Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I follow his gaze. There's no one there now. The curtains are down. And I don't care. "A little. And a little was for you. Mostly, it was for me."
"Fuck, Cass, I'm going to have to have you again."
"No." I press my palm into his chest and push him onto his back. "I'm going to have you again. But not yet. Right now, I'm going to clean this up properly."
I do away with the rest of my clothes, and I dive into the pool.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Damon
When we finish skinny dipping, Cassie and I return to the bedroom, and we have sex on every surface of the room.
For the first time, I understand the expression making love. The mood isn't soft or romantic, but the intensity is intimate.
I'm not sure how much is for me, how much is for him, how much is for her. Only that I love this side of her. I love seeing Cassie at her most demanding. At her most satisfied.
Fuck, I hope she's at her most satisfied. I fully intend to satisfy her again, but I'm too worn out. I fall asleep next to her. I sleep without a single toss or turn. I wake to the sound of humming.
Cassie, sitting at the desk, playing with the melody for a new page of lyrics. I lie there for a few minutes, watching her work. She's at peace here. She's exactly where she belongs.
Right now, watching her brow knit with concentration and soften with epiphany, watching her green eyes fill with pride, listening to the steady in and out of her breath, I'm exactly where I belong.
When I get out of bed, wash, dress, hug her good morning.
Even through a quiet breakfast and coffee.
Then the rest of the crew shows up, and I'm out of my depths again.
Frederick stares daggers at Cassie and me, but he doesn't say a word about his outburst last night. Or about what happened outside his window.
Tinsel watches Cassie carefully, the way I do, but she doesn't mention a thing.
Bryce and Lisa jump straight to shop talk.
We proceed like nothing of note happened last night. Maybe, for these four people, that's the case. Maybe a drunken outburst during a game for teenagers is par for the course.
Maybe they drank enough to forget.
Maybe they don't care about anything except their next fuck, high, success, whatever.
I don't know. I don't care. I don't like these assholes. I'm here because it's what Cassie needs, because I need this job too—
But fuck, I really hate these assholes.
I swallow the feeling with my next cup of coffee; I grab my guitar, and I try my best to fit here.
It's easy when it's just me and Cassie in a quiet room. With all these other people and trappings of success? Not so much.
For a few hours, Cassie and I take our turn with Bryce, playing with the songs we've already sent him and pitching new ideas.
Then we switch and spend a few hours with Lisa while Tinsel and Frederick take their turn with Bryce.
A strange, six-some lunch of Thai delivery. Cassie eats her usual favorite dish, the eggplant chicken that smells like oil and Thai basil. I order the red curry, extra spicy, and I let Cassie steal my coconut milk soaked fried eggplants.
She repays me by keeping the conversation focused on work. Then we fix more coffee, and we dive back into an afternoon of work. We get sucked into it. All of us. We work through dinner. We work way too late.
Even Bryce is too tired to suggest games for teenagers.
Since she's stuck on a song, Cassie convinces me to work until we get it. Only we don't get there. We fall asleep in the sheets, wake up in the morning, attack the song again.
That makes the morning easy.
The afternoon too.
Then Bryce's manager shows up, ready to make final selections, and all that ease disappears.
This is it.
This is where we find out if we succeeded or failed.
And damn if I don't want to destroy the motherfucker who hurt her.
I want him to walk away with nothing.
Not a song, or a glance, or a shred of her attention.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the team doesn't want us around for their discussion. They dismiss all four of us.
We walk out together in a haze. The air is too charged with possibility. The potential to score riches and success. The potential to fail.
This time, when we hit the driveway, Frederick steps aside to take a call.
Tinsel stares at Cassie with a mix of apology and curiosity in her eyes. Not that Cassie notices. She's swaying with exhaustion.
I lean in to whisper, "I think she wants to talk to you."
Cassie glances in Tinsel's direction.
Tinsel blushes enough, her cheeks match her hair. She holds up a hand to say hello and presses her lips into a sheepish smile.