You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (10 page)

“I already told you. He said I
serviced
him. He wanted more.”

He shook his head. “When he touched you, Em, did you burn? Did he drive you crazy?”

She thought of all the times he’d come up behind her and press his erection to the small of her back. Or when she’d be working at her computer and he’d cup her breasts—his way of saying he wanted to get naked. No, she hadn’t felt aroused. She’d felt irritated.

“We were together three years. It wasn’t like that.”

“What did he do to turn you on? To make you go wild?”

“I don’t know. He let me know when he wanted to have sex.”

“And how did he do that?”

“Well, how does any guy do it?” An elbow on the window, her hand shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she stared unseeing at the rush of traffic. What a mortifying conversation. And yet . . . she was curious.
Had
Alex been in some way at fault?

“The thing is, Em, we want a girl to
want
to have sex with us. It’s not a warm body that turns us on. It’s a responsive woman. So if a guy just gets himself off, it’s unlikely she’s going to be all that excited to do it again with him.”

He flicked on the turn indicator, glancing over his shoulder before changing lanes. “Did he do that? Just get himself off?”

Definitely.
“In bed, yeah, he just got himself off. But he did other things, romantic things. He bought me flowers sometimes. Ran me a bath when I’d had a hard day. Those are the little things women like that
you
don’t take into consideration because you’ve never been in a long-term relationship.”

“I’m talking about
fucking
. Not dropping bath bombs in your tub. Did he ever get you so worked up that you rubbed your foot on his dick under the table in the restaurant, rammed your ass against his junk in the stairwell, and banged him against the wall as soon as you got into your apartment? Because you just had to have him? Did he ever turn you on that much?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing how much Alex would have loved her to do any of those things with him. “No.” She would love to feel that much desire. She just didn’t think she was capable of it. “That’s why the checklist. I’m working on it.”

“Jesus Christ, Em, don’t let this asshole do a number on you. He wanted to bang groupies on the road, and he didn’t have the balls to break up with you beforehand. He’s a shit.” He crumpled her list in one hand. “Problem solved.”

“Why did you do that? Give it back. You don’t even know me.”

He gave her a look that called her out. Because they
did
know each other. In their time alone together in the house they didn’t make small talk. They
talked
.

“I know that he didn’t turn you on.”

“Well, guess what, Slater? No one ever has.”

“None of your other boyfriends?”

“He’s the only one I’ve slept with.”

“That’s a startling answer to an entirely different question. But you’ve dated other guys. Did you feel attracted to them? Or just other guys in general? You
can
feel attracted to someone else even when you’re in a relationship. You just don’t have to act on it. There
are
other options. Hey, maybe you could make one of your lists and send it to him. A list of possible alternatives to fucking other women when you’re in a committed relationship.”

He brought up a good point.

“So,
have
you felt sexual attraction for other guys?”

“Sure, I guess.” She guessed? Like she hadn’t been lusting after
him
just the other night?

“So, see? You don’t need to get in touch with your saucy side. You just need to find the right guy.” Awareness lit his features. “Unless you’re trying to win him back. Is that the plan? Trying to get yourself all hot and bothered for the guy who cheated on you?”

“You’re not very nice.”

“Did someone tell you I was?”

“Okay, stop. You’re twisting me up.”

“Hearing the truth after blaming yourself for someone else’s bad behavior only
feels
twisted. Until it sinks in. Listen, while I’m all for sex toys, they won’t release your inner vixen. It’s chemistry, Em. It’s carnal. It’s raw, unadulterated attraction. Forget the list. Get the right guy.”

Her head tipped back, hitting the headrest. So much of what he said sounded true. And yet, if she felt attracted to Slater, another musician, maybe something was—

“Emmie,” he said, cutting into her thoughts. “Nothing’s wrong with you.”

She rolled her head to look out the window, watching the blur of highway traffic.

“You are sexual.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you want to lick my tattoo.”

Bells tinkled as Slater pulled open the door. Red and black polka-dotted wallpaper and the strong scent of vanilla overwhelmed him as he entered after Emmie. On the stereo, Teddy Pendergrass sang, “Let’s take a shower, shower together,” from “Turn Off the Lights.”

And just like that Slater’s imagination carried him to their shared shower stall. How many times had he stepped in only moments after she’d gotten out, his senses filled with the sweet scent of her body wash? How many times had he soaped up imagining her gorgeous breasts filling his hands? How many times had he fisted himself, jerking off so that he could handle being around her in the kitchen as she walked around without a bra?

“So, um, where should I start?” Emmie stood there, taking in the various display tables. Her eyes widened at the lingerie hanging on well-endowed mannequins in back.

Nothing like the elegant chemises she’d seen at Bella Donna. This stuff was
dirty
.

Oh, hell. How had coming after her today been a good idea? “You don’t need to be here at all. This isn’t going to make you feel attracted to your ex.”

“What?” She turned fiery, gazing up at him, and he understood for the first time her true frustration. “I told you. It isn’t about him. It’s about me.”

“Yeah? And you still don’t get it. It’s about
chemistry
. Not skinny dipping, not crotchless panties, and definitely not blind dates with boring guys.” Why was he pushing her? This wasn’t any of his business. And what would Derek think if he knew Slater had taken his sister to a sex toy shop?

“Right. From the expert. Like you’ve ever felt true passion. I’m not looking to rut.”

He snickered. “Rut.” She cracked him up.

“All the books say to get in touch with yourself first. So, I’m doing that. I’m getting in touch with my sexuality.” She looked up at him, and there it was, that compelling intimacy he felt every time he looked into her eyes. The world narrowed to her, as if he’d known her all his life, and yet she wasn’t familiar to him at all. She was a mystery he was only beginning to figure out.

Why did he want to know her so damn much?

“What is it you want, Emmie?” He tugged on her arm, pulling them off to the side.

A sales girl spotted them and, with a huge smile, came steaming over. Slater gave her a hard look. She did an about-face and returned to the counter.

“You want to swing from chandeliers? Have a threesome? Because you’re at a sex toy shop, okay? You can get nipple clamps here. Is that how you want to get in touch with your sexuality?”

She shook her head. He couldn’t bear the pleading look in her eyes. “I just want to feel something.”

But you do feel something. Something for me
. He stepped back from her. He’d had a head injury. His brain had been rattled by the force of several blows to his skull. “Let’s just start with some simple things, okay?”

He ventured forward, but she grabbed the back of his shirt.

“That’s exactly what I want. Simple. Nothing kinky.”

“Right.
Fun
stuff.” He headed for the massage oils, lifting one and uncapping it so she could smell it. He thrust it in front of her nose. “Chocolate.”

She turned her face away from the smell. “Why do you say it like that? You make me sound so naïve, so . . . childish.”

“Say what?”

“Like in the car, when I said Alex and I did
fun
stuff. You made out like I just didn’t get it at all.”

“Because you don’t.” He shouldn’t feel so angry. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. But he couldn’t stop the anger from charging through him. He shouldn’t be there. He should be home, coming up with a hook for his song.

“I don’t know why you say that. Alex and I did it in parking lots and restaurant bathrooms.”

He stalked off. He didn’t want to hear about her sexcapades.

But she followed him. “What’s the matter with you? Now, suddenly, you don’t want to talk about sex? All you’ve done since I moved in is try to make me uncomfortable with your sexual references. You, the guy who has sex with a different woman every night.”

“I don’t have sex every night. What a stupid thing to say.”

“Uh, you haven’t been home in three days.”

“And so you assume I’ve been having a sex marathon?”

She thought about it. “I guess so. Maybe.”

He headed down an aisle—the wrong aisle, since he didn’t think handcuffs and sex swings would be a good place for Emmie to start. But she followed on his heels.

“If you’re not having sex, then where are you going? Why don’t you come home?”

Come
home
? She was playing house with him now?

Did she
like
having him around? Because he liked coming downstairs for lunch and finding her at the kitchen table—in fact, he tried to time it so they could eat together. He liked going to the grocery store with her—making her laugh by tossing tins of Spam into the cart or watching her feel up a cantaloupe. He’d taken to leaving his door open so he could get a glimpse of her working across the hall from him. He
liked
to see her in a tank top with a big aluminum water bottle on her desk and a neon-colored straw sticking out of it as she clacked away on her keyboard.

“What do you care what I do with my time?” he said, and not very nicely.

“Well, I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure the wound was healing properly.”

“It’s healing fine. Thank you, Nurse Valencia.” He strode into the lingerie section and right into the sales clerk with a customer. The woman wore a lace body stocking, and the clerk seemed to be adjusting the straps for her. Emmie bumped into him, her hand fisting in his shirt. Both women looked up. The woman seemed annoyed, but the clerk smiled.

“I’ll be with you in a moment, okay?” the clerk said.

“We’re just looking, but thank you.” Emmie pulled him away.

She dragged him down the aisle, back toward the front of the store. Clutching his shirt again, she looked up at him, fear in her eyes. “Oh, my God. This is not what I wanted at all.”

He knew what she wanted. “Yes, I know. You want to lose yourself. You want to feel passion.” He leaned down to her ear, breathing in her sweet scent, feeling her silky hair brush across his cheek. “Passion isn’t something you find in a sex store, Emmie.”

“I wanted this to be fun. I want sex to be fun.”

“If you’re having fun, you’re not doing it right.” He picked up some Ben Wa balls. “Get a basket.”

“What does that mean?” She grabbed a red wicker basket with black ribbon woven through it. “Tell me what you mean.”

“Here.” He dropped a bottle of cherry-flavored lubricant into it. “Sex is naughty, Emmie. It’s hot and filthy, and it drives you wild. It makes you literally lose your mind. There’s nothing
fun
about it
.
Sex is raw, sweaty, and dirty.”

She contemplated his words. “Then I’ve never had sex at all.”

He dropped in some candles. “That’s it. Let’s go.”

Looking into her basket, she frowned. “I have three things.”

“If you want to pleasure yourself, light a candle, lube yourself up, and figure out what gets you off.” He leaned closer. “And then shove those Ben Wa balls in your pussy and walk around with them in there.”

She started to speak, but he put a finger over her mouth. He did not want to talk about this anymore.

He shrugged, like none of this mattered to him. “Or not. Your call.”

—

“Great news, guys,” Emmie said, cheeks red as apples.

Something was going on with her. Slater ignored his growling stomach, uninterested in eating until he figured out what.

She’d loaded the table with cold cuts, condiments, pickles, potato salad, and a pitcher of iced tea. On the counter she had freshly baked chocolate chip cookies cooling on a rack.

Her flushed features, sparkling eyes, and breathlessness made him wonder if she’d tried the Ben Wa balls. Were they inside her right then?

The guys quieted down but continued building their sandwiches.

“You’re in Austin City Lights.” Her smile turned into laughter as she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Sunday of the second weekend. The last day.”

Holy shit. That was fucking great news. But as quickly as the euphoria hit, it fled, replaced with a strange sense of hollowness. He should be thrilled to play a gig as big and important as ACL. And he was, it was just . . . it sucked that his dad wouldn’t be in the audience hollering and clapping like a lunatic. A crazy, proud lunatic.

The old bastard had worked so hard for this moment. And he’d never get to see it. What a damn shame.

The guys cheered and shouted. Derek jumped out of his chair and lifted Emmie off the ground, swinging her around in a bear hug. The yellow sundress bunched around her waist, revealing the backs of her creamy thighs.

“You’re awesome,” Pete said.

“I can’t believe it,” Ben said. “How?”

Emmie shrugged. “I sent in your demo.”

“The demo’s all right,” Derek said. “But, come on, your connections? Don’t tell me they didn’t help get us into ACL.”

“Everything helps,” she said. “But they wouldn’t add you to the lineup if they didn’t like you. And they did.” She looked at Slater. “They really like your songs . . .” And then to the whole group, “And your image.”

They had done a pretty good job of unifying their look. When Ben had come home with a leather top hat, nose ring, and tight leather pants, Emmie had kindly suggested he take a little more time to figure out who he was. The guys had made fun of him for trying to look like Slash, which had really pissed him off. So he’d come back a few days later with a whole new look. His hair hadn’t grown out long enough to rock a real pompadour, but it was getting there. And with a preppy wardrobe a frat boy would kill for, he actually looked more like himself than he ever had before. And, more importantly, he felt comfortable in it.

“And that picture.” Ben gestured to the eight-by-ten shot of the band Emmie had framed and hung on the kitchen wall.

“Yeah, that’s a great one of you guys,” Tiana said.

They continued to talk excitedly about the gig, and Emmie turned back to the counter. Slater couldn’t stop thinking about the Ben Wa balls, so he got up and stood beside her. As she sliced an avocado, he leaned over and said, “Are they inside you?”

She nodded, rolling her eyes with the lustiest expression he’d ever seen. She blew out a slow breath. A rush of desire tore through him, powering through his dick, making his legs go weak and his mind bob in a sea of lust. Right then, right beside him, she was slick and aroused, practically squirming against the counter, and he could imagine what it would feel like to slide inside of her.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, opening her mouth wide, her eyes rolling back in her head.

And that was it. He threw open the sliding glass door and stepped out into the backyard. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he shouted.

The guys hooted, chairs scraping back. They thought he was flipping out over the festival, about the future she’d made possible for them. They all flew out of the house. Great. He couldn’t just stand there with his huge, jutting hard-on, so he let out a warrior cry and threw himself into the pool.

*   *   *

Slater got out of the pool to grab some towels from the laundry room and found the girls had left the kitchen. Had Emmie gone to her room to get herself off? Was she touching herself right then? He wished he’d never seen her in that dressing room, never seen her expression when she was aroused, because the image of her on her bed, legs spread, finger rubbing her juicy clit, back arched in ecstasy, came alive so vividly in his mind, he had to rub the heel of his palm on himself right then and there.

Drawn by a force beyond his control, he stripped out of his soaking wet clothes, tossed them into the washing machine, and wrapped a towel around his waist, making a beeline for the stairs.

“Hey, where’s Em?” he heard Derek ask.

“Tiana’s taking her shopping,” Ben said.

Slater thunked his head against the wall. No, she wasn’t up there pleasuring herself. But, worse? She was checking off number five on her list. Dress to feel sexy.

He wished he’d never seen her damn list.

—

In two hours Emmie had powered through four stores, slammed back two iced coffees, and relieved her checking account of a couple hundred dollars. She and Tiana had such different taste, and nothing Tiana had chosen had suited Emmie at all. But she’d decided to go with her friend’s judgment, just to try something new.
Why not, right?

As Tiana turned onto her street, Emmie sat up at the sight of her driveway filled with big, sweaty, shirtless guys playing basketball.

Slater
.

Good God, did he stand out from the others. His skin gleamed with perspiration. Not only was he taller, but he was so cut. Hard, well-defined muscles on his arms, thighs, chest. And that perfectly round ass. She knew he worked out regularly, so he’d earned it, but still. A lot of guys worked out, but they didn’t look like Slater. The sight of his powerful body made a rush of desire stream through her.

As Tiana pulled to the curb, Emmie’s gaze narrowed to the waistband of his black gym shorts. She thought she could detect a few black lines from the tribal tattoo, but his torso twisted away.

He played fiercely. No doubt about it, Slater dominated the court. She loved his commanding presence, his confidence. She thought about Alex’s body—fit, certainly, but less defined, less muscular—and wondered why just looking at Slater made her body hum, while she hadn’t really gotten all hot and bothered over Alex.

“You going to get out of the car?” Tiana asked, a smile in her voice.

“Of course.”

“Please tell me you won’t be fantasizing about Slater Vaughn when you’re making out with my brother?”

“Ew, no. I’m not . . .” But then she laughed because it wasn’t like she could lie about it. “I mean, how can you not look at him?”

“Oh, I know. Believe me.”

Emmie rolled up the window of the old Toyota and got out of the car. “And I’m definitely not making out with your brother. It’s a blind date.”