by Kate Stewart
“Deal.”
He frowned down at me. “This weekend will be over before you know it, and I’m having a hard time with the interview issue. You live for opportunities like this.”
“Please, Nate, let JJ take it. I’m exhausted.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “You know we’re only as good as our last story, Stella. This will boost circulation.”
I looked at the man who had literally done everything in his power to prove his love and brushed my lips against his. “I’ll do it.”
He chased my lips and kissed me breathless. When he pulled away, his voice was hoarse.
“I need you to pull down your panties,” he said tightly.
“What?” Nate had never initiated sex at work since the night I roller-skated my way into his right side. “Give them to me. If I remember correctly from this morning, they are red lace.”
“Yes,” I said, my body drawing tight at the command of his voice.
“Take them off,” he barked.
Happily meeting his demand, I pulled up my favorite black pencil skirt, took them off, and swung them in front of his face with my index finger.
“Stella, you helped build this paper. Raise your skirt,” he matter-of-factly said, as if the words he’d just said didn’t have my pulse racing. I pulled it up to my waist as he leaned in, intent on keeping my attention above while he worked me down below. “It wouldn’t be half as successful without you,” he whispered as my breathing escalated. “I wouldn’t be half as successful without you,” he said, kneeling down in front of me as he shed his navy blue blazer. “Hold on, baby,” he whispered to my clit as he flicked his eyes to mine before he darted his tongue out in one smooth lick. “I love you.” Lick. Lick. Lick. He added a finger as my breath left my body and thrust upward as he sucked me greedily. “I think about you coming into my office, in that fucking T-shirt,” he breathed out as he added another finger and thrust up while I sank against his door and onto his hungry mouth. “I wanted to claim you then, and God, if I would have only known what we would become,” he said as he jackhammered his tongue against me, “I would have taken you hostage that day.” I burst in his mouth as he thrust his fingers faster, drawing it out and making it last. “You became mine the minute you walked in that door, beautiful. I’m so proud you’re mine. I’m never letting go.”
I had no idea where this confession was coming from. I felt it from him every day, but to hear the words coming from his mouth as he worshipped me was another level sort of thing. I never pressed Nate for more than what he gave. But I did wonder every once in a while, if he still loved me the same. If his feelings had been dulled by some of our fights or faded slightly with our ability to reach out and touch whenever we wanted. I knew longing and I knew comfort. I had and felt both from and with Nate, consistently. Still, his words, they reached deep. If he would have asked me in that moment to be his wife, I would have said yes without hesitation.
He leaned in and soaked his face in my arousal then pulled away, licking his lips clean. “And I love this sweet pussy so much.”
“God, please, Nate,” I asked as he stood and nailed me to the door, his forearm on my neck, pressing slightly while his fingers ran through my sex.
“I’ll give your panties back when you’ve earned them, and this,” he said, putting my hand on his bulging cock, “when you get home from rehearsal tonight.”
“You aren’t coming?”
“I can’t,” he said slowly, releasing me before the guilt surfaced on his features. “I have a conference call.”
Shoulders slumping, I narrowed my gaze. “Did you just get me off so I wouldn’t gripe at you about that?”
“Yes. But I meant every word.”
We shared a smile. “It worked.”
He kissed me deeply and didn’t stop until Sierra knocked on the door.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Flame: Cheap Trick
It’s amazing what can happen in three years. The man I was on my way to interview had made my first months in Austin bleak. He’d been a literal starving artist and I had no choice but to watch him grow as the tabloids took a special interest in his progress, but with good reason. A master of his craft, Reid often played gigs with other bands for various charities. Along with Ben, he’d also recorded songs with a few other high-profile musicians. Their talent was limitless, and Rye and Adam were praised with their own accolades. But together, the four of them soared. At least the last time I checked. And though I told Reid I’d watched it happen, I found myself a liar. I was still selfish when it came to the band. I listened to their first album alone in my SUV without interruption and knew the majority of the songs by heart. It was surreal to hear them again, improved so much in execution and sound. I’d listen to every beat, every note, and lyric, and tried in vain to find Reid and me in that album. Lexi was present, and so were the desperation-laced songs Reid had written in his journal while we were together. I made peace with the fact that I wasn’t there. In his own words, I was never supposed to be. But the underlying resentment grew, and I found myself avoiding any new articles or music that had to do with the Sergeants. I hadn’t lied when I said I was unprepared. I had done all I could to erase Reid from my radar.
The visit from him that New Year’s three years ago had devastated me. I’d been blindsided. But as my relationship grew with Nate, I had to chalk his visit up to Reid being Reid. A man who was trying to be better and wanted to apologize for all his mistakes, including me. I was in Reid’s oops box.
I’d let my emotions win with him and that proved to be a very dangerous thing. But twenty-four-year-old Stella Emerson was no longer a grenade. She was a levelheaded journalist who didn’t let her personal feelings rule her life and had a gold pathway rolled out before her.
I was irritated more than anything about being dragged into that part of my past. At least that’s what I told myself as I rode the elevator up to the top floor.
The penthouse.
I wondered what Reid thought about that. Maybe I would ask him on my podcast recording. Maybe the most secretive man in rock ‘n’ roll would finally let his audience know of his trials and triumphs. But I knew better, he would forever be that guarded man. Jaded in a way that couldn’t be shaken off even with all of his success.
My cell phone buzzed with an incoming message.
Paige: Did you pick up the cake knife?
Yes.
Paige: When will you be here?
You’re welcome. Seven.
Paige: Be here at six.
I let out a breath of frustration. I couldn’t let her rattle me that close to an interview.
I’ll try.
Though Paige and I had made amends, she was quickly nullifying our truce with her outrageous demands on her maid of honor. The phone rattled in my purse and I silenced it without looking at the message. I checked my appearance in the hall mirror. My face was still a little flushed from my office romp with Nate. I was practically glowing. I had to admit my outfit was killer, and so were the heels I swore I would never wear. I looked every bit the part of a serious reporter. My hair was tidy and pulled back into a double braided bun. The collared, low-cut red blouse I wore accented my cleavage just enough to be both sexy and business casual. Aside from that, heavy mascara and deep red lipstick were all I wore. I was as ready as I would ever be.
I knocked on the door with my equipment bag in hand. And then the warm needles tickled the skin beneath the nape of my neck and goose bumps spread up over my scalp.
Look up, Stella.
Mere seconds after that mental whisper, Reid Crowne knocked the wind out of me.
Reid ushered me inside the penthouse while the rest of me froze at the sight of him. He’d had his hair cut short to frame his face. It was still thick but gelled back slightly as if it annoyed him. He was clean-shaven, his masculine jaw on clear display, and he seemed . . . taller, even as I stood in heels. I pressed through the door as I processed.
“Look at
us, all grown up,” I said as I set my bag down on a table in the foyer and looked back at him with a grin. He shut the door and leaned against it, sliding his hands in his pockets. He had on gray slacks. Slacks? Business slacks, his signature boots, and a black V-neck T-shirt that looked like it should be paired with jeans, not half of a two thousand dollar suit. I had to admit, even in the odd pairing, it was sexy as hell.
“Where’s the tie, Crowne? You have a meeting later?” I chuckled.
My smile slipped as his eyes trailed down my face, swept my body in a caress that had my stomach fluttering and warmth spreading. When he got to my heels, his gazed flicked to mine in a collision. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
My mouth parted as my heart stopped and then resumed with that foreign yet familiar beat. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t going to make this easy. We stood a foot away from each other, just . . . staring at the similarities and the differences. I didn’t know the man in front of me anymore, and I wondered if I ever truly did. Still, in his eyes I saw the undeniable flame and knew without a doubt, I had never imagined our pull. I wanted out of that room, deeming myself an idiot that moment to think space and time had made me a safe woman.
“Holy shit, is that you, Stella?”
I turned to see Rye coming toward me. Rye had morphed into a hella man. But even as he whisked me into his arms and twirled me around, my eyes ventured back toward Reid. He was still watching me, his expression pained. He let his eyes drift to my hands clasped around Rye’s back.
Rye commanded my attention as he peered down at me with a lopsided grin. “What happened to you? You look so hot!”
I punched him in the chest. “Are you saying I wasn’t hot?”
“No, you were, just . . . you were hot T-shirt girl and now you’re all Gucci and shit.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself. And I hear congrats are in order. Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Angel, she’ll be by in about an hour. Are you hanging?”
“Not long,” I said as I glanced at Reid while we collectively walked into the main living room. The penthouse was spacious and modern.
Ben and Adam came out of an adjoining room, sipping Heinekens, and paused when they saw me.
Have I changed that much?
“Christ, Stella, you’re gorgeous,” Ben said as Adam whistled with his fingers. I got a bear hug from Adam and Ben swept me off my feet much in the same way Rye had.
“Hi,” he whispered in my ear as he held me tightly. “I’ve missed you, woman,” he said sweetly as he put me back on my heels. And though I wanted to take a testicle and gift wrap it for Lexi, I smiled back.
“Crowne, eat your heart out. You fucked up letting this one go.” I jerked my eyes to Reid, that all too familiar sentence, the same that came out of his mouth years before when he showcased me to Dylan. He was thinking of it too judging by the look on his face. I scolded Ben and turned the fire in his direction.
“I could say the same to you. You haven’t seen your ex,” I declared boldly, doing whatever I could to take the attention off mine and Reid’s ancient history. “You’re an asshole for what you did.”
“Let’s talk about that never,” he said with a serious tone.
“How about on camera?” Ben jerked back as if I slapped him and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare.”
“We will talk about it,” I said with warning in my voice.
“Fine, but later.” He sighed.
“Agreed.” I had to hand it to the guys; Father Time had been more than kind. Every one of them looked incredible, especially the drummer. Ben looked me over. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed.”
“Yeah, we’ve all been doing a lot of living,” I said as Reid stood in my peripheral. I kept my focus, despite the nagging urge to glance his way.
Before the uncomfortable silence could pass, I broke in, on a mission to get what I needed and get the hell out. The warmth was getting stifling, its ever-present threat expanding in my chest with Reid so near. “So, where do I set up? You guys have a place in mind?”
“Business already?” Rye said with a snort. “Don’t want to have a drink first?”
“That’s probably not—”
I was interrupted by the sound of ice to my right. Reid poured a healthy serving of whiskey into a rocks glass and I walked over to him and grabbed it. “Thanks.” I took a sip, and they all shared grins as Reid poured a second glass for himself. I stood back, stunned.
“I thought you weren’t drinking anymore?”
“He can handle it,” Ben assured me. “He doesn’t drink much.”
Utterly confused, I glanced in Reid’s direction and Ben intercepted. “Let’s go out to the patio, see if you think that’s a good spot for the interview.” Ben gripped my arm, and I had no choice but to follow. Once cleared of the door, he looked at me conspiratorially. “He went to rehab for the counseling,” Ben said on a whisper. “He never drank so much he needed help for that.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Why doesn’t it?” Reid said, making me jump as he lit a cigarette behind me, his jade gaze on my lips.
“Damn, man, I thought you told her,” Ben said in quick defense.
“I did. She was too busy throwing me out to listen,” he said with a shrug.
“Okay,” I said, feeling the accusation. “Well, it’s none of my business anyway,” I retorted, the whiplash from his sudden mood swings filtering through my body, a telltale sign it was a very bad idea to be standing anywhere with him. “This looks like as good of a place as any.”
“There’s a nice big bedroom down the hall,” Reid said. “I know how much you love a mattress. Maybe we could all fit, for old time’s sake.”
I reeled on him. “What the hell is your problem?”
He smirked, and I turned my back to him.
“I have a wedding rehearsal in two hours,” I told Ben. “I need to get this started. I don’t care if we have the interview in the damned bathroom.”
“There’s the cocky little Latina I know and love,” Ben said, looking between Reid and me with unease. “Don’t start shit, man,” Ben warned. “We owe her.”
“That’s why she’s here,” Reid reminded him. “My idea,” he murmured, full of sarcasm as he blew out a puff of smoke and tilted his rocks glass in my direction. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t want to come,” I said with a sigh. “And now I damn sure don’t want to stay.”
Reid threw out the rest of his drink in a nearby plant, and I moved toward the door. He stopped me with a hand on my arm, which I jerked away.
“Ben, let me have her,” Reid said sharply, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Hell no, she’s already pissed. We need this interview done. We’ve held off the press release for two fucking months so she could announce this tour!”
“I’ll play nice,” he whispered.
I raised my brow without a clue as to what was going on. And I decided it was best if I didn’t. “How about we don’t play at all. I’ll be set up in the living room in ten minutes.” I walked back into the penthouse and gave Adam and Rye a wary glance.
“Oh shit.”
I didn’t know which one it came from and I didn’t care. I mentally rehearsed a list of questions for both my podcast and Speak while I ignored the rattle. My questions for the podcast were far more personal, and I had no intentions of holding back. It’s like the boys said. They owed me.
“Stella,” Reid whispered at my back, making me jump as I tightened the lock on my tripod.
“It’s fine, Reid, save your apology. Let’s just get this over with.”
“You didn’t want to come?”
I let out a heavy breath, refusing to look his direction. “No.”
I felt the tightness start in my chest as I turned to face him and nearly slammed into his chest. All at once, I was surrounded by nicotine, the hint of whiskey on his breath, and the fucking Iris
h Spring that seemed to dance off his skin, putting me on high alert.
“You’re filthy rich, you think you would switch from cheap soap.”
“They make body wash now.” He chuckled.
Whiplash. Or maybe I’d just forgotten how volatile he was.
“Why are you still working at Speak?”
“I’m happy there,” I said, taken off guard.
“But that’s not what you wanted,” he pressed.
“I’m getting there,” I said. “These things take time.”
“Bullshit. You were supposed to be traveling and writing. That was your dream.”
“Dreams change,” I said with a shrug. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
He eyed me as if every word I spoke was a lie.
His next words were as dry as my throat. “Way to burn out, Stella.”
The sting of them hit deep. I hadn’t planned on doing anything more than finishing school and traveling to shows, living in the circuit in hopes of getting a break at one of the more reputable magazines. I shared those hopes with him. But that wasn’t all he was insinuating. I wasn’t doing anything that scared me and hadn’t since the minute I fell in love with him. The fact that he had the nerve to call me out on it after three years of being absent had me livid. I had to slow my breathing as the fear set in. The man knew me, I had made sure of it.
“Did you bring me here to shove your success in my face?”
He pressed his brows together. “Of course not, I got you here to do an interview for the band.”
I set my camera on the tripod. “That’s what I’m doing, your highness.”
As I’d suspected, the journalists had done a little word play on Reid’s name. He’d been deemed King Crowne.
“I don’t buy into that shit,” he said with a passive wave of his hand. “This is coming out all wrong. Can we start over? After the interview?”
“I’m going to Paige’s rehearsal.”
“Great, see you there.”
“You aren’t invited,” I called after him. “It’s a family thing.”