Actually, his car is too nice for this shitty neighborhood.
I turn to him as I unbuckle my seatbelt. "You sure it's okay to park here?"
He cocks a brow. "If you want to go to my place, ask."
"No, I just... this isn't a good neighborhood and this is an expensive car."
His deep brown eyes bore into mine. "You're worried."
I nod.
"You worry a lot?"
I nod a yes.
He shifts out of his seat then out of the car. I follow his lead, squeezing my purse against my shoulder reflexively.
Pete moves close enough to whisper. "You don't have to worry about me. I know how to handle shit. Don't come from money."
"Oh."
The look in his eyes tells me he doesn't want to discuss this. Anyone else, I'd back off right away. I don't push people's defenses.
But I want to know more about him. I want to tear down the walls around his heart.
I drop my voice to a whisper. "Where do you come from?"
His posture stiffens. "Lived in a shitty neighborhood when I was a kid. Inland empire. Riverside. It's nicer now. Back then it was meth central. We had drug dealers next door. I know how to defend myself."
"Oh. I'm from suburban Long Island. We don't have much crime. We don't have much besides chain restaurants and Westfield Mall."
"There a non suburban Long Island?" he teases.
"Haven't you read The Great Gatsby? We have The Hamptons. Technically, Queens and Brooklyn are in Long Island."
His lips curl into a smile. "Guy who didn't go to college can't have read a classic piece of American Literature?"
"No, I just mean—" My cheeks flush. "Have you read it?"
He nods. "It's no Hunger Games."
I laugh and lead him up the stairs, through the door, into my tiny studio apartment.
There's about two feet between the kitchenette and my twin bed and another two between my bed and the desk.
He shuts and locks the door. "You like Thai food?"
"Never had it. I'll eat anything but I'm allergic to peanuts."
He nods. "I know a place that's good with modifications if you want to try it."
"Okay..."
He moves close enough to run his fingertips over my shoulders. He pulls out his cell then stares into my eyes. "Trust me. I've got this."
I trust him a lot more than I should, what with us meeting twenty-four hours ago. I nod a yes.
"What do you like?" he asks.
"Vegetables."
He laughs. "Really?"
"Yeah. They're good. Red peppers are my favorite."
His cheeks crinkle as his deep, throaty laugh fills the room.
"What the hell is funny about red peppers?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just never met someone who loved vegetables."
"Let me guess. You have a manly love of red meat?" I tease.
"Wouldn't turn it down." He smiles. "Prefer shellfish."
"Expensive tastes."
He nods and motions one minute. Then he's on the phone, ordering delivery. It's nearly midnight but it's not a problem. We'll have our food in half an hour.
Thirty minutes with Pete. And there's my bed. It's a perfect situation, really.
But I can't sleep with him until I've made up my mind about this.
I'm not ready to decide. I reach for anything else I can discuss. "Do you really have expensive tastes?"
"Don't think about it like that." He motions for me to sit on the bed.
His posture is more I'm going to take care of you than I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming.
I sit anyway.
He moves to the kitchenette and opens the cabinets. "What do you have to drink?"
"You're supposed to ask permission to use someone's kitchen."
"Am I?"
I nod.
"You really want me to ask?"
"No. Just. You're kind of pushy."
"I know." He turns back to me. "What do you want?"
You with me on this bed. "Water. The only thing I have to drink is water."
He pours two glasses of water and hands one to me. Then he's next to me on the bed. My body likes where this is going. My head knows better—knows we have to reach an agreement before the fun naked on the bed part.
But my damn body has no patience. My heartbeat picks up. My knees press together reflexively.
Pete's expression is earnest. His defenses are down. It's the first time I've seen him like this. I can't waste this opportunity.
He looks me in the eyes. "Guess I'd say I appreciate that I have money now. Want to use it to enjoy life instead of spending it on shit that doesn't matter to me."
"Do you save?"
He chuckles. "Should have known you'd ask that."
I fold my arms and tease back. "And why is that?"
"There's nothing wrong with taking the safe route." His lips curl into a smile. "Yes, I save. Do you need a figure?"
"No... that's none of my business."
"But you want one." He chuckles. "You act all sweet, but you're nosy."
"It's natural curiosity."
"I'm not gonna tell you unless you ask." The last hint of tension falls off his face. "You want to ask?"
"No. That's okay." I scoot a little closer. "What's it like going from having nothing to having everything?"
"A mindfuck."
I laugh. "You're so eloquent."
"Thank you." He takes a long sip of water then looks back to me. "You want the answer I give in interviews?"
"Do you get interviewed a lot?"
"Jess, you're breaking my heart questioning my fame like that," he teases. "You're gonna have to stroke my ego to make it up to me."
I laugh. And think deliciously dirty thoughts.
"We talked about that imagination of yours." His voice is still light, still teasing.
"It's just... you're the bassist. I can't even name another bassist."
"Can you name a guitarist or a drummer?"
Uh... maybe. "Dave Grohl!"
"That's cheating. He's a singer now."
"Um... Tom Steele."
"Guess I didn't preclude Sinful Serenade." He laughs. "That was a real lawyer trick. You're gonna be a shark."
My heart sings at the thought of law school. I close my eyes and try to push the rest of my thoughts away. What is it I want, besides Pete's body against mine?
It's law school. My future.
I take a deep breath. I can ask him to pay for school. Somehow. Even if I feel sick over using him.
His fingertips brush my thigh. "You're right. I'm not as famous as Miles or Tom—he took it upon himself to became a social media star. Leaked nude pics. Long story."
"Are there any leaked nude pics of you?"
He cocks a brow. "You'd really invade my privacy like that? Cold."
"No, I wouldn't. I swear."
"I believe you."
His smile spreads ear to ear. I want to reach up and trace the lines it makes in his cheeks.
"Okay, you want the answer." He clears his throat and adopts a more prim and proper posture. Shoulders back, hands in his lap. "I'm grateful for every fan, every ticket or album or t-shirt we sell, every time someone streams one of our songs, cause it means I can focus on music and not on paying the rent."
"Is that true?"
He nods. "Mostly." His brow furrows. His shoulders lock up.
There's something else he doesn't want to tell me. I set my water glass aside and move close enough I can run my fingers over his palm.
"What about that isn't true?" I ask.
"I landed with my adopted mom, Ophelia, when I was a teenager, after my dad died." He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "She's middle class. Always knew I had my room waiting."
He skipped right over what happened with his dad. I want to know, but I can read his posture and it's screaming don't ask.
He shifts backwards. "Have you decided?"
Okay, he doesn't like having
this hanging over us. I'd like it out of the way too. But that means I have to ask for a hell of a lot.
Deep breath. I can do this. "Is it monogamous?"
He nods.
"There were a dozen models at the club who were picturing you naked."
"And?"
"And... it's not tempting?"
His brow furrows. "Don't understand the question."
"You have easy access to beautiful women—" I take a deep breath. I want to tell him. I want him to understand. "My ex cheated on me. We were days from breaking up but he didn't even respect me enough to tell me it was over before he started screwing someone else."
"I've been there."
Oh. That's why they broke up. That explains some of his no way am I getting into a relationship attitude. But now he's stuck in some ugly memory, his body turned away from mine.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.
"Not really. Do you?"
I shake my head. "I guess I'm the one who is jealous. I'm not sure I can compete with a lingerie model."
He turns back towards me. This time, his eyes pass over me slowly. "You fishing for a compliment?"
"Just being honest."
"All due respect to whatever the fuck her name was—she seemed like a nice person—but I'd take you any day of the week. You have gorgeous eyes, responsive tits, an ass I can grab onto."
How can responsive tits feel like such a compliment? My cheeks flush. I've never been so flattered.
"You're fucking hot, Jess. And I like you. There's no competition. I don't want another girl." He stares back at me with a look that says don't make me find another girl.
Okay. This is it. Either I go for it or I tell him to get lost.
I take a deep breath, preparing my response.
Here goes nothing.
CHAPTER NINE
I stare into Pete's gorgeous brown eyes. "I want to do this, but I have terms."
His lips curl into a smile. "You want to do it?"
God, that smile. It does things to me. "First, you need to explain why you need me to play your girlfriend."
"The short answer is that Aiden is a piece of shit who can't be fired—his uncle's the head of the label. Only real option is keeping him pleased. Usually, he stays busy doing drugs, but he's fresh out of a rehab stint four and he wants to feel important."
I offer him my hand. Something to sooth the furrow in his brow.
"His latest idea is that I need a nice, sweet girl on my arm. According to marketing, I test best as the enigmatic guy who's good to his girlfriend. Usually, I'd tell him to go fuck himself, but he's threatening to bury our next album." His eyes turn to the floor. "We're obligated to record it but there's nothing in the contract that requires them to release it or promote it. If that happened... Tom would lose it."
"If you're doing this for your brother, why not tell him?"
Pete pulls back. "Out of the question."
"Why?"
"Just is."
"I'm not doing this unless I understand why we have to lie to your friends and family. They're nice people. And they clearly love you." I take a deep breath. It helps break up the tension forming in my chest. "It's not going to be easy to deceive them."
He stares back at me. "Tom would fucking kill Aiden if he knew. And he'd be too pissed to be smart about getting away with it." He lets out a laugh. "Guess that's a fucked up way of putting it."
I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. Again, the frustration in his brow softens. I do it again. Again. Until his eyelids are pressing together and he's letting out a soft moan.
He's practically purring.
"You can't tell anyone," he says. "Tom will find out."
"And you like him thinking you're happy, so he won't worry about your ex breaking your heart, or how much it sucks that you don't live with your brother, your best friend anymore."
"Is it that obvious?"
"No, but I know what it's like when you feel like you've lost your best friend." My stomach clenches at the thought of Madison.
His fingers curl around my wrist. Gently, he brings my hand to my waist. His expression gets intense. "What are your terms?"
"I'm going to be me," I say. "No pretending I'm someone else."
"Wouldn't ask. Like you the way you are." His eyes stay glued to mine. "There will be events, shit where you're expected to look a certain way. But you look fucking fantastic now. You'll be fine."
His eyes rake over me. Once again, my heartbeat picks up. My sex clenches.
Lust makes it difficult to concentrate. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. This is a big ask, but it's the only way I can secure my future.
I pry my lids apart and stare at him with all the confidence I can muster. "I want you to pay my tuition for the entire year. Plus living expenses."
"Done."
"That's it, done?"
"Yeah. Anything you want besides money? I've got money."
"I don't have money, and I have a strict policy of not asking other people for it." I do nothing to swallow my irritation. "It means a lot to me, being able to go to school without worrying about making rent."
He nods with understanding. "I get that."
"I don't want to take advantage of you," I say. "I wouldn't ask if I had another way to pay for school."
"I know."
"How?"
"I can tell." He shifts closer. His eyes find mine. "I want you to live with me. I have air conditioning."
Tempting.
"And a pool."
More tempting.
"I skinny dip every night."
Incredibly, painfully tempting. But it's still out of the question. This apartment is mine. I spent hours arranging the flower decals on the walls. I perfected the cacti garden on the windowsill. This is the first time I've ever had my own space. I can't give that up.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not leaving this place without a good reason." I look Pete in the eyes. It takes great restraint not to crumble and beg him to take me to his place for skinny dipping under the moon.
"There's a lot of fame bullshit. You sure you can handle that?"
"No. But it can't be worse than giving up on law school." I offer my hand to shake. "Do we have a deal?"
"Yeah. I'll take care of the money tomorrow."
We have a deal.
I'm going to law school.
Screw the handshake. I jump into Pete's arms, pushing him onto my bed and knocking his glass of water to the floor in the process.
He laughs. "You want something, ask."
"I want a hug."
He looks at me like he can't believe my response. Still, he pulls me into a close embrace.
I can feel his heart beating against my chest. Hear his steady breath.
It feels right in his arms. Too right. If I keep holding him, I'm going to fall for him.
The doorbell rings. Our food. He goes to get it. By the time I've cleaned the spill, he's back and the room smells like hot sauce and ginger.
"What is that?" I ask.
He sets the food on the counter and unpacks it, checking each dish carefully. There's a vegetable curry in coconut broth and a colorful stir fry with chicken and a dark sauce.
We eat dinner on my bed. Both dishes are flavorful and rich. Pete even admits that the vegetables are fantastic.
After we're finished, he clears the trash, lays me on the bed, and plants a long, deep goodnight kiss on my lips. His hand slides between my legs, skimming the edge of my skirt.
Then it's at his waist, and he's at the door, wishing me goodnight in a voice that says he knows I'm about to touch myself thinking of him.
***
The morning is beautiful. The air smells better. The sun shines brighter. Even the graffiti plastered over my shitty neighborhood is more appealing.
I take a long jog. It's hot but even that feels good. I don't have to worry about money for the next year.
It's unreal.
After a quick shower and a bowl
of cereal, I pick up my phone.
Pete: Check your admissions status.
I go right to my computer. USC website, login, loading.
There, in beautiful green letters: ENROLLED.
I'm a law student. Officially. My chest is light.
I'm a fucking law student.
I'm flying.
Jess: Thank you!!! You have no idea how badly I wanted this.
Pete: I have some idea what you look like when you want something.
Jess: That's different.
Pete: Still like thinking about you sighing and clutching at my shoulders because you're desperate to have my cock inside you.
My skin tingles with anticipation. I rub my eyes to check if I'm dreaming. It's right there, in text.
Damn, he's just as direct in text message as he is in person.
My phone buzzes.
Pete: I'll stop distracting you.
Jess: Thanks. I have a lot to do today.
Pete: How are you going to celebrate?
Jess: I don't have time. I have work. I have to pick classes. I have to call my dad.
Pete: Fuck that. We're celebrating. And you're quitting that job. I'll take care of you.
Jess: I don't want to take advantage.
Pete: You're not. I need you for those hours. I'm gonna work you hard.
Jess: Are you sure?
Pete: Yeah. How long have you wanted to be a lawyer?
Jess: Since I read To Kill A Mockingbird in eighth grade.
Pete: Really?
Jess: I know. It's too cute for words. That's what everyone thinks of me—blond hair, blue eyes, big glasses.
Pete: You dye your hair that color.
Jess: You're not supposed to accuse a woman of dying her hair.
Pete: Looks good on you.
Jess: Thanks.
Pete: I'm looking forward to dragging my fingers through it the next time you're screaming my name.
Jess: Are you trying to make me blush?
Pete: No. I'm making you wet.
Jess: I plead the fifth.
Pete: Stop dodging. We're gonna celebrate. I want to get you off after you get off.
Jess: Excuse me?
Pete: Try saying it.
Jess: It's too embarrassing.
Pete: At first. Then it's freeing. Try.
Jess: I'm going to have fun with you after I'm done with work.
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 6