Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) (30 page)

It would be tacky, having sex at another couple's wedding.

Instead, I pull him onto the dance floor. My dance skills are pitiful, but I have fun moving my body with his. Okay, I admit it. At this point, I'm drunk.

The songs blur together. It feels right, in his arms, part of the family.

It's everything I want.

He's everything I want.

The words jump into my throat. I kiss him so they won't get out. He tastes good, like chocolate and champagne. We go back to dancing. Everyone is happy. But tired.

It's almost midnight when the bride and groom take their exit. Another toast—this time I hold off. They skip their champagne. Instead, they go straight to their limo.

Miles mumbles something about the odds on them making it to the suite before consummating their marriage. No one is willing to bet against them having sex in the limo.

"Mmm. That's giving me ideas." Pete slides his hands to my hips and pulls my body into his.

Thank God. I surrender completely to his kiss. There isn't a single thought in my brain. Only a desperate need to be one with him again.

Okay, it's not just sex motivating me. I want our bodies connected. Want to be sure of exactly what he's thinking and feeling if even for a moment.

We're the first to leave, but that doesn't bother me. The walk to the hotel, through the lobby is a blur. Then we're in the elevator.

I can see us in the mirrored walls. Him in his suit, his hair still perfect. Me in my long lilac dress. I'm breathless watching him sink his lips into my neck, pull my shoulder strap aside so my breast spills out of my dress.

"Fuck, Jess," he groans. "Need to be inside you now."

The elevator door dings. Our floor. I need him inside me now, but I'll wait until we're in the hotel room.

"Only one minute," I say. "You looked amazing."

"You too."

I run my fingers through his hair. "And happy."

"You too."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nods.

There, we're at our door. Pete pulls my body into his. In one smooth motion, he presses me against the door. The weight of his body sinks into mine. He's hard.

"I was. I am. It was beautiful. I can feel it when I look at them." I press my palms against his. "I can feel what love is. Can you?"

He looks at me curiously then shifts his hips to press his hard-on against me. "Can't think much in this state."

Yes. That makes sense. I step aside so he can unlock the door. The key slides into it. The electric lock beeps green. Unlocked. He turns the key, presses the door open.

The words jump into my throat. I try to swallow them down—I want to have him one more time first—but they won't go. Damn alcohol has my inhibitions at zero.

"Pete, I didn't just feel their love. I..." My hands fall to my sides. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

––––––––

T
he door slams into the frame.

Pete takes a step backwards. He stares at me, his brow knit with confusion. That isn't an
I love you too
expression.

He looks like he's been side-swiped.

We stand there staring at each other. It feels like an hour passes. It can't be more than thirty seconds but it feels like an eternity.

My stomach drops. I'm glad I said it, I am, but it doesn't feel good, him staring at me like I slapped him.

When he speaks, his voice is low, unsteady. "I still don't know what that feels like."

"If you loved me, you would know. You would feel it. I feel it every time I look at you."

His eyes go to the floor. "Let's talk inside."

"I don't think I want to talk."

"Whatever you want."

"Are you going to love me one day?"

"Don't want to promise you something unless I'm sure."

There's acid in my throat. Cake, champagne, and rejection is another powerful combination. Only it sucks.

Sadness fills Pete's eyes. He wants to love me. It's almost sweet that he wants to love me but he can't.

I step inside. Not to talk. But to change, pack my things, go somewhere else.

The door slams shut. He tries to slide his arms around me but I break from his touch.

"We should cool things off for a while." I take a deep breath. This is awful but it's necessary if I want to survive the wave of feelings crashing over me. "I'll find some other place to stay. We can talk in a few weeks."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"No." He grabs my hand, pulls my body into his. "You're staying at the house. Even if it means I have to leave."

"You're getting kicked out in a few weeks anyway," I say.

"I can get around that."

"Pete... don't make this harder than it has to be."

He says nothing but he keeps my body against his. My breath hitches. I like his body. Even if I don't have his heart. It's tempting to ask him to throw me on the bed one last time.

To taste his sweet lips, to feel him driving deep inside me as our bodies connect, everything right in the universe.

A few minutes of bliss might be worth the emptiness I'll feel after.

I don't know what to say. I guess he doesn't either. Five minutes must pass. Ten.

Neither of us breaks the silence. No. It's the ringing of a phone. My phone. It's three A.M. in LA, almost four. But that means it's already morning in New York.

It rings all the way to voicemail.

"I want to be around you," he says.

"I want you to love me, but we don't always get what we want." My heart rises up into my throat. Dammit. I feel free and caged at once. My love sends me soaring high. His non-response sends me crashing back to earth.

My phone rings again.

Again.

Again.

Fine. I find it on the bedside table. Sure enough, it's Madison. Pete is still staring at me. I rub my forehead to stave off the impending headache.

"Your sister?" he asks. His voice is soft, sweet, like he's only thinking of me again.

I nod. "I better take this." I pull off my glasses so I can better rub my temples. Damn. Running out of time. I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear. "What's wrong?"

"Dad is in the hospital."

My hand falls back to my side. There's no fighting the headache now. "What happened?"

"He was drinking. I found him... like before. The doctor said he'll be okay in a few days. But..."

"I'll leave as soon as I can."

"I'm sorry, Jess. If you want to leave him to drink himself to death, I understand. You're trying to have a life. I want one too." She chokes back a sob. "I wish I knew what to do. You're better at this."

"That's okay. I'll text you my flight info."

"I'll pick you up at the airport."

"You don't have to."

"Please. I want to." Her voice breaks. "I called Zoe. She's flying up from Florida today."

"Good." My head throbs. I fall back onto the bed, pressing my eyes together. I try to blink back tears but it’s impossible. These aren’t happy tears. I’m terrified. "I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you too."

My hands fall to my sides. The phone falling on the bed. This is happening too fast. But at least everything is clear now. Pete doesn't love me. Dad isn't getting better. Madison needs my help.

The weight shifts on the bed. His arms are around me again. I'm limp, pliable. He pulls my body into his. Clarity, what clarity? I can't walk away from him. Not when he feels this good.

"Your dad?" he asks.

I nod. "He should be okay, but..."

"I want to come with you."

I want him to come with me. But I'm not sure I can take it. I wait for my tears to quiet then for the fear in my stomach to settle down.

I wait until I can meet his gaze. "You aren't a gentleman."

He nods.

"So if I ask you not to come, and you want me, you'll fight for me."

"Don't play a game. Tell me what you want."

"I want my dad to be sober. I want law school to be easier. I want my own house on the beach and my own fancy Tesla, but I want mine to be silver. I want the biggest cup of coffee in the world. And I want you to love me." I wipe my eyes. "Can't have any of that. Might as well want to live on Mars."

His eyes fill with frustration. "I want to come with you."

"Please don't make me say it again. It was pathetic enough the first two times."

"It wasn't pathetic. It was brave." He goes for one of the bobby pins holding together my updo.

Dammit, how can he say things like that, like he admires me for telling him I love him? I can't breathe. I can't think. Every part of me hurts. I don't know which is worse—my dad in the hospital or Pete admiring me for confessing my feelings.

"Please stop touching me. I need to get my shit together. And I can't do it if you're touching me, if the only thing I can think about is how much I wish things were different between us."

He sighs but he does shift back. "How long will it take you to pack?"

"Half hour."

"Do it. I'll book your flight."

I nod, but I make a long stopover in the bathroom to unpin my hair and wash the makeup off my face.

Pete takes charge. He sits me down on the bed, has me drink a glass of water. Then there's a snack in my hands and he's telling me to eat.

Then he's unzipping my dress, sliding it down my body.

"Try to sleep," he whispers. "First available flight is four hours from now."

He helps me out of my clothes and into my pajamas. This isn't how I want him undressing me. But it still feels nice, his hands on my body.

He presses his lips to my forehead.

I want to ask him to join me. I want his arms around me, his voice in my ear, him convincing me it's going to be okay.

But only if it's what he wants.

He's not a gentleman. If he wants me, he'll get into this bed with me, hold my body against his.

I pull the covers over my head, press my eyelids together, and fall asleep alone.

***

I
wake to the smell of coffee and Pete's hands on my shoulders. It feels good and awful at the same time, him touching me.

"Too early for room service," he says. "I'll give you cash to get something at the airport."

I nod. Judging from the still dark sky, it's too early for any reasonable activities.

The room is totally stripped. Everything is packed. But the miserable look on his face tells me he hasn't changed his mind about coming with me. About loving me.

I let him lead the way through the lobby, into a cab, to the airport. He keeps his distance in the backseat. It's too much distance. I hate every inch we're apart.

He helps me out of the cab, helps me with my suitcase. Then we're at the self-checkout, he's printing out my boarding pass. First class. Nonstop. That ticket must have cost a fortune.

"I'll pay you back somehow," I say.

"Not a chance." His hand lingers on my shoulder. His eyes meet mine. "Are you sure?"

"About?"

"That you want to go alone?"

"Pete, you've already told me how it is. You fight for what you want. You're not fighting. You don't have to spell it out."

"That's not it—"

"I'm leaving now."

"I'm gonna kiss you. If you don't want that, tell me now."

I do want that. One last time. One piece of comfort to take with me. I nod a yes. Then his lips are on mine. They're frantic and hungry. I can feel the affection in his kiss.

That's love.

How can he not feel it?

When the kiss breaks, I'm dizzy. I take a step backwards. "I hope you figure out what you want."

For a minute he stares at me. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something. But all he does is nod goodbye.

––––––––

I
t's almost midnight in New York, but I'm wide awake. Two sleeping pills plus one incredibly reclining seat equals few hours of conscious thought.

I text my sister and go in search of coffee. But there's no time for caffeine. She's already here. Waiting.

I go straight to the drop off/pick up area. There she is, in her shiny red car. Madison has always been flashy.

Her face lights up when she sees me. She climbs out of the driver's seat and rushes to pull me into a hug. "I've missed you so much, Jessie. Was your flight okay?"

"For a twelve hour flight." My instincts tell me to push her away, but I don't. I hug her tighter. I'm tired of hating her. I want my best friend back. "It will take a while for me to get over how much it hurt, you betraying my trust like that."

"I understand. I'm sorry. Really, Jessie. I feel awful. I've thought about calling you every night since you left. Couldn't admit it to myself for a while. And then, well, you seemed like you were doing so well. Starting school and... whatever was happening with... I thought maybe he'd come with you if he was your boyfriend. But I understand if you don't want to talk about it. It's not like I deserve to be your shoulder again. Well, I know it's not like I was ever your shoulder. You've always been the strong one."

Yeah, I have. I've always carried everything around on my shoulders, never let anyone help. Until Pete...

Look how well that went.

As much as my heart aches, I'm glad I talked to Pete. Even if he never figures out that he loved me.

It will fucking suck, but it won't take away how light he makes me feel. Made me feel.

I better tell Madison. Between getting dumped and Dad drinking himself into the hospital, I'm going to overflow.

"Let's talk at home," I say. "Will they let us into the hospital?"

Madison puts my suitcase in the backseat. We get into the car.

Her eyes go to the time on the clock. "It's well past visiting hours but there is a nurse who likes me." She checks her reflection and adjusts her top for maximum cleavage.

***

E
xcept for the Emergency Room, the hospital is quiet. Madison leads me right to the wing where Dad is recovering. There's a small waiting area but the lights are off.

It's clearly not visiting hours.

The nurse at the station is an older woman.

Madison pouts. "Guess he's off already. Can't hurt to ask her." She moves to the reception desk and offers the nurse a pleading look.