Heartstrings (A Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Hadley Danes

  “You’re overreacting to all of this,” Slade tells me. I can see the muscles in his jaw tensing.

  “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” I say.

  There’s no stopping my temper now that it’s gotten out of its cage. I brace myself against my own anger. “The three of them practically cornered me backstage to tell me what was what. It’s like they’re brainwashed or something. Sex drones. And you take advantage of that! Helena—that’s the one that ‘belongs’ to you, right?—she thinks you’re a freaking god. You’re totally using that girl, Slade. It’s totally uncool of you!”

  “I’m not using anyone!” Slade cries, “Most of all not Helena! You think I’ve laid a finger on her since I met you?”

  “Have you?” I demand.

  “Of course not!” Slade says, his teeth gritted. “I can’t believe you’d think that.”

  “How am I supposed to—”

  “Let me be clear, Julia,” Slade says, “There are a lot of things about my life that you’re going to hate. There are a lot of things I’ve done that you’re going to think are vile and reprehensible and disgusting. I’ve drunk myself into a stupor more times than I can count. I’ve trashed hotel rooms and crashed cars and never batted an eye. I’ve slept with more women than I can name...Hell, I probably never even learned a lot of their names to begin with! Since I was eighteen, I’ve been living this life. It’s been nothing but money, and women, and booze, and music this whole time. My band’s kept me sane, and I like to think I haven’t done any lasting damage, but you and I have led entire lives before we met each other. And if you’re going to begrudge me that, then I think we should stop this whole thing before we even begin.”

  “What whole thing?” I ask quietly.

  “This,” he says, gesturing between the two of us. “I have no idea what this is, but I know that it’s something, and I know I’d rather not abandon it for no good reason. I’m sorry if the girls made you feel uncomfortable, but don’t blame me! That’s not fair. I won’t judge you for what you’ve done if you won’t judge me.”

  “But I’ve never done anything!” I say.

  “Well...” Slade says, “Then you’re just perfect and everyone else is a shit head.”

  We stare at each other across the table, at an impasse. I can feel that this is the moment I either turn away and run, or else never return unchanged. Am I willing to let this troubled, chaotic soul into my life? This offensive, riotous, destructive presence who could very well tear my heart out with his teeth and leave me bleeding in his wake? I look at him long and hard, trying to read his mind. But his face is stony—he’s hiding behind that much-practiced facade again. The distance between us tugs at my heart. I hate it. I know that I couldn’t stand to force him away. No matter how scared I am, it becomes clear that I really don’t have a choice in the matter. For better or worse, I care about Slade Hale. God help me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I say. “It was just...weird, is all. Backstage I mean. I felt so protective of you. And I know that’s kind of crazy, and that I really don’t have any right to, but...that’s how I felt.”

  “I promise Julia,” Slade says, “Nothing’s gone on between us since the hospital.”

  “Does she know that?” I ask dryly.

  “She will now, if she didn’t already,” he says.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “It’s not just anyone that’s allowed backstage,” Slade says, “I’ve never invited anyone back, besides you. And I’ve certainly never blown off an after party to go play with someone’s cat.”

  “Watch those double entendres,” I tell him.

  He laughs. “I was referring to Gustav. It’s not my fault your mind is in the gutter.”

  “Fair enough,” I say, “Though you can’t blame me for being a little one track minded right now.”

  “Not a bit,” he says. “Jesus, it’s probably three by now. Don’t you need to be getting to bed?”

  “Yeah,” I say, “I certainly do.”

  “OK,” he says, “Do you want me to call Anders and get out of your hair?”

  “No,” I say, “Could you...I mean, I do actually have to sleep, but you can stay. If you want.”

  “I could use some rest myself,” he says.

  I push myself up from the table and beckon him to follow me. I climb the stairs, well aware of Slade’s eyes fixed squarely upon my ass. “I don’t think I’ve had a sleepover since I was thirteen,” I say, “I might be out of practice.”

  “I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he says, “Well, mostly.”

  With a smile, I push open my bedroom door and step inside. Despite the release Slade granted me in the back of the town car, my body is still sparkling with desire for him. I can only imagine how he feels. But still, exhaustion is finally starting to trump lust. I sink onto the bed and fall back against the pillows. I can’t even bring myself to get undressed, I’m just too tired. I haven’t slept in far too long, though I wouldn’t have missed that concert for the world. I can’t believe I have to head back in to the hospital tomorrow. Penny is going to lose her shit all over the place.

  Slade sinks down onto the mattress beside me, looking around my bedroom. “So, this is the place,” he says.

  “This is it,” I mumble sleepily.

  “The sun’s coming up,” he remarks, looking out the window, “How are you going to fall asleep?”

  “Easy,” I say, rolling onto my side, “Just be quiet and spoon me, would you?”

  He obliges me, and lies down and pulls me against him. We’re on top of the comforter, snuggled up like newlyweds. The whole thing is totally bizarre, but somehow totally right at the same time.

  “I don’t think I’ve cuddled with anyone for about a decade,” he says, his lips against my ear.

  “How are you liking it?” I ask.

  “It’s strange...” he says, shifting his body against mine. “Usually, your clothes would have been off before we got through the door.”

  “I’m not your usual kind of girl, I guess,” I tell him, cuddling closer.

  “You’re certainly not,” he says. “You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met.”

  “In what way?” I ask.

  “You don’t care that I’m a rock star,” he laughs.

  “It’s not that I don’t care,” I tell him, “It’s just not why I care about you.”

  I gasp as I realize the words I’ve allowed to escape my mouth. I hold my breath, hoping he somehow managed to not hear me. Oh please, let him have not heard that. How could I have slipped up and said those four words out loud? For god’s sake, we haven’t even slept together! We haven’t even known each other for a week! What the hell is the matter with me? A long moment of silence passes, and Slade’s body is perfectly still. Finally, he parts his lips and whispers into the lightening air.

  “I care about you too, Julia.”

  Relief and elation erupt inside of me, warring for attention. I’m completely overwhelmed, and ecstatic, and terrified. I turn toward him on the bed and look into those dark, endless eyes of his. For a moment, all I can do is stare silently at this gorgeous man who’s crashed headfirst into my life.

  “You do?” I ask, “You really do?”

  “I really do,” he says. “You really do, too?”

  “I really do, too,” I say.

  We laugh, sounding for the world like a couple of kids on prom night. Not exactly the kind of pillow talk I’d expect from a rock star. It’s hard to believe that this is the same person who pinned me against the backstage wall and sent me soaring into an unbelievable orgasm in the backseat of his town car. But Slade is nothing if not multifaceted. That much I’ve been able to figure out.

  “I have no idea how this ends,” I tell him.

  “Does it have to?” he asks.

  “You’re going on tour,” I say.

  “I am,” he says.

  “For a long t
ime,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he admits.

  “Well,” I say, yawning widely, “I guess we don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

  “You could come with me,” he suggests hopefully.

  “No I can’t,” I tell him, “and you know it, Slade.”

  “It was worth a shot,” he says sleepily.

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night...day...” mumble, and finally drift off to sleep. Slade’s arms tighten around me as the sun continues to rise beyond my window. I greet the new day wrapped up in the embrace of an unknowable rock star who happens to want me. And after a rock concert and the best orgasm of my life…I’ve certainly had worse mornings in my time, that much is for certain.

  Chapter Nine

  * * * * *

  As usual, my alarm goes off far too soon for my own liking. For a minute, my sleepy head is swarmed with thoughts of the mundane: where I’m going to stop for coffee on the way to work, whether or not my scrubs are clean. Then, as I rise up out of sleep, I feel the strong, sturdy arms of Slade Hale wrapped around me. My everyday worries are immediately blasted away as the whirlwind that’s been the last few days of my life sweeps back into my mind. It’s hard to believe all that’s happened in the past week. I’ve gone from waking up to nagging thoughts of errands to waking up fresh off an adventure with my own personal rock star.

  I turn my face toward Slade’s. Sleeping, he’s almost too perfect to look at for long. His sculpted, gorgeous features are calm, resting, still and flawless. He doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed about my blaring alarm clock. I suppose he had to deal with a lot of noise during most of his life—he can probably sleep through anything. I try to roll away from him to the edge of the bed, but his arms tighten around me at once.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he growls sleepily.

  “To work,” I tell him, planting a kiss on his arm, “Remember that whole nursing thing I do?”

  “Do I ever,” he says, “But before you go, I have an idea...”

  He shifts against me, and I can feel the stiff length of his member rubbing against my ass. I swallow a moan of desire—I’d like nothing better in the world than to blow off my shift and roll around with Slade under the sheets all day. Somehow, in the course of the night, we managed to pull off our scant articles of clothing and climb under the sheets.

  “I have to go,” I tell him, “What if I had skipped work the day you were wheeled in?”

  “That...would have been a tragedy,” he says finally. His arms loosen and I’m able to roll out from under the sheets and blankets. “Why don’t I come with you?” he suggests.

  “To the hospital?” I say, heading for the bathroom.

  “Sure,” he says, “Why not? You came to my job.”

  “It’s a little different, I think,” I tell him.

  “How come? You watched me do my work, I’ll watch you do yours. I can just stand off to the side while you’re saving people’s lives and all. It’ll be a blast.”

  “I think you’d be a little distracting,” I tell him, turning on the shower.

  “I suppose you have a point,” he says, sitting up in bed. The insistent bulge between his legs is straining at the container of his boxers. I hurriedly avert my gaze, wishing I’d set my alarm clock a little earlier so that I could finally enjoy Slade the way I’ve wanted to, so badly. I consider switching on the cold water and dousing myself with a cold shower. I might need one if I’m ever going to get out of the house on time.

  Slade saunters my way as I step into the shower. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Getting in the shower with you,” he smiles.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell him, holding up my hands. “I’ve got about twenty minutes to blow this pop stand, I’m...” I trail off as Slade slides his briefs down his sculpted thighs and straightens up, not a stitch of clothing on his body. His staggering erection is pointing straight toward me, and I feel my legs start to shake beneath me. “You son of a bitch...” I whisper.

  “I’d like to have longer than twenty minutes with you, though,” he growls.

  “Tell you what,” I say, taking a cautious step toward him, “Why don’t we finish this tonight?”

  “After the show?” he asks, “That would be some way to kick off the rest of the tour, huh?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” I say, “You play the Philly kickoff show, and I’ll be there waiting for you the minute I get off work.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” he says, “I’m not sure how I’ll be able to concentrate tonight, though. What if I forget the words to all my songs because I’m too busy thinking about you?”

  I eye his persistent, pulsating member, feeling myself growing wetter just thinking about how good it will feel to take Slade inside of me. I can feel my breath begin to quicken, that aching throb ringing out through my core. I let my eyes flick up toward Slade’s—they’re swirling with wanting me. That puts me right over the edge. I can’t not act on what I’m feeling. I step into the shower and glance over my shoulder at those smoldering, unstoppable eyes.

  “Come on,” I say, stepping under the hot flow of the water.

  Grinning, he follows me. The warm mist of the water as it splashes off his hard body makes me shiver. I run my hands down his firm chest, my wet hands sliding over his muscles. I feel his hands gripping my hips, and take a step closer toward him. His throbbing member brushes against me, drawing a moan from deep down inside of me. I need to take him inside of me right now—one way or another.

  I push Slade up against the wall of the shower, and a look of surprise flits across his face. He likes it when I take charge, a little—and it only turns me on more. I kiss his neck deeply, flicking my tongue against his taut, muscular flesh. Kiss by kiss, I work my way down to his chest. I let my hands close around his long, pulsing rod. He takes a deep breath as I wrap my fingers around his impressive width. I need both hands to take all of him, and I’m more than happy to use them.

  I travel down, kissing every inch of him that I land on, as my hands work up and down the length of him. He tangles his fingers into my hair as I drop to my knees in front of him. My eager mouth is level with the hard length of flesh I’m working between my hands. With water pouring down over my head, through my hair, splashing against my naked body, I bring my lips to the tip of his manhood. I hear a sharp intake of breath from above as I lay a kiss on his swollen head. His fingers tighten in my hair, just enough to sting a little.

  With my hands moving up and down in rhythmic strokes, I take the tip of him into my mouth. I flick my tongue against the tender underside, feeling him grow even harder in my mouth. With slow, deliberate motions, I move my lips further and further down his shaft. He’s far too huge for me to take at once, so I take my sweet time. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of him. Daringly, I let one hand loose and cup his hard, bulging balls. He’s bucking against me, begging me to take more of him. I happily oblige, running my tongue all around his thick shaft as I work what I can’t fit with my hand. I have as much of him as I can take between my hands and my mouth, and I bear down—giving him everything that I have.

  The sharp taste of cum skirts across my tongue. I want to feel him fill me up this way, to taste him as he gushes in bliss and ecstasy. I close my lips hard around his member and suck and firmly as I can, I run my hand down his shaft and close my fingers around his balls. I feel him pulse against my tongue, his fingers tight in my hair, and the taste of him floods my mouth. He comes hard, spilling himself against my rapturous tongue. I swallow him down, relishing the warmth that rushes down my throat. I keep working my lips up and down his tender flesh, taking every last drop that he’s given me.

  Resting my hands against his muscular thighs, I finally lift my mouth from him. I glance up into the hot spray of the shower and see him peering down at me, his eyes wide with wonder. I lick a trickle of his cum from my cheek before the shower can wash it away, and the sight of it very nearly cause
s him to give me an encore. He offers his hands to me and pulls me to standing, a relaxed and baffled grin is painted across his face. I give him a happy kiss on the cheek and reach for the shampoo.

  “More than twenty minutes, huh?” I smile.

  “You win,” he says, holding up his hands.

  “No, sir,” I say, “You’re the winner, here.”

  We laugh together, hastily scrubbing down. Though I’ve only known Slade for a few days, this feels like the most natural thing in the world. It’s so easy to be around him, it feels like we’re just an ordinary couple. I let my daydreams wander through scenarios of what it would actually be like to have a normal life with Slade. If he led a regular life, I could see us going through all the stages of courtship, getting married, maybe even having a kid or two someday. It would be wonderful, going through all of that with him by my side.

  But Slade’s life is not a normal one. He’s playing the smitten suitor now, and I really believe that he means it, but that doesn’t make our relationship any more plausible. I’ve built a life for myself here, all on my own. I’ve got a fantastic job, a couple of good friends, my family, and my cat. And he’s most certainly got a great thing going on for himself, too. He’s a rock star, for god’s sake. It’s not like I’m going to ask him to settle down. I love the fact that he leads a glamorous, exciting life. I’m thrilled that he was able to cobble together a whole world for himself after his father died, rise to stardom, and win the day. But that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to give up everything I’ve worked for to be his groupie.

  My face falls as I realize that, as nice as this is, as comfortable as we feel together now, I still can’t be sure that this is the real Slade Hale. Why is this version of him any more real than the thrashing, powerful man I saw on stage? Or the womanizer who gets a kick out of sleeping with girls on the road?

  “Are you OK?” he asks, looking down through the stream with concern.

  “What?” I say, wrapped up in my own thoughts. “Oh, yeah! Sure. Totally. Sorry, I just spaced out for a second.”