Rock Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #3) (29 page)

"Thank you."

"I have an offer for you. A job."

"What?"

"In two weeks, I'm doing this all over again with another band. The tour will be six months with a few breaks. I'll spend most of those doing editorial work. I'd love to have you as my assistant again."

Hazel Alexander wants me to continue as her assistant. It's the most flattering thing I've ever heard. But six months is a long time away from everything. From Tom. If there is even a
me and Tom
after I tell him how I feel.

"I understand if you've had enough of the rock star lifestyle," she says. "But I can bump your salary by about fifty percent."

"Can I think about it?"

"Let me know by the end of the week. Whatever you do, you'll do great." She looks away at something. "Just make sure it's what you want. Men never put their ambitions aside for you."

"Huh?"

She motions to something behind me. Tom is leaning against the wall.

He nods hello, not at all shy about spying.

"Enjoy the party." Hazel nods goodbye to Tom, packs up her computer, and takes the back exit.

Once we're alone, Tom slides his arms around me. He smells good. His hair is wet. His shirt isn't his usual sweaty, discarded v-neck but a sleek white button-up thing. He showered and changed. For me.

"Never been this excited for a tour to end." He presses his lips to mine. "I haven't had enough of you."

"Me either." The need inside me pours into him as I kiss back. God, he tastes good. I break our kiss and bury my face in his chest. "We shouldn't be making out here."

"Can't help myself." His voice is breathy, needy. "What were you and Hazel talking about?"

"I'll tell you once some blood is back in my brain."

I
t's not a party as much as an extra fancy hangout session. The band, plus significant others and a few roadies, laugh, eat, and drink in a hotel suite. There's no fancy bartender. Just a row of liquor and mixers and a plentiful supply of mostly healthy snacks.

No one comments on Tom and me arriving together, but Meg throws him some pretty serious side-eye.

She pushes off her boyfriend’s lap and moves towards us. Usually she wears flats but today she's in heels that put her about an inch above Miles and several inches above Tom. It's intimidating, how tall she is, how confident she is, how she's going to be a doctor.

Miles is so supportive when he talks about her. I can only hope Tom is as supportive of what I want.

"You've never showered after a show before." She looks him up and down. "Do you have a date or something?"

"Shit. I thought Miles told you about our plan to double team you," Tom teases.

Miles laughs.

Meg blushes but stays strong. "In your dreams."

"You know I don't date," Tom says.

"Things change." Meg's eyes drift to me. "It could be nice, taking someone special out after a long day—"

"And making her come until she begs for mercy." Miles pulls his girlfriend onto his lap. He presses his lips against her neck.

She's putty. It takes her a full minute to pull away from Miles enough to talk to Tom. "Whatever you're doing, I hope you’re treating her..." She looks at me. "Whoever that is. Well."

Is subtlety a lost art? I can't exactly blame people for tiptoeing around me and Tom's relationship, but this is clomping.

"Babe, that was the worst hint I've ever heard." Miles teases his girlfriend. "You're lucky everyone knows that Tom and Willow are fucking. Everyone except Drew."

Tom shoots him a death glare.

Miles laughs. "Not as much fun the shoe being on the other foot, huh?"

"I wasn't
that
obvious." Meg motions to Kara and Drew cuddling on the couch then turns to me. "As long as Guitar Prince is busy, how is Tom?"

"I'm right here," Tom says.

"Please. You'd not only ask that, but you'd subject us to some truth or dare bullshit just for the excuse." Meg folds her arms over her chest. "So..."

"Must be good if she's sticking around," Miles says. "It's not for his wit."

"I don't know. Tom's pretty good-looking once you get past his personality," Meg teases.

"Come on." Tom glances at Drew as if to check if the coast is clear, and slides his arm around my waist. "I need to talk to you."

"Enjoy the
conversation
." Miles winks.

We find an empty space in the kitchenette. There's something about Tom's expression. Something bothering him. Of course there is. Tomorrow, he's going to find out if his mom is going to live or die.

"Can I come tomorrow?" I'm too tired to hold anything back. "I want to be there for you."

"Yeah." He runs a hand through my hair. "I want you to be there."

"Really?"

He nods.

"Tom, I—" I barely bite my lip in time to keep the words in my throat. The man has enough on his mind.

"You okay, kid? You and Hazel looked pretty serious."

Okay, that's something I can discuss. "She offered me a job. Being her assistant on her next tour. It would start in two weeks and I'd be gone most of the year."

"Is that what you want?"

I study his eyes for a sign to his reaction. There's no telling if he wants me to stay or if he's totally apathetic. "It's a good opportunity."

Tom's voice gets stern. "That's not what I asked."

There are footsteps coming towards us. Tom practically jumps backwards. He gets busy filling a glass with ice and whiskey.

False alarm. It's only Miles.

He takes one look at our startled expressions and shakes his head. "Take it from someone who's been there. This is going to blow up in your faces sooner rather than later."

"Asshole," Tom mutters.

"Love you too, buddy." Miles fills a glass with water and returns to the main area.

Tom scans the room. He motions to the bathroom in the bedroom. "Let's get some privacy."

Okay. That works. There's another bathroom in the main area. We should be pretty safe. I lead the way, planting on the marble sink while I wait for Tom.

He slips into the room quietly. His eyes meet mine. "You want to tell me what's wrong?"

"No."

"It's not actually a request."

"Aren't you worried about your mom?" I ask.

"Of course." He moves closer. "But one thing at a time." He brushes my hair from my eyes. "Something is bothering you."

"No."

He pushes my t-shirt up an inch and runs his fingers over my stomach. "I have ways of making you talk."

I swallow hard.

He plays with the button of my jeans. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Because."
Because I love you, idiot
. I swallow hard. Is it possible he doesn't see that?

"You want to take Hazel's job offer?"

"Maybe."

"I'll miss you." He kisses from my ear to my shoulder. "But we'll figure it out."

"What is it we'll figure out, Tom?"

"This."

"What is this?"

"You're changing the subject." He shifts away from me. "Tell me what it is that's wrong."

I don't want to tell him. I don't want to do anything but get in control of my senses again. My feelings are so overwhelming. I can't explain them with words. But the way our bodies fit together... it's there. He must feel it too.

"I'll tell you." I pull my shirt over my head. "After you fuck me."

He stares into my eyes. "Tell me first."

I can't tell him first. Telling him might scare him off. And I'm not going to give up my last time with Tom. Even if it will hurt as much as it feels good.

Okay. No more playing nice. I unhook my bra and slide it off my shoulders. "Please."

"Willow," he groans. "I'm not gonna fuck your pain away."

"Why not?"

Confusion forms in his eyes. "You mean more to me than that."

"Then fuck
your
pain away." I run my hands through his hair. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you're not scared."

"I'm not running away from my feelings this time."

"Which feelings?"

"Any of them."

I bring my hand to the back of his neck. It feels damn good to touch him. I need the upper hand again. "What do I mean to you?"

"Can't exactly explain—"

"Then show me."

That, he understands. He unbuttons his shirt and shrugs if off his shoulders.

I unzip my jeans and slide them to my knees. "I need you. Do you need me?"

"Always."

He presses his lips to mine. Maybe he can't explain it either. That's okay. I don't need words to show him how I feel about him.

My feelings pour into my kiss.
I want you. I need you. I love you.
Everything I can't say.

I've got no patience today. I drag my hands over Tom's shoulders and down his chest. He's so hard, so strong, so safe. My hands go for his jeans but I need to keep this slow. To keep it making love.

There's the thinnest layer of perspiration on his skin. He's worked up for me. I slide my tongue into Tom's mouth. Dig my hands into his hair. He slides my panties off my feet. Unbuttons his jeans. Breaks our kiss to whisper in my ear.

"I'll make this fast." Tom slides his arms around my hips, bringing me to the edge of the counter. His eyes go wide as he aligns our bodies.

His expression is damn beautiful. The desire as his cock nudges against my sex. The relief as he fills me.

God he feels good. The intensity threatens to break my silence. The words form on my lips, demanding my attention. When I can't take it anymore, I kiss him hard and deep.

He's just as needy. I can feel it in the way his tongue slides against mine. The way his fingers press against my hips. The way he thrusts into me with long, slow movements.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders for support and press my chest against his. Our bodies are practically merged. It's not just sex. It can't be. Not with the way he's kissing me, the way he's touching me.

I press my fingers into his skin, soaking in all of him that I can. My lungs don't fill until our kiss breaks. His eyes catch mine and I know I won't be able to look away until we're finished.

It's just as hard to breathe with him staring into my eyes.

Everything else fades away. The world is Tom. His soft skin. His hard muscles. His ragged breath. His deep groans. All the pleasure and affection in his gorgeous green eyes.

Pleasure builds in my core. More and more until it commands me to close my eyes, to look away, to do anything to temper the emotions welling up inside me. I fight it.

Tom doesn't look away. He stares back at me, running his fingers along my chin and jaw. He must feel the way I do. That or he's pretending. And I can't even stomach that thought.

He shifts. His pubic bone rubs against my clit.

Yes. I sink my fingers into his skin. "Come with me. Please."

He groans. His lips press against mine and my eyes flutter closed.

My tongue slides into his mouth. My hands dig into his hair. We stay glued together, moans reverberating down our throats. Tension knots inside me. Yes. Almost. I kiss harder. Bring my body closer to his.

His nails dig into my skin. His shoulders shake. I try to hold back my orgasm. It's no use. My sex clenches. Again. Again. Then I'm coming, pulsing around him.

It pulls him closer. Urges him on. He doesn't break our kiss. Only gets more aggressive with his lips and his tongue as he comes. As he fills me.

We stay pressed together for a long moment. My senses shift into focus.

There's no holding back anymore. I can't stop myself from saying it. "Tom, I—"

I'm interrupted by a woman's giggle and the bathroom door swinging open.

Kara.

"Oh, my God." She shrieks.

I grab a towel to cover myself. Tom pulls his jeans on. But it's not fast enough. Kara steps backwards. She trips over something.

Drew's converse clad foot. He looks down at her. "What the—"

Then he’s looking at us.

There's no talking my way out of this. I'm in a towel. Tom is barely in his jeans. He's got that just fucked look about him, and I'm sure I'm no better.

Drew's expression flares with anger. "I'm going to fucking kill you."

K
ara plants herself in front of Drew. He seethes but he stays put. There's no way he'd ever risk hurting her.

"Please step aside," he growls.

She turns back to him and presses her hands against his chest. "You're not hitting him."

Drew glares at Tom. "Okay. Please move so I can speak to Tom privately."

She tugs at his t-shirt. "You really want to betray my trust by going back on your word?"

"I won't." Drew looks back to Kara. "I won't hit anyone."

She motions to her engagement ring. "I'm not marrying a man with a violent temper, Drew. I don't care how much it will break my heart not being with you." Her voice softens. "You're better than this."

The same anger stays on his face, but his posture shifts from alpha dog
I'll fucking kill you
to a slightly less menacing
I'm thinking about killing you but I'm not willing to risk the jail time.

Still, Kara stays put in front of him.

Drew clenches his fists. His eyes are laser glued to Tom. "Do you love her?"

"What?" Tom steps backwards.

"It's not a trick question," Drew says.

"Baby, did you like Tom dragging our shit in front of everyone?" Kara rubs Drew's biceps. She leans closer and whispers something in his ear.

"Seems fair, doing it to him now." Drew turns his attention to Tom. "Do you?"

Tom frowns. "I don't know."

"You better fucking figure it out. Because if you love her, fine. But if you're using your player bullshit on her." Drew squeezes his fists so tight his veins bulge. "I won't kill you. I won't hit you. But I sure as hell won't ever look at your smug face again. I don't give a fuck about contractual obligations. I'm not going to show up at some event. I'm not going to pose for some god damn magazine cover. And I'm sure as hell never getting on a stage or in a studio next to you."

"Drew." Kara reaches for his hand.