Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) (2 page)

Nathan never made me feel like that.

Mostly, I was worried if I was doing it right, if I was good enough for him.

But Pete...

I bet he could make me forget about everything besides his hands, his mouth, his cock.

My cheeks flush. I might as well work off some of this energy.

I'm hot but it's not from the temperature.

It's the thought of him.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but I usually have to try so hard to concentrate if I want to come. But thinking of him is seamless. I'm already halfway to an orgasm.

My eyelids press together as I slide my hand between my legs. I think of him, here, in the bed with me. I think of his strong hands trailing over my breasts, his soft lips on my neck, his hips rocking against mine as he pulls our bodies together, as he buries himself deep inside me.

***

T
he air conditioning pours over me as I step inside the coffee shop. A sigh escapes my lips. That feeling is heaven.

There he is, sitting in the corner, his long bangs hanging in front of his piercing brown eyes. Even in dark wash jeans and a light t-shirt, Pete is magnetic enough he glows.

But he's not alone.

There's a couple with him—a young woman with a cool, edgy pink ombre bob and a man with dark blond hair. He looks familiar.

Oh, shit, that's Tom Steele, the Sinful Serenade drummer.

For a second, I forget that Madison and I are not on speaking terms and I imagine her turning bright red and squealing as I explain that I not only met Tom and Pete Steele but actually had coffee with them.

Actually made myself the next notch on Pete's bedpost.

Then I remember and my stomach twists. My lunch threatens to make a reappearance.

I'm not sure what hurts more—that the only person in the world I trust betrayed me or that we're still not on speaking terms.

My shoulders tense. I miss her as much as I hate her.

"Hey." His voice cuts through the quiet room.

The deep, steady timbre makes my knees weak.

I nod my own hey and make my way to his table.

The woman with pink hair smiles at me. "Hi, I'm Willow." She offers her hand to shake. "We didn't mean to crash your... date. We just moved and um, we were picking up some stuff at Pete's place and he mentioned he was meeting someone here. It's not like we're spying. I swear. Just this place has the best mocha. Do you like chocolate?"

"Yes but not with coffee." I smile. She's obviously spying, but it seems like she has good intentions. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah. You too. It's nice to finally see Pete with someone... so um. Your dress is pretty. ModCloth?"

I nod.

The light haired guy laughs. "She means to say that it's nice seeing Pete with someone who isn't trashy."

"Tom! That's not it. And who the hell are you to talk?" She stammers. "Just... it's a really nice dress."

"Yeah, Aiden will be glad you're finally with a nice girl. He might shut up for a solid ten seconds." Tom scowls.

Pete cringes at the mention at this Aiden person. He clears his throat and points to Tom. "I'm sure you recognize Tom, my brother. He's known for his inability to mind his own business."

Tom mimes being stabbed in the gut. Willow laughs. Her gaze flits between her massive engagement ring and Tom. He stares at her with the same affection then his mischievous green eyes fix on me.

I know that look. It's the way I used to look at the guys who were interested in Madison. He's protective. Must be the older brother.

Though, come to think of it, the two of them look nothing alike.

Tom turns to Pete. "Did you get bored of casual sex or are you two meeting for an afternoon quickie?"

Pete looks at me. He raises a brow:
play along?

I nod. I can deflect attention from nosy family members. I have a lot of practice.

"I have work tonight. I don't have much time with Pete, so we should really get going." I smile at Tom. "It's nice to meet you."

Willow takes the hint. "Yes. Enjoy your date. We were just leaving." She turns to Tom and whispers something in his ear.

He laughs and turns back to me. "Don't know what time you get off work, Jess, but I'll put you on the list for our show tonight. It's a soundtrack release party. Very exclusive. You should come." He laughs. "Well, I'm sure you'll
come
. But after that. If you want anything to do with Pete after he gets you off."

Willow shoots him a
don't start
look.

Tom slides his arm around her then makes eye contact with his brother. "Shit, this is fun. No wonder you assholes teased me so much about my whorish ways."

Willow rises to her tip toes to whisper in Tom's ear. Only it's not quite a whisper. "How about you get
me
off before my meeting?"

His eyes go wide. "Fuck yes." He smacks her ass playfully then pushes her to the door.

She giggles and throws me a goodbye wave. "Have fun."

The room quiets as the door shuts. The energy shifts. The playful, adorable couple is gone. It's just me and Pete and all the intensity in his stare.

"I'll put your name on the list," he says. "The club's a quick walk from your bar."

"I really do have work."

"We don't go on until ten." He motions to the menu. "What do you want?"

I wipe the sweat from my brow. "Something cold."

"Specifically?"

"Iced latte. Extra ice."

I need something freezing cold if I want any hope of spending the afternoon with him without melting into a pool of desire.

***

The optical shop is just down the street.

Only it's closed. It's closed on Tuesdays.

Without a word of explanation, Pete pulls out his cell phone and taps a text message. He nods
I've got this
.

A moment later, there's a friendly sales associate unlocking the door. She smiles at Pete and shakes his hand eagerly.

"Mr. Steele, it's so nice to see you again. This must be your
friend
." She turns to me. "Jess, right?"

I nod. "Nice to meet you."

She doesn't introduce herself. "Let me know if you need any help. I'll be in the back finishing some bookkeeping." She blushes as her eyes meet Pete's, but she says nothing about it. "You can grab me once you've made your selection and I'll measure your prescription."

She disappears into the back room.

"You have the power to open closed retail stores?" I ask.

"I don't like to cause a scene when I shop," he says.

"So..."

"So I called ahead, promised I'd promote the place on social media."

"You do this every time you go shopping?"

"Only on occasion."

"You're a private guy for someone who fucks people in bar bathrooms."

His lips curl into a cocky smile. He's proud of himself. For the public sex or for getting that girl to scream at the top of her lungs? Hard to say. And contemplating the subject further will do nothing to cool me down.

I try to focus on the massive selection of glasses. There must be a thousand pairs in every shape and every color of the rainbow. I try a dozen, sorting them into noes and maybes.

Pete stays a few feet behind me, giving me space to browse.

My eyes catch his in the mirror. "What happened to that woman from yesterday?"

"She left when we were done."

"Do you—" I switch to a pair of rectangular frames. "Do that a lot."

He cocks a brow. "Depends on what you mean by
that.
"

"Have one-night stands?"

"Last few months, yeah."

Usually, I avoid getting into other people's business. But I want to know more about him. "Can I ask you something personal?"

His voice is light, teasing. "If you look me in the eyes instead of looking at the mirror."

I turn and take a step towards him, so I'm close enough I can see all the details of his face. "It didn't seem like you were enjoying yourself."

"That's not a question."

"Were you enjoying yourself?"

He shrugs. "It was fine."

Just fine? That girl was screaming like she was having the best lay of her life.

My eyes catch his. I'd never, in a million years, ask anyone else this question, but I feel like I can talk to him. It's dangerous.

Again, I try to convince myself to pull back. It doesn't work. This tiny hint of intimacy feels good. I want more of it.

I stare back into his dark eyes. "Why didn't you enjoy it?"

"Wasn't good sex." Pete moves closer. His fingers brush my wrist. "There's sex where you're there, in the moment, all your attention on your partner, on the pleasure spreading over her face as she groans your name and rakes her nails across your back."

My knees go weak.

"Then there's sex where you show up, close your eyes, and stay in your head, focused on the idea of somebody." He leans in to whisper. "That woman wanted to fuck Pete Steele, famous bassist. She didn't give a shit about the actual guy, what I liked, what I wanted."

I swallow hard.

"I don't blame her. I knew what I was getting into. I made sure she came. But it wasn't good sex."

Holy fuck, can sex really be that good? I'm hot everywhere. I open my mouth to respond but my tongue refuses to move.

Okay. Glasses. Need to pick out glasses before I melt. I move to the next wall and try another twenty pairs. This time, I find three maybes.

"I do see your point." His voice softens. "I saw Miles and Tom fuck their way through fans and I swore to myself I'd never do that."

"Miles?"

"Our singer. But you already knew that."

My cheeks flush. Guilty as charged. Okay. Pete isn't bullshitting me. I won't bullshit him.

Somehow.

It must be possible to have an honest conversation that isn't couched in white lies that properly deflect attention.

"My sister has a crush on you," I say. I try to shrug off the tension forming in my shoulders but it doesn't work. It still hurts. "She talks about Sinful Serenade all the time. She has a dozen pictures of you on her wall."

"Anything good?"

"Good how?"

He cocks a brow and tugs his t-shirt an inch up his stomach. It's quick, a flash, but I can make out the v-lines just above his skinny jeans. Mmm.

"No. You're very modest. In photographs."

"Only in photographs?"

"I've known you for about twelve hours."

His stare is a playful challenge.

"You've mostly talked about what a good lay you are." My cheeks flush but I maintain most of my confidence. "I'm not saying you aren't, but—"

"You'd like to find out." It's a statement, not a question.

"Are you offering?"

He stares back at me. "I might."

My stomach flip-flops. It shouldn't upset me this much, him not offering to sleep with me. "What's stopping you?"

"Haven't decided if you're interested in me or my fame."

"What if I'm interested in your body and the other two don't matter to me?"

"That's cold, Jess, writing off my personality like that." He smiles but there's a hint of sadness in his eyes.

It's almost like he believes that I am writing off his personality, that I couldn't possibly be interested in anything besides his body or his fame.

He blinks and it's gone. Then he's close enough that I can't think anything.

His whisper sends goosebumps down my spine. "There's no question. We both know you're interested in my body."

Okay, that's as much confidence as I can muster for the afternoon. I bring my stacks of maybes to the counter in the center of the room and narrow it down to three pairs of glasses.

I try the pastel pink pair. It's pretty, sweet, feminine.

"Those are perfect," he says.

"My ex would always tell me not to wear girly stuff. That I needed to grow up."

"He sounds like an asshole."

"That's easy to say now that he's my ex. But I was with him a long time."

I was sure I loved him. That he loved me. He
was
an asshole, but he was charming too. Funny. He always could convince me he knew best, that he was looking out for me rather than trying to get his way.

Things were okay. Until I got into law school at USC. He asked me to choose—him or school. But he didn't even wait for me to answer him. Just started sleeping with my sister.

How could I have been so wrong about him?

My chest heaves as I exhale. I want to share this insight with Pete. It's not like me. Usually, I keep my feelings under lock and key.

It's safer that way.

I try to change the subject. "He was charming but he was a snob. Made fun of me for reading young adult. He couldn't stand that I had a poster of Katniss Everdeen in my room."

"Jess, I expect better from you. That's inexcusable. What kind of asshole doesn't love Katniss?"

I laugh. "You read YA?"

"I read everything." He cocks a brow. "Even the dirty stuff."

Another laugh escapes my lips. That flutter in my belly builds. I like him. Not because he's famous. Not because he's hot.

There's something about him, this steadiness to his voice, this confidence in his expression. I feel like I can be myself with him. It's dangerous, how much I want to reveal myself to him.

His eyes stay glued to mine. "You should read whatever you like. With all due respect, I've only known you twelve hours and I can tell you need to let your hair down."

"Should I come to your work and fuck a guy in the bathroom there?"

"Sure. But you're not going to shock anyone. I've heard every guy in the band and most of the people in the crew have sex."

"You wouldn't send a peon to break it up?"

"No, I'd listen. Nothing I like better than listening to a beautiful woman come."

My cheeks flush. He'd listen to me... That mental image returns—him pressing me against the bathroom wall, one hand digging into my hair, the other between my thighs.

Pete shakes his head. "Jess, if you're going to think about me naked, you could at least have the decency to describe the scenario to me."

Uh. I stammer something incomprehensible.