by Emme Rollins
“Puppet shows,” he added.
“Crazy fans in Leo’s.”
“Sword fighting with skewers.”
“It was a good day.” I squeezed his hand as we walked back to the car.
“The perfect day.”
How could you top perfection?
* * * *
When we arrived at the hotel where the rest of the band had stayed, I spotted Katie with her arms around Tyler’s neck, their lips locked as she pressed him against the side of the tour bus. It was parked in the back lot but some fans obviously had inside information because there were half a dozen girls waiting for autographs—and whatever else they could get their hands on. Most likely, Rob Burns. They all looked very expectant and hopeful and they were all ignoring Katie and Tyler’s overtly public display of affection.
“They’re going to be all over you.” I sighed, pulling the Kia around to the other side of the bus, giving us a few moments reprieve.
“It’ll be okay.” He touched my hair, stroking gently. “It’ll be over in minutes, I promise.”
And he was right. He signed autographs on note pads, CDs, tour programs, even signed his likeness on one girl’s upper arm with a Sharpie, which she swore she was going straight to the tattoo parlor to make permanent. It was a whirlwind of laughter, talking, kisses and photographs, but when it was over, the girls left the same way they had come, in a tight, giggling circle, making their way back to the front of the hotel.
“I thought I saw you!” Tyler peeked his head around the back of the tour bus. “Sorry about the ambush. We kept shooing them away but they’d just come back again. Like damned mosquitoes.”
“It’s all right.” Rob shrugged, pulling the backpack he’d bought at the thrift shop off his shoulder. “Toss this in back? I need to say goodbye to Sabrina.”
“Katie’s here,” Tyler said to me, coming over to get Rob’s bag. “Bet you two have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Looks like it.” I pointed to his neck. “Is that lipstick or a hickey?”
“Probably both.” He grinned.
“Here.” Rob handed over his bag. “See ya inside.”
“Make it count.” Tyler clapped him on the shoulder before he disappeared with Rob’s backpack around the back of the bus again.
“I intend to.” Rob turned to me once his friend and band mate was gone, and I felt a slow sinking, like an anchor settling in the roiling bottom of my belly. This wasn’t happening. I was dreaming still. I would wake up in my bed, groggy from sleeping in far later than I was used to, trying to hold on to the edge of a dream so amazing it couldn’t possibly be real.
“Bree!” Katie squealed, coming around the corner and at me full-tilt. Rob didn’t have time to even put his arms around me properly before she bowled into me like Tigger on Pooh. I laughed, hugging her as she squealed again and started whispering in my ear so Rob couldn’t hear, all the things she and Tyler had done over the past three days. They’d had an exciting weekend too, although their list of events included things and events I never could have guessed, including Greek Town casinos, something about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a Wal-Mart greeter named Gerald.
“Slow down!” I insisted, grabbing her arms and pushing her away so I could see her face. She was flushed and bright-eyed, her blond hair pulled back into a fast ponytail. “Let’s talk after they leave, okay? Then you can tell me everything.”
“I’ll have to tell you on the phone.” Katie’s eyes lit up from the inside and she bounced around like a three-year-old who had to pee and couldn’t hold it one more minute. “Because I’m going on tour with Trouble!”
“You’re—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I blinked at her, unbelieving. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe.” She grinned. “But Tyler said I could. How could I say no?”
I glanced at Rob, leaning with one shoulder against the side of the bus, arms crossed over his chest, feet crossed at the ankles, just watching us. How indeed?
“But what about…” I was going to say her job, her family, but Katie was currently unemployed—she’d lost her job as a dental assistant just last month, when the practice closed down and the dentist moved to Texas. And while her mother still lived in Michigan, somewhere up north, her father had lived out in California since her parents’ divorce when we were in junior high, and her brother worked in advertising somewhere on the east coast.
“I know!” She laughed, hugging me again. “I don’t have anything to stay for—except you. And I thought… maybe…”
Katie looked between me and Rob, not finishing her thought.
“I’ll miss you.” I put my arms around her, squeezing hard, getting that strange dream-like feeling again. This couldn’t be real. My best friend was going on tour with Trouble? “Call me. A lot. Email. Text me. Oh my god, Katie…”
“I know, I know!” She kissed me on the cheek. “The tour’s over in April. After that…”
“You’ll invite me to the wedding?” I laughed.
“After that, I don’t know.” She shrugged one shoulder, still grinning. “But I can’t not go. Come on, Bree—on tour with Trouble? It’s a story I’ll tell my grandkids some day!”
“Not sure that’s a story that you should tell your grandkids.”
“I’ll tell them the PG-13 version.”
Katie’s voice lowered to a real whisper. “Tyler said Rob was going to ask you to come along.”
I nodded then shrugged.
“Are you kidding me?” Her eyes widened. “Bree! Come on!”
“It’s complicated.” I tried to express just how complicated with my eyes because I felt Rob watching us and didn’t want to go into it. Not then, right there, in front of him.
Tyler was single—had never been married, in fact. And I didn’t say anything to Katie, but I wondered how often he invited a girl along on the road. And I wondered how long that might last, after two, three, four, half a dozen shows. How long before he got bored and started looking for another girl to invite along instead?
I didn’t want to believe it, but Practical Sabrina knew too much about the way the real world worked for her own good.
“I’m happy for you, Katie.” I put my arms around her one more time, giving her a long, hard hug. “Be good. Tell Tyler I said goodbye.”
Goodbye. That was a word I didn’t want to say again.
Katie went, leaving me alone with Rob. She waved one last time before going around to the front of the bus. I looked up at the tinted windows, wondering if they were watching us. Tyler, now Katie, and the rest of the band. Who else was on the bus? Did all the band members invite a girl along to keep them company?
That last question escaped my lips before I could even think.
“Sometimes.” Rob put his arms around my waist, pressing me against the side of the bus, and I realized, like this, we were out of the view of prying eyes looking out the darkened windows above. “Some of us more than others.”
“Tyler?” I raised my eyebrows.
He shrugged. “He’s a repeat offender.”
“You?” I didn’t even want to ask, but there it was.
“No, Sabrina.” He shook his head, giving me a wry, sad smile. “I’m married, remember?”
How could I forget?
But I had, for a few days. I’d forgotten he was a rock star—well, mostly. I’d forgotten he was married. I’d forgotten he was leaving. I’d forgotten myself, my life. I’d forgotten everything. He made me want to forget everything but him, wanting him, having him.
“Who was the last girl who went on tour with you?” I asked.
“You really want to know?” He lowered his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.
“Yes.”
“My wife.” He shook his head but didn’t open his eyes.
“She hated it?” I guessed.
“No. She loved it. “Rob gave a little laugh, opening his eyes. “She had a grand old time on the road. While I was on stage, she was fucking roadies lef
t and right. Had to fire half the damned crew.”
“Oh.” I put my head on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
I felt his hand in my hair and closed my eyes, wishing we were alone, anywhere but here, suspended in time forever, just like this.
“Sabrina…” He whispered my name close to my ear. “Oh God, I can’t do this…”
I lifted my face to his, feeling tears stinging my eyes, closing my throat. Letting this man walk out of my life was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. So why was I resisting? Katie was on the tour bus, heading on an adventure with Tyler and the rest of Trouble. What was my problem?
“We did it,” I whispered, touching his cheek. He hadn’t shaved and his stubble was growing out. “One perfect day.”
“Let’s do it again right now.” He smiled, hands pressing into the small of my back. “One perfect moment…”
His lips were so close I felt the brush of them against mine as he spoke.
“One perfect kiss,” I whispered, leaning in to him, our mouths connecting, slowly opening.
Instead of thinking about how much I was going to miss this or the fact that this might well be our last kiss, I simply fell into it. It was, like he’d said, the perfect moment, and as I’d said, the perfect kiss. The rest of the world disappeared, simply faded away. We clung to each other, desperately trying to meld our bodies together, to finally become one and end this craziness once and for all.
We’d kissed so much over the last three days, my lips felt chapped and bruised, but that didn’t stop me. I still wanted more. Even if it hurt, I wanted more. I slid a hand behind his neck, under that gloriously messy mop of hair and slanted my head, giving him better access, his tongue playing with mine.
“Okay, you win.” Rob gasped as he broke the kiss. “I’ll stay. To hell with the tour. I’ll tell them I got Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or something.”
“You can’t do that. They’re all counting on you.”
“I can’t leave you.”
“You can’t stay.”
“Then come with me.”
“Oh God, Rob, we’ve been over this…” I cried. “I have my job, my house, a life here. I’m not Katie. I can’t just pick up and go.”
“Then tell me you’ll wait for me. That’s all I need.”
“I…”
“Rob? Rob Burns?”
“Yes.” He sighed, turning toward the blond in the sunglasses coming around the back of the tour bus, holding up some paper. Another fan looking for an autograph.
Rob turned toward her and I slipped away, taking a step in the other direction, not wanting to be a distraction. He was good at handling fans and it was best to leave him to it.
“They told me I could find you here.” The woman was older, I noticed, as she got up close. She wore a grey skirt and matching boots, a long Ralph Lauren wool coat over that. “Here you go.”
“Who am I signing it to?” He took the paper she gave him, holding his hand out for a pen.
“Oh I don’t want your autograph.” The woman laughed, taking off her sunglasses, and I saw she was definitely older, maybe mid-forties. “I’ve been trying to chase you down for a week. I’ve driven through three states!”
Rob looked at the paper in his hand, frowning, and I saw something change in his expression as he did.
“You’ve been served. Have a nice day!” The blond turned then and left, the heels of her boots clicking on the pavement.
“Are you being sued?” I gasped.
“Something like that.” He looked up at me, bemused.
“Don’t look at me!” I put my hands up in surrender. “I told you I wouldn’t sue you.”
“It’s divorce papers, Sabrina.” He shook them at me, a huge smile spreading over his face. “She’s divorcing me.”
I had to see for myself and he showed me. Divorce papers. His wife didn’t want to be his wife anymore. It was all there in black and white. It was officially over between them.
“She probably wants everything but the kitchen sink,” I murmured, flipping through, trying to read around the legal jargon.
“I don’t care.” Rob grabbed me, drawing me into his arms. “She can have it all. There’s only one thing I want now.”
“What’s that?” I murmured, still trying to decipher the divorce paper code.
“You!” He twirled me around and I barely kept hold of the divorce papers. “I know you can’t come with me, and I know I can’t stay… but just say you’ll wait for me. That’s all I ask.”
“Until the tour’s over?”
He nodded. “Then we can be together.”
“Where? Here or there? Rob, it’s—”
“I don’t care.” He kissed me quiet. “We’ll work it out somehow. Just say you’ll wait.”
What else could I say?
“Yes, I’ll wait.” I put my arms around his neck, divorce papers still in my hands. “But I need to tell you something.”
“Uh-oh.” His eyebrows rose as I gestured for him to bend close, closer, so my mouth was pressed against his ear.
“Three little words,” I whispered. I could have sworn he was trembling. “I—”
“That’s all I need to hear.” He kissed me again and like Sleeping Beauty waking from her dream, I opened my eyes and he was there. Still there.
And he was mine.
About the Author
Emme Rollins is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of New Adult/Mature Young Adult fiction. She’s been writing since she could hold a crayon and still chews her pen caps to a mangled plastic mess. She did not, however, eat paste as a kid.
She has two degrees, a bachelor’s and a master’s, one of which she’s still paying for, but neither of which she uses out in the “real world,” because when she isn’t writing, she spends her time growing an organic garden to feed her husband and children (and far too many rabbits and deer!) where they live on twenty gorgeous forested acres in rural Michigan.
She loves tending her beehives (bees are wonderful pollinators and Hello!? Honey!) and keeping up with her daily yoga practice and going for long walks in the woods with her boxer, Rodeo, who loves chasing squirrels almost as much as Emme loves writing!
Emme loves hearing from fans, so feel free to use the contact page to connect with her.
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ROCK ME: WICKED
By Arabella Quinn
Chapter One
Alex sits on the edge of my bed, strumming his guitar slowly. I lie snuggled under the covers watching his fingers gently caressing the strings. His other hand runs up and down the neck of the guitar, pressing the strings and lovingly coaxing out the seductive melody. Each stroke of his fingers sends a jolt of desire straight to my aching core.
He watches me, staring straight into my soul. He quietly sings the words to the song, but I barely listen to them. I don't have to; I know they are meant just for me.
My body burns for his touch. I want to feel his sinfully wicked fingers gliding all over me, enticing sweet music from my yearning body. My pussy is alrea
dy slickened with the hot juices of my feverish desire. It throbs with anticipation.
I had been mesmerized by his fingers expertly working the guitar, but when my eyes are compelled to meet his own, my stomach flutters. The intensity of his stare is fierce. There is no doubt that he will take me. I almost gasp at this knowledge.
His voice is sultry and sexy as he sings the words, telling me that I am his. My hands slip inside my pajamas; I cannot wait any longer, the torture is too exquisite. I moan softly as my fingers slide against my desperate and swollen clit. He notices my moan and my flushed face, but he keeps strumming his guitar. His voice never wavers.
I try to hold back, but it is impossible. The need I feel is palpable. I twist under the bed sheets as my fingers press deeper. The jolts of desire I feel are gathering and deepening into a concentrated mass of white-hot lust.
He has stopped playing the guitar, but the music continues. He is sliding across the bed towards me, beautifully naked. I admire the slight curl in his dark brown hair, the piercing blue eyes, and the rugged jawline roughened with stubble. He was always so handsome.
He slips inside the covers with me and I reach to pull him close. I trace my fingertips across the pattern of the tattoo on his upper arm. My hands skim over his strong arms and glide over his smooth broad chest. We begin to kiss as my hand slips lower.
Our lips lock together passionately, as if we had been separated for ages. I part my lips inviting his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues entwine, as I taste him once again. It has been so long. My head begins to spin as the kiss drowns me in its intoxicating bliss.
His hands run along my skin, leaving behind a trail of fiery abandon. Our bodies are pressed intimately together; I can feel his cock straining against my belly, his need as all consuming as my own. I shiver with anticipation as his hand gently, almost reverently, cups my breast. I groan against his mouth as a thumb swipes across my hardened nipple. I thrust my chest into his hand, and when he gives my nipple a pinch, a shock of electric bliss sizzles deep in my pussy.
He breaks our kiss as I press my sex against his leg. I am almost mindless in my overwhelming need. His mouth closes over my breast; his tongue flicking my taut nipple mercilessly. Pleasure washes over me, heating my insides to a boiling frenzy.