I Want You to Want Me (Rock Star Romance #2) (20 page)

His kisses turned wild as he lifted his hips and peeled off his gym shorts. And then he was there, his hard erection pressed to her stomach.

She wanted him inside. “Need you. Now.”

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking, pulling hard, driving her wild. And then he lowered between her legs, a hand clamped on each thigh, spreading her open for him. He licked into her, focusing on her clit. She curled her fingers into his hair, her hips rocking, and she sank into the most obscene pleasure she’d ever felt.

When his hands cupped her ass, brought her right to his mouth, she lost her mind. She whispered his name, let it take off on a gust of wind, as she let go and closed her eyes, and gave herself over to him. Heat burned through her, melting her bones, igniting a fierce and wanton ache in her core that spread so wildly it made her body vibrate. His
fingers flexed into the flesh of her ass, and he moaned as a hot wave of desire powered through her.

Her body tightened, fingertips and toes tingling, as the roar of her orgasm swept over her, sending her soaring into the twilight.

Before she even caught her breath, he’d reached under her back, cupped her shoulders, and thrust inside her. Oh, God, he just consumed her, the way he pounded into her so ferociously. It was wild and intense, and she’d never felt so connected to anyone or anything on this earth.

And she needed that. God, did she need it.

His hips pitched forward, and the scrape to her clit shocked her, making her cry out. The pleasure was so intense, she planted her feet on the blanket and thrust up into him, holding her hips right there so he could ram over it again and again. And then she was jerking, body twisting to get him deeper. Her second orgasm hit hard. Held her in an unrelenting clench.

Finally, it broke and she settled back down on the blanket. A torrent of emotion flooded her, as Derek’s thrusts turned frantic. He’d lost all control, and she’d done that to him. She held on tightly, gave his thrusts right back, until he shouted his release, slamming into her with short, hard jerks.

When he slowed, he tucked into her neck. “Oh, fuck me.”

She smoothed her hands on his damp back. He kissed her neck, her jaw, her cheek, her eyelid, her nose, and then her mouth. Plundering kisses that left no question in her mind how he felt about her.

“That was amazing,” she said.

“If you call me a sex god, it’s not going to go well.”

She smiled. “Okay, but you do have some wicked good moves.”

He lifted his head to look at her; he wasn’t smiling. “I don’t want to leave you.”

She stiffened. Oh, God, were they planning on leaving already? She hadn’t heard a specific date.

He tilted his head back and looked at her. “No, I mean now. I want to stay inside you.” Gently, he pulled out of her, and she felt the loss of him right away. He flopped onto his
back. “Get dressed in case someone comes by.” He reached for her bikini, shook out the sand, and handed it to her.

Not like anyone would wander by this little cove, but she sat up to put the top on. “When do you leave?”

“Irwin doesn’t care about the festivals. Too many bands on too many stages, so we won’t be missed. He wants us to focus on the big show.”

“Madison Square Garden?” He was holding something back, she could tell. She turned to him, caressed his chest. “So when does he want you in the city?”

He looked anxious. “He’s got a keyboardist for us. He wants us to start working with him right away.”

“Okay. In the city?” She didn’t want to press, but he wasn’t giving her a straight answer.

His hand covered hers. His other hand went under his head as he gazed at the stars. “Not sure. Irwin doesn’t tell us much.”

“Do you want him to come out here? Practice with the band in the barn?”

The most beautiful, peaceful smile curled his sensuous lips, and he turned to her, so they were face to face. “Yes. Would that be cool with you?”

She nodded. The idea of him leaving killed her.

“I’ll talk to Emmie about it. I can’t imagine it’ll be a problem.”

“You know, there’s a great club in Westhampton, about thirty minutes from here. Live music Thursday through Sunday, and since it’s right where all the cool kids hang out—East Hampton, Southampton—it’s always hopping. You guys can try out your new music . . . and your new keyboardist.”

“I like the way you think.”

I like the way you look at me.
And then she wondered why she hadn’t said that out loud. He’d cut himself open for her, and she’d taken all he had to give. She needed to give some of herself back. The words formed on her tongue, but she couldn’t let them out.

She thought again about what Emmie had said. How she’d never seen Derek like this before. Emmie would
know. And she wanted to deserve this gift—of his passion. He needed someone who could be as open and loving with him as he was with her. God, she would do anything to be that person for him.

Well, it wasn’t like she could back away at this point. She was in. For as long as she could have him, she was going to give it a go.

And that tiny ember of hope flared somewhere deep inside her. The social worker had been wrong because look at her now. Feeling so much, experiencing passion. Could passion lead to love? Maybe with the right man . . . Was Derek that man?

Her breathing quickened. She wanted that so much. She wanted
him
.

“What’re you thinking about?” He brushed the hair off her face and tucked it behind her ears. “I love when you wear your hair like this. It’s so fucking sexy.”

She should tell him. Tell him how much she cared for him, what an amazing man he was. And she should tell him what worried her, that she feared she couldn’t be the whole woman he so totally deserved.

He needed to hear good things from her—anyone would, but he needed it more, thanks to his dad, thanks to the way she’d kept pushing him away.

But the words got stuck in her throat. And in their place, she said, “Why did you get this one?” Her fingers stroked the tribal tattoo that encircled his bicep.

She was awful for missing an opportunity to return his honesty.

Worse, to miss an opportunity to make them closer. Because not only did she hurt him by withholding, she hurt herself, too. She kept herself from having the closeness with him she so desperately wanted.

He laughed uncomfortably. “I was eighteen. Slater and I decided to form a band. So we got drunk and went to a tattoo parlor. I asked for something
bad ass
.”

“Why does that embarrass you?”

“Because I’ve grown up since then. Ink should mean something.”

“What about the others?”

He shrugged, looked away. “I started dating the tattoo artist. She gave me most of them.”

She swatted him. “Could you be any more predictable?” She laughed, but her heart squeezed. It was his pattern. That didn’t mean what they shared wasn’t real. It just meant . . . this is what he did. He hooked up with the women he worked with.

And that just sucked.

And she couldn’t help feeling a little relieved she hadn’t shared her heart with him.

Just in case.

•   •   •

Derek
came out of the bathroom, skin still damp from a shower, and came to a stop when he took in Violet smoothing lotion onto her legs. All that dark hair shimmying with her movements, her sexy curves, Jesus, just the sight of her had his blood heating. When she looked up at him and smiled, he felt a crazy sense of energy shoot through him.

What
was
this? He quickened his steps and covered her body with his. Instead of laughing or pushing him away, she scraped her hands through his wet hair and welcomed his kiss.

“You smell good.” He breathed her in, easing her down onto the mattress.

“You smell like me.”

“Yeah, should’ve brought my shampoo in from the bus. Do you mind that it’s parked out there?”

“Not at all. It gives us more room, especially if the new guy comes out here.”

He shifted off her onto her side. “You need a bigger bed.”

“Don’t get me started. I have a list a mile long of all the things we need to have done here. If I even think about it, I hyperventilate.”

“Speaking of ventilation, how about some air-conditioning?”

“The house is a hundred and fifty years old. You can’t imagine what work needs to be done before we get to luxuries like air-conditioning. Besides . . .” She rolled to her side, those pretty fingers tracing the musical notes on his
chest. “I like a natural breeze. We’ve got ocean on both sides of our little peninsula here. If you’re very, very quiet, you can hear it.”

“That’s not what I want to hear.”

“What
do
you want to hear?”

He lifted her tank top, exposing her full, round breasts, and then he licked a nipple. She moaned. “I want to hear that.” His mouth closed over the hard little bead, and his tongue pulled hard.

“Oh, Derek.”

“Definitely that.” His finger slid under her thin cotton pajama shorts and into her slick heat. He swirled it around her clit, all the while licking her nipple to the same slow rhythm.

“Derek.” She gasped, reaching for his hair, holding him in place. “Oh, God. It’s . . . I’m so . . . it’s so good.”

He worshipped her breast, lavished her clit with attention, until she arched off the mattress. “Oh, my God.” Body wracked with shudders, she clutched him tightly.

He waited until she calmed down some, before releasing her breast. “And that? That’s what I want to hear most of all.”

She stretched languidly. “That never happens to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“With you, I just flare up. It’s like I’m primed, and then you touch me and I go right up in flames. It’s crazy.” She sighed. “We’re crazy.”

“We’re perfect.”

Her finger traced the tattoo on his forearm. “Derek.”

It felt so good, and his dick was so hard, he found it hard to speak. “Yeah.”

“I got an email.”

“Okay.”

“From Buck O’Reilly.”

His dick softened. “How’d he get your email address?”

“He didn’t. He emailed someone at Amoeba, who forwarded it to me.”

“Jerk’s using you to get me on his show?”

“He’s only got a couple of time slots left, so he was hoping I’d reserve one. He said he doesn’t even care if you wind up having to cancel. He just wants to book you while you’re in town.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just . . . tell me what’s stopping you. Instead of showing the world Johnny Depp onstage with you or the band bowling, show them
you
. Your talent. Give them a reason to take you seriously.”

He jerked away from her, sat up. “I don’t feed that shit to the media to get attention on
me
. I do it for the band. To sell tickets to shows. To sell records.”

She sat up with him, all soft and sweet. She had one hand caressing his thigh, the other gripping the hair at the back of his neck. “Okay, but it
is
about you. You’ve said before it takes the attention off what your dad’s saying about you.”

“Right, so it doesn’t affect the band.”

“But you hate that people might believe him. He used to be a strong voice in the music community. What he says has impact. So when he makes disparaging remarks about you, it has to kill you that everyone will believe him. Do
you
believe him?”

“No.” He paused. “I don’t know.”

“Irwin doesn’t.”

“You don’t know what Irwin thinks. No one does.”

“Of course we know what he thinks. He wouldn’t have signed your band if he thought you were all flash and no substance. The band
is
you and Slater.” She kissed right over his heart. “If you’re worried people believe your dad, prove him wrong.”

He shrugged. What if he couldn’t prove them wrong? “I don’t have to prove myself to anyone.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be called a virtuoso than a sex god?”

“Of course.” But then she touched his face, made him look at her, and he just crashed. The heavy weight he carried in his chest just crashed. “I’m not a virtuoso. Do you know how rare that is? I might be good, but I’m not that good.”
And if I go on the show, everyone will know that.

“Derek.” So much kindness in her voice. Such warmth and sweetness. “You’re afraid you’re not as good as your dad. You’re afraid if you perform a solo gig, the truth will come out.” She shifted so that she faced him, on her knees, leaning into him, all that hair brushing over his arms, his chest. “So do it to face that fear. Do it to let your dad go.
What he says, what he thinks, who he is, his talent? It doesn’t affect you at all. You’re you. And you’re great. And by performing on Buck’s show, you’ll show yourself who
you
are. Not who your dad says you are.”

She’d set something off in him. All this anxiety raced in his veins. He got off the bed, snatched his jeans off the back of a chair.

She got up on her knees. “Come back here.”

He was breathing too hard, too much energy zinging around in him. He didn’t need to prove himself to anyone. He had a career to manage. A record to sell. A band to get to the next level. “I don’t have to prove anything. I have shit to do. I have to take care of my band.”

But the soft look in Violet’s eyes, her soft curves, and all that sexy fucking woman made his anxiety dissolve. She watched him expectantly.

“What?” He found it hard to be irritated with her when she looked at him like that, all soft and caring.

“Come here.”

He loved when she got all forceful with him. He smiled, came back to the bed. She draped herself around him.

“I love that about you. That you take your career so seriously. You’re a leader, and that’s hot. But right now I’m talking about the other side of you. The artist. I’m wondering when you’ll let that side shine through.”

Her hands caressed his chest in slow sweeps. Her scent, her hair, everything about her surrounded him, invaded him, making him restless and hard.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me this then. Is your dad right? Are you more concerned with going gold than creating and playing music?”

What the
hell
? “You think I’m in it to be a rock star?”