Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) (23 page)

Miles chuckles. "Forgot what the fuck that bet was for. Or what the hell I bet." He winks at Pete. "You know I'd never bet against you."

"I know. Sexiest guys goes me, you, Drew, Tom." Pete laughs.

"Put your brother last? That's cold." Miles shakes his head. "And he can't still be last now that he has that piercing."

Pete cocks a brow.

"I've asked Tom if the two of them ever shared. He says no," Miles.

"I can hear you." Drew shakes his head. "I wouldn't even think about having a threesome with Tom." He rubs his forehead. "God damn. Thanks for those mental images. You do realize he's about to marry my sister?"

Miles shrugs, feigning innocence. "If you had to pick somebody?"

"You and Meg looking?" Drew asks.

"No." Miles smiles. "Just entertaining myself. Like you said."

"One of you three?" Drew asks.

Miles nods.

"To join me and Kara or in a parallel universe before that?" Drew asks.

"Before," Miles says. "You wouldn't share Kara in a million years."

Drew nods. "Pete. No question."

Pete laughs. "Told you." He locks eyes with Miles and motions to Drew. "He need a cool down before this?"

Drew's eyes stay on his phone. "No, I'm fine."

"Kara work out all your energy this morning?" Miles asks.

Drew doesn't bat an eye. He just nods.

I smooth my sundress. The air conditioning is on full blast. Even with all the thoughts of Pete naked and groaning in my head, I'm cold.

I push myself off the couch and join Pete leaning against the wall. He slides his arm around my waist, pulls my body into his, presses his lips to my forehead. Is it for show or because he wants to hold me? His friends are still teasing each other. They aren't even looking at us.

My eyelids flutter closed. I allow myself a few moments to soak in the comfort of his body. I'm not sure what it means, but I love having his arms around me.

God, Pete smells so good. Like soap and shampoo and like him. I'm tempted to drag him to an empty office and have my way with him.

"Hello, Miles. Mr. Denton, Mr. Steele." Aiden steps into the room.

Instantly, I'm cold. Even his voice is slimy.

Pete pulls me closer. He holds me so tightly I can barely breathe. Or maybe that's how disgusting Aiden is.

"That's a nice dress, Ms. James. Do you need me to turn the air conditioning down?"

His eyes go to my chest. I look down. Sure enough, the high beams are on.

Aiden is looking at my nipples. Gross.

"No, I'm fine."

His eyes lock with mine. They're threatening.

Miles jumps in. He motions
I've got this
to Pete. "How's Bruce? Still fucking his assistant?"

"No. His assistant moved to another label."

"That's a shame. Rehab take this time?" Miles asks.

"How many tries did it take you? I forget." Aiden glares. "Where is Tom?"

Everybody tenses.

Pete presses his lips against my forehead. He leans in to whisper in my ear. "Give me a minute."

I nod.

He shifts off the wall. His eyes meet Aiden's with a threatening glare. "Let's speak privately."

"No need. I understand. It won't be a problem." Aiden shrinks back. "Main conference room. Ten minutes. The executives have notes on the new single."

Damn. Even rock stars have to deal with obnoxious bosses. Nobody gets a break.

Miles clears his throat. He's quick to change the subject. "You coming over after this, Jess?"

"Am I invited?" I ask.

He throws Pete a
work on your game
look. "I insist. Your boy is the only guy in the band who can play the piano. We're writing a new song together."

"Really?" I nearly squeal. I'm being invited to sit and listen to Pete play the piano. I might die of happiness.

Pete shakes off a frown.

Or not.

"You should go home, finish your schoolwork." Pete's eyes meet mine. "School
comes
first."

"I'll finish here."

"Jess—"

"I appreciate your concern for my studying, but I've got it under control."

There's displeasure all over Pete's face, but I don't know why. Does it really mean that much to him, keeping me out of his jam session?

I take my bag from him and sling it around my shoulders. Still, Miles and Drew are looking at us. The room is silent. Must be they're concerned.

I pull Pete into a deep kiss. For show, I guess. His lips are soft. He tastes good. But there's all this resistance in his body. Even as he plays up the gesture.

My stomach twists. What happened to our sweet morning together? He's pushing me away again.

I take a step backwards with my best smile. I still don't know him, don't know anything about him. "I'll be at the coffee shop down the street if you need me."

But something tells me he won't.

––––––––

T
he inside of the mansion is just as beautiful. The ground level has an open floor plan. The kitchen, dining table, and glass door are on one side. The glass door that leads to the balcony lets in soft, white light. The other side of the room is dimmer, yellow and fluorescent. It houses two couches, a TV, a coffee table, and a piano.

Miles and Pete are sitting on the piano's bench. They're lost in their own world. They don't notice me come in.

I pour a glass of water. They seem busy. I hate to interrupt, but I'm starving.

"Do you mind if I raid your fridge?" I yell to the other side of the room.

"Help yourself to anything," Miles calls back. His voice echoes around the room.

I stay busy fixing a snack. There's plenty of food in the fridge. Actually, there's a ridiculous variety of food in the fridge. Everything from fresh pasta to Thai curry paste to vegetables I barely recognize. A water chestnut, maybe?

"Are you guys hungry?" I call back. "I can make something."

There's murmuring on their side of the room. Finally, Miles replies.

"Make enough for four. Meg is studying upstairs." His voice softens. "Thanks, Jess. Nice to have someone who can cook around. My girl is hopeless at it, and she's never gonna learn if I keep making her breakfast and dinner."

"Does she live with you?" It's strange yelling the conversation across the cavernous room, but it's nice focusing on something besides my thoughts.

"Some of the time. She's going to med school in Irvine. It's about an hour and a half south without traffic. With traffic, could take three or four hours. She stays with her parents during the week."

"You miss her?"

"Mhmm." He chuckles. "Course she'd never get anything done if she lived here all week. She looks damn cute when she's studying. Can't resist distracting her."

"Pete's the same way with me." Sort of.

Miles tsk tsks. "Can't get in the way of an ambitious woman. Thought you had better game than that, Steele. Her career's gonna come first."

I can't quite make out Pete's reply. But it must be something clever, because Miles's chuckle fills the room.

"No wonder I don't let you write any songs," Miles says. "It'd be pure filth." He sings. "
Baby you always come first, dripping on my face as I plunge my tongue into your cunt
."

My cheeks flush. Did Pete actually say that?

Uhhh. Need to focus on anything else. "Do you have any dietary restrictions?"

They whisper something else and chuckle. Finally, someone calls out a no. I scan the fridge for my options. The thing is full of exotic ingredients—gangal, snapper, scallops. How the hell do you cook a scallop? I'm determined to find out.

I settle in the kitchen and browse recipes on my phone.

Miles and Pete shift back into working. By the time I've decided on a spicy stir fry dish, they're playing around with piano riffs. It sounds like they're having fun. Every few minutes, one of them bursts into laughter.

It's strange—the sad piano ballad mixed with their infectious laughter—but it's fitting. Like my mood the last few weeks.

The food cooks quickly. Everyone breaks to eat. Even Meg comes down from her room. I let her and Miles lead the conversation. They joke about little things—
Star Wars
, Tom's face when he's pissed, a neighbor with a ridiculous yellow SUV.

They don't press me or Pete for details about our relationship. They aren't the snooping type. That, or our lie is more seamless than I think it is.

After lunch, I set up shop on the couch with my required reading. The guys go back to work.

This time, I'm close enough to listen.

I know how to use my hands

my mouth, my hips

I know every single place that

you want my lips

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

I know how to lock you out

no screams, no lies

the anguished frown as I convince

you not to try

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

I know how to make you leave

can't let you stay

but do I believe myself when I beg you

to run away?

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

Miles sings them with that gorgeous tortured voice of his. He never phones it in. Not even on the tenth or twentieth reading of a line. Every word flows from his lips with a wealth of passion.

After an hour, I give up on my work and listen to them piece together the song. Pete plays a few bars of piano. Miles sings. They go back and forth for a while then put it together.

"That's the chorus. That's it," Miles says.

"No. More like—" Pete sings.

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

My heart rises up in my throat. Pete's not nearly as good a singer as Miles is, but there's a certain rawness to it. His feelings pour in through my ears and fill me everywhere.

The words are in my soul.

His voice is in my soul.

He's hurt. I replay the words again.

baby, I know this hurts

but it could hurt worse

fallin' head over heels

baby, that's a curse

Finally, I have some insight into his heart. It's not enough. I need more.

I turn around, peeking my head over the back of the couch, and I watch them play.

Miles takes his turn singing the chorus. He embellishes the pitch, sells the ache in the words, but it's not the same.

"Will you sing it again?" I ask.

Pete's eyes meet mine. "Thought you were studying."

Miles swats him. "Damn. It's like you don't want to get laid."

"Don't need your help with that."

Miles shakes his head. "Your girl wants to hear you sing. You know what happens after you sing?"

"Something about how she'll be convinced I'm great with my mouth." Pete makes eye contact and raises a brow. "Do I need to convince you of that, Jess?"

"Yes. Convince me." I press my fingers into the soft leather couch.

"Not gonna do it by singing." Pete smiles.

"Singing first," I say.

"You've got no game, Steele," Miles says. "I expect better."

"Don't need game." He cocks a brow. "If I ask, Jess will slide her panties to her feet right now."

"With me here?" Miles asks.

Pete nods. "I'd put a hundred bucks on it."

"Make it worth my while. Make it a thousand."

"You guys know I can hear you," I say.

"What do you say, baby?" Pete locks eyes with me. "Want to split the winnings?"

Baby. He called me baby. My heart thuds against my chest. My body refuses to contemplate whether or not this is pretend.

This isn't fair. If he's going to tease me, I'm going to tease back.

I smile back at him. "Why stop with panties? I'll take off everything. Except my glasses. You did want me to keep them on next time."

His pupils dilate. There. He's under my thumb.

Miles cocks a brow.

Pete nods a yes.

I nod back. "If you sing me the song. Please."

"Sexual blackmail. That's low, Jess. I expected better." Miles winks then nudges Pete. "Should I stay in the middle of this flirtation or you want to put the poor girl out of her misery?"

"She knows what she's doing. She enjoys the misery." Pete turns back to the piano.

Despite his protests, Pete plays what they have of the song. He sings the whole time. When he's finished, I'm equal parts turned on and torn up. It's just like his tattoo—the pain is clear but it's damn beautiful.

Miles pushes himself off the bench. "Give me fifteen minutes." He throws me a stern look. "Keep your clothes on. Keep your leverage."

He makes his way up the stairs.

Pete holds my gaze. "Was that for my benefit or his?"

"Mine." I smooth my skirt. I can do confidence too. "Unless you have a problem."

"No, I want your gorgeous pink lips wrapped around my cock." He stares back at me. "I want you aching from how badly you want to be filled as I come in your mouth."

My sex clenches. I've already lost all the power. I'm quickly losing interest in keeping it. I'm quickly losing interest in anything except our bodies connecting.

He copies my tone. "Unless you have a problem."

"No. No problem."

"You're going to come on my hand, baby. You're going to come hard enough you forget your name."

My heart pangs. It pulls me away from the ache in my core. "You called me baby again."

He cocks a brow.

"We're alone."
We don't lie when we're alone
. I adjust my glasses and rack my brain for some way to explain it. "Don't call me that unless you mean it."

He pushes himself off the bench and makes his way to the couch.

Then he's next to me. He pulls me into his lap, so I'm straddling him.

His hand slides under my skirt.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Feeling how wet you are." He presses his palm against my sex, over my panties. "You want me to stop?"