“Rush, you’re making me crazy.” Her voice was a husky, turned-on rasp. “Please. You said earlier to tell you . . .”
Practically snarling, I choked out, “Earlier, you weren’t holding back from me.”
Repositioning behind her, I grabbed her hips and yanked her ass backward, letting her feel the blunt end of me. It was enough.
She whimpered.
“You want me,” I told her, not asking. “Say it.”
“I want you.”
“My name.” There’s no way in hell I’d let up until I had all that I wanted.
“I want you, Rush.”
“You got it, babe.”
I surged inside her.
“Yes,” she hissed, and I groaned my agreement.
“You feel so good. So wet.” I stroked out and in, deep then shallow, watching myself pull out and then disappear inside her. “You make me insane.” My balls were as tight as her cunt felt around me.
“Mmm,” she murmured brokenly.
She was so far gone. And so was I.
I began to hammer into her. Our flesh slapped together, and seconds later, she began to moan. The base of my spine tingled, and my balls drew up.
“Jewel. Fuck.” I was so fucking in over my head with her.
“Rush, Rush, Rush.” She chanted my name, spasming around me as I emptied myself inside her.
We came together in a hot, heated frenzy, and it was better than any standing ovation I’d ever received.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
Jewel
When I stepped out of the bathroom after my second shower, the food had arrived. My stomach rumbled as the aroma of French fries, ketchup, and burgers wafted over to me from the coffee table.
I nearly wept. I was so hungry, my stomach cramped.
“Hey, you look a little wobbly,” Rush said as he hurried to my side.
“Yeah, I guess I am.” Wearing the robe again, I feigned a casual tone, but I curled my hand around his forearm, grateful for the strength he offered me to lean on, as well as for the food. “It smells delicious.”
“Just a couple of plain burgers with condiments on the side. The fries aren’t too bad. I sampled a few, and found a couple of brews inside the minibar.”
Frowning at the two bottles, I said, “I don’t drink.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “My dad had an issue with alcohol, so I avoid it. You know?”
“That’s not a bad plan.”
Looking sheepish, Rush raked a hand through his hair. It just fell back into his eyes, but I appreciated getting a glimpse of the platinum of his eyes without his hair shadowing the sheen. Those eyes were like a mystical mirror, a mesmerizing conjurer that I had no countermeasures to resist. Compartmentalizing wasn’t working. He’d made his point about that.
At the couch, he helped me sit.
“I’m not made of glass. I won’t shatter.”
Yet, as I said it, I glanced at the spot on the carpet where he’d fucked me so thoroughly, and knew it wasn’t true. His being so kind to me made me feel fragile, made me vulnerable with him. My flimsy shield wavered, and my senses were skewed. My mind kept playing tricks with my heart, wanting it to think that the physical connection we shared meant more than it did.
He frowned down at me. “You okay? You went quiet all of a sudden.” Taking a seat on the couch, he shifted to face me, his gaze searching. “I wasn’t too rough?”
“No.” I shook my head, a blush warming my cheeks. “You know it was good. You have to know it was good. It’s just that I . . .”
Those magic eyes of his made me want to confess that I never climaxed with clients. It had always been just business before him. But I told myself that he didn’t need to know.
“Just what?”
He stroked my arm softly, and my skin tingled where he touched me. I wanted to climb onto his lap again and melt into him. But my stomach saved me when it growled again.
“Sorry.” His expression softened. “You should eat.”
He stood. He was wearing his jeans, but unbelted, they rested much lower on his hips than before. Following the V that disappeared into the denim, I forgot the food.
“Babe,” he said, giving me a stern look. “Eat.” He glanced pointedly at the burger. “Is a soda okay with you?”
He sauntered toward the minibar. The way his jeans fit his ass made the short walk a distracting exhibition.
“Yes, soda’s fine.”
I leaned forward and grabbed a French fry. The wax paper beneath it crinkled. My stomach grumbled again the moment the fry touched my tongue.
“Oh my gosh,” I said around the explosion of saltiness and fried potato flavor in my mouth. I covered my lips with my hand as I chewed. “This is so good.”
“If you say so.” He shook his head as he set two cans on the coffee table. “I think maybe it just tastes really good because we worked up a big appetite.” Grinning at me, he reclaimed his seat.
I rolled my eyes, too busy shoveling food into my mouth to come up with a better response. I alternated humongous bites of the juicy burger with multiple crisp fries.
“Hey, slow down.” His eyes narrowed in concern. “You’ll be sick.”
“You’re right.” I pulled back my hand from reaching for more fries and focused on chewing my current bite.
“Better.” He nodded encouragingly as I continued eating, but at a more normal pace like him. “Do you wanna watch something on TV?” he asked, crumpling the napkin he’d used to wipe his mouth.
“No. Not really.”
“Ah, the anti-entertainment thing.” He studied me closely for a long beat, his speculation making me antsy enough to feel obligated to respond.
“Leftover biases from my small-town upbringing.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s not really gonna damn me to watch TV or listen to secular music.”
After all, the selling of my body was a much bigger sin, ensuring my eternal damnation. Feeling foolish, I glanced away.
“What do you do in your spare time?” he asked, watching me closely and drawing conclusions. Accurate ones more often than not, I was discovering.
“I sketch, and sometimes paint when I can afford a canvas.”
“You’re a painter?”
“I try. I go to the park with Cam. She makes up stories about the people we see. I sketch them.”
“What’s Cam like?”
“Beautiful. A free spirit. A kind one. She took me in when . . .”
I glanced away and popped another fry in my mouth. The last one. But chewing and looking away from him didn’t remove the weight of his stare.
“What do you do with your spare time?” I peeked back at him to find him staring at me as I suspected.
“Don’t have a lot of that anymore. Touring keeps me pretty busy.”
“You travel across the whole country?”
He nodded. “Not just this one. Europe. South America. Japan. Russia.”
“Wow. That must be really cool.”
“It’s been a while since it felt cool. It’s exhausting, actually. Isolating. Lately, I wonder if it’s worth it.” He trailed off, and his brow wrinkled.
“I get it.” I put my hand on his. “Losing your dad makes you question everything you thought you knew before, right?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” He nodded once to confirm.
“You don’t have to talk about it. We should pick a new topic.”
“You lost your grandmother, didn’t you?” he asked softly. “Recently, I’d guess.”
“Yes.” The food suddenly sat heavy in my stomach.
“We keep circling back to it, Jewel. Maybe if you talk about her, and if I talk about my father . . . Hell, I don’t know . . .”
My eyes burning, I flattened my lips. “Will talking about it bring her back?”
“No, baby.”
“Death is final.”
What I had done and the choice I’d made leaving home wit
hout my gran’s blessing had put a wedge between us that could never be removed. Her death made sure of that. My eyes flooded with stinging tears at the thought of the time with her I’d lost and could never get back.
I glared at him, but I was really only angry at myself.
“All right,” he said. “Don’t bow up at me again.”
“It’s not you I’m mad at. It’s me.” I swiped the wetness away from beneath my eyes. But not before he noted it.
“I’m sorry. I suck at this stuff, okay?”
“I suck at it too. Obviously.” I cast about for some other topic to discuss and my gaze snagged on his guitar. “Do you ever play just for yourself anymore? Or does making music a career take that pleasure away from you?”
“Pretty insightful question.” He shifted his attention to the instrument. “I think you’re much better at this talking thing than me. Better at a lot of stuff, I’m sure.”
He turned back to me and gave me a long searching look.
“Truthfully, I haven’t played just for myself in a long while.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
Rush
“That’s kind of sad.” Her pretty lips turned down. On my behalf. A more compelling sight I couldn’t ever remember seeing, especially as I weighed her empathy against the magnitude of her losses.
“I feel like remedying that right now.” Sensing that she would approve of me lightening the mood, I reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “Would you like to hear me play?”
“I would.” Her eyes lit up, and her lips curved upward. “Please.”
I was right. She retreated when I pushed too hard.
“Done.” I swept my thumb across her lips. “Fair disclosure, babe. I’m doing this as much for myself as the potential to see another one of your smiles.”
Her mouth framed a sweet one beneath my hand, and my soul surged with satisfaction.
I got up, set the case flat, clicked the latches, and withdrew the guitar. She was watching me during the entire process. I could feel her perusal, and I liked having her watching me. I liked her company, her attention, and every privileged glimpse she gave me into her life. I liked it all, a hell of a lot.
I returned to the couch, and she scooted backward to make room for me and the Martin.
“It’s a pretty instrument,” she said, folding her legs underneath herself and leaning her head back on the couch as I strummed a few chords and adjusted the tuning.
“Shiny like the Porsche, huh?” I said, unable to resist teasing her for not being interested in cars, entertainment, or music.
“It’s a solid-top Martin?”
“Yeah.” Surprised by her guess, I stilled, my fingers paused on the strings of the performance-grade acoustic.
“My mom had a similar one. She pawned it, but my gran got it back by paying for it in installments. It was one of the only things she bequeathed to me. Not sure why. Forgiveness for me pursuing a dream away from her like my mother? Or because it was the most expensive thing she thought I’d be able to carry away with me?”
“Maybe both,” I said, and her eyes glassed up like polished gold. “It’s probably vintage. Worth more than you probably imagine. I’d love to take a look at it sometime.”
“Maybe,” she said softly.
I let that noncommittal reply go. There was no maybe about it . . . I was going to see her again. I was also getting everything I could from her in the time that remained. This, whatever it was, wasn’t ending when I gave her the cash I owed her in the morning.
My lips were lifting at those determined thoughts when I noticed her fingers tapping on her thigh in perfect rhythm to my tune.
“Is that a song of yours?” she asked.
“Not a song. Just chords.”
“Do you write your own music?”
“Yeah, mostly. My bandmates help sometimes.”
“Oh, you’re in a band?” She yawned.
“Yeah, a pretty popular one.”
“That’s nice.” Her eyelids drooped, making her appear a lot more sleepy than impressed now that her stomach was full.
“A lot of people think it’s more than nice,” I said without taking offense. I liked that she didn’t have an inkling about that part of my life, but deep down I also registered some unease too. I was pretty accustomed to my celebrity status getting me what I wanted with women.
“No. I meant the chords you’re playing are nice. Soothing.”
Less than a glowing endorsement of my music, and yet I smiled. It was refreshing not to be told everything I did was amazing.
“Hey,” I said softly. “You aren’t getting sleepy on me, are you?”
“A little.” Worry tightened her lax features.
“That’s okay. Rest a little while I play. Only I’d prefer you rest here,” I said.
I opened my arms, and she immediately scooted closer and laid her head on my chest. I liked that she didn’t hesitate, and my earlier surge of satisfaction was a blip compared to the sense of rightness I felt with her in my arms.
“You make a much better cushion than the couch,” she murmured. Placing her small hands on my chest, she tucked them under her chin and peered sleepily up at me through her thick lashes.
I hummed and strummed. It was a little awkward playing the guitar and holding her, but the reward was worth it.
She sighed. “I like your voice.”
“Thank you, baby.”
“You should sing.” She yawned again.
I didn’t tell her I did sing. That I was the lead singer and founder of the band. It really didn’t matter here.
Eventually, her eyes closed and her delicate features relaxed, leaving her expression peaceful.
I didn’t speak again for a long time. Instead, I watched her sleep.
As I watched her, I played. The chords became music, the humming became words, and those words became the beginning of a new song.
***
Jewel
Shit. Shit. Triple shit.
I’d fallen asleep. And so had he.
Light from a crack in the blinds beamed into my eyes like an accusation. It was time to go, and yet I didn’t move. Rush asleep was something to savor.
His hair tumbled over his closed lids. The strong lines of his face relaxed. His sexy lips parted, the darkness between them a tempting seam that I longed to slip my tongue into, but to kiss him would surely be the next step into certain madness. Foolish, so foolish, the thoughts I’d allowed to flourish inside me.
I eased up carefully, intending to disengage from temptation, but found my hand within an inch of the hair over his brow that I longed to smooth back one last time.
Resist, Jewel. Don’t make this harder by lingering.
I got off the couch and started clearing the dinner remnants. My movements would likely wake him, but I had to ask for my money soon anyway. It was humiliating to have to ask, to draw attention to what this was and what it wasn’t, but necessary.
Strictly business? It didn’t feel that way. But it most certainly would return to that when I brought finances into the mix. The spell would be broken.
“Hey, you,” he said.
Over on the couch, he stretched, and I swallowed hard at the play of his smooth skin over sculpted muscle.
“What are you doing?”
“Just cleaning up,” I said, not meeting his gaze as I turned away. His body was one thing to resist but his eyes were another, and mine would reveal too many telling emotions.
Sorting through the stack of trash in my hand, I tossed recyclables into the appropriate bin and tried not to think about how difficult it would be to salvage the current situation. I stiffened as he came up behind me.
“You don’t need to do that,” he said, his morning voice deep and rumbly. Wrapping his strong arms around me, he lowered his head and nuzzled my neck with his stubbled jaw.
“Apparently, I do,” I said, my reply hoarse. It was hard to speak, let alone sound coherent when I ha
d such a big lump in my throat, cutting off the oxygen supply to my brain. “I think you forgot this.”
I spun out of his arms and thrust the crumpled note the valet had brought last night into his hand.
“Thanks.” He studied me a moment before dropping his gaze. “You’re right. I had forgotten.”
He unfolded the paper, and as he scanned it, his brow creased.
“Everything okay?” I asked, grateful for a distraction.
“It’s just my boss. The CEO of my label.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna have to call her.”
“Of course.” I nodded. “I understand. Duty calls for me too. I need to go.”
I dropped my gaze and stared at my toes. Unfortunately, that also gave me a glimpse of his. Sad how I even found his masculine feet sexy.
“Do you think you could, um, pay me now?”
He didn’t respond. But I could feel him staring, and the vibes radiating off of him weren’t cool.
“Jewel, look at me.”
I lifted my gaze, and his eyes immediately scanned mine.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Hope tried to leap from my chest to his. Terrified by it, I grabbed it by the neck and quashed it with reality.
“I have to. Cam’s expecting me.” I swallowed my pride, trying not to wince at its bitter taste. “I need the money. My rent’s due. I know I fell asleep; we both did. But the time’s gone now, and I can’t stay any longer.”
“I put the cash in your bag last night while you were sleeping.”
“Oh, okay. Good.” I tried not to frown. What he’d done had made sense, made it easier to get me out the door in the morning. “Thank you.”
I backed away and retrieved my purse, noting wistfully how it looked right leaning against his guitar case.
“Well, I guess this is good-bye.” My chest tight and my throat burning, I choked out, “It was nice.” I slid the strap onto my shoulder and risked one last glance at him.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2 Page 117