Strum Your Heart Out (22 page)

Drew gets out of the car. He pulls a hoodie from the backseat, unzips it and slings it around my shoulders.

"This is where I came the other day. When I was trying to think." He takes my hand and walks me toward the canyon. "Didn't help. I was still going out of my mind."

I take a look around. We're on top of one of the canyons in Malibu. The only light is from the moon and the stars. It's enough to make out the rocky scenery.

"About what?" I ask.

"About how I should have been there." He squeezes my hand. "How if I had been around more, you wouldn't have had to hurt yourself."

"That's not true." I pull my hand back to my chest and pull the hoodie a little tighter. "And I don't want to hear you saying things like that. I don't need to add your guilty conscience to the list of shit I have to deal with."

It's dark, but I can still make out his eyes. They're serious, intense.

"Okay." He shifts his weight. "You sure you want to know every ugly thing about me?"

"Positive."

"It happened when I was about seventeen. After my parents got divorced. I was relieved. Finally, I wouldn't have to see them pretend to like each other. But Willow took it so hard. She was miserable and she ran off with—" He lets out a sharp exhale. His hands curl into fists. "The asshole was no good. He hurt her. Hit her. And worse."

His eyes are on fire. His posture is defensive. I slide my arms around his waist.

He stiffens. "She couldn't see it. Thought it didn't mean anything. That he loved her. She was only fifteen. She couldn't help it. But I hated myself for letting her run off with him. I found the guy and beat him within an inch of his life. Broke my hand. Couldn't play the guitar for two months." His voice drops. "Almost killed him. I will if I ever see him again."

"You defended your sister. There's nothing ugly about that."

"It wasn't defense. She was safe. I wanted to make him hurt."

I stare back at Drew. I'm not too keen on violence, but it's hard to fault him for beating the guy who abused his sister.

I run my hand through his hair. "Why did you stop?"

"I don't know. He was a big guy and should have had the upper hand, but he went limp. Stopped fighting back."

"You couldn't do it?"

"Maybe. Or maybe my hand hurt too fucking bad. Or maybe I had enough sense to realize someone was gonna call the cops. It wasn't mercy. Sure as shit wasn't my conscience." His hand slides into my hair, tilting me so we're eye to eye again. "If anyone ever hurt you like that I’d kill him."

"You threatened to kill a guy for grabbing my ass. I can only imagine what you’d do if someone actually hurt me."

"Anytime someone causes you pain, not just that way—I want to kill them.” His gaze goes to the ground. “I keep hurting you. I hate myself for it."

"Drew-"

“Let me finish.” His expression gets intense. "I know you think I'm overprotective. Maybe I am. The last six months or so, I've been trying to protect you from me. I wanted you all this time, Kara. For so long. But I was sure I'd only hurt you."

I swallow hard.

"I've hurt you a lot already."

Tension builds between my shoulder blades. I don't know what he's saying. I don't know how to respond. So I lean closer. I hold him tighter. With my head against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. It's steady and strong.

"I mean it every time I say it. I don't want to hurt you." He holds me tighter. "But it's going to take a while for me to figure this relationship thing out."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna try, but you'll have to be patient."

"Okay."

"Make me a promise." He looks me dead in the eyes. "Promise you won't let me fuck this up."

"Promise you won't let
yourself
fuck this up."

He leans down to press his forehead against mine. "Deal."

"Deal," I agree.

***

It's well past midnight when we get home. Now that my lust is sated, my stomach is growling. I haven't eaten a proper meal since breakfast.

Drew stands behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and resting his chin against my shoulder. I lean into the comfort of his body against mine.

"You hungry?" He asks.

"Starving."

"I'll make something." He kisses me on the cheek and moves to the kitchen.

I plant myself on the table, watching him chop and dice. "When did you learn to cook?"

"Last few years. Miles taught me."

"That's so cute."

He looks at me as if to say
watch yourself, Kendrick.
"I wanted to eat homemade food. We don't tour as much as when we started, but it's still five months this year." He sets a pan on the stove. "If I never eat fast food again, it will be too soon."

"You don't crave burgers and fries?"

He sticks his tongue out in distaste. "Never. Tastes like screaming phone calls with my ex. Like drinking too much and wanting to start a fight but knowing Tom will kill me if I can't play."

"Is it really about playing?"

"Yeah, but—" Drew runs his hand through his hair. He turns toward me. "Tom cares more than he lets on."

"I'm telling him you said that."

Drew moves to my seat. He kneels next to me, so he's only barely looking up to me. "You won't." He grabs my shirt and pulls my lips into his.

I kiss him hard. "How do you know?"

"If you do, I'll tickle you until you pass out." He shifts back to his feet. "Damn, Kendrick. You're distracting me from our dinner."

"You didn't eat with the guys?"

"Stomach was in knots."

"Really?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "I do have feelings."

"But you act like nothing could ever hurt you."

"When you hurt, I hurt. I felt sick knowing I was causing you pain. Kept going in circles, thinking you'd be better off if I backed off but wanting you too much to do it."

"I don't want you to back off. You're the only person I can be myself around."

"What about Meg?"

"It's not the same. Not as easy." I bite my lip. "I'm not good at relationships either. Jake loved me but it wasn't really me. It was the nice, normal girl I convinced him I was."

Smoke drifts from the pan on the stove. It's burning.

"Fuck." Drew moves to the kitchen and tends to the food.

"I won't be okay without you. Even if we don't work as a couple. I need you to be my friend."

He's quiet for a minute. When he speaks, his voice is low. "I always want to be your friend."

My stomach growls. I remind myself to be patient. "I was thinking... what if we slept together?"

"Pretty sure we crossed the bridge, Kendrick."

"Not sex. Sleeping in the same bed. I know a lot of guys don't like it—"

"How many guys you try this with?"

"Shut up."

"You can do better than 'shut up.'"

"I'm too hungry to think up good comebacks."

He laughs as he fiddles with the pot. He's cooking something and it smells good. Like garlic and parsley.

I settle into my seat, all my attention on the scent of the food. Eggs. Red peppers. Some green vegetable. Spinach or maybe kale. If it's kale I'm teasing him mercilessly for being so LA.

Drew turns off the stove, scoops the food onto plates, and joins me at the table.

Damn. Spinach. So much for proving my comeback prowess. "Thanks."

He makes eye contact. "I'd love to sleep with you."

"You sure?"

"But I usually practice for a while before bed."

"I like hearing you play."

"You won't like hearing 'No Way in Hell' for the three hundredth time. How about I join you in your room when I'm done?"

A warmth spreads through my belly. "Okay."

He smiles. "You sleep naked, right?"

"No."

"Fuck. Thought that was part of the deal."

I pluck a pepper from my eggs and throw it at him. Victory! It smacks his cheek.

He peels it off and pops it in his mouth. "I will if you will."

"We'll never actually sleep."

"So?"

"I can sleep commando."

His teeth sink into his lip. "Go on..."

"You have to wait for that."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I sleep without underwear all the time, but it's different doing it knowing Drew is going to be pressed against me. Knowing his hands—

I'm getting ahead of myself. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and change into my normal pajamas: a tank top and cotton drawstring pants. Not the sexiest thing, but they're comfortable.

Drew joins me a few minutes later. He's wet and warm, fresh from the shower. And he's shirtless, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama pants.

"You really sleep like that?" I ask.

"Unless it's cold." He scoots next to me, so he's spooning me. His hand traces the neckline of my tank top as if feeling for a bra.

"Drew," I groan, shifting my body against his. He smells like soap. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping you honest." His fingers trace the edges of my pajama pants. They dip inside lower and lower.

Almost there.

Then his fingertips skim my clit.

Damn.

"I want to ask you something." He presses his body against mine.

"Right now?"

"You want me to stop?" He pulls his hand back to my belly button.

"I didn't say that."

He chuckles. "It's relevant to the subject at hand."

"You're trying to kill me."

"Yeah." He scrapes his teeth against my neck. "Do you ever fantasize about me?"

"So not going there."

"That's a yes."

Obviously it's a yes. I turn so I'm facing him. "Do you ever fantasize about me?"

"All the time." His hand goes to my hip. "I go out of my mind."

"Do you..." I take a deep breath. I want an answer to this so badly. I've never thought about another guy like this. Never wondered how he thought of me or if he— "Do you touch yourself?"

"You're ridding right?"

"No." I stammer. "What's funny about that?"

"A million times."

My sex clenches. Drew really thinks of me that much? He wants me that much? "Really?"

"Fuck yeah. You have any idea how sexy you are?" He yanks the strap of my tank top off my shoulders as if he's proving his point.

I relax into his touch, groaning as he toys with my nipple. He sucks on my neck, shifting his crotch against mine so I can feel his erection.

Drew shifts me so I'm lying on my back. He leans on his elbow. His eyes meet mine. "You ever touch yourself thinking about me?"

"Not a million times."

"A hundred thousand?"

"No."

"A thousand?"

My cheeks burn. I avert my gaze to the ceiling.

"Fuck. I have a lot of catching up to do." He presses his lips to mine. "You have to show me sometime."

"Is it really that interesting?"

"Fuck yes." He pulls my other strap off my shoulder and rolls my tank to my stomach. He drags his hand to my other nipple, teasing me. "What do you think about when you touch yourself?"

"You mean when it's about you?"

"You thinking about other guys?"

I shake my head. "Not for a long time." I look up at Drew. His eyes are fixed on me like he's hanging on every word. This is a whole other level of intimacy, but I want that with him. I take a deep breath. "You touching me or inside of me." My cheeks burn. "Or things I want to do to you."

"Like what?"

I can't say this aloud. It's too much. But it's not like he's going to complain.

I make eye contact. "You're making this difficult."

He smiles. "Chose those words carefully, didn't you?"

I shift, straddling him so I'm on top, looking down at him. Here goes nothing. "I want to suck you off."

His eyes go wide. "I want to watch you touch yourself after."

"You're not in a position to make demands."

He brings his hand to the back of my head and presses me into a deep kiss. "Not a demand. A request. After."

"After." I grind against him.

I drag my hands over his chest and stomach. His body is so hard and defined and there's something so pleasing about the way it feels against my palm, like it was meant for it.

My hands brush the soft hairs below his belly button. He shudders, his hips rocking against me. I go lower, lower, until I'm at his waistband.

Lower. I rub him over his pajamas.

Drew groans into my mouth. He digs his fingers into my chest, squeezing my nipples.

I pull off his bottoms. Drew lifts his hips to help me. Then they're at his knees and off his feet. Then it's just him.

Something in Drew turns on, something animal. His pupils dilate. His breath gets heavy. He pulls the top over my head and tosses it on the floor in one desperate movement.

I press my lips against his neck then work my way down. I draw an outline around his chest piece with my tongue. His skin tastes good. Like soap and like Drew.

His hand goes to my hair. It presses gently against the back of my head, ready to guide me to just the right spot.

I drag my hands down his defined stomach. They rest on his hips, and I hold on tight as I position myself.

The muscles of his stomach tense. I flick my tongue against them. Then a little lower. I nibble on skin just below his belly button.

He lets out a desperate groan. Grabs onto my hair a little tighter. He's shaking. He wants me that badly.

He's at my mercy.

I press one hand against the bed to hold myself up. The other, I wrap around him. He's so thick and warm and hard.

I brush my lips against his tip. He shudders, his hand digging into my hair. I do it again and again, until he groans.

I slide my tongue over him, tasting him, testing his reactions.

His eyes close.

I flick my tongue against the underside of his tip. His fingers dig into my hair. That's it. That's the spot.

"Kara," he groans quietly. "Fuck, Kara."

My nipples harden. My sex clenches. The way he says my name—it's magic, it's poetry.

I do it again and again, until he's panting and shaking, until he brings his other hand to my hair. His fingers press against my head, a gentle nudge.

I take him into my mouth. Sucking on his tip at first, then going deeper. He's big. Too big for me to take completely. I wrap my hand around him, using it like an extension of my mouth, so I have all of him under my control.