I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (11 page)

“If we all tag-team each other, we should be able to keep an eye on him.”

Her smile detonated a fiery bolt of pleasure in his chest. But then she licked her lips, looking away. “I probably shouldn’t say this until I’m sure—but I think it’s Bax who’s giving Pete the drugs.”

“Bax isn’t going to risk his job by supplying drugs to Irwin’s bands.”

“But you’ll watch, right? You’ll be aware of him?”

“Okay.” His thumb stroked her cheek, while the rest of his hand slid into her hair. He needed to kiss that mouth, needed to feel her body wrapped up with his.

With a sigh, she relaxed. “Thank you.”

With other women, he kissed them as a prompt. It was the starting gun to the games about to be played. But with Violet . . . Derek wanted to
kiss
her. He wanted that sexy mouth
like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Wanted the thrill of that first meeting of tongues, that first sigh of surrender.

He couldn’t kiss her, but he had to touch her. Setting his hand on her hip, he said, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. And then she closed her eyes. He shifted closer to her, sliding his hand to her back. He waited, hoping she’d let go.

Finally, she inched closer, set her head in the crook of his arm and sighed. And fuck did he love the way she relaxed into him.

What the hell? He’d never
cuddled
with a woman in his life. Why this one? The one who wanted nothing to do with his world, who was just passing through.

Why her?

•   •   •

“So
here we are.” Slater sat down beside him, the steam rising from his coffee mug in a lazy swirl.

Other than Violet, no one got up this early, so Derek was surprised to see his friend. It was a good thing he always went back to the couch as soon as she woke up, or Slater would’ve found it empty this morning.

“Here we are.” A thrill shot through him. Tonight’s concert would be unlike any they’d played before.

His friend lifted his mug, tipped it against Derek’s glass of orange juice. “You worried?”

“Ha.” Worried? The Fourth of July on the Mall festival attracted several hundred thousand fans. The biggest names in the industry played. That meant every entertainment outlet would be there. The whole world would be watching. “Nah. It’s cool.”

They held a gaze before bursting out laughing. After a few moments, Slater settled down. “I hope I don’t shit my pants up there.”

“What’s your biggest fear?”

“About tonight?” Rubbing the back of his neck, Slater let out a breath.

Derek nodded.

His friend gazed into his mug. “Looking out into an
audience that’s bored shitless. Finding them talking to each other or texting. Waiting for Bono to get on stage.”

“Oh, man, that would suck.” He started to laugh, until he considered how real that fear might be to him. “Gotta tell you, that’s never happened before. Doubt it’s gonna happen tonight. We’ve got real fans, man. We do.”

“Yeah, but we never opened for U2 or Kings of Leon.”

“True, true.”

Something crossed Slater’s features, something dark. “Sucks that my dad can’t be here, you know?”

Ah, now they got to it, what was really bugging him.
Slater’s dad had thrown all his energy into turning his son into the rock star he could never be, and he’d died before Slater had achieved it. That would suck.

“It does,” Derek said. “But he’d be so fuckin’ proud of you.”

Slater shifted, like the idea of it made him uncomfortable. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re killin’ it. Livin’ what he could only dream about.” Derek nodded with confidence. “He’d be damn proud of you.”

His friend stretched his legs out under the table. “I guess so.”

“When you’re up on that stage tonight, he’ll be watching, punching his fist in the air, running back and forth and shouting to anyone up there who’ll listen, ‘That’s my boy.’”

Slater blinked a few times, looked away. “Yeah. I could see that.”

Soft footfalls coming from the bedroom made Derek’s skin tingle. Fresh from the shower, hair wet, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, Violet headed into the kitchen. She smiled softly at them. “You guys are up early.”

“Yeah,” Slater said. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Derek sat mute, stunned at how beautiful she looked in the morning, her face younger without the makeup, her complexion smooth and clear. She opened the refrigerator, started pulling out eggs and cheese.

Slater leaned closer to him. “So what’s up with you two?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.” He kept his voice low, but she
seemed oblivious as she cracked eggs, fired up the stove, and hummed quietly as she prepared breakfast.

His friend, who knew him better than anyone, just waited.

“Hell. I don’t know. I mean, nothing’s happening. I’m not . . .
fuck
.” He sucked in a breath. “Nothing
can
happen. I like her. I like her a lot. But . . .”

“But what?”

“But she’s not in my world.” He watched her answer her phone, tuck it between her shoulder and ear. A gentle smile warmed her features. She was so fucking beautiful. “I’m not gonna just fuck her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, so, then nothing’s happening. She’s only with us another month, maybe two. Then she goes back to her world, and I stay in mine. Nothing
can
happen.”

“But it is happening. Anyone can see it. For both of you.”

He cut a look into the kitchen, locked eyes with her, and heat poured through him. “Come on, man. I can’t . . . I don’t even want that.”

“Want what? A girlfriend?”

Now, he just felt itchy and uncomfortable. “I can’t want someone who doesn’t want me back. I can’t do that . . . wanting bullshit.”

He picked up his glass, rocked it, the orange juice sliding from one side to the other. He’d had a lifetime of it with his dad. Wanting to be around him and constantly being pushed away . . . Yeah, done with it.

Besides, he knew what worked for him. Women like Gen. Who wanted the same thing he did.

“You know, I met a lot of girls before Emmie,” Slater said. “And every one of them made it easy for me to say I didn’t want a relationship. But then . . .” He blew out a breath. “When you meet
her
,
your
girl? Everything changes. All those excuses go right out the window. Because no matter how much I didn’t think she fit into my life, how hard I figured a long-distance relationship would be, none of that shit mattered, because I’d found her
.
And nothing, I mean nothing, was going to stop me from hanging on to my girl. The one that’s
mine
.” He stared thoughtfully into his mug. “When you find her, you don’t even question it.”

Derek watched Violet, and heat spread through him. Did he want her? Hell, yeah. But so what? He respected her too much to make her his tour fuck buddy. And what more could he offer her at this point?

Not a damn thing.

•   •   •

She’d
been on yachts and private jets, met politicians and celebrities. She’d dined in the most exclusive restaurants in the world. In some ways, she thought she’d seen it all.

But she’d never walked the red carpet.

The stretch limo pulled to the curb, the doors opened, and the world exploded into flashing lights and screaming fans.

Violet grabbed her clutch, wondering how she was going to keep an eye on the guys at an event like this one. Fortunately, they’d talked and agreed on a game plan. No hard liquor, 2 a.m. curfew, and they’d each take turns keeping an eye on Pete.

One at a time, the guys got out of the limo, Slater clutching Emmie’s hand the whole time. Violet dropped her phone into her clutch, giving the band a moment to themselves in the spotlight.

“You ready?”

She looked up to find Derek leaning into the limo. Why did that make her so ridiculously happy?

She’d expected him to be with the others, enjoying his special moment. Instead, he’d waited for her.

She caught his hand and slid out to join him. As she stood, he leaned into her. “You’re my girlfriend.” His lips brushed high up her cheek, close to her ear. “You have to be with me.”

A thrill zipped down her spine. “Well, if I
have
to.”

He smiled, holding her gaze, blocking out the whole crazy world. Then he led her along the red carpet.

Once inside the building, they followed the others to the bank of elevators. Everyone on a high from an amazing show on the Mall in Washington DC, they crowded into the waiting car, their energy way too tumultuous for the small space. Derek led her to a corner, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in close, her back to his front. He nuzzled her ear. “You okay?”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “There’s no press in here, you know.”

“Violet.” The way he said her name, almost chastising, definitely teasing, made her want to turn in his arms and give in to what he was offering. “Don’t you know I’ll take any excuse to touch you?”

She really shouldn’t let him, not with everyone watching. What would they think of her? It would be awful if it got back to Irwin.

“Man, that was incredible.” Pete bounced on his toes.

“Best show ever, guys,” Emmie said. “Your throat okay?” She gazed up at Slater with concern.

“Fine.” He smiled. “Perfect.” And then he flashed his movie star smile Violet’s way. “Thanks for the tea.”

“You’re welcome. I hope it works.” She’d had Francesca
send her honey from their apiary. Mixing it with ginger juice and some herbs soothed vocal cords.

“You got that stuff for me?” And it wasn’t lost on her how much Pete’s attitude toward her had changed. She appreciated that he was trying.

“I had it sent to the hotel in New York.” He worried about carpal tunnel syndrome, so she’d ordered him some ruta. Some arnica and hyperiam, too. But she wouldn’t give him anything until he’d seen a doctor, so she’d made an appointment for him in the city.

The car landed with a lurch, and Derek’s arms tightened around her. “Stick with me?”

Honestly? There was nowhere she’d rather be. Unfortunately, she had to work. “You go have fun. Just keep your phone handy.”

His features shut down. She hated the way she did that to him—killed all that happy, vibrant energy. But what could she do? He was her
client.

The moment they stepped onto the roof, the press, fans, and industry executives surrounded them. Hundreds of people—all VIPs—crowded the huge rooftop in downtown DC for the private party thrown by U2 to celebrate the festival they’d just played.

Candles flickered on every surface—café, buffet, and bar tables—and strings of little white lights caught on all the divots, sequins, and piercings worn by the guests. Shrieks of laughter, the roar of conversation, made the atmosphere animated and electric. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

“Oh, shit, look, it’s Michael Stipe,” Ben said. “Come with me?”

“Let’s hit the bar first,” Cooper said.

“Don’t want to miss him,” Ben said, taking off. “Later.”

Pete and Cooper headed toward the packed bar.

“I’ll go get us a table,” Slater murmured to Emmie. “You guys going to join us?”

“You go on,” Violet said. “I have to keep an eye on Pete.”

They both looked at Derek, who reached for Violet’s elbow. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

The couple headed off, but Violet didn’t miss the way
Emmie glanced down to where their bodies touched, confusion marring her pretty features. Violet stepped away from him, almost giving him a shove.

“You go with them. Have fun.”

But he only smiled and caught her hand in his. “You’re my girlfriend. We stick together.” He nodded toward the flashing lights of photographers grabbing shots of all the celebrities.

She could not believe how easily she gave in to him. She’d never had a problem with boundaries before, but with Derek? He made it extremely difficult for her to turn him down.

And really, why would she let an opportunity to play his girlfriend pass her by? She stepped into him, her arms reaching around his neck, when she heard a feminine voice.

“Mm-mm-
mm
.” Genevieve Babineaux sashayed over to them, arms thrown wide to embrace both of them at once. A quick assessing gaze of Violet was followed up with a stroke of her hand down Derek’s chest right to his waistband. She tugged him toward her. “You are such a sexy beast. I’ve missed you.”

He jerked back, obviously irritated with her. “Gen, this is Violet Davis.”

“Yes, of course. Lovely to meet you.”

Forced to take a step back, Violet shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

In a cloud of expensive perfume, the woman swept right in front of her and slid her hands up Derek’s shirt. “Before I get caught up in work, I have to give you this.” And then she pulled a hotel key card out of her clutch. She slid it in his back pocket, giving his ass a squeeze. “I’ve got a room for us.”

“Knock it off, Gen. You know I’m with Violet tonight.” He took her by the wrists, pulling her away from his body.

A rush of prickly energy burned through her, making her realize she was jealous of Derek’s
girlfriend
. What stupid game was she playing? Letting this sexy, gorgeous, completely wonderful man sleep in her bed every night? He wasn’t hers. He never would be.

He’d never leave this crazy, decadent life, and she’d never join him in it.

Oh, my God. He doesn’t want you to join him in it, you
nut.
He wanted to have sex. That was it. He was a wildly passionate man who loved women, loved
sex
. And if she spread her legs for him, he’d dive right in. And then move on to the next woman he got a hard-on for.

It was just so confusing because he looked at her like he was one frayed thread away from snapping and just freaking
taking
her. The man touched her like he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He held her so tightly all through the night she felt completely and totally possessed.

She’d never felt so wanted, so desired, in her life. And God help her she could
not
find it in herself to turn him away.

Maybe she needed this reminder that he had an actual girlfriend. That he was just a man with big sexual needs. And she was the available female body close enough to rub up against.

Thank God
she hadn’t compromised her integrity for him. Imagine if she’d given in to her intense need to touch him back, to kiss him, and relieve the ache she felt every time he touched her.

“I’ve got work to do,” Violet said. “I’ll give you two some much-needed time alone.”

“You’re not going without me.” A minute ago, he’d been relaxed. Now, his jaw muscle strained. “I’ll catch up with you later, Gen. We’ve got to keep an eye on Pete.”

“That’s
her
job. Let her do it.” She hooked her arm through his, pressed her breasts into him. “You’ve got a job, too. I’ve got about a dozen interviews set up for you guys. Now, where’s Slater?” She scanned the area, found him at a small table nearly hidden by potted plants. “Okay, seriously? He thinks this is sexy time for him and his little love muffin?” Grabbing Derek’s hand, she said, “Let’s go.”

“Hang on.” He reached for Violet. “She’s my girlfriend, remember? She’s coming with me.”

Gen took Violet in, from the black sparkly stilettos to her deep purple full-skirted dress with the plunging neckline. “I’m not sure what look you’re going for, but the public’s buying it so who cares, right?”

Violet was well practiced at hiding hurt, pain, and mortification, so she could only hope her habits didn’t fail her in this moment.

“What’re you talking about?” Derek checked Violet out again, looking confused. “She looks beautiful.”

Gen rolled her eyes. “Of course she’s attractive. No one would believe for a second you’d be with a dog. She just doesn’t look like someone you’d go for. Come on, sex god, put the pieces together. Me, Adriana, Lisa Van Owen?” And then she tossed a careless nod toward Violet.

He tightened his arm around Violet’s waist. “I think she’s the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Gen looked stunned, studying his face carefully. “What is this?” She stepped closer, her finger wagging between them. “You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”

Violet rolled her eyes, not letting either of them see how sharply the woman’s arrows had pierced her skin. “Okay, I’m going to leave you two to do your thing, and I’m going to do mine.”

“See? She gets it. It’s just business, baby. That’s all we’re about. And she
wants
to know if her look isn’t working, am I right?” But the woman didn’t wait for an answer. “She’s got the femme fatale dress, but Park Avenue shoes and hair. Derek doesn’t do Park Avenue.” Gen leaned in, tugged the bodice of Violet’s dress down so that her breasts nearly popped out. “Swipe some red lipstick on.” She shoved both hands into Violet’s hair and messed with it before Violet could pull away. “Fix her hair. She’s got to look fuckable if we want the public to believe you’d be with her.”

“Jesus, Gen.” Derek stepped between the two. “Keep your hands off her.”

“I’m your publicist. It’s my job to make sure she looks like your girlfriend and not a sober companion. Do you want it to get out, who she really is?”

Violet had had enough. “Excuse me.”

She broke away from them, heading for the bar. Except, she really didn’t want to run into anyone at the moment. She wasn’t that good of an actress. Maybe she’d head to the bathroom, pull herself together.

But before she could get far, Derek grabbed her, tucked her under his arm. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m going to the ladies’ room. Would you please order me a San Pellegrino with a slice of lime?”

“Don’t let her upset you.”

“Don’t let her upset me? Are you kidding me?” She pulled away, needing distance, and took a deep breath. “She’s such a
bitch
.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. We don’t have time for this right now. You have press to do, and I have to find Pete. Just go back to her and do your job.”

His arm slipped around her waist, and he slammed her up against him. “Not going to do that, V. Not until we get something straight, because I don’t want you hurting even for a minute. You’re ten times the woman Gen will ever be. You’re
everything
. Strong, beautiful, smart, kind. You’re fucking perfect. So don’t let a cold, manipulative woman undermine you.”

She smiled, her heart beating thickly. He kept giving her these glimmers of something unique and exciting, something utterly breathtaking. A potential for a kind of passion she craved.

She felt it again in that moment, as their chests pressed so closely, his gaze penetrating so deeply. When he did that, he made it hard to remember that this was just who he was. An intense, passionate guy.

It wasn’t about her. He had Gen.

And she had a job to do.

And she never compromised herself on a job.

•   •   •

Lipstick
tube in hand, Violet stood to the side, waiting to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the crowded bathroom. Funny thing about women like Gen. They didn’t make random comments—they knew a competitor’s soft spot and went right for it.

How could she tell where Violet hurt? She knew she covered her emotions well—hid herself in thoughtfully prepared costumes. No one saw her real self.

Growing up in foster care, she’d never minded hand-me-downs, had never cared if the kids teased her for her dirty, ill-fitting clothes because she knew she’d never be in one school for long. Foremost on her mind had been managing the situation once she got home. So the kids could
make fun of her, ignore her, and she barely noticed. Her mind was on where she’d get food, how she’d avoid angry hands, and finding places she could hide when things got bad.

And they always got bad. In her experience, good, kind, decent people didn’t take in orphaned kids. They adopted. People who used unwanted kids for cash were a different breed altogether.

So, clothing? Teasing from other kids? Didn’t make a dent. It wasn’t until her first job, the one Francesca had gotten for her as a nanny for Teresa Blackwell, socialite wife of Hunter Blackwell, managing director of the Blackwell Fund, that the pain of not fitting in all those years had surfaced.

Teresa had dressed her. No nanny of hers would wear cheap, ill-fitting clothes. The woman shopped literally every day. And on each outing, she’d bring home the most luxurious, stylish clothing Violet had ever seen.

And the makeover drove it home—how those children throughout her childhood had seen her.

And right then, after combing her fingers through her hair to smooth out the mess Gen had made, as she assessed herself in the mirror in the dark bathroom, crammed with club-goers in sparkling body-hugging dresses and six-inch stilettos, cleavage everywhere, she understood how Genevieve saw her.

She never wore clothes that revealed her figure. She didn’t choose clothes that made her stand out in any way. In her world, not only did being invisible work, but deemphasizing her sexuality kept her safe.

She’d never even thought about looking sexy for a guy. Until tonight, this moment, when Gen made her feel sexless and bland. For the first time, she wanted to be sexy. For
Derek
to find her sexy.

Until she remembered what he’d said.

You’re beautiful and smart and kind and just fucking perfect.

She would never be Genevieve Babineaux. God, she didn’t want to be.

She wanted to be the woman Derek saw. Which, of course, she already was.

And wasn’t that the revelation?

Dropping her lipstick into her clutch, she smiled and headed out of the bathroom.

•   •   •

For
the next couple of hours, Violet moved through the crowd, watching the guys in action. Mostly, Ben sat in small groups, having intense discussions, while Pete was all over the place, bouncing from one group to the next, hitting on women everywhere.

What he didn’t understand was that these women weren’t nymphs. Not only didn’t they show interest in him, they gave off almost hostile vibes. He didn’t seem to notice or care. She suspected he was high. Well, no, she didn’t suspect at all. He was wasted. But so far his behavior wasn’t out of control, so she’d let him be.

Occasionally, she’d glance toward the table where Derek, Slater, and Gen chatted with reporters. She couldn’t lie—she got a jolt every time Derek’s gaze collided with hers. He watched her. A lot.