Trent lets loose a long whistle. “And that’s our cue. ’Night.” There’s a shuffle of footsteps along with the clink of beer bottles, and I don’t dare try to pull away from Coy’s assault on mylips.
With relief that they’re no longer watching, I relax and give in to the power of Coy’s touch, at least enough that I’m no longer fighting against him. His hands guide my hips, forcing them to grind against hiserection.
His lips leave mine for a short breath. “Bedroom.Now.”
The command doesn’t leave room for discussion and I stand up, glad to see Sean and Trent aren’t anywhere to befound.
“Looking for someone?” Coy’s tone is hard and mean, and my gaze snaps up inreturn.
“No. I just . . .” I glance around the mess we’ve made—the game, empty bottles, and half eaten bags of chips. “We should put some of this awayfirst.”
Coy rolls his eyes and tugs me to his chest so I have to look up to meet his gaze. “Jess, you’d rather clean than let me fuck that pretty cunt? That what you’resaying?”
“No,” I whisper and drop mygaze.
“Then if you don’t want me to fuck you right here, right now in this room, you’d better get that ass upstairs.” His confidence builds with each command and it’s clear that this is what he needs from me right now. To have control. He gives my ass a sharp smack. “Now.”
I give a little jump and turn toward the hall. Coy is on my heel, but I don’t look back as my feet carry me up the stairs and toward the room we share. The minute we’re inside, door locked and lights off, I squeeze my eyes shut and give in completely. He takes, but I let him. It’s the same as it always is, but at the same time it’s not. Our axis of power and control has shifted. Something has changed. It’s me. And I don’t have the mental headspace to examine exactly why thatis.
* * *
The bristlesof my toothbrush dig against the tender flesh of my gum, but I rub even harder with a futile, obsessive need to clean my mouth. I’ve showered, too. And while my body might be fresh and clean after an especially rough sexual encounter with Coy, it’s my mind that struggles to wash away dark thoughts that streak mud across a once clean surface; to erase the doubts that threaten a once acceptable existence. I don’t always take pleasure in sex, but tonight’s the first time with Coy that I found myself wishing it were over before we evenbegan.
Coy’s never been tender or sweet, not when we have sex, but he always holds me afterwards. Apologizes when he takes it too far, like tonight. He can’t always rein in his power in the heat of the moment, but afterwards he always makes sure I’m okay. Only this time I wasn’t. I wasn’t okay with giving over my body to his will. Not when every touch, kiss, and thrust was about him. Not when I kept closing my eyes and wishing I were somewhereelse.
Taking a mouthful of water, I rinse out the residue of toothpaste with a determination to get things back to a normal I can live with. To pretend I’m okay. It’s a survival skill that’s kept me sane most of my life, and I slide into the role naturally. “I never won at anything before tonight. That was fun.” My lips pull into a smile that doesn’t resonate with how I feel, but even I’m fooled by my ownreflection.
Coy eyes me from the shower, having shut off the water moments before. He wraps his towel around his waist, and water droplets rest on his skin as he meets my gaze in the mirror. “Really? You think? Kinda boring, in myopinion.”
I squirt lotion into my palms and rub them together before coating my arms and legs. “I never got to play games like that when I was a kid. I don’t know, maybe that’s why it wasfun.”
Coy drops the towel and pads over to the attached walk-in closet to retrieve a pair of boxer briefs. “It’s a little strange, don’t you think? These guys are supposed to be these badass rock stars and what do we do on our Friday night? Play kids’ games.Lame.”
His words only make me feel worse inside. Maybe it was ordinary, but I liked it. I found the guys to be more endearing, too, after seeing a side to them that wasn’t about fame or pretense. “Yeah, I guessso.”
“I’m not complaining. It’s just, this isn’t what I signed up for.” Coy stops by the mirror to finger comb his hair. “That reminds me, we needpassports.”
Fear knocks the breath from my gut like a sucker punch. “What?”
“Yeah, for the tour.” Coy grabs his toothbrush and paints a seam of minty white paste along the bristles as if he didn’t just shatter the well-crafted safety net around mylife.
“But I thought you’d only be in North America.” My eyes are wide in the mirror’s reflection and my fingers grip the counter until my knuckles gowhite.
Coy scrubs his teeth, his gaze never leaving his own reflection except to spit. “We were, but they added some festival inCanada.”
“Coy, I can’t get a passport!” My pulse thrums so hard it feels as if my heart’s beating inside my neck. The oversized T-shirt and boy shorts I’m wearing suddenly stick to my skin like a winter coat in summer; everything’s too heavy andrestricting.
Coy rolls his eyes, sets his toothbrush on the counter, and rinses his mouth before turning to me. “Jess. Chill out. It’s not a bigdeal.”
“It kind of is! How am I supposed to get a passport without my birth certificate? Tell me that.” I’m never so sharp, but the anxiety of my past propels past my self-preservation.
Coy’s brow pulls to a scowl and he glares. “Chill the fuck out. I’ll handle it,Jess.”
“I can’t go back . . .” I lift my hand to my throat, a need to feel my own pulse beat and reassure myself I’m here. Living in thenow.
Coy steps forward until his arms wrap around my waist. “You won’t have to. I already spoke with the PR rep at the label. They’re on it.” His words are meant to comfort, but anxiety gets the best of me. I can’t have people knowing about me. I can’t face them if theydo.
“You told them? Did you tell everyone in the band, too?” I know better than to question him, and the minute the words fly from my lips I regretthem.
