Rock Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #3) (17 page)

His fingers brush against my clit. I'm so keyed up that the light touch is enough to send sparks to my core. My lips part with a sigh. My fingers dig into his skin.

His touch stays slow. All the need that has been plaguing me collects between my legs. Tom. God, Tom.

Little by little, he strokes me harder. Until I'm panting. Until there's so much pleasure inside me I'm not sure I'll ever be able to breathe properly again. I squeeze his hip as an orgasm rises up inside me. I press my cheek against his, soaking in all the warmth of his face, his body, his hands.

There. Pleasure spills through me as I come. I gasp and moan. Incomprehensible things that barely resemble words. It feels damn good. Much better than my hand. Much better than with Bradley.

Tom wraps his arms around me and pulls my body into his. No words. But I can feel his heart beat, hear every inhale, every exhale. All that tension is gone. I'm calm.

For once, I really believe everything is going to be okay.

M
orning hits me like a ton of bricks. It's bright but it's damn cold. I don't need to feel the other side of the bed to know that Tom is gone.

My heart sinks.

If he's gone... Then what the hell did last night mean?

There's no way I'm going to clear my head here. After my usual morning routine, I find the hotel pool and swim laps for the better part of an hour. My thoughts settle bit by bit. I have to demand an explanation from Tom. It will gut me to walk away from him, but I can't give myself to him if he's going to pull that just friends line again.

I towel dry and make my way through the lobby.

Clarity, gone. Tom is here. He's wearing a loose muscle tank and running shorts, and he's dripping with sweat. Explanations are silly. What matters is how badly my body needs his.

"Hey, kid. Good workout?" He looks away, shy.

Tom Steele is shy. With me. That must mean something.

There are footsteps behind us. Drew.

"Why aren't you wearing pants, Wil?" He asks.

Drew's expression is overprotective. He's also clad in work out gear. Must have been at the hotel gym with Tom. Maybe they had a standing work out date. Maybe there's a completely reasonable explanation for why I woke up alone. One besides Tom realizing he made a mistake.

The elevator doors slide open.

I step inside. "Pants would add a lot of drag in the pool."

"She's got you there," Tom says.

Drew shoots him a menacing look. Then he's back to me. "Where'd you go last night?"

"Dinner and a movie. Wanted some time to myself. I'm not used to the constant company." That's close enough to the truth.

Drew looks from me to Tom and back again. "Let's get brunch. Just the two of us."

"Rude of you not to include your sister," Tom teases.

Drew flips him off. He turns to me. "I'll give you twenty minutes to get ready."

The elevator arrives at my floor. I step into the hallway. "Sure. See you then." My eyes catch Tom's. Immediately, my cheeks are burning. I turn away so Drew won't get ideas, and I lock myself in my room.

***

D
rew and I talk movies over pancakes at a cozy restaurant on the other side of town. He still has the same taste—science fiction and super heroes—but Kara has expanded his horizons into classics and independent films.

We linger through coffee refill after coffee refill. I'm practically shaking from the caffeine overdose when Drew finally asks for the check.

The waitress drops it off with a much too flirty smile. He's completely oblivious to her attention, already pulling bills from his wallet.

I try to steal the little black book. "Let me get it. Please. I got my first paycheck from Hazel."

"No way." He throws down a generous tip, closes the book, and helps me out of my seat. "I need your help."

"With?"

Drew checks the time on his cell. "You have an hour or two?"

I nod. The only thing on my agenda is the show tonight and I have to be there after he does.

His cheeks flush. He's nervous. It must be about Kara. Drew plays his cards pretty close to the vest. Except when it's about her. It's written all over his face, how much he loves her. I want to have that one day. With someone who deserves me.

Whatever this is, I want to help. And I'm infinitely grateful for the distraction.

We walk for a few blocks. The air is warm today. Sunny and bright. There are no signs of last night's rain.

Drew breaks the silence. "You've been hanging out with Tom."

Oh, no. Please don't let this be an ambush. My brother and I are actually getting along for once. Like we're allies and not enemies in the
you should make up with Mom—no way, she's a bitch
battle.

Drew stops at a streetlight and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm glad you're here. Are you?"

"Yeah. Hazel is amazing. And it's nice to see you. To hang out doing little things. TV and breakfast and whatever. I've been keeping to myself the last few years. I've been lonely." The moment the words are out of my mouth, I know they're true. I've been lonely the last few years. Being around people who care about me is nice. Really nice.

"Yeah." Drew smiles. "The guys can be idiots, but they're sweet deep down. Everyone seems to like you."

Warmth spreads through my stomach. I actually have friends. Or I'm starting to.

The walk sign turns on and we make our way across the street. Drew moves in a little closer. Drops his voice.

"Tom seems to like you."

I'm not sure where this is going, but I'm not optimistic. I clear my throat. "Does he?"

"He's a good guy deep down. If you can get past him being with a different girl every night. Only... Wil, I want you to be happy. I want you to have love in your life. Makes me sick thinking that asshole was the last guy you were with."

It's almost as if he's saying I have his blessing to go after Tom. Almost but not quite.

Drew looks me in the eyes. "He tries to help but it tends to be on his terms. He means well but, given your history, I'm not sure it's the best idea."

I stare back at Drew. "Don't be coy. You're getting at something."

"He's controlling."

I bite my lip. Tom is pushy, yeah, but is he really controlling? It's hard to say. I don't have a great concept of what is or isn't normal. I nod a thank you to Drew. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Do you have a thing for him?"

"We're just friends."

"Not what I asked."

"He's..." I take a deep breath. "He's a really appealing guy in a lot of ways."

"I can talk to him."

"And say what?"

"He's a player, Wil. I'm not saying there's no chance he'll ever have something real, but I don't want him playing you." Drew's hands curl into fists. "If he is playing you, I'll never fucking forgive him."

"Will you hurt him?"

"I'm trying not to go there." Drew looks me in the eyes. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No. That's okay. I want to focus on my career right now. And not on guys." It's true. It's also true that I don't quite trust Drew to have the calm, even conversation he's alluding to.

I really do want to focus on my career. Working under Hazel is the kind of opportunity that doesn't come along every day.

I look back to Drew to see if he's buying my explanation but he's staring at something else. A jewelry store.

A smile spreads over his lips. "I know you're not into fashion but you have a good eye for this kinda thing." He lets out a wistful sigh. "I got Kara's ring size from Meg."

My jaw drops. He must be talking about an engagement ring. "You're going to propose?"

He nods. "After her graduation party. With skywriting. I know it's cheesy—"

"Cheesy is good."

We step into the store. It's dead quiet, empty except for the shiny displays. Everything here is gorgeous. What would Kara want? She always looks perfect. Her hair, makeup, nails, clothes always fit the occasion. She'll want something classic. Elegant. But with a little flair too.

I let my eyes lead me. The halo rings are too trendy. Not an angular shape. Something rounder.

There. A cushion cut solitaire draws my attention. Perfect.

Drew is right behind me. His eyes sparkle as much as the gems do.

"You think she'll like it?" he asks.

"We can look around more."

His eyes go to the ring. "No. It's perfect." He waits for the sales woman to approach us then smiles at her. "I want the biggest one you have."

***

A
knock on the door rouses me from my daytime TV and pancake induced nap.

"Yeah?" I ask the knocker.

"Hey." Tom taps his fingers against the door. "I have something for you. A present."

Tom got me a present? Something tells me it's not a written explanation of his intentions, but I'm intrigued all the same.

I open the door and invite him in. He looks especially yummy in his stage getup. Tight jeans. Tight t-shirt. Messy hair falling in every direction. There's a thin wisp of liner around his green eyes. It does things to me. Makes my knees desperate to buckle.

He sets a bright pink gift bag on the bed.

"I, uh..." He looks me in the eyes. "Pete and I are flying to Los Angeles after the show tonight. We have to take care of some family stuff. We're meeting the band in Minneapolis next week. But I didn't want to leave without getting you this."

I raise an eyebrow. "Should I open it now?"

Right on cue, his pants buzz. His phone is in his front pocket. Very, very close to his—

"Eyes are up here, kid." Tom pulls his phone from his pocket. "I'm late for the sound check. You'd think those assholes could start by themselves for once, given how much time Drew spends tuning his already tuned guitar." He ignores the call and looks me in the eyes. "Open it tonight. Or tomorrow. But not without me."

"You're leaving tonight."

"I'm pretty sure you noticed that buzzing in my pants."

I clear my throat.

"Call me. Want to hear your voice when you see it." His eyes flare with mischief. "You'll like it. I promise."

***

A
fter the show and a solid hour editing with Hazel, I'm dead tired. I drag my heels to the bus and collapse in the private room. Technically, it's Tom's turn, but he offered it to me.

I text him a thank you and get to unpacking my suitcase.

The room is clean and bare except for the overflowing dresser drawer. The amount of clothing in it is disturbing, considering that the band uniform appears to be v-neck, dark wash skinny jeans, and sneakers. It's hard to criticize when they always look damn good.

Not that I'm only thinking about one of them in particular.

Not that I'm remembering how he looks without the v-neck, sneakers, and skinny jeans.

My purse hums with Justin Timberlake singing
SexyBack
.

Incoming call from Tom Steele, Irresistible.

I answer the phone. "Hello."

"Hey, kid. You miss me yet?" His voice is light.

I tease back. "It's all I think about. I ran out of ink doodling your name in my notebook. You think I should get my 'Tom Steele' tattoo as a tramp stamp or at the top of my bikini line."

"Depends how much you like doggy style."

My cheeks flush. I try to think about something besides Tom throwing me on the bed and fucking me from behind.

I fail miserably.

"Bet I can guess where your mind went." He chuckles. "We're boarding in fifteen. This is your last chance to open the present without Pete overhearing everything."

"What if I want him overhearing?"

"Don't tell me Hazel convinced you that bassists are where it's at. She's already torn my heart in half."

"I wouldn't step on her turf. Sisters before misters."

Tom's laugh flows through the speakers, filling the room with warmth. It's like he's here. Almost. If he was here, I'm not sure I'd be able to resist touching him.

"It's up to you," he says. "I understand delayed gratification a little too well at the moment."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Don't embarrass easily."

My cheeks flush. Any normal person would find this question horribly inappropriate, but Tom is not at all normal. "Do you have wet dreams?"

"Tsk. Tsk." His voice drips with mock offense. "I ever ask you if you have sex dreams?"

"Something tells me you will." I find the wrapped gift bag in my suitcase, take a seat on the bed, and place it in my lap. "Do you?"

"Yeah."

"About anyone in particular?"

His voice softens. "I'm not sure I should answer that."

I bite my lip. This might lead to him saying
sorry, that was a mistake
but it's a risk I have to take. "Why did you get me off last night?"

He's quiet for a minute. "I wanted to make you feel good."

"Tom. That's barely an answer."

"I'll explain after you open the present."

This better be good. "I'll put you on speaker." I set my phone on the bed and reach into the gift bag slowly.

It's a vibrator.

A hot pink vibrator.

For a solid thirty seconds, I'm speechless. "You're going to have to explain this to me."

"You haven't had sex in six years."

"I'm aware."

"Do you have any sex toys?"

"No." I reach for my phone. I need to hang up this call so I can think straight. This isn't hot and cold. This is Death Valley and Antarctica. This is absolute zero and melting gold.

"I'm sure you're very capable with your hands, but six years is a long fucking time to not feel any desire. Any pleasure." There's no irony in his voice. He's totally earnest. "You deserve better than that. You deserve to feel so good you could die."

"And you're the one who should get me there?"

He's quiet for a minute. "The point of the toy isn't something to do together on long drives. It's so you can take your time figuring out what you like."

My muscles relax. "Why, Tom? Why did you touch me?"

"You wanted me to."

"That's it?"

"No. I wanted to."

I pull my knees into my chest. "What about my feelings?"