BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (97 page)

Harry spoke again, his keen eyes on me. “I asked if you’d ever worked on a set?”

“No.” I shook my head, fighting the need to tap. Or squirm. Or something.

“You have an agent?”

“No.”

“She used to live in New York,” Mila said to him. “She’s new here.”

His eyes speared me. “Huh. New York? You look like someone I know—”

“Why would she need an agent? She plays classical music in a restaurant,” Blair interrupted in a lofty tone. “And not the best one in town either. Really, Harry, what were you thinking in coming here? This place is truly awful.”

“Her music isn’t classical by any stretch of the imagination,” Sebastian said softly, his eyes boring into mine.

Blair stared at Sebastian, her face cold. “There’s a weird undercurrent between you two that needs to stop before anyone else notices.” She pointed out the window at a group of paparazzi who were standing on the sidewalk waiting for celebrities to walk by. “They don’t miss much of anything these days.”

I blinked, unsure how to take her comments.”

Wait, I do know you!” Blair exclaimed, turning back to me. I flinched. “You’re that girl who ran out of the coffee shop after making a huge mess. No wonder you didn’t want to admit you worked there. You’re also the girl Sebastian was with at the ice cream shop.” She sent Sebastian a scowl. “Did you plan this? Are you trying to ruin our careers?”

What?
That was insane. I didn’t want to ruin them.

Harry, who’d been sitting quietly, surfing on his phone, snapped his head up, a look of triumph on his face. His voice boomed across the table. “You’re Violet St. Lyons, that heiress who was in the plane crash. I
knew
you looked familiar.” He proudly showed them his phone, scrolling through pictures of me being hauled up in a rescue helicopter and one of me coming out of the Dublin hospital.

No!

“Who?” Sebastian said, a look of confusion on his face as he studied the phone. I wasn’t surprised. It was New Yorkers who knew my face by heart.

Harry added, “You know … the plane that was bombed on its way to Dublin? There were articles written about her for weeks. It was her eighteenth birthday, and they found her floating on—”

“Stop,” I gasped out, my heart in my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

All eyes swiveled to me, and memories hit me.

The explosion.

Bodies being sucked out the hole.

My mother.

My father.

Water.

Darkness.

The panic attack took over, cold chills racing down my spine even as fire blazed over me. Hot. Cold. I clutched the table, lungs burning, black spots dancing in my eyes. My stomach rolled, and it felt like cotton was in my mouth. I swallowed convulsively, keeping down bile.

Please,
not here, not in front of Sebastian and his friends—and Blair.

“V?” Sebastian said as he jumped up from his seat and scooted in next to me. He clutched my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Breathe!
It’s not that hard!

I practiced my exercises. Inhale … exhale.

“She’s losing it, mate,” Spider said, a worried tone in his voice.

“Talk to me,” Sebastian said, trying to lift my chin.

“Need … to catch … breath.” I closed my eyes.

Someone
pff
ed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s obviously faking for attention or she’s trashed.”

“Shut the fuck up, Blair,” Sebastian snarled. “She’s freaking out because Harry brought up that plane crash.”

“Do we need to call an ambulance?” Mila asked.

“I don’t know. Shit. Maybe,” Sebastian replied.

I held my hand up. “Done this … before. Wait.” My chest rose rapidly.

“I’m not waiting. This is crazy, V,” Sebastian barked out as his arms swept underneath me. He picked me up from my seat. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Everyone in the entire restaurant was probably staring by now. I molded myself to him and hid my face in the hollow of his neck. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he said, carrying me across the floor.

He was sorry?
I was mortified.

I opened my eyes when Phil came up and guided Sebastian back to his office. He left us there as Sebastian carried me inside and positioned me on the couch.

I pressed my face against the cool leather. God. I wanted to crawl inside it and disappear.

“Here, this should help,” he said, and placed a bottle of water in my hands. He must have taken it from Phil’s desk.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a few moments. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

“You have
nothing
to apologize for. Harry—”

“Don’t,” I said. “What you saw out there, I’ve done numerous times. It’s part of the reason I don’t play in public.” I rubbed my face.

“I get that.” He sat next to me and hugged me tight as if he did it everyday. I didn’t protest. He idly doodled on my arm. “What’s the other reason you don’t play anymore?”

I sighed. “After my parents—it’s hard to be the person I used to be.”

He gave me a squeeze. “Want to know what happened to me once on stage?”

I gave him a small smile. “I can’t see you ever doing anything embarrassing.”

He shrugged. “Ha, well, one night we were playing a show in New Orleans at the House of Blues—the biggest one we’d had at that point. I was only twenty and a nervous wreck, so I sucked down some vodka before the show. Then, right in the middle of a song, my drunk ass tripped over some wires on stage and I fell flat on my face. The whole place died laughing.” He chuckled. “Busted my lip, chipped a tooth,
and
broke my nose.” He pointed to his front tooth where I saw a minuscule line. “Had to get a veneer put on.”

I sighed at the image of him on stage. Chipped tooth or not, he’d be beautiful. “My freak-out didn’t freak you out?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Made me want to jump across that table and smack Harry for getting you upset.” He searched my eyes. “And, I’m sorry to hear what happened to you. I lost my parents too, so I understand how grief changes a person. I was just a kid when it happened, but the pain that comes with loss doesn’t have an expiration date.”

His words moved me, but I didn’t want to go there. It hurt too much.

I flicked my eyes back up at his face, taking in the softened jawline, the careful way he touched my hand. I snuggled into his side. “You smell amazing,” I murmured.

“Yeah, well, you’re trying to change the subject, but I’ll go with it—because you may not know this, but I love to talk about myself.”

“You’re a cocky bastard,” I said on a laugh.

He inclined his head. “Thank you.”

I grinned. “And, I see what you’re doing … making me laugh when I really just want to hide and never have to face those people again. I’m probably fired, too.” I looked down at our now intertwined hands.

“Meh, this place sucks anyway. Plus, I didn’t like how your boss looked at you. I say you let me find you a real gig somewhere.”

“Really?”

He nodded and we were quiet for a moment until, “So, how
do
I smell?” he asked.

The words tumbled out. “Like the brine from the ocean just as the sun is coming up. Like the softest, most expensive man’s shirt I’ve ever touched. Like the most delicious piece of chocolate I’ve ever had on my tongue—” I stopped short and buried my face in his shoulder. “Gah, I went too far, didn’t I?”

He tipped my chin up. “You sound like you’ve put some thought into it.”

“Maybe.”

“So you think about me?” he asked.

I nodded. “Mostly at night when I play … and then later when I go to bed. I see your face, and it helps me sleep.”

He pushed a stray hair out of my face, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. “You’re different, V, not like anyone else I’ve ever met.” His voice was husky.

“Different like I might need to check myself into a sanitarium? Different like I might need to use stronger deodorant?”

His gaze captured mine. “Different like I’ve never met anyone with eyes the color of lavender. Different like hearing you play,
then
seeing you nude was the highlight of my year.” He stroked my lips with his fingers. “Different like your mouth is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What about Blair? She isn’t your girlfriend?”

He paused, a struggle on his face until he seemed to come to a decision. He exhaled heavily. “It’s just pretend for the media so I can get more clout in Hollywood, specifically a Hing move.”

“Oh.” That was a surprise. “So you
don’t
want her?”

“You’re the one I want, V. I want to take you to the fucking stars with my mouth. I want to make you come so hard you can’t even think of me without wanting my hands on you …”

I moaned. He’d escalated fast.

“Exactly,” he whispered as his lips took mine. His hands held my face, his fingers splayed out against my cheeks as he explored my mouth with a gentleness that broke me.

But I wanted more. Heat. Sharpness. Roughness.

“Harder,” I managed to say when our lips separated.

His chest rose as he stared at me intently. “I didn’t bring you back here for this, but if we start, I can’t promise I’ll stop this time.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop.”

He growled and came back at me. Desperate. Clutching his hair, I gave it back to him tenfold. Our lips were wild, greedy, hands and mouths and teeth demanding payment from the other, as if we’d waited an eternity to find each other.

This is what I’d craved since the moment I’d played for him.

“Can I touch you?” he breathed, his eyes heavy-lidded, imploring me to say yes.

I nodded and unbuttoned my dress until it slipped down my shoulders and drifted to my waist.

“V, you’re too much,” he hissed and tugged my demi-bra down until my breasts spilled out. He traced light circles around my areolas, making me crazy until finally he fingered my nipples and twisted.

I gasped. “Just like that,” I whispered. “Again.”

His mouth captured my breast, his tongue lashing at my tender skin, teasing me with flicks and pulls. His teeth nibbled at me, and I arched my back. Closer.
Yes, yes, yes
. I bit his neck, and he dug his fingers into my waist and groaned.

“Yes,” I breathed as he shoved my dress down further, his fingers teasing the waistband of my panties.

He pressed his forehead to mine and stared into my eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of this since you played that first night. I’ve wanted my cock inside you while you played … you on my lap, my hands on your ass, your tits in my face … damn, it sounds weird when I say it out loud.”

Desire knifed through me. “I like it,” I breathed. “Say it again.”

“Straddle me first,” he said.

I did and he shuddered as I ground myself against his hardness.

He tossed his head back. “V, don’t ever stop what you’re doing.”

I didn’t plan on it. My dampened panties slid over his jeans as he massaged my breasts, his fingers plucking my nipples, stretching them out. I arched my back, my body burning to have him inside me.
Yes.

He tore out of his jacket like a madman, and I helped yank his shirt off, until finally our flesh met skin to skin. His muscled pecs quivered as he clutched my back and held me, his breath coming in gasps.

“You’re shaking,” I murmured.

“I’m fucking dizzy over you, V.” The words came out haltingly as if he didn’t understand it.

“Me, too.” I unzipped his pants, eased my hand inside and stroked him. Full disclosure: his cock was a monster, at least eight inches and as wide as my wrist.

“Scared?” he teased as I paused to take him in.

I licked my lips. Maybe a little. I didn’t know if he’d fit.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised huskily, cupping my face.

Tapping noises seeped into my consciousness, voices invading our sanctuary.

“Fuck!”
Sebastian said on a groan as someone called his name and then mine.

Then a softer voice whined. Bubbles.

“V, we have to stop,” he said, his voice laced with heavy disappointment. He pressed his lips against my neck, bit me gently and then kissed the spot. “Spider’s liable to burst in on us.”

“Tell them to go away. I want to put my mouth on you first.” I stroked him, my fingertips ghosting over the head and twirling, rubbing the wetness from him down his length.

“V,” he ground out, swiveling his hips closer to me as I used both hands to pump him.

More knocks. More yelling from Blair.

“Dammit!”
He stilled my hands. “Look, we have to stop, okay? Not only are they waiting, but this is your boss’s office.”

Reality hit.
Fine
. I rubbed my face and pushed down my need for him. Why did I always do the wrong thing when it came to him? First, I’d kissed him, and now I’d practically begged him to fuck me. I sat back. I needed to breathe.

He kissed me gently and stood to tuck his shirt in. “Plus, I need to check on Blair. We’re supposed to go to a club tonight for pics.” He touched my face. “You wanna come too? Maybe we can sneak—”

“What? Sneak in another office? A bathroom?” I stood as well. Nope. This was all wrong.

“Okay, if that’s out, then let’s meet back at my place later, then. What do you say?” He cupped my shoulder and tried to pull me to him, but I resisted.

I pulled out of his touch and adjusted my bra, refusing to meet his eyes.

How could he be so cool now?

“I don’t think so.”

He stiffened at my sharp tone. “Hey, don’t be mad at me. I was up front with you about her.”

The old me reared up. She’d been doing it more and more lately, and I was glad to see her. “Yeah? Well, let me be upfront. I don’t play second violin. I play first. Always.”

He groaned. Exasperated. “Listen to me. I want you in my bed. I’m done trying to stay away from you, V, but we have to make sure the press doesn’t know. It would look bad if I was caught ‘cheating’ on her.” He stroked my face, his hands trailing down to my breasts where he thumbed my nipples.

My heart dipped. “Wait. So this is just about sex
and
you want to keep it a secret?”

He shrugged, a wary look growing on his face. “Don’t you? You don’t seem like the type to like the kind of attention I garner.”