It was still dark when I woke. That was the thing about winter I hated the most—the dark sunrise and the cold as fuck air that accompanied it.

Juniper’s body was warm against mine, and the curve of her arse nestled against my cock, which was already stiff with some epic morning wood.

I breathed in the scent of sex, sweat, and the citrusy perfume that usually clung to her skin, and felt the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders.

I’d had the most intense sex of my fucking life last night. Four times in a fucking row.

I’d never shared such raw need with someone before. The feel of her body underneath mine, the taste of her arousal on my tongue, her lips around my cock, her panting moans, her unbearable orgasms—it was all etched in my mind forever. One taste and I was addicted.

I wanted her again.

And again.

And again.

I rubbed my eyes, the air icy against my warm skin. There must be frost outside. A gas heater was set against the wall, so I slipped out of bed and flicked the button, the ignition clicking as it lit the gas. Holding the button down as the unit warmed, I shivered, the cold air raising goosebumps over my bare arse cheeks.

“Hey.”

I turned at the sound of Juniper’s sleepy voice, grinning when her gaze lowered to my cock. It twitched on cue and she buried her face under the covers, leaving one eye free to peek.

“I thought you’d be cold,” I said, completely unashamed by the fact I was sporting an erection. I eased my finger off the button and allowed the heater to do its thing.

“It’s warm in here,” she said, her voice muffled by the blanket.

Climbing back into bed, I captured her with a kiss, my cock grinding against her thigh. Juniper sighed, her palms caressing my back as her nails dragged along my flesh.

I sucked a hard nipple into my mouth and teased, pushing her legs open.

“You’re wet again,” I murmured, my lips brushing along the curve of her breast.

“You’re hard again,” she breathed.

Fisting my cock, I stroked along her seam, teasing as my free hand fumbled for another condom. I sheathed myself with expert precision, and paused just long enough to breathe her in.

I could fuck Juniper Rowe all day and night. I could fuck her so hard that nothing else mattered.

Anchoring myself over her, I thrust deep, my cock gliding through her slickness. Her back arched off the mattress and she cried out in pleasure, the gasp making my balls tense.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” I whispered into her ear.

She opened her legs farther, allowing me to bury deeper still, and the moment she took all of me, her body quivered. Shit, she was a siren. A fucking goddess. She didn’t put on a performance; she just lost herself in the moment, letting her body respond to mine, telling me what she liked without the over the top commentary so many women thought men needed to get off.

I pulled back and thrust into her again, my hand curling into her hair. My mouth found hers and we kissed amongst heavy breaths as I pounded my cock into her slickness. All too soon she was clenching my dick, coming so hard a strangled cry tore from her lips.

My cock flared and my release burst from my tip, my hips jerking as I lost myself to the climax. My breath was hot against her neck as I licked a path along her skin, the salt of her sweat tangy on my tongue.

Her body trembled then began to relax as the last of her orgasm faded, and I left my cock inside her, relishing the feel of us joined together. I loved to put my dick in a lot of pussy—a lot of arse and lips too—but right now, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be with another women. All I saw was her.

Juniper.

Finally, I pulled out and settled beside her, my arms wrapping around her slim frame.

I should be fucking terrified, but I wasn’t. I was... content. The rest of the world had fallen away, and it was just me and her and this place. The stadiums, the meet and greets, the photoshoots, and interviews were a world away, almost like they’d happened to someone else.

Outside, the sky was finally coming alive with the fire of a spectacular sunrise.

“Do you want to hear some of our new songs?” I asked.

She blinked, her long lashes brushing against her flushed cheeks.

“You can say no,” I whispered.

“Yes,” she said, raising her head from the pillow, “I’ll listen to them.”

Grinning like a bloody school boy, I leaned over the edge of the bed and found my jeans. My phone was still in the pocket, and suddenly I was glad I’d decided to rejoin the world in some small way.

I’d gone to the next town over and got the latest iPhone straight off the shelf, no ID required. There was no SIM card in it, but people didn’t seem to need a phone number to get in contact these days—WiFi was all it took. The moment I signed into my online accounts, a barrage of messages had downloaded and almost crashed the fucking thing.

Juniper sat, wrapping herself in a blanket, and picked up a pair of headphones, plugging the cord into my phone. They were the kind that went over her ears and canceled out background noise, which were the perfect kind to listen to music in my opinion. I pulled up the songs—a rough cut of the album that’d just finished being mastered the day I took off—and with a shaking finger, pressed play.

Fuck, I was nervous. I’d never given a shit what people thought about our music before. Fans, reviewers, friends, the record label, they could all go jump for all I cared, but this woman in bed next to me? What she thought mattered to me.

Juniper was naked, the sheet wrapped loosely over her shoulders, and her slender hand held the headphones over her ears. I watched her, transfixed, as her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. Her head swayed softly from side to side and I edged closer.

Fuck, my dick was hard again.

Finally, she opened her eyes, folded her arms on her knees, and rested her head in the nook of her elbow, but she wasn’t done listening yet. The next track played while she drank me in with her emerald eyes.

My gut twisted and I rubbed my palm up and down her back. She hid her smile and pressed pause, taking off the headphones. Then she made a show of wrapping up the cord and setting my phone down on the bed.

“So?” I asked, desperate for her approval.

Juniper tossed the headphones onto the floor. Snaking her arms around my neck, her fingers threaded through the hair at my nape and tugged.

“Who writes the songs?” she asked.

“Huh?” I blinked, dazed by her closeness.

“Who writes them?”

“We all do,” I replied. “I write the lyrics and we all work on the music.”

“Those words are yours?”

I nodded, tugging her into my lap. The sheet twisted between us, cock blocking me from sliding inside her again.

“I see it now. I couldn’t before.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I listened to your music the other week, I was seeing the product. The performance. Don’t get me wrong, it was hot, and I really like your stuff. I can’t believe I didn’t know it before.” She hadn’t even taken a breath. “I can see why you’re so popular—”

I ran my fingers over her lips. “And now?”

“It’s not the music that’s the problem,” she said her eyes locking with mine. “You love it. It’s in your soul.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“The connection between the music and everything else,” she began. “A link is missing.”

I stared at her, spiralling deeper into this reckless desire we shared.

“Will you help me find it?” I asked cupping her cheek. “Will you?”

“Yeah,” she said, her thumb caressing the tear that’d unknowingly escaped my eye. “I...” She let the words die on her tongue and I raked my fingers through her silky hair.

Shit, she was waiting for the moment I dumped her off my lap, walked out the door, and never came back. That was my reputation—fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. One night only, no second chances, no forevers. The only person who’d come close was Mallory and that relationship was fake as fuck.

Juniper was different. She was the light in my otherwise dark world. She’d pulled me up when everyone else was content to let me drown, but it was more than that. Much more.

“This is different,” I murmured. “You’re different.”

“Am I? Am I really?”

Yeah, she was. She was in me now. Her mark was on my soul.

“You’re stuck with me, Juniper Rowe,” I whispered. “Whatever happens next... well, fuck ‘em.”

Two days later, when I finally tore myself out of her arms and went back to the beach house, I was surprised to see a car parked on the bluff, half a kilometre from the front gate.

I’d left Juniper to open her shop while I finally went to find a change of clothes and shave the sandpaper off my face. Her words, not mine. I was in two minds about letting the stubble grow into a beard.

It was shocking how easy things were between us. I wanted to be with her and it was screwing with everything I knew about life. Fake had become so real that when real life had finally started calling, I was fucking questioning it.

Juniper terrified me as much as she enamoured.

I pulled my car off to the side of the road and let the engine run, watching the slate grey sedan ahead. My body still hummed with the aftershocks of my monumental sex-a-thon and I rubbed my cock as I spied a figure moving along the cliffside.

A figure with a fucking telephoto lens.