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Before I can hop off the sink, he lifts me easily and carries me to the bed, pulls the covers back and climbs onto the bed still cradling me to his front, my arms and legs wrapped around him.

  He lays me down and latches on to my nipple again, his hands roaming over my torso, my arms… everywhere.

  Suddenly he flips me over.

  “Good idea,” I mutter and try to lift my ass in the air, but he laughs and pushes me back down.

  “Not yet, sugar, I’m enjoying you.”

  “Just do it. I’m ready.” I squirm under him, ready to feel him inside me, but he covers me with that lean body of his, kisses my shoulder, and nibbles my ear.

  “Relax.”

  “Just fuck me, Leo.”

  He lifts off of me and turns me onto my back again, his face serious. “No. I’m not going to just fuck you.”

  “Fine.” I try to roll away, but he holds onto me.

  “I’m going to enjoy you, damn it.” He kisses me hard, demanding, rough, pulls my hair free of its band and plunges his fingers into it as he makes love to my mouth. I can’t help but run my hands over his arms, his shoulders, reveling in the smooth skin, despite the riot of color of ink that covers them.

  “Enjoy this, Sam,” he whispers and kisses me softly, completely different from his kiss a moment ago, sending me spiraling into a tailspin.

  Just when I think I’ve figured him out, he changes it up on me.

  I can’t have sex with him in this position.

  He kisses down to my breasts, nibbling and sucking and then moves down to my navel.

  “I fucking love this,” he mutters and kisses it chastely.

  “I’m glad.” I smile down at him. He grins back, kisses it again and then moves south.

  “Pink,” he whispers.

  “What?”

  “Your pussy is pink. I’ve wondered if your pussy is as pink as your lips since the day I met you.”

  “What?” I lift up onto my elbows and stare down at him, open-mouthed.

  “It is,” he assures me and nuzzles it with his nose, and then spreads my thighs wider, opening me up to him, and licks me from my folds to my clit, in one long lick.

  “Oh God,” I groan and lay back, flinging an arm over my face. Oral sex always makes me nervous.

  It’s too intimate.

  But I don’t want to tell him to stop. He’s too damn good at it.

  He pulls my labia into his mouth and sucks with little pulses, pushes his hands under my ass to tilt my pelvis up for him, and plunges that delicious tongue deep inside me.

  I cry out and grip the cool sheets in my fists, writhing against his face. He gentles his strokes, and then closes his mouth and rubs that metal against my lips and up over my clit, catching it in the loop, and pulls up, then sucks my nub into his mouth and sucks.

  Hard.

  I plant my heels on his back and come apart, pushing my pelvis up, and begging him to never stop.

  Holy fucking hell that piercing is going to kill me.

  He releases my clit and kisses it gently, and as I come down from my high, he gently kisses and massages my pussy with his fingers, crooning to me, but I can’t understand the words.

  Finally, he climbs back up my body, leaving wet kisses in his wake, and settles himself between my legs. He pushes my hair off my face and kisses me softly.

  I can taste myself, and it turns me on all over again.

  “I taste good on your lips,” I whisper. His eyes flare in lust.

  “You are amazing, sunshine.”

  “Why do you call me that?” I ask and slowly thrum my fingers up and down his back. He looks like he’s thinking about it, a small frown forming between his eyebrows, but he smiles down at me.

  “Because of your pretty blonde hair.”

  “Huh.” I rotate my hips, and feel his erection against my core. “You need to wrap that bad boy up, my friend. There are condoms in the bedside table.” And I need you off of me.

  “I thought you didn’t invite men here.” He pushes off of me and opens the drawer, pulls out the condom and rolls it on.

  “I rarely invite men here, and it’s good to be prepared.” Before he can climb back on top of me, I straddle his lap; knees planted at his hips and wrap my arms around his neck. His hands immediately roam all over my back and I moan softly.

  It feels so good to be touched!

  He grips my hips and lifts me gently until the head of his beautiful cock is poised to sink inside me.

  “Are you ready?” He asks against my lips.

  I kiss him and push down slowly, groaning with him as he impales me all the way to my cervix.

  “Fucking A you feel good, sunshine.”

  “Mmm.” I agree and begin to move, clenching around him, riding him.

  “Fuck,” he whispers again and looks down to watch. “That’s sexy.”

  He leans back on his elbows, bends his knees, and begins to buck, pushing in and out of me hard.

  It’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt.

  “God, Leo,” I cry and lose myself in him; riding him so hard my legs start to shake. He pushes one hand between us and worries my clit with his thumb, and I cry out.

  “That’s it, baby, come for me.” He pushes harder with his hips, presses harder with his thumb, and I come undone at the seams, crying out his name.

  He sits up again and grips my hips firmly, impaling himself all the way, and follows me into his own orgasm, growling as he spills himself inside me.

  “Damn, baby,” he whispers and pushes my hair behind my ears. “You are incredible.” He kisses my breasts, my collarbones, and then my chin.

  “You’re no amateur yourself,” I murmur and chuckle when he bites my neck playfully.

  “Let me stay,” he whispers, his eyes happy and on mine. I can’t resist him.

  I nod happily and twine my arms around his neck. “Stay.”

  Chapter Four

  I wake to my bedroom falling dark with shadows and a cold bed. We fell asleep after a particularly vigorous round of crazy sex, but I didn’t plan to sleep so long. I sit up and glance around the room, spying Leo’s shirt still on the bathroom floor and suddenly realize I smell bacon.

  Bacon in the evening?

  I climb out of the bed, throw on a black silk robe and follow my nose. My feet come to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the kitchen, and I’m mesmerized.

  Leo Nash, rocker superstar, is in my kitchen cooking.

  Half naked.

  He pulled jeans on -where did he get those?- but they’re loose as though he didn’t button them, and he’s clearly not wearing his underwear. He has the most amazing dimples above his ass.

  His shoulders are wide, but lean, like the rest of him. He’s muscular, although not like the Montgomerys. He has a runner’s body.

  His hair is a mess from my fingers, and I want to bury them back in there and hold on to him.

  He glances back at me with a half-smile and my stomach clenches.

  Shit, I’m in so much trouble.

  “Hey, sleepy-head.”

  “Hey.” I walk to him, wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his back, between his shoulder blades. He’s so tall next to me. Or I’m short. “You cook too?”

  “A bit. You had breakfast stuff, so I dug in. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Mmm, I’m starving.”

  Don’t get used to this, Sam.

  “Meow.”

  “Hey, little one,” I grin and scoop my fluffy white cat into my arms, nuzzling his face.

  “You have a cat.” He glances at me, one eyebrow raised, as he scrambles the eggs.

  “I do. Leo, meet Levine.”

  “Hello there.” He pauses and smirks. “Levine as in Avril or Adam?”

  “He’s a boy, Leo.”

  “How did you come up with that name?” He asks with a laugh, scooping the eggs onto our plates.

  “I guess I just have a thing for tattooed rock stars.” I grin and shrug.

  “What was wrong with Nas
h?” He asks with a mock scowl.

  “Oh, nothing. They’re okay, I guess.”

  “I will hurt you later,” he laughs and then shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask and set the cat on his feet.

  “Never pegged you for a cat owner.”

  “It’s one cat. I’m not the crazy cat lady or anything.” I hop up onto the counter next to the stove and watch his tattooed hands as he deftly makes our meal and the cat threads his way through Leo’s legs, purring.

  “Well, the jury’s still out about the crazy part,” he winks at me and I slap his arm.

  “Don’t be a douche bag. I was thinking about having sex with you again.”

  Leo laughs and plates our food, handing me mine. “Wanna sit at the table?” I ask.

  “I’m fine.” He leans against the island opposite me, crosses his jean-clad legs and digs into his food. He’s watching me as I eat, but we don’t say anything; just watch the other with a smug smile on our lips.

  “What are you thinking?” he finally asks.

  “How’d you get that scar?” I ask and point to his abdomen with my fork. He has stars tattooed on his hips, right over those incredibly sexy V lines, and he has a surgical scar just above the one on the right.

  “Appendectomy,” he shrugs. “Not a very exciting story.”

  “I bet it hurt.”

  “It almost killed me.”

  “What?” My eyes find his and I stop eating. “What do you mean?”

  “I was a teenager, in a foster home. I told the lady I lived with my stomach hurt, but she told me to just go lie down.” He shrugs again and takes a big bite of bacon. “When I started throwing up and ran a temp of about one-oh-four, she took me to the ER. I had to have emergency surgery.”

  He’s concentrating on his plate, not looking me in the eye, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, but I can see that it is a big deal.

  Of course it is.

  I set my mostly-consumed plate into the sink and hop off the counter top, take his plate from him and set it on the island behind him and wrap my arms around his middle, rest my cheek on his chest, and hold him.

  Aside from Olivia, I’ve never felt the need to cuddle anyone in my life.

  He wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me close, plants his lips on the top of my head, and takes a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper and kiss his chest. I lean back just a bit so I can see his tats up close while I’m not in the throws of passion.

  Who has time to examine tats when he’s inside me?

  Not I.

  There’s script that says Never Kill What Burns Inside over a heart held in two hands with flames. It’s totally rockstar, but I have a feeling it means more than that. Maybe I’ll ask him about it later.

  My eyes travel down his torso, over his sculpted washboard abs, to his stars, and damn, I just want to lick them.

  I look up into his face to find him patiently watching me with those stormy gray eyes. His teeth are clenched, a muscle twitches in his jaw, but otherwise his body is completely calm and quiet, watching me explore him. In this moment, I forget about Leo Nash the rock god, and he’s just a man, standing in my kitchen with me.

  I pull my hands around his waist, brushing along the top of his jeans, and follow the outline of the stars with my thumbs.

  He sucks a breath in through his teeth and his stomach seizes, and I grin to myself and sink down to my knees, so his hips, and the erection straining against the zipper of these sexy, ripped jeans, are eye level with me.

  “Sam,” he begins but the words catch in his throat when I lean in and lick the star on the right side, following the path my thumbs took moments ago, and then lave the scar from his surgery. “Sonofabitch,” he whispers.

  I plant tiny kisses over the blue and red ink, over the white scar of the incision, like I’m kissing it better. I kiss my way along his lower belly, over his pubis, and switch sides, paying equal attention to the other star, enjoying the muscular line of his hip.

  Any woman who says that V in a man’s hips isn’t sexy is a fucking liar.

  Leo gently tucks my hair behind my ears as I run my hands up the outside of his thighs and to the zipper of his jeans and lower it slowly, allowing the denim to fall off his hips to his ankles and his impressive cock to spring free.

  He pushes my robe apart and I let it fall off my shoulders and to the floor.

  I grip his cock in my fist and pump up and down loving how it continues to harden in my hand, and lean in to lick a drop of dew off the end.

  “Samantha,” he whispers and buries his hands in my hair, gripping the strands in his strong hands as though he needs an anchor. I look up as I sink down over him, pushing him all the way to the back of my throat and then I grip him tightly with my lips and pull all the way up.

  His eyes are on fire, watching me intently, panting as if we’d just run three miles. I smile up at him and repeat the motion, up and down on him, teasing him with my tongue and the tips of my teeth, and then sucking vigorously.

  “Fucking A, Samantha,” He pulls me to my feet and into his arms, stomping out of the kitchen.

  “Where are we going?” I ask with a chuckle as I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle his neck.

  “Bedroom. I’m going to have to stock every room of your apartment with condoms,” he mutters and sets me down on the bed, pulls a foil packet out of the drawer and makes quick work of suiting up as he crawls onto the bed beside me.

  I straddle him and run my hands up his arms to link our fingers and pin them to the bed beside his head, raise my hips and impale myself on his hard shaft.

  “Fuck, you’re wet.”

  “You sort of turn me on,” I respond with a sassy grin.

  “I’m so happy to hear that, sunshine,” he replies sarcastically and chuckles and then groans as I grip my intimate muscles around him and pull up, then push back down and begin to ride him, circling my hips, grinding my clit against his pubis, and I feel the pressure begin to build, my stomach tightens, and I break out into a sweat.

  “Damn you feel good,” I whisper and move faster, chasing the orgasm that’s almost in my reach.

  “Let go of my hands, Sam.”

  I comply and he palms my breast with one hand and his talented thumb finds my clit and sends me over the edge in an overwhelming climax. Before I can resurface, he lifts me off him and flips me onto my stomach, pulls my ass in the air and shoves himself into me roughly.

  “Oh God, yes!” I cry and push my palm against the headboard as I rock back onto him. He grips my hips tightly and fucks me hard, growling and panting, in the most deliciously primal way I’ve ever experienced.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants as he pulls me back onto him and empties himself inside of me.

  I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.

  Jesus, what is he doing to me?

  He collapses on top of me, pushing me into the mattress, and I don’t even care if I can breathe. I think he may have just killed me anyway.

  And what a way to go.

  He slowly pulls out of me and rolls to the side and off the bed to discard the condom, then crawls onto the bed and covers us both with the blankets, tucking me against his side, with my head on his chest.

  “Meow.” Levine jumps onto the bed, eyeing Leo for a second and then nudges Leo’s hand with his head.

  “He likes you,” I whisper and smile as Leo pets his head.

  “Are you okay?” He asks.

  “I’m fantastic, thanks. You?”

  Leo laughs and shoos the cat aside, who then flips his tail at him and curls into a ball at the end of the bed and begins to take a bath.

  “Fantastic is a good description.” He kisses my forehead lightly.

  “Are you leaving now?” I ask, ready to put some distance between us, yet hoping he says he wants to stay.

  He stills for a moment, and then tips my chin back so I’m looking him in the eye. “Do you want me to
leave?”

  “You can stay.” I shrug. “I might have a use for you in the morning.”

  He lowers his face to mine and nibbles my lips softly, then rubs his nose against mine. “I want to stay.”

  “Okay.” He’s running his fingers up and down my back, making me sleepy.

  “You don’t have any tattoos,” he murmurs sleepily.

  “Nope,” I confirm.

  “No desire to?” He asks.

  “Nope.”

  “Gee, you’re so chatty.” He chuckles. “Why not?”

  “I don’t know, I guess I just never found anything that I wanted on me forever.” I shrug and trace one of his stars again with my fingertip. “I like yours. I’ve seen them in photos, of course, but they’re better in person.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you gonna get more?” I ask.

  “Maybe.” He shrugs. “Probably.”

  “They photograph well.”

  “That’s what I’m told.” He chuckles and kisses my forehead again.

  “Are you starting to miss it?” I ask, and he doesn’t even pretend that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

  “Sometimes, but I’m enjoying the break. I’m writing music, and I talk to most of the band just about every day.”

  “You’re close to them.” It’s not a question.

  “Yeah, they’re my brothers.” He turns on his side so we’re facing each other, wraps his arm around my low back and holds me close. “We spend a lot of time together.”

  “Are any of them married?” I ask, although I already know the answer. Nash is my favorite band. I’ve seen interviews.

  “Yeah, a couple are. It’s not easy for them to be away from their families for long stretches. We’re all enjoying the break.”

  “Can’t they take their families on tour with them?”

  “They do part of the time.”

  I nod and trace his jaw with my finger. “How have you managed to stay single?” I ask. “You’re the most eligible rockstar bachelor in the US right now.”

  He frowns and then laughs and me. “Whatever.”

  “You are.” I push his shoulder and smile at him. “Spill it.”

  “I don’t ever want to get married,” he replies, his eyes sobering. This surprises me.

  “Never?”

  He shakes his head, watching me closely.