Rock & Release

by Riley Edgewood

  Now that I'm too far away to give in to sliding my tongue along his skin, I release it to say, "What's your idea?"

  "Maybe I don't want to tell you anymore."

  "Fine. Have it your way." I laugh at his petulant expression. "But for the record, I didn't know you arranged for me to have tonight off to hang out with you, so I didn't know there was a need to rush."

  "But you knew you'd be seeing me. I thought you'd rush anyway." He stands and prowls, not unlike a sleek jungle cat, toward me. Stopping short of the blockade in front of me, created by my pressed together knees.

  It's very, very hard to keep my eyes on his. "You're lucky I'm not mad about losing the money I could have made."

  "You didn't even show up for your shift."

  I lean toward him a little bit, raising my brows. "Which is why I'm not mad."

  "Good. Because I've been thinking…" He trails off, watching my face.

  His hesitation makes my stomach jump for some reason. I watch his face for a clue. "Yes?"

  "I want you to come on the road with me." He puts his hand on my thigh, as though to steady me. Which, a moment later when his words sink in and threaten to rock me off the stool, is a welcome thing.

  "You don't…" I stutter. What am I trying to say here? "I mean, we haven't even had…" I can't bring myself to talk about having sex. It's too clinical. Too awkward. Isn't that the point, though? Isn't that why someone like Luca James would invite someone on the road with him? For sex?

  "But we will," he says, catching what I couldn't say aloud, his hand sliding a little higher.

  I should push him off. Instead my legs slide the barest fraction of an inch further apart, making my next words a lie. "You shouldn't sound so certain."

  "No pressure, Cassie. But I'm pretty good at reading people—at reading you." His hand inches a little higher. My legs slide a little wider and he closes the space between us, his hips against my knees. "I want to spend more time with you. If you get naked with me, all the better. If you don't…well, I'll be sad and I'm pretty sure we'll miss out on some pretty fucking awesome moments. But I'll live. All you have to do is say the word if you want me to stop." He pushes my knees farther apart with his hips.

  My entire body revs, with him between my legs this way. He drums his fingers along the inside of my thigh, watching my face, intently. "I don't think you want me to stop."

  I'm going to tell him to stop.

  I am.

  He should stop—and I can't go on the tour with him. (Though my mind is reeling at the invitation.)

  I open my mouth to tell him, but at this exact moment my brain reminds me that Gage is with Zoey right now. It's just a blip of a thought and it's dismissed almost before I'm finished thinking it. But the reminder is there and so instead, "Don't stop," slides out of my mouth.

  His eyelids shutter halfway and he looks out at me, all smoke and smolder, from under long dark lashes. "The things you make me want to do, Cassie. You have no idea…"

  My entire body goes hot, blazing.

  He slides one hand around the small of my back and the other slowly skims the rest of the way up the inside of my thigh. And he begins to work his thumb along the lining of the denim between my legs, the pressure growing heavier with each trail, back and forth, back and forth.

  If his hand wasn't at my back, there's no doubt I'd melt right off the stool. I should swallow, I need to swallow, but my mind won't work enough to let it happen.

  "Tell me you'll think about it." Back and forth, back and forth.

  "I can't." I can't think about anything—I can barely remember to breathe—while his thumb traces me the way it's doing now.

  "Yes, you can."

  "I can't run away from my life." But in the back of my mind, in the one distant area that isn't about to lose itself in what Luca's doing to me, I remind myself that it's exactly what I've done so far this summer. Going on the road with Luca… Isn't that just another level of escape? I could leave. I could avoid watching Gage and Zoey at work—and the constant reminder that she opened her heart when I couldn't.

  I could avoid running into my parents.

  I could avoid being in the same town where my brother is buried.

  "Cassie." Luca leans in until his mouth is less than a whisper away from mine. "Come with me." His breath, cool and fresh, washes over me. And ping, ping, ping, the nerves under my skin jump toward him, like little magnets drawn to the allure of his ridiculous face.

  "Why?" There. A logical question. "Why do you want me to come with you?"

  He sighs. "Because I like you. I like spending time with you. I like your sass—and I really like to make you blush."

  "Because girls don't ever say no to you, and now I've become a challenge?" I have no doubt this is part of it, at least. And…I'm not entirely sure that I care. At the moment, all I really care about is the warmth blooming in my belly. The tingles flowing along the path his thumb creates between my legs.

  He doesn't deny my words. "Because I can't stay here to get to know you better, to get to keep doing things like this"—his thumb presses a little harder, back and forth, back and forth, oh, God—"because I leave tomorrow and that's not enough time with you."

  "I…" I need to tell him no. But my toes are curling and my stomach is filling with flutters. If I tell him no, he'll stop doing what he's doing and that is the last thing I want right now. "What would I even do if I came with you?"

  "Whatever you want." His hand at my back presses harder against me, like the force will make me say yes.

  Whatever I want. No worries. No cares… "I have a job here."

  "So? If it's about the money—I'll find a job for you on the road. You could…you could help with my campaign."

  His campaign. Against drugs.

  Something so, so important to me.

  But that doesn't sit right, because, "I know why you want me to come with you. I know where I'd spend my nights. I wouldn't take money for that."

  His hand stills against me. "I didn't mean to imply—"

  "I know." And then, because I might die otherwise, "Don't stop."

  He laughs, his eyes dancing—and he slides closer, so much closer, working his thumb along me again in slow, perfect strokes.

  God bless boys with strong, guitar-playing thumbs.

  In the back of my mind, I can't believe I'm doing this. I've never been the kind of girl who hooks up with more than one guy at a time.

  Except…that's not what I'm doing, not anymore.

  Gage kissed Zoey. He's probably still kissing her.

  There is nothing stopping me from enjoying myself here and now.

  I shut my eyes and let my head fall back, giving in to the charged rush of sensations.

  "Torture me by taking your time, much?" Luca's voice is the hint of a whisper. "Always making me wait."

  "Shut up." I bite my lower lip, my eyes still closed, those flutters turning into pulses, my body trembling on the stool. His other hand presses more firmly against my lower back, and his thumb slides harder, harder, harder back and forth.

  "Say yes. Come." He emphasizes the last word—and I almost do. My body is rushing toward that peak; I'm primed to let go, to release—except the sound of the door slamming against the wall behind jerks me straight out of the moment.

  My eyes fly open and I twist around to see…Marx. Luca's stupid manager chooses this exact second to walk in without even knocking first.

  All the mounting trembles and pulses under my skin recede as quickly as they came. Something hollows in my stomach, the emptiness of unfulfilled release.

  "Need you, Luca." He ignores me and the telltale flush I feel across my cheeks.

  "Great timing, Marx."

  I turn back toward Luca, who shakes his head at Marx and then glances at me with an amused glint in his eyes. His hands are tucked casually in his pockets with only his thumbs—his talented, talented thumbs—hanging out at the sides.

  "Let's go." Marx huffs and storms back through the d
oor. Luca ducks toward me for a quick kiss before following his manager. I watch him go, waiting for my brain to catch up with everything that just happened.

  "Cassie." He catches the door before it swings shut behind him. "Say yes."

  The door closes with a soft click. And, somehow, I find myself sitting on the stool wondering how it would all work.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  I haven't moved an inch when, a few minutes later, Marx returns. He knocks this time, at least, before he comes in. "Luca said to get you and your friends."

  I slide off of the stool and head toward him. "Isn't he about to go on?"

  He nods, but doesn't elaborate.

  "I'm not sure where our tickets are."

  "You're not sitting in those seats anymore anyway," he says. "Now come on." He motions for me to hurry and I follow him, stopping short behind him at the door to the band's dressing room. He opens it and I see Teagan and Vera, waiting together in the otherwise empty room. He jerks his head and they join us down the hall, wide eyes matching my own.

  "What's going on?" Teagan asks, but all I can offer is a shrug as I try to keep pace with Marx.

  "Hey," Vera whispers to Teagan. "What did Norris say to you before?"

  I glance to the side and notice the beaming smile across Teagan's face. She gives a small shake of her head, though, and simply says, "It's between him and me." And when she sees the question in my eyes, she adds, "No, it's nothing romantic, either. I liked Tisha—his wife, by the way—very much."

  Marx hushes us, though there's no clear reason why. Maybe he's used to doing things like this, chauffeuring the girls Luca picks up through concert halls, and has lost his patience for it.

  Ignoring his shushing, I ask, "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see," is all he'll say.

  Part of me wants to demand an answer, but my gut tells me to shut up and keep following him. An odd excitement is building in my chest.

  And this is how we end up watching the concert not from the front row, but from the side of the stage. Like, on stage. To the side, in the wing, out of the audience's view.

  "This is so cool!" Teagan throws her arm across my shoulders. "You are seriously the best to get us hooked up like this."

  Her grin is all Cheshire, practically ear-to-ear. Whatever Norris said to her—something I'm determined to get out of her—is making her happier, bouncier than I've seen her in a long time. Ever, maybe. It's a good look for her, and for a moment, for this one little sliver of time, all my own problems and anxieties fade to the background so I can simply enjoy my friend's happiness.

  And then it's the show I'm enjoying. The music is so loud my ears ring, but my stomach fills with a giddiness at getting to watch Luca strut around on the stage from this close. And strut he does. He works his hips and thrusts for effect. The audience goes wild and so does Vera. I swear, the girl has zero control when it comes to Luca.

  Okay, who am I kidding? Teagan and I go wild, too, dancing and singing along, our eyes glued to the stage. Even when Polly looks our way and her eyes go wide in surprise—right before she narrows them to shoot daggers in our direction—nothing can quell the excitement of practically being onstage.

  And then Luca motions for the crowd to quiet and walks toward the edge of the stage, holding a finger to his mouth like he's got a secret to share.

  "We're throwing a song into the mix tonight," he says, holding a hand out toward the audience. "This one's old, but I'm sure you know it. And I'm gonna need someone to sing it to. Otherwise, I'll always wonder what could've been!"

  The crowd goes absolutely bananas. "Could've Been" was one of their first number one singles years ago. It wasn't a part of their set last night, but Luca's turning his head, looking at me in the wings—and now using that free hand to gesture for me to join him.

  Panic makes a knot in my stomach so fast I almost double over. I shake my head so hard there's a chance of whiplash. "Nope. Nuh uh. Not going out there."

  "Go, Cassidy!" Teagan shoves my shoulder.

  I can't. I'm too…I don't even know what I am. "He's doing this on purpose."

  "No shit," is Vera's contribution.

  "No. I mean. He's trying to force my hand." He's trying to dazzle me. I drape a hand across my stomach. "This is embarrassing."

  "Oh, boohoo," Vera says. "Hot rock star wants to serenade you on stage. Such a rough life."

  I turn to her. "You know, you've picked up some serious sarcasm skills, yoga-girl."

  For a moment she looks like she might snap; her eyes give her away. Then she deflates, sighing. "Fine. I'm jealous. Happy?"

  "No!"

  She points toward the stage where he's waiting for me, his arm still extended. "Go."

  "I can't." Literally, I can't force my feet to move.

  "Cassidy, just go." Teagan shoves me again, this time hard enough that I fly forward. Out from the wings and onto the stage where I skid to a stop.

  Well fuck.

  The lights are blinding and I'm squinting and people are screaming and then I feel Luca take my hand and some of the overstimulation recedes a bit. Still, my breath comes in shaky and leaves even shakier. I don't know where to look. The lights make it almost impossible to see the audience in front of us. Maybe that's a good thing.

  He leans in, placing his mouth beside my ear. "You okay?"

  All I can do is nod.

  He gestures to a roadie waiting on the opposite side of the stage who rolls out a tall, black chair. Luca walks me toward it, leaning in again to tell me to take a seat. It's none too soon, to be honest, as my legs are going all to jelly.

  He nods, once, and puts the microphone back to his mouth. "Let's give it up to my girl, Cassie!"

  More screaming. I…can't still my pulse enough to make any of this feel real. I catch eyes with Polly and she drops her gaze, fiddling with her guitar.

  Then Luca starts to sing, and everything else fades away.

  He's right in front of me, literally serenading me, but I can't meet his eyes. I watch his hand around the microphone. I study the black ink tattoos lining his forearm and traveling up under the short sleeve of his shirt.

  I want to lick him from wrist to shoulder.

  Then I listen to his words, and that desire deepens to the point I have to cross my legs to keep from jumping off the chair and onto him.

  Slick sweat

  Rough

  Without rhythm and yet

  a harmony all its own

  Dark room

  Copper heat

  She scrapes and comes away

  with a layer of his skin

  under her chipped paint nails,

  with the whisper of his voice

  in her ears

  She needs more.

  She needs more.

  He needs more.

  Twisted sheets

  Tangled legs

  Skin to skin

  The hardest thing she ever did

  was never let it happen

  The hardest thing she ever did

  was never let it happen

  One night with him

  What would've been

  What could've been

  At the exact moment Luca finishes singing? Yeah, fireworks boom above the stage. I forgot it's the Fourth of July. He stands still, staring at me, the bright flashes of whites and reds above us illuminating his face. The dry, sulfured smell of the explosions drifts in the air around us and the crowd is still screaming and I can't look away from him.

  See, his expression seems to say, see how far I'm willing to go for you? And, yes, my heart quickens in my chest, responding, yes, I see. A moment later, he holds his hand out to me and helps me out of the chair and off the stage. A quick squeeze of my fingers and then he's back to performing, belting out the start of "Born for America," another old song and another one the crowd goes nuts for.

  The rest of the concert goes by like a dream. My ears stop working and—from the music I know is loud to the excited questions and excla
mations from Teagan and Vera beside me—everything reaches me in the form of an echo, like there's cotton in my ears. My face is frozen, too, so even if I could hear my friends, I doubt I could move my mouth to answer them.

  Marx comes to get us as Gold Rush Standard closes their set, and I follow him without a word. Teagan and Vera, however, have plenty of words and at some point I begin responding to them, though I can't, for the life of me, recall a single thing that's been said after Marx drops me off in Luca's dressing room.

  I sink, slowly, onto one of Luca's couches and work hard to compose myself before he gets here. I almost succeed.

  He walks into the room, whistling a jaunty little melody, lifting his chin in greeting when he sees me. "Hey, you."

  "That was a little heavy handed out there." Good. Sarcasm is much stronger than I thought I'd be capable of. Because holy hell my entire body feels numb, frozen. A part of me thinks I should be swooning, melting into his arms right now. Another part wants to slap him for coming on so strong. But…I'm too overwhelmed to make much sense of anything. I sink back further into the couch, the leather cool against the backs of my arms.

  "Is that all you have to say?" he asks, a cocky smile across his lips. Between the look on his face and the sweat glistening sexily on his brow and the way he just completely rocked on stage for the rest of the concert, I'm tongue-tied all over again.

  "Yep," is all I can manage. Damn. And I started so strong.

  "Come on, Cass. You loved it." He steps toward me, but my limbs are made of jitters and he's too close for me to think and so I flee to the other side of the room. I lean against the dressing table, facing the long mirrors lining the wall. In them, my eyes are wide and still a little shocked. My cheeks are pink, though, and there's a coil of excitement in my belly.

  In the mirror, my gaze meets his. "I'm sure I'll never forget it."