Page 91 of Silver Sweet

I feign confusion. “Are you sure that’s not whatyouwere doing this morning? This sounds like classic projection.”

“What was he like?” Phoenix asks, nodding toward me. “Did he kneel at your feet, Cobalt god? Did he deep throat every single inch of you?”

Holy shit.I should not be having this back and forth with my bandmate. But it’s become apparent that Phoenix wasn’t exaggerating when he said he liked pushing boundaries too.

“Wish you were there?” I volley back.

“You would’ve liked it more if I had been.”

I clench the microphone.Breathe.Phoenix drinks me in, and I curl my fingers tighter. My body is a million degrees of scalding need.

I manage to tell Phoenix, “I’m not into threesomes or being watched by a third party, so I definitely wouldn’t have wanted you around.”

“I just meant me and you. I wasn’t including your hookup. Who, by the way, is imaginary?—”

“That you think, dude,” I interject. “He could exist.”

“In your head, yeah.”

I give him a middle finger. “My head is a beautiful place. You keep trying to get in there.”

Phoenix doesn’t deny. “Let’s go again.” He grabs his drumsticks. He’s breathing harder, sweat tracks down his inked chest like rivers that I want to follow with my tongue. “Same tempo as the last round.”

The last round.I cup the mic with two hands, my forehead resting to the bulbous end. My lungs are in my throat just imagining going throughthis songagain.

“You ready?” Phoenix asks.

I push a hot hand through my hair. “You must love getting right in it.”

“Sorry, you need me to work you up to it?” He sounds pissed off, per usual.

I blink and remind myself he’d be awful in bed. Too fast. Too inconsiderate. It would probably hurt like hell. I bet he doesn’t use lube.I bethe just drives right in there and takes whatever he wants, then leaves the other guy lonely and cold. It’s exactly the reminder I need to power through the thickest sexual tension I’ve ever waded in.

Cupid’s arrow, gone. I pulled it out.

“No, don’t need that,” I say with an exhale. “I’m good. Drop in.”

The beat is filthy. The lyrics, rip-roaring. The last drum section is a pressure point I can barely,barelyhandle. Especially as Phoenix daggers his eyes on me while he attacks the drums with a visceral ferocity. I almost expect him to let go of the sticks and barrel toward me with the same fire beneath his feet that exist in his hands.

When he doesn’t, I’m in a state of yearning I should not be in—not in this way, not for him.

“You think you can go again?” Phoenix asks in a pant, sounding more curious than challenging. “Or have I run you ragged?”

Fuck me.He knows what he’s doing. My body is so tightly wound, I’m craving a moan-inducing release. I’d like to think this is mutual—that I’m also destroying him.

Phoenix is someone who likes living very close to an edge, and I’m starting to feel him pushing me there this time.

“Last round,” I tell him.

“Can’t take it anymore?” he taunts.

The truth is,no.I’m flirting with disaster just going through this again. “You have me where you want me yet?” I ask back.

“Where I want? Not even close.” He wets his lips, takes a few deep inhales and braces his hands on his thighs.

Am I breathing?

I push my hair back again and whip the cord of the mic away from my feet. I feel him watching my movements. But I don’t stare at Phoenix when I start singing.