Because I’m not ready to touch what happened in Phoenix quite yet, I change the subject quickly. “Courtney dropping her off for the night?” I ask, referring to Brenna’s mother.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Courtney’s taking a vacation with her new boyfriend. She’ll be back in a few weeks.”
I frown because I know that the obvious irritation in his voice doesn’t stem from jealousy or not wanting to take care of Brenna—he adores that kid. I’m almost one hundred percent sure he’s frustrated with Courtney because of the way his own mother left him when he was a kid. His bitterness over those memories is one of the reasons why he’s always been such a huge part of Brenna’s life. “I’m glad I got to see her. I’ve missed her,” I say, staring in the direction of the hallway. I can hear music blasting from Brenna’s room, some bubblegum boy band. “I’m surprised you even let her listen to that while she’s here,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood, and he laughs.
“You’re all she’s talked about since she came here. She’s missed you.” He lifts his hands, dragging them through his blond hair. “Fuck, I miss you, Ky.”
“It’s only been eleven days,” I point out, my voice shaking.
“That wasn’t eleven days, not when I’ve spent them thinking you were gone, Kylie. That was fucking agony.”
I stand, clenching my hands together, as I pace in front of the big screen TV. “I didn’t plan to come here, McCrae. I was more than done with you because you lied to me, and then…” My chest tightens up, and I take a deep breath, staring at his bare feet, as he gets up and comes to me.
When he touches my shoulders, I shiver. “So, what changed?” He glides his hands up, so that he can tilt my chin, and I’m forced to meet him eye-to-eye.
“I checked my home voice mail, and message after message was from you. You said things that I’ve only imagined you saying.”
“And so you came here?”
I laugh, but it sounds more like a hysterical gasp. “No. I rearranged my apartment. I wrote a bunch of letters to Sinjin. I played my guitar. Finally, my mother called—”
He stops me from continuing, pressing his rough thumbs to my lips, as the rest of his fingers massage the sides of my face. “Thought you forgot how to play,” he says in a low voice. “At least, that’s what you said back in Albuquerque.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never forget.”
He releases a deep exhale, crushing me to his chest. “Everything that I said in those messages? I meant every goddamn word. For you and that kid in there…” He points in the direction of Brenna’s bedroom. “I’d do anything. I’d give up the music and the lifestyle if you asked me to.”
A bitter ache spreads across the center of my chest. “I would never ask you to do that. You know that, don’t you? I would never make you choose between me and what you love.”
“You are what I love, Ky.” Dropping his hands to my shoulders, he continues. “I don’t know what you want from this anymore, but I know what I need. You. And don’t try to bullshit me into thinking that you don’t need me, too. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
“It’s not that simple,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second.” His voice, eyes, and even his touch are slowly breaking my heart. “All I know is that you’re all I think about. I can’t not have you in my life because you and Brenna are the only two people who give a shit about me.”
“Still doesn’t make it simple, babe.” Dragging my palm across the center of my chest, I close my eyes. “I was stupid for thinking that I could just walk away from us and pretend like the last eight years had never happened. It’s impossible.”
He bends his head, so our lips are practically touching. “Then, we start over and fix things.”
“It won’t be easy, and it sure as hell won’t be quick,” I point out.
He shrugs. “Nothing worthwhile ever is.” As I take a second to digest what he just said, he inches his mouth a little closer. His piercing touches my bottom lip, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. “I fucking love you, Ky. That’s about all I need to know. We can work through all the other shit as long as we have that.”
Even though he’s said it before, both in the messages he left for me and on the night we argued in Phoenix, hearing him tell me that he loves me now takes my breath away. Somehow, I manage to force my voice to sound confident when I respond. “I love you, too.” So much that I’ll put myself out there one last time to see if one four-letter emotion is enough.
His muscular shoulders sag in relief as he drags me closer to him. He kisses me. It’s a simple yet powerful touch that lasts no longer than ten seconds. “I’m not perfect, Ky. I’ll never be because I’m fucked-up, but I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“I know you don’t,” I say. Ignoring the nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach, I circle my arms around him tighter, losing myself in the way he holds me to him.
“Can I come out now?” Brenna shrieks from the back over the sound of boy band falsetto.
“Not listening to that you can’t,” he bellows, and she cuts the music abruptly.
“Happy, Dad?”
I can’t help but laugh as I wipe the backs of my hands over my cheeks to get rid of the tears that have started to fall.
“We’re good now,” Wyatt yells back.
Her bedroom door flies open, and she races down the hallway, jumping onto the couch. She ignores Wyatt’s pointed frown and eyes me suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”
I glance at Wyatt and then to her. “It’s going to be.”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“If your dad is paying.”
We both focus our gazes—her blue eyes and my brown—on Wyatt until he nods his head. “But we order in tonight,” he says, and she suppresses a groan. “And no making Kylie play that fuc—”
“Dad!” she says sharply.
He groans. “Your video game.”
***
Much later in the evening, after Brenna falls asleep on the floor playing her video game, Wyatt goes to the back room. He returns a few minutes later, holding two guitars, and then he extends one out to me. At first, I start to decline since Brenna’s only a few feet away, but he places the Fender in my lap. Taking my hands in his, he wraps my fingertips around the neck of the custom black guitar.
He sits across the room from me on the loveseat, gripping his guitar, and a tiny smile builds on my lips when he strums the opening of “Send the Pain Below.” It’s one of those songs that I’ll never forget, that will always have a special meaning for me, but it seems so wrong when we’re supposed to be trying again.
Grabbing my pick off the side table, I start playing a new song. He pauses, and it takes him a moment to figure out the chords I’m struggling to strum through. Even though he doesn’t know it well because he’s never been an Incubus fan, he catches on quickly as we pick through the song about love surviving the bad things.
When we reach the last line of the song, I can’t help but sing along softly. “Without love, I won’t survive.”
His eyes never leave mine, and I think about our bad times and our good. I’m hopeful that, this time, things will work, so we can make new memories that won’t hurt so damn much.
Still, I savor every part of our past.
THE END
SAVOR YOU PLAYLIST
* * *
1. “Love Hurts” by Incubus
2. “Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys
3. “Future Starts Slow” by The Kills
4. “Say It Ain’t So” by Weezer
5. “The Red” by Chevelle
6. “All Lips Go Blue” by HIM
7. “Falling” by The Civil Wars
8. “Crazy on You” by Heart
9. “Love the Way You Lie” by Skylar Grey
10. “I Miss the Misery” by Halestorm
11. “Send the Pain Below” by Chevelle
12.
“I Get It” by Chevelle
13. “Sweet Nothing” by Calvin Harris, Featuring Florence Welch
14. “Try” by P!nk
15. “By the Way” by Theory of a Deadman
16. “Fade into You” by Mazzy Star
17. “The Promise” by In This Moment
18. “Careless Whisper” by Seether
19. “One More Night” by Maroon 5
20. “Love-Hate-Sex-Pain” by Godsmack
21. “You” by The Pretty Reckless
22. “Never Let This Go” by Paramore
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
Emily Snow is The New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Devoured series, the Savor Us series, Tidal, and Wrecked. She loves books, sexy bad boys, and really loud rock music, so naturally, she writes stories about naughty rockers. Visit her blog at http://emilysnowbooks.blogspot.com and her website at www.emilysnowbooks.com for news, teasers, and contests.
Find Emily on Twitter @EmilySnowBks
See Emily’s Savor You inspiration on Pinterest
Follow Emily Snow on Facebook
HARD ROCK PROMISE
ATHENA WRIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
Deafening music boomed from every speaker. The pulsing rhythm vibrated in my chest. Uproarious laughter and sensual murmurs combined into an indistinct buzz of voices. Smashed glass crunched underfoot, sharp edges threatening to poke through the soles of my ballet flats.
A buff, shirtless guy danced on the table, rippling ads on display for grabby hands. Girls in bikinis with hair twisted into knots on the top of their heads gave wet hugs to whoever was within reach. Graffiti adorned the no-longer-pristine off-white walls with so-and-so was here, and couples’ names drawn inside lopsided hearts. A drink can went flying across the room, spraying the party guests with fizzy liquid, causing squeals and cheers.
I took in the spectacle, wide-eyed. I hadn’t thought much could faze me anymore. I was wrong.
“Who’s going to clean up this mess?” I asked aloud.
“Is that really going to be your first question?” asked my friend Natalie. “Not, where’s the alcohol? Or who’s that sexy guy doing a Magic Mike performance?”
“I hope someone’s paying for a cleaning service to come in tomorrow.”
“The answer to those questions, by the way, is on every available surface and I have no idea but I want to find out.”
“Who’s house is this?”
Natalie shrugged casually, avoiding my eyes. “I dunno. I just followed the gang when they told me we were going to a party.”
I side-eyed her, suspicious now. “Is this a frat house or something?”
Natalie laughed and gestured with her arm. “You think a frat could afford to live in a multi-million dollar mansion with sixteen rooms and an Olympic sized swimming pool?” She shook her head. “It’s probably some rich, bored guy’s place.”
I took in the front foyer, ignoring the mess and concentrating on the decor with marbled floors and ceramic busts on pedestals. “Is that a Fabergé egg?”
A trio of young guys choose that moment to burst through the doors, in the middle of what I assumed what an impromptu game of football. The ball went sailing through one guy’s fingers and smacked into the egg, sending it crashing to the floor.
“It was a Fabergé egg,” Natalie said.
“I’m leaving.”
Natalie grabbed my arm. “You can’t leave. You haven’t even had a drink yet. Or scribbled your name on the wall. Or gotten laid.”
“Since when are you so cool with this kind of excess? I thought you were normal. Like me.”
“Since I started dating Morris,” Natalie said simply. “It’s part of the rock star lifestyle.”
“Rock star?” I stopped in my tracks. “I thought you said this was some bored rich guy’s place.”
“Morris might have said something about the house belonging to one of his friends,” she said, faking nonchalance.
Natalie’s boyfriend Morris Edwards, drummer for hit rock band Feral Silence, had been my friend even before he’d become famous. I hadn’t thought this kind of party was his thing, either.
“I thought Morris was normal, too.”
“Gotta keep up appearances. I’m sure he’s in a corner somewhere keeping an eye on the band to make sure they don’t crack their heads open or pass out in the pool. Besides, I thought you worked part-time at Walt’s. This can’t be much worse than a dingy biker bar.”
“Walt keeps the guys in line. Broken beer bottles and sticky tables are the worst I have to deal with.”
Which reminded me, I’d been meaning to ask Walt for a raise, or see if I could take on some more shifts. My rent was going up next month, and my car was on its last legs. I needed a quick infusion of cash or I’d be out on the street soon.
“Just one drink, Jessie,” Natalie urged. “It’ll be fun.”
I gave up. Maybe she was right. A night of debauchery would get my mind off things. “One drink.”
“And you have to say hi to the gang,” she added quickly.
“Fine, I’ll say hi.”
“And take a dip in the pool.”
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
“Not a problem.” Natalie pointed over my shoulder to a group of girls wearing soaked, see-through bras and panties. “Everyone else is living it up. Why not let loose for just one night? You can’t be the responsible adult all the time.”
Despite my misgivings, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Everyone else looked like they were having a lot of fun. I’d been stuck worrying about making rent and paying the bills for weeks. “Okay, fine. I’ll drink and party and be merry.”
We headed to the nearest table with bottles of alcohol and red plastic cups. I poured myself a conservative amount of rum and filled the rest with a can of Coke.
Natalie took the rum from my hands and poured in another two shots worth. “That’s better.”
“You’re trying to get me drunk,” I accused.
“Yup.”
“You happy now?”
“No. You also need to find a guy and get laid.”
“I get laid plenty.”
Natalie arched an eyebrow. “When’s the last time I saw you with a guy?”
I didn’t want to do the math so I said nothing.
“Finish your drink, undo the top buttons on your shirt, and go find yourself a man.”
“The kind of man I’m looking for wouldn’t be at a party like this. You know my rule.”
“No rock stars,” Natalie chimed in the same time I did.
Tucked away in a sketchy alley in the bad part of town, the biker bar I worked at a few days a week had become a sort of safe haven for celebrities, rock stars in particular. Walt, the bar owner, made sure the place stayed a semi-secret. Only those in the know hung out there.
In the time I’d worked at Walt’s, I’d had more than enough of rock stars and their cocky, narcissistic, over the top attitudes to last a lifetime.
“I doubt every single person here is some sort of celebrity,” Natalie said. “Most are probably just friends of friends, or hangers-on. I’m going to go find the guys. Promise me you’ll at least talk to someone hot.”
“If you promise to stop nagging me.”
Natalie gave me a small shove in the center of my back. “Go forth and flirt.”
“You’re leaving me?” I grumbled but let her shove carry me forward.
Sipping my drink, I stood alone in the center of the room, feeling awkward and self conscious. I eyed the crowd. There were a couple guys who seemed my type. Clean cut. Jeans and t-shirts. No leather pants or eyeliner to be seen.
A couple of them eyed me back with interest. I flashed a smile at each, then flicked my eyes away, pretending to survey the room. I could play coy as well as the next girl.
With my eyes focused elsewhere, I caught sight of a small group lounging on a sofa. One guy was in the middle of a
gaggle of women, one perched on each knee and two on either side of him. He was hidden behind their slim, long-legged figures, but he must have been something to attract the attention of four beautiful girls at once. They ran their fingers through his hair and down his chest, caressing him possessively.
I was about to glance away and maybe try to catch the attention of one of the previous men who’d shown interest when the girl on his right knee shifted sideways, leaving his profile clear.
He turned his head. Our eyes locked. The bright blue color was captivating even across the room. I couldn’t look away. My grip on my plastic cup went loose until it almost spilled out of my hand.
This guy was hot.
He seemed to pause, holding my gaze. My heart beat a small thrill. He tilted his head to the side, murmuring words to the other girl on his knee, eyes not leaving mine.
“But Gael!” she protested.
He caressed one bare thigh, pacifying her, and nodded his chin toward the drink table. She pouted, but stood so he could lift himself from the sofa.
He was tall, with broad shoulders and faded jeans that fit snugly around his trim waist. Messy hair fell over his smooth forehead. Tattoos covered most of his left arm, with a fair smattering on his right. I normally avoided guys with tattoos — I’d had enough of them hitting on me at work — but a flutter hit my stomach.
He strode through the crowd, deftly avoiding drunk, lurching partygoers. He moved purposefully, a determined expression on his face as he came straight at me. My loose grip turned tight, fingers clenching around the plastic cup. A familiar heat settled between my legs.
Maybe Nat has been right. Maybe I did need to get laid.
As he got closer, his expression slowly changed. The determination turned sly as he scanned me up and down, taking in my flushed cheeks and shallow breathing. A small smirk slid across his lips.
This guy had me pegged. He knew exactly the effect he was having on me. It was the exact same effect he’d had on those girls. He thought I was easy pickings.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1 Page 153