Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4)

by Crystal Kaswell

  That might be worth lying to everyone else.

  His hand slides under my skirt. My thoughts fade away. My shoulders and back relax. I want to feel the way I did at the park, like there's nothing in the world but the two of us.

  Sex first. Decision second.

  I lean in to whisper. "Do we have to stay to talk?"

  "Have to clear something with Aiden but I can do it after."

  Mmm. After. I nod. "Yes please."

  "Yes please, what?"

  I can hear the smile in his voice. "Yes, please... will you... Do I have to say it?"

  He chuckles. "I'll get you there."

  His fingertips skim my thighs as he pulls his hand back to his lap. He pulls back enough he can stare into my eyes. I still can't figure out what the expression in his deep brown eyes means, but damn if I don't like staring into them.

  They're gorgeous eyes.

  That vulnerability returns. He blinks and it's gone. I shift backwards, breaking his touch. But it's too loud to think. Ethan's band Dangerous Noise is in the middle of their first song.

  They're good. Ethan is quite the attention whore on stage. He holds up his guitar, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt, teasing the audience with the promise to strip.

  The audience likes it.

  Pete stands and pulls me to my feet. He nods to Tom and Willow. "Excuse us."

  Tom raises a brow. "This is a classy place."

  Pete nods.

  Willow whispers something in Tom's ear.

  He smiles. "After Dangerous Noise."

  "You have too many pet projects," she says.

  "You work eighty hours a week, kid."

  "Sixty," she protests.

  Tom motions for us to go. He pulls Willow into his lap and runs his hands through her short hair.

  Pete slides his arm around my hips, pulling my body next to his. It's almost like he's tense over the happy couple's PDA. But that doesn't make any sense. He's not looking at Willow with any kind of romantic or sexual interest.

  The man is an enigma. I want to know more.

  He leads me to the back of the VIP area. There's a roped off area with a NO ENTRANCE sign. He scans the room. A cocktail waitress has her eyes on us. More likely, she has her eyes on him. She licks her lips hungrily.

  He could easily take her home. But he looks at her with apathy. He doesn't want her. He doesn't want any of the gorgeous models in this place.

  He wants me.

  Pete leans in to whisper. "Wait for me on the balcony. I'll lose her." He motions to the closed door in the corner of the roped off area.

  He wants to do this on a balcony? Damn. First the bar bathroom then this. He has a thing for public sex.

  I should say no. I'm going to be a lawyer. I can't get caught having sex in public.

  I try to force the word to my lips but it refuses. "What if we get caught?"

  "This is private property. They'll ask us to leave. That will be it." His eyes meet mine. "We can hold off till we get back to your place."

  I shake my head. I don't want to hold off. I want him. Now.

  I trust his assessment of the situation.

  "No. Let's do it now," I say.

  He nods.

  I wait for him to grab the waitress's attention and I sneak past the velvet rope. The door to the balcony is frosted glass. You can't see in or out. I turn the handle and check my footing. All good.

  We're overlooking the alley. No one can see us, not from the street, not from the club.

  No one is going to catch us. Not on camera—it's too dark for that.

  Thoughts swirl around my brain. I like Pete. Find him interesting. Hell, find him fascinating.

  Can I play his girlfriend without falling in love with him?

  I press my hands into the smooth metal railing. It's the only cold thing here. The sounds of the street—conversations and cars—flow into my ears, competing with the music coming from the club.

  There’s only one thing I know: I can't leave without being with him.

  Period.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A soft breeze blows over my arms. It's still warm. The city lights blur together as I take shaky breaths. I've never been this nervous before.

  The door pulls open and Pete steps onto the balcony. Already, the air feels several degrees warmer.

  How can I want him this badly?

  I barely know him.

  He pulls the door closed behind him, and slides his hands over my hips.

  Then he smiles and everything else fades away.

  His hands go to my shoulders. They slide over the straps of my pastel pink dress, over the backline and neckline until one finds the zipper that runs parallel to my spine. He leans in close enough to whisper. "Turn around."

  My sex clenches. His voice is deep and commanding. I want to comply.

  I turn around. My back arches as a sigh escapes my lips. My thoughts fade away. Until the only thing I can feel is the tingle of anticipation.

  Pete unzips my dress and slides the right strap off my shoulder. Then the left. The fabric collects at my waist.

  His hands skim my hips, under the dress, just over the thin satin fabric of my thong. Then they're on my ass, on my bare skin. "Your ass is fucking fantastic."

  My cheeks flush. "Thank you."

  His fingers dig into my flesh. Then they're on my hips again, playing with the straps of my thong. "Look at me."

  I turn so we're face to face. His expression is intense with desire.

  It does something to me, the way he's looking at me. Makes it even harder to stand.

  He moves closer, pinning me to the wall with the weight of his body.

  Dammit, that feels so good I can barely breathe.

  My eyelids flutter closed. I soak in the sweet sensation of his fingertips on my bare skin.

  I barely know him. We're in a semi-public space. We might get caught. Right now, that doesn't matter. Right now, the only thing that matters is his hands on my skin.

  His lips press against my neck. He kisses his way to my ear. My cheek. My lips. I rise to my tip toes, pressing my body against his.

  He's hard. I can feel him through his jeans.

  From the feel of things, he's massive.

  I arch my back to rub my crotch against his. There's too much fabric in the way. It's not enough.

  I groan as he slides his hand down my back.

  He catches my lower lip with his thumb. The touch is intimate. Delicate.

  I stare back at him as he drags his thumb over my lips. Then the digit is in my mouth. I press my tongue against the soft pad, sucking like I'm sucking him off.

  He groans a delicious low throaty groan.

  Pete pulls his hand to his side. "Close your eyes."

  I do.

  He plants a soft, wet kiss on my neck as he peels off my bra. His fingertips trail over my shoulders.

  He's slow about exploring every inch of exposed skin. That same anticipation builds inside me. This isn't enough.

  I know where I need his hands.

  But I can't ask... I can't dirty talk. No way.

  His kiss gets harder as he moves down my shoulders. His teeth scrape against my skin. He shifts lower, plants a kiss on my chest. Then lower. Lower. He's inches from my nipple.

  Lower.

  Almost.

  But he moves away, does the same to my other breast. I reach for him, rake my hands through his hair.

  The music from the inside of the club cuts off. The band is done. There's clapping then it's quiet enough I can hear our breath. Mine is more strained than his, but we're both panting.

  It does things to me, knowing he's as needy as I am.

  The way he's looking at me—he's teasing me.

  Baiting me.

  He wants me to ask.

  Can I do that? I take a deep breath, arching my back and tugging at his hair. It does nothing to change his path.

  "Please," I groan. My thighs shake with anticipation.

  "
Please what."

  My cheeks flush. "Are you going to make me say it?"

  "Hmm?" He plays dumb. Kisses his way back to my lips. Then his tongue is in my mouth, swirling around mine. He pulls back and stares into my eyes. "Say what?"

  God, I'm burning up. I must be every shade of red.

  He brings his lips to my ear. "You want me to suck on your nipples."

  I let out a much too loud groan as I nod.

  "Should've just asked," he teases. "Any other requests?"

  "You're enjoying this."

  "You aren't?" He presses his palm against my sex, over my panties.

  My response is a low moan.

  "You're wet." His voice is breathy, needy. "You want my fingers curling inside you?"

  My sex clenches. "Yes. Do that. And the nipples too."

  He smiles. "Close your eyes. I'll stop teasing. This time."

  Thank God.

  His lips sink into mine. Mmm. He tastes so good.

  My hands find their way to the edge of his t-shirt. Then they're under it, on his taut stomach. His skin feels good against my hands, like it's meant for them.

  Damn, he's a good kisser. He sucks on my lower lip as he pushes my thong off my hips. The undergarment falls to my feet. I step out of it and kick it away.

  I'm half naked on a balcony. With a man I barely know.

  I should care. I should be terrified. But I'm not. I want this more than I've ever wanted anything.

  Pete breaks our kiss to press his lips against my neck. My shoulder. My chest. Lower. Lower. Lower.

  This time, his lips close around my nipple. Pleasure shoots to my core. I sigh with relief as he sucks on me. Soft. Then harder. Harder.

  I yelp from the pressure. It doesn't hurt but it's fucking intense.

  He moves to my other nipple and does the same. I tug at his black hair, trying to keep my voice down.

  His hand slides up my thigh. Closer and closer. My legs shake. I press my back against the wall to keep my balance. It's been too long. I need him touching me.

  Almost.

  Almost.

  There. His fingertips skim my clit. He looks up at me, checking my reaction. I nod a yes. He needs to continue. All of this needs to continue.

  He strokes me.

  His hands are steady, the pressure light. I arch my back to pull him closer. Deeper. I need more. Need his fingers inside me.

  My cheeks flush as I try to force the words to my tongue.

  My hands go to his shoulders. "Please... Pete... I want you to... To do what you said."

  He flicks his tongue against my nipple. Is he going to make me say it? I let my eyes close. I take a deep breath. Okay... I can do that.

  In theory.

  I dig my nails into his shoulder. "I want your fingers inside of me."

  Immediately, one finger teases my sex. My body sighs with relief. I can do this. Can ask for what I want. Hell, I'm practically dirty talking.

  Conscious thought falls away as his finger slides inside of me. I arch my hips, spread my legs wider.

  I let his name fall off my tongue.

  "God, Pete." I arch my back to drive his fingers deeper. "Please don't stop."

  He kisses me hard. His tongue is aggressive, dancing with mine. I groan into his mouth. He needs to know how good this feels.

  Tension knots between my legs. I'm close to the edge. About to spill. And kissing him back isn't enough to contain my pleasure. My lips break free of their own accord, part of their own accord.

  No thinking. My hips shift, seeking the perfect angle. There. Pete stays in time with my movements, going faster, deeper.

  He's tuned to my body, playing me as expertly as he played his fucking bass guitar.

  With the next stroke, all the pleasure wells up inside me. I go over the edge, groaning his name as I come. I can't help myself. I don't want to.

  When I'm finished, he pulls his hand away.

  He keeps me pinned against the wall with his hips. His lips hover over my ear. "My name sounds good on your tongue."

  My cheeks flush. "Thank you."

  "I want to hear it again." His voice gets lower. "Can you handle more?"

  God yes. I want him inside me. I have to ask. Deep breath. I try to build the courage. But the silence of the song ending throws me.

  There's another sound. Something familiar.

  Oh no. It's footsteps.

  They move closer. Closer. Then there's a knock on the balcony door. A woman clearing her throat awkwardly.

  I turn, covering myself as quickly as possible.

  "Ahem. Excuse me..." Her voice wavers as she pushes the door open.

  "This is becoming a habit for you," I whisper.

  He nods with a cocky smile. "Rain check." He steps into the club.

  "Oh my Goodness. I didn't realize it was you..." She clears her throat. "If you need another few minutes, it's okay."

  Damn. Being a rock star has its perks.

  "We're finished." His deep voice echoes around the room.

  My bra and panties are flung over the balcony. That's not happening. At the moment, I'm not concerned. I'm on a cloud. Everything is light and easy.

  I zip my dress and step into the club.

  The waitress stares at me like she's determining whether or not I'm good enough for Pete. Her gaze goes back to him. She does not even bother trying to hide the way she's gawking at the still very visible erection straining against his jeans.

  "We'll get out of here," he says.

  "Yes. Of course." She manages to look into his eyes. "Are you two... together?"

  He looks at me for permission. When I nod he turns back to the waitress with a megawatt smile.

  "Yeah. But keep it between us," he says.

  "Of course." She looks Pete in the eyes, leans in close like he's a good friend. "I'm so glad you're moving on from that cunt, Cindy. You deserve better."

  Pete steps back. His expression fills with discomfort. Still, he nods a thank you.

  This woman has never met him and she feels comfortable calling his ex-girlfriend a cunt.

  Being rich and famous has its drawbacks.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tom and Willow are still cozy on the couch. They shoot us one of those I know what you were doing looks. I smile politely, feigning innocence as I grab my purse.

  Pete doesn't feign anything. He shrugs as if to say and so what if I was getting her off on the balcony? Or maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

  No, the way the brothers are exchanging knowing looks—they're communicating something.

  Again, the question nags at my insides. Why is Pete lying to his family? I understand him needing to maintain a public image. But why not tell his friends and family the truth?

  I can lie to strangers. I'm not sure I can lie to people who clearly love him.

  Pete pulls me into a hug. Mmm. It's difficult to think with his body pressed against mine.

  I rise to my tip toes so I can whisper in his ears. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

  He nods. "Give me ten minutes. Gotta talk to Aiden." He presses his lips to mine.

  I'm breathless when he pulls back and leaves in search of his manager.

  Tom and Willow have half their attention on me. The rest is on Ethan and another guy from his band. They're talking about music, but Willow keeps looking at me.

  Could be the conversation bores her.

  Could be she doesn't buy that Pete and I are dating.

  Could be a million things. No matter the case, I don't like the scrutiny. I need to clear my mind. Alone.

  "Excuse me. I'm gonna get some air." I point to the not off limits balcony. "Tell Pete I'm out there."

  "Sure." She smiles then turns back to her fiancé.

  Without my rock star faux boyfriend, I'm not a noticeable party goer. I have no trouble shifting through the crowd and stepping onto the balcony.

  There are two people smoking cigarettes in the corner. One is a musician known for sleeping with reality
TV stars. I had a crush on him back in high school but up close he's not nearly as appealing as Pete is.

  Damn, is it my fate to compare every man I ever meet to the sexy bassist? If so, I'm doomed. It's going to be nearly impossible to find someone who stacks up.

  I move to the empty side of the balcony and breathe in as much clean air as I can.

  I can get used to lingering hugs from Pete.

  I can certainly get used to mind-blowing orgasms.

  I can even deal with the looks people shoot me when I'm next to Pete—like I'm not hot enough to be a rock star's arm candy.

  Even though it means lying to his friends and family, his offer is tempting.

  I pull out my phone to check my loan application. No wifi and my data connection is slow. I hold the phone up as high as I can. There! It's loading. Loading. Loading.

  Denied.

  No.

  It can't be denied.

  I stare at the ugly red letters. They refuse to change. This was the last loan with a decent interest rate. There are others but I'll be paying them off until I'm forty.

  The half of tuition I owe for the semester—my scholarship covers the other half—is a solid six months of working nights and weekends at the bar. Twelve months for the academic year.

  I'm not sure how I can down that kind of money. I'm not sure I can ask for it either.

  I contemplate my choices but answers refuse to come. The energy of the air shifts, warmer and more inviting, and I know he's here.

  Pete slides his arms around me, pulling my body into his, my back against his chest, my butt against his crotch.

  "What's that for?" I ask.

  "You don't like me feeling you up?" He slides his hand to my ass.

  "No. I like it."

  "Mmm. Me too." He pulls me closer. "You good?"

  I nod. "Just hungry."

  "You want something here?"

  Deep breath. I barely know my name when he's touching me, but I know I want to have him again. I can ask for that. "Let's go somewhere quiet."

  "You sound tired."

  I nod.

  "Let's order something at your place."

  "Are we going to..."

  He slides his arm around my waist and nods to the exit. "We're going to talk."

  ***

  It's a quick drive in Pete's quiet as a mouse black Tesla. The luxury electric car is another thing I could get used to. It has cushy leather seats, freeze your ass off powerful air conditioning, and all sorts of fancy digital controls.