And it would be, if it wasn’t for lead singer, Levi Hunter.
Tortured… Brooding… Broken. He’s everything she should stay away from.
Unfortunately for Phoebe, she’s exactly the kind of girl Levi needs. The light to his dark. The calm to his storm.
He wants to be worthy of her; she knows he’ll never change.
Everyone knows the greatest love stories end one of two ways:
… with a happily-ever-after or in heartache and ruin.
“Because maybe it is. Maybe we just both have to take a chance.”
“I can’t do it again. I can’t watch someone I…” She stopped herself, letting out a heavy sigh. Part of me was relieved. I didn’t want to ever hear those words. “I’ll never be the most important thing in your life. I deserve that, Levi. I deserve to come first.”
Her honesty shook me to the core. Phoebe had scars. The deep kind. The kind I knew I couldn’t fix. The kind I knew I would only rip open if I pursued this thing with her.
But I couldn’t walk away.
I couldn’t do it.
So long as she was on tour with us, we would continue to go around in circles until one of us cracked. Or I fucked things up for good.
Touching my head to hers, I breathed her in. “I’m not a good guy, Bee, but I’d try to be good for you.”
A shiver ran through her as she swayed gently. She was drunk. Maybe more than I’d first thought.
“Come on,” I said, guiding her toward the bed. “You should get some sleep.”
Phoebe began stripping out of her clothes with haste, as if they were suffocating her. “Stupid shirt,” she groaned as she tried to yank it over her head.
I stood back, smothering the laughter rumbling in my chest. “Need some help?”
Her eyes snapped to mine, glittering in the dark. “I can manage.”
After a couple more failed attempts, I crouched down and nudged her hands away. “Here, let me.” My fingers brushed her bare skin, and she whimpered again.
My dick strained against my jeans, desperate to feel her again. But the next time I was inside her, I wanted Phoebe to know exactly who she was fucking.
I pulled back the cover. “In you go.”
“I can’t believe this happening,” she mumbled. “How embarrassing.” Phoebe buried her face in the pillow.
I made quick work of stripping down to my boxers and climbed in bed beside her. She tried to roll away, putting as much space between us as possible.
But fuck that.
I hooked my arm around Phoebe’s waist and pulled her back against my chest.
“Levi, we can’t snuggle…”
“Why the fuck not?” I tangled my legs with hers, fighting the urge to press my hard length right up against her ass.
“Because I’m your assistant and you’re…” She let out a little huff of frustration.
“It’s okay, honeybee,” the nickname rolled off my tongue as easy as breathing, “you can say it. I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.” I breathed against the shell of her ear.
Her sweet laughter filled the small room. “You’re definitely the biggest ego I’ve ever had.”
Home is a small town in the middle of England where she currently juggles being a full-time writer with being a mother/referee to two little people. In her spare time (and when she’s not camped out in front of the laptop) you’ll most likely find L A immersed in a book, escaping the chaos that is life.