No Pink Caddy (ACE Book 1) by Layne Harper Page A

to . . .”
    He doesn’t let me finish. Before I can say uncle, he dives on top and shuts me up with a soul-searing kiss and one of the hottest make-out sessions of all time.
    As the sun rises in the east, I snuggle next to my still fully clothed rocker and go to sleep contemplating just how hard I’ve already fallen.

Chapter Five
    MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy
    The boy showed up on my doorstep, and he filled my cupboards with food. Strangest night of my life. #I’mSoHappy
     
    MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy
    It’s Grandmother’s annual ball tonight. Keep an eye out for my tweets with the #NPCPartyPics
     
     
    At ten o’clock, my phone’s buzzing wakes me. First, it’s my sister reminding me of hair and nail appointments for Grandmother’s ball this evening. Then it’s Tripp confirming what time he should be at Grandmother’s. Bella texts, wanting to know if I had heard from Aaron.
    Grabbing my phone, I slip out of my bedroom and shut the door behind me. The rock star in my bed needs his beauty rest.
    After I’ve replied to everyone, I grab my laptop, open my social media pages and check for comments. Followers of NPC are split as to whether or not I should Google Aaron. For a split second I question if Aaron cares that I’m sharing our new relationship with my followers. But, I haven’t used his name. I think it’s okay. Now that I know what his occupation is and that he wants me to look him up, I guess I should probably do it. But it makes him more real. There’s a part of me that truly wants to know more about the guy I really like, but here’s the kicker—what if I read things about Aaron and it doesn’t sound like the guy I’ve fallen for?
    The blinking cursor taunts me. I type Aaron, but then erase it. I’m staring at the screen, completely paralyzed, unable to make a decision.
    My phone dings. It’s Aaron, and he’s set his contact picture to the two of us in bed. I smile at my phone . . .
    Aaron: Hi.
    Me: Hi back at ya. I didn’t know I had your number.
    Aaron: I took the liberty of putting my number and our picture in your phone last night. You should really set up passcode security.
    Me: Stalker
    There’s no response for a bit, and I worry my joke didn’t translate over text. Then . . .
    Aaron: You asked me to. You said, “Why can’t you just call me . . .”
    It seems like he’s defending himself. I want to make sure he realizes I was teasing.
    Me: So I did.
    Aaron: Would you like to go on a date tonight?
    He’s trying. Unfortunately, I have the ball.
    Me: I can’t. I have plans.
    Aaron: Date?
    I don’t respond—not a conversation to have over text messaging. I need to explain about Tripp and yes it’s a date, but not in the traditional meaning.
    Straightening my spine, I know I have nothing to be nervous about. When these plans were cemented, Aaron Emerson was still Johnny Knite who was just some guy who made a lot of albums.
    I sound uninterested as I open the bedroom door. “Morning.”
    He’s still under my quilt with his hair fanned on my spare pillow. The phone lies next to his head. “Come here.”
    Walking over to the bed, I stop about a foot from the edge. He grabs my arm and pulls me on top of him while his mouth slams against mine. One hand works its way into my hair and gives it tug. As I moan with delight, his other hand grabs my behind as he forces my center against his erection which is evident through his jeans and my thin quilt.
    My bedroom is chilly and the air damp, but the tank top and pants I have on are too much. Hot blood pumps through my body, and I want to be naked on top of him. His tongue gives me a preview of what it must be like to make love to him. It teases me and tickles my lips while plunging deeply into my mouth, making my hips grind against his.
    More. I want more of him. Every molecule in my body begs for relief. I’ve been in a perpetual state of agitation since I met him. I slept next to the sexiest man on the planet and we just fooled