Undercover Rockstar: A Bad Girls novel

by Ann, Jennifer

  When Trent drinks in my naked body, licking his gorgeous lips like he can’t wait to devour every inch, I can’t remember ever being so turned on. My body thrums with an inherent need bigger than the desire to stay employed. It’s greater than the yearning for wild sex.

  I need to be joined with Trent Risotto more than my lungs require air.

  “Down on your back,” he grunts out, motioning to the bed.

  I’m not usually one to take orders, but the rawness in his voice throws me off my game. I want to serve him in any way he asks. I want him to slam into me and use me as he sorts through his grief and whatever else is going on inside his handsome head.

  With one leg crooked, I settle on my back in a cloud of sheets that smell as deliciously dark as the man about to rock my world.

  His hungry stare sweeps over my naked body again, pupils widening like barrels of oil. “Spread those sexy legs nice and wide.”

  He hovers above me, settling his weight on his hands. His lips brush over mine with a light, fluttering kiss that blinds me with lust. When he does it again, I grip the hair behind his head and seal our mouths together, forcing my tongue past the seam of his lips. He gives in, responding with a dark groan that vibrates all the way down to my toes. He continues tasting my mouth, hot erection grinding against my belly. Holy hell, he’s one ferocious man—one I want to devour like a decadent piece of chocolate.

  Digging my fingers into his tight ass, I attempt to guide him between my thighs, desperate to relieve the building throb between my legs. He resists, unwilling to grant me access.

  “Please, Trent…I can’t wait any longer,” I pant against his mouth. “Fuck me…fill me…make me yours.”

  Lacing his fingers with mine, he leans back, pausing to hold my stare. “You’re already mine.”

  I’m breathless—dumbfounded even—when his large cock glides into me with one slow, intentional stroke until we’re blissfully joined, hip-to-hip. Filled with immeasurable pleasure, I tip my head back and release a wicked moan. His mouth glides up and down my neck, tasting, but not biting like before.

  He continues driving in and out at a slow, torturous pace while his lips explore the dip of my collarbone, the full curve of my breasts, the peaks of my nipples. The experience is nothing like the unmatched fuck-fest from this morning. Everything’s done with gentleness, like I’m made of glass, and he wants to savor every moment. At one point I catch him staring down on me with a tender look that chips away at the shield I’ve built around my heart.

  A funny sensation swells in my chest when our gazes lock. What in the holy hell is this? Why am I ready to tell him my deepest fears and regrets, including how badly I wish we would’ve met any other way?

  “You’re done getting hurt,” he declares, pressing his forehead to mine as he’s slipping in and out with relaxed finesse. “Won’t let it happen as long as you’re with me.”

  Every last cell of my body longs to believe him, wants to believe that my darkest days will stay in the past. But the chance of us having a future together—whether or not he’s peddling drugs or killing bad guys—lessens with every lie to spew from my lips. He won’t want anything to do with me once he knows the truth.

  * * *

  Sunlight streams through Trent’s bedroom window, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and nose, the gentle lines of dense eyelashes fanned against his cheeks. Passed out on his side, the normally tense lines between his eyes are non-existent, making him far less severe-looking. I trace his full lips with my fingertip, wondering what it would be like to wake up next to this beautiful man every morning, to have the freedom to touch him and taste him whenever the need arose. Legs twinned with mine, arm curled around my back, it’s like he’s claiming me even in his sleep. Even when unconscious, he’s still hard, ready for more.

  This relationship had already catapulted into dangerous territory the minute I crossed the lines drawn by my responsibilities. After the level of tenderness he exhibited, making love to me, I don’t know how to quit this. How to quit him.

  But I won’t have to worry once my cover’s blown. He’ll walk away, leaving me no other choice.

  My burner phone buzzes somewhere below the bed, having slipped out of my shorts. I carefully roll away from Trent’s hold, stretching out to pluck it off the floor. “Diana,” the bogus name used by Sgt. Kendall, flashes across the screen. I quickly silence it, unable to deal with my boss when her target’s naked at my side.

  Slipping from the bed, I cross over to where his discarded shirt lays on the floor. I throw it on, letting it fall over my thighs, submerging me in his dark, rich fragrance. Phone in hand, I head into the other room and freeze with the sight of Vaughn sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal.

  “If you’re gonna make these sleepovers a regular thing, we’ll have to stock up on popcorn and rom-com flicks,” he teases, green eyes twinkling.

  “I hope you’re cool with this,” I say, tugging at the hem of Trent’s shirt. “I don’t want there to be any tension between you guys.”

  “Are you kidding? You make us sound good and make that fucker happy. I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the surly bastard anything close to happy.”

  With a sudden giggle, I pull out the chair across from him and take a seat. “You two seem close.”

  “Known him since we were kids.”

  “Last night he told me about his sister. I understand a little better why he’s so surly.”

  Dark eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Surprised he mentioned her. Not something he likes to talk about.” Shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, he chuckles to himself. “Don’t be fooled. He could be a cranky shit-head even back in the day…before she died.”

  I almost let out a cackle, unable to picture Trent as anything else. “He mentioned the man responsible for her death is still out there. He didn’t seem willing to go into further detail, so I didn’t push it. Does he know who did it?”

  At first I think he’s going to tell me the way he steadily inhales. Then he lowers his head and shakes it. I was trained to read people, and it seems fairly obvious he damn well knows. “Better ask him. I don’t want to get in the middle of this thing with you two.”

  “This thing?” I repeat, cocking my head. “You think there’s a thing between us?”

  “You’re the first chick he’s taken into his bedroom since we all moved into this place. That’s a massive step for the big guy.”

  A balloon of warmth fills my chest until I’m sure it’ll burst from the pressure. There haven’t been other women in his bed? What the hell makes me so special?

  “You seem cool, so I probably don’t even have to waste my breath saying this, but don’t mess with his head,” Vaughn says, snapping me from my errant thoughts. I draw my eyes up to meet his, and his lips quirk with a cocky smirk. “He’s a good guy who’s been through hell, and he’s not the type to get attached to anyone. I know you just met and all, so it’s probably a little early for this talk, but the fact that he’s let you stay over with him two nights in a row means something. Something fuckin’ epic.”

  Bile climbs up my throat, hot and acidic.

  Don’t mess with his head.

  Isn’t that exactly what I’d be doing if I string him along any longer before he learns who I really am, why I’m here? Trask’s death put me through the ringer. Whatever this is with Trent can’t become anything meaningful. My heart couldn’t take it.

  Vaughn lets out a nervous chuckle. “It’s best if we keep this little chat between us. He’d murder me for saying this shit to you.” He eyes me suspiciously, like he thinks I’m about to bolt.

  Which I totally am.

  Inside I’m freaking the hell out, but I respond with a playful wink. “It’ll be our little secret.” Hands trembling, I glance down at my phone. “I gotta get going. Catch you later.”

  Vaughn says something behind me as I dart out the front door, blasted with cool morning air.

  It isn’t
until I’ve snatched the keys from the visor and started my car that I remember I’m still in Trent’s—I mean fucking Risotto’s—shirt. But if I go back into his room, I’ll lose all focus the second I’m drawn in by those captivating eyes.

  Sleeping with Trent again—getting emotionally attached—could’ve been the final nail on the coffin of my career.

  * * *

  Throughout the next two and a half weeks, I continue to tail the guys during the day, feeling equally as frustrated when they aren’t able to find anything incriminating against Bentley. I was sure they were onto something with the trucks in the shipyard, but there hasn’t been any activity since. I’d hoped they’d uncover proof that they weren’t involved in the murder my superiors are hellbent on solving.

  Since our vigilante friends seem to have taken a break, Sgt. Kendall’s up my ass more than ever, convinced the band has stopped because I’m around them all the time.

  Only I’m certain they had nothing to do with Matthews. They're too smart to have done something that obvious. And I’m determined to prove their innocence.

  Because of Declan and Vaughn’s sporadic hours, I haven’t been able to do a lot of digging around the house. And every moment Trent isn’t working, he’s at my side—whether rocking with the guys or rocking my body.

  Every damn night, I find myself getting naked with him.

  Every damn night, he does and says things that strengthens the bond between us a little more.

  No matter how hard I try to resist or make excuses to stay away.

  There must be a biological explanation as to why I’m so drawn to him, so turned on by his scent. I’m incapable of denying he’s more than a hot body to play with at this point.

  With every day that passes, I slide a little farther down a slippery slope. I’ve become just as emotionally attached to Vaughn and Declan, only in much different ways from Trent.

  The first afternoon all three men are thoroughly occupied, I search every last inch of the house, leaving Trent’s room for last. It’s exceptionally clean compared to Vaughn and Declan’s. He’s a minimalist, not having enough possessions to cause a clutter. Dark fabrics and the lingering fragrance of his woodsy deodorant contribute to the masculine aura.

  There’s nothing unusual in his dresser or nightstands. In the back of his closet, however, I find delicate picture frames packed away in a cardboard box. It’s obvious on first glance they belonged to his little sister. My chest clenches knowing they must be too painful for him to look at.

  In the first picture, his arm’s draped possessively around little Cali’s shoulders, and he’s giving an uncharacteristically sexy smile that lights his eyes and puts brilliantly white, straight teeth on display. His face was narrow, body not as defined. He wore his hair short on the sides, almost military-like. God, he was exceptionally beautiful as a teen. Yet there’s still something about his gaze that’s unquestionably hardened, probably at the hands of his abusive father.

  The next picture appears to have been taken at a house party. In the foreground, Cali’s standing with a group of guys, red cup in one hand, complex baby blues nearly a carbon copy of her older brother’s fixed on the camera. She was every bit as beautiful as Trent with strong cheekbones, full lips, and dark, shiny hair. She looks exceptionally happy, and notably sober. My gaze skips over everyone in the group, freezing when I pass another younger version of Risotto and reach the two on the end.

  Though empty, my stomach surges. Hands trembling, I bring the frame closer to my disbelieving vision.

  Liam Rooker was always attractive, protective as hell, and had a great sense of humor. Most importantly, he was like another brother—still is. He and Trask were inseparable. His sexy smirk and flirty nature never failed to do weird things to my body. Even after all these years, the memory of his lips curling as he stroked the strings of the bass, stopping every now and again to throw me a wink, sends a thrilling rush through my core.

  But it’s the smile of his best friend at his side that draws my throat tight, and doubles my vision. It’s a smile I know better than my own, and would give anything to see one last time in person. It’s a smile that reflects our shared genes, and sends a painful ache through the center of my heart. It’s a smile that reminds me of pictures I’d seen of our mother when she was back in her prime, before drugs poisoned her body, and hallowed her features.

  Trent Risotto knew my brother.

  ***

  Forty minutes later, I’m on Liam Rooker’s doorstep. The recently built contemporary mansion sits on a hill overlooking both the South Side and the Mississippi River, modern enough to look more at home in California.

  Unease tugs as my nerves as I wait for someone to answer the doorbell. Maybe in another life, I could’ve been the one living here. If the timing had been better…if Trask hadn’t died…maybe Liam would’ve eventually seen me as something other than a charity case who needed his protection. But he’s married to his soulmate, father of two adorable little boys. It’s selfish of me to wish things had gone a different way when he’s so happy.

  When my oldest friend Andie appears behind the open door, I nearly burst into tears. I wasn’t expecting to see her here, and she’s more beautiful than I remember. Thick, chestnut hair flows over her sun kissed shoulders in natural waves, identical to the hair on the little clone perched on her hip. In coordinating sundress, you’d think the mother-daughter duo were about to hit the runway.

  Andie blinks heavily, as if waking from a dream. “Sasha? Oh my god…it’s really you!”

  She bursts forward to wrap me in her free arm, crushing her daughter between us, and filling me with her familiar cherry scent. Tears fill my eyes as I squeeze her back. We’ve been through so much together, and I’ve been a shitty friend for not keeping in better touch. But now’s not the time for a long-awaited reunion.

  “I need to see Liam,” I blurt, trying to remain composed. “Is he home?”

  “Yeah, of course. Stone and I brought Kennedy over for a playdate.” She steps back, bright green eyes curious. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

  Liam appears behind her. “Sash? What the fuck?”

  Flinching with the sight of Liam’s gorgeous face, I take a step back. The reminder of what I could’ve had is equivalent to a slap across the face. Glancing from Andie to me, he shakes his head. “What’d you do to your hair, girl?”

  “Close the door,” I order, breezing in past them. “No one else can know I’m here.”

  9

  Trent

  Had the right idea when I gave up on any emotional involvement with the opposite sex years ago. They’re fucking temperamental, impossible to understand. Thought maybe Taya was different than the rest after she opened up about her family. Thought whatever connection we’ve made since was an unavoidable step toward something more. Thought she’d given me more than just her body after all this time.

  Now she’s bailed on us when we need her most.

  “She’s still not answering,” Vaughn reports half an hour before showtime, phone up to his ear. He scowls my way. “Did you say something stupid to her?”

  I drag my fingers through my hair, staring at the empty drum set. Left her sweet ass perfectly sated this morning, grinning and covered in my cum. What the fuck changed since?

  Worse yet, what if something happened to her? Bentley’s no fool—he could be onto us by now. It’d explain why he’s been laying low. Haven’t even seen any dealers around the neighborhood. But Vaughn heard from a client who works in the shipyard that those unmarked trucks pass through every few weeks.

  It means they’ll be on the move again soon.

  Don’t have time for this shit with Taya. Fucking knew it was a bad idea for us to get involved the minute I was drawn in by those captivating eyes. Should’ve pushed her out before she became too great of an addiction to kick.

  “She’ll show,” Declan insists, slapping my shoulder. “Maybe she’s dealing with something that has nothing to do
with the band—or your grumpy ass.”

  I grunt to myself, wishing it to be true. Maybe I should quit saying shit about her being mine. Maybe she’s the type that shies with any talk of commitment. Maybe it’s the reason her hot ass was single in the first place.

  Vaughn paces as the minutes tick down. I’m ready to fucking roar by the time Taya comes running at us in a leather bra and matching high-waisted shorts, hair in tight braids, eyes done up like some kind of supermodel. Damn woman makes it hard to breathe.

  But something’s wrong. I can see it in her eyes. Hell, I can sense it the same way I sensed something was about to go down right before I was almost blown sky high in the godforsaken desert.

  “Sorry I’m so late!” she cries, shuffling to a stop beside where I sit. Her gaze flits between the others, avoiding me at all costs. Vanilla fills my nostrils when she casually rests her arm on my shoulder. “You guys wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had!”

  Tension dangles in the air, thick and stifling. Declan and Vaughn exchange unsure glances with me and each other. We’ve known her long enough to pick up on her sketchy vibes.

  Vaughn’s eyes narrow on her. “You alright?”

  The edges of her mouth lift with an empty smile. “Yeah, just sorry I couldn’t get away sooner. It’s…complicated.”

  Something pulls in my chest. She’s definitely hiding something. Pisses me off that she can’t open up about it, but I’ll get it out of her later. I stand, knocking her arm away. “Could’ve answered your fuckin’ phone.”