Just as I was staring at him, August was staring at me. I was in my panties and the thin tank top I wore under my over-sized shirt. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I recognized the look in August's eyes. Riveted, as if unable to look away, and full of scorching heat. I'd seen him look at me like this a few times before, but never with this intensity. Never with this much fervor.
"Sorry I woke you."
The taut muscles of his chest flexed as he moved to zip his pants. Disappointment welled up in my chest as the delicious V was covered up.
"It's okay," I said, the words almost a squeak. "It's loud. I couldn't really sleep."
"I can tell them to keep it down."
"No. It's fine. Let them party. I don't want to be a downer."
We stared at each other in silence.
"There isn't another room," August said eventually. "None of the suites had six bedrooms. Noah and I were going to share the one room with two beds."
I looked at the second bed, sheets smoothed and untouched.
"I'm sorry. I just took the first room I saw. I don't mind switching."
"It's fine. I can crash on the living room sofa."
Now that I was somewhat accustomed to the sight of his bare abs, I noticed he carried a cold compress in his hand.
"Did you strain your shoulder again?" I asked, concerned.
"It's just a little sore. It happens."
He held the compress to his left shoulder. He winced as the motion irritated his other arm.
"Need some help?" I asked, surprising myself.
August looked equally surprised. He recovered and sat on the side of the bed next to me, feet flat on the floor. I tugged a sheet to my waist, flushing. He watched me carefully as I took the cold compress from him, pressing it against the curve of his shoulder and neck.
"Performing every night must take a toll on your body," I said. "If you're hurt, you should tell the guys."
"It's not a big deal. Just the usual aches and pains." He met my eyes. "Promise me you won't tell them? They'd only worry for no reason."
"If you promise to take it easy."
"Sorry, can't do that."
"Because you always give one hundred and ten percent to your fans?" I guessed.
He gave a rueful chuckle.
"It's partly that. Mostly it's because I don't know how to take it easy when it comes to music. It's all I know. It's all I care about."
"Have you always been that way?"
"I banged on plastic toy xylophones and pounded away on pots before I spoke my first words. My mom and dad…" His lips turned down as he faltered, eyes downcast, before continuing on. "They were musicians. They got me started early."
I wondered at that slight pause when he mentioned his parents. They were musicians. Past tense. I didn't know anything about August's personal life. I was struck with the need to know more. I wanted to know everything about this man.
"Did they play rock music, too?"
He cracked a smile. "They were folk singers. Old school hippies. Furthest from rock and roll you can imagine."
"How did they react when their beloved son started a rock group full of screeching guitars and screaming lyrics?"
That melancholy expression returned. He turned his head to avoid my eyes.
"They didn't live to see it. They died in a car crash."
"I'm so sorry."
My heart ached for August. Losing your parents was one of the worst things a kid could go through.
"I was in the car with them," he murmured quietly. "I walked away with nothing worse than a few broken bones."
"How old were you?" I asked tentatively.
"Fifteen. My uncle took me in. We got along well, but I still moved out after a year. I'd already started making money songwriting for other artists, so I was pretty independent."
His lips twitched upward, some of the sadness retreating.
"My parents always said I was too mature for my age," he continued. "They wished I was out causing trouble with my friends, not holed up in my room making music."
"I'm sure they were proud of you."
"They were. Mostly. They worried I was growing up too fast. Missing out on my childhood." He craned his neck from side to side and rotated his shoulders, testing the muscles. "Looking at the way Cameron still acts, I don't think I missed out on much."
We shared a small smile.
August's gaze dropped to my lips. Nerves fluttered in my stomach as that heat returned to his eyes. We were sitting so close. The only thing keeping our thighs from pressing together was the thin cotton sheet. A part of me wished I hadn't pulled the sheet into my lap.
Inhaling deeply to calm myself, I breathed in his familiar earthy-sweet scent that now reminded me of black tea leaves.
I focused on the cold pack, pressing down firmly. August placed his hand over mine. I stopped breathing. He repositioned my hand closer to the joint of his shoulder, away from his neck. A few drops of condensation had beaded on the skin of his throat.
I got the insane urge to lean forward and lick those droplets off his skin.
Shocked by my own thoughts, I tried to pull back. August's hand on mine stopped me. His warmth was a stark contrast to my ice-numbed fingers. It spread from that single point of contact, from my hand, up my arm, and down my belly to settle between my thighs.
August shifted, bringing one leg up on the bed until our knees touched through the sheets and we were face to face. Staring into my eyes, he brushed the hair away from my cheek with a gentle touch. He tucked the loose strands behind my ear, the way my mom did when I was a kid. My heart ached at the sweet gesture even as my stomach muscles clenched.
With his hand buried in my hair, his gaze fixated on my lips. One soft thumb wandered to the corner of my mouth. My breath hitched. He slowly drew a line along my bottom lip. My mouth trembled, acutely aware of every swirl of his thumbprint against my now overly sensitive skin.
"What are you feeling now?" he murmured.
My throat tightened. I parted my lips to speak, but couldn't form a single word.
He slipped between my parted lips. The pad of his thumb brushed the flat of my tongue.
I inhaled sharply as a throbbing flared up between my thighs, my insides pulsing with need, with desire.
The taste of salt and earth flooded my senses. He tasted as good as he smelled. I wanted to taste more of him. I wanted to taste every inch of him.
His thumb left my mouth. I mourned the loss of it.
"Tell what you're feeling." His tone was soft yet demanding, coaxing an answer out of me.
"I—" My voice faltered. I cast my eyes down, unable to keep eye contact.
I saw I wasn't the only one in need. The hardening length constricted by his leather pants proved to me he was feeling much the same as me. I was filled with fascination at the size of him, the breadth.
He placed a finger on the point of my chin, tilting my head up.
"Cassie."
The way he said my name commanded me to look him in the eyes. The desire I saw must have matched my own.
I inhaled a shuddering breath and spoke softly, almost whispering.
"I'm aching inside."
The heat in his eyes flared up, turning carnal. The strength of his need was almost too much, too potent. It threatened to overwhelm me, as if he were a tsunami racing towards land, ready to submerge everything in its path.
The door flung open, a laughing couple stumbling in. Flushing hot, I scrambled back against the headboard, putting space between me and August.
"Whoops!" said the laughing girl as she dragged her companion out of the room. I vaguely recognized the man from one of the opening acts. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Continue on!"
They left, laughing and slamming the door behind them.
I put my hands to my face, mortified.
With a regretful chuckle, August stood from the bed. He turned his back and tried to discreetly adjust himself.
"We should get some sleep," he
said. "Long day tomorrow."
He headed toward the door. The party still raged on outside.
"Stay here," I said.
He turned to me slowly.
"I have the room with the two queen beds," I continued nervously. "You won't get any rest tonight if you try to sleep on the sofa."
He examined me closely. With a murmured thanks, he crossed the room and settled onto the second bed. He reached for the zip of his pants, intending to get undressed for sleep. My eyes zeroed in on his hands. His length was still half hard.
I flushed and looked away.
After a moment's pause, August flicked the bedside light switch off. Darkness enveloped the room.
I laid back and pulled the sheets to my neck. I listened to the rustle of August getting undressed. Listened to the rustle of his clothes hitting the floor. Listened to him slip under the covers.
Those leather pants had been tight. He likely hadn't been wearing anything underneath them.
I couldn't help but wonder if he was wearing anything at all to bed.
The image of August's nude body in my mind's eye sent that pulse of desire straight back between my legs.
Curling onto my side, I pressed my thighs together, squeezing, trying to alleviate the ache.
An ache I knew August was more than willing to take care of, if I only dared to ask.
Chapter Ten
Sunlight hit my closed eyelids. I grunted and rolled over. An odd whooshing sound hit my ears. Grumbling, I rubbed at my eyes.
Mornings. I hated mornings. I was always groggy and half-asleep until I had my first cup of coffee.
Moving on autopilot, the only way I knew how to function before ten a.m., I slid on my glasses, grabbed my toiletry kit from the dresser and lumbered toward the bathroom.
My sleep-fogged brain didn't register what the whooshing sound had been until I'd already pushed the bathroom door open a crack.
My mind immediately snapped into wakefulness at the sight of a naked body.
August's naked body.
My eyes roved over every inch, mouth gaping open.
It was blurry, hidden behind a frosted glass shower door. I could still make out his tall form, the lines of his arms and legs, his wide chest and slim hips. He was exquisite.
August made a low sound in the back of his throat.
I came back to myself with a start. I snapped my jaw shut.
No. There was no way I was going to stand here ogling August's naked body, as indistinct as it may be. He hadn't yet realized I was standing in the doorway. I could still get away without causing an embarrassing scene.
August grunted again. His head was bowed, one hand against the shower door. I caught the motion of his other hand, sliding up and down, his fingers curled around—
I swallowed a squeak.
Oh my god.
The size of him was… breathtaking. Literally breathtaking. My body instantly responded, breathing turning shallow, as if I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. My belly tightened. My inner muscles quivered.
He let out a quiet curse. I stood frozen as his hand sped up. Faster and faster it went, muffled sounds leaving his lips. With a final choked sigh, his hand stopped.
Without thinking, I whirled around and ran to the other side of the hotel room, heart pounding, fingers trembling. I dithered and paced and wrung my hands together.
I'd just walked in on August…
I couldn't even think the words. It was mortifying and fascinating and hot as hell, and god, how I wanted to open the door and climb in there with him.
The shower turned off.
I hastily threw on my oversized shirt from the day before to cover myself. I was still only in my tank top and panties. I pressed my hands to my flushed cheeks. I had to cool down before he walked out and saw me this flustered.
I'd just barely got my breathing under control when the bathroom door fully opened.
With my back turned, I pretended to sort through the items in my suitcase.
"You're awake."
"Just woke up," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady, lest I betray myself. "You done with the bathroom?"
"All yours."
I ducked my head and avoided his eyes as I brushed past him in the narrow hotel room hallway.
August caught my hand, halting me.
My breath hitched, flush immediately returning to my cheeks. The touch of fingers against my inner wrist had sparks flying through me. No doubt he felt my racing pulse.
I stared at the bathroom door, half of me longing for escape and half of me hoping he would never let go.
The door. My stomach dropped.
I'd forgotten to close it before I fled.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited long moments for him to say something. The silence was heavy.
He let go of my arm.
"I hung up my towel to dry," was all he said. "You can use the ones still folded on the shelf."
"Right," I croaked. "Thanks."
I dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.
Clinging to the counter, I stared at myself in the mirror, brown eyes wide and frazzled.
His scent clung to the steamy air. I breathed it in unwittingly. It didn't help calm me down. If anything, it fanned the flames higher.
He knew I'd walked in on him. He had to have known.
Moaning in despair, I banged my head against the mirror.
My only small consolation was that he didn't know how long I'd stood there gaping at him.
After chastising myself, I turned my focus towards getting ready for the day. He hadn't said anything. Maybe I could get through this without dying of humiliation.
When I was freshly showered and dressed, I peeked out the bathroom door. August was sitting on one of the living room area armchairs, a book in hand. He looked up when I stepped out.
"Have you got everything packed?" he asked.
"Just about."
I held my breath. He didn't say anything else. I let it out, relieved, and went about putting my things back in my suitcase.
I was concentrating on folding my extra shirts, trying to ignore August's presence in the room. I jumped with a start when his large palm came to rest on the small of my back.
"Did you make a note in your app?" he asked.
Every muscle locked up. I clenched my shirt in my hands.
"What do you mean?" I stammered.
He leaned down, lips touching my ear.
"When you walked in on me showering. Did you make a note of what you felt?"
The amusement in his voice made me tremble with embarrassment. The heated undertones made me tremble for an entirely different reason.
"I'm sorry," I let out a shaky breath. "I was half asleep and didn't realize you were in there and I didn't see anything, I swear."
August shifted until he was in front of me. I lowered my gaze.
"It's alright if you did." A wicked delight colored his tone. "I wouldn't have minded at all."
"You wouldn't have minded a total stranger walking in on you naked while you—?"
I cut myself off with a squeak, a hand clapping over my mouth automatically.
"You're not a stranger."
With a gentle finger under my chin, he lifted my head up, the way he had the previous night.
"You're Cassie Blake. You're a lovely young women who I've gotten to know quite well. You're a woman I'd like to get to know even more of."
"Walking in on someone naked really isn't the way most people get to know each other."
"Shall we start with the basics, then?"
"Basics?"
August went to sit on the edge of the nearest bed, letting me recover from his close proximity.
"My name is August Summers. I'm the drummer for Darkest Days. My favorite color is red. My favorite food is sour candy. My favorite book is The Giver by Lois Lowry. I like cats more than dogs."
He raised an eyebrow and gestured to me. "Your turn."
"You rea
lly want to know all that stuff?"
He smirked. "I could probably use my psychic powers and guess, but it's more fun if you tell me."
I took in a breath to steady myself. I gripped the dresser behind me, leaning against it for support.
"I'm Cassie Blake. I'm a photographer. My favorite color is purple. My favorite foods are a toss up between pasta and sushi." I had to think hard about the book question, going silent for long moments, before giving up with a shrug. "I have too many favorite books to name one, but I like Urban Fantasy. I also like cats more than dogs. My family has a cat named Fluffy. She's white with blue eyes and deaf. She still lives with my parents but she's getting old."
"My family never had a cat," August said. "My mom was allergic. I always thought it'd be nice to have one now that I'm an adult, but I'm on the road too much to take care of an animal."
"You could get some fish," I said with a small smile. "I always wanted a fish tank full of colorful exotic fish."
"I thought you liked sushi. Don't you feel bad about eating those poor fish?"
I made a face. "Thanks. Now I'm going to feel guilty every time I walk into a Japanese restaurant."
We shared a laugh.
"What about your favorite movie?" I asked, getting into the game.
"I'm not really a movie person. I mostly choose movies to watch based on their dramatic, epic scores."
"I get that. My favorite is The Sound of Music, mostly because of the songs, too."
"Why did you choose photography and not music?"
"It's raw," I said simply. "It's real. Tangible. A photo captures a moment in time that will never be repeated. If you don't record it, it's gone forever. I like the idea of making those moments real. Making them last forever."
I realized I'd started talking faster and faster, gesturing with my hands. I never talked like this about my work. I'd never really expressed why I liked photography to anyone else. I felt like maybe August would understand.
"I get that," he said. "Wanting to capture a moment, a feeling. I feel that way about my music." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Was it hard for you, leaving home to go to college?" he asked eventually.
Now that the conversation had moved to a serious place, I supposed he was going to start to asking more intimate questions. I was okay with that. I wanted him to know more about me, wanted to tell him something about myself before he guessed.
Hard Rock Deceit: A Rock Star Romance Page 6