Ireland

The next day I wake up missing him. We went to bed in separate rooms, both of us wanting to draw this out while fighting the urge to give in and sleep together. But I dreamed of him. I fell asleep fantasizing about his kisses and woke smelling his delicious scent. The sun is high in the sky and the automatic shades have rolled up. It must be late morning. Padding out to the kitchen I see he's already made coffee, a mug is set out for me with a little note next to it.

God, but he's perfect. I pour myself a cup of coffee and doctor it with cream and sugar, then make my way back to my room. I want to soak up the sun and enjoy some time poolside.

Slipping on tank top and shorts, I grab my phone and some flip-flops before I head outside. No good burning the soles of my feet on the hot concrete.

I cover myself in sunscreen and lie out on one of the chairs with my Kindle and a steamy romance novel to keep me company. It’s relaxing and wonderful and before I know it, a few hours have passed. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, knowing it's going to be Summer.

Okay, spill. You can't leave me a note and then vanish without expecting me to come calling.

I smile to myself, sitting on one of the chairs under an umbrella.

He's taken me away for a few days. I'm his muse.

Bullshit!

I'm serious.

Have you slept with him?

No.

What?

I said no.

Well, just be careful.

Dread curls in my stomach.

What do you mean?

It never works out for the muse.

I get what she's saying. I'm not an idiot. I know there's nothing beyond this for Easton and me. When I don't respond, she sends me another message.

I'm sure it'll be fine. Have fun with him. It's not every day you go on a getaway with a rock star.

I laugh despite the fear creeping in around my heart. It's only been four days and I already feel like I'll be losing him when this is over. That's exactly what I don't want. Nick swept me off my feet and then he crushed my heart. But Summer's right. I'm not going to marry Easton. I'm here to be his muse. He hasn't promised more than that. I should have fun, enjoy myself and chalk this up to an experience I'll look back on when I'm old and gray. But I can't have that if Easton isn't here with me.

I stand and head back to my room, grabbing my bag and pulling out my little red string bikini. After changing, I throw on my black crochet cover-up and pad through the house, peeking into the bedroom next to mine in hopes he'll be there. The room is empty, only his shoes on the floor telling me this is, in fact, where he'll be passing the nights.

The tile floor is cool on my bare feet, and as I go, I marvel at the modern decor. Everything is clean lines and neutral colors. It's peaceful in comparison to the insanity of a Vegas casino.

"Where are you, Easton?" I murmur to myself.

Farther down the hall I hear the gentle strum of a guitar and my heart leaps at the promise of seeing him. I round the corner and stop in the doorway of a room clearly meant for music. Guitars line the walls and a piano sits tucked in the corner. Easton looks completely at home here, feet bare, hair falling into his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. I lean against the doorframe, heart in my throat as I watch him work. After every few strums of the strings, he stops and writes something down in his notebook, then returns to his composing. It's magic.

The song is beautiful, but when he starts from the beginning and his lyrics rise over the chords, I have goose bumps. His voice brushes over me like velvet across my skin as he sings. I could stay here forever. But I'm so wrapped up in his song I don't realize he's noticed me until our eyes lock. My breath catches, and a smile turns up my lips as he stops strumming and rests his arm across the top of his guitar.

"Sounds good," I say, forcing the words through my tight throat.

"Thank you." His answering grin has my heart fluttering. "It's because of you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You don't have to. This is exactly why I wanted you with me. I'm inspired by your energy."

I fidget with the holes in my cover-up, poking my fingers through the crochet design. His heavy gaze on me is making my skin heat.

"Going for a swim?" he asks, his voice rough.

"I was thinking about it. I came to see if you wanted to join me, but you're working, so..."

He sets his guitar in a stand and rises. "I'm done." He doesn't even try to hide his happiness at my invitation.

As he strides across the room, I stand up straighter, conscious of his gaze on my form. He runs his finger over the hem of my cover-up and gives it a playful tug. "What's the point of this? I can see right through it."

A laugh escapes me. "It's to give the illusion of clothes."

"Illusion. Hmm, that's one word you could use."

"What would you use?"

"Tease. It's definitely a tease."

I take his hand and pull it up until the tips of his fingers are at my lips. Pressing soft kisses to his fingertips, I watch his eyes go dark with lust. "I know you don't think I'm a whore but I also know this can't go anywhere. Let's just have fun with what time we've got."

His jaw tightens but he takes a deep breath and nods. "Fine. Let's have fun." He threads our fingers together and that familiar buzz of connection hums between us.

We walk together, hands linked, silent. His calloused fingers tickle the inside of my wrist when we reach his room. "Give me a minute to change."

The thought of him changing clothes with me separated by only a wall makes something tighten low in my belly. I nod and wait for him to leave me, but he doesn't.

"Are you going to change?" I ask.

"If you let me go."

What is he talking about? But then I look down at our hands. Fingers still linked, mine gripping his tightly. "Oh," I say, releasing him and stepping back. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize for touching me."

"I'll just... meet you at the pool." I back up and head into my own room, needing a minute to remind my stupid heart that he's not here for forever. Easton is a passing fancy. He'll roll through my life and I'll help him write his album. I need to stop letting myself fantasize about keeping him. That's what got me hurt with Nick.

It takes Easton less than two minutes to change and when he emerges, stepping onto the patio like a freaking GQ model in his navy swim trunks that hang low on his hips, I have to swallow past the lump in my throat. I knew he had a great body under those clothes. I'd felt the muscles under his shirt yesterday. I didn't expect the six-pack, the tattoos, or a nipple piercing. The man is pure sex.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." His amused tone makes me smile.

"Using my words against me?"

"Absolutely."

He dives into the pool, the water rippling as I watch his figure swim under the surface. When his head breaches the surface, he grins and says, "Come on. I'm waiting."

I grab the hem of my cover-up and pull it over my head, baring my toned body to him. It's obvious he likes what he sees from the low, "Fuck me," that falls from his lips.

I don't dive straight into the blue water. Instead, I ease myself down, letting my body adjust to the temperature change. My nipples harden from a combination of lust and the cold. At first, I think maybe he hasn't noticed, but when his hands encircle my bare waist, he leans in and nuzzles my neck.

"Cold?" he asks.

"A little."

He helps me down until I'm standing on the bottom of the pool, water up to the tops of my breasts. "You're the most stunning woman I've ever known."

My chest tightens and belly flips. This man has dated supermodels and he thinks I'm the most stunning? I can't wrap my brain around that one. "You're charming," I say, splashing him.

He laughs and splashes me back, making me squeal when the cold water hits the parts of me that haven't gone under yet. We laugh and play in the water together, the sun low in the sky and nothing else to worry about. It's freeing and wonderful. An hour later, we're both floating in the water, staring at the cloudless sky as it turns the purple only a Nevada sunset can offer.

"Did you always want to be famous?" I ask.

"No. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was a kid. Like my cousin."

The idea of him rushing into a burning building to save people sends a wave of desire through me. "Really? I could see you doing that. You'd look hot in turnout gear."

"How do you know what they wear?"

I laugh. "I watch TV."

"Oh, good. I thought maybe you'd dated a firefighter."

"Nope. I haven't dated in a really long time."

I hear the water ripple as he changes positions and I stand to see what he's doing. He assesses me, dark eyes raking my form. "How in the world has that been possible?"

"Well, I actively choose not to date."

He brushes my hair away from my face and steps close. "Until now."

We're not dating. I want to scream it at him. He can't act like I'm his when he knows this isn't going anywhere. "Easton," I whisper.

"Don't talk. Just let me kiss you. I'm addicted to the taste of your lips."

I moan against his mouth the instant it touches mine. He wraps me in his arms, the warmth of his body a contrast to the water around us. All I want is to be close to him. The steel ridge of his erection presses against my belly, a promise of more to come. I glide my hands down his chest and over the planes of his abs until I find my goal. He's long and thick and I'm ready to have him.

He groans when I slip my fingers under the waistband of his swim trunks and grip him. His fingers trail across my shoulders and he pulls on the strings holding up my bikini top. The red fabric falls free, baring my breasts and I shiver when my hard nipples brush against his chest.

When he breaks our kiss, I almost whine, but his big hands encircle my waist and lift me until I wrap my legs around his hips. I close my eyes and rock my hips, my clit rubbing the hard length of him through our bathing suits. Warm lips close around my nipple, sending shockwaves of need straight to my core.

"Oh, God," I cry, squirming in his hold.

He sucks harder, biting just enough to bring another moan from me. I need him inside me almost more than I need my next breath. I reach down and untie both sides of my bikini bottoms before I go to work on his suit. He releases my breast and groans when I free him and line his blunt head up with my slick and ready folds.

He's there, pressing inside, just the tip and it already feels so damn good. I want all of him. Right now.

"Easton, don't tease." Instead of sheathing himself fully, he pulls away, righting his swim trunks before scooping me into his arms. He walks us to the stairs and we leave the water, me with my bikini top hanging off me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not fucking you for the first time in a pool. You'll be under me, on a bed so I can watch your face when I make you come."

I'm not going to argue with that.