The Body Rock Series Boxed Set (Rockstar Romance)

by Flite, Nora

  “Sorry, sir,” a gravelly voice said. Hard fingers gripped my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. In spite of myself, I gave a pained cry. “Just another drunken bitch starting trouble, trying to break in. We'll take her out of the way for you.”

  My chin swung, I caught a glimpse of the black clouds above. Walk away and you won't bleed, walk away and I am freed. No more stars, I thought bitterly.

  Someone was grabbing me around the middle, hoisting me against their chest. Musk and tobacco filled my world. “You god damn idiots,” Drez said over me, “are you blind? This is Lola Cooper, our new guitarist. Jesus Christ, what did you do to her?”

  Soft cloth pressed on my cheek. I'm leaning against Drezden. It was a stunning realization. No, he's holding me to him. Looking up, I saw the slightly rough stubble on his lower jaw. I couldn't see his face, though the raw disgust in his voice said enough.

  The guards stammered, speaking over each other. “But she—”

  “Shut up, just stop,” Drez snapped. Gently, he guided me to follow him. “I'll have Brenda talk to your boss. I should have guessed some for-hire goons wouldn't have a clue who to keep out and who to let inside.”

  My shin touched the bottom step of the bus. Drezden coaxed me up, helping me into the vehicle. The soft 'whoosh' of the doors shutting behind us was comforting.

  Jostled, I let myself be set on one of the seats. My eyesight was blurry, not focusing on anything. Drez's hand took my jaw, forced me still. Green eyes bore into mine.

  Then, I felt clarity.

  “Are you alright?” he asked me, forehead crinkled in worry.

  I blinked. Then, I blinked again. Am I alright? I wasn't actually sure. My head felt like someone had used it to play kickball, my insides were painfully empty.

  Remembering how I'd vomited outside the bus, I blushed hotly. My mouth still wore the sour taste. “I need a glass of water,” I said, moving to stand.

  He pushed me back, not rough, but without any room for question. “Sit. I'll get it for you.”

  The singer left me, freeing me from his encompassing aura. Looking after him, my alcohol soaked brain began to work. Studying the burning sensation on my arms revealed that the fall I'd taken at the hands of the security had torn the elbows off my shirt. The skin there was red, exposed.

  Drez returned, offering me a cold glass. I took it, the both of us clearly seeing my fingers trembling.

  Drinking hurt my throat, made me worry I might vomit again as the cold water hit my empty stomach. Flinching, I wiped at my mouth. The only other damage was to my pride.

  That couldn't be fixed so easily.

  He sat across from me, squinting so fiercely I couldn't stop myself from squirming. “You're really okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I said softly, eyeing the scrapes on my palms. It was all minor stuff. So why do I feel so awful? Glancing at Drezden, I sipped my water. I was being bullied out there. That must be why I feel so humiliated. Beaten up, no one around to give a shit.

  My fingers squeezed the glass. No, that's not true. Peeking through my eyelashes at Drez, I felt blood surge to my cheeks. Someone did care.

  Shaking my head, I looked at the singer, keeping my voice steady. It still sounded like I'd been eating rocks. If he hadn't saved me, I might have been before the night was over, actually. “Listen, I need to thank you.”

  “They'll be fired for this,” he said, showing me his profile. It was as if he hadn't heard me, was talking to himself. “Bunch of fucking idiots. I've told Brenda, if we're going to hire freelance security, prep them so they don't do shit like this.”

  In my chest, my heart slammed against my ribs. “Did you hear—I said thank you. Thank you for saving me out there.”

  Turning back, Drez considered me for a long moment. “It was nothing.”

  “You could have easily not bothered.”

  “Easily?” His palm hit the table, forcing me to jump. “Do you honestly think I could have easily ignored what was happening? Fuck, the sound of you throwing up alone was...”

  Biting my tongue, the bloom of pain contorted my face.

  Drezden's frown made deep rows beside his sharp jaw. “Stop doing that. Anyway, forget about what I did. Maybe next time, though, drink a little less.”

  Downing the water, I set the empty glass down with a bang. “Thanks for the advice.”

  We sat in silence. It was heavy, and I would have gone outside if I wasn't worried about facing anyone who might have witnessed the scene. New guitarist of Headstones vomits on tour! I really prayed no one had gotten a photo. Funny, earlier I was more angry that no one seemed to be noticing what was happening to me.

  “So,” I started, “you're going to tell Brenda?”

  “In the morning. She'll be useless tonight.” Reaching out, he grabbed my forearm. I was too surprised to fight him as he turned my limb, spotting the blazing crimson scrape and torn fabric. “Shit, let me get something so this doesn't get infected.”

  I yanked my arm back, but the damage was done. His touch had my veins pumping. “It's nothing. They're just scrapes.”

  “They?” he asked, looking pointedly at my other arm. “Come on, come with me to the bathroom.”

  Watching him stand, I squeezed the edge of the table. “Calm down, it's nothing.”

  Drezden was not a man to argue with. Reaching out, he tangled his long fingers in the neck of my shirt and pulled. “Stand. Now.”

  The cloth was close to tearing. My gut said to fight, but one look at the heat in his eyes melted my resistance. I was lightheaded when I stood. “There,” I said, “happy?”

  Rolling his eyes, Drez didn't let go. The shirt pulled at my throat, his strength demanding I follow him as he led me down the aisle like I was chained to him. If the cloth hadn't been ruined by holes already, Drez had now wrecked it by stretching the neck out.

  The bathroom was just before the room we'd practiced in. Thinking of our session made me fight even less. It was a reminder of my failures, my slow crumbling in the presence of Drezden.

  And now he's pulling me along, demanding I obey, and I'm not even trying to fight.

  Who was I anymore?

  He pushed me into the bathroom, finally releasing me. “Lift your arms,” he said.

  Unsure what else to do, I held up my hands. Grabbing the cuffs, Drezden tore my shirt right off of me. My hair fluffed from the motion, brain dazzled by the sudden movement. In only my white bra, I gaped at his bold action.

  Drezden didn't seem to be as amazed. Digging into a cabinet, he set some cotton and bandages on the edge of the sink. “Sit down for a minute.”

  That was an easy request. Standing was hard with how foggy my mind felt. Nearly dropping onto the toilet lid, I shivered in the pallid light from the single white bulb. I'd been shirtless around other people before, but this felt... different.

  There, sitting under Drezden's shadow, I was exposed. His eyes studied me casually, not seeming affected by the same baffling emotions I was.

  Water ran briefly in the sink. He crouched, a damp rag in hand. “Hold still,” he said, so brisk he clearly didn't expect me to argue.

  Like a deer in front of a car, I sat obediently. His strong fingers lifted my arm, dabbing the cloth on my raw flesh. Pain jolted, searing and making me grunt.

  “Hurts, right?” he asked.

  “No,” I said over my numb tongue. “Not at all.”

  His sideways smile grew a bud of heat in my blood. “Always acting so tough.”

  I watched the vein throbbing along his neck. When he rubbed my wound, I inhaled. “It isn't an act.”

  “No?” Meeting my gaze, not blinking, he dug the hot cloth into my other arm. My yelp made me blush; his throaty chuckle was worse. It cranked the knob on the oven inside of me ever higher. “People who put on a facade piss me off.”

  I need to act this way. Leaving it unsaid, I watched him bandage my elbows. Around you, I need to be so much...

  So much more callous.

  Without fro
nting some kind of a wall, who knew what would happen between me and Drezden? I certainly had no clue. That was why I was so fucking nervous. This thing between us, whether it was fanatical adoration or idolization or... or something else I didn't want to name...

  I just had no plan to deal with it.

  My only option was to put up a barrier and hide.

  Drezden still held my forearm. Leaning near, his deltoids flexed. It reminded me of his strength, how easily he had helped me inside the bus. How he'd saved me from the guards.

  The thrum of my heart was distracting. It threatened to climb right up my throat and out my mouth. I thought, if I spoke, I'd just stutter.

  “This tattoo,” he said, “what does it mean?”

  Focusing on my own arm, I scrutinized the beautiful and intricate design. It was a castle, a single stone tower wrapped in veins of ivy. All stark black and grey, I'd had to sit for a few sessions to finish it. “It's nothing.”

  Drezden barely moved. His tiny smirk was a road map to his doubt. I was never a great liar. “It clearly means something.”

  Of course it did. It meant everything about my life, about that space of time where I'd let everyone hurt me. When school had been filled with cruel bullies and crueler teachers. The shift that forced me down the path of cutting, left me a hollow chunk of myself.

  It was the image of my restoration. The walls that I had built to keep me from feeling fragile enough that I'd give in to the sinful temptation of pain. The ivy the cloak of art, music that kept me held together.

  I couldn't even try to explain it.

  “You don't look well,” he murmured. His breath moved a strand of my hair on my forehead. Then, he straight up placed his palm on my skin. He was warm, I was a broiler.

  Sucking my teeth, we both heard my throttled whistle. “I'm—I'm fine!” I blurted, twisting away in a panic. Shit, he touched me. Fuck fuck fuck I felt that in my core. It had been like he'd reached right inside of me and stroked my heart. Except... except more pleasant.

  More raw and wild.

  I was worked up, sweating and pale. I saw myself in the mirror; skin the color of milk. Drezden went to hold me down, saying something about not moving so fast. Not listening, how could I even with my ears thumping, I pushed at his firm chest.

  His ankle kicked mine, intentional or otherwise. I went from shoving him to grappling with his arms, my world flipping under me as I lost my balance. I was too tired, too burnt out from the strain of the day and the exertion of my drunken fight.

  “Look out!” he cried, grabbing out for something to stabilize us. Together we tumbled, my legs over my head almost comically. The porcelain of the nearby bathtub stunned me.

  Drezden crashing down on me stole my breath. My ribs creaked, throat gurgling in pained shock. “Shit,” I groaned, “what...?” The sickening thud of a skull hitting the wall beside me demanded I focus.

  Fluttering my eyes, I stared into the peaceful face of the singer of Four and a Half Headstones. His weight was heavy, but somehow comforting on me. The red mark on his temple showed where he'd banged his head.

  He looks so... relaxed. Staring, I was too nervous to move or breathe. I didn't want to shatter the moment, as awful as that was. There was a chance Drezden was hurt. Yet, for me, it was the first time we'd been so close without him paralyzing me with those intense green eyes of his. He wasn't yelling or growling, he wasn't sending iron burrs into my limbs.

  Pressed under his warmth, I wasn't scared. One arm was trapped between us. The pulse of Drezden's heart trickled up my skin. Reaching out with my fingers, I hovered just in front of his jaw. I need to see if he's okay. “Drezden?” I whispered, voice scratchy. “Drez, wake up.”

  The singer didn't budge.

  My mouth tasted like batteries. The ends of my fingers quivered, desperately wanting to alight on his cheek. If I did, I'd risk breaking everything; that moment that could go on forever. A slice of time that allowed me to bask in the intensity that was Drezden Halifax, his beauty and heat, without turning into dribbling and useless chunks.

  He might really be hurt, I realized. All at once the tranquility vanished. With just the one free hand, I dropped my palm to clasp his bare shoulder. It was tepid, smooth as glass. “Drezden! Drezden, wake up! Are you alright? Talk to me!”

  Breathing suddenly through his nose, the man cracked his eyes and looked at me. He might as well have been Medusa. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Opening my lips, I found... nothing. No words. The situation had transformed back to me, the weak fan pretending to be worthy of Drezden's glory. And him, a fucking god of rock who spun perverse thoughts to life in me just by being near.

  Just by being alive.

  He shifted, hissing as he gripped his skull. His weight ground against me, rubbing jeans on my pelvis. The sensation was wonderfully awful. My lower belly danced, my tongue knotted.

  Watching me, Drezden paused. The look in his eyes went from surprised, to accusatory. I preferred the first expression by far.

  I felt it, didn't I? I'd noticed it soon after he'd fallen on me. Distracting myself with his injury had served somewhat, but now... under the gun of his hot gaze, his strong scent and moving body, I was all too aware of what was happening.

  My thighs tensed from holding the position I had for so long. I didn't dare move, though. The result of everything I'd been trying to deny was pinned between me and Drezden.

  He adjusted again, slowly that time. The pressure of his belly rolling over me was torture. His erection brushing on me was enough to make me want to find those guards again, just to let them beat me senseless. To let them hit me till I forgot this moment.

  Tingles rose through my sternum. My nipples firmed in my bra, betraying me with their reaction. The small tents were obvious through the thin material. Feeling Drezden's pure sign of attraction was doing things to me I wasn't ready for.

  Oh fuck, what do I do? I thought wildly. Turning my chin, I stared at the wall where Drezden had hit his temple. I ripped my hand off of him, leaving it pressed on the wall. “Are—are you alright?” I choked out.

  “I'm fine,” he said, knees spreading outside of my calves as he sat up. I still couldn't bring myself to look at him. His shade fell over me in the small space. “But I asked you something. What the fuck are you doing?”

  His question reminded me too poignantly of our tangled bodies. “Sorry, I didn't mean to knock you down with me!”

  Hard, callused fingers dug suddenly into my chin. Drezden twisted me, forced me to look at him straight on. In his emerald depths, I saw my own wild expression reflected. “You could have broke your fucking neck,” he hissed. “Let alone mine! Why do you always fight me so hard?”

  A million reasons danced on the tip of my aching tongue. Because you turn my legs to mush, because you make me forget my name, because you scare the shit out of me with how you make me feel.

  I could say none of them. “Because,” I croaked, “you keep treating me like a kid.”

  Considering me, Drezden finally let me go. My jaw throbbed where he'd held me. “You'd prefer I treat you like something else?”

  “Of course!” Disbelief flared in me. “I'm not a god damn child, Drez! I'm nineteen, you aren't much older than me, stop acting so—”

  “What?” he asked, his weight settling on me. Gasping, I writhed in spite of my situation. Was he intentionally grinding himself on me? No, he couldn't be. He wouldn't. “Acting like I'm above you, acting so mature?”

  Only my still sputtering anger allowed me to speak so flatly. “Yeah, that'd be a nice start.”

  Something threatening slid across his face. A hint beneath the surface of a part of Drezden I'd only glimpsed when he sang. “You want me to treat you like you're my equal? As experienced as me?”

  Tension crawled up my spine. He was too serious, and it made my goosebumps stiff. With both my arms free, I grabbed at the wall and edge of the tub. The forewarning in Drez's tone, his words, advised me to escape
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br />   Easily, he pressed down on me. The back of my head bounced off the porcelain. It didn't hurt, but it left me stunned. Rough cloth crushed against my bra, the tops of my breasts. “What the fuck are you doing?” I gasped.

  “Treating you like an adult,” he said, palms flat on my shoulders. “You want to be as experienced as me, you want me to stop coddling you like you might break?”

  My world was swimming. Even if I hadn't banged my head, I'd have been dazed. What is he saying? This is too much, too intimate... too weird! Being trapped under the firm, smoldering body of Drezden Halifax wasn't something I'd ever expected.

  I wish my heart would stop pounding! Licking my lips nervously, I saw him staring at me like he was a predator. “Drez, hey. I don't—you shouldn't be doing this.”

  His eyebrow crawled upwards. “I haven't done anything yet.”

  Yet, I thought, fighting down a wave of strange desire. Every second longer I spent with the man, my lower belly was doing knots of betrayal. I was more excited than I'd been with anyone else in my life.

  “Lola,” he whispered, and the sheer hunger in his voice made me clench my jaw and close my eyes. “What the hell is this, what are you doing to me?”

  Doing to him? All I could do was shake my head. I moved so slow, trapped in a world of thick syrup. It was Drezden who was making this happen. There was no way I was causing it.

  His expert fingers glided down my arms, as much as they could in our cramped confines. Laying across me, he rocked his hips; a single movement that made my lungs squeeze.

  I couldn't think, couldn't talk. Everything around me was made of Drezden. My ears sought him out, my nostrils drowned in his scent. I might have vanished entirely in that tub if he hadn't stiffened, then sat up.

  Confused, I opened my eyes to see him looking to the door, straining as he listened. I understood why when a voice called out. “Drez? You in here?”

  Porter, I realized.

  In a whirlwind of limbs, the singer flew off of me. He didn't even look back, just darted out the door and shut it softly behind him.

  Blinking, I stared up at the white ceiling. It was a perfect canvas for my mind; blank, featureless.