Page 76 of Fame and Obsession
And lower…
I gasp as he settles on a destination, arching my back as his mouth latches onto my clit. All I can do is grab the pillow above my head and squeeze.
I sense him smiling the exact moment he knows he’s about to push me over the edge. Flattening his tongue, he sends me tumbling off the cliff I’m barely holding onto. Grabbing the headboard with both hands, I scream his name and melt into violent tremors.
As I force air into my lungs, he slides up my legs, trailing kisses up the middle of my stomach. “Your scars are beautiful,” he repeats.
* * *
I scan the room until my eyes find their intended target: a red dress tossed carelessly on the floor beside the bed. Dressing as best I can, I grab my phone and purse and sit on the couch with my head in my hand as I dial.
“Is it all I’ve ever dreamed of and six inches more, baby doll?” Gage answers sleepily.
“Not now, okay? Can you borrow a car and come get me? I can’t take a cab. I’ll explain when I see you. I’m at the Jameson Hotel in SoHo.”
After a few more choice words from my best friend, I hang up and drop my face into my hands.
“It’s five o’clock in the morning.” I glance up to find Julian leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, wearing an irritated scowl. “You were just going to bounce without saying anything?”
Pulling legs close, I hug my knees like an anchor. “I’m sorry.”
“I thought we were past this, Phoebe.”
Words fail me again, and I stare at my toes like an idiot. Every few seconds, I glance up to find him deep in thought, so I keep my mouth shut and wait for him to say whatever it is he needs to say.
I deserve it.
Sleeping with him is a line I should’ve never crossed.
The waiting is killing me, so I try appeasing my own insecurities by transforming myself from a spastic one night stand into his appointed, break of dawn autobiographer in the blink of an eye.
“Where did the name Lords of Lyre come from?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Are we really doing this now?”
“Humor me, okay?” I plead. “I’m trying not to have an anxiety attack here.”
He studies me for a moment. “It’s from an eleventh grade high school mythology lesson.” Abruptly abandoning his irritation, he grins as he geeks out. “There was a journal piece written in the fifties about Greek civilization called Hymns That Are Lords of the Lyre. It argued that the loss of music impacts all parts of life. There’s a specific passage that states music existed everywhere in ancient Greek life, and nothing, even dramatic performances, poetry readings, religious gatherings, social functions, or sporting events could function without it.”
“You’ve had that whole passage memorized since eleventh grade?” I tease.
His cheeks flush. “Yeah, but I bombed chemistry. We’re all mythology geeks at heart. I remember coming home and reciting that entire passage to my mom. I think she was just shocked I’d actually learned something after hanging out with Zane.” He chuckles to himself.
“What’s so funny?”
“After that, my mom stopped harping on me about playing the guitar all the time.” He scratches his thickening beard. “She wasn’t against it—she just thought it interfered with school too much. The fact that I could memorize all that, and ace an English exam, calmed her down about my future.”
“What did your dad say?”
His smile fades, and he fidgets with the loose threads on the chair. “My dad died when I was three.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t remember him much. He died in a parachuting accident during a routine plane jump,” he explains. “We were based at McGuire Air Force Base in Hanover, right outside of Trenton. When Dad died, Mom moved Ryker and me to Bergen County to be near her family. We’ve been there ever since.”
“Ryker?”
“My little brother. He was a baby when Dad died, so he has no memory of him at all. Mom was adamant about keeping his memory alive for us, so we’d go out to the field behind the house every military holiday and stick little flags everywhere. You couldn’t even see grass. She called it our Field of Honor.”
