So I Married a Rockstar (16 page)

Then we're moving easily down Divisadero Street and I can somehow breathe again. The City whizzes by and I slowly relax. I trust him completely.
 

"This is amazing," I shout at the back of his wet head. He bobs it in agreement and pushes us faster. Thank goodness for wind visors or I'd have a face full of saltwater splatters.
 

Most people who visit the Bay Area are surprised to discover just how cold it can get here. Mark Twain is credited with saying, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco," and it's holding true tonight. The air is already chilly, but factor in a headwind of forty miles an hour and it makes for a very cold ride. Especially when you're underdressed and the front half of you is soaked. If I'm shivering, how cold must Drax be?
 

The ride takes about twenty minutes, and by the end, I'm a frozen Popsicle, but still, I'm exhilarated. Drax jams down the kickstand and I jump off, tearing the helmet from my head.
 

"Wow, that was fantastic! I've always been scared of motorcycles, but you make it look so easy."

I know I'm grinning like an idiot but I can't help it. Not only is Drax no longer giving me the cold shoulder, but he gave me a ride on his bike, an honor I'm certain most ladies don't get.
 

They don't get to marry him either,
a little voice whispers but I shush it.

I'm so excited, jumping around like a happy puppy, that I don't notice it at first. Only when Drax turns his head toward me do I see his entire body shaking like it's about to come apart. His teeth are chattering so hard he can barely speak.

"Shit! You're getting hypothermia from those wet clothes. I'll call an ambulance."

"No," he grunts, clumsily dismounting. "Inside."

He leans into me and I support his weight as well as I can as we slowly shuffle to Raines Records. It's probably stupid to not call 9-1-1 right away but he
is
moving pretty well. Maybe just warming him up will do the trick. All sorts of ideas skitter through my head as to the best way to get the job done...

The commotion of me opening up the store and helping Drax navigate the aisles brings my dads downstairs. Dad is carrying a baseball bat and Papi is holding an icepick sharp stiletto, size thirteen.

"
Dio mio,
" he screeches when he sees us, rushing over to wrap his arms around Drax. "
Chulo,
you so cold!"

It doesn't escape my attention that Papi's hands are holding tight on Drax's narrow hips, not helping in any way, of course. He flinches at my scowl and moves them up, which relieves me of some of the load.
 

"What the hell happened, Lauren?" Dad has a bad back so he's following along helplessly. I can't help but admire tonight's T-shirt from Madonna's 'Who's That Girl' tour. It's ancient -- from 1987, or so the shirt says -- but in near-perfect condition.

"Long story. Right now we need to get him upstairs and out of these clothes."

"Ooh, I'll help!" Papi offers. Yeah, big surprise.

Drax seems to be gaining back some strength because he manages a soft chuckle. "I think I can manage myself."

"Awww..."
 

"Stop pouting, Luis," Dad scolds, "and go get some water heating for tea. Draymond needs to warm up."

By the time we reach my room, Drax doesn't need my help, though he's still moving pretty slow. Still, my anxiety ratchets down about twenty notches. Maybe we don't need the EMTs after all. Dad brings him one of his robes and we leave him to change.

"I thought you two were splitsville," he whispers as we head toward the tiny kitchen.

"We are."

"Then why did he risk hypothermia to bring you home? That's not something an ex does. That's something a
not
-ex does."

My heart flips in my chest but I don't let on that his words mean something to me. And it pisses me off that they do. I'd already decided to end things, yet here I am acting like a lovesick idiot. What's wrong with me?!

"He right, you know," Papi says over his shoulder as he prepares the tea. "Dat boy still got it for you. Why you so red, Lola-
mami
? Maybe you still hot for him, too? Hmm?"

I slap Papi's hands away when he tries to tickle me. "Stop that, he'll hear you."

"Goot!" he says even louder, chasing me around the room. "Let him! Maybe he realize you da whole enchilada. Dat he should marry you
pronto
."

"Actually, I already did."
 

I freeze in my tracks. Drax is leaning against the doorframe, making Dad's ratty old robe look positively erotic and watching our silly scene. Oh, and blabbing about our drunken Vegas adventure.

"Excuse me?" Dad says as he hands Drax some Sleepytime.

"Nothing!" I interrupt, turning Drax around and pushing him toward my room before he can take the mug. "He's making a joke. Ha ha, good one, Draymond."

Papi's attention is laser-focused on Drax's backside, but I can see in Dad's eyes that he knows something is up. Luckily, he's not as nosy as Papi, so I may have a chance get away from this whole thing without them ever finding out.

I slam the door shut and whirl on Drax.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Why does he always smirk when I'm annoyed with him? Why?!

"Problem?"

"Yes, there's a problem. I didn't tell my dads about...
that
. I didn't tell anybody, and I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same."

The smile falls away and fire blazes in his eyes. "I'll do whatever the fuck I please, darlin', and right now, I want to do this."

With the speed of a panther, he's got my hands pinned above my head against the door and his body is pressed against mine. I react viscerally when his lips crush mine, wrapping a leg around him and thrusting into him. I'm enveloped by a heady mix of his scent and seawater. I could breathe it in all day. It stirs something feral inside me, something wild that I'm afraid to set free.

But something else sneaks in there, another scent I know but my foggy brain won't allow me to recognize. It's especially hard to concentrate now that he's nibbling my ear, exactly in the spot that drives me into a frenzy.

I suck in another deep breath and the mystery smell takes shape in my brain. Whatever it is, I'll forever associate it with this incredibly exciting moment. At first it's fuzzy, like smoke drifting upward, but then it swirls and compresses into the form of a person. Drax flicks my earlobe with his tongue and I grind even harder into him. I've devolved into an animal, grunting my need, but still the vision in my brain continues to gel together until I can see a face.
 

It's Dad.

Ew!

"Ew! Ew! Ew!" I stutter, slithering out of Drax's hold.
 

Am I going to vomit? Choking back a retch, I run to the other side of the bed. Granted, it's about two steps from where he's standing but I can't risk him touching me while he's wearing Dad's robe

"What the hell..."
 

The poor guy's completely perplexed. There I am on the dock trying to give him mouth-to-mouth, pressing my boobs against his back the whole ride here, letting him ravage me against my bedroom door, and now this?

"I'm sorry," I plead, "but that robe...it smells like..."

"What?"

"My dad!"

Comprehension dawns on his face and he barks out a series of laughs that chase away the disgust in my belly and replace it with joy. He's got the best laugh. It's a down-to-your-toes kind of guffaw that would make Oscar the Grouch smile.

"Well," he says, still chuckling, "I guess there's only one thing to do."

And just like that, Draymond Maxwell is standing in my childhood room stark naked, a puddle of faded blue terrycloth at his feet. Everything about him is hard.
 

Every.
 

Single.
 

Thing.
 

Yeah, that works.

We lunge at each other and land together on the bed, hands and mouths everywhere. It's been weeks since he last touched me but it feels like years. I know we only made love the one time -- if you don't count what he did to me on the way to Vegas, and good lord, how can you not? -- but I miss it. I miss
him
.

I scrabble at my damp top, ripping it over my head and flinging it and my bra across the room. I don't have time for niceties -- I need him to touch every part of me,
right now
. And he does. As big as his hands are, they're no match for my girls, but where his hands leave off, his lips take their place. And I'm in heaven.

The sharply defined muscles in his arms and back are mesmerizing. I can't seem to stop running my fingers along the ridges and valleys, sighing when they flex and quiver under my touch. Another part of him quivers against my thigh, reminding me that my snug jeans have got to go.
 

Reaching down to unzip them, my fingers graze along his length. I swear, I didn't intend to, but his guttural moan encourages me to change tacks and grasp him fully. He rests his head on my chest, panting, and pushes deeper into my hand. As it turns out, I need to use both hands, which is just fine by me.

He sets up a rhythm, then claims my mouth with his. It's not a gentle kiss but there's more to it than the animalistic passion of just a moment ago. So much more. Without missing a stroke, he pulls his head back, brushes a stray curl from my face and gazes into my soul.
 

Tears spring into my eyes unbidden. Emotion bubbles up inside me and I want to let it out by taking him inside me. I can't stand one more second of not being fully connected to him.
 

Though I'm loathe to do it, I release him, and wriggle my butt out of my jeans and panties in one fluid motion. He rolls onto his side and languidly strokes himself as he watches my every movement. His eyes never leave me. God, I'm about to explode with need!

I lay back, ready for him to take me, but he decides to torment me a bit first. One hand holds my hands lightly above my head while the other explores my curves. First stop, Nipple Central, where he circles each with his index finger before adding his thumb to roll and pinch it. I arch and gasp and silently beg him to never stop what he's doing.

He eventually does, though, slicking down my tummy and alongside one rounded hip. Stroking up between my thighs, he grazes my mound but doesn't stop. Instead, he skims my other thigh, his powerful fingers tucking under my knee and pulling it aside, leaving me fully exposed.
 

Slowly, so damn slowly, he inches upward toward the final destination, all the while holding my gaze with those ice-blue eyes of his. He knows I'm powerless to look away, and why would I ever want to?
 

He leans in and brushes his lips against mine at the moment his fingers make contact. I sigh and arch into him, up top and down below. I want him, I need him. His touch does things to me I never thought possible.

Our tongues dance and mingle as his fingers play me like I'm his instrument. My core is already as taut as a guitar string. It won't take much more plucking for me to reach a crescendo.

He can sense I'm close and drags his hand away. I moan in protest and arch again, to no avail. How can he do this to me? Bring me so close only to deny me. My entire body is tingling, almost vibrating.

He pulls away and searches my face. Whatever he's looking for, I'll give it to him. All he has to do is ask.

"Lola," he murmurs, his voice like warm velvet across my skin.
 

"Hmm?" I sigh, drinking him in.
 

"What happens next?" He tucks a curl behind my ear. Why is that so hot? I dunno but I almost climax from the simple act.

I smile devilishly. "Oh, Mr. Maxwell, I know for a fact that you know exactly what happens next. You fuck me like a demon."

An eyebrow shoots up at my filthy language, and even I'm surprised by it. What can I say, he brings out the naughty in me.

"No, I mean
after
after. Tomorrow morning. Where do we stand?"

I blink in confusion. What's he talking about? I can't think past the next few seconds, and he wants to talk about tomorrow?
 

"Huh?"

His features darken a shade. "You were pretty clear back in Vegas that you didn't want to be in a relationship with me. Does
this
--" he waves a hand between our naked and almost-touching bodies "--mean you've changed your mind?"

Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. I can't deny that I pretty much haven't stopped thinking about him for the last couple weeks, and seeing him tonight got me more than a little hot and bothered. So when he slammed me up against my door like a rutting animal, my brain checked out and instinct took over. Of course, now my head is running in circles trying to figure it all out.
 

Nothing's changed. He's still a wild musician whose lifestyle is just too crazy for me. Even if I did want a relationship with him, it could never work out. Once they find a real manager, he'll be traveling so much we'd never see each other. Factor in all the groupies offering all kinds of favors, and I wouldn't stand a chance.
 

Neither would my heart. Because even right now, after a short tryst that happened weeks ago, it's about to break open all over the place.
 

"I..." It's all I need to say. He can read it on my face.

Any vulnerability that remained in his gaze winked out like a dying flame. "I see. Then I think I'd better leave."

I want to argue. I want to beg him to stay, to make love to me all night as a final goodbye, but I know the answer will be no. And he's right, as much as I hate to admit it. Sex will only confuse our already confusing situation.

 
"I'll ask your Dad to borrow some clothes," he says as he shrugs back into the robe. I'm not sure Dad will have anything that would fit him, but I don't argue. I couldn't even if I wanted to. All the air has been sucked out of my lungs.

Drax turns back to me before opening the door and walking out of my room, and possibly my life. He stares at me for a long moment, and I swear he's going to say something profound, something to make me change my mind. I almost want him to. Then again, it's almost a relief when he does speak, because the simplicity of his words say it all.