Page 16 of Grip Me Tight
“What’s the deal with this guy, anyway? What does he want?”
She shrugs, the small movement drawing my attention to the satin sheen of her creamy shoulder and I want to touch her, feel her warmth, smell the day’s sun on her skin. I dig my hands deeper into my pockets.
“I don’t know. He’s sorry, he’s not sorry. He wants me to invite him here and if I don’t, he’s going to show up anyway and remind me what I’m giving up.” She finger-quotes the word ‘remind’ and I don’t get the impression that he means it in the showering-her-with-roses-and-chocolate kind of reminding. I kind of wish the asshole would show up here so Noah and I could ‘remind’ him how he’s supposed to treat people.
“Why’d you break up in the first place?”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re interested. You’re a rock star now, right? Rich and famous and you don’t need to worry about anybody else.”
I wince. That’s not quite how we left things last time, but close enough for me to remember the rawness in my chest as I spoke those lies to her, while I could still taste the lemonade from her lips on mine. But if I hadn’t left when I did, I feared I’d never be able to walk away from her.
She deserves far more in life than me. This is still true, but I hate the way that jerk spoke to her. Sterling might be destined for greater things than me, but I didn’t push her away so she could end up with someone like Jake the Jerk who should thank his lucky stars every night she ever looked in his direction. “I’m interested.”
“Really? Why now, after all these years?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you come home?” She holds her hands up. “And don’t give me some bullshit line about how this isn’t your home, because it is.”
The certainty with which she says it reminds me of the time she cried when I had to go home because mom found out where I was, and I didn’t want her coming over and making a scene with the Whitlocks. Sterling and I had been playing Mario Kart and Don came into the family room with his keys.
“You don’t have to leave, son. I can speak with her.”
“I have to go.”
Sterling’s wide eyes swing to me as her pink princess car spins off the cliff. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“But this is your home.”
I snap out of the memory, wishing the woman in front of me still looked like a pale, skinny kid with eyes too big in her face, instead of this golden goddess with curves a man would happily die for. “Noah wanted us all here. We try to come every year anyway.”
She nods, slowly, like I’m confused and she’s trying to be gentle in her correction. “The guys all come here every year for the party, but you haven’t been here since Kingmaker got its first deal.”
“Keeping tabs on me, Silver?”
Sterling rolls her eyes. “Hardly a difficult exercise. You guys are everywhere online, tv, the radio and all those magazines in the grocery store.”
“So, you are keeping tabs on me. Do you sleep with one of those magazines under your pillow?” I bite my tongue. Why did I say that? Even though I haven’t seen her in years, I can’t help baiting her, seeing her eyes spark in frustration which is way better than seeing the sparkle of tears that inspired the song “Snow” from our second album.
Sterling arches an eyebrow. “Why? Does it turn you on?”
“What?” I’m pretty sure it comes out as a croak.
Sterling takes a step closer, and I step back. She notices and a calculating look crosses her face. She steps toward me again, and I stand my ground, enduring the agony of her soft scent drifting to me on the night air. She smells like lemon and sugar and the tang of coconut sunscreen I’ll always associate with summers here, swimming in the lake, all of us fishing off the dock and roasting hot dogs for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Emma’s homemade ice cream and lemonade and feeling like I could finally breathe.
I square my shoulders as Sterling lifts a hand, placing it on my chest. I flinch and her gaze collides with mine.
“I asked if the idea of me sleeping with a picture of you under my pillow turns you on.”
I swallow hard. “Of course not, bug. You’re Noah’s sister.”
She blinks and I think I might be off the hook, but instead of backing up, she curls her fingers into my shirt. I hold myself very still, like the time we did a video for “Wild”, and we had real tigers on the set. One of them decided they wanted to cuddle up with me. As cool as that experience was, my heart was going about million beats a minute, and it was responding the same way now, with Sterling so close to me, the heat from her hand branding itself onto my chest, my cock aching from the proximity.
“I’m notyoursister. You don’t even think of this as home.”
I reach up, wrapping my fingers around her delicate wrist, intending to push her away, but instead I simply hold her there, our gazes clashing, and I hope she doesn’t notice the response she has on me.
