THE DRUMMER Teaser Tuesday
TBR: Goodreads
Lincoln and Michaela were introduced in A Rockstar Christmas Wedding.
Lincoln Adams is only supposed to be a drunken mistake, the consequence of a little too much Christmas wedding eggnog. Once he’s asleep, I sneak out of his apartment expecting to never see the drummer again.
Except I left my guitar at his friend’s house. And my earring on his floor.
An earring he uses to leverage me into a lunch date where he starts chipping away at the armor erected around my heart while heating up my body with a need I’ve never felt before. I indulge in his body one last time.
Until a surprise mutual connection brings us together for a week of sharing and sensual delights.
What happens in Virginia can stay in Virginia—right?
This story is intended for readers 18 and over due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.
Michaela
December 26th
These sheets don’t feel like mine. Why am I naked? I never sleep naked.
I opened my eyes in a dark room. As my sight adjusted, I saw nothing was in the same place as my bedroom in the apartment I shared with Moira.
I sat up, keeping the sheet over my breasts, and memories began resurfacing.
Christmas wedding. Adult eggnog. Green eyes. Earth-shattering orgasms.
Dread sunk my stomach. The room wasn’t as dark as it initially appeared, light poking in around the curtain on the window. Steeling my nerve, I turned my head.
Black hair, a bare male shoulder, and a defined arm. Shit.
Michaela, what did you do?
Going home with a man wasn’t something I was known for. I didn’t date!
Not since—
Not going there.
Alcohol wasn’t something I did, either, but…
Get out of here before
Right. At least it wasn’t an inner spring mattress. I moved off of it without any squeaks or groans, then crept around looking for my clothes. Underwear, good. A bra.
Right. My dress had been shed outside the bedroom. He’d been…eager.
Thank God the door was open. I only had to sneak out of his apartment.
The rustle of covers. I froze.
Slowly peeked, and he’d only rolled onto his back.
The universe doesn’t completely hate me.
One last glance at
the sexy man who only seemed bad on the outside, then I ran on my toes down the
short hall and into the living room.
I checked my phone. Still had charge. Thank you. I could call a car here.
As soon as I knew where here was.
Couldn’t help leaving his door unlocked, but outside seemed like a safe neighborhood. The vehicles in the parking lot were current and not held together by duct tape. I made it down to the street, saw a bigger intersection a short walk down, and opened the car service app when I read the signs. In my buzzed-on-eggnog lust, I hadn’t paid attention to the address he gave the cabbie. How sound-proof were those partitions?
While I waited, I prayed to anything listening that the ride-share driver to come wasn’t a rapist or serial killer.
Then, with any luck, Mo would be sound asleep and this night could be forgotten.
No need to ever
see
Once my inner thighs stopped protesting movement and my…
Well. Once the physical signs of sex were gone.
Like my hair. My hands flew to feel the mass of curls on my head. I’d pinned them back into a bun for the wedding—
Shit.
My guitar.
I groaned. I’d have to return to Mrs. Lindsey’s to get it from her barn.
At least they were
people that respected instruments.
Considering Mrs. Lindsey’s kindness so far, I knew it wasn’t in any
danger, but this was mortifying. Not only was it irresponsible, but everyone
would know what I did. It would be
obvious I left with
Lust really short-circuited a woman’s brain.
Lust and loneliness.
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