Hard Rock Crush

by Athena Wright

  He groaned as my inner walls clamped down around him. His cock twitched violently and he came, spilling himself inside me.

  We were still panting when he interlocked his fingers with mine. He pulled me up gently, breathing hard on my skin.

  "You're fucking amazing." Liam said, still breathless. "You know that, right?"

  "You may have mentioned it once or twice."

  He pulled me into another fierce kiss. I still ached and throbbed inside, but I didn't think I could go again. Liam had ravished me too thoroughly.

  When we had finally caught our breath, Liam cleaned us both up and helped me off the counter. I stifled a moan as my overworked muscles complained.

  Liam pulled me into his arms again. He stroked my long hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. His eyes held a sort of wonder, as if he still couldn't believe I was here.

  I saw the world in his gorgeous green eyes.

  A world I couldn’t wait to explore with him.

  "I need to ask you something," I said.

  His eyes narrowed in concern. "Why do you sound so hesitant?"

  "Because I know what you're going to say. But I want you to hear me out and really think about this. Okay?"

  "Now I'm nervous," he teased.

  "I want you to write a song with me."

  His eyes softened. His pressed a kiss to my hair. "I would love to."

  "As a member of Cherry Lips," I continued.

  Liam's arms squeezed around my waist reflexively. I could feel him tense up.

  "We want you to join the band," I said. "And I know it's hard for you. Your old band betrayed you. Your family betrayed you. It's a hard thing to get over. But trust me." I pressed both my palms against the sides of his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. "I will never do anything to hurt you. And neither will the others. We want you to be a part of us. We want to be your family."

  Liam swallowed hard. His pained eyes bored into mine.

  "I don't know if I can," he whispered.

  "I know you can." I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "You just have to trust us. Do you think you can do that?"

  Liam's gaze roved all over my face, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. "And if I say no?"

  "I'll be sad. We're so much better with you. I know we can do great things together. But nothing between the two of us will change. This is for you. I only want what will make you happy."

  "And you think joining Cherry Lips will do that?"

  "You need to learn to trust people again, Liam. I think this would be a good first step."

  He continued staring into my eyes. I wondered if he would end up shooting me down.

  Slowly, carefully, he nodded. "Okay."

  "Okay?" I repeated, just to make sure.

  The corner of his lips quirked up. "You want to make it official? I, Liam Knight, want you, Cerise Moreau, to be my lead singer."

  I threw my arms around his neck and pressed myself against him.

  "I promise, we will never betray you. We will always have your back."

  His fingers sifted through the hair at the back of my neck as he said three words that meant everything to me. It wasn't I love you. I already knew that much was true. These words were even more meaningful.

  "I trust you."

  Epilogue

  The spotlights hit my eyes, blinding me. The roar of the crowd filled my ears. The thunder of bass and drums assaulted my chest.

  This was our last concert for the tour. One more song and we'd be done.

  I didn't know whether to feel sadness or relief. This tour had taken a lot out of the band. Every one of us was run down, exhausted. But every time we stepped foot on stage, we were renewed. There was nothing like performing in front of a cheering audience of adoring fans.

  But it had been a long month or more. Our bodies could only take so much. I knew the guys were ready for a break. So was I.

  I just had to do one more thing.

  "You guys having an awesome time?" I shouted into the microphone. I was rewarded with a a howling chorus of fuck yeah. "We're going to end this one a little different tonight."

  I nodded to a waiting guitar tech who took that as his cue. We swapped guitars, electric for acoustic. I took a seat on a small stool. The other guys filed off stage, leaving me alone under a single spotlight.

  "This is a new song," I told the audience. "It means a lot to me." My voice only wavered slightly. I cleared my throat. "I hope you enjoy it."

  I put my fingers to the strings.

  I hadn't planned on playing the song Morris and I had written in public. I didn't think I'd ever want anyone else to hear it. It was too personal. Too painful.

  But the moment we sat back and took in the final, completed version, I knew. This song needed to be performed. It needed to be heard.

  I needed to play it for Liam.

  I needed to play it for Morris.

  I needed to play it for Harper.

  Most importantly, I needed to play it for myself.

  The burning need inside me had nothing to do with the actual song itself. The music was heart wrenching, yes. Touching, sorrowful, uplifting. The song said a million things, and yet in the end, it really only had one meaning.

  I was strong.

  I was strong enough to face the past without falling apart.

  I was strong enough to stare into the darkness and survive.

  The others had been right. Closing myself off, running from my demons, was a terrible way to cope.

  But I wasn't weak.

  I was strong.

  As I sang, my eyes wandered over to Liam, watching from behind the curtains. His eyes shone with pride. Even after everything, he still looked at me with wonder. Still looked at me as if I were extraordinary. He looked at me like I hung the moon.

  Or as if I were an exploding star, burning in the night sky.

  And that was when I realized it.

  Up there on that stage, I knew I could take on the world. And it wasn't because I was strong, or because I'd stopped being weak. It was nothing so simple as that.

  It was because I was…

  Me.

  After all these years, I'd found myself again.

  And Liam was the one who helped me.

  I sang the last few words as the song came to an end. There was a hush in the concert hall, reverent and awed.

  Then the audience burst into cheers and shouts and hollers, tears streaming down faces and sobs being wrenched from throats.

  I knew exactly who I was.

  I was Cerise Moreau. I was the lead singer of Cherry Lips. I was Liam Knight's lover.

  And the two of us were going to do exactly as Liam said.

  We were going to burn like the sun, together.

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  Want more Hard Rock Romance? Continue reading with an excerpt from Hard Rock Tease >>>

  Hard Rock Tease Chapter 1

  My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I took deep breaths to try and calm myself. It didn't work. I was going to miss my interview with Etude Entertainment. I was going to lose the best chance I had at getting my foot of the door in the music industry.

  The building had too many twists and turns. The corridors all looked the same with their eggshell white walls and marble-tiled floors. Rushing around one more corner, I pushed my way through a set of double doors with shaky, clammy hands. I didn't know which way I was going, but I hoped if I continued on I'd at least find someone to ask.

  Light strains of music hit my ears the moment the doors swung open. Piano music. Some of my rising anxiety eased. Maybe there was finall
y someone I could ask for directions.

  Following the music down the hall, I found an open door. A quick peek inside showed me a man sitting at a piano. Broad shouldered, black hair, and tall. Even though he was sitting down I could tell when he stood he'd reveal an impressive height. No doubt much taller than me.

  I was about to knock on the open doorframe when the man began to hum. Lithe fingers spidered across the keys, a soft, tinkling melody that complimented the humming. Every so often he would stop to make a notation on a piece of paper laid flat on the top of the piano's surface.

  Even without words, the man's singing was lovely. Almost sweet and romantic, somehow. The music made my heart swell, touching something inside of me. Such a sad song, yet at the same time hopeful. There was a longing beneath the light humming.

  My rapid heartbeat slowed, my frazzled nerves soothed by the music. Without meaning to, I lost myself in that melody. As a music student, I could appreciate the intricacies of each note. The song didn't sound quite finished. A rough draft, maybe. Still, I could tell the man was gifted.

  Hunched over the piano, his shoulders tensed up. He pressed down hard on the keys, fingers now flying. The soft melody turned harsh and aggressive. Whatever loving sentiment the man had begun with, he'd lost it. The music became louder, unpleasant. I could hear unspoken rage in the smash of every key.

  The longer the man played the more discordant the notes become, until he slammed his hands down one final time, the music resolving itself in a crash of noise. I jumped, my heart beating a pounding rhythm against my ribcage.

  The man buried his hands in his hair, tugging at the strands. He hunched further over the keyboard. He cursed, a quiet, forlorn expletive. Moments later he shot up from his seat at the piano with a flurry, knocking off the papers full of music notes, sending them scattered to the floor.

  I took a few steps back out into the hallway, nervous adrenaline racing through my veins.

  The man stood in front of the piano, his back to me, chest heaving with every breath. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a slow breath in, then out. Running his hands down his face, he let out a soft, pained sound.

  This man was clearly in the middle of an emotional breakdown. I didn't want to interrupt. I took a few more steps backwards, intending to leave before he noticed me.

  He bent to pick up the music sheets from the floor. I saw his face for the first time.

  All the air left my lungs.

  This was a man I'd recognize anywhere.

  Blinking once slowly to clear my eyes, I counted to three, making sure I wasn't imagining things. When I looked again, it was still him. Dressed all in black, from his open leather jacket, to his form fitting t-shirt to his tight jeans…

  My eyes nearly bugged out. Damn, those were some tight jeans. My stomach muscles clenched involuntarily, an instinctive reaction. A pulse of arousal spiked through my body, warming me from the inside.

  My gaze followed his body down further to his heavy black combat boots.

  My heart stuttered in my chest.

  It really was him.

  Noah.

  Fucking.

  Hart.

  All my senses went on high alert.

  Noah Hart, lead singer of my favorite rock band Darkest Days, a rock star god, a man I admired beyond all reason, stood mere feet away from me.

  My eyes travelled over his body, taking in his long legs, broad shoulders, and messy dark hair. I gnawed on my lip as excitement ran through me. He looked even hotter in person than he did on stage or on TV.

  Although I had to be honest, I was sort of disappointed he wasn't wearing leather pants and eyeliner.

  Pure misery showed on his face, his expression alight with inner turmoil. I held still, not making a move, not making a sound. I didn't want to disturb him in what seemed to be a private moment.

  I also didn't want to risk opening my mouth and freaking out in the presence of one of my music idols.

  Noah scooped the papers up, gathering them into some semblance of order. His face was open and lined with pain. The emotion he exuded on stage was just as evident in person. I wondered if he was working on a new song, if this was part of his process.

  Something lit up inside my chest at the thought of Noah Hart having trouble writing songs. The fact that it might not come easy to him, despite the wondrous lyrics he wrote and the passionate way he sang, gave me a small bit of comfort. Sometimes it seemed like the work that I struggled with came about so effortlessly to everyone else.

  Maybe he and I had something in common when it came to that.

  I was still lingering in the doorway, watching him, drinking him in. Dark tattoos peeked out of the collar of his shirt. Enough of his upper chest was exposed to make my thighs clench. One of my shaky hands gripped the doorknob. The other was pressed to my heaving chest, feeling every one of my shallow breaths.

  I shouldn't have been so affected. It wasn't like I'd never met this man or his band before. I was a fan, after all. I'd seen them backstage dozens of times. I'd shaken their hands and spoke a few words to each, gotten their autographs and given them my thanks.

  I'd even seen a few members of the band up close at a private event, once. Being a music student and having friends with connections in the industry had its perks. Of course, at the time, all I'd been able to do was stare at them, mouth gaping open and blushing. It had been mortifying.

  I wasn't going to let that happen again. I had to get out before I made a fool out of myself.

  But I had stood in the doorway for too long. I should have left when I had a chance. Noah turned to leave. He froze as his eyes met mine.

  Immediately his expression shut down, eyes shuttering. His face went blank, no trace of the pain I'd seen before.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm so sorry," I replied immediately, shuffling my feet back and forth awkwardly.

  His voice was flat. "No one's supposed to be here."

  "I-I'm lost," I stammered.

  The expression on his face was chilly, except for the lingering frustration in his eyes and the downturned corners of his mouth. He set down the papers he'd picked up from the floor on the piano.

  "I'll just… leave," I said weakly.

  Noah eyed me up and down slowly. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at that penetrating gaze. I couldn't help eyeing him back. Damn, but those jeans were tight. I'd heard rumors, but he couldn't really be that big, could he? I could practically see his outline through the rough fabric.

  "Do I know you?" he asked.

  I shook my head, trying to suppress the heat flaring between my legs.

  "I've seen you before." The words weren't a question. "It was at a party. That album release."

  My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was for him to recognize me. I didn't want him to think I was just another one of his swooning fangirls. Even if it was true.

  "I remember." His eyes narrowed. "You were so starstruck you couldn't say a word."

  I fought to shake myself out of my daze. Noah was right. I had been struck speechless before. Almost like I was now. I didn't want to let that happen again. I could pull myself together. Definitely. I could totally do that.

  "Well. You know." I gestured to him.

  He tapped his fingers on the top of the piano in an staccato rhythm. "No, I don't know. What?"

  "You're Noah Hart," I shrugged helplessly. Noah. Fucking. Hart. I still couldn't believe it.

  "You're a fan?"

  I tried to make light of it. "Who isn't a fan of Darkest Days?"

  "So the answer is yes?" he asked. "How lucky for you to have stumbled upon me."

  I was either lucky or cursed. How could I possibly manage an interview after running into the lead singer of Darkest Days? My heart felt like it might explode out of my chest. My limbs were trembling. My insides were throbbing.

  I had to get a hold of myself.

  "I didn't mean to intrude. I'm here for an interview."

&nbs
p; "This area is off limits to non-employees."

  "I'm sorry. I think I got off on the wrong floor."

  I hovered in the doorway, unable to make myself walk away.

  "You want an autograph or something?" he asked. “I can't imagine why else you'd still be standing here."

  "Sorry, I'll just…" I trailed off, breath hitching as Noah strode over.

  He moved like a wild animal, purposeful, with a barely restrained edge. As he approached, he scanned me up and down, his dark eyes intense. I felt my nipples tighten and peak underneath my blouse.

  His eyes lingered on my chest. I had no doubt he could see the effect he was having on me. I fought back a flush.

  "Or maybe you want more than an autograph?"

  I folded my arms over my stiff nipples to hide them. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Fangirls throw themselves at me all the time. You think I don't recognize that look you're giving me?"

  "I'm not throwing myself at you. I'm just standing here."

  "Your nipples are hard as a rock."

  A sense of shame swirled and combined with outrage inside my chest. "It's cold in here."

  "It's almost summer."

  "The air conditioning is on."

  "Is that why your face is red?"

  I put my hands to my cheeks. "It is not."

  "I bet your panties are soaked, too."

  My mouth popped open, appalled and turned on at the same time. Hearing those words out of this man's mouth made my inner walls pulse.

  "Famous rock star or not, you don't get to make comments on my panties.”

  "Am I wrong?" He took another step forward, crowding me until my back was nearly to the wall. My breathing sped up. I couldn't even tell if I was angry or turned on. "Have I turned you speechless again?"

  I inhaled a sharp breath, but nothing came out.

  His eyes glinted as he backed away. I let out a wavering whimper, my vocal chords beginning to work again.

  Noah gave me a darkly amused look as he walked through the open door. "Good luck with your interview, fangirl."