Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  “Been wanting to do this all night,” he muttered against my lips. “I’d fuck you right here if I didn’t think our sex tape would be leaked.”

  My eyes flew open as I pulled back, stiffening at the thought that there probably were cameras in there and we probably were being filmed.

  “Aw, shit,” Blake grumbled. “I just totally killed it, didn’t I?”

  “Little bit.”

  He snorted a laugh as the elevator slowed to a halt. Then, stumbling slightly as he stepped back from me, he took my hand again and raised it to his lips to kiss the back of my knuckles like some kind of intoxicated Romeo.

  “Exactly how drunk are you?” I teased as we started to walk down the hallway.

  “Well, I’ve been drinking for, say, twelve hours now, so…not wasted enough not to make good on the elevator sex if you wanna go back?” He shot me a wink and a hazy smirk.

  “Thanks, but no. The sex part sounds good,” I clarified, “but the whole leaked sex tape? Not so much.”

  “Yeahhhh,” he agreed. “We should just make our own private one instead, right?”

  “Um, no.”

  “No, you’re right, not tonight…”

  “Or not ever,” I said – but he carried right on talking thoughtfully to himself, like he hadn’t heard me.

  “…we need to do it right. I should probably get a good camera first.”

  “Which we won’t ever use because it’s not happening,” I interjected.

  He chuckled as he came to a stop in front of a door, letting go of my hand to dig around in his jeans pocket before pulling out his keycard. “Yeah, Princess,” he said slowly. “Not happening right now. Got it.”

  “Not happening ever,” I repeated, just as slowly.

  “Okay, I hear you. Not tonight. That’s okay.”

  I laughed. “You don’t hear me, clearly –”

  “Sshhh,” he said, putting a finger over my lips. “Now you’re killing the mood, this is the romantic part of the night right here.”

  I laughed harder. “You’re planning a sex tape that’s never going to happen! That’s not what I’d call ‘romantic’!”

  He grinned. “No, but it’d be hot as fuck and you know it. That’s not what I’m talking about now, though. Come on, I wanna show you something.”

  He finally inserted the keycard into the panel on the door; the green lights flashed and he pulled me inside, letting the door click shut behind us. I didn’t even get a chance to see my surroundings before the whole place was plunged into pitch darkness.

  “Can we turn on a light?” I asked.

  “No lights. Come here.” He clumsily grabbed a handful of my left boob and then muttered, “Shit, where’re your hands?”

  I snorted. “Not there and you know it.” I pulled his big paw off me and held it in both of mine. “Here, Mr. Handsy.”

  I heard him chuckle as he pulled me with him across the room, banging into something on the way. “Fuck!” he shouted, then jerked me to the side, presumably so that I didn’t do the same thing. A moment later, another thud combined with a string of curses told me that he’d hit something else.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but I just walked into the fucking window!”

  “I said turn a light on! And what window?!”

  He dragged aside heavy drapes to reveal a large, floor to ceiling pane of glass which framed the view of the Strip outside.

  “…oh, wow,” I breathed.

  The lights of the Strip flashed, blinked and buzzed below us, like a hemorrhage of neon spilling from a crack in the earth. The legendary fountains of The Bellagio had finished their complex dance hours ago and were resting silently below us.

  Blake moved behind me and curled his arms around my middle. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  “I sometimes forget that I live in the same city as all this,” I murmured.

  “Yeah, it’s like a different world. Doesn’t feel like I’m in the city I grew up in when I look at it from up here.”

  “I guess everyone’s a tourist here. It’s like a fantasy.”

  “Yeah…makes it easier to escape.”

  I covered his hands with mine as a thrill of alarm shot through me at his words, but I managed to keep my voice soft when I asked, “You want to escape? What from?”

  He rested his forehead on the back of my head, nuzzling into my hair. “It was my fault,” he muttered, so quietly that I could barely hear him.

  “…what was?”

  “Everything.”

  That didn’t make it any clearer. I turned in his arms and saw that his eyes were closed, his brows drawn together like he was in pain. “Blake, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Fuck, I’m drunk,” he said on a heavy exhale as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Forget it, Princess, I’m talking shit.”

  I bit my lip, unsure, because it didn’t seem like he was talking shit. It seemed like there was something serious going on in his head. “You can talk to me, you know.”

  “I know,” he replied, finally opening his eyes to look at me – and all of the despair that had been etched across his face a moment before vanished without a trace as his eyes took on a mischievous glint. “But right now, I wanna show you the view from the bedroom –” the corners of his mouth twitched into a suggestive smirk “– while I fuck you from behind.”

  Before I could reply his mouth was on mine, hot and demanding, as he pulled me against him.

  By the time we stumbled into the bedroom a few minutes later, kissing and giggling like teenagers, I had pretty much forgotten his weird dip in mood.

  45

  The next morning, I awoke in an enormous, luxurious bed. It was all dark, polished wood, with a mattress that made me feel like I was sleeping on a cloud and the softest sheets ever.

  I knew Blake was gone before I even opened my eyes.

  I couldn’t feel the heat of him anywhere near me and the steady sound of his breathing, which had punctuated my waking moments for the past few mornings, was absent.

  I tried to quell the panic that started to crawl up my throat.

  Relax, he’s probably just in the other room, I told myself as I rolled to the edge of the bed and sunk my toes into the plush, cream carpet.

  On my way out of the bedroom, I picked up Blake’s charcoal button down from the floor where he had tossed it the night before and shrugged it on.

  When I entered the main room of the suite, I saw that the place was empty and my heart started to sink – but when I saw the note sitting on the round dinner table, it nearly shriveled right out of my chest.

  My bare feet skittered over the marble floor and onto the thick, geometric patterned rug laid over the top. I grabbed the loose sheet of yellow paper, my eyes flying over the words:

  Morning, Princess,

  Didn’t want to wake you – gone to the gym for a couple hours to sweat out the bourbon! Order room service. Soak in the tub. Be naked when I get back.

  Underneath, he had drawn a silly winky face.

  I sunk into one of the regal-looking, green quilted chairs that were positioned around the table, dragging a hand through my hair as a relieved laugh escaped me. But my chest still ached from the jolt of fear that had coursed through me when I first saw the note.

  For a sickening few seconds, I’d thought he’d bailed on me again.

  Wanting to push those ideas away, I dropped the note back onto the table and glanced around the rest of the room. If I’d paused to really take in my surroundings a few moments earlier, I would have realized that Blake hadn’t gone far.

  His acoustic guitar was propped against the end of the cream couch, just like it always was in the old house downtown. A dog eared, yellow legal pad, covered with his scrawl and strangely artistic doodles, sat on the glass coffee table. It could have been the same pad he’d used years ago; it looked old enough. The pages were curling at the edges, crinkled and torn in places.

  I almost walked over and picked up the legal p
ad – I knew it would be full of lyrics, notes, whole songs, and new ideas – but I stopped myself, clenching my itching fingers in my lap.

  I wouldn’t violate Blake’s privacy like that, but I was aching to snoop.

  Yeah, I know that sounds bad.

  But even three years ago, I had never so much as set foot in his bedroom. Blake’s personal space was like a mystery to me, and I felt like it held all the secrets of him. Secrets that I, in my insecure state, was desperate to know.

  Glancing around for something to distract me, my eyes skimmed over to the wet bar where there was a bunch of scratched and cracked CD cases piled up on the marble counter. I went to take a look, figuring that didn’t really class as snooping.

  Each of the cases had a hand-written price sticker on them, and none of the CDs had cost any more than $2.99. I remembered how the glove box of Blake’s old Chevy pickup was always jam-packed full of broken up CD cases just like those ones. The artists on the sleeves were obscure – most of them I had never heard of – and the genre of the albums ranged from Country to Hip Hop to Classical and everything in between.

  I felt my lips curl into a little grin.

  Blake definitely had the money to buy new CDs now, or not bother with the hassle like most people and just stick to iTunes or Spotify or something, but he obviously still hunted through thrift stores to find CDs.

  For some reason, that made me fall for him a little more.

  Maybe it was because the more I got to know him again, the more I realized that underneath everything he was now – all the wealth and the fame and crazy success – he was still the man that I remembered…

  Feeling more relaxed, I made my way over to the floor to ceiling windows to look at the view of the Strip below, and the powder blue sky stretching into the horizon. I stood there for a while, just enjoying the sights.

  Then I made the mistake of digging my cell out of my purse to check my messages.

  And that feeling of calm?

  That notion that Blake was the same guy he always was?

  Gone in an instant.

  46

  Hayley: OMG! You and Blake have gone viral! LOL

  Joanne: Hey, little sister. Sooo…did you forget to tell me something? Like the fact that you’re all over the internet kissing BLAKE MAXWELL?! What the hell happened? I thought you hated that guy?! Xx

  Mel: What the actual fuck?!

  Joanne: Also, you might want to call Mom and Dad before they see it. Xx

  Dad: Honey, call me when you get this message. Dad.

  Joanne: You’re too late. Mom just called me. She already saw TMZ…

  Mom: Oh my gosh, baby girl! You’re famous! A little warning would have been nice, though. Your father and I are a little concerned. Give me a call when you can. xxx

  Finn: Hey – saw the pictures. I’m not feeling inferior or anything! But seriously, if you still want me to keep you company next week, let me know.

  Mel: ???????????????

  Harvey: The world knows you’re nailing a rock star. What’s it like to be you?

  I had about a dozen missed calls and at least twenty other messages from friends – some of whom I hadn’t talked to in ages.

  My head was spinning. I immediately went online to see what had triggered it all.

  The first thing I pulled up was an article on a gossip site:

  Blake Maxwell’s Legendary Temper Strikes Again!

  This time, Sons of Sinners’ drummer, Danny George, was on the receiving end of the singer’s violent outburst.

  The band, who are currently residing in Las Vegas while they record their third album, were all present during the altercation.

  Sources tell us that Blake attacked Danny out of nowhere, only releasing him when a woman, whose identity is not known, stepped in.

  Blake was then seen kissing the mystery blond outside the restaurant moments later.

  This comes hot on the heels of Eva Marchant’s claims that Blake was abusive and unfaithful during their relationship.

  Eva took to Twitter soon after the pictures were posted:

  I feel so sorry for that girl! She has no idea what she’s getting herself into! Thankful it’s not me this time! #overit #nomore

  Friends of the model tell us that Eva wanted to ‘warn’ the woman in question before she ‘got in too deep’ with Blake.

  Sons of Sinners are yet to comment on the incident.

  I should really have stopped there.

  But I didn’t.

  I looked at the pictures of Blake and I kissing; at the one of me nibbling on his thumb; the ones of him grabbing Danny and then me pulling him away.

  And I read every post and comment.

  Some were nice, saying things like Blake and I looked cute together, but a lot were the opposite. They commented on my weight, my outfit, my hair – pretty much every detail of my appearance was picked apart and condemned in some way. One woman even said she hoped I got hit by a truck.

  It’s weird, being hated by people you haven’t even met.

  And it’s horrible to have your every flaw pointed out and debated by total strangers, even if you know deep down that half of the crap they’re spouting isn’t true.

  So, I maybe freaked out a little.

  I was pacing back and forth in front of the huge windows, oblivious to the view of Las Vegas that had captivated me earlier, flapping my hands and practically hyperventilating, when I heard the door of the suite open.

  I stopped dead and looked over to see Blake come in. He was carrying his gym bag, dressed in a white wifebeater and black sweat pants, his hair still wet from the shower.

  As soon as he caught sight of me, his forehead furrowed. “Hey, you okay? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t even – have you seen –” More hand flapping. I couldn’t stop the hand flapping. “– there are pictures of us all over the internet! One woman wants me dead!”

  He sighed and dropped his bag to the floor. “Shit,” he said in the same way you might say ‘oh’ if someone told you something that barely caught your interest.

  My hands stopped mid-flap. “Did you not just hear me?! Everyone I know, and a billion people I don’t, are looking at pictures of us making out right now! They’re making comments about us – about me – and…and…look at this…” I grabbed my phone up from the couch, where I had abandoned it, and hurried towards him, pulling up the one of the feeds as I did so. I held it in front of his face when I reached him, expecting at least some kind of reaction, but he barely looked at it before he curled his palm around my cell and took it out of my hand.

  “Relax, Princess. There are a few pictures of us, so what?” He sounded so nonchalant as he tossed the phone across the room to land back on the couch.

  “You didn’t even read it!” I accused.

  “No, but I don’t need to. I already know its bullshit. It always is.”

  “They said I look like an anorexic crack whore!”

  “Who did?” he asked, finally looking a little concerned.

  “Some girls on Twitter!”

  He burst out laughing. It was a full-on belly laugh, like I’d just said THE funniest thing.

  I felt a stab of anger that he wasn’t taking this seriously. “This isn’t funny!”

  He didn’t stop laughing. “Sure it is.”

  I stared at him in outrage for a second before I turned away and started to storm towards the bedroom. I didn’t get more than a few paces before Blake grabbed my upper arm and swung me back around to face him. “Princess, c’mon,” he said, still amused. “You couldn’t look like a crack whore if you tried. You gotta realize the people who say shit like that are just a bunch of losers with nothing better to do.”

  He didn’t get it. But, really, how could he? If freaking out was my ‘thing’, then being the center of attention was his. He sang in front of thousands of people for a living, he was hardly introverted – not like me.

  “But my parents are reading those things!” I told him. “My pa
rents are looking at pictures of us with your hands all over my ass!” I could just imagine my dad’s face when he saw that shot; my face started burning just thinking about it.

  Blake’s hand slid from my arm as his brow pinched into a frown. “Princess, you had to know this would happen.”

  I thought I must have heard him wrong. “…what?”

  “What did you think? That all those people last night were just gonna keep their pictures to themselves?”

  That gave me pause. I realized why he hadn’t been even a little surprised when I shoved my phone in his face a few moments before. “You knew something like this would happen, didn’t you? You knew and you didn’t warn me! What the hell, Blake?!”

  “I figured you knew, too! You told me you’ve seen a ton of pictures of me before. How can this be a fucking shock to you?”

  My face went slack.

  That was totally true.

  I had seen this hundreds of times before…only this time the woman draped all over him in the pictures was me.

  Blake let go of me and turned away, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair before turning back around and saying gruffly, “You know what’s fucking ironic? Every other woman I’ve been with? This is what they want. The attention. Their picture everywhere.” He looked away, out of the window. “But not you. You were always different.”

  I watched him like that – tense and not looking at me – and I realized that I’d hurt him somehow. Feeling that familiar tug at my heart, I reached out and took his hand in mine. He laced our fingers together and looked down at our entwined hands for a few seconds.

  “This a deal breaker for you, Princess?”

  It took a moment for that question to sink in.

  Then I got it.

  I moved so that I was in front of him. “Okay, I’m freaking out – that’s my thing, right?” One side of his mouth twitched the tiniest bit, into the ghost of an almost-smile. “But if all this stuff is a part of your life right now, I’ll learn to accept it.” I pushed onto my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. “I want you, Blake. Fame or no fame, rock star or construction worker –”