J elly legs. That’s what I’d felt, stretching my arms and humming at the satisfying tingle that moved over my skin. I’d seriously have to make a habit of getting massages. Or get a job at a hotel just to use their spa. This hotel was one of the nicest we’d stayed in with marble covering the floors and walls, and massive wooden columns that separated the front desk and luxury lobby. There was a five-star bar at the front of the entrance, a gym in the back, three restaurants and a spa. Even the hallways were opulent; plush rugs running from the elevators to the rooms and thicker versions of them inside each room, set around the walkway and living areas. Dash was in the deluxe luxury suite on the top floor and I smiled as I walked closer to his room .

Unlike the other places we’d stayed in, Jose stood guard, watching the hallways, hands folded together looking dangerous in his black suit and all those visible tattoos painted over his skin like graffiti. But he had a nice smile, pretty, straight, white teeth that he rarely flashed unless he was around Isaiah or there was a thick steak in front of him .

“Hola, cariño,” he greeted, waiting for me to stop at the door. “Nice time at the spa ?”

“Spectacular,” I told Jamie’s uncle, unable to keep the wide smile off my lips .

“Bueno ,” Jose said, opening the door for me .

The room was quiet when I entered, which generally not the case. During the entire tour, any time I met Jamie in his room, there seemed to be some sort of activity. We did have a quiet area to ourselves, but in the background, there was always Landon or one of his staff on the phone, communicating with whoever handled the crew needs or some of band, going over the set lists or additions to the show. Occasionally, Blake, Jamie’s tour manager would show up, when his own busy schedule didn’t require him to stay behind the curtains. Now though, there was no noise at all; no people except for that beautiful shirtless man who stood in front of the wall of windows overlooking Indianapolis .

I stopped in the entrance to the living room, just watching him, marveling at his wide shoulders and the perfect skin. Jamie had no tattoos, a rarity for most musicians, hell, most people our age and it made him seem unique. His skin was dark and smooth, like warm apple cider and my fingers itched to touch him again, to feel him against me, that beautiful skin hot, sweaty as he loomed over me .

“Hey,” I called, my stomach tightening as he smiled, glancing over his shoulder at me .

“Florecita .” He spoke that pet name like a statement, not something he questioned; it sounded like a song those three syllables. “Good massage?” he asked, nodding me over .

“The best,” I said, coming to lean against his chest when he opened his arms, hanging onto his waist. I wanted to stay there, smelling the sweetness of his skin, placing open-mouth kisses against that hard muscle, but knew it was impossible. There was a show to prepare for and Jamie likely didn’t have time for any lazy touches .

He’d been quite on the ride back to Indy and I’d given fleeting thought about him making excuses, maybe thinking that one night with me had been one too many. But he stood there now holding me, arms wrapped around my back and a deep inhale moving his chest .

“Thank you for suggesting it,” I told him, lifting my head to look at him .

“I had ulterior motives,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I wanted you relaxed .”

“Oh?”

He stepped back, a relaxed, sexy smile on his face. Jamie nodded toward the bedroom and my stomach twisted with excitement. That smile grin when I purred, and he led me away from that wall of glass .

The bed was massive with nearly an entire wall of leather panels for a headboard and rich wood cabinets at the sides. Jamie had pulled down the duvet and a bottle of champagne chilled on the bedside table. I turned, eyebrows lifted, impressed .

“Nice,” I told him, returning the please smile he gave me .

He poured two glasses and handed me one, eyes dark, attentive on my face as he drank. The bubbles tickled against my tongue, and I set the glass down, wanting something else there. When I waggled my finger, silently telling Jamie to come to me, his cocky grin returned, and he stood in front of me, nipping the tip of my finger .

“My turn,” he said, moving his chin to look down at me. “That okay?” I nodded, humming when he grabbed my waist. “I wanna play ,” he said, and my pussy pulsed .

“Which one?” My words were a little breathless .

Jamie gripped my arms, licking his lips as he moved his gaze over my body. “You don’t like me but still want to fuck .”

We’d played games before, and they’d always been fun. As kids, we’d imagine scenarios that made our lovemaking exciting—the innocent honor student studying hard when the bad boy musician interrupts her reading; the strangers in an elevator totally addicted to each other after only one look; and my personal favorite, hard to get. I’d pretend I wasn’t interested until he’d somehow convinced me then proceeded to go utterly alpha male on me, directing, bossing, telling me what he wanted all while I pretended to hate him .

I didn’t hesitate. “You need to get out of my room. You had your chance and fucked up. I don’t do musicians anymore .”

He managed a smile, slow, teasing and completely pleased. “Let me remind you why you wanted me in the first place. You’ll like what I can do to you now." He took my face, licking across my lips. "Promise.” He grabbed the back of my neck to pull my mouth against his. I couldn’t help the response—a little groan that was more pleasure than mock irritation and then a gasp when Jamie lowered us to the bed, hand on my ass .

“You want this dirty pendejo to fuck you, don’t you?” When I pretended to yawn, Jamie grabbed my wrists, holding them together above my head. “You bored, chica ?” He licked down my neck, pulling the skin at the side against his teeth. “I can give you a little spice.” Jamie lifted above me, still holding my hands as he popped open my shirt to get at my breast. He yanked down my bra, sucking a nipple into his mouth and I cried out, arching to bring my tit closer to his teeth .

“Ah…I…yes …”

“Oh, so now she likes me.” Jamie moved his hand, still sucking my nipple between his lips. “Does this bore you?” He slipped his fingers down my torso, to my hip, slowing down the zipper before he cupped me. He didn’t wait, didn’t take his time to get me ready. Jamie just slid two fingers inside my pussy, going straight to my G-spot, using the friction from his movement and the suction on my tit to send me into a frenzy .

“Oh God…God!” I cried, and he went on laughing against my skin as I came, flooding my jeans and the bed .

Jamie stripped me naked, tugging me around so that I was spread out in front of him, our bodies a horizontal tangle on the bed. He went at my breast again, rubbing a line from my wet pussy up my stomach, to the curve of my breast. “Still hate me, chica ? Still hate the dirty musician who’s making your sheets filthy ?”

“Yes,” I panted, groaning as his nipped the inside of my thigh. The game continued, and my body responded, wanting more, wanting Jamie to want that too .

Jamie growled, a pleased, sexy sound, when I turned my head as he bent to take my lips, jerking me closer with a grip to my hips .

“Tell yourself you hate me. Tell yourself that there is nothing I say or do that will ever make you love me again. But I’ll never believe you don’t want me. I’ll never believe all this heat isn’t for me .”

“It’s not .”

He laughed, drawing a line down my naked body with his tongue, smiling when I moaned. “Liar .”

Then Jamie pushed my face to the side, holding me still as he withdrew his dick, rubbing the head over my pussy, teasing the entire length between my lips over and over until he was wet, until I panted and clawed at the sheets above my head. “You feel that? Feel how hard you make me ?”

I held his arm, pulling his hand closer, likely the pressure of his palm on my face. “Don’t you fuck me, you filthy asshole. You’ll make me dirty .”

“Ah, you’re dirty, chica and you like it, don’t you? You like this…” He pulled back, releasing my face to spread my legs wide and slid his hard, pulsing cock deep inside me. “Tell me you don’t like this.” He held up my leg, flinging it over his shoulder to drive in harder, fill me completely. “Tell me you don’t want to come all over my cock .”

“I…I don’t…” I lied, breathless, close already to the edge, fingernails down his chest, wanting him closer, wanting his mouth on mine. “Jamie …”

He growled again, twisting us around so that I was on top and he held my hips, rocking above him, feeling tight and tender and so fucking wet. “Faster, chica ,” he demanded, fingers curling into my ass. “Si …just like that. Bueno, asi mismo. Fuck. Ah…yes,” he cried as I tightened around him. His voice lowered to a whisper, sounding gruff and so damn hot .

“Tu eres muy sexy .”

Then Jamie put his feet flat on the bed and moved his hips, a thundering movement to meet me as I continued to ride him. Hand around my breast once more, Jamie shouted, head roaring back as the same time I climaxed, body overwhelmed by sensation and I crashed, lowering over him, his loud cries echoing in the room as I curled against his chest, eyes closed. “I love you,” I whispered not caring that he probably had heard me. Not caring about anything but the spin of my orbit and how Jamie Vega was once again the center of it .