"My dad is gonna die. If I don't do anything, he's gonna die." I stare back into his eyes. "How am I ever going to live with myself?"
"One day at a time." He finds the tie holding together my French braid and pulls it out. "You told your sister you can't save him unless he wants help. You believe that?"
"Yeah."
"You deserve to be happy, Jess." His gaze goes to the ground then it meets mine. "I'm not going to let you make yourself miserable."
"There's only a week and a half left of this non-relationship. You don't have a say over what I do."
He stares back into my eyes. "I blamed myself for my dad's accident. But trying to help him—" He takes my hand and brings it to his thigh. He presses it against his jeans so hard I can feel the outline of a scar through the denim. "Every time, I was the one who got hurt. I'm not going to let you get ground to nothing trying to save someone else."
"What if I'm kinda not really dating this guy who keeps playing with my feelings. What will you do then?"
His lips curl into a smile. "Kick his ass."
"How does that work?"
"Not sure yet."
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
His expression gets intense. "Are you there yet?"
I laugh. That response is ridiculous, but it's perfect too. "You sound like a kid on a road trip."
He runs his fingers through my hair. "Tell me when you're there."
"But... what about... isn't this doomed to not be forever? Aren't you set on not falling in love?"
"I was." His eyes turn down. "I can't promise shit, Jess. I've been doubting myself since I found out my ex was fucking my best friend. The only two people who knew me as a guy and not a celebrity and they thought nothing of betraying me. What the fuck does that say about me? Been trying everything to make the doubt stop. Only thing that works is being with you."
Something inside me melts. I make him stop doubting himself. It's very difficult to tell my feelings to slow down. This isn't a confession of love. It started with I can't promise shit.
But it feels like one.
His eyes meet mine. "Thing is—I'm not a gentleman. Once I decide I want you to be mine, that's it. I'm going to do everything it takes. Even if you're better off with some guy who isn't fucked up."
"I like that you're fucked up." I drag my fingers over the soft skin of his neck, sinking into his body. "We can be fucked up together."
He smiles.
I melt. That smile is the most beautiful thing in the history of the world. "Besides, that guy probably wouldn't have sexy tattoos."
Pete laughs. "Probably won't be a millionaire."
"Certainly won't be as good a musician as you are."
He nods.
"Probably won't kiss as well as you do. Remind me about that."
"That's your line?" He cocks a brow, shaking his head like he finds my story ridiculous.
"You don't like it?"
"No, I do. But I'd rather you ask for what you want."
I press my fingertips into his skin. "Kiss me."
Pete slides his hand to the back of my head and pulls me into a deep, slow kiss. Mmm. For the first time all week, I feel good.
The pain around me fades as I sink into the sensations in my body. His lips are soft. His tongue is aggressive. His arms are hard against mine.
I blink my eyes open and stare back at Pete. "He definitely won't kiss as well as you do."
"You think that's good, just see how well I fuck."
"That's a worse line than mine."
He smiles. "You saying you don't want to?"
"No." I slide my hands through his short, thick hair. "I want to. Soon." My eyes rake over him, slowly. He looks tired. Like he's as worn out as I am. "Have you been as miserable as I have this week?"
He nods. "Yeah."
I stare into his eyes. They're filled with affection. "So that whole thing about not wanting a relationship... not wanting to fall in love. You changed your mind?"
"Getting there."
Okay. He still doesn't know how he feels. Right now, I can live with that. I can live with anything but the sinking feeling that I'm sentencing my dad to death.
"I don't want to think anymore," I say. "Help me stop."
He pulls us to our feet. His eyes lock with mine as he presses his palm flat against my lower back. "You won't even know what day it is."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Pete pushes his bedroom door open so hard the knob leaves a dent on the wall.
He shakes his head. "Fuck it."
"You're leaving this place soon, aren't you?"
"No thinking and no talking." He slides his hands under my ass. In one smooth movement, he lifts me and throws me on the bed.
His eyes rake over me, slowly, like he's never seen me before. Like he's never seen a woman before.
"I like when you talk," I breathe. "I like it a lot."
"I know." He stares back at me, intense and demanding. His voice is just as hungry as his eyes. "Take off your top."
I undo the buttons of my blouse. His eyes go wider with every one. I'm not in the mood to tease him. I want to be possessed by him. Now.
But the way he's looking at me makes my sex clench with delight. I slow. He stays standing. His eyes stay fixed on me.
Finally, I push the shirt off my shoulders. Hands back, chest out—I'm confident, seductive.
"Now the skirt," he breathes.
Mmm. My hands are shaky when they get to my waist.
I unzip the garment and slide it to my knees.
Pete's hands are at my ankles. He pulls the skirt off my feet and hurls it to the floor like the garment did him some wrong. "Now the panties."
"Kiss me first."
He climbs onto the bed. In an instant, his body is on top of mine. I sink into the not quite firm enough foam mattress. His lips press against mine. They're soft. They taste like him. And like whiskey. Was he drinking alone?
His tongue slides into my mouth. The taste is there too.
Pete breaks the kiss. His palms go flat against my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. "You're thinking."
"You taste like whiskey."
"Have one drink most nights."
"I'm not mad. Just... it distracted me."
He plays with the straps of my bra, his eyes fixed on mine. "No thinking."
I'm confident and seductive. I can do this. "Make me stop."
His lips curl into a smile. "You baiting me, baby?"
My heart thuds against my chest. He called me baby again.
"Fuck. Sorry." He shifts his hips, pressing his hard-on against my crotch. "Hard to think in this state."
"Don't be sorry. I like it. If you mean it." I stare back into his deep brown eyes. I can't have this conversation right now, but I can't deal with him calling me by a pet name if he's going to dial back his affection tomorrow. "Only say it if you mean it."
He nods. "Don't move."
I can't move. He's straddling me, his knees planted outside my hips. The weight of his body presses me into the bed.
Even if I could move, I wouldn't want to. His cock is pressed against my clit. My underwear and his jeans are in the way.
He reaches for something in the bedside drawer. I rock my hips. Instantly, his palm presses against my shoulder.
"Don't move." His voice gets firmer. It's a command.
My sex clenches. I like him commanding me.
I nod a yes.
He pulls a bottle of lube from the drawer. And a vibrator. It's a long, cylindrical thing—sleek, black, classy.
"Is that new?" I ask.
"Yeah." He tosses both on the bed then shifts back, so all his weight is on top of me.
"What's that for?" I ask.
He cocks a brow. You'll see. "Take off your bra."
I arch my back so I can reach it. With a flick and shimmy, it's gone.
His eyes rake over me again. This time, it's slower, like he's soaking in every inch of my skin.
&
nbsp; His fingertips skim my glasses. His eyes lock with mine as he pulls the frames off. He's endlessly patient about folding them and setting them on the bedside table.
Is he going to call me baby again?
Does he mean it?
I'm thinking. I've got to do something to make it stop.
I bring my hands to my chest and play with my nipples. It's not nearly as good as when he does it, but it still sends flicks of lust to my core.
He takes my wrists, one in each hand, and brings my arms over my head.
"You want me to tease you?" His voice gets low, hungry.
"Yes," I groan.
"Gonna do it till you beg me to stop." He pins my arms to the bed.
My sex clenches. He presses his lips to mine for a quick second then they're gone. It's barely a kiss.
He does it again.
Again.
I go for the back of his head, to pull him closer, but his hands stay on my wrists.
His lips brush against mine. Again. Again. I can barely taste them. Barely feel their softness.
I arch my hips, pressing our bodies together. He's still hard. He's so fucking hard but he stays firmly in place.
His hands stay tight against my wrists as he teases me with almost kiss after almost kiss.
I press my thighs together. Anything I can do to contain the ache in my core. He's barely getting started. I'm not sure I can handle this.
It feels like an hour passes. More likely, it takes thirty seconds for him to finally kiss me properly. My lips part. Relief floods my limbs as our tongues dance.
Who knew a kiss could make me this fucking hot?
The man is a tease, but he delivers. Pete kisses me long and hard before he moves his beautiful torture to my neck. His lips press against my skin, feather soft. Then harder. Wetter. His tongue flicks over my collarbone. His lips brush my areola.
Almost.
He kisses his way to my other breast. Again, he teases, his mouth everywhere but my nipple. The moment he releases my wrists, my hands go to his hair.
I don't guide him. Only dig my hands into his locks. He's driving tonight and I'm along for a hell of a ride.
Tension builds in my core. Maybe it's possible to come from anticipation. It sure as hell feels like it.
A sigh escapes my lips. I need more of him.
Finally, his tongue flicks my nipple. Fuck yes.
Pete looks up at me. "You want me sucking on your tits?"
I groan a yes.
He draws circles around my nipple with his soft, flat tongue. Then his whole mouth is on me, sucking on me so hard I scream.
"Don't stop." I tug at his hair. "Promise you won't stop."
He moves to my other nipple and takes it between his lips, sucking hard. My sex clenches. This feels fucking good, but I need more.
Need him.
He presses his lips against my stomach. "You want my tongue in your cunt?"
"Yes," I groan.
"Good. Want you coming on my face. The first time."
"What about the second time?"
"Haven't decided."
He kisses his way down my stomach. Still, he teases. One hand pins my leg to the bed. The other goes straight to my inner thigh. He watches me, gauging my reactions as he rubs my skin with his thumb. Closer and closer and closer.
My breath hitches. I nod a yes. Please. Now.
His expression is intense. As merciless as he is with his teasing, I trust him with my body. Trust him to get me off.
His thumb brushes against my clit. My sigh of relief goes all the way to my toes. I'm already close. A few motions of his finger and I'm at the edge.
"Pete," I breathe. "I'm going to come."
He pulls his thumb away, pins my other leg to the bed. Then his mouth is on me, his tongue lapping at my lips, plunging in my core, flicking against my clit.
"Pete," I groan. "You feel good. Promise you won't stop."
He presses his lips to my thigh. "Not until you beg me to."
With his next flick, I go over the edge. The tension is so heavy I can barely breathe. It hurts in the best possible way. A wave of pleasure crashes into me as I come.
"Pete." I tug at his hair but it does nothing to contain my orgasm. God damn, he's amazing at this.
His mouth stays on me. He's more aggressive, his motions focused on my clit. Is it even possible to come again? I feel spent. It's intense enough it hurts. Not enough for me to ask him to stop. Begging him—out of the question.
My legs sink into the bed. My hands sink into his hair. A few more licks and I'm at the edge again. This orgasm is hard and fast.
He doesn't relent. Keeps licking me. Keeps pushing me closer and closer to the edge. It's too much. Too intense. It hurts.
"Stop. Please. I can't take anymore." I tug at his hair.
He shifts, kissing his way back up my body. This time, there's no teasing. His lips sink into mine. His tongue plunges into my mouth.
Mmm. I groan into his mouth. Dig my hands into the hard muscles of his back.
He takes my hand and brings it to his cock. Damn, does it feel like I've been deprived of this. Soft skin but he's rock hard. I rub his tip with my thumb, soaking in the feeling of his shudder against my hips.
Pete breaks the kiss. He stares into my eyes, confident and needy at the same time. "Where do you want my cock, baby?"
He called me baby again.
It's difficult to think in this state. But his expression—there's no frustration, no confusion, no doubt. He means it.
"Here?" He slides his thumb into my mouth. His other hand goes between my legs. "Here?" Then his hand is flat on the flesh of my ass. "Or you want me to finally fuck that gorgeous ass of yours?"
"I've never... will it hurt?"
"A little." He stares back at me. "If you don't answer, I'm deciding for you."
I nod. "Yes. I want to... want you..."
"Want my cock in your ass?"
My cheeks flush. "Yes."
He shifts to the side of the bed and rearranges me so I'm on my hands and knees. "Spread your legs, baby."
My insides melt. How can it feel so sweet—him telling me he's going to fuck me in the ass?
I move as much as I can.
He lets out a sigh of pleasure. "Fucking beautiful."
I groan.
He grabs the vibrator and the lube and places them next to his ankle. His voice is steady, reassuring. "I'll ease you into it." He squeezes the lube. "Trust me."
I do. God how I trust him.
His finger brushes against my anus. That's enough to surprise me—my ex never even mentioned an interest—but I'm not tense or scared.
I'm excited.
I want him somewhere no one else has been.
He spreads my knees wider. Spreads my cheeks apart. Slowly, his finger slips inside me.
I let out a sharp gasp. It's different. Intense. I take deep breaths, until it feels more good than surprising.
"Keep going," I groan.
He slides his finger deeper. I lose track of everything but the sensation. I trust him to gauge my reactions. Trust him with my body.
He takes his time warming me up. More lube. A second finger. Even more lube. Then his hand is gone and his cock is nudging against my ass.
Slowly, he slides inside me.
My knees go wider, my body opening for him. The physical sensation is intense but it's nothing compared to the feeling of offering myself to him.
He's slow about going deeper.
It's different. Really fucking different. After a few more slow thrusts, I forget about comparisons and focus on the pleasure spreading through my body. On the sounds of his groans. Of his nails digging into my thigh.
The weight on the bed shifts as his clean hand grabs something. There's a buzz. The vibrator.
Pete presses it against my clit. A shock of pleasure goes through me. I groan. My knees threaten to buckle.
"You want this in your cunt, baby?" He drags the toy over my sex, u
ntil it's teasing me.
"Yes," I groan.
He teases. Again. Again. Again. All the while, he fucks my ass with those same slow strokes.
Finally, he slides the toy inside my core. I'm filled everywhere. It's intense. Naughty. I can't place one sensation or another. Only pleasure.
Pete groans. "God damn. You feel fucking amazing."
The hand on his hip leads me over him, so I'm fucking him and the toy at once. My sex clenches. I'm so God damn filled. It's overwhelming.
Within moments, I'm at the edge. There. I grip at the sheets as I come, the toy still inside me.
"Say my name," he demands.
I scream it.
His voice gets low, his groans guttural. He's close. I turn back to watch the pleasure fill his face. It's a beautiful sight, his eyes rolling back in his head, his lips parting, first with a sigh and then with my name again and again.
He moves faster. Just barely. I can feel his cock pulsing as he comes. It's different. More like I'm at his mercy.
When he's done, he collapses next to me. He kisses my neck as he presses the still vibrating toy against my hip. "You want another?"
"Not right now."
He turns off the toy and pulls me off the bed. "I'll give you a shower to recuperate."
His lips curl into a smile. He's teasing but I have no doubt he'll deliver.
We take a long, hot shower together. He presses his body against mine, pinning me to the wall, kissing me hard. It's wonderfully slippery and wet and the perfect clean to how damn naughty I feel.
I'm about to turn the water off when he slides his hands around my hips and brings his lips to my ear.
"Changed my mind," he groans. "I want to feel you come on my hand again."
I can't argue with that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sunday, Meg, Kara, and I hit half a dozen stores in search of the perfect dress. Meg settles on a short, hot pink number with matching wedges. She'll be taller than everyone in attendance, including her boyfriend, but she doesn't seem to mind. Kara is perfectly demure in a clingy navy dress that hugs every one of her enviable curves.
And I end up in a long, chiffon, pastel purple gown. It's the kind of girly thing I would have skipped to avoid one of Nathan's not quite kidding why don't you dress like a grown up taunts.
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 21