Hard Rock Heat

by Athena Wright

  The audience roared in approval.

  The Darkest Days concert had begun.

  I watched, mesmerized, as the band performed.

  Damon jumped to the side of the stage, playing at the edge near grabby fangirl hands. He slid down to his knees, hips canted forward as he shredded wildly. The screaming and shrieking increased to a fever-pitch. He pulled on the whammy bar one last time, jumped to his feet and went back to his place next to Ian, leaving mourning fans in his wake.

  It was only when my lungs began to burn that I realized I hadn't breathed in minutes.

  Damon really was a rock and roll sex god.

  The other bandmates girlfriends' were also backstage, having come to their latest concert to support them. Cassie wore a look of pride. Jen and Lily were both in awe, with just a hint of lust in their eyes as they stared at their boyfriends.

  I prayed to god I didn't have that same besotted look on my face.

  I saw my sister staring at me, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

  Shit. I was just as besotted, wasn't I?

  Well. If I had to be besotted, I supposed I couldn't have chosen a better man to swoon over than Damon Drake, genius, sexy guitarist of Darkest Days.

  The band only played a few more songs, as was appropriate for an encore. They left the stage, leaving a roaring and cheering crowd behind.

  Damon pushed his way through the curtain. Sweat dripped from his forehead, turning the strands of his hair a dark chocolate as they stuck to his flushed cheeks. His eyes sparkled brightly. He grinned as he and his brother fist bumped each other.

  I couldn't hold back any longer. With three long strides I rushed over and threw my arms around the man I loved.

  Damon caught me around the waist with one hand, the other still holding his guitar.

  "You're so hot on stage," I murmured in his ear. "I just want to lick every drop of sweat from your naked skin."

  Damon's eyes turned wicked. "I thought you didn't do make-outs at work."

  "Technically Kat's still in charge," I pointed out.

  Damon's eyes narrowed with heat. He leaned in for a kiss. I met his lips with a fever. I didn't care who was watching.

  "You're even worse than Cameron and Lily," said a voice from behind me.

  I jumped back out of Damon's arms. Noah stood a few feet away, mouth twisted into a grimace. The rest of the band and their girlfriends were behind him, including the aforementioned little sister and bassist.

  "What's with the audience?" Damon asked.

  "We all wanted to thank Faith." August stepped forward his arm around Cassie. "Although this is Damon's event, we're all grateful to Faith for putting it together." August shot the others a wry smile. "I think I speak for most of us when I say we're not exactly the most well-adjusted crowd."

  Ian snorted. "Tell me about it."

  "Understatement," Noah murmured.

  "Being able to help these kids really means a lot to us," Cameron continued. "When you think of some of the shit we've deal with…" he gave the group of them a rueful look. "Giving back just means a lot to us."

  "Thank you," Noah said with a quick nod.

  A lump formed in my throat. I'd been thanked for planning events before, but never with so much heart, and never for such an important cause. I squeezed Damon's hand.

  "It was my pleasure," I told them.

  "It was also great to have a reason to get back on stage," August said. "I think the others would have coddled me for the next three years if it weren't for this event."

  "I'm still not one hundred percent happy about that. But you were awesome out there." Cameron shrugged. "So I stand corrected."

  "What's next after this?" I asked. "Back on the road?"

  "Unfortunately not," Cassie said, mournfully. "Although I'd love to continue photographing them on tour, that's done for now."

  "You've got your own photography business," August pointed out. "You don't need to be stuck on a cramped tour bus with a bunch of unruly assholes anymore."

  "Maybe I've grown found of unruly assholes," she said playfully. "After all, I dealt with your cranky ass while you whined your way through physical therapy, didn't I?"

  "I didn't whine," August said. "I merely pointed out that certain exercises were completely unnecessary for my recovery."

  "He thought he knew better than his doctor and his therapists and everyone else," Cassie fake-whispered.

  "I usually do know better than everyone else," August said archly.

  "But you're fine now?" I asked.

  "I'm in even better shape than before," he replied.

  I still hadn't learned the details of August's injury, but I was happy on Damon's behalf that his friend was okay now.

  "So if you're not going on tour, what are you guys going to do?" I asked.

  "We're going back into the recording studio soon," Jen said.

  "We?" I asked.

  She nodded happily. "Noah and I are working on some songs together. I'm also going to be playing some background instruments on the album."

  Noah tucked her against his side. "Jen's one of the best. A real musical genius." He looked down at her with a smile, dark gaze soft and loving. She returned the look with equally loving eyes.

  "I think the true artistic genius is Lily," Cameron declared. "She's been hired by the label to design our album cover."

  "I've been offered a chance by the label," she corrected him with a hand on his chest. "They still need to approve my initial concepts."

  "They'll approve them," he said with absolute confidence, puffing his chest out with pride. "Everything you create is brilliant."

  She laughed up at him, eyes shining. "It's a good thing you think that, considering you've covered half your body in my art."

  "Six tattoos!" he protested. "I get six new tattoos and all of a sudden it's all, why are you so obsessed Cam? and, don't you think one lily tattoo is enough, Cam?"

  "I think Cameron is competing with my brother," Lily said with a glowing smile. "They both want to be the one covered in the most Lily-designed ink."

  Noah and Cameron both threw glares at each other and began counting tattoos. Jen and Lily shared an amused, indulgent smile.

  "So if the guys are working on another album, you're going to be pretty busy at the label, aren't you?" I asked my sister.

  "Not so busy I can't spend some time with my family." She beamed up at Ian. "Dad said he would love to have dinner with all four of us when he's out of the hospital."

  "All four of you?" Cassie giggled. "So you're really going to do the twins-dating-twins thing?"

  "Hell yeah we are," Damon said loudly, as if announcing it to the world. He snatched me into his arms and pulled me in for a kiss in front of everyone, not caring who saw.

  I kissed back, not caring either.

  I was in love with Damon Drake. Damon was in love with me.

  It was terrifying.

  It was thrilling.

  Every moment spent with him made the earth fall out from beneath my feet.

  With his lips on mine and his arms around my waist, I knew Damon would always be there to catch me.

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  Coming Early 2018:

  Cherry Lips #1, Hard Rock Crush featuring Cerise Moreau, female lead singer of Cherry Lips.

  Want a sneak peek of Noah’s story? Continue reading with the first chapters from Hard Rock Tease >>>

  Hard Rock Tease Excerpt

  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.
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  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 finally 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."

  "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?"