Flirting with the Rock Star Next Door

by Lee, Nadia

  “And…?” I didn’t remember mentioning dissing romance in any of my interviews. Actually, books had never come up because people don’t get close to a rock star to talk about reading.

  “You were surrounded by a lot of half-naked women. So why would you be into stories about everlasting love with one person?”

  “That was the conclusion you came to after seeing those pictures?” That was totally unfair. Did she think I could control how women dressed around me? Or that other people’s choice of clothing would affect what I wanted in life? A possibility flashed through my mind. “Were you jealous?” Emily could be, and she was letting me know by being meh about Axelrod’s music and saying romance wasn’t for me.

  The notion improved my mood for some reason. It wasn’t like me, since when women grew clingy and territorial, I got annoyed. But with Emily, I wanted her to act possessive.

  Emily scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’re no naked Chris Hemsworth in a Thor costume. Now, that’s somebody I could be jealous over. He has the nicest pecs and ass.” She gave me a superior smirk.

  “It’s Chris Evans who has America’s Ass,” I said, ignoring her attempt to scratch my ego. She was definitely jealous. And trying to cover it up by dragging another man into the conversation, even though the chances of her, me and Chris Hemsworth hanging out naked or otherwise were pretty slim.

  “Chris Hemsworth has Asgard’s Ass,” she countered. “And Asgard is bigger than America! It’s in outer space.”

  “Well, he can’t be naked if he’s in the Thor costume.”

  “It’s a figure of speech.”

  I shrugged. “A bad one.”

  “Are you always this argumentative?”

  “Don’t have to be, generally speaking. Since I’m always correct.”

  “Ohhh, I see. I guess if you’re constantly surrounded by sycophants and groupies, you would be.” She stood up with the empty coffee cup. “I need more. You?”

  “No thanks.”

  I followed her to the kitchen to put the dirty plates in the sink. Normally I wouldn’t feel the need to defend myself against her ridiculous accusations, but I was going to see Emily every morning for a while, and I didn’t want her in a snit over nothing. It had nothing to do with me caring about what Emily thought of me.

  “I’m not surrounded by sycophants and groupies all the time,” I said. Security kept most of the people away, since I wasn’t interested in getting entangled with those women. The ones who got close enough knew my band mates, especially Dev, who hadn’t met a woman he couldn’t fall in love with since his breakup with Ashley. That breakup had inspired the song “Eat Your Heart Out, Baby.” Thankfully, he fell out of love just as easily. Otherwise, he’d be on trial for polygamy.

  Without grabbing another coffee, she turned around to face me. “You should get your head checked, then. Because your judgment sucks.”

  “My judgment is perfectly fine.” How was it my fault people shouted and flung themselves at me? That kind of crap was the price of fame the band had to put up with, but it didn’t define me.

  I stared at her flat mouth, the challenging arcs of her eyebrows. Fire sparked in her eyes, and everything about her screamed “dare”—I dare you to prove you’re more than what was in those photos, more than your public reputation. I dare you to prove you’re a person with thoughts, dreams and needs that are your own.

  And it reignited something deep inside that had gone cool and dormant since my collapse, making it burn so hot and bright that I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Moving purely on instinct, I cupped the back of her head and kissed her. Felt her soft inhale of surprise, her breath feathering my skin.

  Her mouth was softer than anything I could’ve imagined. Sweeter than cotton candy.

  She stood still for a moment, then raised her arms, letting them hover in the air as though she didn’t know what to do.

  I licked across her lips, silently seeking an invitation into her mouth for more. She opened up, stroking her tongue against mine. Every nerve cell in my body came to attention, like she’d sent a shock of electricity through me. And I craved more of that sensation. I hadn’t felt that in…forever. It made me feel so alive, so anchored in the present.

  Her hands came to rest on my shoulders, fingers flexing against the muscle. I held her warm, pretty cheeks in my palms and plundered her mouth. She tasted like spice and honey. She smelled like clean forest and citrus. She felt like life, vibrant and full of energy.

  She kissed me back aggressively, stoking the scorching need inside my gut with her heat. Her breathing grew rougher and uneven, just like mine. Every little sigh, every lick was unbearably erotic and precious.

  I pulled her closer, felt her breasts crush against my hard, bare chest. I wanted to take her to bed, lick, kiss and taste the rest of her, explore her and feast on her. Watch as pleasure broke over her, hear her sob my name as she came while wrapped in my arms.

  Suddenly, she pulled back and put a hand over her mouth like a shield. For a fraction of the second, I wondered if I’d gone too far or misread the cues and she didn’t really want it. But her gorgeous eyes were large, dark and glazed with lust as she looked at me.

  What was this about? “Emily…?”

  She put up the other hand. “That was nice, but—”

  Did she just say “nice” to describe the best fucking kiss of my life?

  “—I have to finish the rest of my book.”

  What the fuck? She had to finish it now? “Can’t you do it later?” I blurted.

  “No. Unless you can finish in under ten minutes.” She immediately scowled. That probably wasn’t what she’d meant to say.

  And I’d be damned if I rushed through our first time. Under ten minutes. What the hell kind of guy did she think I was? “Then I’ll leave you to your work.” It came out more tersely than I intended, but I didn’t try to soften it. “I’m going to need a lot more of your time than that. Like two hours. At least.”

  Then I snapped my shirt over a shoulder and stalked out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emily

  Damn it.

  I scowled at the laptop screen. Not even two thousand words since Killian had left. I’d been typing away furiously, but I’d also had to hit backspace a lot because my mind had been elsewhere. The kiss with Killian, to be precise.

  The man had kissed like…

  What was important wasn’t how he’d kissed. It was how I’d felt. Molten lust had struck me from head to toe like lightning, the liquid heat pouring through me, making me wet. And needy. And greedy.

  I hadn’t been able to remember why I was annoyed about the pictures. Or why it was a terrible idea to kiss him back. The only thing that mattered had been my desire to have him continue.

  Holy shit.

  If I hadn’t stopped just then, I would’ve dragged him down on the floor. And I wouldn’t have settled for just straddling him like I’d done the day before. I would’ve stripped both of us naked and let him push into me. The intensity of that need had scared the hell out of me. Thinking about having him inside me made my skin tight and prickly.

  So thinking about a prick makes you prickly, har har har.

  With a groan, I buried my face in my hands. I was being pathetic. A nympho.

  You haven’t had sex with a man since you moved to Kingstree.

  That was why I had sex toys. Since I wasn’t going to get romance from men in real life, I didn’t need them for orgasms, either. But somehow I wanted to have some with Killian rather than my toys. What the hell was wrong with me?

  My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my humiliatingly horny thoughts. I picked it up because that would be more productive than glaring at the poor, helpless Word doc or fantasizing about Killian. I’d have to change my underwear at the rate things were going.

  –Skye: Somebody please! I think I’m going to murder Tiffany’s band director!

  –Me: Why?


  –Lucy: Don’t. There is no perfect murder!

  –Skye: It’s a freakin’ fundraiser. Again! We did that, like, two months ago, but apparently they didn’t sell enough stupid candy or something. I swear, we pay through the nose in property taxes for school, but they never have enough money for anything!

  I sighed with sympathy. This was Skye’s constant gripe with her kid’s school, and I didn’t blame her. I’d hated fundraisers in high school. Thankfully, Mom had sold the stuff for me, since she was an extrovert.

  –Me: I’m Paypaling you $100 for some candy.

  –Skye: You don’t have to. You bought some last time.

  –Me: Please. If I can’t do this for you and Tiffany, who can I do it for?

  –Lucy: Same for me! Save me $100s’ worth of candy, too. Anything with chocolate is fine.

  –Me: You can give mine away or eat it yourself. I don’t care.

  I was particular about my junk food. And I didn’t care enough to leaf through candy options from Tiffany’s band.

  –Skye: You’re the best, girls! Thank you!

  –Me: It’s nothing.

  –Lucy: Less than nothing.

  –Skye: Well, I appreciate it anyway. So how’s writing going? Almost done?

  –Me: Should’ve been done this morning, but I’m not even close.

  –Lucy: How come? You’re an hour ahead of me, and I’m already done with my daily quota.

  I sighed. I envied Lucy her focus and prolificity.

  –Me: I’m distracted.

  –Skye: Stuck? Need to brainstorm?

  I smiled at Skye’s ready offer. She was the font of ideas in our trio.

  –Me: Thanks, girlfriend, but I already know exactly what needs to happen.

  –Lucy: So what’s the problem?

  I sighed, then decided I might as well tell them. They might have some ideas as to how I could get my head back into the story.

  Speaking of getting head…

  No, stop!

  –Me: It’s my neighbor.

  –Lucy: Didn’t he promise to be quiet?

  –Me: Yes, but we kissed.

  There. That got the important point across, without revealing who Killian was. I still didn’t know how I felt about him being a rock star, and I didn’t want to derail the girls’ focus with that factoid, because Lucy and Skye both loved music.

  –Skye: Whoa! Wait, wait, back up a little.

  –Lucy: Was it good?

  I paused, thinking back on the kiss in the kitchen. How should I describe it? Among all the adjectives I could come up with, my mind kept wandering back to the first one. It was too dramatic a word choice, but I couldn’t think of anything better and more apt. So I typed it out.

  –Me: Soul-destroying.

  –Skye: Wow. So did you seal the deal for real?

  –Lucy: Don’t leave us hanging!

  Their excitement amused me a little, making me feel like a teenager discussing her first crush with her friends. Except Killian wasn’t such an innocent crush. The man was too hot, too popular, too…surrounded by women. Well, maybe not in Kingstree. But I’d bet a year’s income that as soon as he left town, women would converge on him like moths around a searchlight.

  –Me: We were arguing, and I was kind of egging him on, and then…bam, he kissed me.

  Okay, that wasn’t exactly how that had gone, but I didn’t want to give all the details, especially the part about him deciding I was jealous. I’d wanted him to lose his cool for that arrogance. I’d been annoyed about his pictures for reasons unknown, but I hadn’t been jealous—I’d never felt that way about a guy, ever—and I had no reason to start.

  –Lucy: Woo, a hate kiss!

  –Skye: Was it good? I’ve never had a hate kiss before.

  I ran my tongue over my lips. The kiss was long over, but I swore my mouth was still feeling an echo.

  –Me: It was good.

  Might as well be honest, I told myself. It was only fair to share—it could be inspirational…or used as research. Skye wrote wholesome contemporary, but she could always write something edgier. As for Lucy… Maybe she could write about a serial killer antihero.

  –Me: And he was yummy.

  There. An extra detail. I didn’t add that he had been as delicious as Bouncy Bare Monkeys, all that rich, textured flavor of male and lust and “take no prisoners” aggression. I’d wanted to devour him on the spot, consequences be damned.

  That seemed a bit too private. Weird that I felt that way. I hadn’t minded giving away details about the few dates I’d had in the past.

  –Lucy: And then what?

  –Skye: There’s more to this, right?

  –Me: No. He went home, and I started working. I have a deadline. The bet, remember?

  I wasn’t going to tell my friends I’d pulled back from that logic-vaporizing kiss because the intensity of my need had scared the hell out of me. Sex was supposed to be pleasant and generally pleasurable. But feeling like I’d die if I didn’t have him? That wasn’t normal. It only happened in romance novels, between the heroes and heroines.

  Then there was Killian’s parting shot.

  Two hours.

  Actually, he’d said at least two hours.

  What could a guy do with two hours? Stuff like that only happened in romance novels. In my experience, a girl was lucky to get thirty minutes.

  Still, part of me wanted to know what Killian was imagining that would take so long.

  Stop thinking about that! He probably said it because he read your books. All your heroes do it like they’re getting a Cialis IV while they’re fucking.

  I frowned at the possibility, displeased that I’d forgotten that critical detail. Men lied about their prowess all the time in order to get laid. The prime exhibit—my dad. Ugh. Now I needed to throw up.

  –Lucy: Aren’t you ahead of schedule? You could’ve taken a little time to explore the attraction some more. Especially if he was yummy.

  –Skye: Exactly. I love my husband, but I need to hear those first attraction spark stories. Keeps me revved up for books.

  –Me: Work comes before play.

  That had always been my motto. It’d made me good at my career, and I wasn’t going to change that for a fling.

  –Lucy: Yeah, but YOU could come before work!

  –Skye: Beat me to it.

  I loved my friends. But I needed to explain.

  –Me: Sleeping with him would be a terrible idea. The worst. He’s a neighbor, but he isn’t type to stick around.

  That was the least of my objections, but it sounded pretty good.

  –Lucy: How come?

  Because he’s a rock star? But I hesitated to share that detail. I hadn’t seen any crazy tabloid people out here yet, and I was certain that had something to do with people of Kingstree being discreet about Killian’s whereabouts. I didn’t think Lucy or Skye would shout it to the world, but it seemed prudent to keep the fact under wraps, especially since Skye had a gossipy daughter.

  –Me: He’s only here to take care of his grandmother’s estate or something. I’m sure he’ll leave as soon as it’s done because he has a career elsewhere.

  –Skye: That sucks.

  –Lucy: Don’t let that stop you. If you decide that he’s The One after getting to know him better, you could go with him. It’s not like you absolutely have to be in that town to write.

  –Me: No, thank you. Kingstree is perfect for an introvert like me. I’m not giving up my little hermit haven for any man.

  Especially not a rock star who was used to the spotlight and being surrounded by pretty young things. I could make myself presentable when I was attending a conference or book signing, but I generally didn’t bother to do much. A shower and brushing my hair were about the extent of my daily self-beautification routine. I didn’t want to change that for what was essentially a fling, and I also didn’t want to be compared to younger, prettier women who probably worked out all the time to maintain their firm and toned size
-two bodies.

  My idea of exercise was typing, occasional stretching and going to the kitchen to grab more water or beer. I sometimes ran, but only when I was blocked. The torture worked wonders, because if I forced a choice between running or writing, my mind always chose the latter.

  –Me: Anyway, I gotta get back to the manuscript. I’m sending it off to my editor today, even if it kills me.

  And Killian wasn’t getting in the way.

  –Lucy: Okay then. Ciao.

  –Skye: I need to start writing too. Talk to you later, girls.

  After placing the phone back on the table, I took the last sip of the beer, then reached over for some crackers. But all the bags were empty. Sighing, I forced myself off the couch and started toward the kitchen.

  Something moved in my peripheral vision. I turned to look and—

  A snake!

  I screamed and scrambled back, almost falling on my butt as my heart started pounding a billion beats per second. Cold sweat beaded on my back, and the temperature in the house seemed to plunge.

  The snake lifted its head in my direction. It flicked its forked tongue. Its beady eyes shot messages in evil telepathy: I’m going to eat you, bitch!

  It reared back a bit, getting ready to launch itself at me and attack. I could envision its jaw unhinging and swallowing me whole. I heard they could eat things ten times bigger than them, no problem.

  My mind empty of everything except for an instinctive and blind drive for self-preservation, I ran out into the yard. Without the snake in view, my heart slowed to a mere two million beats per second. I placed my sweaty palms on my knees and thought about my options. Call 911. Or should I go to the police station?

  Then I realized I was outside without anything—no keys or phone! Freakin’ great! I put both hands over my mouth and a few moments later almost blacked out, because blocking one’s airflow isn’t a good idea while hyperventilating. I started wringing them instead, which worked better. There was no way I was going back in there when a giant snake was waiting to bite my head off. That was what snakes did—I’d seen it in a B-movie once with Lucy and Skye while on a writing retreat. And the one inside had definitely made its deadly intent clear.

  Since the only savior I could think of was Killian, I ran over to his house. He’d been borrowing my shower for days now. Surely I could get one phone call.