Flirting with the Rock Star Next Door

by Nadia Lee

  I tried to regain control of my breathing, my vision orgasm-hazy. He carried me to bed, kissing me hard. He tasted like me, and I shivered at the raw desire shooting through me.

  He laid me on the bed and got rid of all of our clothes in a few impatient movements. After sheathing himself in a condom, he spooned me, his hard cock pressing against my backside. Kisses rained down on my neck and shoulders, and I bit my lip at the intimacy of the moment. This didn’t feel like just sex. It felt like more. But all I could do was immerse myself in the lavish attention Killian showered on me.

  He gripped my breast and teased it, while his cock drove into my slick depths, filling me and making my breath shudder.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet and hot,” he said, his breath fanning against the nape of my neck.

  A moan tore from my throat. I’d never been this turned on or in tune with another person before.

  Killian moved. And I gripped him, moving my pelvis to match his rhythm as pleasure as thick and sweet as honey flowed through me.

  I cried out his name as his hand slipped between my legs and rubbed against my clit. My toes curled, and my mind went empty of everything but the ecstasy shattering through me.

  “Emily. My Emily,” Killian said against me as he came.

  Every muscle in my body went limp, and I started to slip into sleep. I blinked, tried to resist, but Killian ran his large, hot hand along my arm and kissed behind my ear. “Get some sleep. You’ve been up late for days.”

  “But…” Sleep sounded so good. I couldn’t remember why I wanted to resist his suggestion. But something in the back of my mind said I should get up.

  “I’m going to hold you. We’re both going to sleep.”

  Getting up meant giving up the warm space between his arms. An unbearable thought. I snuggled closer, ignoring the part of my mind that wanted me to go back downstairs.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Emily

  I opened my eyes. The bedroom was fairly bright.

  Too bright. Mild panic shot through me, but I told myself it couldn’t be that late. The sun was up earlier and earlier these days. I checked the time.

  A little after eleven—

  Oh shit!

  I jumped out of bed. Killian was already gone. Eek! Why didn’t he wake me up?

  He came into the room, carrying two mugs. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  The aroma of coffee managed to penetrate the alarms going off in my head. “Okay, you’re forgiven,” I said, taking the proffered mug. Getting upset with him wouldn’t do a thing, and if I was mad at him, it would be weird to accept the coffee.

  “Forgiven…?”

  “You let me sleep in! It’s late in the day.” I needed to watch the Amazon Kindle chart. Not because staring at it would make a difference. But that was all I could do right now, and I had to do something. It was like a football fan watching his favorite team play in the Super Bowl—staring at each second, wide-eyed and sweaty-fisted, even though he couldn’t do anything about the outcome of the game.

  But unlike the fan, I could do something. Dump more money into ads or something, although it’d take at least two or three days before I could see the result.

  “You needed the rest,” Killian said. “Don’t you feel a lot better now?”

  Why did he have to be right? “Yeah…”

  “Besides, what would you have done if you’d gotten up early? You said everything was scheduled to go out automatically.”

  I took a sip of coffee. He’d already had at least one cup, so it seemed unfair for me to talk about this without caffeine, even though I did feel much better after a good night’s sleep. “Sit in front of my computer and refresh the screen to see how my book’s doing,” I mumbled. And my fingers were itching to do exactly that, even as I was trying to take in the caffeine I needed to function.

  “I’m sure your mom’s doing that. And I did too.”

  My mouth dried as nerves jittered. Actually, everything inside me jittered, unsteady and fragile. He didn’t say I’d won the bet. But then, this was just the first day. I should relax for the next two hours—at least—for the Amazon rankings to be updated. And he was right about Mom. She checked how my book was doing even more obsessively than me, so she could have her revenge against Dad vicariously.

  “If you need help relaxing, I can always rise to the occasion,” Killian said.

  I laughed, appreciating his attempt to distract me. “You did enough of that yesterday.” I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “Literally.”

  “I should be used to this, but I never can just relax.”

  And it wasn’t just about the bet. I’d never been able to just sit back and chill when I had a new book coming out. But this time, the stakes were so much higher. The bet weighed heavily. Holly Stein was waiting for a text from either me or Dad so she could go ahead and have the ads published. And if I lost and the full-page ads went out as Dad wanted, they’d be the ultimate slap in the face to my readers and all hardworking romance authors. I’d have to get a new identity to hide from all the hate I’d get.

  Or tell everyone the truth about the bet.

  But that seemed stupid on its own. It was ridiculous to make a bet like that, especially when you weren’t a hundred percent certain you could win. I’d done it out of anger and stubborn pride, but those were dumb, dumb reasons. And not everyone would see my post about the story behind the ads. So I’d still end up being the most hated romance author ever.

  But My Fair Molly had just become available in the Amazon store. I was being much too impatient thinking that it should be number one right this moment.

  “Hey, you care,” Killian said. “I know the bet is part of it, but I also think you care a lot about how your fans receive your work.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  I set the pillows so I could lean against the headboard comfortably. Killian settled down next to me with his coffee.

  “I just want them to laugh and have fun with the book, you know?” I said. “Nothing brightens my day like getting an email from a fan telling me my books made her laugh or made her feel better after a long, hard day.”

  “They’ll love your new book, too.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder. It was lovely and comforting to be able to share the moment with somebody who respected my work. “Do you feel this nervous when you release a new album?”

  “Of course.” He held my hand in his, running his thumb gently along my fingers. “We think it’s great stuff. We want everyone to love it. But tastes can change, or the timing isn’t right… Lots of things can make or break how the songs are received. It’s hard to put a piece of ourselves out there because we’re vulnerable.”

  Yeah, I thought. That’s it. I finished my coffee. Killian got a call and went downstairs to take it. So I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a quick shower.

  Afterward, trying to breathe slowly, I went to the living room to check my laptop. I told myself I’d be okay as long as I was in the top ten at the moment, although a small part of me knew that was a lie. Nothing less than number one would do.

  Before I could open my laptop, my phone started ringing. It was Mom.

  Oh shit. She didn’t usually call me on the day of the launch unless something was wrong.

  Please don’t let it be another Dad’s Cheating on Mom drama, please please please…

  On the other hand, it might be something worse. Like all my ads were rejected or my newsletter service server went down.

  My stomach in an ugly knot that made me want to vomit, I hit the green button.

  “Hi, Mom.” My voice quavered a little.

  “Oh my God!” She let out a squeal loud enough to fry my phone’s speaker. “Oh my God!”

  “What happened?” My heart started to beat faster. My mouth dried until it felt like it was full of dust. It was either really good news or bad. She had to tell me which before I lost my mind. “What?”

&n
bsp; “It’s number one! I just checked! It’s number one!”

  The words trickled into my brain, but my mental gears got stuck for a second. All thought vanished, and I couldn’t feel anything.

  “I screencapped it! I sent it to you and your dad! You need to email Holly and have her put out the ads!” Mom laughed. “I can’t wait! I can’t even sit still.”

  “Oh my God!” I said finally, repeating what Mom had said in lieu of greeting. “Oh my God!”

  “I know, right?”

  “Thank you, Mom! I gotta go!”

  “Of course. Celebrate! Woohoo!”

  The phone slipped from my shaking hand and fell on the table next to the laptop. Then I started jumping, my fists up in the air. I screamed, “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Killian came into the room, looking at me curiously. I ran and jumped on him, my heart swelling until it felt like it’d explode with joy and triumph. I laughed, breathless, my face hot.

  “I did it! Mom just said I topped the chart!”

  A huge grin split his gorgeous face, his eyes bright as the corners crinkled. “I knew it! Congratulations!”

  He wrapped his arms around me. Our mouths met in a kiss that ended in a laugh.

  “You’re shaking,” Killian said.

  “I’m just in shock.” It was one thing to dream of making it, but something else to have it happen for real. All the hard work, all the anxiety and insomnia—and that damned running!—had paid off. And I got to celebrate my victory with everyone when Dad paid for the ads, admitting that he was wrong and romance freakin’ rocked.

  “I thought you had everything in place to make it happen.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t sure. You never know how a book is going to do. And I was certain Dad would do whatever he could to sabotage me.”

  “Sabotage?” Killian tilted his head. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Oh yeah. More times than I can count. But it doesn’t matter now.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. We have to celebrate. And I”—he turned and indicated the kitchen—“just happen to have a bottle of Dom chilling in the fridge.”

  I stared at him. “When did you get it?”

  “Yesterday. I had a feeling.”

  Air clogged in my throat. I couldn’t believe how he could be so certain when I hadn’t been. And it sent a warmth through me that spread everywhere in my body and ended in my heart. “You’re awesome,” I said, my voice thick.

  “Hey, you’re the one who’s number one.” He kissed my forehead. “Let me pour the champagne.”

  He pulled the blue-green bottle out from the fridge and two flutes from the cabinet, then brought them to the dining table. He expertly uncorked the bubbly wine, muscles flexing under those forearm tattoos, and as I watched him, my entire torso fluttered with something that felt like anticipation, surprise and maybe even love. He poured two flutes and handed me one.

  “To my very successful girlfriend,” he said.

  My cheeks and neck warm, I clinked my glass with his. I liked the way he called me his girlfriend. A lot. It made our relationship feel that much more concrete and real. The obvious and logical next step toward making this more than a fling. Something worth moving to Dallas for.

  “How do you want to celebrate?” he asked.

  “Other than the champagne?” I sipped it, let the bubbles fizzle in my mouth and throat, coat my tongue with mellow flavor. Dom tasted like gold, and it was worth every penny of its exorbitant price.

  He nodded. “This is sort of…anemic.”

  Spoken like a true rock star. I took a moment to consider. I’d never really celebrated big writer career wins. My writer friends lived too far away, and nobody else really understood why it mattered, especially my exes. As for other types of milestones… The ones my dad had thought worthwhile had been celebrated, at his discretion, the way he saw fit. My preferences hadn’t been much of a factor.

  I looked at Killian. He was gazing at me like he’d do anything I wanted—like I was the center of his universe, the reason for his existence. Something sweet and effervescent fluttering in my belly, I said, “I want to hear you sing…and dance with you.”

  “I thought you didn’t really like music,” he said, surprised.

  “But I like it when you sing. You were super-hot on that karaoke night.”

  He finished the rest of his champagne in a couple of big gulps. “Well, if you insist…”

  Rising, he extended a hand. I laid mine on it and felt his strong fingers close.

  He sang a song I didn’t recognize, but I didn’t care. The husky timbre of his voice stroked my spine, sending shivers running up it. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and we moved to the sweet melody like we’d danced to his singing a thousand times before.

  He’d been incandescent on the stage, the crowd going crazy for him. Now, with only me as an audience, his performance was intimate. He was singing only for me, his body against mine, his breath fanning the side of my neck as he crooned one love song after another, making my heart throb, my insides hot and liquid.

  And I finally realized—and accepted—that I was in love with this rock star.

  Chapter Forty

  Emily

  My phone pinged and buzzed nonstop. I ignored it while we had our champagne and danced. But eventually I had to take a look at what all those messages were about. They might be just a bunch of “congrats,” but they might be “Oh shit, something went wrong.”

  Besides, I needed to contact Holly with the screencap Mom sent as proof. Since it was easiest, I texted her.

  –Me: I won the bet against my dad. Here’s a screencap of me being number one on Amazon. Please have the ads go out this weekend. Thanks.

  I then sat in front of the coffee table and checked my messages and email, responding to them as quickly as possible. The phone rang with a call from Dad. I smirked. Should I bother or not? Well…maybe I should answer. And gloat. It could be part of the celebration.

  “Yeah?” I said, my tone all smug. But he deserved that.

  “Welp, looks like you finally hit number one.”

  I frowned. He didn’t sound angry. More like…self-satisfied. What the hell? “Yeah, you lost,” I said, in case he’d forgotten about the bet. Or thought he could wriggle his way out of honoring it.

  “No, not really.”

  “Oh yes you did. I’m number one, which you said I’d never achieve. So Holly’s going to use your money to put out those ads.” And Killian and I would be dancing with the ads spread out around us.

  “I didn’t lose anything. I’m the one who made sure you could be the best you could be.”

  What the hell? “How? With your fake nasty review team? Or with your very real nasty attitude?”

  “Without me to motivate you, you would’ve been just a mediocre writer. Most novelists are lucky to make twenty grand a year. But thanks to me, you’re already a bestseller. Because I lit a fire under your butt and made you work hard!”

  For a moment, I couldn’t even react. It was that ridiculous. But then, I should’ve expected he’d find a way to twist this so that no matter what happened he was still the winner. “So if I hadn’t hit number one, that’s when you would’ve lost?”

  “No, because I would’ve won the bet.”

  Heads I win, tails you lose. It pissed me off, but I knew the longer I argued with him, the angrier I’d get. And he would never realize or accept he was wrong. It was best to cut this short, because my inbox was exploding. They mattered more than him, which was sad but true. “You know what? I never needed you to be successful. So screw you and your idiotic justifications.”

  He tsked. “Come on, now,” he said. “Credit where credit’s due.”

  Of course. It was all him. All through my life, everything I’d accomplished was due to him, not due to my hard work. Suddenly, I was too furious. Just sick of his trying to steal the spotlight from every good moment in my life. “Fuck you,” I said between clenched teeth. “Don’t ever contact me
again, because I don’t need your brand of motivation. And you know what? I’d be a lot happier and more successful without you and your toxicity in my life!” I hung up, a growl stuck in my throat.

  My phone pinged again, jerking my attention from my rage. A text from Holly popped up.

  –Holly: Congratulations, and thank you for the screenshot. I will have the ads go out as agreed.

  I stared at the text, then let my lips twist with bitter triumph. It didn’t matter how Dad had tried to spin this. This weekend would be extra delicious, since I’d be at the signing to celebrate this with my friends. And Killian and I would have delicious, mind-blowing sex—again—on Sunday when I got back to Kingstree.

  * * *

  Killian

  While Emily made sure nothing urgent required her attention, I propped my feet on a chair and picked up my phone off the dining table to look at her social media profile. Her team had to have posted about her topping the chart for the first time. I had a secret private profile that I used online, and I wanted to like the post and congratulate her there, although I’d already celebrated with her in person.

  The graphic thanking her fans for their support in helping her hit number one was the first thing I saw. I liked it, then put “Congrats!” And because I couldn’t resist, I added three hearts and five stars as well.

  I scrolled down to look at the pictures her team had been posting to promote My Fair Molly. I should probably buy a copy to support her, even though I wasn’t sure if I’d ever read it. No matter how much I told myself it was fiction, I couldn’t help picturing the real-life Molly and Ryan, people I knew, in the roles. And that wasn’t going to be good—

  I went still. The next photo was of me and Emily at the dining table in my home. It was taken while Dev and his harem were in town, that meal when I’d said Emily’s books were perfect the way they were. The moment was etched into my brain because it felt that special. I was looking at Emily, and she was smiling, her fingers brushing a corner of my mouth. When I’d looked into her eyes, I’d felt a connection so deep, so intimate that the people around us didn’t matter anymore. Maybe that was why I hadn’t noticed anyone taking the picture. It also had her book The Very Bossy Engagement. Although it was in the corner of the shot, you couldn’t miss it.