She doesn’t date musicians. She never said anything about getting f*cked by one. August’s got a mouth on her. With that fiery red hair, freckled tits, and fierce scowl, she orders us around like she owns us. And the rest of the band seems fine with letting her run the show. But not me. She might be our manager, but there’s no way she can manage me. She thinks falling for a musician is a mistake. I’m going to be the best mistake she’ll ever make.
All six-foot-three inches of Jules Spencer was sprawled diagonally across his bed –
Utterly and completely, one hundred percent naked.
I closed my eyes. Then I opened them.
Jules was still passed out.
And still naked.
The same dark curls that crowned his head also nestled in a patch between his pecs. One tattooed arm was flung up, half over his face, hiding his eyes, but his parted lips were visible and there was a strange vulnerability to the way they pressed against his arm.
That was… the only thing that was vulnerable.
“Oh Jesus,” I hissed when I saw it again. For the second time today.
His cock rested against his thigh, long and curved. I glanced at it, then glanced away. I could feel my heart beating in every part of my body, thud thud thud right down to my toes. I told myself that the pleasant clenching in my core was just a reaction to seeing a cock. Any cock. It didn’t matter who it was attached to. I’d been single since Noah, things were just a little desperate down there.
Jules shifted and his arm fell away. He mumbled something, then a smile curved up his lips.
He mumbled something again and this time his hand moved down to grasp it.
I bolted past him, nearly tripping down the stairs. I ran from his cabin at a dead-sprint, bolting across the lawn to my cabin to fumble with my keycard…shit I had so many keycards…until I finally got my door open and dove into my room, letting the door slam behind me before I pressed my back to it and sank to the floor.
My lungs were burning. I had a stitch in my side. I don’t think I’d ever run so fast in my life as I’d run just now to get away from naked Jules Spencer.
What he’d mumbled?
It sounded a lot like… “Hello, love.”
Vivian Lux loves bad boys who are good men. She lives in Upstate New York with her adorable twin boys and model-hot husband. When she isn’t writing, she’s reading. If she isn’t reading, she’d like to be hiking but is more likely dealing with the mountain of laundry that piled up while she was writing and reading.