His eyes go wide. "Fuck yes." He smacks her ass playfully then pushes her to the door.
She giggles and throws me a goodbye wave. "Have fun."
The room quiets as the door shuts. The energy shifts. The playful, adorable couple is gone. It's just me and Pete and all the intensity in his stare.
"I'll put your name on the list," he says. "The club's a quick walk from your bar."
"I really do have work."
"We don't go on until ten." He motions to the menu. "What do you want?"
I wipe the sweat from my brow. "Something cold."
"Specifically?"
"Iced latte. Extra ice."
I need something freezing cold if I want any hope of spending the afternoon with him without melting into a pool of desire.
***
The optical shop is just down the street.
Only it's closed. It's closed on Tuesdays.
Without a word of explanation, Pete pulls out his cell phone and taps a text message. He nods I've got this.
A moment later, there's a friendly sales associate unlocking the door. She smiles at Pete and shakes his hand eagerly.
"Mr. Steele, it's so nice to see you again. This must be your friend." She turns to me. "Jess, right?"
I nod. "Nice to meet you."
She doesn't introduce herself. "Let me know if you need any help. I'll be in the back finishing some bookkeeping." She blushes as her eyes meet Pete's, but she says nothing about it. "You can grab me once you've made your selection and I'll measure your prescription."
She disappears into the back room.
"You have the power to open closed retail stores?" I ask.
"I don't like to cause a scene when I shop," he says.
"So..."
"So I called ahead, promised I'd promote the place on social media."
"You do this every time you go shopping?"
"Only on occasion."
"You're a private guy for someone who fucks people in bar bathrooms."
His lips curl into a cocky smile. He's proud of himself. For the public sex or for getting that girl to scream at the top of her lungs? Hard to say. And contemplating the subject further will do nothing to cool me down.
I try to focus on the massive selection of glasses. There must be a thousand pairs in every shape and every color of the rainbow. I try a dozen, sorting them into noes and maybes.
Pete stays a few feet behind me, giving me space to browse.
My eyes catch his in the mirror. "What happened to that woman from yesterday?"
"She left when we were done."
"Do you—" I switch to a pair of rectangular frames. "Do that a lot."
He cocks a brow. "Depends on what you mean by that."
"Have one-night stands?"
"Last few months, yeah."
Usually, I avoid getting into other people's business. But I want to know more about him. "Can I ask you something personal?"
His voice is light, teasing. "If you look me in the eyes instead of looking at the mirror."
I turn and take a step towards him, so I'm close enough I can see all the details of his face. "It didn't seem like you were enjoying yourself."
"That's not a question."
"Were you enjoying yourself?"
He shrugs. "It was fine."
Just fine? That girl was screaming like she was having the best lay of her life.
My eyes catch his. I'd never, in a million years, ask anyone else this question, but I feel like I can talk to him. It's dangerous.
Again, I try to convince myself to pull back. It doesn't work. This tiny hint of intimacy feels good. I want more of it.
I stare back into his dark eyes. "Why didn't you enjoy it?"
"Wasn't good sex." Pete moves closer. His fingers brush my wrist. "There's sex where you're there, in the moment, all your attention on your partner, on the pleasure spreading over her face as she groans your name and rakes her nails across your back."
My knees go weak.
"Then there's sex where you show up, close your eyes, and stay in your head, focused on the idea of somebody." He leans in to whisper. "That woman wanted to fuck Pete Steele, famous bassist. She didn't give a shit about the actual guy, what I liked, what I wanted."
I swallow hard.
"I don't blame her. I knew what I was getting into. I made sure she came. But it wasn't good sex."
Holy fuck, can sex really be that good? I'm hot everywhere. I open my mouth to respond but my tongue refuses to move.
Okay. Glasses. Need to pick out glasses before I melt. I move to the next wall and try another twenty pairs. This time, I find three maybes.
"I do see your point." His voice softens. "I saw Miles and Tom fuck their way through fans and I swore to myself I'd never do that."
"Miles?"
"Our singer. But you already knew that."
My cheeks flush. Guilty as charged. Okay. Pete isn't bullshitting me. I won't bullshit him.
Somehow.
It must be possible to have an honest conversation that isn't couched in white lies that properly deflect attention.
"My sister has a crush on you," I say. I try to shrug off the tension forming in my shoulders but it doesn't work. It still hurts. "She talks about Sinful Serenade all the time. She has a dozen pictures of you on her wall."
"Anything good?"
"Good how?"
He cocks a brow and tugs his t-shirt an inch up his stomach. It's quick, a flash, but I can make out the v-lines just above his skinny jeans. Mmm.
"No. You're very modest. In photographs."
"Only in photographs?"
"I've known you for about twelve hours."
His stare is a playful challenge.
"You've mostly talked about what a good lay you are." My cheeks flush but I maintain most of my confidence. "I'm not saying you aren't, but—"
"You'd like to find out." It's a statement, not a question.
"Are you offering?"
He stares back at me. "I might."
My stomach flip-flops. It shouldn't upset me this much, him not offering to sleep with me. "What's stopping you?"
"Haven't decided if you're interested in me or my fame."
"What if I'm interested in your body and the other two don't matter to me?"
"That's cold, Jess, writing off my personality like that." He smiles but there's a hint of sadness in his eyes.
It's almost like he believes that I am writing off his personality, that I couldn't possibly be interested in anything besides his body or his fame.
He blinks and it's gone. Then he's close enough that I can't think anything.
His whisper sends goosebumps down my spine. "There's no question. We both know you're interested in my body."
Okay, that's as much confidence as I can muster for the afternoon. I bring my stacks of maybes to the counter in the center of the room and narrow it down to three pairs of glasses.
I try the pastel pink pair. It's pretty, sweet, feminine.
"Those are perfect," he says.
"My ex would always tell me not to wear girly stuff. That I needed to grow up."
"He sounds like an asshole."
"That's easy to say now that he's my ex. But I was with him a long time."
I was sure I loved him. That he loved me. He was an asshole, but he was charming too. Funny. He always could convince me he knew best, that he was looking out for me rather than trying to get his way.
Things were okay. Until I got into law school at USC. He asked me to choose—him or school. But he didn't even wait for me to answer him. Just started sleeping with my sister.
How could I have been so wrong about him?
My chest heaves as I exhale. I want to share this insight with Pete. It's not like me. Usually, I keep my feelings under lock and key.
It's safer that way.
I try to change the subject. "He was charming but he was a snob. Made fun of me for reading young adult. He couldn't stand that I had a
poster of Katniss Everdeen in my room."
"Jess, I expect better from you. That's inexcusable. What kind of asshole doesn't love Katniss?"
I laugh. "You read YA?"
"I read everything." He cocks a brow. "Even the dirty stuff."
Another laugh escapes my lips. That flutter in my belly builds. I like him. Not because he's famous. Not because he's hot.
There's something about him, this steadiness to his voice, this confidence in his expression. I feel like I can be myself with him. It's dangerous, how much I want to reveal myself to him.
His eyes stay glued to mine. "You should read whatever you like. With all due respect, I've only known you twelve hours and I can tell you need to let your hair down."
"Should I come to your work and fuck a guy in the bathroom there?"
"Sure. But you're not going to shock anyone. I've heard every guy in the band and most of the people in the crew have sex."
"You wouldn't send a peon to break it up?"
"No, I'd listen. Nothing I like better than listening to a beautiful woman come."
My cheeks flush. He'd listen to me... That mental image returns—him pressing me against the bathroom wall, one hand digging into my hair, the other between my thighs.
Pete shakes his head. "Jess, if you're going to think about me naked, you could at least have the decency to describe the scenario to me."
Uh. I stammer something incomprehensible.
I suck down my iced coffee but it's no help cooling me off. I'm still melting. Better change the subject. "No, I, uh, I'm going to law school in the fall—" I cross my fingers. I know the gesture doesn't change the chances of my loan going through, but I'll take any ounce of luck—"and getting caught having sex in public is frowned upon."
"I'll make sure you don't get caught," he teases.
The flush spreads to my chest and stomach.
Must focus on picking out frames. That or I'm going to push him onto the couch in the corner, rip off his jeans, and take him right here.
Ahem. The pink glasses are cute. But are they too cute? I try them again and glance at Pete. "What do you think? Too librarian?"
"Sexy librarian."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Like you're gonna drag me to the erotica section and read aloud until I take you against the wall."
"You're trying to make me blush."
He shakes his head. "If I was trying to make you blush, I'd explain in detail."
"Go for it."
"You sure?"
I nod.
"I'd press you against the wall and take off your cardigan one button at a time. Then I'd tug your bra out of the way and drag my hands over your tits until you were licking your lips and groaning my name. I'd wait until you were begging to finally bring my mouth to your nipples."
My legs go weak.
He smiles. "Should I go on?"
"No thank you." Uhh... It takes me a solid minute to get my wits back. God damn, he's too fucking sexy. I can barely stand. Deep breath. I hold up my glasses. "I've decided. I want these."
He nods and calls the shopkeeper.
She pops out of the backroom and waves with a smile. "I can take your prescription back here whenever you're ready."
"Sure." I motion towards the back room.
He nods go ahead. His lips curl into a smile. "We'll have an hour to kill waiting for her to fill your prescription."
I nod.
"I have an idea about how to fill the time. I'll tell you when you're done."
CHAPTER THREE
I never thought I'd be so disappointed to eat ice cream.
We buy scoops at a shop across the street and take them to a beautiful park. The big yellow sun casts a glow over the half green, half brown grass.
The people here are as gorgeous as the scenery. It's not like Long Island. Everyone is fit with trendy clothes, fresh makeup, and recently styled hair.
I smooth my French braid reflexively. I'm sweating and my taped together glasses refuse to stay on my nose. I push them up but it does little good.
Pete leads me to a shaded spot under a tree. He sits, his back against the trunk, his legs spread wide with invitation.
I'm tempted to slide between them, to rest against his chest and soak in the comfort of a body against mine. It's lonely out here, by myself. Work has left me too tired to accept invitations to hang out. It's easier to stay home and read. Books never ask me to lie to them or stab me in the back.
Instead of giving in to my desire to mount Pete, I sit on the grass. I take a generous bite of my mint chip ice cream. The sweet treat does nothing to refresh me.
My eyes fix on Pete. On his tongue specifically. It's fascinating watching him lick ice cream off the spoon.
He catches me staring.
I make the first excuse I can. "I've never tried that flavor. Green tea?"
He cocks a brow. "That's what you’re thinking?"
I nod. He shakes his head playfully but doesn't press the subject.
Getting close is risky but I have to know more about him. I keep my eyes on his. "You've been sleeping around a lot."
"That a crime?"
"No. I'm curious. Do a lot of women act like the brunette did, interested in the idea of you?"
He nods.
"Any reason why you're sleeping around?"
"Wouldn't put it that way." Pete digs his spoon into his ice cream. "You didn't look me up?"
"No. Seemed rude. I can't quite remember the gossip. Didn't you have a serious girlfriend?"
He nods. "We broke up a few months ago."
"Oh." That explains a lot. "Is that why you're sleeping around, to get over her?"
"Close your eyes."
"Excuse me?"
He nods to his ice cream. "I want you focused on the taste."
"Sounds like a line."
"Don't need a line. You already want to fuck me."
I say nothing to confirm this.
He stares back at me with a demanding expression.
Okay, I'll play along. I close my eyes. My lips part of their own accord. My tongue waters with anticipation. There. The spoon slides into my mouth. The cold, creamy treat is delicious. It's rich with an earthy flavor.
I swallow the dessert, blink my eyes open, and stare back at Pete. He's trying to hide the pain in his expression but it's there, clear as day. As clear as mine.
What would it be like if we let the walls around our hearts down and had an honest conversation? I've never done that before. Not even with Madison. I was always trying to protect her from how bad things were with Dad.
I deflect or throw out white lies without thinking about it.
It's scary, telling Pete the whole truth and nothing but the truth. But there's something intoxicating about it.
I finish my ice cream and stare at the big, bright sun.
A voice breaks my concentration. It's high pitched, a girl about twelve or thirteen.
"Oh my Gosh!!! I... Are you really Pete Steele?" she squeals.
Pete is a good sport. He nods hello and extends his hand. "What's your name?"
"Alexandra." She smiles at him and thrusts her phone into his hand. "Will you sign this?"
"You get permission from your mom?" He nods to a twenty-something woman sitting on a park bench and staring at us.
"That's my nanny," the girl says. "And it's fine. Please."
He pulls a marker from his jeans, signs her phone case, and hands the device back.
The girl stays put. She motions to me, clasps her hands together, and squeals. "Is this your girlfriend?"
Pete's lips curl into a smile. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. Play along? The girl is excited. I'll play along.
I smile at the girl. "Yes. But it's a secret."
"Why?" she asks.
"Her father doesn't approve," Pete says. "You can keep a secret?"
"Of course," the girl squeals. She continues to stare at us. "She's really pretty."
My cheeks flush. Kids her
age are not usually so complimentary. "Thank you."
"If she's your girlfriend, you should kiss her," she says.
Pete laughs. "Alexandra, you should be a lawyer one day. Like Jess. She's going to law school. And she's shy."
This does not please Alexandra.
"No, she's right." My cheeks flush. "You need evidence to support your claim."
"Future lawyers have to stick together?" He raises a brow.
I nod. Yes, that's my testimony. It has nothing to do with how badly I want him kissing me.
My heart thuds against my chest. My stomach flutters.
His hand slides around my neck. He's actually going to kiss me.
Pete's fingers dig into my skin as he pulls me closer. The strength of his touch erases every other thought in my brain.
His lips brush against mine.
Every nerve in my body fires at once. His lips are soft, sweet, and slightly sticky. He tastes like that green tea ice cream. And underneath that is something that is just Pete.
My hand digs into his thigh, into the fabric of his jeans. Heat collects between my legs.
But he pulls back. It's nothing. Barely more than a peck.
I want more.
I want him kissing me again, kissing me like he means it.
A lightness spreads through my chest. It's a terrifying thought—asking him to go home with me—but it's exhilarating too.
Alexandra blushes and runs back to her nanny.
He shifts back into his seat. "You made her day."
"You made her day." I play with my spoon, stirring the melting chocolate into the melting ice cream. "My friend back home, Kathryn, she has a lot of boyfriends. A new one every few months. Once I asked her why and she said 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.'"
"I'd rather be on top."
My cheeks flush. "Really?"
He nods. "I can list my favorite positions if you'd like."
He smiles, reveling in my nervousness.
God, it's hot today. I shift into the shade but that puts me six inches from Pete. It doesn't help cool me down.
"Your friend sounds like Miles, our singer." Pete shakes his head. "You'd like him. He was going to be a lawyer."
"He's the one who tattooed his girlfriend's name on his chest?"
Pete sticks his tongue out in distaste. "You secretly a stalker fan?"
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 2