Falling out of Hate with You: Hate - Love Duet Book One Rowe, Lauren (black books to read TXT) 📖

. . and having sex every night? Doesn’t that seem like a recipe for disaster?”

“For who? Are you saying you’re worried you’re going to catch feelings, Fitzy?”

“Of course not. I’m saying I’m worried you’re going to catch feelings.”

I scoff. “I’m not the one we need to worry about, sweetheart. I’m not the one who went on Sylvia and couldn’t stop talking about me.”

“And I’m not the one who couldn’t stop talking about me to that Instagrammer.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t believe her stupid story. Not for a second.”

“I believe every word of it.”

“No way. You’re messing with me. You know I said I needed to ‘lay low’ because of the show.”

“No. I believe, with all my heart, you said you didn’t want her because of Laila.”

“Why would I turn her down because of you?”

“Exactly. Why would you do that, Savage? Tell me.”

I pause, my heart racing. “I didn’t. You didn’t even cross my mind in that moment. When you’re not physically in front of me, I literally forget you exist. Hell, I barely remember you exist when you’re right in front of my face.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, Laila. If you’re worried I’ll ‘catch feelings’ from having sex with you while I’m stuck with you anyway, then don’t. I’m perfectly capable of separating fact from fiction. The real question is can you?”

“Of course I can.”

“Even if you’re living with, and sleeping with, and working with, your fake boyfriend who’s an irresistible god-among-men rockstar who’s hung like a jury?”

She scoffs. “I won’t catch feelings, Savage. Under any circumstances. Honestly, I don’t even like you.”

“Perfect, because I don’t like you. We’re a match made in heaven, if you ask me.”

She bites her lip and I know I’ve got her. Finally.

“So, we’re doing this then?” I say.

Laila pauses. “We’d be fuck buddies only. No strings. And nobody catches feelings.”

“Of course. It’ll be nothing but fun and a whole lot of orgasms.”

She puts out her hand. “Deal.”

I feel like jumping for joy but manage to maintain a neutral face while shaking her hand. “Now give me our first sober kiss to seal the deal.” With that, I pull her toward me. And when our lips meet, the kiss hits totally differently than our drunken, animalistic kisses from last night. This time, as my lips open hers, and my tongue slides into her mouth and begins slowly tangling with hers, I feel every nuanced sensation. Every shudder of arousal. Every inhale and exhale that tells me her temperature is slowly rising, the same as mine.

As our sensuous kiss deepens, I pull her out of her chair and guide her to straddle me in my chair, and, soon, she’s grinding against me as her tongue goads me on. I begin caressing her breasts over her tank top, pinching her stiff nipples, and burying my hands into her thick hair, every fiber of my body aching and yearning to get inside her.

“We’ve got time,” I murmur into her lips. “Come to my room. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes,” she breathes.

But she’s no sooner said the word than a voice in the doorway says her name. When we break apart, breathing hard, there’s a production assistant in the doorframe.

The PA says, “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She clears her throat. “Nadine sent me to fetch Laila and bring her to hair and makeup. She said we’re on a tight schedule.”

Laila smiles and kisses my cheek. “Rain check?” She slides off my lap and points at the noticeable bulge behind my sweatpants. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

I slap her ass as she turns to go. “Count on it, girlfriend.”

“Don’t miss me while I’m gone, boyfriend.”

“I can’t miss someone who ceases to exist when she’s not in my presence.”

“Sure, Jan.”

With that, she swishes her hips with extra flair, and disappears through the doorway with the PA. When she’s gone, and I know she can’t possibly hear me, I sit back in my chair, smiling from ear to ear, my hard cock throbbing and my heart racing, and whisper to myself, “Hallelujah.”

Thirty-Two

Laila

I follow the staffer outside and across Reed’s patio, heading toward Reed’s guest house in the back of Reed’s huge estate. Apparently, the hair and makeup woman has set up camp there. As we walk, we come upon Kendrick. He’s sitting on a patio chair with a laptop on his lap and headphones over his ears.

When he sees me, Kendrick pulls down one side of his headphones and greets me. “I just got the final mixes for our album!” he says effusively.

“Ooooh!” I say. “When can I listen? I seem to recall someone saying, on day one of our tour, I’d get to be one of your early listeners.”

“Absolutely. We’d love to get your feedback on the mixes. Give it a listen as soon as you can and let me know if you hear anything that sounds wonky to you—anything at all you think is too low or high in the mix.”

“It’d be my honor. I can’t wait.”

Kendrick clicks on his keyboard for a moment. “I just sent you a download link.”

I look at my phone. “Got it! Woohoo! I’ll listen now, while I’m getting my hair and makeup done!”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

“No, thank you.”

I say my goodbyes to Kendrick and resume following the PA to Reed’s casita, where I’m immediately greeted by the hair and makeup woman. After the woman gets me settled in her chair, we talk briefly about the look we’re going for today—sexpot, of course—and once we’re both on the same page, I settle back, put a pair of earbuds in, and press play on the first song of Fugitive Summer’s highly anticipated album.

Right away, it’s obvious the first song is going to be a massive hit, although I’d personally make the bass line a touch louder in the mix. Next up, the second song begins and I quickly fall equally in love with it. How does this band do it, album after album? Every song of theirs is like crack to me. And Savage’s voice and delivery is always