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  Screw feeling guilty.   I take a condom from my wallet and roll it onto my length, looking at Addy's face as she watches me.   I'm rock hard because this girl makes me crazy.   She's the fulfillment of every fantasy I've had since I was seventeen.

  I try to be gentle with her.   I try to take my time, licking and sucking her breasts and nipples until she's arching up on the bed, her breath coming in short pants.   But she pulls at me, tells me she wants me now.   Begs me.

  Her pussy is slick when I put my fingers between her legs, yet I still hesitate, feeling the need to be careful with her, until she grips the base of my cock.

  "Please, Hendrix," she whispers, guiding me toward her entrance, and I rock into her slowly.

  When I press the tip of my cock inside her, it's all over.   She's so fucking tight, so warm, so wet, that I can't think anymore.   Shit, I can hardly breathe.   She grips my ass cheeks, pulling me inside her and letting out a soft moan as I fill her up.

  Moving gently, I watch the expression on her face change until it's no longer anything except pleasure.   Until she claws at my back and begs me.   "Harder," she whispers.   "Fuck me, Hendrix. "

  "Always trying to take control," I say, as I pin her hands above her head, using them for leverage to fuck her harder, with short thrusts as I feel myself getting closer and closer, bringing her to the edge.   I fuck her wordlessly, listening to her gasps in the still silence of the room until I'm sure she's close, her pussy swollen around me.

  "Fuck me, Hendrix," she whispers, bucking harder against me with everything she has, wrapping her legs around me.

  I try to mute my groan, but hearing her beg me is too much.   I whisper to her, hoping my words aren't audible outside the bedroom doors.   "I love fucking you," I say.   "I love the way your pussy feels, the way you grip my cock when you're so close to coming.   Because I know you're close, Addy.   I've thought about how you would feel coming on me for seven fucking years. "

  And she comes.

  She comes, and it's everything I fucking thought it would be.   Her orgasm triggers mine, her muscles milking me of every last drop, and I mute her scream with my mouth, swallowing her moans.

  Afterwards, neither of us speak.   There's nothing left to say.

  And for the first time in years, I sleep.

  FOUR YEARS, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO

  "Addison!  Over here!  Will you sign my t-shirt?  Oh my God, it's really her!" I catch snippets of the words from the crowd who line the back exit of the stadium.   I wave and smile, surrounded by bodyguards but conscious of all the photos that are being taken.   I'm wearing giant sunglasses that cover my red-rimmed eyes and the dark circles from last night.   I wish I could say I was partying, but I wasn't.   I was getting shit-housed and blaming myself for not saying what I should have said to Hendrix before he left.

  And now I might never see him again.   The thought pops into my head, and it stops me in my tracks.

  "Ms. Stone," one of the bodyguards says, taking my arm.   "Are you okay?"

  "Yes," I nod.   "I'm just tired from the show. "

  Page 47

  "Addison Stone, are you seeing anyone?"  Someone yells, a reporter most likely, and I turn in the direction of the voice.   The crowd cheers in response, and then I catch a glimpse of him.

  Hendrix, standing there in the middle of the crowd, giving me that same cocky grin he always has.

  When I blink, it's not him.   It's just someone who vaguely resembles Hendrix.

  "Ms. Stone, are you okay?" the bodyguard asks.   "We really should be getting you into the car. "

  "Yes. Yes, I'm fine," I say numbly.   "Of course.   The car. "

  "Did you want to stop to sign something for someone?" he asks.

  "No. "  I shake my head.   "There's nothing here I want to see. "

  PRESENT DAY

  I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows in the bedroom, and I close my eyes, drawing the covers up over my chest and nuzzling deeper inside their warmth.   Then I realize that the reason I'm warm isn't the covers.   It's Hendrix, his arms wrapped around my waist and his face nuzzled into the back of my neck.

  Fear grips my chest as I lie there beside him, not moving.   Shit.   I slept with Hendrix.

  My bodyguard.

  My stepbrother.

  Under my parents' roof.

  The morality clause in my contract.

  The thoughts come rushing into my head, shotgun-style, one right after the other, and with each thought, I have an increasing sense of panic.   My heart thumps wildly in my chest, so loudly I can hear it in my ears.

  Shit.   What did I do?

  What I just did with Hendrix flashes in my head too.   Except those are images, like watching a movie reel.

  Hendrix with his face buried between my legs.

  Hendrix's cock in my mouth.

  Hendrix thrusting inside me as he pins my hands above my head.

  Heat runs through my body at the thought of what happened between us, and it makes me feel claustrophobic.   Hendrix murmurs something in his sleep, and when he pulls me tighter against him, I break away from his arm and practically run for the bathroom.   Splashing water on my face, I'm in full-on panic mode.   I have to get Hendrix out of here before our parents catch us.

  I stand at the sink, breathing deeply in and out and counting by sevens.   Lucky number seven, I remind myself.   I count until I reach seven hundred seventy seven, before I've calmed down enough to go back.

  Hendrix is awake and he's sitting on the edge of the bed, with his jeans already on.   "You jumped out of bed like a bat out of hell," he says softly.   He looks at me accusingly, and I think I see disappointment in his eyes.

  "I had to pee," I lie.   I don’t know what to say.   I didn't think through the morning-after scenario.   There's not supposed to be an awkward morning-after situation, not with Hendrix.   He's not supposed to be like some random hookup, the next day walk-of-shame-and-forget-it-ever-happened thing, but that's the way he looks at me right now.   I think he's looking at me with regret in his eyes and I clench my jaw, trying to quell my disappointment.   "You should get out of here before our parents or someone else catches you. "

  Hendrix stands up, and I swallow the lump in my throat as he crosses the room and slides his arm around my waist.   "Or we could just say 'fuck it' and do it again. "

  I want to say yes.   I want to toss everything aside, all my worries and concerns about what might happen.   I want to shut the door and lock away the outside world.

  But I don't say that.   I don't say anything, and Hendrix exhales heavily and shrugs.   "Yeah, I thought as much.   Listen – it's nothing to get stressed out over.   I'll sneak out of here and no one's going to catch me.   It's not a big deal.   It's like it never happened. "

  "Hendrix, I – " I start, but he's already at the door, pulling it open a crack, and I hold my breath as I watch him stick his head out the door, and then disappear.   I close the door behind him, and I sink back down on the bed as doubt starts to creep into my mind.

  It's like it never happened.

  "I know you said on the phone that you were under the weather," Grace says, holding up a grocery bag.   "So I brought chicken soup and a movie and – hey, you don't look sick.   Oh my God, were you blowing me off?"

  Shit.   Busted.   I glance down the hallway in the direction of Hendrix's room and his closed door.   As soon as we got back from our parents' house, after the awkwardly long and silent drive here, I feigned a headache and holed up in my room, listlessly browsing the internet and reading tabloid articles about my friends.   Trashy, I know.

  Page 48

  I should talk to Hendrix about what happened.   But what do I say?  He seems to be fine with acting like it never happened.   "I wasn't blowing you off," I lie.   "We went to mom's last night.