Free When Fangirls Lie by Marian Tee Page B

heart beating a mile a minute.

    When the elevator doors closed on them, Saffi barely had time to breathe before Staffan had her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips slamming on hers. They groaned in unison when her sex rubbed against his cock as she locked her arms around his neck. She pushed herself closer to him, so desperately eager to have every inch of their bodies touching the same time her tongue entered his mouth and her nipples stretched and pricked his chest.

    “ Staffan .” Just being able to say his name out loud as Staffan kissed and held her in his arms was an exquisite pleasure, and it drove her crazier.

    He shuddered, even more aroused by the way her voice lovingly wrapped itself all around his name. She was a natural born temptress, needing no sexual experience to beguile men. All men.

    But no one else would fucking have her because Saffi March was his.

    The elevator doors finally slid open. Saffi stiffened, and his hold tightened in response. Keeping her in his arms, legs still wrapped around his waist, Staffan walked briskly down the hallway.

    Encountering the surprised gazes of housemaids and bellhops made Saffi flush red, and she quickly tucked her face in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes, and inhaling his scent.

    Oh God, he smelled so wonderful. He had taken a shower during their flight, and the fresh scent of his shampoo just made her more eager to find out what it would be like to have Staffan make love to her.

    Not Staffan Aehrenthal the billionaire rockstar.

    Not Sweden’s #1 Sex God.

    Not Mr. Rockstar Chic.

    But just Staffan – the man she had secretly felt so incredibly close to even though they had never met.

    Serendipity, she thought giddily then giggled when another thought occurred to her. “Serendipity” wasn’t enough. If it was Staffan he would call it something else.

    Fucking serendipity.

    Staffan sensed Saffi smiling against his skin as he took them out of the elevator, and the thought of it made his heart kick up a weird fuss. But it also intensified his arousal and he quickened his pace, practically running towards the suite. Forget about being looking fucking cool! All he wanted was to fuck Saffi March and he was going to fucking kill anyone who fucking stood in his way.

    Bob opened the door to his suite for him.

    Staffan paused just before going in. “H.” It was an effort to speak when all he could think of was finally making Saffi his.

    “Mm?” she mumbled against his skin, the heat of her cheeks telling him how mortified she still felt.

    “Do I need to buy condoms?”

    “No,” Saffi answered without hesitation. She had bought her pills three months ago, the moment after he called, but he didn’t have to know that.

    “Are you sure?”

    “The pills are inside my bag. You can check them.”

    He pressed a kiss to her hair, unable to help it. “Sorry for being an ass. I just wanted to be sure.”

    She kissed his neck. “I understand.”

    The tenderness of her action and her words didn’t escape Staffan – or Bob. He looked at his bodyguard, whose face was expressionless. “No one disturbs us,” he said in a hard voice.

    Politely keeping his gaze off the girl in his employer’s arms, her face a picture of embarrassment, Bob answered, “Yes, boss.”

    The door slammed shut in his face, followed immediately by a long, loud whimper.

    Bob allowed himself a small grin. For almost a year now, Staffan had been an unfeeling bastard, uncaring of what happened in his life. Following the breakup, Staffan had been careful to maintain the same image, allowing him to be photographed with different women. But what no one knew outside his crew was that none of those women had made it to his bed.

    Who would have thought that someone like this “H” – whose cute and clueless ways made Bob and everyone else suspect her as anything but a groupie – would be the one to get the famous rockstar to start living – and having sex – again?

    The