Rock Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #3) (27 page)

Not tomorrow.

Not until after he knows whether or not his mom is going to be okay.

It's an excuse, I know, but it feels right.

Tom cups my cheek. "You hungry?"

"Yeah." Now that I think about it, I'm starving.

He leads me to the pool's steps and helps me out. "Let's order something. You want Indian or Thai?"

"Let's cook."

"Not sure we have much actual food. Mostly it's snacks. There hasn't been much cooking since Miles and Drew moved out."

"They used to live here?"

"Yeah." Tom leads me into the kitchen. He nods to the ceiling above the fridge. "Technically, that's still Miles's room." He points to the ceiling on the other side of the room. "And that's still Drew's. Our label rented this place for us way back when. Whoever was in charge of kicking us out forgot to do it."

"You live here rent free?" I ask.

He wraps his arms around me. "Yeah."

"Damn. Rock stars get all the breaks."

"You can stay here. If you decide to move to Los Angeles after the tour."

I look up into his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah... till you find your own place."

Oh. I don't expect him to invite me to move in with him. We've only been in a not even official relationship for a few days.

I break his hug. Damn, where is my dress? I can't have this conversation naked. I excuse myself to the living room, find my suitcase, and change into the first acceptable outfit I can put together—a skirt and a tank top, underwear but no bra.

Tom follows me into the living room. He leans against the wall, utterly comfortable with his lack of clothing, and stares at me.

"What's going on, kid? What are you thinking?"

"You're naked."

"I can see how that would be distracting."

Yes, that's it. I'm distracted. Nothing more. I nod.

"Asking me to put on my clothes for once. That's new." His lips curl into a smile. "But anything for you."

He's teasing. The mood is light. I can't ruin that. It feels good joking with Tom. Everything with Tom feels good.

God, I love him so much. It eclipses everything.

Tom's eyes connect with mine. His gaze is penetrating. Maybe I was wrong about my eyes. Maybe he can see how much I love him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asks.

I nod.

He accepts my answer and makes his way upstairs to dress. I use the time to dig through the kitchen. It's clean and stocked with pots, pans, oils, spices. Aside from a little fruit and several different kinds of dairy and non-dairy milk, there's nothing in the way of fresh food. We'll have to go to the store if we want to cook anything beyond a TV dinner.

Tom's footsteps make their way down the stairs, across the living room.

"Hey." He presses his palms against the kitchen counter. "What do you want to cook?"

"You don't have any food here."

"There's a place at the bottom of the hill. We can get whatever you need."

I need you
. I nod. Okay. "Pasta."

"What kind?"

"With tomatoes. And garlic. Pasta pomodoro." I stare into Tom's eyes. "I need to have it. I need to cook it with you. I need us to have it together."

"Sure."

"No, Tom, I..."
I love you.
"You don't understand. I... I love... I love pasta. I can't live without it. I hate going a single day without it."

He stares back at me. Understanding fills his eyes. "I love pasta, too."

"Yeah?"

His expression softens. "Yeah, but I've never made a point of eating it regularly. Of planning like that. Arranging my life around anything."

"Tom, I..."

He takes my hands and pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. It's there in the way he kisses me. Neither one of us can say the words, but right now, I feel them.

When our kiss breaks, he pulls me into a tight hug, presses his palm against the back of my head, holding me against his chest.

"I've never... made pasta before," he says. "Not sure if I can."

"That's okay. We can learn together."

T
here are eight million kinds of pasta at the natural foods store nearest Tom's place. He teases me about my indecision over noodle types.

"There is a recipe for pasta pomodoro." He holds up his phone to show off said recipe. "We can follow it."

I shake my head. "I cook from the heart."

"Then lead the way, Mistress Chef."

Okay. I can do this. Fresh spaghetti works. We still need basil, garlic, tomatoes.

I lead Tom to the produce section and take my time picking out ingredients. He hangs by the cart, watching me with a wide smile.

This could be our normal. We could live together, go grocery shopping every Tuesday night, sit at the table planning a menu together. It wouldn't have to be fancy. It could be half TV dinners and takeout, but it would be ours.

I get caught up in the fantasy of a life with him as we make our way to the register, to the car, back up to his place.

I'm not exactly an expert chef, but I do my best to take him through the dish step by step. Boil the noodles and set them aside. Coat the heated pan with olive oil, add minced garlic, tomatoes, pasta, basil. Every few minutes, he stops to pull me into a kiss, to whisper something in my ear, to tease me about being bossy.

He makes a salad. Sets the table. It's fucking normal, having dinner with Tom, like a real couple. Like this is forever.

After we finish eating, we cuddle up on the couch. It's his idea to watch
Roman Holiday
. He holds me the entire time, but he keeps his attention on the film.

It's overwhelming how good this feels. I don't snap out of my trance until I'm in the bathroom after the movie, splashing cool water on my face in the hopes of finding clarity.

This can be forever.

This needs to be forever.

***

W
hen I get back to the living room, Tom is gone.

His clothes are not. There's one shoe on the couch. Another in front of the stairs. A sock a few steps above it. I follow his garments all the way up the stairs and down the hallway, to the open door of a bedroom.

Manners first. I knock.

"Yes?" he asks.

"May I come in?"

"Please do."

When I go to push the door open it gets stuck on something. A pair of boxers. Oh. He must be...

He's sitting on his bed naked.

It shouldn't be this remarkable given how many times we've been together but it is. He's magnificent.

He holds up his hand to show off something hot pink.

The vibrator.

"Wasn't that in my suitcase?" I ask.

He nods. "Wanted to use it on you."

I bite my lip. That is a wonderful idea but invading my privacy is unacceptable. "Tom, I—"

"Don't appreciate me looking through your stuff?"

I nod.

"Was thinking with my cock. Won't do it again."

That's it? He's not objecting or calling me ridiculous or insisting it was for my own good. He's just respecting my boundary and moving on.

Somehow, I manage to pull my eyes away from his body to take in the room. It's so Tom. Just flashy enough with a disco ball on the ceiling, a sleek modern armchair in the corner, star decals all over the walls.

"You think that's something. Look at this." He reaches for the side table and presses a button.

The lights turn off except for the one on the disco ball. The star decals glow in the semi-dark. An R&B slow jam plays.

Tom tugs at something tied to the sleek white headboard—bondage restraints.

I almost trip over my feet and I'm standing still.

He smiles. "You okay, kid?"

"You're into bondage?"

"From time to time."

"You tied up or you tying up?"

"Either way. I'm game for almost anything." He pats the spot next to him. "As long as you're into it."

"I don't know about those."

"That's all right. It's not my main thing." He pushes himself off the bed and slides his arms around me.

"What's your main thing?"

"Making you come."

I squeeze him. It's the only way to balance. "Me specifically?"

He nods. "I've never been with somebody I cared about before. It's different. Better."

My cheeks flush. My whole fucking body is on fire. I untangle myself from his arms and plant on the bed. Now I don't have to balance. But these clothes are damn confining.

Tom sits next to me. He pulls me onto his lap so I'm straddling him and pushes the straps of my top off my shoulders. "If you don't want to use the vibrator, tell me. I'll get you something else." He runs his fingertips over my thighs. "My hands are at your disposal at the moment but I'm afraid I can't let you take them home with you."

"No, I do."

"Have you been using it?"

I shake my head. "Just my hands."

He unhooks my bra. "Did you think about me?"

"Yes." A lot. "Have you thought of me?"

"Haven't had too many chances to fuck myself but I thought of you every time." He pulls my top over my head. Pushes my skirt off my hips. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."

"Never? You've been with a lot of women."

"Barely cared enough to learn their names." He lays me flat on my back and slides my panties to my feet. "Never been with anyone more than three nights. Usually bored by the second. It's not as awful as it sounds. Always make sure a woman enjoys herself—"

"You don't have to apologize for your slutty past."

"It doesn't bug you?"

"No. The past doesn't matter unless it's still haunting you."

He brings his body next to mine. His mouth to my ear. "Then why is there a sad look in your eyes?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then I'm not gonna fuck you."

I take a deep breath. I can't explain all of it. Not yet. "I know this might not work out but I'll be crushed if it's because you get bored of me."

"Couldn't." Tom takes the cylindrical vibrator and wraps my hands around the handle.

"How do you know?"

"Some things you just know."

I swallow hard.

He presses his lips against my neck and props himself up beside me. "You should be more concerned about waking up and realizing I'm no good."

I stare back into his eyes. How can he believe that? "Is there any way I can convince you that you're wrong?"

"Come for me."

I laugh. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being manipulated?"

His thumb presses against a button and the device roars on. "You are. Do it anyway."

"If you admit you're a good person."

"A good fuck."

"A good guy."

He looks me in the eyes. "You'd really rather get me to admit I'm a good guy than come?"

I nod.

He runs his fingers over my jaw. "I can see that, through your eyes, I am a good guy. That's all you're getting." He drags his hands over my neck and between my breasts. "Now, I want to watch you enjoy your gift."

"Sounds more like a gift for you."

He pinches my nipple gently.

Lust shoots straight to my core. I sigh with need. "Please."

He groans. "Never stop saying it like that."

This is a nice gift. But it's not what I want. Tom is what I want, and I'm not above using the tools at my disposal. "Please fuck me."

"After."

"Please."

He sucks on my earlobe. "If you're not feeling it, I'll take over."

"Please," I breathe.

He lets out a low groan but stays put on his side, watching over me.

I take a deep breath, unsure how to position myself. I've never been a performer. Certainly never masturbated for someone's viewing pleasure. I press my lids together as my legs splay open. Okay. I'll try the toy.

No teasing. I press the vibrator against my clit. Damn. It's intense. Pleasure shoots through me.

Tom is watching with such rapt attention. It does something to me. I feel it everywhere.

I try to hold his gaze, but between the vibrator and all the need in his eyes, it's too much. My eyelids press together. I reach for Tom. Get the shoulder.

I drag my hand down his muscular arm, all the way to his wrist, and I place his hand over mine. "Please take over."

He groans as he shifts into position behind me. His chest presses against my back. His hard cock presses against the flesh of my ass. Desire shoots through me. I need our bodies joining. I need intimacy with him however I can get it.

Tom holds my body against his with one hand. With the other, he takes the vibrator and runs it over my clit. The motions of the machine are the same but it feels better when it's his hand, when it's us together.

Tension builds between my legs. Not yet. I shift my crotch back to break contact with the device. "Please, Tom. I want you inside me when I come."

"Fuck yes."

In one smooth motion, he lifts my leg and thrusts into me. I'm putty in his hands, only moving when he directs me.

He keeps the vibrator pressed against my clit as he thrusts into me. It's harder and faster than it's been before. He's as desperate as I am.

Sensation overwhelms me. I stay pressed against him, melted around him. The room is disco lights and R&B but mostly it's our breath and our moans and the sweet sound of his body pounding into mine.

An orgasm rises up inside me. "Tom," I groan as I come. My sex pulses around him, pulling him closer.

He doesn't change a thing. He thrusts into me with deep, steady strokes. Again and again. The toy stays pressed against me with the most delightful buzz. Within moments, I'm coming again. My spasms are so intense I forget to breathe. It feels like I'm going to push him out of my body. But he only moves deeper. Closer.

"You feel so fucking good," he groans into my ear.

I gasp. It's the only thing I can do.

"Too much?" He sucks on my neck.

"One more."

He moves faster. Harder. He moves the toy away for a moment. Damn, I need the break. My body is almost spent but I can't give out until I feel his release. Tom. God, Tom. The world feels so right when we're pressed together. So wrong when we're apart.

He brings the toy back to my clit. Waves of bliss shoot through me. I've only got a handful of seconds before I'm coming again.