“I had a bunch of bacon leftover from a tourism conference this morning, so I figured, why let it go to waste?”
My nose scrunches up. “I don’t like bacon.”
Caleb’s hands stop moving. “What?”
“It leaves a weird taste in my mouth.” Shrugging, I walk over to the cabinet, pull out a mug that has a foxtail as its handle, and pour a cup of coffee. “Probably because my mom used to burn it any time she’d bother making breakfast when I was a kid. My brain rejects it all the same.”
“Wow. You know, sometimes I feel like I don’t know you at all.”
He shakes his head with a little laugh. I watch as he flips a little flattened circle of dough, pressing down on the top, and try to ignore the wound his words leave on my heart.
“Doesn’t like bacon. Sheesh. Well, at any rate, the bacon’s just one aspect of this meal. I’m also making—”
He cuts off abruptly as he turns, eyes widening as he takes me in. “Holy shit, Angel, what the hell happened to your face?”
I groan, reaching up to cover my jaw with my fingers. “Oh god, nothing. I’m having some kind of allergic reaction to my lotion, I think.”
Abandoning the stove, Caleb wipes his hands on a dish towel, then immediately walks over. Pushing me aside, he reaches up to cradle my face, tilting it in various directions as he inspects the rash.
“Do you have any allergies?”
“I—”
“Latex.”
My head whips around to find the source of the answer, even though I know without looking who it came from. Aiden slips in through the glass patio door, and my heart stutters inside my chest as I rake my gaze over him.
Droplets of water cling to his tanned skin—skin that, until now, I’ve only ever seen the bare minimum of. In every paparazzi photo of him that exists, Aiden’s wearing a shirt. Doesn’t matter if he’s on the beach, in a pool, or on stage.
It’s never been something he’s commented on in interviews, either.
As he walks inside, his dark and damp hair dripping onto the defined, inked planes of his torso, I can’t figure out why he’d ever hide himself.
I can’t stop staring as he comes closer, not the slightest bit concerned that he’s getting the floor wet. My eyes trail over the intricate designs etched into his chest—instruments, abstract drawings, and flowers decorate his skin, each one bleeding into the next to make a homologous collection.
A phoenix sits at the center, its fiery wings spanning across his pecs and the tail wrapping around his belly button.
But that’s not the only thing that catches my eye; as I make my third pass around the colorful linework, my gaze snags on a splash of silver.
My stomach tightens. His left nipple is pierced.
A plain dime-sized hoop hangs off the puckered flesh, and for some reason, my first instinct is to reach out and hook my pinkie through it.
Folding my mouth together, I slip my hands behind my back, resisting.
Aiden seems to zero in on where Caleb’s holding me, and his jaw tics, his tongue pushing against his cheek as he leans against the counter.
“How do you know she has a latex allergy?” Caleb asks, and I want to pinch my eyes closed, because even I anticipate what’s about to come out of Aiden’s mouth.
The rock star grins. “How do you think I know?”
He stares at Caleb’s hands until they drop, then reaches for my robe and tugs me into him so I’m nestled between his legs.
To anyone else, the gesture might seem warm and romantic. But when his palm lands on my back, searing me through the thick fabric I have on, I feel his fingers dig into me.
Clawing.
Claiming.
It’s not romantic, so much as it is Aiden asserting his dominance over the situation.
Over me.
Stupidly, because I still feel like I owe him—and because I don’t hate the way it feels—I let him. Even though doing so causes a flash of hurt to spark in Caleb’s eyes as he backs away, returning to his skillet.
“Hot tub works, by the way,” Aiden tells me, reaching up to tuck some hair behind my ear.
I didn’t even know I had a hot tub.
His eyebrows draw in, creasing in the middle. “What the hell happened to your chin?”
“It’s nothing.” Heat crawls up my neck, embarrassment burning into me. “Just some kind of reaction to my lotion. I’m calling the doctor as soon as everyone leaves my house.”
“Lotion?”
“Yes, it’s what humans use to moisturize their skin?”
“Are you suggesting I’m some sort of extraterrestrial?”
“More like demon spawn.”
Caleb clears his throat. “My mom probably has some aloe vera mixture that might help with that, in the meantime. I know doctor appointments around here are pretty sparse this time of year.”
“She’ll get in to see one,” Aiden says. “I’ll pull strings if I have to.”
“I’m not sure if you have the same kind of reach in Lunar Cove as you might in other places.” Caleb flips his dough onto a nearby plate, returning to the pan for another and repeating the process. “The people around here don’t really give a shit about your fame.”
“Do they give a shit about money? Because I could probably be the owner of this tourist trap by sundown, if I wanted to be.”
Setting the spatula on the counter, Caleb turns, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks at me, then at Aiden, and back. A lump forms in my throat, unease spilling like flames down my esophagus.
“You might be able to,” he says, pinning me with a dark look, “but I don’t think you’d be able to buy Angel. So, maybe consider your priorities before you go around trying to prove how big your dick is.”
“I don’t have to prove anything.” Aiden’s hand wraps around my skull, pulling me against his wet chest. “Angel already knows the truth. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”
My teeth saw into my bottom lip, irritation buzzing through my veins at the same time my insides preen, basking in the glow of his admiration.
Caleb’s face softens, his disappointment unmistakable.
“I’m gonna head out,” he says, walking over to a chair at the island where his dark-gray coat hangs.