Snare (Falling Stars #3) (23 page)

"I'll be back for you later, baby," I say in a cheesy flirt voice, pointing at the wine.

The shower makes me feel better.

The laundry annoys the crap out of me. I hate laundry. If I could afford a delivery dry cleaner service, I'd be all about that shit.

At the knock on my door, my stomach growls. We both know pizza awaits us on the other side.

Grabbing my wallet, I notice how quickly they delivered. I open the door, and say, "You deserve an awesome tip for—"

"Sid," he says, pushing by me into my apartment.

Holy shit, he's here. Why is he here? He's ruining all my sulking into a bottle of wine plans.

"What the fuck are you—?"

"We need to talk," Xavier states, dropping his bag onto my living room floor.

He looks around my apartment.

"Nice place," he says, eyes coming back to me.

"I think we said everything we needed to." I point to the open door. "You can go now."

He steps forward, grabs the edge of the door, and shoves it closed, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You said what you thought you needed to and I made a bad choice. I'm here to correct my mistake."

He moves into my personal space.

I step back and open my mouth when there's another knock.

My stomach growls.

I'm like Pavlov's fucking dog.

Head ready to explode, I answer the door, pay for the pizza, and ignore his presence.

I fail—or, he makes sure of my failure by following me into the kitchen.

Pretending he's not filling up my space, I grab a plate and wine glass.

"I talked to Liza." His words cause me to still.

"And?" I whisper, dread coiling around every vein in my body.

She wouldn't.

"And, nothing," he says, making me spin to meet his face.

I can't fight the wobble of my chin.

"You aren't the same girl." The words heat my skin. "What happened is complete bullshit and not your fucking fault, but it's not who you are." He steps closer.

The counter presses into my lower back as his arms come out and cage me in place.

"I know you aren't." His eyes drop to my lips before slowly moving up my face. It's like an invisible caress. "I just wish you knew it, too."

My tears fall without my permission and a sob sneaks into the space between us.

"She shouldn't have told you," I cry, burying my face in my hands.

"Sid, baby." His fingers touch my wrists.

I pull away, shoving around his body.

"Don't," I growl.

All the shame, guilt, and ugliness rising to the surface, I spew my anger at him like hot poison.

"I don't need your fucking pity, and I sure as fuck don't want it!"

"Sid…" He takes a step, but I put my arm up, stopping him.

"My…past isn't some excuse for what I said, I meant it," I half-lie.

I'd totally meant to piss him off and push him away, but it killed me to do it.

"Bullshit," he says, calling me out.

"Fuck you," I sneer. "Just because you know…"

My God, it's physically painful to talk about this.

My chest burns, the anxiety rising to catastrophic levels.

"Just because you know about that doesn't mean you know me." Again, another partial lie.

What he said in the kitchen is the first time someone laid it out like that. It's the first time someone recognized that I'm
not
that girl. Hell, I hadn't been for a long time, but the pain is still there. It would never be easy to talk about and my anxiety was manageable until recently.

The right side of his mouth lifts in a half smile.

"I see through you, Sid," he says, coming closer. "The same way you see through my bullshit, call me on it, and relentlessly tease me."

I drop my arm and take four steps backward until I bump the couch. With the feel of the furniture against my ass and him approaching, something inside me snaps.

Fisting my hands, I march forward and slap my palm to the middle of his chest.

His step falters at my act.

The moment he's distracted, I turn the tables and push him back until he's forced to sit on one of the stools at the island.

"Stop trying to intimidate me," I growl. "You have a serious personal space issue."

His grin isn't what I expect.

"Maybe you are starting to realize you aren't the girl because this is the Sid I met and spent a week with," he says, his voice deep and stern.

He sees through my shit. He sees me.

The anger dissolves, but my breathing stays erratic. My body flushes with heat as a deep throb begins between my legs.

"It's good to see you again," he says.

My eyes drop to his mouth and he licks his lips.

Fisting his shirt, I crash my mouth to his and climb up him, invading
his
space.

I manage to get one leg over his thigh and his hands come to my ass, helping me straddle his lap.

Fingers digging into my ass, he stands and I grab his shoulders.

He breaks away from the kiss, and pants, "Bedroom?"

"Hallway," I mumble against the side of his neck.

We make it halfway to our destination when he pushes me against wall and grinds into me. I lean my head back and he kisses down my exposed neck before restarting the path to the bedroom.

In my room, he sits on the bed, keeping me on top.

I claw at his shirt and remove it from his body.

He returns the act and as soon as my bare chest is revealed, his hands cup and his mouth descends.

Grabbing the back of his head, I hold him to me and grind against his rock hard dick.

Xavier slides his hands down my sides and over my hips. He lifts, sets me on my feet, and quickly pulls down my leggings and underwear.

Standing before him completely naked, I swallow the urge to cover myself.

His rough drummer's hands glide up my thighs and splay over my hips before continuing the journey to my breasts.

"You're fucking gorgeous." I feel his beard, coarse and teasing, before his lips press just above my belly button.

I gasp and clench inside.

Digging my fingers into his hair, I pull his head back, lean down, and take his mouth again, fucking it with my tongue.

My hands go to work on the fly of his jeans, but I'm not as patient as Xavier. Instead of removing them, I get them to mid-thigh before I'm on him again. Reaching to my right, I yank open the side table drawer and remove the gold packet.

"That's more like it," he approves.

In a blink, I have the condom out and on him.

He uses his hands to push his pants lower, but grabs my hips the moment I bury him inside me.

The noise that comes out of my throat sounds foreign. I have no fucking idea what I'm saying. All I know is his cock fills and rubs all the right places.

I take hold of his shoulders and give a light shove, forcing him to plant his palms on the bed behind him. Then, I rise to his tip and drop into his lap.

"Fuck," he growls, dropping his head back.

Up and down, I move over him.

As my orgasm approaches, I wrap one hand around his neck and bounce faster, harder.

"Sid," he pants, "I'm going to—"

"Oh my God." I jerk down on him, my orgasm hitting hard.

I wrap my arms around his head and hold him to my chest. One of his arms comes around my lower back, helping me ride out the euphoric wave. He gives a hard upward thrust, sending post orgasmic tingles up my belly as he grunts and pumps through his own release.

Lying on his stomach, my face pressed to his chest and his hands trailing up and down my spine, I feel different. I trail a finger around his nipple and bite my lip. I can't figure out what it is and it's driving me crazy.

"You okay?" he quietly asks.

"Yeah," I respond, just as quiet.

I shift to get up and he groans as his softening cock slips from my body.

"I'm hungry," I say, feeling dazed.

"O-kay." He sits up and watches me slip back into my clothes.

I'm almost to the bedroom door when he calls out, "Hey?"

I turn as he stands from the bed, removes the condom, and pulls up his pants.

"You sure you're okay?" His eyes search mine.

"Yeah," I repeat with a nod.

It's not a lie. I am okay. I think I'm better than okay, but…

Xavier follows me out to the living room, unbuttoned pants low on his hips.

He picks his bag up off the floor and puts the strap over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean up," he says, motioning toward the hall with his head.

"Okay. Clean towels are in the hall closet," I tell him, rounding the island and opening the pizza box.

He hesitates for a moment before I hear his footsteps down the hall.

Once he's gone, I grab the bottle of Merlot, fill my wine glass, put it to my lips, and chug.

Fuck, I'm letting him in. What the hell am I thinking? He's already in.

I set down the glass and move half the pizza from the box to my oven.

What the hell am I doing?

Another drink.

I notice my mail from over the rim of the glass.

Setting the envelopes aside, I tear open the box and pull out a ton of packaging. A single homemade DVD lies at the bottom of the box.

Furrowing my brow, I grab my wine, carry the DVD to my Xbox, and start the video.

At first, it's dark and granular. It's also familiar.

My heart pounds and I drop the controller to the floor.

My grainy image appears, naked, exposed, and going at it with that dicktard football player from college. Oh, the plots I developed around his painful and torturous death, but, though still an asshole, I discovered he was just as much a victim, not knowing we were being filmed.

"Oh my God," I gasp.
The bastard barista has gone too far this time.
"That asshole!" I scream.

Chapter Twenty

Xavier

Her scream sends a chill down my spine.

I rush down the hallway and slide to a halt.

Anger boils beneath my skin, but her movements get my attention.

Sid's face is buried in her hands, head shaking and shoulders jerking.

Pushing my anger to the back, I stalk forward, snatch the remote off the floor, and exit the video. Dropping to my knees next to her, I grab her wrists.

"Sid, baby, it's alright," I try to soothe, pulling her hands from her face.

I drop back on my heels and release her wrists.

"He's such an idiot," she cries with a laugh.

She's fucking laughing.

Furrowing my brow, I run my hand through my hair.

She throws herself back into the couch, gasping between bouts of hysterical laughter.

"Sid?" Concern laces my question.

Placing a hand to her chest, she half laughs, half pants, "I can't breathe."

"What's going on? Isn't that…" I thumb over my shoulder.

"Whew," she exhales, sitting up. "Yeah, it is," she nods, "and the bastard barista is a fucking idiot." Her voice goes from amused to vengeful.

"You lost me." I shake my head, and she grins.

"I own the rights to the video," she discloses.

"The rights?" I ask, still confused.

"Come on," she drawls out the words. "You, of all people, should know about copyrighting footage."

The buzz of the oven interrupts the conversation. She stands and walks to the kitchen. I follow.

"You have to register a video to…" That's when it hits me.

She takes pizza from the oven and set the slices on some plates.

Turning, she smiles.

"The video went viral," she tells me, though I already know. "In order to gain some control at taking it down, I found a business law student and she helped me get sole rights to the video."

"A law student?" I ask, my question giving away how impressed I am.

"She's my business lawyer to this very day."

She picks up a piece of pizza and takes a small bite.

Well, fuck. Liza wasn't exaggerating about how smart she is.

"You can't download, purchase, or share the video without violating the copyright," she says around another bite. "He's fucked so many ways."

"You're sure it was him?" I ask, curious how she can trace it back to this asshole.

She snorts. "I'm sure he left an electronic signature on that DVD," she says, lifting her chin toward the TV. "One call to my lawyer and she'll have the package tracked since it could be considered harassment."

I step around the island and cage her against the counter.

"I think you're making me hard again," I tease.

She glances down at my pants, then back up to my face.

"Food first, fucking later, big girl's gotta eat." She takes another bite.

Scowling, I reach around her, grab my own slice, and scold, "You need to stop putting yourself down."

She blinks up at me.

"Because I called myself a big girl?"

I give a nod and bite into the pizza.

"Fuck, this is good," I say before taking a second bite.

"I know, right? But, back to this big girl thing. It's not an insult. It's a fact."

I groan, preparing to disagree.

"Look, Sasquatch, you can growl and grumble all you want. I'm not some tiny little thing. If you're okay with that, then don't get your furry thong in a twist when I state facts."

"Okay," I agree, considering what she said, "but…"

"Of course there's a but. Guys are always so quick to go straight for anal," she teases.

Chuckling, I continue, "But I need you to attempt to see yourself the way I do."

She purses her lips and moves her head side to side before giving an agreeing nod.

"As long as you see yourself as the overbearing, personal space invading, ginger Sasquatch I see you as," she counters, giving a large smile before taking a bite out of her pizza.

"You're impossible," I laugh, shaking my head.

"Can you deal with that?"

Warmth spreads through my chest. I toss my unfinished pizza back on the pan and invade her space. Taking her pizza from her hand, I toss it next to mine.

"I said food first," she protests, giving the slice a longing look.

"Too bad," I say, wrapping my arms around her waist and spinning. I back her against the kitchen island and lift her onto it.

"Overbearing, space invader," she mumbles.

"Can you deal with that?" I turn her question back on her.

Her eyes widen and a sharp inhale leaves her parted lips.

She nods, and I kneel.

"What are you doing?"

She gasps and grips the countertop as I pull her pants to her ankles.

Spreading her thighs, I look up at her.

"One of us needs to eat," I say, licking my lips.

"Yeah, sure," she says, thigh muscles tensing under my hands. "Proceed."

I grin and dive in, tongue first.

Sidra

I sit at my computer and catch up on my mail and other tasks I can only do from home. I do this while running a custom program on the DVD and trying not to eavesdrop on Xavier's phone call. But, it's difficult to achieve when he's so loud and I'm a nosy bitch.

"I miss you guys, too." The sincerity and love in his words melts my cynical heart just a bit.

"Tomorrow night. It will be late by the time I get to the house, but I'll be there." He pauses. "I don't think…look, the only friend-zone you need to be concerned with is making sure that's where all the boys you know stay."

I snort at his warning and the fact that his teenage daughter is discussing the friend-zone. His eyes shift to me. I bite my lip and focus on my monitor, pretending I'm not listening.

"I'll tell her, but don't get your hopes up," he sighs. "Call me tonight before you go to bed." Another pause. "Okay, bye, girls."

I feel him approach, but don't look up from the coding updates for the Toy BoXXX
TM
website.

"Lyra and Cass want you to come home with me," he states, tossing his phone on my desk.

It's not a question. He's not asking me to go with him, so I don't respond.

He sits in an office chair next to me and kicks his bare feet up on the arm of my chair.

Glancing down, I frown at his toes, pick up a pen, and use it to shove his feet off.

"You wanna fly back with me?"

My fingers freeze over my keyboard.

Shit. Are we a couple? Is this just mutually exclusive sex? Fuck, are we exclusive?

"I'm sure you've got shit to take care, especially after…"

And there's my out. He's giving me the 'it's completely fine if you don't come'.

I look over to find him waving at the beige disk drive holding the DVD.

I'm going with mutually exclusive sex—dedicated fuck buddies.
I sigh internally.
And why does this conclusion even bother me?

"Yeah, thanks," I give my best calm voice, "but I really need to make a decision on the Toy BoXXX offers, resolve some outstanding business, and meet up with my lawyer."

I shrug and hope I'm not revealing the totally fucking crazy, why-don't-you-love-me girl losing her shit inside me.

"Completely understand," he responds.

Did he sound relieved I turned him down?

I fist my hands and close my eyes. The last thing I need to worry about is a guy.

When did I turn into such a fucking twat-minded idiot? Time to draw the line in the emotional sands. I can separate sex from love, and I sure as fuck am not in love with the big hairy asshole.

Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and focus on my tasks.

He rolls his chair up to my desk and thumbs through my papers.

My OCD kicks in and I snap, "Yes, please make a mess of my shit. It's not like they're important legal and business papers."

His eyes gaze up at me and he raises a thick brow.

"Wanna tell me what the real problem is?"

Fuck.

"The problem is you're messing up my space." It's only a sort-of lie.

I do hate for people to move my shit, especially on my desk, but my attitude is leftover frustration with my internal struggle.

"I'm particular about it." I shrug, returning to my keyboard.

"I hope you aren't taking these offers," he states, regaining my attention.

Swiveling my chair to face him, I ask, "Why?"

"Because they're shit." He shoves the papers and sits back in the chair.

"Yeah, well, it's all I have at the moment," I sigh, leaning forward and straightening them back into their dedicated piles.

"Can't you get rid of him legally without selling out or even buying him out?"

"Not until he's served with criminal charges." I settle back. "And until then, I'll have to deal with him for business decisions. I'm just trying to get out of this before it gets to be like the last…" I let my words and eyes drop.

"Because it was drawn out over a year," Xavier finishes for me, his hand coming to my thigh and pulling me closer.

With two thick fingers beneath my chin, he lifts my head until our eyes meet.

"Just don't sell yourself short. If this matters to you, it's worth the fight." His thumb swipes my bottom lip.

Using my feet, I put space between us and turn back to the computer.

"I haven't made a decision. Yet," I clarify. "I have fifteen days to give a response."

His phone vibrates, taking his attention off me for a moment.

We sit in amicable silence for a while, me knocking some of my tasks off the to-do list and him on his cell phone.

"My family is coming to the show in Miami next week," he says, breaking into the quiet.

"That'll be nice," I say.

"You should stay with us," he offers.

I lift my left hand from the keyboard and wave him off. "Nah, I'm all set at the hotel."

"The girls would love it," he tries to persuade.

"Wait—where are you staying?" I ask, realizing they can't all be staying at the hotel.

"The Florida house," he answers.

"You have a house in Florida?" I quirk one brow.

"Mom bought it as a place for her and Dad to retire," he explains.

"Yet, it will fit your entire family?"

"Mom only thinks in terms of family. She basically bought a second house on the east coast to use as a filming location and a way to follow my band from coast to coast," he discloses.

"I see."

"So?" he presses.

"I'll stay at the hotel, but thanks." I don't miss the narrowing of his eyes before I look away.

"Dad will be there," he drawls, like he's dangling a carrot.

And he totally fucking is! This is Duncan Stone, owner and CEO of Stonehard Productions. He's the king of porn.