“You need to talk to Bret,” I said softly. “He needs to hear this from you.”
“I’ll call him. I wanted to talk to you about it first.” She put her hand over mine and squeezed. It was the first time she’d touched me since the big reveal.
I turned and hugged her. It felt so good.
“What are you going to do now, Gemma?”
“I have some plans.” I smiled, and I felt actually hopeful. Not because of the money, but because I’d come out on the other side of something stronger than I’d started it. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but Bret taught me a lot about myself this summer. All the things I hated about him were things I hated about me. I envied him for doing things I couldn’t. And now that I know that, I can do anything.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” For the first time all summer, her smile reached her eyes. “You always could. You just needed something to go your way.”
This was why I’d never apologize for what happened between me and my stepbrother. As wrong and as dirty as it was, Bret would always have a special place in my heart.
Did I love him? That was the only thing that still scared me.
I’d find out when I got to Nashville.
Thank you!
I hope you loved Gemma and Bret’s story as much as I loved writing it! I never thought I’d write a book like this. The idea came to me when I was super overtired and sitting in traffic, and it wouldn’t leave me alone. I told my best friend the premise, thinking she’d talk me out of it, but no. The dirty bitch loved the idea. Then I HAD to do it. Once I started writing, these two took over every aspect of my life until it was done. And here we are.
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Keep reading for an excerpt from Exposed, the next book in Gemma and Bret’s story. I’ve also included the first chapter of No Strings Attached, which is about a successful woman who hires a male escort to bring her to her twentieth high school reunion.
Exposed Chapter One
Gemma
If you didn’t work for it, you aren’t ready for it.
I knocked on the door too hard, trying to drown out my stepfather’s voice in my head.
He was the one who got me into this mess.
My biological father died before I was born, and Mom’s new husband raised me as his own. Dad was all about the tough love. If you can’t get it for yourself yet—and he’d always emphasize yet—you aren’t ready for it, Gemma. Trust me, he’d say when I pouted. It will feel so much better when you earn it.
No wonder I was such a lousy flirt. I was a do-it-yourself kind of girl, and it didn’t bode well for my love life.
I’d given Bret a heaping helping of tough love lately. More like I’d pretended he didn’t exist, which would make things interesting if he answered the door now. I ignored all his texts, deleted his voice mail, and sidestepped any attempt he made to reach out to me since he left at the end of the summer. It hurt like hell, but it was a necessity.
Hindsight was like a horror movie. A really low-budget one that wasn’t supposed to be funny, but if you didn’t laugh at it, it would give you nightmares. Bret and I were well on our way to cult-classic status in the laughable-scary-story department. I spent the summer fucking my stepbrother’s brains out.
For money.
In my defense, it was a lot of money and I was in a lot of debt. We were left an inheritance by the man who tied us together forever. My stepfather—Bret’s father. The will stipulated only one of us could have the money, and that was how we settled it. I didn’t regret a second of it. I had to go all the way to Africa to keep myself from this very spot—his doorstep. A little distance had made me realize I had a lot of fun with Bret but we had no future.
I was a smart girl. A pre-med degree sunk me six figures in the red. My heart was a fucking idiot, though. None of it was enough. The five million dollars I inherited was a ton of money, but my dreams were bigger.
The exotic animal sanctuary was the only thing that would make me cave and admit the thing I denied my entire life.
I needed Bret.
And if I was ever going to get what I wanted, I could never let him know how much.
I knocked again, more loudly this time. Bret was famous; he played guitar in the metal band Enemy Impact. I’d snuck past the doorman like I was one of his groupies, giving Bret no warning. I was well aware Bret might not want to see me, but I was the only one who got to take the easy way out. He’d have to say it to my face.
Maybe he wasn’t home. One more rap, my knuckles lingering on the door as I convinced myself to pull away. This was a horrible idea, anyway. I should get out of here before I did anything stupid.
“Gem?” His voice was like cheap whiskey on the rocks. It went down way too easy and made me lose all reason. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I froze in the middle of the hallway. The little voice of reason regained consciousness and urged me to run. My heart would always win. It pounded furiously to make up for those beats his voice caused it to skip.
I was out of my damn mind to be here, and I spun toward him too quickly. In the eye of the hurricane, Bret leaned against the doorframe, his tattooed arms crossed over his stomach, long honey-blond hair messed up like he’d just got out of bed. He probably had, knowing him. His lips twitched, giving in to the grin, and those amazing eyes refused to lie.
Here goes. I’d rehearsed this speech a dozen times on my way here, talking to myself like a lunatic. “I need you.”
Oh, shit. That wasn’t what I meant to say.
There was no hiding his smile now. “Get over here.” The second shot of whiskey was when bad ideas started to sound good.
I couldn’t move.
He crooked his finger, motioning for me to come closer. The bastard was enjoying this way too much.
I wouldn’t expect anything different. I stepped closer, and he wiggled his finger again. Ugh. I’d forever blame gravitational pull for the next step. “That wasn’t what I meant to say,” I said.
Bret grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me. Not only was I a lousy flirt, I was also a complete failure at playing hard to get. He took full advantage of my shock, his tongue entering my mouth when I gasped. Fighting him was useless, but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t try. We battled for dominance, sucking and nipping, daring each other to give in. Like hell I would.
He pulled away first, his point proven. He didn’t let go, knowing what kind of flight risk I posed, and opened his eyes after a long, lazy blink. “Then what did you mean?”
“Help.” He’d kissed me stupid. “I meant I need your help.”
“Same thing.” He let go of one shoulder and motioned for me to follow him into his apartment. “Come in, but I should let you know I have one rule here.”
“What’s that?” I’d laugh in his face if he was one of those annoying take off your shoes before you come in the house people.
“No clothes allowed.” He had me pinned against the wall. Heat rolled off his body, his lips hovered maddeningly close to mine.
I rolled my eyes and did my best to ignore the throbbing between my thighs. “Are you ever going to grow up?”
“Not if I can help it.” He narrowed his eyes. I liked the way they burned. He let go, and I almost slid down the wall, but he didn’t back away. “Tell me why you need me so bad.”
Could his words be any more loaded?
“Can we sit down first?” One of us had to be an adult.
Bret motioned to the couch. I sat on the very edge of the cushion, like it might bite. I’d forgotten this feeling of never knowing when I would fall, just knowing it was coming. And how much I liked it.
Bret sprawled out in the opposite corner. We were in our own little boxing ring, and he was sizing up the competition. We both fought dirty.
My rehearsed speech came back to m
e, bits and pieces floating through my brain. “I want to go forward with the sanctuary.”
He sat up and leaned forward. “That’s awesome, Gem. Nikki told me you’d gone to Africa, so I’m not surprised.”
“You asked Nikki about me?” I didn’t know if I should be pissed or flattered. My old coworker could’ve said anything; I barely talked to her since I quit my internship at Roger Williams Zoo. The plan was to separate myself from everything that happened last summer.
That worked out well.
“Of course I did. Your phone was out of order. I know you can pay the bill now, so you can’t give me that excuse. I wanted to see if you were blowing everyone off, or if it was just me.”
“Not just you. But especially you.” I sighed.
Something that looked an awful lot like disappointment flickered on his face. “You’re here now.”
I nodded. “I thought you were full of shit when you said you didn’t make any money touring—that the money went to the crew and everyone but you guys. I get it now. Not to sound like a poor little rich girl, but five million isn’t that much money. Dad was smart; the inheritance wasn’t enough that I had to pay estate taxes. He’d already taken care of lawyer fees. So the money was mine. But once I started looking at how to make the sanctuary a success, I realized I didn’t have enough. It would last a year, maybe. I have to custom build the habitat and hire a qualified staff.”
Bret moved closer. “You’ve got to feed those fuckers, too.” He smirked, knowing how much I hated when he called the animals that.
“They’re not fuckers. But yes, big animals eat a lot, and since they won’t be in their native land, landscaping and horticulture have to be considered, too.”
“You’re using big words, Gem. Slow down; I might get confused.” He laughed. “Listen, I’m psyched you’re doing this, and I’d love to help you, but like you said, money doesn’t go as far as you think it will. We just paid for studio space, and we get the next portion of our advance after we deliver an album to the label. They don’t pay unless they like what we give them. Don’t pass go, don’t collect any money until they say so.” He shook his head, disgusted.
Maybe everything wasn’t so easy for the mighty Bret Starling after all.
“I don’t want money from you.” Here was the part where everything got messy. “I found the perfect spot for the reserve. You’re right; this area is amazing. I think the animals would love to live out their retirement here. But it’s not cheap, and someone else owns the land.”
Bret frowned before answering. “Then what can I do?”
“You’re friends with Natalia Dempsey, right?” Her name left a bitter taste in my mouth. There was no erasing the grainy image of her supermodel body lying motionless under Bret, while he did all the work. All take and no give. What a waste. Did she have any idea what kind of plaything she had at her disposal? How his body would react to the right touch? I squeezed my thighs together and made myself think of something else before I left a mark on the couch.
Bret licked his lips like he could smell my arousal. He scooted closer. “Been watching my videos again?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah. And I noticed you had a little controversy.”
He jumped back. Guilty as charged.
Bret had been posting videos on Tumblr, business as usual. They were of him having sex with his fans and whoever else wanted to join in. Watching them used to be a guilty pleasure when I hated Bret from a distance. After our summer together, every new one he posted felt like a kick to the gut. He’d moved on. But when a couple of his costars pointed out these videos were from the last tour, he admitted he hadn’t filmed new material lately. I considered it a personal victory.
“So you want me to hit Talia up for the money?” he asked.
“Not exactly. Her dad owns the land.” Reginald Dempsey was revoltingly rich. He owned more of Nashville than any one person ever should, and from what I could tell, he only had two soft spots—his daughter and animals. “I’m hoping to convince him to convert some of his property to conservation land. For the sanctuary.”
It was the perfect spot, about a half-hour south of the city, and he wasn’t entertaining offers. The arrangement would benefit him as much as me, giving him a huge tax deduction. I’d flustered more than one real estate agent, trying to get them to approach Dempsey. What was his was his, they insisted. I’d never name dropped before, and I scrubbed slime off my skin after mentioning Dad had built his own empire with Starling Realty, but slime was a language Dempsey understood, and his secretary took my message. Or so I thought. A call for a meeting never came. The part that pissed me off the most was that I thought he’d really like the idea, judging from his past charity work.
Gemma Starling, charity case, at your service.
From all reports, Natalia Dempsey often leaped before she looked. She was famous for being in the right family at the right time. My internet searches for her dad yielded as many photos of her as of him. She’d done one of those naked ads protesting fur, and of course she’d done something else naked that made the news, too. The sex tape with my stepbrother.
Natalia was my in.
“I’m hoping for some sort of partnership. It’s not the just the land I’m after. The Dempseys have a voice, and with them on board, we could help a lot of animals.” If they were in it for more than just lip service.
Bret nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. But I gotta tell you, I’m having a hard time hearing what you have to say through all those clothes.”
I whacked him, and he burst out laughing. He threw his head back and ran his hand through his hair.
Fucking him was too easy. Besides, I’d lose focus, and I needed to be a little mean if I was going up against a juggernaut like Reginald Dempsey.
Time to change the subject. I needed to get my way before he got his. “You said you’re recording?”
Bret’s face lit up. “Yeah. The new stuff is pretty killer. The guys loved the shit I wrote this summer, and we’ve been building on that. We need to come up with twelve tracks. The label rejected some of what we sent them.” His glow was gone. “I was working on them when you knocked. That’s why I didn’t answer the door right away.”
My cheeks burned; he’d told me some of those songs were about me.
“I figured you called the cops because you had a stalker.”
“Thought about it when I saw who was out there.” His breath was warm against my cheek. When did he get so close?
“Will you play it for me?” It had been so long since I’d seen Bret in action. I’d separated myself from him before he started a band. When we were in school, my friends begged me to bring them to his shows. Nope. That never ended well for anyone but Bret.
“Fuck yeah, come on.” He pulled me off the couch and through his apartment. It wasn’t big, but it was spacious. The exposed industrial elements were a memorial to the building’s original incarnation. Huge windows overlooked the Nashville skyline. He pulled me into a room that was supposed to be a bedroom, but Bret never followed the rules, and he had no intention of starting now. He’d turned it into a home studio. A huge mixing board jutted out from the wall, and amplifiers flanked the velvet couch. I ran my hand over it before sitting down. I couldn’t tell if it was purple or if the filtered light made it look that way. He’d hung vintage concert posters on the walls, and a string of lights was wrapped around the pipes above. I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body, and this room made me want to create something.
“It’s not Death Metal, right?” I wrinkled my nose. The only thing Bret and I had in common was wanting each other.
“Don’t try to label me, Gem.” He looked over his shoulder and winked.
I took the opportunity to admire the way his T-shirt strained against his broad shoulders, and that firm, high ass when he had his back to me, strapping himself into his guitar.
“I prefer to write on Sally.” He turned around, revealing his scuffed acoustic guitar covered in wor
n stickers.
“Is that the guitar Dad gave you for Christmas?” I racked my brain, trying to remember how long ago he gave it to him. Bret had to have been in junior high, because I barely remembered a time when he didn’t have that guitar.
“Yup. Sally was my first love, and she’s never failed me.” He sat on the chair with his legs spread wide and ran his fingers over the strings.
The rhythm vibrated deep inside me. My gaze was glued to his fingers. The song was beautiful. It would sound different in all its intended electric glory, with the band supporting it, but now it was like it already had lyrics. The story was that clear. I closed my eyes, soaking it in, but all I could think about was Bret sliding his fingers over my body like he did to the neck of the guitar. Silky smooth and stopping when he found the spot that made her cry in pleasure.
I knew how Sally felt.
Bret’s eyes were closed, his mouth open. He’d gone to another place, a channel for wherever the music was coming from. He reacted to the notes. His body tensed as the song built to a crescendo.
Watching him play guitar was like watching him fuck. No wonder Enemy Impact sold out so many concerts. I’d never let myself understand Bret’s allure before this summer, but this took it to a whole new level.
I dropped to my knees in front of him.
“Gemma, what are you doing?” Bret sounded like I’d woken him from a dream.
“Keep playing.” Anything else I said would’ve ruined the moment.
Bret obliged, shifting Sally to one knee so I could unzip his fly. I’d missed his cock. I knew he’d be hard.
Dirty Little Secret: New Adult Rock Star Romance (Not Exactly A Stepbrother Romance Book 1) Page 17