Sing for Me: A Rock Star Romance Page 3

  "You've been checking out my ass?" He winks. "Don't let Cindy know. She gets jealous."

  I guess that means they're on. Lately, the two of them break up and get back together every other week.

  Drew attempts to hide the frustration creeping onto his face, but he fails miserably. As much as I love starting shit, I know better than to press this issue. Pete is madly in love with his high-school sweetheart. Drew is adamantly against relationships of any kind—his certainly failed spectacularly enough.

  I'm not about to tell our bassist he's a poor sucker for believing in love. He knows my feelings on the subject. It blows up in his face often enough that he must feel it too.

  Love destroys everything beautiful.

  When it destroys him, I'll be there, ready to write another fucking song.

  That's all the four of us know how to do. Shit goes bad, we play. That doesn't always fix things, but it never hurts.

  "Your girl gonna get jealous if you go to your brother's party?" I tease.

  "Which one? Tom throws a party every other night," Pete says.

  "This weekend," I say.

  Pete shrugs.

  I look to Drew. "You bringing your friend... what's her name? With the nice tits?" I remember Drew's friend Kara vividly, but the guitarist is suffering from some delusion that the two of them will be flirty friends forever.

  She's cute, smart, and sweet. She won't have trouble finding someone to warm her bed. If it's not him...

  He's going to be one miserable motherfucker if he has to watch her with someone else.

  Drew glares. "Say that again, see what happens."

  Fuck, he makes this too easy. Riling up Drew is fun. And it's for his own good. "She's hot. If you don't get some of that..." I shrug my shoulders as if to say I will.

  I won't.

  But someone will.

  He spent our entire tour texting her nonstop, but he can't admit he's into her.

  Pete shoots me a grow up look.

  I shrug back. What's it hurt?

  "You should clear your bed for her," I say.

  "You should fuck off," Drew says.

  "I'm hearing that a lot today," I say.

  Pete chuckles. "I wonder why."

  I ignore their attitude. My eyes meet Drew's. I arch an eyebrow. "Is she coming?"

  He glares. "With a friend. Don't think about touching either of them."

  I won't, but it's fun pretending. "What if the friend is begging me to fulfill all her fantasies?"

  "You want to work on this chord progression or not?" Drew asks.

  I let it go.

  I wait for Pete to grab his bass, then I settle in to my seat. This, us making music, is where we belong.

  This is the only place where there's no bullshit.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fuck, I'm getting old.

  There's a raucous party downstairs and there are only two thoughts going through my head.

  One is that's too fucking loud.

  The other...

  Not going there.

  I've been struggling with these lyrics all week. They're not going to come to me today.

  Might as well make someone come. I need out of my head.

  I slide my notebook into a drawer, clear all the unnecessary shit off my bed, and head downstairs.

  Tom really outdid himself. This party is in full swing. The music is pounding. Everywhere I look, people are getting hot and heavy.

  Everywhere except the table in the corner. That's top shelf shit and it's going fast.

  Someone brushes up against me. A woman. It's not an accident. I don't have to look at her to know that. I can tell from the way her hand curls around my forearm.

  "Oh my God. Are you really Miles Webb?" She moves closer. "I'm a huge fan."

  I pull my eyes away from the booze to look at her. She's a cute blond with her fake tits on full display.

  She stares up into my eyes. "I don't do threesomes."

  Damn. Does she really think I’m scouting for a third just because I’m no longer staring at her tits?

  She does.

  I shoot her a panty-melting look and let my voice drop to a seductive tone. I'm teasing her for that. "What if I invite Tom?"

  Her expression gets hungry. Greedy. She giggles. "Not with other girls. But if you want to invite one of your bandmates..."

  I don't like the tone of her voice.

  I don't do the rock star fantasy thing. She can have sex with me. She can't have sex with the hot guy she saw in a music video.

  This is only happening if we're both in it.

  But fuck, that table in the corner is calling my name...

  Better this than that.

  I slide my arm around her waist and nod to the stairs. "What's your name honey?"

  "Stephanie."

  I lead her through the crowd. Fuck knows I want this to be the kind of sex that gets me screaming her name.

  This needs to be something real.

  But from the way she's pawing at my arm like I'm a fancy trophy...

  Shit, I should invite Tom to watch. At least that would be interesting. But he's lost in the fray.

  Drew too. Not that he'd ever accept that invitation.

  Pete's always down to watch, or at least listen, when he and his girlfriend are in the off phase of their on/off drama shit.

  But shit, they're on right now.

  And he's off someplace.

  Which means it's just me and Stephanie.

  Just our bodies.

  I lead her into my room.

  Onto my bed.

  Out of her clothes.

  She tugs my t-shirt over my head. Pulls my jeans and boxers to my feet. Then she's dropping to her knees.

  I let my thoughts slip away for long enough for it to feel good.

  I slip on a condom, throw her onto the bed, get behind her.

  But the way she's grunting already, without me even touching her—

  Fuck, this is bullshit.

  My body is responding, but my head is off some other place, and it's not coming back.

  I’m tempted to call this off now, but I’m not going to be a selfish fuck.

  I press my eyelids together, and stop trying to push my thoughts away. It's almost fucking working when the door opens.

  That must be the no-longer-M.I.A. bassist.

  Only it's not.

  It's a woman. She's staring.

  Staring and blushing.

  Stephanie shrieks. She scrambles off the bed and pulls a sheet over her chest.

  The newcomer stares.

  "Miles," Stephanie whines. "You fucker! I told you I don't do threesomes."

  It's too bad. The way this woman's brown eyes are lighting up as she stares is intriguing as all hell.

  A hundred bucks says Stephanie will stick around if I ask this woman to watch.

  Fuck, I'm considering it.

  But the way she's staring... she looks more dumbstruck than anything.

  I raise a brow. "You mind?"

  She barely manages to take her eyes off my cock for long enough to offer an apologetic look.

  "I'm sorry." She presses her lips together. "Excuse me. I thought this was the bathroom."

  Sure, she did. It's a bad excuse, but if I'm going to have bullshit sex, I might as well do something fun. The clueless fan being punished by the big, bad rock star...

  Could be interesting.

  I nod to the hall. "Next door on the left."

  Her gaze goes back to my cock. Again, she blushes.

  Again, she barely manages to pull her eyes away from my hard-on.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, I'm washed up and back to mingling. The Steele brothers are nowhere to be seen, but Drew's on the couch. With his friend. The two of them are drunk off their asses, but given the way she's cozying up next to him—well, I hope he took my advice about clearing his bed.

  A redhead in a tight dress and high heels paws at my arm. She shoots me that please fulfill my
rock star fantasies look.

  I used to get off on that kind of adoration, but it doesn't do shit for me anymore.

  I play my part. I make a joke. I offer her a charming smile. But I'm not here.

  My gaze shifts over the room.

  There she is, the "shy" girl from upstairs.

  She's cute—chestnut hair, brown eyes, long legs. Fuck that's a short skirt. And she's wearing sneakers. Those legs are all her.

  She looks as out of place as I feel. Not just her casual shoes, but the tortured expression on her face.

  Her eyes meet mine and her cheeks turn red.

  She's picturing me naked.

  And god damn is it showing in the flush spreading over her chest.

  I'm not about to let her get away with that Oops, I can't believe I walked in on your tryst thing.

  She forces her gaze to the floor, then makes her way through the crowd, to the kitchen.

  I excuse myself and follow her.

  "You're not big on respecting people's privacy, huh?" I ask.

  She turns and gives me a long, slow once-over. This time, she manages to keep her gaze off my crotch.

  She clears her throat as she makes eye contact. "No, I'm not big on alcohol. I can't find anything else to drink."

  Sounds like Tom.

  Sounds like bullshit too, but on the off chance it's not...

  Well, I'm not about to fuck with someone's recovery.

  I make a point of brushing the back of my hand against her shoulders as I pull open the fridge.

  Her eyelids press together.

  She takes her tongue between her teeth.

  She wants me.

  Badly.

  I drop my voice to something low and seductive. "Help yourself."

  "Thanks."

  She grabs a water bottle and holds it to her chest. Her eyes stay glued to mine. They're going wide. She's working something out.

  Realizing something.

  It spreads all over her face.

  Then it stops.

  She stops.

  She's just staring at me.

  What the hell? "You okay?"

  She nods. "I don't walk in on casual sex very often."

  Uh-huh. No way in hell am I buying that story.

  But there is something about her expression.

  She seems innocent.

  Like it really was an accident.

  "I was looking for the bathroom." She takes a step backwards. "Excuse me. I should go."

  Huh? Fangirls don't usually run away when they finally have the attention of their celebrity crush.

  But there's no fucking way that story is true.

  Something isn't adding up here.

  I have to figure this out. I offer her a smile. It's as sincere as I get lately. "You're not going to let me formally introduce myself?"

  "Okay." She pulls her hand from her side. "I'm Meg Smart."

  "Miles Webb." I take her hand and shake. Fuck, she's nervous. Her palm is clammy and her brown eyes are filled with apprehension. "I’m surprised we haven’t met before."

  "I don't go to parties."

  "Guess that makes this my lucky day."

  There's something about the earnest expression in her eyes.

  I almost believe that shit upstairs was an honest mistake.

  One more question and I'll know.

  "Why'd you decide to come tonight?" I ask.

  Again, she blushes. This time, she manages to hold my gaze. "My friend convinced me I wouldn't hate it."

  Shit, I do believe her.

  That means no clueless fangirl roleplay.

  But this—the way she's looking at me like an actual human being who she desperately wants to fuck—is way better.

  "What's the verdict?" I ask.

  "I still don't like parties." Her chest heaves as she inhales. She exhales with purpose. Her eyes go to the floor, then they're back on mine. "Why'd you come tonight?"

  She blushes at the word come.

  I point upstairs. "That was my bedroom you burst into."

  That blush deepens.

  Damn, she's shy.

  I better take this slow.

  I move a little closer. "I don't blame you for looking. I'd do the same."

  She nods. Presses her lips together.

  Her eyes dart around the room but her body stays turned toward mine.

  Then her eyes are back on mine. She stares at me like she's staring into my soul. "You... You're, um... you're in the band? The one throwing the party?"

  Fuck.

  So much for that.

  "Yeah. Sinful Serenade. I'm the vocalist." I scrutinize her expression. There's no sign she's full of shit. She's nervous, sure, but she doesn't recognize me.

  Damn, the way she's looking at me...

  It's innocent and depraved at once.

  She clears her throat and takes a step backwards. "I'm looking for my friend." Her eyes meet mine. "Kara."

  Fuck, Meg is Drew's friend's friend.

  Which means she's one of the only two women here I shouldn't flirt with.

  "She's tight with some guy in your band," Meg says. "They go way back."

  I nod. "Yeah. Drew had a lot to say about her during our last tour."

  Meg presses her lips together. "I should really find her. And go home." She takes a step toward the party. "I have to study. You know how it is. Or maybe not, being a rock star and all. But I have a test tomorrow." She nods an awkward goodbye and takes another step away.

  "Meg."

  "Yeah?" She spins on her heels. Her eyes meet mine. Her eyes scream I'm thinking about you naked.

  I motion to the couch where Drew and Kara are cuddling. "Your friend isn't in a state to drive."

  And Drew isn't in a state to do shit about that.

  How is it I'm the responsible one in this situation?

  I follow Meg to the couch.

  Kara nearly jumps off the cushion to throw her arms around Meg.

  Drew stares at Kara, his dark eyes wide and full of I want her out of that dress wonder.

  "Are you having fun?" Kara hugs Meg. "Please, tell me you aren't completely miserable."

  Meg relaxes into her friends arms. Though relax is relative. She's still tense and awkward. "Only partially."

  Kara laughs. "That's a start."

  Drew shoots me a look that says Don't get any fucking ideas about her.

  But that's a lost cause.

  I already have lots of ideas about this girl.

  She's too cute and innocent to resist.

  "I'm ready to go home," Meg says. "I can call a cab."

  "No." Kara shakes her head. "I can drive."

  Not like this she can't.

  I let them get the whole No, I'll drive; no you're drunk too out of the way, then I step in.

  "I can drive you two home," I say.

  Drew glares.

  I stare back at him. "You'd do the same."

  He nods and settles back into his seat. He shoots me that Touch her and you die look again.

  Please.

  I'm not about to touch the woman my best friend is lusting after.

  But Meg...

  Well, I don't take orders from anyone. Certainly not from Drew.

  I turn to Kara. "Your keys?"

  She pulls them from her purse. "It's a manual."

  I smirk. "That's fine. I know how to handle my stick."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kara is napping in the back seat.

  It's just me and Meg.

  And the way she stammers and turns red when she's nervous.

  Her eyes catch mine, and her blush deepens.

  She's picturing me naked.

  "Should be twenty minutes," I say.

  She nods.

  "Anything else you want to discuss?"

  She clears her throat. Her fingers trail over the hem of her skirt. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  Bullshit. But I'll ease her into that. "Yes, you are."

  Her voice is clipped. "Kara i
s my closest friend. I don't know about you and Drew, or if you'll be in L.A. for a while or on the road soon. But I figure you and I are mutual friends."

  I nod. That's fair.

  "So how about we agree to never discuss this again?" she asks.

  No way in hell. I shake my head. "I can't agree to that."

  She sighs and crosses her legs the other way. "Why not?"

  That Ugh, I can't believe he's affecting me irritated tone of her voice, for one. Maybe I'm a headcase, but I like the way she isn't throwing herself at me.

  It's been forever since I've had a conversation with a woman that didn't go straight to please fuck me, hot rocker boy.

  I smile. "You're too cute when you blush."

  There it is, that irritation. She frowns.

  She bites her tongue and tugs at her skirt. "Let's pretend it never happened."

  "If it bothers you that much." And it does. I stop at the next red light. We're almost to the freeway. That doesn't give me much time. "It's not a big deal."

  "Right."

  "Nothing you haven't done before."

  "Of course." She clears her throat. Again, she uncrosses and crosses her legs.

  Fuck.

  She's a virgin.

  No wonder she was staring dumbstruck.

  God damn. It's been a long, long time since I've been someone's first.

  There's something about introducing a woman to pleasure—

  I'd better keep my thoughts on the road or I'm going to crash this car.

  "I've had boyfriends," she protests. "We did... all sorts of stuff."

  And she's insecure about being a virgin.

  Fuck, that's adorable.

  "There's no shame in lacking experience," I tell her. The light turns.

  "I know, but I don't."

  I cock a brow.

  She clears her throat and motions to the light. "It's none of your business."

  I tap the gas pedal, head onto the freeway, and change gears until we're zooming. There. The car doesn't need my attention for a while. Let's test these claims of hers. "What's your favorite sexual position?"

  "Missionary."

  She's so full of shit.

  "Second favorite?" I ask.

  She opens her mouth like she's about to speak, but no words come out. Instead, her tongue slides over her lips.

  She's back to thinking about me naked.

  Fuck, the way she's staring, undressing me with her eyes-

  "I can show you a few good ones," I say.

  Her cheeks flush. She pretends as if she doesn't understand. "Excuse me?"