Rock Starred: Love My Way (5 page)

And then I was forced to begin the heartbreaking process of falling
out
of love with someone. Brad’s brutal words hit me square in the center of my chest. He wasn't sure he'd ever really loved me. There was somebody else. He had to leave, be true to his own heart, before it was too late. He was sorry, but it was better for both of us. Every word left a hole in me, some of them bigger than others, and I'd been trying like hell to close them since. How could I have been so unequivocally wrong about someone? The question still haunted me.

"Maybe I'm still not ready."

"The longer you keep doing this, the more it's going to seem normal. And it's not normal." Her lovely green eyes held a familiar mix of pity and love. "You're like a sister to me. I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. You need to learn to keep the past where it belongs and give some guy, somewhere, a chance."

"I want to. I'm just scared." My voice dragged as I battled the tears and overwhelming sadness that came when I thought about Brad.

"You have every right to feel that way, but you have to let down your guard at some point."

The room went silent as my mind swirled with bad memories, like I was swimming my way out of a whirlpool. I had to find a way to put this behind me. I blew out a breath through my nose. "I suppose you're right."

Gwen knocked her head to the side and wriggled her finger in her ear. "What was that?"

I huffed. "You're right."

Her eyes opened wide in disbelief. "Let me find a tape recorder. You never tell me I'm right about anything."

"That's because it's annoying to admit."

She smiled wide, pulling me into a hug and patting me on the back. "Okay. Tonight. You and I are going to go have a fabulous dinner and drink wine so you can tell me what Peter looks like naked."

I crinkled my lips and swallowed.

"Then we're going to get in separate cabs," she said. "I'm going to come back here and order crème brûlée from room service and take a bath in our insane bathtub. You're going to go see Slump and you're going to relax and have fun and just be Katie. Let life happen."

"You aren't coming with me?"

"No way. I don't ever want to see Stony's face again."

"What do you mean let life happen?"

"I mean you need to just go with something. Give Peter a chance."

I climbed out of the cab in front of Club Moxie, first astounded and then discouraged by the line of people two or three across, down the sidewalk and around the corner. Was this a sign? I was ready to bail when I saw that there was a separate window for will-call tickets with only a few people waiting.

Stepping up to the glass after the guy in front of me collected his tickets, I leaned to speak into the window opening. "Kate Stillman. I'm on the Slump guest list."

A woman with black spiky hair dragged her finger down a long list of names and flipped to a second page. My name was scribbled down at the very end. "Do you have a plus one?" she asked.

"No, it's just me."

She crossed my name off the list. "Hold on two secs. I'm supposed to let security know that you're here." She mumbled into a walkie-talkie and then leaned forward to talk to me through the glass again. "It'll be a minute. They'll come and get you."

I stepped away and wrapped my arms around my middle, wishing I'd had the sense to throw on a cardigan or jacket before we'd left the hotel. It had rained during dinner and the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees, making my silky, sleeveless top seem like an idiotic choice, no matter how good I felt about the way I looked in it.

Gwen had given me endless amounts of encouragement throughout dinner. Her words were all well intended, but they didn't bolster my confidence at all. They only made me question what I was doing. A second date seemed like a suicide mission, my heart and pride hanging in the balance. For all I knew, Peter just wanted a farewell fuck before he hit the road with the band the next day.

The line to get into the club dwindled and I wondered if I'd been forgotten.
I should have just gone back to the hotel with Gwen.
I didn't want to be a princess, but waiting alone on a dark sidewalk wasn't exactly the VIP treatment I was accustomed to. I dug my phone out of my purse and was about to send Peter a text when a metal door scraped open and a burly guy in a too-small t-shirt leaned out. "Are you Katie?"

"Yep."

"Come on. This way."

He led me down a dingy hall, covered with band names scrawled in pen and marker. We rounded the corner and he stepped aside when we reached a wood door, which he pushed open for me.

The band's dressing room was packed with people, almost all of them women, a few looking as though they'd answered a casting call for jailbait. At the ripe old age of twenty-eight, I wondered if I was already a relic, an annoying concept considering that Peter was already thirty.

Every band member had a girl or two hanging on him except for Peter, who sat in the corner with his back to me, strumming his guitar and poring over a notebook. Lead singer Elliot gave me a look of confused recognition as he stood opening a beer.

Stony caught my eye as a big-chested blonde ran her hand over his bald head. "Yo, Pete," he called out. "Your
chica
is here."

Peter looked over his shoulder, his brilliant blue eyes and electric smile flashing when he saw me, causing my heart to worm its way into my throat. He hopped up and set the guitar against the wall, stepping over a few groupies to get to me, stopping to slug Stony in the arm and give him the stink-eye along the way.

"I was starting to worry." He put his arm around me and kissed me softly on the corner of my mouth. "Let's get out of here." Taking my hand, he led me into the dingy corridor where a few crewmembers and club employees milled about. He leaned me against the wall in a dark corner and gave me a steamy beer-flavored kiss, his fingers twining with mine. "I'm really glad you decided to come." He swept my hair behind my ear. "You look so beautiful in that top. I wish we had time to run out to the bus for some alone time."

As much as it was my natural instinct to dig in my heels, his words left me unable to keep my hands to myself, my fingers drawn to the patch of his chest peeking out from his black, collared shirt. "Doesn't that mess with your mojo?"

He grinned and looked at my hand as my finger swirled in his chest hair. "You're thinking of athletes. It actually does the opposite for musicians." He kissed me again, prompting the now regular flutter in my chest. "So Gwen decided not to come?"

"She wants to stay away from Stony."

"Probably for the best. He's hooking up with some girl who's been hanging around all day. You know how it is."

I did know how it was. I'd freaking witnessed how it was, many times, because of my job. The thought of Peter acting like that was wholly unpleasant, even when I knew that he must do it all the time. There was no shortage of available women.

"I should go find a spot out in the club to watch the set." I hitched my purse over my shoulder.

"Oh no. You don't have to do that. You can stand on the side of the stage with the rest of the girls."

I crinkled my lips.
The rest of the girls.
"Great."

Peter escorted me to the side of the stage where three other women stood, clustered behind the curtains that were already open. He pecked me on the temple. "Time to make the donuts," he said and walked back to where his bandmates were waiting.

The girls were all talking, oblivious to me. I checked my phone for messages just to have something to do when I overheard them.

"I hooked up with him the last time they were in town," the tall redhead said. "Guess that's not happening this time."

Stony's blonde clucked her tongue. "Elliot is hot and he's the singer. Some people might say that's a step up."

"Yeah, I guess," the redhead answered.

My pulse began to thump wildly as I did the math and realized unless she was talking about Mark, the very married bass player, she had to be talking about Peter. That left me with an uneasy roll in my stomach.

The club was packed, a throng of sweaty and anxious music fans. It was a much smaller venue than Slump would normally play. They were building buzz for a live record that would come out in the fall by selling out every show in record time.

You could sense the anticipation in the air as the music over the PA changed to an instrumental version of Slump's most recent hit,
Clouded
. The crowd pressed closer to the stage as people craned their necks in hopes of being one of the first to see the band. Stony led the procession, taking his seat behind the drum kit and thumping the bass drum a few times. The crowd erupted in a roar of screams and cheers, which only grew louder when Elliot and Peter took the stage.

The audience became more eager, chanting the band's name. Peter looked down at his feet, tuning his guitar. He stomped on an effects pedal, cocked an eyebrow at me and strode to the center of the stage with more charisma than I ever imagined could be crammed inside a body. I watched as he sent an entire mob of people into a state of euphoria with a single strum of his guitar.

By the middle of the first song, I'd nearly forgotten where I was. I became immersed in the performance, astounded by how tight they were as a unit. Their musicianship far surpassed anything I'd imagined. It was obvious that the magic on the record was entirely their own, effortlessly replicated in a live setting. Watching Peter was more than a little bit of a turn-on, seeing him masterfully play guitar, arms glistening with sweat, his hair sweeping across his forehead. Girls screaming for him from the first few rows, he peeled out several mind-blowing solos. He was in his element, with a visceral rock swagger all his own.

He sauntered over to me after the set as the band stood in the wings, waiting for the crowd to earn their encore. "Let's get out of here right after these last two songs."

I smiled, eying his sweat-coated chest and forehead, his hair slightly damp from the moisture. "Don't you want to hang out with the guys afterward?"

He leaned into my ear with hot lips against my skin. "Not when I can be alone with you."

* * * * *

Sitting in the back of the limo with Peter, it felt as if we were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, except I was fairly certain we'd hit nothing but green lights. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. He kissed me a few times, but each instance quickly became incendiary, hands slipping under clothing, fingers grasping, tongues winding together. We would stop, sit back and collect ourselves, smoothing garments and catching our breath. Then one of us would break down and look at the other and we'd both give in to temptation again.

Peter flattened me against the wall of the elevator on our way up to his room. "I think I played better tonight because of you. That was the best show I've had in a few weeks." He firmly gripped my rib cage, his thumb grazing the side of my breast. "You're wearing a bra. That's no fun."

My eyes fluttered. Even fully clothed, every brush of our bodies stoked the fire. "I have a feeling I won't be wearing one much longer."

The elevator dinged. "Yeah, not if I can help it."

We hurried down the hall at a lightning pace, holding hands. Peter jammed the keycard into the door and it flashed a red light. He tried a second time. Red light. He glanced up at the room number. "Shit. We got out on the wrong floor."

I snickered and grabbed his hand. "The stairs will be faster."

We walked double-time for the door at the end of the hall and took the steps up one more floor. The keycard flashed green this time and we stumbled into the room.

"Shower?" he asked, stealing a kiss as he slid his hand around my waist. "I'm sweaty."

I'd already started on his shirt with one more button to go. "Um, sure. Whatever you want." The thought of him wet and soapy was more than a little appealing.

"Anything? Will you loofah my back?" He rolled his shoulders from his sleeves, the expanse of his chest a welcome invitation.

I laughed quietly and kissed his shoulder, his skin salty and sticky, a sensory delight. "Are you serious?"

"No. I just like saying loofah." He grinned when I giggled, sweeping my hair to the side, exploring my neck with his velvety lips.

We stepped into the bathroom, leaving on only the light in the hallway, which cast a warm glow across the white marble floor. Peter reached into the glass enclosure and turned on the water. His jeans and boxers were gone in seconds as I tossed my blouse on the floor before wriggling out of my jeans.

He snaked his hands around my waist, his erection sandwiched between us. "I can't wait to cover you in soap." He didn't hesitate to unhook my bra and pop each strap off my shoulder. "Much better."

My breasts flooded with warmth before he even touched them. It was such an unfamiliar feeling—that Peter and I already had a tiny sliver of history and I wasn't panicking, I only wanted his hands all over every inch of me. He poked his thumbs beneath the waistband of my panties, pushed them past my hips and we stepped into the spray.

I sought his lips, resting my arms on his broad shoulders and combing my fingers into his now-damp hair. The hot water battered my back and trickled over my shoulders as the bathroom air became balmy and thick. His hands slicked down my back and over my butt, gently squeezing, drawing my hips closer to his. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth and our tongues swirled together in an endless loop.

Peter kissed his way along my jaw, down my neck and across my collarbone. He dipped his head to my breast and I watched his tongue circle the hardened tip of my nipple as water cascaded across the side of his face and rolled over his jaw. He held my rib cage firmly and dragged his tongue to the other breast, leaving a tingly trail in his wake. He took my nipple into his mouth as if he couldn't get enough of me. I dropped my head, grappling with how insanely good it felt.

I reached for the bar of soap and pressed it into his hand.

He unleashed a sly smile and snickered. "I didn't want to say anything, but your boobs are filthy."

"Very funny. You're the dirty one."

He built the lather with his fingers while the hunger in his eyes made me quiver. His sudsy hands sank against my breasts, his palms into my nipples, spreading the silky bubbles in circles. His eyes flickered as he watched my reaction, our eyes connecting while the temperature continued to climb. I gasped as he plucked at my puckered skin with his fingertips and began to gently twist, every turn sending a sizzle between my legs.

"You like that?" he asked, a satisfied smile across his face. He continued to roll my nipples between his fingers, building pressure in my belly.

"Yes," I whispered, struggling to force words from my body. The only instinct I had at that moment was to find a way to have him inside me as quickly as possible.

He slipped a hand between my legs and I popped up onto my tiptoes. "You're so wet," he mumbled and took a nibble of my ear as his fingers went to work.

"I want you so bad," I replied, surprising myself with the honesty of the admission. I reached for his rock-hard cock and he groaned as I stroked and curled the tips of my fingers under his balls. The heel of my hand worked against him as he backed me against the shower wall. As hot as it was in the room, the marble was icy against my back, causing me to arch into him.

He dropped to his knees and his hands separated my lips before he nestled his face between my legs. His tongue flickered against my clit as he drove two fingers inside, rougher than before. He grasped the back of my thigh with his other hand and hooked my leg over his shoulder. My head began to swim as this new position gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper and suck my skin voraciously, his lips hungry and eager. I steadied myself against the wall, clawing at the hard stone, knowing I might collapse like a rag doll when he was finished.