Undesired Lust Read online

  UNDESIRED LUST

  Copyright © 2014 by Eden Summers

  Content Editing by Rachel Firasek

  Copy Editing by Lori Whitwam

  Cover Art by Willsin Rowe

  Formatting by Max Effect

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

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  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

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  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Also by Eden Summers

  About the Author

  I’ve been stuck on this dedication for days, simply because words can never express the gratitude I feel for those who’ve helped shape my life into what it is today.

  Writing doesn’t come easy for me. It’s lonely work. So I’m extremely thankful for the people who have stuck by me and helped me through all the difficult parts of this journey.

  To my proofreaders — Delilah, Megan, Tina, Kaylyn, and Tracy. You’ve dropped everything for me time and time again when I know how hectic your lives are. Thank you.

  To Tracy Arnett, the goddess of promo — I’ve tried many times to tell you how much I appreciate your friendship and support. And I’ll continue to keep telling you. But it will never be enough. I’ll be forever in your debt.

  To the readers of Reckless Beat —Your reviews, enthusiasm, and excitement are the reason I continue to publish. Having other people love my men is a crazy concept for me to get my head around and I love you all for it.

  And last but never least, to my husband, the man who has never wavered in his support for my career choice. The one who listens to me rant and has to deal with the moody outbursts that accompany my writing cycle. You are a blessing. You’ve given me everything and ask for nothing in return. I think my awesomeness may be rubbing off on you.

  Two Years Ago

  “AND THE GRAMMY for Best Rock Song goes to…”

  Sidney Higgins held her breath, her gaze glued to the presenter aglow in stage lights. Mason Lynch sat to her left, his hand holding hers in a reassuring grip. Tonight, he was more gorgeous than usual, in a tailored black suit and his blond, wavy hair loose against his jaw line. She didn’t need to glance his way to know his confident smile was aimed at her. She could feel it on her skin, the light tingle of awareness which always haunted her whenever he was close.

  “Don’t sweat it. We’ve got this in the bag,” he murmured over the hush in the room.

  His arrogance never ceased to amaze her. It was natural to him. Effortless. Strangely, she found it endearing. His confidence rubbed off on her, increasing her sense of accomplishment, not only in her career, but life in general.

  Right now, though, his sonic boom of awesomeness wasn’t penetrating her nerves, or her need to use the bathroom. This was her first Grammy nomination, and the butterflies alone were enough to make her double over.

  “… Mason Lynch and Sidney Higgins for ‘Tough Love.’”

  Oh my god.

  They did it. They won a fucking Grammy.

  “I don’t believe it.” The words tightened her throat, whispering from her lips as thunderous applause erupted around them. She turned her wide-eyed gaze to Mason and found him staring at her, grinning. No elation. No shock or disbelief. He simply stared at her as if the sun rose and set in her eyes.

  Someone clapped her shoulder, followed by another and another. She was too awe struck and numb to notice who. Her focus was glued to the gleaming, mocha-brown irises of the most talented man she’d ever known. He stood, continuing to hold her hand and her attention as he tugged her to her feet.

  “Let’s get you a Grammy, kitten.”

  Ovaries—boom. That endearment did it to her every time. Her nipples hardened. And right now, in a skintight evening gown and thin lace bra, she couldn’t think of anything worse. Think of dirty dishes, laundry, clubbing baby seals. Hell, even the thought of the unsigned recording contract currently sitting on her dining room table wasn’t enough to drag her mind from lurid thoughts of Mason.

  Clearing the gravel from her throat, she followed him into the aisle leading to the stage, and sneaked a glance over her shoulder at the hundreds of applauding people. Surreal. The man of her dreams at her side. A Grammy waiting to be awarded. The world at her feet. Tears stung her eyes, and her grin turned into a beaming smile. Everything fell into place. Life was perfect, and maybe this achievement would stop her father from worrying about her risky career choice.

  Mason tugged her into his arms and then squeezed her tight, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations, Sid,” he whispered against her neck, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine.

  She hugged him, her pulse pounding in her ears. “We really did it.”

  “You doubted our unstoppable skills? The world doesn’t stand a chance against us.” He pulled back, gifting her with another delicate sweep of his lips, this time on her temple. “Now let’s go get our prize.”

  ***

  MASON RECLINED INTO the rooftop sofa, scotch in hand, and stared at the woman dancing with his best friend, Sean. Perfection. That was the only way to describe her. Her sweet, lush lips, her playful, hazel eyes, the way her hips swayed as she twirled in those sexy little heels. He had a thing for her. Maybe not a big thing, but it was definitely growing if the crotch of his pants was anything to go by.

  Sean caught his gaze and waggled his brows. “I’m dancing with a Grammy award winner!” His voice died under the beat of techno crap the dick jockey was playing. They were at a Grammy after party for fuck’s sake. Play some good music, asshole.

  “You can blow one, if you like,” Mason shouted.

  Sidney burst into laughter, her head falling back, the short, almost-black hair fanning her shoulders as she clung to Sean’s biceps. When she straightened, her dimples hit Mason with the force of a truck driver on speed. He could watch her for hours, had already done so while working together on the latest Reckless Beat album. He didn’t think his libido would ever get enough.

  Jutting his chin, he commanded her in a not-so-subtle way to get her sexy ass to his side. Her brow quirked in response while she continued to dance, making her moves more sultry. More fucking hard to ignore. And he’d been such a good boy until now. He’d made sure all their c
ollaboration time had been purely platonic, even though he had to battle lust daily. He’d matched her high level of professionalism, played it cool, and instead of pushing her up against the nearest studio wall and fucking her senseless, he’d waited until he was alone to shoot his enthusiasm all over the shower wall like a pubescent teen.

  Yep. She was that fucking brilliant. And he couldn’t turn his fantasies into reality because they worked together. The risks were too high. Sidney was the only person he’d successfully collaborated with. She got him. They shared the same musical spirit, and he knew their relationship would be compromised if he got her hot little body beneath his. Well, he had known when the shit flowing through his veins wasn’t eighty percent alcohol.

  Right now, she looked like a challenge he wanted to accomplish. More than once.

  “Come on.” He jerked his head again and crooked a finger. Don’t play hard to get. It drives me fucking wild.

  She paused, her dance moves slowing as she scraped her lower lip between her teeth.

  Yeah, that’s it, little kitten. Come to papa.

  His heart stopped with the first step she took in his direction. Then the fucker restarted in double-time. She prowled toward him, her normally professional demeanor nowhere in sight. He’d been used to Sidney Higgins—business woman and songwriter extraordinaire. The female—this stranger—sashaying toward him was a seductress, and entirely in control of his libido.

  She stopped in front of him, the tips of her shoes touching his. “You summoned me?”

  He gulped the final swig of his scotch, hoping the burn would take the edge off his arousal. His dick twitched against his thigh. Nope. No luck there. His mic was still wired for sound. “Want to go someplace quiet?”

  In an instant, the seductress vanished and her wide-eyed stare made him doubt his question.

  “Where we goin’?” Sean interrupted, coming up behind Sidney and placing his chin on her shoulder.

  “Back to my hotel room. I’ve got the penthouse. Stocked bar. Room service. We can take our shoes off, put on real music, and celebrate our achievement in style.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Sean tilted his head, his lips hovering close to Sidney’s ear. “What do you say, award winning songstress?”

  Mason wanted to kick his friend in the balls, but violence wouldn’t work in his favor. Besides, Sean could be a buffer. A third wheel would make Sidney more comfortable. Then again, having Sean unable to use his junk might be a valuable strategy.

  She let out a half-hearted chuckle, her gaze still nervously holding Mason’s. “I guess so. I won’t stay long, though. We passed my bedtime hours ago.”

  “We can go straight to bed if you like.” The line flew from his lips before he could hold the fucker in.

  Sidney’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him, leaving nothing but the heavy techno beat hammering between them. He didn’t mind, he loved the attention, always had. Even better was the enticing swipe of her tongue gliding along her grinning lips.

  “Don’t get yourself in trouble, Mason. I’m not always a little kitten.”

  “WHO KNEW IT took two bottles of champagne, a tequila sunrise, and a shot of Baileys for your inhibitions to vanish?”

  Sidney kicked off her heels and rolled her eyes at Mason sitting on the other end of the sofa. It thrilled her to know he paid attention to what she’d consumed. “What do you know about my inhibitions, Mr. Lynch?”

  “I’ve worked with you more times than I can count. You’re the buttoned up, sweet, and professional type. Far from the drunkenly swaying woman sitting beside me.”

  “Pfft. I’m not swaying.” Well, OK, maybe the floor was tilting slightly. “I just normally like to keep my private and professional lives separate.”

  He cocked a brow and turned his body toward her, his arm going over the back of the sofa. “So, dirty dancing with a guy like Sean is normal in your private life?”

  She glanced at the roof, over exaggerating her pondering.

  “Or leaving an after-party with two men,” he continued. “Or grabbing a guy’s Johnson in the back of the—”

  “Hey!” She straightened, her head twirling as she aimed a finger in his direction. “I did not grab your Johnson! I told you I was reaching for my clutch.”

  He shrugged, took a sip of whatever the hell he had in his scotch glass, and smirked. “Clutch, crotch, either way it still screams ‘foreplay’ to me.”

  “I wouldn’t brag. Whatever I felt down there was nowhere near as big as my tiny clutch.”

  “So you admit—”

  “Stop flirting, you two. I’m trying to sleep here,” Sean muttered from his sprawled position on the opposite sofa.

  Sidney shook her head, chuckling at both of them as she grabbed the cushion behind her and launched it at Mason’s sculpted jaw. He jerked back with a deep laugh, spilling his drink, even though her aim was off by a drunken mile.

  “Damn it. I’m sorry.” Alcohol stains on penthouse carpeting. Not good. “Do you have anything I can clean it up with?” Moving to her knees, she shuffled along the sofa seat and leaned across his body to check the damage over the side of the arm rest. Thank goodness, there were only a few dark-brown spots among the cream pile. Nothing major.

  It took a few seconds for relief to wash through her—then deathly silence reigned. Drums began to pound, and it wasn’t from Sean’s talented sticks. It thrummed inside her chest, thumping harder and harder the more she thought about her compromising position balanced over Mason’s lap.

  “Umm.” She bit her lower lip and chanced a glance his way. He was there. Right there. His dark gaze focused intently on her. He didn’t speak, didn’t move his arm from its resting place on the back of the sofa. He remained calm and cocky, setting her skin to flames one slow inch at a time.

  “Is it ‘go’ time?” Sean slurred, breaking the moment.

  Sidney held her breath, thankful for the pause in Mason’s potent stare as he frowned at the Reckless Beat drummer. This would be a good time to stop hovering over his dick.

  She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Not with the enticing smell of his heady aftershave filtering into her lungs.

  She raked her focus lower, her heart fluttering at the slight definition of his pecs through the thin material of his white dress shirt. She’d seen him in swim trunks before, when she’d stayed a week at his Richmond, Virginia mansion. Those seven days had been spent working on Reckless Beat’s latest album, hiding her over-stimulated hormones and clenching body parts under courteous manners and pleasant dinner conversation.

  His chest was sculpted from a sordid dream—defined, tanned, with broad shoulders to sweep her off her feet. She gave a quick shake of her head to throw away the image and leaned back. She hoped to rewind her movements along the sofa and pretend their close up moment didn’t happen.

  A strong hand pressed against the low of her spine, and she froze. “What do you say, kitten?” he murmured deep and seductive.

  She was eye level with the handsome devil. The heat from his palm penetrated her blood, setting her nerves on fire, drenching her core with sluttiness.

  “Excuse me?” She swallowed, certain her mind was misunderstanding the implication in his brown irises.

  His gaze bore into her, inquisitive, as if reading her thoughts. “Do you wanna have some fun?”

  ***

  MASON REMAINED STILL, not wanting to spook the enticing woman on his lap into running. Normally, he would’ve been more forward. Wanna take this to the bedroom? Wanna play around? Wanna fuck? But this was Sidney, the woman who helped him create one of the most intense albums on more international bestselling lists than he’d ever reached before. He looked up to her…he also looked down at her cleavage whenever the chance arose. He admired her talent. She was beautiful, smart, professional…damn it, he would use more ink writing a list than Blake, the Reckless bass guitarist, had covering his body. The woman was brilliant. He didn’t want to fuck their relationship up. He just wanted to fuck her
something crazy.

  She pushed back, hovering at an odd angle over him, and placed a hand beside his shoulder to balance herself. “What sort of fun?” she asked, her voice weak, the hesitation in her eyes shining bright.

  Christ. They really shouldn’t be doing this. Not with him and Sidney. Especially not with the eager third party now sitting up on the opposite sofa, poised and waiting on the edge of his seat for her answer.

  “Sean wants to know if you’d like to take this to the bedroom.”

  She blinked, once, twice, stunned into silence, and he couldn’t blame her. He sounded like a fucking fifth-grader. Hey, Sidney, Sean wants to know if you’ll blow me. Idiot. Where the hell was his confidence? Where the hell was the bravado that would’ve normally had him reaching for the woman’s hand and placing it on his half-hard cock.

  Her lips parted, and she glanced over her shoulder at Sean. “Both…of you?” she asked, turning to face him. “All of us…in the bedroom…together?” She swallowed again, and he couldn’t help grinning at her.

  “Yeah, kitten.” He reached up and ran a gentle finger along the delicate line of her jaw. “Just for a little fun.”

  She leaned back, sitting on her haunches, and glanced toward Sean again. “Really?”

  He grinned, ear to ear of bright white teeth. “Oh, yeah. It’ll be good, Sid. Promise.”

  When she turned to meet Mason’s gaze, the corner of her lips tilted. It was slight, the barest of curves, and the seductive edge had him clenching his teeth in anticipated pleasure. He wanted those lips. Everywhere. On his mouth. Along his neck. Stretched over his shaft.

  “Umm… OK,” she murmured. “Where do we start?”

  Sweet baby Jesus. This was his lucky night. After all the women he’d slept with, it took a lot to get his blood pulsing south. His veins currently buzzed with a tidal wave of adolescent hormones, all of them eagerly rushing to his dick.

  “In the bedroom,” Sean answered.

  From his periphery, Mason saw his friend stand, and still he couldn’t drag his focus away from Sidney’s eyes. She remained quiet, her sweet perfume like a drug to his already intoxicated senses. When she didn’t move for several long heartbeats, he thought she was going to change her mind. Then she leaned forward. Slow. Tentative. Stopping when their noses almost touched. Her gaze raked his face, reading him, testing him. Her tongue darted out to moisten her full lips, and he breathed her in, filling his lungs with everything that was the gorgeous Sidney Higgins.