Rock Me Harder (Licks of Leather Book 2)

by Jenna Jacob

  “Dress casual tonight.”

  My throat was closing up as waves of panic crested through me.

  “Don’t back out on me, Tori. I see that look in your eyes. You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you? Relax,” he said, flashing me a charming smile. “There’s no pressure here. I’m not asking you to marry me, just have dinner with me. All right?”

  His reassurance eased my fears, at least enough for me to softly nod. “All right.”

  “Excellent.” He beamed. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  All the way home I vacillated between wondering what I was going to wear and practicing what I was going to say when I called him to cancel this stupid date.

  By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was all but crawling out of my skin. But the second I stepped through the door and Dustin came charging toward me, eyes dancing in delight and wearing a heart-melting grin, my angst vanished.

  Dropping to squat on the carpet, I spread my arms open, welcoming my sweet baby boy as he launched himself against my chest.

  “Mommy. You home!”

  “I am. I missed you so much today.” Hugging him tightly, I peppered kisses over his dimpled cheeks.

  “Papa make skettie dinner.”

  “He did? Oh, yum. That’s your favorite.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dustin nodded happily.

  “Hey, baby girl. How was your day?” Dad asked, smiling at the doorway of the kitchen and drying his hands on a towel.

  “Busy but good.” I stood and settled Dustin on my hip. “Dinner smells great, but I’m afraid I won’t be joining you two. I have a…”

  I glanced down at my son and angst began pelting me. Should I introduce him to Brice or wait for the man on the porch? I didn’t want to damage Dustin’s developing psyche. Dad was the only role model he’d ever had. I didn’t want to confuse him. And why on earth hadn’t I thought about the ramifications of dating before now?

  Oh, hell!

  “The doctor finally broke you down, didn’t he?”

  “It’s just dinner.”

  “Skettie dinner,” Dustin reminded.

  “I know, baby, but Mommy isn’t going to be eating spaghetti with you and Papa tonight. I have a…a meeting to go to.”

  “Tori,” my dad muttered in disapproval.

  Releasing my son, I ruffled his dark hair. “Why don’t you go play dinosaurs in your room, and we’ll call you when dinner’s ready?”

  “Dinos! Oh, boy!” Dustin let out a fierce little roar and raced down the hall.

  “Why did you just lie to your son?” Dad asked, arching a worried brow.

  “Because I don’t know what to tell him. Brice is the first man to enter his world besides you. What if Dustin gets attached to him? I don’t want his little heart broken when Brice stops coming around.”

  “What makes you think the doctor is going to stop coming around? You have a lot of love to give to the right man, Tori.”

  “That’s just it, Dad. Brice isn’t the right man.”

  “How do you know? You haven’t even gone out with him yet.”

  Because he’s not Darren.

  Dammit. I had to stop using my obsession with the bad-boy rocker as a crutch. He was gone and never coming back, at least not for me. I had to block him from my mind and get on with my life. But the thought of erasing him from my soul sent knives of sorrow slicing through me.

  “Because there’s no spark with Brice.” I shrugged.

  “Why does there have to be? Why can’t stable and secure be enough? I bet he’d always be there for you and Dustin. Sparks and fireworks are pretty…exciting, too, but eventually they sputter out.”

  “I know,” I lied.

  It was impossible to convince myself that I didn’t want or need those magical explosions. I’d felt them with Darren and had been longing to feel them again with him ever since.

  Hugging me tightly, he kissed my forehead and smiled. “I’m glad you finally said yes to Brice. Go on…get ready for your date, baby girl.”

  Chapter Two

  Darren

  It was a little past noon when I drove away from the Kansas City airport in my rental car. By the time I pulled to the curb in a quiet tree-lined subdivision in the southern part of the city, it was nearly one o’clock.

  Nerves singing, I strode to the front door and sucked in a deep breath. With a shaking finger, I rang the bell and waited. My heart was in my throat as the door opened and a middle-aged brunette stood before me. My hopes, dreams, and fears evaporated like smoke.

  When I found my voice, I pretended to be a former classmate looking to reconnect with Tori. The woman explained that she and her husband had recently purchased the home from Tori’s father. She went on to say that she didn’t have an address, but that Tori and her dad were now living in a small Kansas town about fifty miles away.

  Hope took flight once more.

  I thanked the woman profusely and raced back to my car.

  After arriving in the quiet, quaint burg, I realized that without an address, I was literally searching for a needle in a haystack. Though I kept my ball cap tucked low and sunglasses firmly in place, every time I flashed Tori’s picture to storeowners or people on the street, I was increasing the risk of being recognized.

  The sun was ebbing toward the horizon, and I still didn’t have a clue where the little minx was hiding. Stomach growling, I checked into the only hotel in town—a one-star hovel with the luxurious amenities of a bed and a bathroom. After a quick shower, I drove to a family-owned café. While I was sitting at the counter inhaling a cheeseburger and fries, an old man sat down beside me. He was a friendly old coot, and after we’d talked for a while, I decided to pull out my cell phone. When I showed him Tori’s photo, he grinned.

  “I know her. She’s the girl who rubs my feet twice a week,” the old codger cackled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s my physical therapist. Works for Doc Bennett about a quarter of a mile down the road.”

  Physical therapist?

  That was on the opposite end of the career spectrum from a secretary at a law firm. But then, I shouldn’t really be surprised. I’d been finding out the hard way that everything she told me that night had been a lie.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where she lives, would you?”

  “Why? You a stalker or something?”

  I laughed and quickly fed him the friends-from-high-school line.

  “You and Tori went to school together?” he asked, studying me intently.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t take this as an insult, but you look a decade longer in the tooth than Tori.”

  The man might be older than dirt, but he was still sharp as a tack.

  “Not quite. I was a senior when she was a freshman, but we ran with the same crowd.”

  He grunted and nodded. “She’s renting the old Miller place off Cherry Street.”

  My heart rate tripled and I was two seconds from launching to my feet and flying out the door but somehow managed to keep my cool. “Do you know the house number?”

  “I should. My sister, Carol, and her husband Hank lived there forty-two years.”

  When the old man scribbled down the house number on a napkin, I nearly kissed him. Instead, I thanked him and paid for his dinner and mine before rushing to my car.

  Four minutes later, I sat at the curb in my car, staring at an older, well-maintained, one-story ranch. The pale blue paint reminded me of Tori’s eyes. Visions of the beguiling beauty flooded my mind. But this time I didn’t bother shoving them aside. No, I let them roll through me until I could smell her scent of lavender and summer rain, feel her smooth, warm flesh on my fingers, and taste her sweet virgin cream coating my tongue, until I was tumbling back in time.

  Two years ago

  Kansas City

  Mentally counting the notes until “Make Your Fortune”—our final encore song—ended, I kept a smile plastered on my face as the spotlight for my solo baked my
flesh and blinded me. Being the center of attention again, I feared everyone in the place could see the pain eating me alive. I lowered my head, swallowed the lump of sorrow in my throat, and pressed the frets while I slashed my pick across the strings.

  Christ, I’d never had to fake the thrill of performing in my life. This sucked a triple bag of elephant spunk. Thankfully, the guys on stage beside me knew the pain I was dealing with and picked up my slack while interacting with the crowd. They’d even approached me last night offering to reschedule this show. That was but one of a million reasons I loved them like brothers. And I loved them too much to puss out and bail on this show.

  Another minute and a half, I reminded myself.

  Yeah, I could hang another ninety seconds, then…I’d get the fuck out of here and find a quiet corner to mourn and grieve.

  As the last notes of the song echoed through the massive arena and the fans roared with elation, lead singer Burk Jennings screamed out the final word.

  Without waiting, he gripped his mic and screamed into the cacophony, “Thank you, Kansas City. We love you.”

  Then the lights went dark.

  Rushing off the stage, I headed for my dressing room. As usual, the hallway was alive, writhing and breathing with dozens of willing women, dressed for sin and reeking in the perfume of desperation. Vying for attention, they called out our names as if ordering steak off a menu. Most times I didn’t mind filling an order or two, but not tonight. All I wanted was a shower, a cold beer, and some solitude back at the hotel so I could try and process my grief.

  But before I could make it to my dressing room, gather my shit, and head to the bus, a bold brunette broke from the horde and practically tackled me. She was dressed—kind of—in a skimpy, gunmetal-gray naughty-Naugahyde fishnet bikini. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d picked the lock on a Jabba the Hutt collar and escaped the beast.

  She wrapped herself around me like a famished anaconda.

  “Darren. Oh, Darren,” she moaned breathlessly, dragging her tits up and down my chest. “I need you inside me.”

  No doubt, she’d had numerous gardeners plow her lady garden, but I had no interest in sticking my shovel in next.

  “Sorry, honey. Not tonight.”

  “No. Wait,” she insisted, gripping my sweat-soaked shirt in her fists. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

  The way she writhed and ground her pussy on me, I had the feeling she’d ridden more times than a Disney coaster.

  “Look, whatever your name is, I—”

  “What do you want it to be?” she purred, grinding her pussy against my zipper.

  Aw, hell. This chick wasn’t a fan. She was a pro who charged by the hour. As I started to peel her off me, she grabbed my neck and tried to pull me to her lips. Jerking my head to the side to avoid a blistering case of mouth herpes, I locked eyes on an angel so stunning, innocent, and wholesome I did a double-take. She was dressed in a snug, non-revealing tank top and faded blue jeans that hugged her body like a second skin, and I was instantly intrigued. Something about her called to the basal, primal caveman gene still lingering in my DNA. Or maybe it was her nervous body language that urged me to protect her from the vipers clogging the hallway.

  Who was this beautiful vixen, and what the hell was she doing here?

  Unable to peel my gaze off the stunning redhead with a peaches-and-cream complexion, I finally dislodged the clingy brunette. As I started toward her, the crowd around me blurred and vanished as tunnel vision swallowed me whole. When she realized I was coming for her, she blinked, sending the dark lashes—framing pale blue eyes slashed with indigo striations—fluttering over the pink hue climbing up her cheeks.

  The innocence rolling off her was like a breath of fresh air. It had been at least a couple of lifetimes since I saw a woman blush. But when she dropped her chin, the gesture was so blatantly submissive that my heart rate tripled and my cock stirred. Shy or not, I didn’t like the way she was trying to shield herself from me. I wanted to drink in her wholesome gentleness, wrap it around me, and hope it would smother the empty hole in my heart. I needed to simply talk to this woman far more than I needed some overzealous groupie to fuck.

  As I stepped in closer, the exotic scent of lavender fields and summer rain surrounded me.

  I was getting high just breathing her in.

  Christ, who was this girl and could I fucking keep her?

  When she lifted her head and peered up at me and I got a better look at her pretty blue eyes, shimmering like diamonds, I wanted to crawl inside her and claim every luscious inch of her soul. But the flicker of uncertainty there made me pause and move in slower. I didn’t want to spook her.

  But then she parted her glossy lips, nervously darting a pillowy tongue over them, and I felt a palpable connection whip around me like a lasso, nearly taking me out at the knees. There was no doubt about it, the gods had plucked the innocent nymph from my dirtiest fantasies and dropped her here, right in front of me.

  My dick and brain were screaming to haul her to my dressing room, strip her bare, and lay siege to her pouty lips and full breasts before dragging her beneath me and plundering her pussy until we couldn’t walk. But I ignored them.

  My soul ached for something more than the single-minded groupies lining the halls could provide. I needed companionship, understanding, and a sympathetic ear. Some sixth sense told me this fresh-faced, unassertive woman possessed all those traits and more. Even if she didn’t, I had to spend time with her. Had to dissect and analyze why she captivated me so deeply and unearth the reason I was desperate to meld myself with her mentally, emotionally, and physically.

  Christ. Either Mac’s death had messed me up far more than I realized or I was losing my mind.

  “Hi,” she shyly whispered.

  Her soft, melodic voice sent all rational thought scattering.

  Fingers tingling to touch her, I forced my hands to remain at my sides and smiled. “Hi yourself, beautiful. Did you enjoy the show?”

  “Oh, my gosh. Yes,” she gushed, grinning. “This has been the single most amazing night of my life.”

  It’s gonna get a whole lot better if I have my way.

  As I started to ask her name, Ozzy clapped me on the shoulder, shattering the pristine bubble of perfection surrounding us.

  “Hate to interrupt, but Quinn just sent Burk a text. We gotta head back to the hotel pronto for a quick conference call.”

  “Now? Right the fuck now?” I barked.

  “Don’t shoot me. I’m just the messenger.” Ozzy shot me a sympathetic grimace and walked away.

  The beauty before me looked crestfallen.

  Though I was pissed beyond reason, that same sixth sense told me she’d crossed my path for a reason. I wasn’t about to let this girl slip through my fingers until I discovered why. Shoving a hand in the back pocket of my jeans, I pulled out the key card to my hotel room.

  “Westin Crown Center, room eighteen twelve. Can you meet me there in an hour?”

  She blinked at the card, then back up at me—indecision written all over her face.

  “I’m not asking for anything more than the chance to talk. All right?”

  Liar.

  “O-okay.”

  “Time to go, Romeo,” Burk barked, barreling past me.

  Dismissing his directive, I gently cupped the side of her neck and seared the contours of her face to memory while a humming vibration zipped up my arm.

  “Sorry, but I can’t help myself,” I whispered as I slanted my mouth over hers, stealing a brief but electrifying kiss.

  I started to follow my bandmates to the bus, then paused and pivoted, drinking in the sight of her one more time. “What’s your name?”

  She hesitated a second, then smiled. “Elizabeth.”

  “I’ll see you shortly, Elizabeth.” I flashed her a smile and a wink, then jogged away

  On the bus, Syd bitched incessantly about missing out on the finest pussy of his life. I stared out the window, rep
laying every mind-boggling moment spent with Elizabeth. Her name fit her to a T. She was regal and feminine, yet earthy and so fucking innocent.

  Once the five of us were gathered around a cell phone in Burk’s hotel suite, Quinn MacKinnon, our agent and promoter, began rattling off the shows he’d added to our tour. Impatience was eating me alive. Beside me, Ross, our indifferent drummer, grumbled about the extra interviews. I didn’t give two shits about added shows or promo appearances, all I wanted was for this impromptu meeting to end so I could dash to my suite.

  Ten interminable minutes later, my prayers were answered. After jogging from Burk’s room, I shoved the replacement key I’d snagged from the front desk into the lock and eagerly entered my room.

  Elizabeth wasn’t there.

  My heart dropped like a stone.

  Dammit. She’d stood me up.

  Fighting the urge to punch a hole in the wall, I grabbed some clean clothes and stormed to the bathroom. Washing the sweat from my body, I clung to the foolish hope that she’d show up soon.

  There was no way she hadn’t felt the same crazy chemistry that I had earlier.

  After drying off, I tugged on a pair of gray cotton sleep pants and scuffed a towel over my hair. As I reached for my T-shirt, I heard the door of my suite snick shut.

  Relief, anticipation, and a tinge of anxiety whipped through me as I raced to the open sitting room and watched Elizabeth nervously step from the foyer.

  Catching sight of me, she sucked in a startled gasp before her wide-eyed stare danced over my bare chest. Trying not to smile at the approval written all over her face, I stood silently letting her drink in her fill. Her baby blues were stroking my ego and caressing my cock. As she dragged her focus to my face, I wanted to trace my fingers over the pretty pink blush on her cheeks to see if they were as hot as they appeared.

  “Hi,” she whispered in ball-churning shyness.

  “Hi.” I smiled. “Thanks for coming.”

  She didn’t answer, simply nodded uneasily.

  “Grab a seat. Get comfortable,” I said, gesturing to the long leather couch as I strolled to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”