Read Online Torn to Pieces (The Boys of DownCrash #2) (new adult contemporary romance / rockstar romance) by London Casey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: London Casey
Tags: Romance
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water tasted great and while I convinced myself it would cure everything - the pain of the moment, the pain of yesterday, and the pain of tomorrow - I knew that it probably wouldn’t even be able to stop the waiting hangover for me in the morning.
After drinking half the bottle of water, I finally put my shirt on, succumbing to the fact that out of all the guys I could have fooled around with and the one guy I actually wanted to fool around with, Tatum had to be the one who didn’t want to fool around with me. Because I was drunk. The hottest drummer in the hottest band... and he had morals.
Just my luck.
“Move over,” Tatum said as he put a knee to the bed.
“You’re sleeping with me?” I asked.
“I’m sleeping next to you. Just to make sure you don’t fall out of bed or try to get out of bed. Now move.”
I looked at Tatum, wanting to be pissed. He was commanding and teetering on being rude. But his body language was anything but. If he was trying to make me feel gross about myself, he failed miserably. What he didn’t know was that I was used to being talked down to and being used. The only difference was that with Tatum, I welcomed it... because he was just so freaking sexy.
~8~
I woke up and refused to move. I refused to even move my eyes as I waited for the sledgehammer feeling to hit me. I knew it had to come and when I remembered what I had drank the night before, it made my stomach flip. After blinking a few times, I rolled to my back and sighed. The white ceiling wasn’t spinning and the room felt calm and very comfortable. Sun flooded around the blinds in my room. Obviously, it was morning, but my bed was surprisingly cozy and I felt like I could sleep twelve more hours.
When I looked to my left, I realized what made my bed suddenly feel so comfortable and welcoming.
Tatum.
My jaw dropped. I licked my lips, wanting to taste Tatum. But I didn’t. I tasted stale breath and wine. Gross. Then I remembered Tatum and I didn’t go anywhere. He stopped it. Over and over, he stopped it.
But at least I had him in my bed.
I rolled to my left and thought about touching Tatum. I knew where I wanted to touch, but I wasn’t sure where I should. The more the night came back to me, the more the erotic moments left my mind and the serious entered.
How desperate I sounded, all the hints I left dangling.
Oh no, my shirt too.
I took my shirt off... and then tried to take my bra off.
My cheeks turned red.
I ended up as the drunk slut everyone thought I was. But Tatum didn’t take advantage of it. Even with my shirt off, he stopped it. Even with my fingers at the clasp on the back of my bra, he stopped it. Even when I kissed him, begged him to touch me, to have me, he...
“Morning,” Tatum said with his eyes still shut.
I gasped and jumped, not expecting to hear his voice.
“You coped a feel,” I said.
Tatum opened his right eye first, then his left, and he looked at me. “Did I miss something?”
“You touched me last night,” I said.
I watched Tatum’s lip curl. I had touched a nerve. And Tatum had touched me. He cupped my left breast the night before, I remembered it. His big hand moving along my breast and nipple, teasing me, loving me for a few seconds.
“That’s what you remember?” Tatum asked.
“Yeah, it is,” I said. “I was drunk, with no shirt on, and you touched me.”
“You took your shirt off on your own,” Tatum said. “And you... you just wanted it...”
Tatum started to scramble, fighting emotions. He looked ready to explode, his face tense, stuck between regret and anger.
“Why did you stop then?” I asked. “You were already there.”
“Because it was wrong to keep going,” Tatum said. “Okay? I didn’t want you to wake up like this.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. Questioning everything. Wondering why. Trying to remember. When I have you, Maggie, I want
After drinking half the bottle of water, I finally put my shirt on, succumbing to the fact that out of all the guys I could have fooled around with and the one guy I actually wanted to fool around with, Tatum had to be the one who didn’t want to fool around with me. Because I was drunk. The hottest drummer in the hottest band... and he had morals.
Just my luck.
“Move over,” Tatum said as he put a knee to the bed.
“You’re sleeping with me?” I asked.
“I’m sleeping next to you. Just to make sure you don’t fall out of bed or try to get out of bed. Now move.”
I looked at Tatum, wanting to be pissed. He was commanding and teetering on being rude. But his body language was anything but. If he was trying to make me feel gross about myself, he failed miserably. What he didn’t know was that I was used to being talked down to and being used. The only difference was that with Tatum, I welcomed it... because he was just so freaking sexy.
~8~
I woke up and refused to move. I refused to even move my eyes as I waited for the sledgehammer feeling to hit me. I knew it had to come and when I remembered what I had drank the night before, it made my stomach flip. After blinking a few times, I rolled to my back and sighed. The white ceiling wasn’t spinning and the room felt calm and very comfortable. Sun flooded around the blinds in my room. Obviously, it was morning, but my bed was surprisingly cozy and I felt like I could sleep twelve more hours.
When I looked to my left, I realized what made my bed suddenly feel so comfortable and welcoming.
Tatum.
My jaw dropped. I licked my lips, wanting to taste Tatum. But I didn’t. I tasted stale breath and wine. Gross. Then I remembered Tatum and I didn’t go anywhere. He stopped it. Over and over, he stopped it.
But at least I had him in my bed.
I rolled to my left and thought about touching Tatum. I knew where I wanted to touch, but I wasn’t sure where I should. The more the night came back to me, the more the erotic moments left my mind and the serious entered.
How desperate I sounded, all the hints I left dangling.
Oh no, my shirt too.
I took my shirt off... and then tried to take my bra off.
My cheeks turned red.
I ended up as the drunk slut everyone thought I was. But Tatum didn’t take advantage of it. Even with my shirt off, he stopped it. Even with my fingers at the clasp on the back of my bra, he stopped it. Even when I kissed him, begged him to touch me, to have me, he...
“Morning,” Tatum said with his eyes still shut.
I gasped and jumped, not expecting to hear his voice.
“You coped a feel,” I said.
Tatum opened his right eye first, then his left, and he looked at me. “Did I miss something?”
“You touched me last night,” I said.
I watched Tatum’s lip curl. I had touched a nerve. And Tatum had touched me. He cupped my left breast the night before, I remembered it. His big hand moving along my breast and nipple, teasing me, loving me for a few seconds.
“That’s what you remember?” Tatum asked.
“Yeah, it is,” I said. “I was drunk, with no shirt on, and you touched me.”
“You took your shirt off on your own,” Tatum said. “And you... you just wanted it...”
Tatum started to scramble, fighting emotions. He looked ready to explode, his face tense, stuck between regret and anger.
“Why did you stop then?” I asked. “You were already there.”
“Because it was wrong to keep going,” Tatum said. “Okay? I didn’t want you to wake up like this.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. Questioning everything. Wondering why. Trying to remember. When I have you, Maggie, I want
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