Whole Lotta Love: Rock Star Hearts - Book #1

by Amity Cross

  “They can’t replace the fucking lead singer.”

  Josh scoffed, “Uh, ACDC did. When Bon Scott died, they got Brian Johnson, and they’re still one of the biggest bands in the world. You know why that worked?” It didn’t matter if I knew or not, he was going to tell me anyway. “Bon Scott wasn’t ACDC. All those guys were. Just like us, dude.”

  “Nice to know you’ve got my back.” I gritted my teeth.

  “You left, Seb. You didn’t call, you didn’t give anyone a heads up. You just disappeared and here you are a month later, fuck knows where, chasing a wet pussy. You’ll just wind up ruining this poor girl’s life when the press finds out. It’s not like you’re fucking a groupie. You’re a dick, but not that much of a dick.”

  Ruining Juniper’s life was the last thing I wanted, but I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stop gravitating towards her. Real was something I’d lost sight of and was trying to find again. If Josh didn’t understand that, then what was I even doing talking to the guy?

  “What happened to you, man?” I demanded.

  “What happened to me?” he scoffed. “Right now, I’m starting to agree with Vix.”

  “Agree with her all you like, Josh, but it won’t change the fact that things have been shit for a long time. You wanna know why I left?”

  “It doesn’t matter why,” he said. “I’ve got one word for you. Contract.”

  My jaw tensed and that full bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label I’d left on the coffee table started looking like a good option. Though I knew if I got drunk it wouldn’t solve anything. The same problems that’d been plaguing me would still be there when I sobered up, only this time with a massive hangover attached.

  Josh was right. If I cut out on the band for much longer, I’d be risking more than my career. I’d signed a contract that demanded more than just recording songs. It was doing press conferences, red carpets, tours, meet and greets, interviews, and photoshoots. Beneath had become a product, and my life—and my fucking soul—was legally bound to Galaxy Records.

  “You’ve got maybe a month before it’s too late,” Josh continued. “Though I can’t guarantee we’ll be here when you get back. If you get back.”

  “Josh.” I slammed my fist down on the railing.

  “Not this time, Seb.”

  Josh was the only person left in the world I could trust. I could tell him anything and he knew what to do, but things were different this time. I was going though something dark, struggling with something I’d never felt before, and suddenly I was the bad guy. I couldn’t see a way out of the haze and for that I was the enemy. I’d needed his help and instead of holding out his hand, he’d shoved me out the door.

  So here I was.

  I didn’t stick around to hear what else he had to say. I ended the call and threw my phone as hard as I could over the railing. The black rectangle sailed through the air, spinning over and over until it smashed on the rocks below. Pieces of glass and plastic went everywhere, scattering over the cliffside like a smear of blood and guts.

  The only person who was reaching out was Juniper, but could I live with myself if I ruined her life too?

  I didn’t leave the beach house for three days. It was a tense standoff between me, the bottle of Johnnie, and my desire to see Juniper. Finally, I drove down to the beach on a reckless mission.

  Seven a.m., in the middle of the winter, was the perfect time to catch the tail end of a fiery sunrise. Crimson, tangerine, and honey melted over the clouds, lightening the navy-blue blanket of night. And there, in the mysterious half-light of dawn I saw her, Juniper Rowe.

  It was like I knew where she was without even realising. Call it what you wanted—gravity, fate, magnetism, some batshit crazy physics theorem—but it was a thing.

  I stood on top of the sand dune, keeping myself hidden, stuck between venturing to the water’s edge and turning around and going back. Doubts plagued my mind, invading the passion in my heart and strangling the hope she’d ignited.

  Leaning against the railing, I watched her forge a path down the beach, Ziggy taking the vanguard on his extendable leash. The sight of her sent a wave of desire through my body and I gritted my teeth, wishing my cock would just settle the fuck down.

  For the first time in my miserable life, I was holding back from taking what I wanted. It was shades of the guy I’d left behind years ago. The guy that existed before Beneath, but he was dead and gone and all that remained was a product. A fucking rock ‘n’ roll cliché.

  I’d barely gotten to know her, but I could already see that Josh was right—I’d destroy her by just being Sebastian Hale.

  I let out a strangled sigh and turned my back to the beach. It was time to go back... to the beach house at least.

  Rock and roll may have saved my life, but the fame was killing me.

  8

  Juniper

  Turned out, Vanessa was dead wrong. Sebastian didn’t come back.

  I should’ve seen it coming. ‘You don’t care who I am and fuck, I like it. That’s why I’m here with you.’ I was reading way too much into a throwaway comment. He was craving a moment of anonymity, not romance. I was such fucking girl.

  Still, it didn’t stop me from looking up his music on YouTube.

  I typed in ‘Beneath’ with shaking hands, my heart thumping in my chest as the results came up. The first song was called ‘Scream and Feel’ and had over two million views. It was like that, huh? All knicker melting, orgasms, and rock ‘n’ fucking roll.

  I put on my headphones, pressed play, and prayed for my soul.

  As the first notes echoed into my ears, I held my breath. It had undertones of the hardcore music I’d listened through a pair of cheap earbuds as an angry teenager while my mum drowned in the blues and jazz that’d entwined the romance between her and my dad. Then the anger was softened by moments of Sebastian’s murmuring voice, his whispers, and his lingering haunting tones. He sung about sex, love, and desire like they were sweet addictions. Scream and Feel.

  I clicked on the next video, a live version of the same song filmed a few months ago at a concert in London. It was a professional clip, not some shaky recording from a mobile phone, and it captured an intense moment from a typical Beneath gig. There were four guys on stage—a drummer, another guitarist, and a bass player—but I only had eyes for one man. Sebastian Hale.

  The black and white video caught every drop of sweat, every caress of his guitar, each word he crooned into his microphone. He bled his music all over the stage, laying his soul down for the fans in the crowd and they ate it up. They more than ate, they licked it off the dirty floor. If Sebastian sweated it out, they sucked it up. I couldn’t blame them, really. He oozed sex.

  The song reached its crescendo and he lifted his guitar strap over his head, the last notes of the song distorting as his fingers scratched over the strings. The guitar crashed into the amplifier, and the instrument snapped off at the neck as sparks erupted from the speakers, the wanton destruction doing something odd to my nether regions. Sebastian’s muscles rippled as he turned and walked away, his hair dripping and his eyes full of passion. The ending of the song was like a raw orgasm tearing through my body, and I almost came on the spot.

  I was transfixed.

  That was the guy from the beach? That was Sebastian? My hands shook and for a moment, I contemplated rubbing one out. He was so raw and powerful on that stage, no wonder—

  “What are you doing?”

  I slammed the laptop closed and pulled the headphones off my head as Vanessa appeared in front of me.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re creaming your knickers,” she accused.

  “Am not!”

  She pouted and snatched the laptop before I could yank it out of her reach. Opening the computer, she rose an eyebrow. “You’ve got it bad, Juni.”

  “I’m obsessed,” I wailed, lowering my face into my hands. “I’ve totally lost it. How old am I? Seriously? How old am I?”

  �
��You’re a red-blooded woman who wants to fuck the hottest rock star in the world, so I’d say at least legal.”

  I moaned again and slid underneath the counter, curling up next to Ziggy.

  “It’s natural,” she went on, her voice muffled from on high. “Anyone with a brain can see that guy’s animal magnetism is off the charts. I felt it the other day and he hadn’t even turned on the charm.”

  “Is that why you pushed me at him?”

  “Duh.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, stroking Ziggy’s back.

  Vanessa’s head appeared over the lip of the counter. “Why would you say that?”

  “He didn’t come back.”

  “Maybe he’s busy,” she offered.

  “Maybe he’s gone.”

  “Maybe you should go up to that beach house and find out.”

  I stared at her while a pile of fear-induced vomit percolated in my stomach.

  Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “It’s better than living with a massive ‘what if’ for the rest of your life.”

  “So what do I do?” I whispered.

  “You get up off your arse, go up that hill, knock on his door, and let fate handle the rest.”

  “You say it like it’s that easy.”

  She smiled and held out her hand. “It is.”

  Everyone knew the beach house of the bluff. The million-dollar house with its five billion bedrooms, marble bathrooms, and kitchen the size of my entire apartment. Knowing how much Sebastian was probably blowing on the rent made me feel sick. A week in that place was someone’s yearly salary. Needless to say, I’d never been up here.

  I didn’t own a car—there wasn’t any reason to considering everything in the Point was within walking distance—so I had to drag myself all the way up the hill. By the time I reached the top, I was puffing and my heart was galloping non-stop. The wind tore at my jacket and I burrowed deeper into the leather as I stared at the house in the distance.

  It looked deserted and I thought about turning back. I almost did until I saw movement on the outside deck. Could he see me from here?

  When I’d shot out of the Page Break, caught up in a fit of passion, I didn’t think about how this would look. Turning up at Sebastian’s house unannounced could be a step too far in the wrong direction. He probably had crazy fans knocking on his door, sending him suspicious packages, scaling his fences, and trying to sneak into his bedroom all the time.

  Sighing, I stared at my boots. I already looked like a creep, so I may as well go the full distance, right? Resuming my walk, my heart sped up to the point where I felt like I was having palpitations.

  A high fence surrounded the property, and as I wandered up the road, I noticed that the front gate was locked tight—of course it was—but inlaid in the concrete fence was a button labelled ‘buzzer’ and another labelled ‘intercom.’ I pressed the first one, jumping as the sound vibrated through my finger.

  Nothing happened for a moment, so I shoved away my anxiety and pressed it again.

  “Yeah?”

  I froze at the sound of Sebastian’s voice over the crackly intercom.

  “Hello?”

  Snapping to attention, I pressed the intercom button. “He-hello?”

  “Who is this?”

  I pressed the button again. “It’s Juniper.”

  For a long breath, nothing happened, then the gate began to slide back. Looking up the driveway, I said a prayer. It was like the millionth I’d said that day, and I hoped I wasn’t annoying whoever was on the other end.

  As I climbed the stairs, the front door opened, revealing a dishevelled Sebastian. His hair was wild, his eyes were dull, and his shirt was undone, revealing a sculpted six pack and pecs underneath. The same muscles I’d seen splashed all over the Google image search I’d done the other night. Oiled and glistening, dusted with sand...

  My gaze was glued to his chest, and I felt heat sear my cheeks.

  “You can look,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, “I don’t mind.”

  “I, uh...” I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes narrowed and I turned, fleeing down the path.

  “Juniper.”

  I stopped, his voice washing over me.

  “I’m a mess,” he said with a note of despair in his voice. “A real fucked up mess. You can stay, if that’s what you want, but if you want to go... Well, I get it.”

  I thought about the guy I’d seen in that video, the tortured singer destroying that guitar. I thought about the lost guy I’d found on the beach—handsome, brooding, and looking for something to hold onto. I thought about both of them and I turned. Oh God, I was playing with fire.

  He smiled and pushed the door open wide enough that I could step through. I shimmied past him, my heart clenching as I felt a hint of warmth radiating from his body.

  The door closed behind me, shutting out the chill, and Sebastian’s fingers brushed against my arms as he helped me out of my jacket.

  “Nice place,” I said, looking around the foyer.

  “It’s okay,” he replied, hanging my jacket on a hook by the door.

  The fireplace was roaring in the living room. It was one of those gas heaters with the fake pile of logs, but it was cozy, and the deep leather couches with their oversized furry pillows and throw rugs looked inviting. Beyond the floor to ceiling windows, I could see the ocean heaving below and the cliffs rising to the left of the house, creating a spectacular view of the rugged Victorian coastline. No wonder it was dubbed ‘Shipwreck Coast’.

  “What did I do to deserve this?” Sebastian asked, watching me paw the leather couch. It was soft and buttery and stunk like money.

  “I asked myself the same question,” I murmured.

  “You’re different.”

  “I am?” Was it that obvious I was quivering in all my naughty places? Damn, I better up my game.

  “You’ve been Googling me,” he declared.

  I nodded sheepishly. “I couldn’t help it.”

  He shrugged, his hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t blame you.” I glanced at the empty bottle of alcohol on the kitchen island. Sebastian followed my gaze and snorted. “What a fucking cliché, right?”

  He sank down onto the couch, his shirt slipping open. I couldn’t help it when my gaze returned to his bare skin, following the line of hair that ran from his navel and disappeared under his jeans.

  “So what do you want to know, Juniper? That’s why you’re here right?” He stretched out his arms. “I’m an open book.”

  A slightly tipsy open book.

  “You’re not going to make me sign an NDA?” I retorted.

  He let his head fall back and laughed. “No. You Googled. There’s no point in making you sign a gag order.”

  I didn’t know whether it was a good idea to sit down or not, so I positioned myself in front of the fireplace. Warmth spread through my body, easing the chill that’d settled in my bones on the walk up here.

  “Trashing hotel rooms?” I asked. “Assault charges? Drugs? Dare I go on?”

  “Only a third of those things are true,” he said, eyeing me. “And I never assaulted anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Is that who you are?” I asked. My hands were trembling, so I slid them into my back pockets.

  “I was a dumbarse kid who got handed a million dollars and the key to the fucking kingdom,” he drawled.

  I hardly dared to ask the next question. “And now?”

  “I wish I hadn’t taken it.”

  Everyone wanted to be rich—desperate to make it and seduced by fame—but nobody really understood what it meant. I fancied Sebastian had an artist’s soul. Every hurt struck him deep and every high was an addiction too sweet to hold onto for too long. Maybe he was missing someone in his life who understood and could roll with it. Someone who wouldn’t drop him when he was smothered in the darkness. Someone who didn’t care about the money or the fame an
d just cared about him. Maybe...

  “Mallory Grigorio?” I asked.

  He looked at me and smirked. “Jealous?”

  “Is there any comparison?” I narrowed my eyes in a blatant challenge, but he just rolled his eyes. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

  “Honestly, I haven’t thought about her in a long time,” he said. “We were never really together.”

  My heart leapt. “How does that work?”

  “On-again, off-again. Good for the brand.” He air quoted the last part. “It’s hard to know the difference between real, fake, and convenient after a while.”

  “But you fucked her?”

  His head rose and his frown deepened. “Why do you care?”

  “You’re really on a spiral, aren’t you?”

  “Tell me something about you, then,” he shot back. “You know all my secrets, it’s only fair I know some of yours.”

  “Apparently, all I know is the ‘image’.” I air quoted, much to his amusement. “I’m betting the real secrets are locked up tight. That’s why you’re here alone and not with your pop star girlfriend.”

  He snorted. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “That’s too bad for her, then.”

  Sebastian stared at me, his lips curving upward. He had this cheeky, devilish, dangerous look about him that had everything to do with cocks and vaginas.

  He patted the space next to him on the couch, inviting me closer. I looked at him, then at his hand, knowing I’d be crossing a line if I got too close. Oh hell, I’d well and truly crossed it the moment I walked all the way up to this fucking house.

  Rounding the coffee table, I sat beside him, careful not to get too close. His gaze followed my every move, those stormy eyes piercing straight through me.

  “No more stalling, Juniper Rowe,” he murmured. “Tell me something about you. Something from the spiral.”

  The fire was burning hotter, searing the skin around my heart, but Sebastian’s true colours were more alluring than I’d expected. Right now, I would’ve told him anything, but he wanted to know something broken.