Anthony.
A smile tugs at the edges of my lips, and I give a happy little wiggle. Last night wasn’t a dream, then. I know I shouldn’t be this giddy, that for all I know, it could have been a one-night stand sort of thing. Rock stars are known for those, right? But nonetheless, the memories of what it felt like being wrapped around his body cause a warmth to stir in my belly.
I contemplate pretending to be asleep when he comes out but decide I’d rather be daring—something I’m starting to realize happens rather frequently around this man. I slip out of bed, still naked from the night before, my body buzzing with my newfound feeling of sexiness.
I tiptoe into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. His head is full of shampoo, his eyes closed, his hips swaying to the song he’s singing. It’s in Spanish, so I don’t understand much, but I do catch a few words. Amor, desesperado, corazón.
Anthony runs his hands through his hair, rinsing the suds and water before opening his eyes. His gaze immediately finds mine like he sensed me standing in the room.
“Well, hello there,” he drawls.
“Hey,” I answer, twisting a lock of hair around my finger. My lip is pulled between my teeth when I notice his arousal, making known my influence on him. “Mind if I join you?”
“Is that even a question?” He pushes the glass door open and I step inside.
The steam billows around us as Anthony pulls me to his chest. I look up at him, the water cascading off his back. His hair is sleek and his body wet, making him even hotter than usual. His tattoos are calling to me, dark against his skin. The moment feels like a scene from a movie, and the familiar flutter of wings dances through me.
The water rolls across his shoulders and splashes onto my breasts. The heat tickles my sensitive skin, his chest rubbing across my nipples as he presses me against him. They tighten in response and his mouth seeks them out, his tongue tracing one, then the other, as he nips and tugs, leaving me aching for him between my legs. I wrap my fingers around his hard flesh, running my hand up and down his shaft, and he moans my name.
I like my name on his lips.
Suddenly he grabs my ass and picks me up, pinning me between the shower wall and his hard body. The tiles are cold on my skin, but I welcome them as they cool the heat burning through me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and his cock jerks against my thigh.
“I want you,” I whisper in his ear.
He groans, covering my mouth with his.
“Shit, we need a condom,” he rumbles against my lips. I raise my hand and open my fist, holding the packet between my two fingers with a smirk. “God, you’re fucking amazing.”
My heart races in anticipation when he slides it on and finds his way inside me. I pull at his earlobe, my arms wrap around his neck, my fingers tangle in his hair. My body tightens around him, and I’m already so close. He thrusts deep, over and over, pinning me to the wall. Water splashes across our skin and into our eyes, but he doesn’t stop. He rocks against me, hitting all the right spots, until my body feels like it’s going to explode into a thousand sensual pieces. I lean in to him and moan.
“I’m coming.”
“Oh fuck. Me too.”
I bite his shoulder and he releases into me, the both of us climaxing in unison. I have half a second to consider the type of injuries we’d get if he slipped and we fell, but then I’m too far gone, gasping his name over and over. When we finally come down, I exhale, resting my forehead against his.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. I can’t help but grin. He doesn’t put me down right away. Instead, he kisses me tenderly, the gesture sweet and innocent in comparison to what we just did. “Darya Zameeni, where did you come from?”
“Mmm. I don’t know, but I’m liking where I’m at.”
He grins, wide and without any pretense, and the emotions make a beautiful mess of my insides.
…
“Please stop fidgeting,” I insist as Carlos wiggles beneath my fingers.
He huffs, adjusting himself on the couch. “I hate needles.”
It’s eight in the morning, but the noise level in Emmanuel’s suite is unbearably high. Everyone moves this way and that, gathering the remnants of our stay in Chicago to load onto the buses as we head out to Pittsburgh. The hustle and bustle this early should be a crime.
I’m nursing a headache, but when I remember the cause for my lack of sleep last night—and my morning…activities—my cheeks burn with the memory of Anthony’s body. Totally worth it.
Carlos continues to move around, pulling me back into the present. I give him a sideways glance as I attempt to keep his arm still while I insert a butterfly tip into his vein for his monthly draw. “You’re tatted up from head to toe. Are you really going to tell me that you can’t deal with a simple blood test?”
“That’s different.”
“If by different you mean one needle prick versus a hundred over and over again, yeah, sure, it’s different.” I roll my eyes.
He laughs. “Are you telling me to man up?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
As I fill the last vial of blood, a hand gently settles on my shoulder, and lips brush the crown of my head. Even though I can’t see him behind me, I purr with Anthony’s proximity, taking in his scent of soap and musk. Carlos’s expression becomes amused as I meet his questioning gaze.
I wasn’t sure how we were handling this morning, whether we were going to keep our relationship a secret for now, but judging from the PDA at first light, I guess we’re letting it all hang out. The damn butterflies I’ve been feeling for the past twenty-four hours refuse to pack up and go home.
“Good morning,” Anthony says lightly, as if I wasn’t pinned between him and my shower wall not two hours ago.
“Good morning!” Carlos replies, more energetic than necessary.
I go about my business of gathering the vials and handing them off to the courier, trying desperately not to blush as Carlos continues to stare at me. I know I’m a grown woman, but something about him knowing what his brother and I did last night makes me feel like a nervous teenager. I’m so preoccupied trying to pretend everything is normal that I don’t realize that Anthony is holding a Starbucks cup in my direction until I turn and almost knock it out of his hand.
“Shit. Sorry,” I mumble.
“It’s all good. Didn’t spill.” He grins, leaning in as he hands me the cup. “Relax.”
Easy for him to say. The morning-after awkwardness is a regular occurrence around here for these guys. There are always girls sneaking out of rooms or hanging around for breakfast before we take off to a different location. They’re usually with Mateo and Hugo, but still. I’m not the kind of girl who loses myself in the passion of a fairy tale. And the last time I had sex was over a year ago.
I pray that the heat flushing my skin isn’t turning me into a strawberry as Carlos continues to eye me, very obviously amused. Just when I’m about to try to come up with something witty to distract him from the smart-ass comment I’m sure he’s about to make, Emmanuel approaches Anthony.
“Hey, compadre, you got a minute? We need to discuss a few details about the tour. The label has been pressing me to make some decisions.”
Anthony’s bright expression darkens for a moment. I’m not sure what Emmanuel is talking about but it clearly upsets him.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good, cariño,” he says, lightening his features. “I’ll be back.” He kisses my cheek and heads off with Emmanuel. I watch his back as he goes, noticing the stiff pull of his shoulders. But before I have a chance to figure out what’s going on, Carlos whistles.
“So, you two,” he says. “I like it.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I exhale dramatically and he grins.
Even though I don’t admit it, having Carlos think this is a
good idea eases some of the tension in my belly. A doctor and a famous rock star is an odd pairing. I can already imagine the strange glances and wondering expressions as people make assumptions about who’s using who.
“Now, back to your exam,” I demand.
“Always so serious.” Carlos rolls his eyes but doesn’t resist.
Mike comes in just as I’m hooking Carlos up to the EKG machine. “Hey,” he greets us.
He’s put together with his perfectly styled hair and trimmed goatee. He’s sporting a pair of warm-up pants and a fitted baby blue T-shirt today, making his dark features stand out against the backdrop. His eyelids are naturally lined by thick, long lashes, giving him the appearance that he’s wearing eyeliner when he isn’t.
I scowl at him. “I hate you.”
He barks out a laugh. “Wow. I love you, too.”
“How do you look so good this early?” I whine. “I love you but damn, I hate you.”
Carlos watches the exchange between us with mild interest but quickly diverts his gaze and busies himself with his phone when Mike catches him. The smile threatening to claim Mike’s lips falls into a tight, thin line.
I glare at Carlos. What a jerk.
Mike locks eyes with me and in the silent conversation that transpires between us, I feel his irritation at Carlos’s disregard. Did they have a fight? Not wanting to make a very awkward situation worse, I decide to ask what’s happening later when I have Mike alone.
“I have to get my shit together.” He turns and heads back out of the hotel room.
I want to smack Carlos and tell him he’s being an idiot for letting Mike get away, but he’s not out, and I’m not supposed to know anything. So I swallow my disappointment and carry on with the exam.
Once all is clear, Carlos jumps up from the couch and scurries off before I have a chance to make him do anything else. I stand, flinging my medical bag over my shoulder, gathering the machine and all its parts so that the guys can load it onto the bus. Suddenly, two strong arms wrap around my waist. Anthony’s face nuzzles in the crook of my neck and his warm breath caresses my skin, causing goose bumps to rise across my flesh. He kisses the tender spot beneath my ear, and I can’t help sighing.
“Ready to get out of here?”
I nod and he grabs the bag from my shoulder and places it on his own. We walk hand in hand through the hotel and out the back where they have the tour buses waiting. The turning heads and quiet whispers from patrons of the hotel are not lost on me. I try my best to ignore their glances, refraining from yanking nervously at my T-shirt. Anthony seems unaffected, either not noticing or not caring.
Before we exit, I let go of his hand. I’ve been around long enough to know that there’s going to be group of paparazzi waiting for us, even though the crew is trying to find the most discreet way out of the hotel. He kisses the tip of my nose then hangs back with the band while Mike and I make our way to the bus with the rest of the crew.
Chapter Thirty-One
Darya
“Tell me you saw The Star Lighter today,” Niloo squeals into my ear as soon as she answers the phone. I was checking in on her and Maman, and this catches me off guard.
Sprawled across the couches in the back room, Mike and I are trying to relax. The boys are being super loud with their poker game and we’ve shut the door in an attempt to drown out the noise. It isn’t working. “No, why?”
“You need to,” she urges. “Immediately.”
“Mike, look up The Star Lighter on your phone.”
He raises a brow and I shrug, a knot of dread forming quickly in the pit of my stomach. He scrolls through his phone for a minute then stills as his mouth falls open.
“What is it?”
“Don’t panic.”
Niloo keeps jabbering on the other end of the line, but I can’t focus on what she’s saying. I hand my phone over to Mike as I grab his with both hands, staring in disbelief. Sitting on the front page of The Star Lighter is a photo of Anthony and me.
I blink ten times, convinced I’m not seeing right. But when I look up at Mike, his expression of worry, sprinkled with bits of amusement, confirms my suspicions. I am indeed awake and my picture is on the front page of the biggest tabloid magazine in the country.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
“Yeah, she sees it,” Mike whispers into the receiver. Niloo screams with excitement, and my belly roils with apprehension. “We will call you back,” he says. “I think your sister might puke.” He hangs up then reaches out and puts his palm on my knee. “Nafas bekesh, Darya.”
“I can’t breathe! I’m on the cover.”
“I know.”
“How the fuck did this happen?”
“You’re dating the biggest star in the music world right now, love. What did you think would happen?”
“Not this! We were being so careful.” I turn the screen toward him in case he’s forgotten what we’re dealing with. “This is me. Little, nobody me.” I’m holding Anthony’s hand, laughing, as he walks us to his car. “Travis and his men did a sweep before we came out. There was no one there. I didn’t even see any paparazzi!”
“That’s the point. They could have been taking it from a block away with some high-powered telephoto lens. They do that sort of thing.”
“Oh my God. Stop being so calm and rational! You’re not listening,” I insist. “I’m on the damn cover! I’m not supposed to be on a magazine cover.” I jam my hand through my hair. “And then this,” I add, pointing to the profile picture of me they’ve put in the corner, in my scrubs. “How did they even get this? Could they have chosen a picture to make my nose look bigger?” I huff, obviously still hanging on to my vanity despite the current state of affairs. “I think this is from med school.” As the reality of the situation settles in, the dread morphs into a boulder dropping down to my toes. “My mom’s going to see this.”
“It’s going to be okay, Darya. This is just part of the package.”
“Why do people say that? It’s part of the package to have our privacy violated?” I’m going to hyperventilate.
“No. I mean it’s not okay, but it happens. That’s the price of being famous.”
I force myself to breathe. “I’m not even famous, so why am I the one paying the price?”
“Because he is.” Mike squeezes my knee, a thoughtful consideration in the sad pull of his smile.
A light knock comes from the door. I have an idea who that may be but I don’t think I’m ready to deal with him. The knock comes again. I throw my arms over my eyes and groan.
“Come in.”
The door slowly slides open. “Emmanuel just told me about The Star Lighter. I came to talk to you about it, but it looks like you’ve already seen it.”
“I’m going to go get a soda,” Mike announces. “Want anything?”
“No,” I answer.
“Actually, I’m going to make some chayee. You look like you could use a hot cup of tea right now.”
I uncover my face. “Thanks.” He nods then leaves, shutting the door behind him.
I scoot up on the couch until I’m resting against the wall. I face Anthony’s concerned gaze even though all I want to do is hide in this back room forever and away from my newfound reality. The one that has me painted across tabloids. My phone buzzes beside me and I glance to see Trina’s name flashing across the screen. Great. I knew Trina or Lindsey would try getting a hold of their now-famous best friend, the two of them avid tabloid readers. I can imagine their gasps when they saw the damn picture.
The couch shifts as Anthony sits down beside me. He slides his arm under my legs and moves my feet onto his lap. His thumb rubs circles into my muscles, releasing the tension. The weight of his hands becomes an anchor in the chaos of my mind. “So you saw the picture, then.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. I’m a freaking doctor. I have patients who will see this. And my boss.” I groan. “I shouldn’t be on the cover of a gossip magazine. It looks bad. The board is not going to be happy.” I put my head in my hands and shake it as if that would cast aside the images now forever on the internet.
“I know, but if it makes you feel any better, it will be old news by next week when the next edition comes out.”
“Are you sure about that? Because I’m ‘dating’ the world’s most famous singer right now.” I wave my arms frantically in a circle. “Who’s this mystery woman? That’s what the headline says.” I huff. “When did I become some mystery?”
“When you said yes to our date.” He scoots in closer, placing his hand on the side of my face. “I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but—”
“Don’t say it,” I warn. “Don’t tell me it’s part of the package. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You may not want to hear it, but it’s the truth. There’s no way to hide from the paparazzi. We do our best and they still find a way to capture something. I tried to keep our date as discreet as possible.” His jaw ticks with worry.
“I know this isn’t your fault,” I assure him.
“Look, pictures in magazines are part of what you’ll be dealing with if you want to be with me. I know it sucks, but it’s just the way it is.” His gaze drops to my lips as he runs his thumb gently across them, then leans in until his mouth is only inches from mine. “I really hope you still want to be with me,” he whispers.
From this close I can see the hidden flecks of caramel sprinkled in his dark irises and it’s distracting, making me dizzy with the clashing of my heart and mind. And as he stares at me, hopeful and wanting, my words disappear on the tip of my tongue before I’ve had a chance to set them free.
What I should say is that I can’t be with him. That, despite my feelings, this is all too much. The women, the traveling, the late nights and early mornings, the pictures, and the bodyguards. I want to tell him that I can’t imagine this as my permanent reality, that despite how many women would trade places with me in a heartbeat, I prefer the calm quiet of my simple life. The one I worked hard to create.
Set to Music Page 17