closer, my body pressing into hers, she gasps quietly, her chest heaving.
“Anders—”
“What I saw,” I growl lowly, my lips millimeters from hers and the last my sanity fraying like a broken rope.
“What I saw I could watch on repeat, forever,” I growl softly.
“Why…” she swallows. “Why did you come here?”
“You,” I groan back. And the final fiber of the rope snaps.
“I came here for you.”
My lips close the distance between us, and when they sear to hers, I know nothing is ever going to be the same.
4
Zara
My pulse jumps through the roof as his lips crush to mine. And when his big hands slide over my skin, and tighten on my wrists, it’s like gravity itself has stopped working.
Anders Teller is kissing me—hard, fiercely, and wildly. And it is without question, the single hottest moment of my life. Forget the fact that he literally just walked in on me masturbating. Forget the fact that it was him I was thinking about—shirtless and gorgeous, and not to mention Carson and Griff. Forget the absolutely mortifying reality that whether or not he heard it or not, I was moaning his freaking name when I came.
Forget all of that. Because right now, I’m fucking lost in kissing Anders Teller.