Fuck. I grab the phone back. "How about you tell me what you want?"
"Does that work?"
"What?"
"Some random number sent you a nude and very specific instructions about what she'd like in return."
"Changing my number for a reason."
"Do you know that woman?"
I glance at the text. The woman did send a full-length nude, her face included. I've forgotten a lot of things, but I've never forgotten a fuck.
I don't know her.
"No," I reply.
"Does that happen a lot?"
"You're a nice girl, Piper."
"This must be the third or fourth time you've said that."
"We're not having this conversation." I delete the woman's picture and I block her number.
"I want beef pho," Piper says. "You should get it too. I'll show you how to fix it right."
"Isn't that the restaurant's job?"
"Sort of. You put in the toppings, so it's however you like. You have sriracha?"
"Yeah."
"Then that's it. Oh, and a Vietnamese iced coffee for me. It's sweetened condensed milk and iced coffee. It's good."
It sounds too creamy and syrupy, but now that caffeine, sugar, and casual sex are the only vices I'm allowed, I'm willing to consider it.
I call the restaurant and order our food. It will be thirty minutes until it's here. Fast for a holiday evening.
I leave my phone on the counter. Fuck, this is weird. This time last year, I was high as a kite, balls deep in some chick who didn't even bother to tell me her name.
And now I've got Piper in my apartment.
She grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and nods to the sink. "Do you mind?"
"No, make yourself at home." I wait for her to sit on the couch before I pour myself a glass of water. Don't trust myself to get close to her. I can't remember the last time I had a woman here and didn't come with her.
Don't think it's ever happened.
She turns on the TV and goes straight to the New Years Eve coverage, the one in Times Square where the ball drops.
None of the women who have been in this apartment would do that.
I can't help but let out a chuckle. She really is a sweet girl. This is how she should be spending her New Years—on the couch, watching TV.
Still, she's a pretty girl. I take a seat on the opposite end of the couch so my body doesn't get ideas about hers.
She waits for the show to go to commercial to speak. "So you and the blonde..."
"You're gonna keeping asking about this, aren't you?"
She turns her body to face mine. Her expression gets animated. "I'm curious."
I shoot her a please look.
"How does that work?"
"I'm sure Mal's told you about the birds and the bees."
"My parents gave me the talk when I was six. They're biologists. They love talking about primate mating habits. I understand how erections work. And I've... I'm just not sure how the whole groupie throws herself at rock star thing works. It's not like Ethan ever says yes to women in front of me. Or was she just some random chick at a party who didn't even realize you were famous?" Her cheeks flush. "You are an attractive man."
"You embarrassed about that?"
"No. You're hot. The dark hair, the dark eyes, the piercings, the tight jeans— you're the total package." Her cheeks and chest flush. "I don't mean... well I did see that you have a large... you're gifted that way."
God, she really is a sweet girl.
She's a breath of fresh air.
Most women are nervous around me because I'm famous. Not Piper. She's nervous because she has a crush on me. She doesn't exactly hide it.
"So, how does it go?" she asks. "Does she proposition you, then you check her tits, decide they're nice enough, and say yes?"
It's not far from the truth. It's more that I don't have a fucking clue where I want to be anymore, besides on stage. "She had fake tits."
"And?"
"I prefer natural."
"I nailed it, didn't I?"
I shrug.
"Wow, Kit, that's kind of... pathetic."
"Excuse me?"
She laughs. "Yeah, you'll just fuck any chick who has okay tits?"
"Wasn't fucking her."
"Let any chick with okay tits put her mouth on your genitals."
"I don't like you talking like this."
The joy drains from her expression. She's done teasing me. I feel deflated too. We were having fun. Now, we're not.
She turns back towards her side of the couch. "I guess you're going to say something about how sex is different for guys and it's okay that you're using some groupie chick cause she's using you too?"
I say nothing.
"That's Ethan's line."
It is. And it's true. Mostly. I look Piper in the eyes. "Have you ever?"
"Ever what?"
"Had sex."
"Oh... I... um..." She presses her lips together. Her gaze goes back to the TV. Her hand goes to the remote. She pretends as if she's fascinated by Kathy Lee Gifford interviewing some A-list actor.
Fuck, she's embarrassed she's a virgin.
That's the cutest thing I've seen in forever.
Hell, I don't think I've ever had a virgin in my apartment. Or my hotel room. Or within three feet of me. Not since high school.
Her cheeks turn red. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm cute."
"You are cute." I grab the remote so I can mute the TV. My fingers brush hers. There's something nice about it. Sweet. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin. It's better than having a lot of meaningless sex."
"Oh yeah? Are you going to tell me that the money and the fans are also a drag?" she teases.
"No, but you're a nice girl—"
"Say that again and this—" she holds up her glass of water "—goes on your head."
"You're not the kind of girl who gets something out of blowing b-list celebrities at parties."
"B-list? You flatter yourself." Her blue eyes light up as she smiles. "You really don't know me, Kit. You have no idea what kind of girl I am."
There's something in my chest, this warmth. I want to know Piper. Not just her body—though there is a part of me that wants that—but her.
I can't remember the last time I felt like that about anybody.
Most people aren't worth knowing. Most people will take what they can get from you and throw you away. Most people won't give a fuck about you.
I don't need a pity party. I have three people I can count on. That's a lot better than most people do. Dangerous Noise, that's my family. Mal, Ethan, and Joel are the only people in the world I trust.
Shouldn't be having this conversation with Piper.
But the way she's blushing is too adorable to resist.
I look into her eyes, daring her to stare back. "You can't even look me in the eyes while you say that."
"Because I saw you... it was awkward."
"Not for me." Or it wouldn't have been if it was any other woman walking in.
"Why not?"
"Haven't always felt the need for privacy."
"Oh."
"Are you a virgin?"
Her cheeks turn red.
I'm tempted to ask again, to see just how red she can get.
She cuts off my train of thought. "Yes. I've never done anything with a guy... anything more than making out. I like guys. I date. It just hasn't happened." She grabs the remote back and flips through channels. "You're right. Let's talk about something else."
The TV hits a rerun of Sex and the City. "Stop."
"You watch Sex and the City?"
"Yeah. I make fun of it with Joel."
"You do realize this show is too racy for nice girls."
"Not the TBS version," I say.
"Want to bet?"
"Yeah, loser buys dinner."
She shakes my hand. "You're on."
&n
bsp; Turns out, the edited version of Sex and the City is racy as hell. Still, I enjoy poking fun at the show with Piper. She's on the same wavelength about the perpetually single women being both endearing and frustratingly superficial.
When the delivery arrives, I'm glad to pay.
I would have insisted on paying either way. I'm glad to have an excuse—means we can skip the argument.
Piper takes the paper bags and sets them on the kitchen island. She pulls out all the containers—must be a dozen containers—and does away with their lids. She looks up at me. "Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome." I slide into the seat across from hers. It's weird how polite she is. I'm not used to it. "I've never had pho."
"You're a virgin too." Her cheeks flush. "I mean... It's easy." She hands me a pint cup filled with a floral broth. Then she hands me another cup of noodles. "Add the noodles, then the beef-" she points to the thinly sliced, completely raw beef. "The water cooks the meat. Then you add the toppings. I suggest cilantro, Thai basil, lime, and sriracha."
She puts her dish together with the kind of care most people reserve for playing the guitar or making love—not that I'd know about making love. The sex I have is fucking, plain and simple.
I'm more haphazard with my noodles. I only put that kind of care and attention into music. I'm not about to start equating noodles with the bass guitar.
I throw in a little of each topping. I'm about to add some dark sauce when Piper grabs my wrist.
She takes the packet of sauce and places it on the island. "That's hoisin sauce and you can't add it."
"I can't?" I can't help but smile. She's incredibly sincere about this.
"It ruins the flavor. Tastes like chemicals. Here." She opens the packet and squeezes it onto her finger.
Any other woman, I'd shoot her fuck me eyes and suck on her finger until she was panting with desire. But this is Piper. I suck the sauce straight from the packet instead.
"I'm not eating this." She wiggles her finger. "Eat it or get me a napkin."
"Fuck, I can tell you're a Strong. You're almost as bossy as Mal."
"Not even close."
I shouldn't lean it to suck the sauce off her fingertip. I do it anyway. It does taste like chemicals, but under that is her skin, and that tastes fucking good. And the way her eyelids press together as a groan falls off her lips—
I'm going to get myself in trouble here.
She blushes as she pulls her hand back to her side. "Awful, right?"
"Fucking horrible."
She stumbles over her words. "Yeah, so, don't ever let me catch you putting hoisin sauce in your pho."
"Or you'll punish me?"
"Are you into that?"
"No."
"Oh. Then I will. If you were into it, it wouldn't be a punishment." She smiles. "I um... if someone... nevermind. I guess I'd have to try it to say."
God, she's so fucking cute it hurts.
We take our soup to the couch and take turns mocking the next rerun— Friends. It's a popular show, or it was, but I can't say I ever got it. Sex and the City either. Both shows, the whole premise is that this group of people will be there for each other for anything, support each other through anything.
I trust the guys in the band.
They trust me more than I deserve after everything that happened last year.
They are my family.
But it's not at a TV kind of level.
Even after everything they've done for me.
I don't think I'll ever trust anyone on that TV best friends kind of level.
Still, it's fun mocking TV shows and commercials with Piper. I get so caught up in it, I don't notice the time until the picture in picture pops up to show us the ball's about to drop.
"I was just kidding about you kissing me." She sets her empty mug on the coffee table and presses her palms to her thighs. "I wouldn't even want to kiss you if you'd been kissing that trashy groupie. Not that I'm judging but—"
"You're judging."
"Maybe."
"I didn't kiss her."
"Oh, so you just told her to get on her knees and that was that?"
"Pretty much."
"Oh." Her cheeks and chest turn red. "Well, it's just... if you want. It is a tradition, to kiss someone at New Years Eve. It's good luck." Her eyes go to the TV. "We only have a minute left."
I'm tempted to spend the entire minute seeing how nervous I can get her.
But I'm not that evil. "It's good luck."
She nods.
"It's just a peck between friends."
"Yeah. Right. We're friends." She forces a smile. "You swear you didn't kiss her?"
I chuckle. "You don't want some groupie's sloppy seconds?"
She nods.
"I swear on my left hand."
"Which do you need more for the bass?"
"They're both integral."
"Okay. I guess that works then." She looks from the TV—down to fifteen seconds—to me.
I grab the remote to turn the volume up. I can't remember the last time I actually counted down to the New Year. Want to do it right.
The TV booms. "Ten, nine, eight."
Her cheeks flush as she scoots closer. "You don't have to."
"You telling me you don't want to?"
"Seven, six, five." The crowd at Times Square goes crazy.
Piper shakes her head. "I want to." She moves closer.
"Four, three."
I move closer.
"Two, one."
I move close enough to kiss her. My eyes close, my lips connect with hers. She tastes like cinnamon, salt, and sriracha.
She's soft.
She's eager and hesitant at once.
I want to keep kissing her. Want my tongue dancing with hers, want her body under mine, want her groaning as I make her come.
My hand plants on her knee. It's desperate to slide between her legs and stroke her to orgasm.
That is out of the question.
I pull back and shift to my side of the couch. Something about the kiss lingers. Not just the taste of her, but this feeling in my chest. I can't remember the last time I kissed someone sober.
It's different.
Good different.
She's bright red.
Fuck, she really is cute enough to eat.
"Happy New Years," she mumbles.
"Happy New Years."
She shifts back to teasing. "Are you going to insist on driving me home?"
"No, but I'm going to insist on walking you to your car."
She raises a brow.
"Or you can spend the night in the guest room. Road will be full of drunks for the next hour or two."
"Well then you better entertain me for the next hour or two."
I point back to the TV.
"You can do better."
I can do a lot better, but all my other ideas will get me in trouble.
Chapter 3
Piper
It's nearly three A.M. when I manage to drag myself from Kit's apartment. Leaving is for the best—if my tongue gets tied into any more knots, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to use it again.
True to his word, he walks me from his building to my car. The first few blocks are nice, gentrified, then we get into the sketchy part of Downtown. I hang closer to him as we pass Skid Row.
He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me across the street. "Should have warned me you parked in a shit area. I would have driven you to your car."
"Don't you drive a motorcycle?"
He cocks a brow. "And?"
"Would that really be safer?" I'm not sure why I'm talking myself out of the chance to wrap my arms around Kit and hold on tightly, but the point stands.
"Yeah." His deep voice gets serious, protective. "I don't want anything happening to you."
"Yeah, you wouldn't want that strike against you."
"No, Piper. You're a good kid, and we're friends. I don't want anything happening to you."
"Oh, yeah. Right." My eyes get stuck on his. I can't help it. His brown eyes are beautiful. But this really isn't the place to stop to chat. I force myself to move forward.
It is starting to feel like Kit's my friend. Not my best friend but certainly more than that famous rock star I know. Certainly more than my older brother's hot, slutty friend.
I soak in the warmth of his body for the rest of the walk. Okay, I still have a crush on him. I can't help it. He's beautiful and troubled and protective—that annoys me on everyone else, but it's not so bad on him—and I just know that deep down, he's sweet and caring too.
I dig my keys from my purse and unlock the car. "You want a ride back to your place?"
He gives me a long, slow once over. His eyes linger on my hips and chest then they're on mine. "I'll be okay."
"You sure?"
"Positive." He leans in to wrap his arms around me.
My chest presses against his. My fingers dig into his leather jacket. He smells good and this is the closest we've ever been.
For a second, my eyes close, and I imagine kissing him again. God, I want to kiss him again.
He steps back. "Drive safe, Piper."
"Thanks." I slide into my car. My hands are shaking so much it's hard to turn the thing on, but I manage. I cringe as my stereo turns on—it's blasting Britney Spears.
Kit smiles. "Nice tunes."
"I try. I guess I'll see you around."
He nods.
I pull onto the street and navigate onto the freeway. Long after Kit is a blip in my rearview mirror, he's glued to my brain.
Thankfully, Mal and Ethan's cars are nowhere to be seen. I'm not sure if they're at regular parties or special celebrity parties. I'm still not quite used to my brothers being famous rock stars. It's weird getting stopped on the way to the gym. It's weirder when fans look at me with envy, like they think Mal or Ethan is going home with me. Which, I guess is technically true. Mal and Ethan have more than enough money to move out of our parents' place, but they insist on staying so I don't get lonely.
Not that it makes much of a difference. They're on the road two-thirds of the year.
The house feels empty when they're away. But I can't get caught up in that yet. I have another day before I'm stuck all alone for another two months.
I try to shake off the thought as I change out of my dress and into my pajamas, but it won't go. I'm already dreading waking up to a quiet house.
Dangerous Crush: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 2) Page 2