Rockstar Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle New Adult BBW)

by Emme Rollins

  Asher left some cash on the table and tried to see if there was a way to get backstage, but the one door to the back was locked. He went outside.

  “How do I get to the back?” he asked the bouncer. The lounge was part of a line of storefronts, and he couldn’t see a way around them. He needed to see her.

  “You wanna talk to Trixie?” the bouncer asked, looking like he had seen this same scenario a hundred times before. Asher felt his face grow hot.

  “Yeah,” Asher said.

  “Around the corner and down the alley. But hey. Piece of advice.”

  “Yeah?” Asher said.

  “Don’t bother. Everyone wants to talk to Trixie. Looks fine onstage, but she doesn’t get picked up easy.”

  “That’s not why I want to talk to her.” Well, that wasn’t the only reason.

  The bouncer shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Asher walked quickly down the storefronts and around the corner, turning into the alleyway. The streetlights flickered dimly and the sound of the ocean was muffled in the alleyway. He saw a door open down in the middle of the alleyway, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of a skateboard being thrown to the sidewalk. The streetlight down by the lounge illuminated the figure for just long enough for him to see. It was Trixie on the board, wearing sneakers and her red dress, her high heels clutched in one hand as she pushed her way down the street, rolling away from Asher.

  “Hey! Trixie!” Asher called. She turned the corner at the end of the alley and Asher knew she hadn’t heard him. He stopped in his tracks, uncertain. Should he even try to go after her? Maybe it would be best to wait and talk to her later. But then he remembered her face, the way she had sung the first song, the power in her voice. He remembered the way she had stood over him on stage, and just thinking about her curves made his heart race.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, sighed, and began to run after the skateboard.

  Trixie breathed deeply as she skated down the sidewalk toward the studio a few blocks away. The show had gone well, really well. If only any music producer would be interested in her jazz. She rolled up to the stairs of the warehouse-style building and pushed the door open, walking down the hall past all the other tiny rooms to the small studio space that was hers, just hers.

  The key turned in the door and she opened it up, flicking on the small lamp with the colored lampshade. Pink and green light cast shadows against the walls covered in hangings and photos of her favorite bands. A keyboard sat in the corner of the room, her laptop and recording equipment clustered next to it. This was where she made her real music, the stuff she loved. She tossed her heels into the corner of the padded room. Home at last.

  “Hey.”

  Trixie shrieked, whirling around and brandishing her skateboard like a baseball bat. She knocked over a glass of water on the side table with the board. The glass shattered on the floor, splashing water and sending sharp fragments everywhere. Standing in the doorway like an apparition was Asher, in a black buttoned up shirt and jeans.

  “Whoa!” he said, holding up both hands. “Don’t kill me.”

  “Jesus Christ,” she breathed, setting down the skateboard slowly against the wall. Her heart was racing.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry.” He knelt down and began to pick up the bigger pieces of glass. “I’ll clean this up.”

  “What the fuck?” Trixie ran her hand over her forehead. Adrenaline pumped through her body, and she couldn’t stop herself from trembling. She saw Asher sweeping the glass up with his bare hands. “Don’t—don’t. You’ll cut yourself.”

  “Do you have a broom?”

  “Um…”

  “Or something? I’m sorry.” Asher held shards of glass in his hands.

  She went over to the table and got a manila folder and a washcloth. He was pushing the glass together into a pile.

  “Here, let me get it,” she said.

  “No, please,” he said, taking the folder from her and scraping the pieces of glass up, tossing them into the trash. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “I just followed you,” Asher said. He finished wiping up the water from the floor, a frown on his face. “You might need to vacuum to get the tiny pieces. Do you have a vacuum?”

  “Followed me?” Trixie asked, ignoring his last sentence.

  “Um, yeah,” he said, hanging his head sheepishly. “From Breakers. You’re so talented,” he continued, his face growing brighter. “I really liked the last song you did. It was so soulful.”

  A host of emotions ran through Trixie’s body. He had watched her sing.

  “You followed me on my board? What, did you run after me?”

  “Yeah,” Asher said. She realized now that he was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You were really good.”

  “Thanks,” she said. Dizziness threatened to overcome her. She tilted on the balls of her feet.

  “I mean really good,” Asher said. “I liked your set at the show, I mean, it was really fun and you pumped up the crowd.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice soft.

  “But your songs tonight—they were amazing. Freaking amazing. You’re amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She hated compliments, didn’t know what to do with them. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, her legs. Every part of her seemed awkward, as though she was back in middle school, when her body was just beginning to leave the rest of her behind in a torrent of uneasy growth.

  “I wanted to tell you, and the bouncer said—well, then I ran around and saw you skating away—I just hope I didn’t scare you.”

  “Are you fucking kidding?” she said, exhaling and leaning against the studio wall. Her muscles finally relaxed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry,” Asher said. He looked like a guilty kid.

  “So. Yeah. What the hell are you doing here?” Trixie asked. “What the hell were you doing at Breakers?”

  “I wanted to see you again.” He clasped his hands in front of him awkwardly, and bit his lip. God, he was sexy. Trixie shook the thoughts out of her mind.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Trixie said. She turned away from him and flipped on her computer. Her hands were sweating on the palms, and she hoped he didn’t see the traces the moisture made on the case. Or her fingers trembling as she entered her password.

  “Why not?”

  “I think you know why not,” Trixie said. She waited for her computer to start up, studiously avoiding Asher’s gaze. A sexy guy with a model girlfriend. Not exactly her type.

  “I heard about the tour,” Asher said, stepping forward. He was too close. She could smell him, his deodorant through his shirt, the sweat from his run after her.

  “What about it?” Trixie turned on her speakers. A slow blues song filtered out from both speakers. She didn’t want to be tempted by him. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. Breathe in, Trixie. Breathe out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Focus.

  “How you’re not opening for us anymore,” Asher said. He slid his hand across her shoulder, down her back. “So there’s nothing—”

  Trixie breathed in but there was no air in her lungs. She felt the world around her slip out of place. The music seemed to stall and all she could hear was a buzzing sound. A hiss in her ears.

  “What?” she said. She said it quietly, so that it wouldn’t be real, so that she could pretend that she had heard him wrong. But then she looked up into his eyes and saw the realization sweep over his face. It was true. She couldn’t believe it. It was true.

  “What are you talking about?” she whispered, but she knew what he would say before he even opened his mouth to speak.

  “What?” Trixie looked up at him. “What are you talking about?” The blood had gone from her cheeks, and her eyes were hollow. From the speakers a saxophone wailed.

  “The Europe tour,” Asher said softly. The look in her eyes frightened him, and under his hand her muscle
s tensed. “You know…”

  “I don’t know,” Trixie said. She turned to him, her body rigid, and although she did not even reach his shoulder he felt like he was in a room with a trapped animal. “What do you mean, we’re not opening for you anymore?”

  “Sorry,” Asher said. His hand dropped to his side, but she didn’t even seem to notice, her eyes fixed on him. “I thought…Pat told us…”

  “Told you what?”

  “Just that. That’s all he told us.”

  Trixie snapped out of her trance and dug through her purse.

  “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. She turned her purse over sideways. Coins spilled out onto the floor, scattering everywhere. Lipstick and hair clips fell, ignored. “I fucking told him. I told them we couldn’t change the schedule. I told them…”

  She shook her purse.

  “FUCK. Where’s my phone?” Her eyes darted around wildly. Her hand went to her laptop and slammed the top down, cutting off the song mid-lyric. The stillness in the air felt stifling in the tiny room.

  Asher leaned over and picked it up from where she had set it next to the lamp.

  “Here—” he said, but she had already snatched it out of his hand.

  “I swear to God, I swear to God…” The words came out like a chant under her breath. Trixie strode out of the room, already dialing the number.

  Asher closed the door quietly behind him and followed her down the hall and out to the parking lot. She had the phone to her ear, pacing underneath a streetlight thirty or so feet away. He kept his distance and heard her breathlessly asking the person on the other end of the phone what was going on. Hearing the answer, she closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the night sky, her facial features twisted in a hard grimace.

  “But you can’t just—” “Why can’t we do it without—” “Because I’ve planned this for months, that’s why!”

  Asher leaned against the doorway, listening to the snippets of conversation. He kicked at the crumbling tar of the pavement. He should have waited before saying anything. She shouldn’t have to hear this from him. He had fucked up. Again. Again. Suddenly he heard a terrifying wail and his eyes shot up. Trixie had her head back, her blond hair a wild tangled mess, and was howling at the night.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Her fingers clutched the phone so tightly that Asher was sure it would break. She screamed once more, and the scream turned into sobs as she sank down onto the curb just under the streetlight. Fuck.

  Asher went over to her. Her dress stretched tight over her thighs and she buried her head in her arms, balled up in anguish. God, he couldn’t bear to see her like this. He knelt down next to her and put his arms around her, pulling her close to him. His hand stroked her back, her head.

  “Why?” Trixie moaned. “I put this whole thing together. Why?”

  “It’s okay,” Asher said. He clasped her head in his hand, pressing a kiss into her tangled hair, holding her tight. Her smell, feeling her soft curved body under her dress, aroused him to no end, even as he knew it shouldn’t. Her shoulders heaved under his arms in quick sobs. “It’ll be okay.”

  “No it won’t!” Trixie pushed him away then, suddenly. Her eyes were red and bright with tears, her smoky makeup running down her cheeks. Some of the white strands of her hair had stuck to the moisture on her cheeks and darkened. Asher reached out to brush them away and she swatted his arm, hatred clouding her face.

  “Stay the fuck away from me!” Trixie shoved him off balance, and he fell back, his hands reaching out to catch himself in a sprawl. She stood up over him, a vision of ferocity in her red dress.

  “You have everything!” she yelled, tears still streaming down her face. “You have a tour and a—and a fucking supermodel girlfriend! And you have all the goddamn groupies you want! So stay the fuck away because you can’t— have—me!”

  She turned away, biting her sobs back, and strode towards the door of the studio. Asher sat frozen on the ground, his brain trying to put together the pieces in his head. He couldn’t have heard her right. He couldn’t. Who had told her he had a girlfriend? He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already inside the studio building, slamming the door behind her.

  Asher sat there for a minute, waiting, wanting to go inside and try to talk to her, wanting to comfort her, wanting her to emerge again in the doorway and let him hold her and explain that she had it all wrong. But tonight wasn’t the night to do it. He stood up slowly and turned away from the building. As he passed into the street he began to jog, then run, then sprint, flying down the sidewalk into the night as fast as his legs could possibly go, until his heart pounded so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear anything anymore, no, not even her voice singing in his head.

  Trixie spent the entirety of the next day in a muddled haze. At night she had tossed and turned and finally had to resort to using one of the Valium she had saved from when her wisdom teeth were pulled. Normally she hated pills, but her mind was so restless that it was almost a relief to find her body slowly losing control, slipping into a relaxed and drowsy state. That morning she woke up fuzzy and, instead of making herself oatmeal, pulled out Kate’s sugary cereal and helped herself to two bowls. It was gross and delicious and after she finished she tossed the bowl in the sink in disgust. She could do dishes later.

  That night she sang again at Breakers. Although her eyes scanned the door whenever she saw someone come in, Asher was nowhere to be found. Her mind went to war with itself. Who cares? He had a girlfriend. He’s off limits. Remember?

  I just want to see him again so I can punch him in the face.

  Oh, okay. That’s fine.

  She sang listlessly, and the applause at the end of her set didn’t match the fervor of the previous night. Drained of energy, she skated to the studio and went inside. God, it was hot. The one problem with studio insulation is that it insulated everything, and right now the room felt like breathing wet cotton balls. She opened the door and pointed the fan outside, trying to get circulation. It was a bit better.

  She scratched her ear and pulled herself up onto the stool in front of her computer, waiting for it to start up. Her eyes fell on the acoustic guitar hanging on its stand in the corner. How long had it been since she’d played anything on it? Too long. Swiveling around, she reached forward and grasped the smooth long neck in her hands. She plucked a note, and the string vibrated sourly. Damn thing was so out of tune. She twisted the peg and tried again, adjusting each string’s tightness until the notes rang out clear and bright.

  The devil take my soul

  cause I want you

  to do bad things to me.

  Trixie leaned back against the studio wall, her fingers strumming the chords slowly as she sang. She had written this song after breaking up with Jack. Initially she thought she had made a mistake by leaving him. He was a good man, after all, but there was something missing in his touch that no amount of encouragement could create. He left her to do the work and sat back to enjoy the ride. At first she liked being able to take the reins in bed, but after a while she felt like there was nothing left for her to do.

  Heaven take my heart

  cause I’m ready

  and nothing comes for free.

  She wanted someone to take her, to own her, to possess her whole body. No man had ever come close to satisfying her, except maybe the guy who had taken her virginity.

  Trixie closed her eyes, remembering the first night she had felt the hardness between her legs, the sharp pain mixed with pleasure. But back then she was too young to know what she wanted, and he was too experienced to push her into anything, so even that experience had been weak, a shadow of what sex could be. Maybe someday she would find someone who could give her what she needed. Maybe someday she’d find the person who wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  I want to be bad

  Don’t want to be good

  I want to be bad

  If only you would—

  “Trixie?”

  Trixi
e opened her eyes and had to force herself not to throw her guitar across the room. Asher was standing there, again. This time, he clutched a single red rose in his hand.

  “Trixie?”

  Asher paused, watching Trixie’s mouth set in a hard line. He wanted to kiss her now, just walk over and kiss her as hard as he could. If he did, he could expect to be slapped for his troubles, and probably worse. He didn’t mind being slapped if it was for fun, but he didn’t think Trixie was in the mood for any kind of games.

  “You know,” she said. “I think I was clear last night. I think I made myself very, very clear.”

  “I’m sorry,” Asher said. “I needed to apologize, and to explain.”

  “There’s no need to do that,” Trixie said. Her voice was flat.

  “There is,” Asher said. “Because I’ve never felt like this about anyone before—”

  Trixie pulled off her headphones and threw them into the corner with a crash, standing up in fury.

  “You have a girlfriend! Go cheat on her with your groupies if you want!” Her fists shook at her sides. Asher’s mouth dropped open.

  “I don’t— I broke up with my girlfriend a few days ago. Before I met you. That’s what I wanted to explain.”

  “Great, awesome. So what?” Trixie asked, although Asher could see that she was shaken by what he had told her. He spoke quickly, to try to repair the damage.

  “So I wanted to ask you out. On a date.”

  “A date.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. When you did that tailslide—” Asher said, the words tumbling out of his mouth quickly, spilling forward before he could stop them. He set the rose on the side table, his hand wiping at his forehead. “—I just, I mean, you’re so badass and beautiful at the same time. And talented. Your music—and—and— and I want you.”