Owen

I’m going to hell.

I didn’t bring her here for this. Didn’t mean to kiss her. To touch her. But now that I am, I can’t stop. My mouth travels down the curve of her jaw, along her slender neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

I try to reel myself back. But her own need saturates the air around us, mixing with mine like a spark to a powder keg.

I want the girl.

Crave her.

I’ve already had a taste and it only increased my appetite. But if there was ever a definition of off limits, it’s her.

I don’t need a complication like Bree in my life. And that’s exactly what she is – a sweet, tempting, irresistible complication.

“Jeezus, Bree,” I growl, raking my teeth across the sensitive flesh below her ear and feeling her tremble against me. “What are ye doing to me?”

She lets out a whimper when I tug slightly at her hair.

“You said-”

“Forget what I said.” I cup her jaw, searching her face, seeing uncertainty and desire vacillating across her features.

She’s unhinged something inside of me. That primal instinct to possess and protect. And hell, if it doesn’t scare the shit out of me. But, I also know that if I don’t see where this can go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

There’s a knock on the door, and I mutter a curse. “That’ll be Emer and Delaney.”

A frown tugs at her lips.

“They’re going to spend the night with ye.”

“Oh.” She licks her lips, a hint of disappointment tugging at her brows.

My fingers are still tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, my forehead resting against hers. I don’t want to let her go. There’s still a lot that needs to be said. I think about telling the women to piss off, to leave us alone, but I doubt that would go over well.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” I press my lips against her forehead before dropping my hands.

Her fingers rise to her lips, confusion pulling at her brows.

I open the door to Emer and Delaney, who instantly rush into the room, wrapping their arms around Bree, and fussing over her.

“Are ye all right? I shouldn’t have left ye alone out there,” Emer says, visibly shaken.

Bree slowly softens, her tension scattering in the presence of the other women.

This is where she belongs. With them. With me.

I wince at the last thought, knowing what I’m gambling with if I let whatever this thing is between us go any further.

“Out,” Emer says, pointing at the door. “Girls’ night only.”

I grunt and grab my guitar, before heading to Aiden’s suite.

Shane and Cillian are already there, working on a song for the next album.

“She okay?” Shane asks, stretching an arm over the back of the couch and pulling out his phone, checking his messages.

“Yeah.” I pull a beer from the mini-fridge and toss the lid in the garbage can beside it. “I’m going to head home for a few days. Thought I might take her with me.”

Silence and a few raised eyebrows are my only response. I expect a few jabs, or a lecture from Aiden, but I get nothing.

Cillian strums his pick over the guitar strings, then leans over and scribbles something on the paper in front of him. Shane keeps scrolling through his phone, and Aiden leans against the wall, his arms crossed.

I sit down beside Cillian and pick up the chords he’s written down.

“Think ye can put some words to them?” he asks.

Lyrics used to come easy to me. But over the past year, everything I’ve written has been flat. Tonight, though, words spin inside my head, begging to be written.

I take one of the notepads and a pencil from the table and begin to scribble them down.

Thirty minutes later, I hand the notebook to Aiden.

“What is it?” His gaze scans the words, his brows rising in discernable appreciation.

“Our next song.” I walk toward the bedroom, and say over my shoulder. “Oh, and since ye assholes kicked me out of my own room, I’m taking the damn bed.”