Phoenix must be able to sense what I’m thinking because he grinds out, “This is my dream, Lennon. The one I worked my ass off for.”
Right.
I dig my key card out of my purse. “Night.”
I’m opening the door to my room when his hand slips around my waist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To bed.”
The hand on my waist slides down to squeeze my ass. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.” Before I can protest, he sucks my earlobe between his teeth. “But the plans I have in mind for us involve my bed. Not yours.”
A rush of heat envelops me. “What plans?”
After digging his key card out of his pocket, he opens the door and pulls me inside. “Tonight, you’re gonna be the puppet.”
It shouldn’t sound so enticing, but holy hell, it does.
The moment the door closes, I’m pressed against it.
I close my eyes as his mouth glides down my neck. “I didn’t get to make you come in the elevator.” Sharp teeth nip my collarbone. “Which means I need to make you come twice right now.”
Lucky me.
I rub his erection through his pants. “If you really want me to come, you—”
A scream rips from my throat when I notice a woman standing twenty feet away, staring at us.
Phoenix whips around, shielding me.
“Hi,” the woman—or rather girl—says because she can’t possibly be a day over seventeen. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…I’ve been dying to meet you.”
I poke Phoenix in the ribs. “See? This is what happens when you don’t use security for your groupies.”
Maybe now he’ll realize how important having bodyguards is and he’ll quit telling them to fuck off all the time.
Phoenix digs his phone out of his pocket. “On it.”
“No,” the girl pleads as she comes closer. “Please don’t call security. I can explain.”
“Start by explaining how you snuck into my room,” Phoenix barks.
“Easy.” She lifts her shoulders in a lackadaisical shrug. “I stole a housekeeping card from one of the maids.”
Yep. These fans don’t mess around.
But what’s even more disturbing than her breaking and entering is the way she keeps ogling Phoenix with her big green crazy eyes.
I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled out a gun at this point.
I poke him again. “Get security. Now.”
He brings his cell to his ear. “Yeah. I need someone up here right away. A groupie snuck into my suite—”
“I’m not a groupie,” she interjects. “I’m your sister.”
I freeze.
Phoenix, however, shakes his head, not buying it. Then again, he’s probably heard this line a thousand times before. People will do and say anything to meet a famous rock star.
Although now that I look at her…she does bear a striking resemblance to him.
Like Phoenix, she has dirty-blonde hair, only hers is long and super wavy. She shares his amazing bone structure, too. She’s also lanky and tall—well, tall compared to me—given she hovers around five-five.
Not to mention…she’s stealthy and likes to steal, so there’s that.
“Get your asses up here now,” Phoenix grunts before hanging up the phone.
“How old are you?” I ask, which earns me a look from Phoenix.
“Don’t start up a conversation with the psycho fangirl. It will only encourage her.”
“Hey. I’m not a psycho fangirl,” she says with a scowl. “I don’t even think Sharp Objects is all that great. Harvey Trinity from Steppingstone was right, your last album sucked worse than a whore on payday. You got too commercial and became sellouts.”
When Phoenix’s eyes narrow into tiny slits, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles sweetly. “I really loved your first song, though. You guys should go back to doing stuff like that.”
On second thought, I kind of like her.
Phoenix crosses his arms over his chest. “We did not become sellouts.”
She mutters something under her breath before looking at me. “To answer your question, I’m fifteen. But I’ll be sixteen in like five weeks.”
Geez. She’s even younger than I thought. Where the hell are her parents?
There’s a loud knock on the door and Phoenix goes to answer it. “Hope you enjoy jail.”
“Wait,” she begs. “Please. I swear I’m telling the truth.”