Mr. Rockstar (7 page)

“
You’re so sweet.” He licked his lips and breathed against her again. Then he brought the knife down and eased it under the elastic. With a short, sharp jerk, he split the fabric on one side, then the other, exposing her labia. He grabbed the scraps and tossed them away, leaning in to blow on her.

She couldn
’t help it. Her legs tightened, trying to get him closer. She thought she’d be embarrassed, knowing that this man she’d just met could see completely through her at her most vulnerable, but she wasn’t. She needed him too much. And he’d done nothing to hurt her.

“
Yeah, that’s gorgeous,” he said, bringing the knife up again.

Isabelle froze.

He glanced up at her, then touched the hood of her clit with the blade. “If I slip…”

She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry.
“Don’t slip.”

He smiled, slow and devastating.
“I won’t.” He gently used the knife to prick at her, not enough to cut her, but enough for her to understand how very dangerous this was. The tiny points of pain made her cry out, even as she held herself immobile.

“
God, you’re so wet,” he muttered, bringing his other hand up to rub the arousal trickling down. He spread it around her pussy, carefully avoiding the knife and her clit. When she gasped, he leaned in, inhaling. “So sweet.”

“
Marvin, I can’t hold still,” she said, legs burning from the effort.

He grinned, pricking her a few more times while she gripped the dresser in desperation. He stared at her, eyes
wicked and hot. Just when she knew she couldn’t hang on any longer, he swiftly tossed the blade away and replaced it with his mouth, kissing and licking her clit. Isabelle threw her head back as her orgasm crashed over her. When he slid his fingers into her pussy, still sucking at her clit, another wave of pleasure washed through her. It went on for a very long time, and even when the sparks began to calm a little, he kept kissing her, creating more heat to take their place.

“
God, I need—” she tried to say, but then he stood up, unbuttoning his pants.

“
I know what you need,” he said, fumbling with the zipper. He pulled a condom out of somewhere and she watched him roll it onto his cock, still not completely sure what was happening.

“
Ready?” he asked, hands steadying himself.

Isabelle looked down, still aching, still needing more.
“Yeah,” she croaked. “Please.”

He stepped in, thighs hitting the dresser.
“Hang on,” he growled, hands going beneath her hips.

“
Hang on to what?” she asked as the tip of his cock nudged her folds.

“
To me,” he said and plunged inside.

Chapter Six

Marvin groaned, completely and totally lost.
I was lost the moment she let me kiss her,
he thought, cock buried balls-deep inside her sweet body. He shuddered, fighting to hold still and not overwhelm her with his strength and desperation. The two of them shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be making love in her ridiculously girly bedroom, but he couldn’t stop himself. He lived on the other side of the continent from her. He’d vowed never to get involved again with a woman. Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even taken off his clothes! And none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except getting himself as close to her as humanely possible. She was smart and honest and so damn sweet he couldn’t get enough.

“
Marvin,” she breathed, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders.

He grunted, tucking his face against her shoulder.
“Don’t move, Belle. Don’t move or it’s all over.”

She kissed his cheek.
“I’ve got you,” she murmured, as though that made any damn difference.

He sucked in a sharp breath and let his hips begin to move. She was so hot, he felt like his dick was plunging into
an inferno. She moaned, fingers digging into him, and he moved faster, thrusting so that the dresser shook. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, realizing that he couldn’t stop.

“
Don’t be,” she said, shoving his shirt down.

He let her pull it off of him, but didn
’t stop fucking. He needed her so badly—her warmth. Her acceptance. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him that suddenly he was thinking things like
trust
and
mine
, but he was in too far to stop now.

She used her feet to shove at his pants and he managed to step out of them, thankful he
’d already taken off his shoes. When he was naked, he slid his hands back under her magnificent ass and lifted. She squeaked, but he kissed the sound away. His cock was on fire and she ground down on him so that he almost lost his balance. He took one step away from the dresser, two, then they were at the bed. He pulled out and dropped her down on her back, eyes going to the wet-pink-softness between her legs.

She pulled her thighs back, exposing herself even more, and he groaned and fell on her.

“Belle, Belle, darling, you’re killing me,” he said, slipping into her again.

“
The feeling is mutual,” she managed to say between thrusts.

He shoved a hand down between them and found her clit, swollen and hot like a flame. She cried out, hips convulsing beneath him, and
her climax fluttered around his cock. That was it for him. He groaned, harsh and loud as his body lost itself in her. Pleasure moved through him in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling before. It was like she was his perfect match, his soul-mate, and the thought scared him to death even as he surrendered to the physical release. His cock pulsed once, twice, and then he lost track of everything as spunk filled the condom. He had a moment’s regret over that barrier, but then she sighed and he let himself collapse, carefully holding the bulk of his weight from her so she could breathe.

They lay there for a long time like that. When he felt her skin finally grow cool, he pulled out gently and took off the condom. He tied off the end and she gestured to the bathroom sleepily. He threw it out and grabbed a washcloth from the shelf over the sink, wetting it and coming back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed and began to clean between her legs, careful not to scrape anything sensitive. He washed her thighs, too, then wiped himself more carelessly as she watched, eyes dark in the low light.

“
Stay?” she asked after he’d draped the cloth over the tub. She’d scooted under the sheet, rose-colored fabric draped suggestively over her curves.

He stopped, considering.

She saw his hesitation and sighed. “It’s okay. I know you’re flying back to L.A. tomorrow. I’m not asking for anything.” Her voice was sure and steady.

That almost undid him. He nodded shortly and slid under the covers with her, gathering her close until he could slide an arm over her waist.
“I’m sorry.” He tucked his face into her nape. God, she smelled good.

She elbowed him gently.
“Shut up. Do you want me to start apologizing to you?”

He cringed inside.
“No,” he said, wanting to head that possibility off immediately.

She sighed again.
“I know we didn’t plan this. And I’m not sorry, so you’re just going to have to deal. I know you’re not looking for anything more than this night and that’s fine,” she said, making him feel like a total jerk. What kind of man makes love to an amazing woman like her and then takes off?
A loser, that’s who
, an irritating voice in his head said. He squashed it, thinking of all the reasons he had for not plunging into a relationship.
Good
reasons.

Isabelle rolled over, face earnest.
“If anything, I should be thanking you.”

That got his attention.
“Are you kidding me?” He found himself cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing gently over her lips.

She smiled.
“No, I’m not kidding. I’m serious. After Preston, well—” She broke off.

He frowned.
“I wish I’d punched him harder.”

She laughed, mouth moving under his touch.
“I don’t. I do
not
want to deal with the fallout from that. We were lucky you got away with breaking his nose.”

Knowing she was right,
Marvin opened his mouth to apologize again, but she cut him off. “Good night, Mr. Rockstar. Sweet dreams.” She closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest, seemingly happy to end the conversation.

He sighed and smoothed a hand down her hair.
“Goodnight, sweet Belle.”

****

Sunday morning, Isabelle woke up alone to a crumpled bed that smelled of Marvin. She instinctively knew he’d gone. Her apartment had that curiously empty feeling it had held ever since she’d moved in. Even when she’d been dating Preston, her apartment had felt like this.

It
’s fine,
she told herself, rolling over and stretching. She winced. Muscles she wasn’t used to using protested.
You knew he was going to leave.
She stretched some more, deliberately working through the pain. When she finally stood up, she had herself under control.

She spent the day cleaning up her apartment: putting clothes away, doing laundry, erasing every last bit of Marvin, not that there was much to do on that front. He’d left her the one shirt he’d given her to sleep in and nothing else. No phone number.
And it’s not like I can just look him up,
she mused, staring down at the t-shirt. The long-haired rocker from the graphic on front didn’t look like the Marvin she knew.
Celebrities like him guard their privacy more than anything, for good reason.

She imagined having to deal with paparazzi and crazy fans all the time along with no privacy and shuddered.
Her inner introvert couldn’t imagine anything more horrible. Marvin had even had to cut his hair so that people wouldn’t recognize him! Isabelle didn’t like people staring at her. Watching her every move. The thought of trying to make nice all the time—ugh. She would find it seriously difficult to handle the kind of scrutiny Marvin lived with every day. She didn’t know how he managed it while remaining such a nice person. She’d go bat-shit crazy.
It’s just as well I can’t call him.

She deliberately ignored the fact that she could phone her brother anytime and get Marvin
’s information. That way lay madness. She went back to cleaning her apartment, telling herself that everything happened for a reason.

“Okay, time to spill your guts, girl,” Fiona said, sucking on her milkshake. It was three weeks after the wedding. Fiona had gone on her honeymoon and come back again, radiantly happy. Isabelle ignored the twinge of envy in her gut. She was happy for her best friend. And she didn’t miss Preston, that was for certain.

“
What do you mean?” she asked Fiona, stirring her own milkshake. She knew exactly what her friend wanted to know, but she wasn’t so sure she was ready to tell her.

“
What happened with Mr. Rockstar Hottie? I saw the way he looked at you.” Fiona grinned. “I can’t believe you never danced with him.”

Isabelle made a disgusted sound.
“I was too busy running around organizing your perfect day.”

Fiona smiled.
“And I appreciate it. A lot. So, spill.”

“
There’s nothing to spill.”

Fiona sat back, eyebrows lifted.
“I heard he decked Preston.”

Damn. She’d been hoping Fiona wouldn’t find out about that.
Isabelle grimaced. “Yeah.” She
really
didn’t feel like talking about it.

“I heard he broke Preston’s nose.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle said, not elaborating.

Fiona
’s amusement faded as Isabelle continued to dodge her questions. “Why did you and Preston break up?”

“
It doesn’t matter,” Isabelle deliberately sucked a huge mouthful of milkshake into her mouth.

“
Oh please. I let this go long enough, mostly because I was busy with the wedding.” Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me, what happened with Preston?”

Isabelle shrugged.
“We grew apart.”

Fiona snorted, then frowned thoughtfully.
“Wait a second. You’re really upset about this.”

Isabelle looked away. She wasn
’t. Not really. At least, not over Preston.

“
That bastard.” Fiona’s voice was cutting. “I knew there was something weird about him, but Todd promised him way back in high school that he’d be best man.”

Isabelle fiddled with her drink.
“I don’t know what you mean.” The tiny café seemed to get smaller as she watched her best friend work out the entire sordid mess without any information. Dammit. Fiona knew her too well.

“
That asshole cheated on you, didn’t he?” Fiona finally said, shoving her milkshake away in disgust. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, correctly reading the answer on Isabelle’s face.

“
What was there to say?”

“
Oh, like, ‘Fiona, Preston is a lying, cheating, douche, please don’t have him in your wedding?’”

“
Yeah, right,” Isabelle said sourly. “And I could tell Todd really wanted him to be best man. I didn’t want to screw that up for him.”

“
Jesus, Isabelle.” Fiona looked angry now. “What kind of friend do you think I am?”

Isabelle sighed.
“It was no big deal.”

“
Are you for real? He cheated on you, probably with that stupid blonde, Tonya, and you just, what? Dealt with it in silence? So I could have my fairytale wedding?” Fiona voice was getting louder.

Isabelle
’s face went hot with a mixture of frustration and shame. “It was really no big deal. Really.”

Fiona opened her mouth
and then closed it again, crossing her arms over her chest.

Isabelle picked
at her napkin. She could sort of understand why Fiona would be upset.

After a moment, Fiona spoke.
“This isn’t about me at all, is it?”

Isabelle hunched her shoulders. This is what happened when your best friend knew too much about you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Fiona tapped her finger on the table.
“Preston cheated on you and you think that’s some sort of cosmic sign that you’re not good enough to date.”

Isabelle flinched.
“He’s not the first guy that cheated on me.” Her eyes pricked as she glanced away.

“
You better not be thinking about that jerk in high school who dumped you for the prom queen.” Fiona’s tone was disgusted.

Isabelle shrugged. She couldn
’t speak right now if her life depended on it. Her throat felt like someone had shoved a wad of wet toilet paper in it.

“
He was a kid. So were we. He doesn’t count.” Fiona’s face went grim. “And neither does Preston. He’s been an asshole for years, but I put up with it because Todd thought he was amusing.”

“
I chased him and Tonya out of my kitchen with an iron skillet,” Isabelle choked out.

Fiona
’s eyes widened and then she was laughing. “Are you kidding me?”

Isabelle smiled
through her misery. “Nope. I caught them going at it on my kitchen table.”

“
Oh my God, I would’ve loved to see that!” Fiona said.

“
Uh, no you wouldn’t. They were buck-naked. You should have heard Preston squeal,” Isabelle added.

Fiona
laughed harder. “I bet he did. I heard he squealed when Mr. Rockstar punched him, too.”