Fuck him. I like it.
When I get home, dinner is waiting. Take out Thai food. And, better yet, Pete has the entire collection of The Hunger Games movies ready.
I melt into the couch all night, wake up in his bed, in his arms. I have to hustle to get to class on time, but I don't mind rushing. I don't mind squeezing in my homework when he's busy with wedding prep. It feels amazing being with him. Like we're a normal couple.
It feels amazing enough that I let myself forget about my dad, about next week, about everything but being with Pete.
***
I meet Kara at the airport Friday afternoon. Everyone else flew to Maui yesterday. The guys are rock stars—they can keep to whatever schedule they want. Meg skipped her Thursday classes. Willow took the entire week off. She is the bride to be.
Kara and I weren't willing to skip class. I'm not sure if that makes us admirably devoted or tragically workaholic.
She waits until we're settled in our first class—Tom insisted—seats to launch into real discussion.
"Are you excited?" she asks.
I nod. "Tom seems like a great guy. And Willow too. She almost cried over how happy she was that Pete was happy with me."
She smiles. "I almost cried. Pete's a great guy. And you two are adorable. Not just because you're all blond and blue-eyed and he's all tall, dark, and handsome. He lights up around you. He's gaga."
"I don't know about that."
"Trust me. He is."
How is it everyone knows my relationship better than I do?
"Thanks." I find my Kindle in my purse and pick out a YA novel about a princess finding love. "I hope you're right."
"Do you have any doubts?"
Shit. Not going there. But I don't want to lie either. I'm tired of tip toeing around things. "We haven't talked much about the future."
"You know musicians. They live in the moment. He'll figure it out. And if he doesn't—" She shows off her thick wedge shoe.
"I'm not sure you could take Pete."
She laughs. "No, I'm sure I couldn't." She shifts back into her seat. "Guys, they can be damn stupid sometimes. Don't let him run away from what he wants."
I nod. But she has it all wrong. Pete isn't a gentleman. He doesn't walk away when he wants something.
If he walks, it will be because he doesn't want me.
***
The Hawaiian air is sweet and sticky. It's late. Very late. But the warm air has me wide awake.
Even the airport parking lot is beautiful. The sky is a glorious shade of blue and there are tall, tropical trees everywhere.
We take a cab to the hotel and go directly to room 3045, Drew's room, for a combined bachelor/bachelorette party.
The massive room is mostly dark except for the light coming from the TV. Everyone in the band, plus Meg and Willow, is sitting on a couch or on the floor. The bride and groom to be are fawning all over each other. It's not very bachelor party. But it is cute.
There's a karaoke machine hooked up to the TV.
Meg stands to take her turn. She waves hello to us then waves us over. "Join me!"
"Water first," I say.
Kara nods. But before she can make it to the bathroom, Drew has her in a tight embrace. She's on her tip toes. He's leaning down. They have quite the height difference.
"Missed you, baby. It's been too long," she purrs.
"It's been a day." Tom shakes his head. "He's trying to upstage me."
"You're about to spend the week banging his sister. Let him have a moment," Miles says.
"Come on, Jess." Meg motions come here. "You must know this one. It's Lady Gaga."
"Then I know it." I take the other mic and join her in the sexy pop song.
When we're finished, we bow. Everyone claps.
Pete is still on the opposite couch, watching me with affection in his eyes. I swallow hard. Even if we're closer to a couple than to nothing, I need to keep attention off us and on the bride and groom to be. It's their day. I'm not stealing the spotlight.
I move to the couch. He looks up at me, sliding his arms around my hips then pulling me into his lap. My legs have a mind of their own. My knees plant outside his thighs. My hands go to his shoulders.
"Flight okay?" He finds the tie holding my French braid together and pulls it out.
My sex clenches. Usually, he does that before he touches me. "About as good as a flight can be. I'm exhausted."
"Sorry, Jess, but you're fucked tonight. You have to do whatever I say." Tom smirks. "Or whatever Willow says."
"What if I tell her to go to bed?" Willow asks.
"You'd really disrespect me like that, kid?"
She laughs.
On the other couch, Meg is in Miles's lap, cooing as he presses his lips against her neck. They look like they're about to fuck right here.
Meg pulls back with a sigh.
Miles adjusts her so they're in a less compromising position. "You gonna sing backup on the next single, babe?"
"No way in hell," she says.
He laughs. "A cover? You sure you can live up to the original. Hear that guy kills it."
She rolls her eyes but she's clearly enjoying his ribbing.
"A cover, you say." Tom pushes himself to his feet. He looks at Pete. "You want to take this one or should I?"
"You," Pete says. "I'll get the next one."
Miles groans, but there's a hint of delight in his voice. "It hurts Drew more than it hurts me—that polyphonic melody."
"I've heard the stories." Willow folds her arms. "No punching. Tom needs to be beautiful in pictures." She looks at Tom. "And don't punch Drew. He's my maid of honor. He needs to be even more beautiful."
Kara jumps in. "Oh, what do you say, baby? Will you wear some eyeliner tomorrow?" She runs her hand through his hair.
He looks at her like she's ridiculous.
Tom shakes his head. "Still can't accept he's in an emo band."
"Don't bait him!" Kara glares at Tom. "I want my baby in eyeliner."
Drew shakes his head but he's smiling. He looks to Kara then to Willow. "Whatever the bride wants."
Kara presses her hands together and throws Willow a pleading look. The girls giggle over Drew's obvious discomfort.
The giggles fade as Tom steps up to the mic. The man commands the attention of a room. It's easy to see why he's the closest thing the band has to a ring leader.
Tom winks at Willow. "This is for you, kid."
She laughs with glee. Her eyes get wide. That's true love. It's as clear as day.
Tom steps onto the coffee table. He does his best impression of Miles's throaty, breathy singing as he moves through the song. Come the second verse, he rips off his shirt and claws at his chest tattoo. It's a funny, and accurate, impression. By the time he's done, everyone is in stitches. Even Miles.
Pete turns to me. "You seduced?"
"What if I am?" I ask.
"Have to win you over." He plays with the bottom of my skirt.
"Ahem." Tom shakes his head with mock outrage. He nods to the mic as if to say your turn.
Pete smiles as he takes the mic. He programs in the next song, another Sinful Serenade number, and steps up on the table.
His eyes lock with mine. He motions to the mic. "Hold this for me for a sec."
I do.
He pulls his shirt over his head, stretching long and lean, showing off his chiseled torso.
"That's better." Pete takes the mic back. "Can't sing in a shirt. Where would all the pain in my soul go?" He winks at Miles. "Usually, I'd dedicate this to Mr. Webb, but this time, it's for the lovely Ms. James."
I take a seat and watch him perform. He's more animated than he was at Miles's place. He does a great job mocking Miles's breathy style, better than Tom did.
But there's more to the song than mocking.
I can feel the pain in his soul.
I fall back onto the couch.
He finishes the song to great applause. His eyes go to Willow. "Br
ide to be's request."
"Do another. Please!" She claps her hands together. "Pretty, pretty please."
"Anything for my adoring fans." He winks at Miles. Then at me.
Then he's back on the table, singing another Sinful Serenade song in a lovingly mocking way.
Every ounce of my attention is on him. The passion in his deep brown eyes. The exaggerated movements of his lips and tongue. The way he rakes his hand over his chest. It's an imitation of Miles but it's sexy in its own way.
When he's done, I'm thoroughly seduced.
"Oooo, my choice still?" Willow asks.
Everyone nods.
She claps her hands together in excitement. "Drew! Please!!!"
The guitarist groans.
"You're my favorite brother," she says. "This time tomorrow, Pete will be my brother-in-law, so you'll finally have competition."
"No competition. I win, hands down," Pete says.
Drew rolls his eyes but he's smiling. The guy isn't as uptight as he lets on.
Kara coos. "I'm going to have to drag you to the bedroom after this."
His eyes light up. He grabs the mic right out of Pete's hand.
Pete laughs, good natured. Happy.
It makes me all gooey, how happy he is.
He slides back onto the couch next to me. His arm goes around my waist. He leans in to whisper in my ear. "I'm glad you're here."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Our hotel room is down the hall. It's the same model as Drew's—a suite with a private bedroom and a big common area. The walls and floor are beige. The furniture is an intense shade of aqua.
I draw the curtains, pull open the door to the balcony, and let in the sticky sweet early morning air. Sunrise streaks the horizon.
It's humid and warm, like summer nights back in New York. For a moment, the thought of home doesn't sting. There were good times there, before Mom left, and after too.
Pete places his body behind mine. It should feel like too much—the warmth of him—but it's just as comforting in the sticky air as it is coming out of the freezing ocean.
He brings his mouth to my ear. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing important. Little things Madison and I did in the summers, like sunbathing in the backyard, or cozying up to our neighbor so we could use his pool. That was all her. I never really tried to seek out male attention."
He brings his hands to my hips and pulls my ass against his crotch. A small sigh escapes his lips.
It's nice feeling appreciated.
"You miss her, huh?" he asks.
"She's a lot of fun. The kind of person who shakes things up. She cares, too, about Dad. She hasn't given up hope yet, I guess."
He nestles his chin into the crook of my neck. "Have you?"
"One more try. Then it's done."
"And if he won't get help?"
"Then he's out of my life. Forever." I swallow hard. The heaviness doesn't come. It must be black magic, the way Pete's arms keep me light. The thought of losing Dad hurts, but it doesn't drag me down. With Pete holding me, I know I'll survive. "Hey. It's a wedding. Your brother's wedding. Let's talk about happy stuff."
"Are you happy?"
I turn and slide my arms around his waist. "Give me another hug and I will be."
He pulls me into a tight embrace. Front to front this time. This is just as comforting.
"I like when you ask for what you want." His voice drops, low and hungry.
"That is what I said, that I wanted to be assertive."
"Do it again."
Tell me you love me. "Kiss me."
He leans down and presses his lips to mine. It's not patient. In a moment, his tongue is in my mouth, exploring it like it's the first time.
When our kiss breaks, I say the first thing that makes it to my lips. "You still taste like whiskey."
"I can brush my teeth."
"It's okay. It was a bachelor party. Sort of."
Pete smiles. "Wish you'd met Tom this time last year. If that guy saw this, he'd flip his shit."
"That the bachelor party was you guys sitting around doing karaoke or that he's getting married?"
"Both."
"And your bachelor party?" My heart pangs at the thought of Pete marrying someone else. I go to my suitcase in search of pajamas. I need to get comfortable if I'm discussing something so painful. "All strippers and blow?"
He chuckles. "You know me too well."
I find a t-shirt and cotton shorts and take them to the bed.
Pete stays on the other side of the room. "You sure you're okay?"
"Sure? No." I do away with my tank top. Then my bra. The hunger in his eyes chases away the uneasy feeling in my gut. "They're really in love, Tom and Willow."
"Yeah."
I pull my t-shirt over my head. Can't have this conversation topless. It's revealing enough. "Is that what you were like with Cindy?"
The happiness drains from his expression. He doesn't look angry. More confused.
"You really want to talk about my ex-girlfriend right now?" he asks.
I slide out of my skirt. "Kind of."
His eyes stay on my bare thighs. They get wide as I do away with the panties too. "Not interested in using my mouth for conversation at the moment."
"I'm changing." I slide my pajama bottoms on. "See?"
"You know what you're doing."
Maybe. "Were you?"
"I did love her, yeah."
"You've never told me about it. About what happened. Not in detail."
"Not an exciting story." His eyes turn down. "Not much to tell."
"Tell me anyway." I pat the spot next to me. "I want to hear it."
His eyes stay on the carpet as he moves to the bed. He sits. Then his eyes are on me, raking over me. "Not exactly in the mood to talk."
"What if I say please?"
"Maybe."
"Pretty, pretty please."
"Fuck. The extra 'pretty' is my weakness." His eyes meet mine. "You want the whole story?"
"Yes."
He nods. "Feel like I should ask for something in return."
"You don't have to bait me to get my clothes off."
"I know." His eyes turn down. "Thought you wanted happy."
"Why don't you want to tell me?"
He doesn't reply. Instead, he settles into the bed. "We got together senior year of high school. Just after Mom was in recovery. Her being sick... I barely held it together. After that, I wanted to seize the day. All that shit. Cindy was cute. She liked me. Not sure we had much in common besides a mutual love of Michael Crichton."
"Really?"
"He's more than Jurassic Park. You ever read Prey? Timeline? Shit's addictive."
"Just... I thought you were all about facts and information. He's a little—"
"I was seventeen." He smiles. "It's not like The Hunger Games has consistent world building."
"You did not just insult The Hunger Games!"
"And if I did?" He raises a brow, baiting me.
"I'll shoot an arrow through your traitorous heart."
He smiles. "I like you assertive."
"Me too." Might as well push it further. I cozy up to the spot next to him. "You haven't distracted me, you know."
Pete nods. He takes a long time composing his next thought. "I did love her. We didn't talk much, but I've never been one for conversation."
"You talk to me."
"Yeah. It's different with you."
"How?"
"Actually have something to say."
My heart sings. Does he realize what he's doing to me? No, he must not. He's still focused inward, pulling his thoughts together.
He continues. "She liked listening to me play. Not bass but the guitar. Should have been the first sign." He laughs but there's a sadness to it. "I'd look at her art. She was a painter. Does graphic design now. Advertising. She's good. Always was. She got into Columbia, full scholarship. I told her to go. Not like I'm gonna get in the way of her future.
"
"Reasonable."
"Yeah. I didn't see the point of college. Didn't really have a chance. Knew the only thing I wanted to do was play bass. Stayed home. With Mom. And Tom. Sinful Serenade was only half formed. Didn't have Drew yet." His face scrunches in concentration. "Maybe. Dates blur together. We got serious pretty soon after I graduated."
"You look cute thinking."
"Don't tempt me to take those shorts off, Jess. It's hard enough as is."
My cheeks flush. "Okay. No more comments about how cute you are. Unless you put on your glasses. Then I have to jump you."
He cocks a brow. "What if we lived together and I wore them to bed every night?"
"We do live together."
"But if we shared a bed. Would you jump me every night when you saw me reading in my glasses?"
Mmm. I want him already. But I'm not getting derailed. Especially not with how hard my heart is pounding over this hypothetical living together, sleeping in the same bed scenario.
I clear my throat. "I suppose I'd have to have sex with you every night. If that works for your schedule."
He smiles. "I'll rearrange some things."
Pete leans in to kiss me. I get warm all over.
He pulls back. His eyes turn down as he speaks. "We were young and stupid. She never told me she wanted me to follow her. I never told her it would gut me to be away from Tom and Ophelia. We never shared like that. Waited for the frustrations to build up until feelings were insults."
I press my fingers into my thighs so I won't move too close. It's not enough. I need to be close to him. "Did you fight a lot?"
"Normal amount. The particulars aren't that exciting. Long distance meant we got to live in bubbles. I had my life. She had hers. Then we had this bubble just for the two of us. The three of them didn't connect. She couldn't go to my shows. I didn't know her friends, couldn't follow the gossip." His brow furrows. "It's hard to explain."
But it makes sense. "I think I understand. It's like having a pen pal. You communicate but it's not as natural as being in the same place as someone."
He looks at his hands, thinking. "When our lives did connect, when the bubbles broke, things didn't make sense. If she was home for the summer, we didn't know what to do together. The quick intense bursts—that was normal. A weekend to squeeze in everything we could. Or a long phone call that ends with... You want to hear this part?" He motions to his crotch.
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 22