Dangerous Crush: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 2)

by Crystal Kaswell

  "Demanding all of a sudden." He runs his fingers through my hair.

  "It's not all of a sudden."

  His eyes light up as he smiles. "True." He turns the faucets on—it has separate hot and cold faucets—and tests the temperature. "I've never used this before."

  "Really?"

  "Why would I?"

  "The warm water is nice. Like a hug."

  His expression gets contemplative. "Usually I stick with the way the shower pounds my back."

  "That's an aggressive hug."

  He rises to his feet and pulls me into a quick, tight hug. "That's not always a bad thing."

  No, it's not. I rest my head on his chest and melt into his arms. "How long have you had this place?"

  "Year and a half."

  "And none of the women you've brought home have ever wanted to use the tub."

  He chuckles. "You're sly."

  "Thank you."

  "They have." He breaks the hug to test the water. "But I say no."

  "Oh?" I raise a brow.

  "Why would I get in the bath with someone who only wants to fuck me cause I'm famous?"

  "Well, when you make it sound that romantic..."

  "I haven't been with someone I cared about in a long time."

  A warmth spreads through me. I like the sound of that. A lot. But it's not like I have all this relationship experience. "Me either."

  "Have you had boyfriends?"

  "I dated a little, but only one guy was really my boyfriend. It was back in high school."

  "How long did you go out?"

  "Four months."

  Kit cocks a brow. "And you didn't care about him?"

  "Maybe..."

  "I'm not jealous, Piper. I know you. You're not the type to stay with someone you don't care about. Even in high school."

  "We had a good time, sure. We were both in drama. And he was really into British pop. Mostly we'd run lines and makeout listening to The Kinks or Oasis." Okay, I guess I cared about Gerard. Even at fifteen, I knew it wasn't true love, but I enjoyed his company, I liked dating the cool senior guy, I wanted him to have a good time, and I genuinely liked him as a person.

  Our breakup was amicable—he was leaving for college and we didn't want to do long distance—and we occasionally chat on social media. He's doing well at Stanford. I'm happy for him.

  But it wasn't like this. We didn't have the kind of intimacy that takes my breath away. We didn't even have particularly meaningful conversations.

  Kit chuckles. "But he wasn't your Wonderwall?"

  "I never figured out what a 'wonderwall' is."

  The tub is nearly full. I lean down to test the water. It's perfect.

  I dip a toe. Then my foot. I nearly slip as I shift my weight to my leg. Right away, Kit has his arms around my waist.

  He helps me into the bath.

  The water sloshes as he gets in behind me.

  This really does feel like a hug—warm and safe. Then his body is behind mine, his chest against my back, his arms around my waist, and I feel so good I could die.

  I let my eyes close. "When was the last time you cared about someone?"

  "You mean someone I was fucking?"

  "Yeah."

  "Dated a girl for a while sophomore year. Oh, and senior year, I had it bad for this girl in my creative writing class. We hooked up but that was all she wanted. I didn't realize it. I invited her to watch me and Joel play."

  "That didn't make her want your heart and your mind?"

  "We weren't always upper-mid tier." He chuckles. "I've never had a problem attracting women."

  "Well, yeah, you're hot."

  "Eloquent."

  "Really hot."

  He laughs.

  "Hotter than the core of the sun?"

  "Dangerous." He runs his fingers through my hair. "I've been hot a long time. But back in high school, I wasn't a famous rock star. Wasn't even a particularly talented bassist. She wasn't impressed by me and Joel playing without a vocalist or a guitarist."

  I have to laugh. "What happened?"

  "She made an excuse to leave. Starting dating some other guy a few months later. By then, I was back to my true love—" He swallows hard. "I wasn't as bad as my mom yet, but using was already my first priority."

  He pulls me closer even as his voice drifts further away. I can tell this hurts him. That he hates remembering.

  But I want to know this part of Kit, even if it's ugly.

  "You're going off again," I whisper.

  "Yeah."

  "If you don't want to talk—"

  "I do." He runs his wet hands over my shoulders. "Come here."

  He drags his fingertips over my skin. The touch is different in the water. There's more and less friction at once.

  I sink into his touch. I sink all the way under the water. It really is warm and comfortable.

  But that doesn't compare to his body against mine.

  Kit laughs as I surface. "You want to swim, there's a pool on the roof."

  "I don't have a suit."

  "I don't have a problem with that." He runs his fingers through my hair. "Want me to wash your hair?"

  Actually, I do. The strength of my desire catches me off guard. I have to bite my tongue to keep my voice even. "Okay."

  He squeezes shampoo into his hands and runs his fingers through my hair. "You sore?"

  "Only a little." I lean into his touch. "When did your mom start using?"

  "I'm not sure. I always knew there was something off about her. She wasn't like Joel's mom. Like my teachers. She got sad when my dad went on business trips. She'd drink too much wine and get stuck in. I'd have to put her to bed, have to clean her up. The maid took care of the house, the food, but she stayed clear of Mom."

  "That's a lot of responsibility for a kid."

  "Yeah." He combs through my hair. "It took a while for me to realize why. I thought she missed my dad. I did too, but we'd order pizza and stay up late watching movies when he was gone. For a ten year old, that's as good as it gets." He fills a glass with water and uses it to rinse my hair. "One trip, my dad left his wallet on the table, with all his receipts. I was curious—it seemed like a sweet deal, his company paying for dinner."

  "He was having an affair?"

  Kit's voice gets low. "Yeah. He had the evidence right there. He didn't bother to hide it, not that he was having dinner at a restaurant ten miles away when he was supposed to be on the other side of the country, not even the Victoria's Secret receipt."

  "Your mom knew?"

  "She always knew. The more attention I paid, the more obvious it was. He'd get home smelling like strange perfume. He'd leave early. He'd skip my Little League games—"

  "You played Little League?"

  "That a problem?"

  "No. But I thought you hated baseball. Last time Ethan and Joel started arguing about The Angels vs the Giants you made an excuse to leave."

  "Makes me think about my mom sitting there in the stands, high as a kite." He rinses my hair. "When I was about thirteen, I got into a fight with him about it. He invited me to his study."

  "He had a study?"

  Kit nods. "Yeah, we were old school." He squirts conditioner into his hands then he's running it through my hair. "He told me what was going on. Said I was old enough to get that this was how things were. He loved my Mom but the passion was gone, and he needed it. He needed someone young and pretty and eager."

  "That's fucked up."

  "Yeah. But that's not how he explained it. To Dad, that's how it was. Men cheat. Period. Doesn't matter how much they loved their wives."

  I dip into the water to rinse my hair. It buys me a minute to think. Maybe I don't know Kit well, but I do know him.

  And he's not like that.

  When I surface, I turn enough to look him in the eyes. "Do you believe that?"

  "I did. My dad was my idol. He was a respected executive. He was smart, funny, charming. Handsome—he looked a lot like I do now, only without
the piercings and ink, and in a suit."

  "He must have cleaned up."

  "Yeah. He was good with people. He had that effortless charm Joel and Ethan have. The million dollar smile that makes women fall over themselves trying to impress him."

  I slide my arms around his neck. "You're just as irresistible."

  "Cause I'm hot and famous."

  I shake my head. "It's more than that."

  "Is it?"

  "Yeah. You have sad, pretty eyes."

  He chuckles. "Sad, pretty eyes?"

  "You do. Like Idris Elba."

  He chuckles. "Idris Elba?"

  "Or John Legend."

  He cocks a brow.

  "Did you ever try watching Gilmore Girls?"

  "Not my kind of show."

  "Jess, the bad boy Rory dates. You have the same beautiful, but troubled dark features."

  "Like Idris Elba." He laughs. "I guess that's a compliment." He slides his arms around me and pulls me closer. "What does that do for me, the sad, pretty eyes?"

  "This sounds harsh."

  "Tell me anyway."

  "You seem broken." I lean into his chest. "In this way that can be fixed by someone loving you enough."

  "You think that?"

  "I don't know." I turn so we're eye to eye. "Have other women?"

  "Maybe. I never stopped to get into their intentions. Sex was just another way to numb everything else." He looks away. "Wasn't good to women when I was using. I'd throw them out if they were in the way of my next high."

  "Kick them out of your room?"

  He nods. "Or out of a party. Or call in a friend who was still in the mood to party."

  "You'd invite someone to take sloppy seconds?"

  "Some women want to go all fucking night. Especially the ones who only care that I'm famous. To them, I'm interchangeable with any other famous guy. They don't know shit about me."

  "I get that. I've had a hard time making friends since Mal and Ethan become famous."

  "You're the girl with the famous brothers."

  I nod.

  "So you hang with me because you don't have better options?"

  I laugh. "It's because you're hot." I lean in to kiss him. "And sweet. And funny. And... because I trust you... I trust you to take care of me. Not just sex, but everything."

  Chapter 22

  Piper

  I wake to a noise downstairs. The door is opening. And there are voices.

  I can't pick them out from here. One must be Kit's. He's not here.

  His side of the bed is warm, but he's not here.

  I'm already thinking in terms of his and my side of the bed. I'm getting ahead of myself. Even if this is more.

  My dress is downstairs. I'm in Kit's t-shirt and boxers. I'm not sure why he has boxers if he goes commando, but I'm thankful for the outfit.

  I peek my head through the door enough to make out the voices.

  That's Mal.

  Fuck.

  I scan the first floor as I sneak to the bathroom. My dress is still there, on the floor in the kitchen.

  The mirror mocks my wishes to keep this hidden.

  I have hickeys.

  Several hickeys.

  Otherwise, I don't look different. It's not as if the halo above my head is gone. There's nothing to mark my no longer a virgin status. I shift my weight and cop a few Instagram worthy poses. It's not in the way I move either.

  Is it really possible that I'm the same?

  I don't feel the same.

  I feel awake, adult, alive.

  But I'm not sure it's from the sex as much as it's from Kit.

  I really, really like him.

  Maybe more.

  But then I've got no idea what more feels like. I didn't love any of my high school boyfriends. I've never loved anyone who wasn't family.

  I brush my teeth, wash my face, and arrange my hair to best cover the purple bruises on my neck. It does the trick. Almost.

  After another five minute trying and failing to turn almost into absolutely, I make my way down the stairs.

  The room falls silent as Mal takes me in. Recognition flares in his eyes.

  He knows.

  If I don't look different, how does he know?

  Mal isn't stupid and I'm wearing Kit's clothes.

  How could he not know?

  I bite my tongue as I attempt an effortless calm.

  Mal looks at me. "Let's talk."

  "I don't have anything to say to you." I roll my shoulders back. I'm staying strong here. Even if Mal knows.

  Kit shoots me a yes you do look.

  Maybe I do, but I don't have any desire to listen to Mal's excuses. I look into my brother's eyes. "You made a show of inviting me into your and Ethan's life in a way you never had before. Then you used it as a bargaining chip to get what you wanted. Unless the next words out of your mouth are I'm sorry, I was wrong, I don't have anything to say to you."

  Mal's voice is even. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

  What? Mal doesn't apologize. But it's there in his eyes—he's sorry. It's a hint of remorse, but a hint is a lot for him.

  "Now, let's talk," Mal says.

  "Here?" I ask.

  He nods to Kit then he looks back to me. "Privately. You want to get dressed first?"

  "No." I fold my arms over my chest. This is about what I wear for pajamas all summer, but it's different. It screams I had sex last night. I'm wearing the clothes that belong to the guy I fucked.

  "I'll give you guys a minute." Kit nods to his bedroom. His dark eyes meet mine.

  I can't place his expression. He doesn't seem worried. But is that because Mal is cool with this or because Kit has already accepted the fallout?

  Or am I imagining the recognition in Mal's eyes?

  It's early and I'm yet to imbibe caffeine. My deduction skills aren't at their best.

  Mal nods to the kitchen. "Kit made coffee."

  "Not right now."

  Mal sits on the couch.

  I sit next to him.

  His unreadable blue eyes give nothing away. "You can come to Europe if you want."

  "Gee, what a warm invitation. Thank you."

  "I was wrong about the awards ceremony. I shouldn't have pushed you like that." He gets a far off look in his eyes. "I keep thinking they're coming back because they want us to be a family again. But..."

  He's still holding onto hope Mom and Dad will give a fuck about us.

  It's sweet.

  Even if it makes him into an asshole.

  "I doubt they'll care you aren't there." He looks to me. "Education is everything to them. They won't threaten to kick you out or stop paying your tuition."

  "I want to transfer to an acting program." I clear my throat and adopt my most confident posture. "They won't pay for that."

  He shakes his head. "Then I will."

  "As long as I do it the way you want?"

  "No strings. It will be a gift."

  "Like the suitcase?"

  He nods to the corner of the room. It's there, the raspberry pink suitcase. "Should have everything you need for the weekend."

  "Oh." What? Mal is encouraging me to stay with Kit all weekend. This doesn't make any sense.

  "Whatever happens with Mom and Dad, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

  "I can't take your money, Mal."

  "I have more money than I know what to do with."

  "How much more?"

  "I write the lyrics. I get twice the songwriting royalties as everyone else."

  I raise a brow.

  "You want a figure?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll tell you after you agree to let me pay your tuition."

  "Not happening."

  He chuckles. "You'll change your mind."

  "You're a know it all."

  Mal turns towards me. His voice is soft but his expression is still unreadable. "You and Kit, huh?"

  I say nothing.

  Damn, his expression is still a wall. I try to copy his
poker face, but I'm already starting to sweat.

  "How long has this been going on?" he asks.

  "Uh..."

  He stares at me with calm eyes.

  I can't tell if he's scary calm or normal calm.

  "Piper?"

  I blurt out the first thing that comes into my brain. "You're not my father."

  "Might as well be."

  It's true. Mal has been my guardian since Mom and Dad bailed when I was 12.

  "I prefer being your brother. Your friend."

  "Me too."

  "How long?"

  "We've been talking for a while, but it wasn't official until last night."

  He nods, his expression still serene. "Are you two together?"

  "I think so."

  "Think so?"

  "It's more than just sex—"

  "So you've-"

  "Yeah." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "You aren't storming to beat him up."

  Mal raises a brow. "Have I ever stormed to beat someone up?"

  "No."

  "Have I ever stormed?"

  "I guess not." I press my lips together. "Your poker face has gotten better."

  He says nothing.

  "I can't tell if you're mad."

  "I am."

  "Oh."

  My stomach twists. I see it now, what it is that's in his expression. He's disappointed.

  But where does he get off being disappointed that I slept with Kit?

  That I'm with Kit?

  The disappointment creeps into his voice. "You kept this from me."

  Oh. That's more fair. "I don't tell you about other guys I date."

  Mal shoots me a get real look.

  "Joel said you'd kick Kit out of the band if you found out."

  Mal's eyes turn down. This time, he's not hiding any of the hurt in his voice. "You told Joel?"

  "He put two and two together."

  Mal frowns. "You tell Ethan too?"

  "No."

  "Good. He's—"

  "The type to storm out and hit someone?"

  "Yeah." Mal shakes his head as he pushes himself up. "You really don't trust me."

  I don't have an argument.

  "I deserve that." His expression softens. "You know Ethan and Kit have had ten or twenty threesomes."

  "I got the gist."

  "And you're okay with your brother's sloppy seconds?"

  I cringe. Once I'm past the ick factor, I have to laugh. "You made a joke."

  He nods.

  "You're okay with this?"