Hard Rock Heat: A Rock Star Romance (Darkest Days Book 5)

by Athena Wright

  "It's nothing you did," I repeated. Aside from proving to me how caring, wonderful and compassionate he was. Aside from making me fall in love with him when he could never love me back. "I'm just all mixed up inside."

  "Are you really using the it's not you, it's me thing?" He quirked a sad, ironic smirk.

  "I know that sounds like cliché pandering, but it's true. You didn't do anything wrong. I just need to get my head together."

  "Get your head together about what?" he asked.

  "About you," I said. "And me. And…" I waved my hand around in the space between us. "And whatever this is."

  "Is this your way of letting me down easy?" he asked.

  I frowned, confused. "What?"

  "Are you breaking up with me?" he clarified.

  I inhaled sharply.

  Breaking… up. Breaking up with someone required some kind of real relationship to begin with. I turned my eyes to Damon.

  "I didn't know there was anything to break," I said slowly.

  "I didn't think there was either," he said, keeping his eyes trained on the road. "But when you said you needed space…" He took in a heavy breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out. "It hurt," he said reluctantly, cringing, as if hating himself for saying those words, but forcing himself to speak them anyway.

  My heart thumped loudly in my chest, pulse racing.

  Damon quickly glanced at me.

  "I've never been hurt by a girl before," he said in a rush. "I've never cared enough to get hurt."

  Something in my chest exploded, like fireworks bursting from inside me. I looked down at my hands trembling in my lap, mind whirling.

  Damon cared. Damon cared enough to admit he cared. I never thought I'd see the day. I'd never imagined, when Damon first hit on me, that it could ever come to this. I'd never thought things would become serious.

  The question was, how serious did Damon think all this was? He couldn't possibly have feelings for me as deep as the ones I had for him.

  I could imagine the day Damon Drake realized he'd fallen in love, and in none of those scenarios did it involved him sitting calmly in his car. More likely, he'd have a freak out even worse than mine and run for the hills.

  But he had just confessed he had feelings for me. Even if they weren't as deep as mine, that was brave of him.

  I could be brave, too.

  "I'm not breaking up with you," I said. "It's the opposite."

  "Opposite how?"

  "I didn't pull away because I don't want to be with you." My fingers twisted together in my lap, nerves almost getting the better of me. Still, I pressed on. "I pulled away because I want to be with you too much."

  Damon looked confused. "I like being with you, too."

  I squeezed my eyes shut and gave in. "I mean, I like you." I was chagrinned at how it made me sound like a thirteen year old girl with a crush.

  His confusion deepened. "I like you, too. Obviously. You think I've ever let anyone else into my home to rearrange my clothes before? You think I've ever waited by my phone for days hoping to hear from a girl before?"

  My heart beat a small thrill. Damon had waited by his phone for me.

  "I mean, I really like you," I said. "Probably more than I should, considering who you are."

  He frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

  "It's stupid of me," I said, upset at myself for having done such a thing in the first place. "Everyone knows not to fall for Damon Drake. But like an idiot, I did."

  I went still, waiting for his reaction. The lights from street lamps flashed over his face, lighting up his green eyes. They were wide.

  "You've fallen for me," he said. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

  I cringed, waiting for the inevitable fall out.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Fallen for me," he repeated again.

  "Yes."

  "Like… fallen for me, fallen for me?"

  "Yes!" I said in a huff, getting annoyed. I'd known he'd react badly, but he didn't have to be such an idiot about it.

  "Fallen for me, as in…?" He trailed off.

  "As in, I'm in love with you, you jackass," I snapped.

  There was pure silence, aside from my annoyed, heavy breathing. His grip on the wheel loosened.

  "Wow." He spoke the words in a hush.

  At least he wasn't freaking, or pulling over and immediately kicking me to the curb.

  "So that's it," I said, sneaking a glance at him. "That's why I needed space. That's why I freaked out. I have these feelings for you and they're scary and stupid and I hate myself for having them and I know nothing's going to change because you don't do relationships, but I don't want you thinking me pulling away had anything to do with something you did wrong."

  I said the words in one huge breath. Instead of responding, a smile slowly spread across his face.

  "You love me," he mused. "Faith Briars has fallen in love with me."

  "Don't sound so smug about it." I folded my arms over my chest protectively.

  I had no idea why I'd even decided to have this conversation. I should have just kept quiet. Was he getting off on this? Was it all just one big ego boost for him? Was I just one more hopelessly naive girl, one more in a long line of others?

  "I don't know why you're so pleased with yourself." I didn't try to keep the snark from my voice. "I bet you've had a million girls fall in love with you."

  "Yeah," he shrugged. "But none of them were you."

  All the air left my lungs. I blinked rapidly.

  Out of all the reactions I'd expected, this wasn't high on the list. Not only was he not freaking out, he seemed delighted at the knowledge that I'd developed deeper feelings for him.

  "I'm not going to say it back," he said suddenly.

  "I never expected you to."

  "Not because I don't feel something for you," he continued. "Because I do." He reached over the seat to take my hand in his. "I'm not going to say it back because when I do say it, I want it to mean something."

  I stared down at our hands, dumbly, not able to form a single word.

  "So I'm going to wait," he said decisively. "This shit is all new to me. I have no clue what the fuck I'm doing."

  "You've been doing pretty good so far," I said weakly.

  "All I know is this," he said.

  Damon pinned me down with a fierce, green stare.

  "I don't want to be with anyone else but you."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I sat, silent, absorbing the words that had come out of Damon's mouth, and the calm sincerity with which he'd said them.

  "I thought you'd have a freak out just as bad as mine when I told you," I said. "You don't do dating and relationships and sappy feelings."

  "I'm doing a lot of things I don't normally do because of you," he said.

  "Same." I ducked my head, almost shyly. "I've done things with you…"

  "You mean hot, dirty, sexy things?" He winked. "I'm hoping I can get you to do a lot more."

  "We've already done sexting and public sex," I said. "What's next? You going to tie me up? Spank me? Dress me up like a school girl? Cover me in chocolate syrup and lick it off me?"

  "Now that you mention it…"

  "No," I said. "That's unhygienic."

  He just smirked.

  "So… where does that leave us?" I asked.

  Damon shrugged. "It doesn't leave us anywhere. We keep doing what we were doing."

  "Dirty things?" I guessed with a snort.

  "And fun things," he countered. "You liked going to that carnival, right?"

  "I did," I said. "I also remember you fingering me in the tunnel of love. Is that what you consider doing fun things?"

  "Well, yeah," he grinned. "Don't you?"

  I flushed.

  "I like seeing you flustered," he said. "I like seeing you go out of your comfort zone. A person can't be calm and in control all the time."

  "We can't all act like kids and do whatever we want," I counter
ed. "Some of us have to be responsible adults."

  "Sounds awful."

  I went quiet, looking out the window.

  "It can be," I agreed softly. "As much as I hate to admit you're right, sometimes it's nice to just act like a kid. I never really got to experience that."

  He glanced over at me. Concern lined his brow. "Because your mom passed away?"

  "After she died, my dad just kind of withered away." I didn't want to give him my whole sob story, but at least I could help him understand a bit about why I was the way I was. "I had to grow up fast. I had to take care of Hope. Had to make sure our family didn't fall apart. I didn't have an adult to rely on. It was the other way around, really. And even now I can't—"

  I pressed my lips together, cutting myself off.

  "Even now?" Damon gently prodded.

  "My dad's not well," I said reluctantly.

  "Is he sick?" Damon looked alarmed. "Ian never told me. Hope never said anything."

  "Hope… doesn't know," I said slowly.

  Damon's jaw twitched, as if fighting back a million questions. Instead of speaking, he stayed silent and let me continue.

  "She doesn't know how bad it is," I said. "He's not sick like you're thinking. He doesn't have cancer or anything. He just needs help."

  "What kind of help?" Damon asked with infinite patience.

  "He has a bad heart. The doctor told him to stop working. To take care of himself. Light exercise, healthy eating, the kind of thing. But he doesn't. I don't think he can. Or maybe he just doesn't want to."

  Damon reached over to take my hand again, squeezing.

  "It's hard," I admitted. "On the one hand, I wish I could just turn my back and forget about him. Every time I see him, every time he looks at me with his dead eyes, it just opens all those childhood wounds all over again. He doesn't want me around." Tears pricked the back of my eyes. "But with his heart, I'm afraid if I don't try to take care of him, one day it will just give out. I'll walk into the house and he'll still be sitting in his armchair, TV blaring, but he'll be…"

  A tear fell down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand.

  "Shit. I'm so sorry, " Damon said. "At least with my dad, I only see his sorry ass once or twice a year. If I had to put up with him every day I'd kill the fucker."

  "My dad's not a bad man," I said. "It's just a bad situation."

  Damon eyed me. "And Hope doesn't know?"

  "No." I shook my head vehemently. "I'm not going to put her through that. The less she sees of our dad, the better. She doesn't deserve that kind of heartache."

  "Neither do you," Damon said.

  "I'm the oldest, even if it's only by a minute. It's up to me to make sure none of this falls on my sister. You get it, right?"

  "I suppose," he said. "The shit I protected Ian from—" He turned his head away, not finishing his sentence.

  "I imagine it was worse than just parental neglect and burning resentment?" I said carefully.

  "He was an abusive asshole," Damon said with a sharp nod. "Anger issues, raging narcissism, you name it, he had it. At first it was just putting us down, making us feel like shit. He liked to play these fucking mind games, turn me and Ian against each other. Sometimes it worked."

  Damon's eyes narrowed darkly. "I tried to always be around though, to make sure my brother and our dad were never alone. I tried to make sure he didn't take it out on Ian. Not physically, at least. The mind fucks, though, that messed my brother up something fierce. When I caught Ian—" Damon shook his head. "Anyway. Eventually I reached a point where I knew we couldn't stay any longer. So we loaded up everything we owed into duffle bags and took off."

  Now it was my turn to reach over and place my hand on his. "I'm sorry."

  The both of us went quiet.

  "I didn't mean for this to get all heavy," Damon said eventually.

  "It's okay. It's nice having someone to talk to about all this stuff."

  "Yeah." Damon eyed me cautiously. "Normally I would say that you should trust your sister and tell her everything, but I'd be a hypocrite if I did. We're always going to want to protect our younger siblings." Damon cracked a small smile. "Even if they're only younger by a minute."

  "It sucks," I said. "Being the oldest, having to be the responsible one, having to grow up too fast."

  "It does suck," he said with a sly grin. "That's why I'm making up for lost time."

  I chuckled. "That explains why you're always such a handful."

  "Pretty much." He glanced over at me. "You should do it more often."

  "Do what?"

  "Play around," he shrugged. "Act irresponsible. Have fun for the sake of having fun and no other reason."

  "That sounds very much like a Damon Drake sort of thing."

  "The both of us are kind of similar," he said thoughtfully, "but at the same time we're opposites. You had to grow up too fast and it made you uptight, always fighting to keep your composure."

  "You know calling me uptight is insulting, right?" I interjected.

  He powered on. "Ian took the pain and turned it inward. I went the other way. I grew up too fast and it just made me wild. I act out." He shrugged. "Guess it's my way of coping. Once I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, I went fucking crazy with it." He chuckled and shook his head. "At least I'm not as bad as Cam. I don't think that guy's been responsible a moment in his life."

  "He's the crazy party animal one, right?"

  "That's him."

  "I think I can do without that kind of fun."

  Damon turned his eyes back to the road. Something caught his attention. "Hm."

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Speaking of, why don't we do something fun right now?" he said.

  "Like what?" My stomach fluttered at the odd note in his voice when he said the word fun.

  He put on the signal light and pulled over into a parking lot.

  "I'll be right back," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  I twisted in my seat to see where we were parked.

  The sign on the store read Naughty and Nice.

  "Are you kidding me," I blurted without meaning to.

  I sat impatiently, waiting for Damon to come back. When he slid back into the car with a wicked grin on his face, I put my hand up, stalling any comments.

  "Please tell me you did not just go into a sex store and buy handcuffs or silk scarves or whatever."

  "Nothing so tame," he said, looking affronted.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Tame?"

  "It's a present for you. Well," he clarified, "for us."

  "Do I even want to ask?"

  "Even if you ask, I'm not telling yet," he said. "You'll have to be patient."

  "I'm waiting with bated breath," I said, deadpan.

  I actually was insanely curious about what Damon had bought, but I wasn't going to let on. He didn't need any more encouragement.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked. "I know a good French place up the street. It's kind of fancy. Candles, mood music, all that shit you like."

  I laughed. "It's not shit. It's romantic. Don't strain yourself trying to be something you're not."

  "I'm romantic."

  "You just bought me a sex toy."

  "Who says a person can't be dirty and romantic at the same time?" he asked. "So. Dinner?"

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When we walked in, the hostess gave Damon the side-eye. At least I was dressed appropriately in my blouse and skirt. He was wearing his usual jeans and a band t-shirt with a studded belt. He was also carrying the plastic bag with the Naughty or Nice logo on it. I hoped no one noticed. I hoped he didn't pull out whatever he'd just bought in the middle of the restaurant.

  "Good evening monsieur, madame." The hostess was polite despite her expression. "Do you have a reservation?"

  "Nope," Damon said cheerfully. He slipped the girl a handful of bills. "I'm sure you can work something out. Hopefully a table somewhere private?"

  Her eyes went wide. S
he immediately consulted her tablet and tapped a few times on the screen.

  "Right this way," she said as she discreetly tucked the bills into her pocket.

  She led us to a table near the back. There were two other tables within our line of sight, but only one was occupied.

  "Now can I know what's in the bag?" I asked as soon as we were seated.

  "I thought you didn't care," Damon said.

  "I can't help but be a little curious," I said breezily. "After all, you brought the bag in with you. It must be important."

  "Let's order first," he said.

  The waiter appeared just as we decided on our meals, not making us wait. To my surprise, Damon had no trouble ordering, despite the entire menu being in French. That man continued to surprise me every day.

  The waiter asked if we'd be ordering a bottle of wine to go with dinner. Damon shook his head.

  "Water is fine," he said.

  When he left, I spoke up.

  "Did you just assume I don't want wine?" I asked. "You know how sexist it is for the guy to order for the girl without consulting with her?"

  "It's not sexist," he said. "I just don't want either us under the influence for what comes next."

  "And what exactly is that?" I asked, taking the bait.

  "You."

  I raised an eyebrow. "In the middle of a restaurant? I know you're a sex god, but even you can't make me orgasm from across the table."

  "Is that a challenge?" His eyes glinted.

  "Go ahead and try," I said, "What are you going to do? Throw me smoldering looks? Use dirty words?"

  He simply passed me the bag. I grabbed it and hid it in my lap, hiding the logo.

  "Open it," he urged. The eagerness in his voice, the hunger, was unmistakable.

  A tingle went through me. My stomach muscles clenched. I didn't even know what was in the bag and my body was already responding.

  "It's not going to bite," he added.

  Slowly, I peeked into the bag. There was something vaguely egg-shaped in there, along with what looked like a miniature remote control.

  My thighs pressed together unconsciously. A slow throb started up between my legs.