Groupie (Rock-Hard Beautiful, #1)

by C.M. Stunich

“I hope I'm not fucking your sleep up too much, honey,” Ransom says, dragging his gaze from Pax to look back at me. His dark eyes take in the long pale lines of my legs with interest. I color a little, thinking of last night, of having sex with him and Copeland on the couch. And then wondering what I was thinking wearing this shirt with no underwear, like I know these guys at all. I'm too comfortable here; this should be weird. Only it's kind of … not. “You'd drive anyone completely mental after a few nights,” Pax says, but Ransom ignores him, getting his own cup of coffee. He's so completely dark and adorable in his hoodie and black sweats. They've got grinning white skulls all over them and several tears in the side seams. What the hell does he do in those things? “Like you weren't thrashing and groaning in your sleep,” Ransom mumbles, turning and focusing his sleepy bedroom eyes on me again. “I was pissed out of my skull,” Pax says, taking his coffee to the couch and draping his entire tattoo covered body across the leather. To say he looks anything but delicious in that position would be a lie. “'S not like I do that every night.” He smiles, and the expression is back to being ice cold and cruel. “Though I suppose I can't blame you. If I murdered someone, I'd probably have nightmares, too.”