You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (25 page)

She could see he recognized the truth of her words, and so she continued. “She’s working her way in. And each time she breaks down one more barrier, it gets easier to touch her, lean against her, laugh together. Pretty soon you’ve got private jokes and secret smiles. And then that day when we’ve had a big fight and too much time has divided us, it’s that much easier to turn to her for
all
your needs. She’s dangerous, and if you don’t recognize that, then we have a serious problem.”

“If I hadn’t met you, then, yes, everything you’re saying would be true. But I have you. I know what
us
feels like. There’s no turning back. I want this. I want us.”

A cab rolled into the lot. The moment the doors opened, her brother, Ben, Cooper, and Pete spilled out. They strode toward them, a pack of badass rockers, laughing, nudging each other.

“Slater, dude,” Pete called. “Let’s go.” The cab took off behind them.

“Emmie?” her brother called. He jogged over. With a big smile, he pulled her into his arms. “Emmie.”

“Derek.” She didn’t want her brother to see her like this.

He set her down, his smile fading as he took in her expression. “Are you okay?” He narrowed his gaze, looking between her and Slater. Then his eyes widened. “So help me God, if you fucking hurt my sister.” He came at Slater with both hands thumping his chest so hard Slater stumbled back. “I knew shit was going down with you two.”

Slater shoved her brother back, hard. “No. You’re wrong.”

Emmie put her hand on her brother’s tensed arm. “He’s not. Derek, he’s not.”

“Then why the face?”

“She walked in on me and Piper writing together.”

Derek drew in a rough breath. “Yeah, that’s a pretty bad idea, bro.” Then, he shook his head as though troubled. “But they’re writing some really good shit.”

Emmie tried to smile. She felt just like she did the first day after the flu, weak, jittery, but no longer ready to die. “So I hear.”

“You got in early,” her brother said.

“I caught an earlier flight. I tried to reach both of you, but you don’t have your phones on.”

Slater reached for her hand, just as Derek elbowed him. “We’ve got an early sound check ’cause there are so many bands playing tonight. Come on. Let’s go.”

“In a minute,” Slater said.

Derek gave her a questioning look, and she appreciated that he was there for her. But he couldn’t help, so she nodded, letting him go.

He took off, leaving Emmie and Slater in uncomfortable silence. Honestly, she didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to leave, get out before he completely destroyed her. She could see the writing on the wall. It was only a matter of time.

She could fill all of Slater’s needs but one. His art. And that was the most intimate part of him.

And, dammit all to hell, but Piper could fill
all
of them.

He cupped her face in his hands. “Stop. Turn off all those terrible thoughts. They’re wrong. I love you, Emmie. I swear I wouldn’t torture you this way if I didn’t. I’m not like your pussy ex. If I had feelings for Piper or anyone, I would tell you. I wouldn’t put both of us through this fucking hell. You have to believe that.”

“I do.” She grasped his wrists, pulled his hands away from her face. “But what I walked in on?”

“Won’t happen again.”

She hadn’t expected him to concede so easily, so quickly. Not when writing with someone meant so much to him. She didn’t understand.

He smiled. “Em, if I showed up at the house for a surprise visit and found you on the couch
snuggling
with your pussy ex, I’d beat him to a pulp. Do you hear me?” She nodded. “I would pull his balls out his ears.” He reached for her hips. “I wouldn’t be half as reasonable as you are right now.” He drew her to him.

“I don’t know what to be.”

“But you believe me?”

“Believe what? That you’re not going to sleep with her? No, I guess I don’t. Because you’re allowing her in. And you know where that leads. You’re enjoying her company, Slater. Don’t deny that.”

“I didn’t. I told you I like writing with her. It’s a
relief
.”

Right then she saw him. The lonely man. Even though he filled his home and life with four roommates and hundreds of hangers-on, he was still alone all the time. He ate alone, he wrote alone, and he slept alone. Banging random women had to be the worst kind of loneliness.

He dug his hands into his pockets, looking scared. “I won’t write with her anymore. She may not have boundaries, but I do.” He blew out a breath. “I know what she’s trying to do.”

Unease prodded at her, twisting in her gut. “I’m not comfortable holding you back. You like the songs you write with her. That’s important. It’s important for your career.” Of course, it would end their relationship. No way would she sit that one out.

“I don’t need her to write songs. I just enjoyed the break from being inside my own head. She’s the wrong person to find that outlet with.”

“I just—”

“There’s no discussion. If it were you and Alex . . .”

“I get it. Balls through ears.”

He smiled, his face lighting up. She could almost see the fears and worries tumbling off him. “Can I kiss you now? Please?” His mouth lowered to hers.

She shook her head, even while she got up on her toes, straining to meet him, to close the distance. “No. I don’t want you to kiss me.”

“Okay. I won’t.” And then his lips touched hers, so gentle and warm and sweet. But sweet quickly turned hot as he licked into her mouth, pulled her closer, his hands sliding down to her ass and cupping her. He moaned. “Fuck me.” Then he deepened the kiss, turning her limbs to liquid heat.

Her blood boiled, her nerves sparked and flashed, and she lost herself in the incredible heat of his mouth, the gruff motion of his hands on her back, her ass. His hips rocked into her, pressing his hard length against her stomach.

“No fucking in the parking lot, Slater,” Pete shouted.

Emmie turned to find the guys getting off the bus.

“God, what will people think of us?” Ben said.

“Sound check, asshole, let’s go,” Cooper said.

Slater pulled away slowly, pressing soft but frantic kisses over her lips. “My Emmie,” he moaned into her ear as he clutched her one more time. “I miss you so fucking much.” His hands slid down her arms, weaving his fingers through hers. “Come on. Watch me turn into a rock star.”

He’d said he loved her. No, he
fucking
loved her. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the look in his eyes when he’d told her. Part of her wanted to think he’d pulled out the big words to gloss over the situation she’d found him in, but she knew better. She
knew
.

But was it enough? The odds were against them to begin with, but with Piper so damned determined . . . And distance, as she well knew, did
not
make the heart grow fonder for a guy on the road. The image of the two of them leaning into each other so comfortably tore through her. God, she had to shake it off. She either let it go or she let
him
go.

Emmie stood at the side of the stage, watching. In addition to the usual two songs Snatch did for sound check, they also tried out the new one, making sure they got the harmonies down. Listening to the lyrics and hearing his voice move with the emotion of the song made Emmie’s stomach flutter. It was a great song. He sang it with such passion.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t hold him back. She whipped out her phone, texted him.

The song is amazing. You should write with her.

No matter what it cost her peace of mind, she couldn’t hold him back. What was that expression? She texted again.

If you love something, set it free.

She hated that she’d fallen for another musician. Hated how much time she spent alone in the house wondering what he was doing—well,
great
, now she had an image to call up whenever she started wondering. Terrific.

But Slater wasn’t just another musician. He was . . . God, he was unbelievable. And their connection? It was too powerful, too special for her to walk away.

So she had no choice but to hang in there. She was crazy about him.

Finished with sound check, the guys headed toward catering. She expected to find the typical spread of subs, sodas, and boxes of grocery store cookies. Typical for smaller venues like this one.

Instead, she found aluminum serving trays of lasagna, garlic bread, and fresh green salad. Homemade brownies heaped on paper plates. She raised her brows at Slater, who just shook his head. “Nice spread,” she said.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and Emmie got a whiff of Piper’s perfume. “I like to make sure my boys get some good food when we’re on the road.”

“So I’ve heard.” Emmie watched the guys fill their plates high and then settle into the chairs and couches around the room.

“I try to call ahead, find a place near the venue.” Edging between her and Slater, Piper rubbed his belly. “Like to give them the feel of home, you know?”

Slater jerked back, holding Piper’s gaze in a silent communication that looked too familiar.

Sickeningly familiar. Obviously, he’d had to tell her to knock it off before. Or—God, had he warned her not to do it around Emmie?

Reaching for Emmie’s hand, Slater tugged her toward him, forcing her to knock Piper aside.

“Excuse me,” Emmie said, quietly.

But Piper smiled serenely. Nothing rattled her. She was in total command.

She clapped her hands. “Eat up, boys.” And then she perched on the arm of Derek’s chair, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

His flash of confusion let Emmie know Piper had never been that familiar with him before. Emmie was being played. And she didn’t like it one damn bit.

She stepped away from Slater, stared at the side of his head, watched him spoon lasagna onto his paper plate. For a moment, he concentrated on the food, but then he finally exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “Don’t.”

She took the word like a body blow. He was angry with
her
? Didn’t want
her
to make a scene? Enough of this crap. Maintaining a relationship with a rocker on tour didn’t work, period. Add a determined bitch to the mix, and Emmie was
asking
for drama.

Screw it. She’d had enough of this bitch’s games.

One step was all she took before Slater slapped his hand around her wrist and towed her to a corner of the room. “Don’t let her do this to us. This is what she wants. She wants to drive you away. I see her, Emmie. I see exactly what she’s doing.”

“Then stop her.”

Oh, God, the look in his eyes. She could see the strain, the frustration.

“Emmie, I’m trying to keep her happy. At the same time I’m trying to hold on to you. Can you see how difficult this might be? If I piss her off, I risk the tour, risk the band getting signed. If I don’t handle everything just right, I blow up it all up. Can you see that?” She’d never seen him so tense.

Of course he saw through the scheming bitch. He wasn’t stupid. “Yes, I can. Of course. I’m just—”

“You’re not anything. I don’t blame you. I’d react the same way.”

She had a decision to make. Give up her boyfriend, her brother, her band—just walk away for some perceived peace of mind. Or ignore the bitch.

It wasn’t even a question. No more of this wavering. She’d make a decision and stick with it.

She got up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Okay. I won’t let her do this to us.”

Leading him to a table, she let him settle in as she went back to spoon some lasagna and salad onto a paper plate for herself. Then, she sat beside him and let it all go. She had a limited time with Slater and the guys, and she didn’t want to mar it with anger and jealousy.

Slater loved her. She had to trust in the gift he’d given her. And make no mistake, it was a gift. One he’d never bestowed upon anyone before.

Interestingly, it didn’t take long for the guys to make their way over to her table, drawing up chairs, snatching bread off Slater’s plate. And the six of them were all laughing and enjoying each other.

It couldn’t have been more perfect. Slater gripped her thigh, giving it a squeeze, then kissed her mouth. He was finally relaxed.

She had a natural rapport with them. Piper hustled them. Clearly, they felt the difference.

And then it was show time. And—surprise, surprise—Piper stayed with Snatch. Normally, the headliners didn’t hang out with the opening act. Why would they? They had hours before their show. But she, of course, stayed close to Slater.

Before heading backstage, each band member took a black Sharpie and wrote something on the hallway walls. Except Slater. He just kept walking, holding on to her hand.

At the side of the stage, as the guys jumped up and down, did vocal exercises, loosened up, Slater pulled her aside, tucking them inside a thick velvet theater curtain. He ran his hands down her arms, pulling her palms to his mouth and kissing them.

“Are you still upset?”

She wouldn’t lie to him. “Yes.” Gazing up at him, she cupped his gorgeous face in her hands. “But don’t worry about it now. Get out there.”

“I can’t stand the way I hurt you.”

“I know.”

“No, you really don’t. You’re not in my head. You don’t know how I feel. I probably chose the wrong time to tell you, but I mean it, Em. I love you. It’s only you for me. And what you saw? It just fucked up everything—all the trust I’ve worked so hard to build.”

“It was a really good time to tell me.” But she couldn’t say it back. She just couldn’t do it.

“Emmie, what you saw? I want to delete it from your brain.”

“You can’t. Just go.” She pushed him, but he didn’t budge. She knew that look in his eye, though.

“Please don’t be angry with me. We only have a few hours together.” He pushed her hair away from her ear and whispered, “I need you.”

She could feel his desperation in the hands that gripped her arms, through his intense and imploring gaze. He had this way about him. Or maybe it was
them
, their chemistry, their connection. But he always broke through. “It’s okay.” She pressed her mouth to his cheek. “We’re okay. You can go.”

His mouth found hers, kissed her greedily. Grabbing her hand, he rubbed it over his erection. “Fuck. What you do to me.”

“Jonny. You can’t go out there like that.” She smiled against his mouth.

“I know. Fuck, Emmie.” He fumbled with his jeans, opened the top button.

“Jonny.” Her tone sounded like a protest, but her hand reached in and closed over him, so hot, so hard, and she couldn’t help but squeeze, feel him shudder and thrust up into her hand.

“I need you. Now.” He bent his knees, cupped her ass, and lifted her off the floor.

Her hands scraped through his hair. Of course she should stop him. Of course they couldn’t make love right there. The curtain was thick—it was huge—but would it hide them? She could barely think as his fingers pushed her panties aside, stroked into her, and the burn of desire whisked through her, spreading everywhere so fast the soles of her feet tingled. Her hands clutched the back of his neck, and she moaned in his ear at the rush of sensation.

“Jesus, Em, you’re so fucking hot.” He pushed into her. She could barely make out the announcer’s words over the screams of the crowd. Thousands of people waited just on the other side of the wall, his bandmates waited for him, and neither of them could tear themselves away from each other.

He pulled nearly all the way out and then rammed into her again and again, harder and harder, until she lost herself completely as the heat tore across her skin, the searing sensation curling, twisting, tightening between her legs.

He gripped her ass hard, spreading her legs, forcing her to cross her ankles behind his back to hold on. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

“Ah. Fuck. Oh, Jesus. Yes, Emmie, oh, fucking yes.” He dragged his mouth to her ear. “I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”

He pounded into her, sweat dampening his back, his muscles bunched tightly underneath his T-shirt. She needed him so much, couldn’t get close enough to him no matter how hard she ground into him, how tightly she clenched her inner muscles to feel him deeper, harder inside her.

He grunted in her ear and then slammed into her, crying out with his ferocious release. He pumped in and out a few more times, and then his shoulders fell forward and he eased her to her feet.

Tipping her chin up, he pressed hard, quick kisses to her mouth. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry. Just. . . .”

They heard the riffing of drums, the guitars, a synthesizer. “Go.”

He let out a big breath, swiped the perspiration from his brow, and gave her a breathtaking smile. “Be right back.”

*   *   *

After the show the band’s energy was higher than she’d ever seen it. Slater came right for her, caught her up in his arms. “What did you think?”

She dug her hands into his sweaty hair and brought his mouth to hers. After kissing him long and hard, she said, “You guys get better and better. It’s amazing. You were great before, but you’re seriously stars now.”

“Listen, I have to do press. Will you wait for me in the greenroom?”

“Sure.”

“But just . . . wait in the greenroom, okay?”

“Of course.” She wondered why he seemed so worried. Did he still think she’d grab her luggage and go?

He took off, and she wandered around backstage looking for the greenroom. She found her way back to catering, where a group of guys huddled together, talking quietly. Given their costumes and styled hair, she figured they were Piper’s guys.

And then Cooper and Pete came in—not even noticing her, which was weird. The other guys looked up, and then all of them disappeared into an adjoining room, leaving the door ajar.

Curious, Emmie headed over, listening to their hushed voices. They seemed frantic, serious. She peered in, stunned to find her guys bent over a table snorting lines.

Drugs?
Since when did the guys do drugs?

Two seconds later the door to catering flung open. “Show time,” a guy called. “Let’s go.”

Piper’s band dashed out. Emmie wanted to say something to her friends, but not just then. Besides, it wasn’t her place. She’d definitely talk to Derek, though. Nothing killed careers quicker than drugs. She’d seen it so many times before.

She wanted to leave before they came out, so she headed back out into the dim hallway, looking for the greenroom. She could hear the crowd roar for Piper Lee, who was just taking the stage. She really hoped Slater didn’t expect her to hang around and watch the show. Not gonna happen.

She came upon a door with a piece of paper taped to it.
Artist
. Probably the greenroom. She turned the handle, expecting to find a bunch of hangers-on, people who cared less about the show and more about hanging around backstage with artists.

Instead she saw . . . bodies, humping, thrusting, arching. It took a moment to process, but—oh, God—it was Ben, his pants around his ankles, having sex with two women. Both were topless. One serviced him on her knees, one hand gripping his bottom and the other fisting his erection. He had his mouth on the other girl’s breast and his hand between her legs, stroking furiously.

Heart pounding, Emmie quickly shut the door. Drugs, sex . . . God, they were living the life, weren’t they? Exactly what they’d dreamed. It almost disgusted her that she’d helped them get to this point.

What did it mean for Slater? Was this, ultimately, who he was, too?

She had to get out, so she made her way to the end of the corridor and pushed out the double doors. The cold night air washed over her. The low, thick cloud cover made it hard to breathe. She practically ran to the bus, knocking on the door.

It opened right away, and she thanked the driver in a rush as she climbed the steps and sat down on one of the couches.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Oh, I just . . .” What could she say? He’d spent thirty years on the road with rock stars. Maybe he liked the lifestyle, too. Tears burned, and she said the only thing she knew was true. “I’m not sure this is the life for me.”

He laughed. “It takes a certain personality.”

“I don’t have it. I don’t understand it.” She’d said too much. She didn’t know him well enough.

“Well, your guy’s different. I’ve seen it all, I tell you, over the years. Yours is one of the good ones.”

She didn’t answer, pretty sure she looked as uncertain as she felt.

“Most of the artists ignore me. Sure, some’re polite. But it’s the rare guy that sits in the passenger seat and takes the time to get to know me. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not complaining. It’s no one’s job to talk to an old man. But the ones that do? They’re special. They’re different.” He patted his heart. “Yours is a keeper.”