When I’ve licked every drop of goodness off Lucas’s stomach, he grabs my hair and guides my face to within an inch of his. But before my lips meet their target, Lucas stops and holds me firm, his chest heaving, our eyes locked.

“Assassin,” he whispers, his eyes burning.

I’m panting. Wet and swollen. Aching. Now that the drug of him has infiltrated my blood stream, I want more. I want all of him.

His hand still buried in my hair, Lucas beams an amused smile at me that tells me he can see right through me. He knows what I am.

Lucas stands, guiding me up by my hair as he goes. When we’re both standing, our bodies mere inches apart, he grips my hair extra hard and leans forward. I close my eyes, anticipating the thrill of finally getting to feel his luscious lips on mine, but much to my disappointment, he doesn’t kiss me. He releases his brutal grip on me and begins stroking my hair from root to end. “I’ve got a proposition for you, dirty girl,” he whispers, still stroking my hair. “Something I want you to do for me.”

I open my eyes, quivering with desire, the taste of him still on my tongue. Whatever self-respect I managed to tap into the other night when I told him off for acting like an asshole is long gone now. I want him however I can get him. Even if I have to grovel.

Lucas smiles like he’s deeply amused by something he sees in my face. “Come have a drink with me in the other room and I’ll explain what I want from you.” He releases me and motions politely toward the living room as if he’s just asked me to join him for a spot of tea and crumpets.

I take a deep breath and walk on wobbly legs into the sitting area, my entire body trembling.

“Have a seat,” he says, heading toward the bar on the other side of the room.

I sit on the couch.

“Beer? Whiskey?” he asks.

I bite my lip. Drinking alcohol on the job is a terminable offense. But hey, I’ve got to assume licking a guest’s semen off his abs is equally prohibited. “Whiskey,” I reply.

“A girl after my own heart.” He pours two whiskeys, hands me one, and settles himself onto the opposite end of the couch. Too far away for our legs to touch, I notice.

I take a long sip of my drink, shuddering as the burning liquid goes down. “So what’s your proposition?” I ask. “You’ve got my undivided attention.”

“And you’ve got mine,” he replies.

I bite my lip.

Lucas sips his whiskey, staring me down with burning eyes. “I want you to be my muse this week.”

“Your muse?” I ask.

He nods.

“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

Lucas smiles. “Maybe I should give you a little background information.” He sips his whiskey again, apparently gathering his thoughts. “As I mentioned,” he says, “my label owns me for four albums, thanks to the shitty-ass deal I signed as a puppy, and I’ve still got one more album to go before I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want. Unfortunately, my label and I have been fighting for quite some time about the direction of my last album and it’s now clear to me there’s only one way out of my indentured servitude. I’ve got to write an album’s worth of songs the cocksuckers will approve, including the one song they’re demanding above all others. A certain leadoff single they’re forcing me to write. If I don’t give ’em that one particular song, they’ve said they’re fully prepared to hold the entire album hostage for however long it takes, no matter what other awesome songs I might write for it.”

“What’s the leadoff single they want?” I ask.

“Another ‘Shattered Hearts.’ Something that hits all the same emotional themes and chords.”

I furrow my brow. “But that song was one of a kind. That’s why everyone loves it so much.”

“Try telling that to the cocksuckers. They’re not songwriters. They’re bean counters. And greedy bastards. And that’s what they say I need to give them to release my fourth album and set me free from my contractual obligations.”

“But what about ‘Assassin’?” I ask. “Can’t that one be the leadoff single? It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s a great song, for sure, and it’ll definitely go on the album. The cocksuckers already approved it, thank God. But no matter how great ‘Assassin’ is, it’s not the leadoff single they want. They want another ‘Shattered Hearts’ and nothing else will do.” His eyes blaze with barely contained fury. “What they don’t get is that I’m not being a dick about not writing a song like that. I literally can’t do it. How could I? A guy’s got to be able to feel something to write a brutal song like that, and I haven’t felt an actual emotion in five fucking years.” His eyes light up. “That is, until a certain ass-kicker chewed me out, and I discovered I just might have a few embers burning deep inside me, after all.”

“But all I did was tell you to go fuck yourself. Obviously, ‘Assassin’ was inside you all along, just waiting to pop out.”

“Yeah, it was there, for sure. But I couldn’t access it. I couldn’t feel it until you came along and lit my fuse. Abby, I haven’t felt creatively inspired like that in years, and now that I’ve remembered what it feels like, I feel addicted. I want more.”

My mind is reeling. “But what exactly are you asking me to do this week? Fuck you…or call you an asshole and stomp out?”

Lucas smiles like a shark. “All of the above.”

I make a face that tells him I’m completely lost.

Lucas sighs. “I want to do an extended role-play with you, Abby. I want to recreate what happened between Cole, Winnie, and me ten years ago. But on a vastly condensed timeline and all of it right here in this suite.”

I stare at him blankly, still not understanding.

“We’re going to role-play having an illicit love affair behind my best friend’s back,” Lucas explains. “And then, at the end of our love affair, you’re gonna break my heart.”

My mind is racing. “You’re asking me to role-play…being Winnie?”

“No. We’ll be ourselves, but in an agreed-upon make-believe scenario. I truly believe if we act out the scenario I have in mind, and we don’t break character the whole time and really immerse ourselves in the fantasy, I’ll start to feel all the right emotions—albeit in simulation—and ultimately feel inspired to write the required song. I mean, shit, I wrote ‘Assassin’ about you without knowing or loving you and anyone hearing it would swear I wrote it for a girl I’m head over heels in love with. So I figure, ‘Why not use the same strategy to write ‘Shattered Hearts’ two point oh?’”

“But here’s what I don’t understand,” I say. “If I’m your ‘Winnie,’ and you’re our Lucas, then who’d be our ‘Cole’?”

Lucas grins. “My best friend, Camden. My drummer since Cole left the band.”

My stomach seizes. “So Camden and I would…?”

“You and Camden would role-play being in love, exactly the way Cole and Winnie were, and I’d watch and secretly covet you.”

I swallow hard, suddenly quite certain where this thing is headed. “You’re asking me to make out with Camden in front of you?”

“Not quite. I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m a grown-ass man who’s been around the block a time or two. I don’t think you and Camden getting handsy and kissing in front of me will get me where I need to go.” He smiles wickedly. “So I’m asking you to fuck Camden. And to let me watch.”

My mouth hangs open. Oh my God.

Lucas takes a languid sip of his whiskey, his eyes smoldering. “I’ll watch and covet and ultimately break down and claim you for myself behind Camden’s back. And after a few days of us covertly getting together, you’ll shatter my heart by telling me you’ve realized you don’t love me after all.”

To my shame, warmth oozes between my legs at the very idea of what he’s suggesting. Holy hell, this is depraved. And hot as hell. “This is crazy,” I say, despite the excitement coursing through my veins. “What normal woman would say yes to this?”

“A normal woman probably wouldn’t say yes,” Lucas concedes. “But you’re not a normal woman, are you, Assassin? In fact, I’d bet just about anything my proposition is turning you on like crazy right now.”

I stare at him for a long beat, my crotch swelling with blood. How the hell does he know that about me? “But,” I sputter, “I’ve never even met Camden. I can’t possibly agree to have sex with some random guy.”

Lucas cocks his head slightly, his eyes burning. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Abby. I’ve got to be at a show in LA in six days and I’ve agreed to write this damned song before I leave. We both know this idea is making you wet. I can see it all over your pretty little face. And even more than that, I can smell it on you. I bet if I reached into your panties right now my fingers would come out soaking wet.”

I press my lips together. He’s right, of course. I’m soaking wet. But still, I’m not sure I’m ready to say yes to this extended role-play idea of his, no matter how hot it makes me. Sure, it sounds like kinky fun, but what would be the consequences for me when it’s over? I’ve worked hard to avoid triggers and keep myself on track these past five years. Will letting myself run amok in the way Lucas is suggesting lead to me falling off the wagon completely when the fantasy is over? Or will I be able to revert to my well-ordered, disciplined life again like nothing ever happened?

“Don’t worry, Camden is fuckable,” Lucas says, obviously misreading the source of my apprehension. “If I swung that way, I’d fuck him myself.” He grabs his phone off the coffee table and swipes briefly. “See for yourself. Camden Donnelly.”

I take the phone from Lucas and watch a short video of Camden playing drums, and quickly surmise he’s right. Yes, Camden is highly fuckable. He’s in his late twenties or early thirties, I’d guess, with strawberry-blond hair, facial hair, lean muscles, and tattoos. And man, can that dude play the drums like a freaking badass. Yeah, based on this video, it seems sex with Camden would turn out to be an extremely pleasurable physical experience, indeed. I hand Lucas back his phone, my crotch pulsing. “Camden’s fuckable,” I agree. “But even if I were to say yes to this exercise in depravity, why on earth would Camden say yes to it?”

“Well, first off, I’m not asking Camden to paint my house. I’m asking him to have sex with a pretty girl. Not a hardship.”

My heart skips a beat at Lucas’s use of the word “pretty” to describe me.

“But on top of that,” Lucas continues, “Cam’s got a vested interest in freeing me from my label. He knows the first thing I’m gonna do when I’m free is release an album with my band, not as ‘Lucas Ford.’ Cam’s already written a couple of badass songs for the album. Plus, regardless of his self-interest, I’m sure Camden would do it simply as my friend, especially after what I did for his girlfriend.”

My skin pricks. Is he implying…?

“Yeah,” Lucas says, nodding. “Cam’s girlfriend is the blonde I fucked in the sex tape.”

I bolt up from the couch, suddenly too shocked to sit. “Camden’s got a girlfriend?”

“Abby, sit down,” Lucas says breezily. “False outrage isn’t a good look on you, babe. We both know you’re gonna do this. I’m getting really tired of the song and dance.”

I sit. “I’m not faking outrage here. I’m genuinely shocked you’re asking me to screw another man at all, let alone a guy with a girlfriend. Do you guys make a habit of swapping women?”

“No. This will be a first.”

I rub my forehead. “Well, is Camden’s girlfriend going to burst in here while he and I are in the middle of screwing and hurl a knife into my back?”

“Of course, not. Cam’s girlfriend is the one who begged Camden to ask me to do the sex tape with her in the first place. She begged him to ask me.” He scoffs. “Clearly, that woman’s got an opportunistic attitude about monogamy. She’ll be fine with this.”

My mind is racing. This is crazy.

“Come on, Abby,” Lucas says. “I promise you’ll have fun. I’m told Camden’s a real beast in the sack. Right before I fucked his girlfriend, she said to me, ‘You better bring your A game, Luke. I’m spoiled these days by how well Cammy fucks me.’ So it sounds like you’re definitely in for a treat.”

I feel like a deer in headlights. My brain knows I should be appalled by this indecent proposal, but my body can’t seem to feel anything but exhilaration. If only I knew for sure this little game wouldn’t cause my old tendencies to bubble up and consume me again, it’d be a no-brainer to say yes.

“Are you on the pill?” Lucas asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Uh. Yes.”

“And you’re clean?”

I nod. “I haven’t had sex in quite some time and when I do, I use condoms.”

“Cool. We’ll use condoms, but still, it’s good to know these things.”

“You and Camden are both clean?”

Lucas nods. “Before I agreed to fuck his girlfriend for the world to see, Cam assured me they were both clean and exclusive—other than me fucking her, obviously—and I get checked regularly and always use condoms.”

I scoff. “You don’t ‘always’ use condoms. You didn’t use one with the blonde.”

“That was a special circumstance. We had to give everyone an extra-hot show.” He shoots me a cocky grin. “But still, I was careful. Since I was riding bareback, I followed my rule and didn’t come inside her.”

“Your rule?”

“I don’t come inside a woman without a condom. Ever. No exceptions.”

“What if you’re in a committed relationship and she’s on the pill?”

“Well, first off, I’m never in a ‘committed relationship.’ And, regardless, even if I were convinced I was deeply in love with the best girl ever, she could swear on her life she’s on the pill, and I wouldn’t believe her as far as I could throw her.”

“Jeez. No wonder you don’t have any committed relationships. It’s hard to do if you’re not capable of trust.”

Lucas waves dismissively. “Try being me for ten years and see how many women you trust to have taken a little pill just because they said they did.” He clenches his jaw. “Everyone wants a piece of me. It’s just the way it is.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Lucas scoffs. “Sure, you do. I’m the guy whose face used to hang on your bedroom wall when you were fifteen. Getting to fuck me is gonna be the fulfillment of your teenage fantasy.” He shrugs. “People tell me all the time I’m their ‘desert island’ pick or whatever. Some sort of bucket-list item. I’m just saying I don’t expect you to be any different than anyone else.”

I stand. “You’re wrong about me. Completely wrong. I want nothing. You’re the one asking me to be your muse, not the other way around. So if you’re going to ask me to do this thing for you and then hold it against me if I do it, then let’s forget the whole thing.”

Lucas’s face lights up. “Now see? That’s what I’m talking about! That’s my little ass-kicking muse right there.”

I cross my arms over my chest, not sure if he’s making fun of me or not.

“Sit down and cool your jets, Assassin. You’re getting worked up for no reason.”

I sit back down, pressing my lips firmly together.

“I was simply trying to explain what ten years of being ‘Lucas Ford’ gets a guy, okay? I’m just saying complete trust is impossible for me to achieve, at least with women. They’ve always got some sort of ulterior motive when it comes to me. Something they want. It’s just the way it is and always will be.”

“I refuse to believe every woman on planet Earth is looking to exploit you. If that’s been your experience with women since you became famous, then you must not be looking in the right places for love.”

Lucas shakes his head.

“Well, what about having a relationship with someone who’s famous?” I ask. “Then you wouldn’t be worried she’s a gold digger or using you to get ahead.”

Lucas swats at the air like I’ve said something patently ridiculous. “Actresses and singers are the worst. Famewhores like Camden’s girl. All of ’em. Been there, done that. Plus, as a practical matter, being with someone else famous doubles the paparazzi waiting for me outside restaurants, and I fucking hate that shit.”

“But I’ve seen countless photos of you with models and actresses over the years.”

“Whatever you’ve seen is old. I haven’t hooked up with someone like that in years, unless it was a one-night thing after a party or awards show, or a fauxmance set up by our publicists.” He takes a long sip of his drink. “So what about you? How’s the search for love for a civilian in the Age of Tinder?”

“The same as it is for you. I don’t date celebrities because it doubles the paparazzi waiting for me outside restaurants.”

He laughs.

“I’m not kidding,” I say. “The minute I see paparazzi coming at me, I bolt in the other direction.”

We share a smile.

“Seriously, though,” he says. “How’s the search for love and trust working out for a normal girl like you?”

“Not very well, honestly. About as well as it’s going for you.”

“Why? You’re pretty, smart, semi-funny-ish. And you get angry in a flash, which is hella sexy. Just let your freak flag fly the way you’ve been doing with me and you’ll have your pick of guys.”

“Well, thanks for all those backhanded compliments. What girl doesn’t want to be called semi-funny-ish? But, trust me, the way I’m behaving with you would be impossible to duplicate in the real world.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “Just trust me. For reasons I don’t care to talk about, this ‘hella sexy’ and ‘semi-funny-ish’ version of me you’ve got the good fortune of experiencing needs to stay firmly bottled up.”

Lucas looks at me sideways, like he’s trying to figure me out. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before, Abby.”

“That’s so weird because I meet people like you every day of my life, Lucas Ford.”

He laughs.

“So, come on, Rock Star,” I say. “Let’s figure out this Cole-Winnie-Lucas debacle, because I’m a working girl and I’ve got to get back to the front desk before I’m missed.”