Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

he did, how did he get past the doorman?” One of the perks of living in our apartment was no danger of door-to-door salesmen or unwanted boyfriends banging on your door at three in the morning. Every visitor had to be signed or escorted in, with the concierge militant about the no-stranger rule. Unless someone vouched for you, you were left to chill on the sidewalk.
    Of course the smart thing to do would be to open the damn door. Then we’d see who was on the other side, rather than deliberating if someone had been stealthy enough to get through the rigorous security measures. The second knock punctuated the point.
    “We should answer it.” Jules’ head tilted toward the door, and by we, she meant me . She had made breakfast so I guess if we were going to get murdered by some random stranger, I should be the first one to go. It would be the polite thing to do.
    “Fine, I’ll do it.” I shuffled to the door, regretting my decision to not wear a bra. Last thing I needed was the murderer checking out my rack before he went slasher on me. Seriously, enough with the fucking clichés.
    I tiptoed to the door like an idiot, unsure of when I turned into a moron and pressed my eye to the peephole.
    Oh.
    My.
    God.
    “What the fuck?” I said it out loud as well as in my head, because my brain couldn’t connect with what my eyes were seeing. My hands fumbled with the lock as I tried to open the door. C’mon fingers, twist and pull ; the door flew open confirming who I’d seen through the peephole hadn’t been a mirage.
    “Beth?”
    Standing on my threshold was Max Reynolds, the six-foot-three, dark haired sex god from Black Addiction who I’d said goodbye to years ago. And goddamn those years had been good to him. Sure, I’d seen him in magazines, on TV or the occasional Google search, but it was nothing compared to what he looked like in the flesh.
    Wow.
    Was I staring? I must have been, because he was looking just as confused as I was.
    “Beth?” He said my name again, stepping forward without an invitation. Not that he needed one; he pretty much owned every room he ever walked in. Mine—was no exception.
    “Max, what are you doing here?”
    There were a million questions running through my mind, but what had brought him to my front door was probably the one that was screaming the loudest. Along with, “How did you get hotter?” and “Can you please take off your shirt?” Thankfully the last few were saved just for me.
    “Whoaaaaaaaa, Max Reynolds, the bass player from Black Addiction?” Jules’ voice reminded me I wasn’t alone as she sidled up next to me, her eyes almost bulging from her head.
    “That would be me.” His lips spread into a huge grin and every memory of that smile and what it was capable of came flooding back.
    That smile was dangerous and I was already having trouble fighting gravity today. The temptation to check if this wasn’t some alcohol fuelled dream proved too great as I reached out and placed my hand on his chest.
    Hard.
    Even through the fabric of his T-shirt, I could feel the toned muscles underneath.
    “Do you fondle all your guests or just ones you haven’t seen in a while?” His brow rose as we both looked down at my hand. It seemed to have a mind of its own, wandering with reckless abandon all over his torso, as I stood there mostly silent.
    “Crap, sorry.” I yanked my offending hand away from his delicious body and reminded myself I still had no idea what he was doing here. It was also a safe bet I had no idea what I was doing either so I hoped he had a better handle on it.
    “No apologies needed.” Another smile.
    Don’t touch him, I reminded myself.
    “Someone want to explain why Max Reynolds is at our front door?” Jules eyed us impatiently. “And why does it seem like you know each other already?”
    “Because we dated. Extensively.” Max’s eyes stayed glued to mine despite it being Jules who was asking the question. “And I just moved in, figured