You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (19 page)

Following her up the stairs, he pulled down the zipper of her dress and pushed the straps off her shoulders. Just before the dress pooled at her feet, he caught it, swept it up over her head. She brought her hands around and unclasped her bra, peeling it off, freeing her breasts. He wanted to see them, touch them, and suck them into his mouth.

His hands pushed underneath her panties and fanned out across her ass. He squeezed her luscious cheeks, and she gasped. Fingers curling in the cotton, he slowly dragged the fabric down her legs.

She stopped, stepping out of them, and he pocketed her panties, then gently bit into the flesh of her ass. When he came up on the step beneath her, he cupped her flushed face in his hands and kissed her. “Shower.”

Her lips parted, a look coming over her that made him wonder if she’d fantasized just as fervently as he about showering together. She balled up all her clothing and tossed the pile into her bedroom before dashing into the bathroom. He stripped as she turned on the faucet. She went in before him, and he yanked the curtain open so he could watch her step under the spray. Watching her tilt her head back, water streaming down her lush curves, his body tightened with need.

“You are so fucking beautiful.”
Mine
. She was finally his. He climbed into the stall, hot water sluiced down his body, and he cupped her breasts, gathering them, lowering his face into them. Greedily, he sucked on her nipple, taking a deep, long pull.

“Oh, my God,” she said, her fingers gripping handfuls of his hair.

He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t touch enough of her flesh at once. He kneaded her ass as his tongue swirled over her nipple.

“Slater, oh.” Her hips rocked restlessly, and he slid a hand between her legs.

Needing to watch her reaction, he pulled back as he slowly, gently slid one finger into her curls, parting them until he found the swollen nub of her clit. He took his time, letting his finger circle languorously around it, watching as her mouth opened, her eyelids fluttered closed, and she started panting, moaning, rocking into his hand, those big, round breasts undulating with her every move.

“Beautiful.” He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the sensitive flesh inside, while his finger slid along her slick length, curving to slip inside her silky heat. She arched into him, her head rolling forward onto his shoulder.

“God, Slater.” Her legs parted, her body trembling, as she rested one hand on his arm. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t think beyond this moment, the steam, the hot spray, her slick heat, and the intense closeness he felt to her, his Emmie.

He sank to his knees, pushing her legs apart, and licked into her. A rush of moisture flowed over his tongue, and he felt the tremors in her legs.

“Slater.” She thrust herself against him, moaning, her fingers digging into his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. “Yes, yes, oh, my God, yes. I’m . . . oh, oh, oh, I—” Her body seized up, her hips frantically jerking with the flicking of his tongue in her slippery, hot folds, and then she cried out, her fingers clamping down hard on his hair. “God.” Her back hit the wall, and she closed her eyes, breathing hard.
“Oh, my God
.
”
Slowly, she lowered herself to the tub floor. Drawing her knees to chest, she rested her head on them.

“Em?”

“Hang on.”

He sat beside her scooping her into his arms.

She trembled. “Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

“Are you still coming?”

“It’s like little aftershocks. Shh. Let me finish.”

He laughed, a feeling of perfect contentment washing over him. “You make me happy.”

Her chin lifted, a look of utter vulnerability on her beautiful, flushed features. “I can’t believe this is happening. I swear, I’ve wanted to feel this way my entire life. I just can’t . . .”

“You can’t believe it’s with me?”

“I can’t believe I get to live it.”

“You’re immune to guys like me.” A shadow crossed his mind—was this a sexual thing for her? Something to do with her checklist?

“I’m desperate for you.”

A weight dropped off him, and he tilted her face to kiss that pretty pink mouth.

They heard a door slam downstairs, and Emmie sat up. “They can’t be home. Why would they be home?”

Voices, laughter, carried up the stairs. “Em? Emmie?”

A knock at the door. “Emmie?” Derek called.

“Yes.” She pushed out of Slater’s arms, scrambled to her feet. “Yes?”

“Get out here. You won’t fucking believe this.”

“Give me a few minutes, okay?” she called. “I’ll be right there.”

“Where’s Slater? He’s not answering his cell.”

Slater slowly got up, watching her.

“How should I know?”

Anger rushed him, hot and mean. He rammed his hand against the faucet to shut it off.

“Well, hurry up and come downstairs.” Derek’s boots thundered down the stairs.

Water dripped off her, and she looked so young with her face free of makeup and her wet hair streaming down her back.

“Don’t be angry, Slater.”

“Don’t be angry? Are you fucking kidding me? After all this?” He held her gaze, letting her know he wasn’t fucking around. “I’m not lying to him. He’s my best friend. Why would you want to anyway? What does it matter if we tell him now or tomorrow or the next day?”

He searched her eyes for an answer. What was the issue? He saw fear, caution, a hint of sadness. “Tell me. Because I’m not playing games here, Em.”

She drew the curtain back, reached for a towel. He grabbed her arm, swung her to him.

“You still think I’m going to move on, don’t you? You don’t want to tell your brother because, in the next day or two or three or four, I’m going to dump you, is that it?”

“Why can’t you give me time? This
just
happened. Can you give me a few minutes here? I’m not an impulsive person. When I get flustered, I need to step back and let my mind calm down so I can think straight.”

“That’s fine, Em. You take all the time you want. In the meantime, I don’t want to be around you and your brother. Because I’m not going to hide in the closet or pretend I wasn’t just in the shower with you.” He leaned closer. “Fucking you with my mouth.” Without even toweling off, he threw open the door and stalked to his room.

—

By the time Emmie came downstairs, a party was in full swing. Music blasted and guests filled the house, spilling into the back and front yards. She found her brother in the kitchen, making drinks. She didn’t see Slater anywhere.

Derek’s face lit up when he saw her. He shouted for the guys to gather around. When they did, he handed each of them a shot glass. He filled a glass of water from the sink for her.

“What’s going on?” She found herself unable to keep the smile off her face.

Everyone lifted their glasses. “Em, I love you,” Cooper said. “I seriously love you.”

“Oh, my God, will you tell me what happened?”

“Snatch is the official opening act for Piper Lee,” Derek said. “We leave the day after Austin City Lights.”

The guys started hooting and hollering. She showed how happy she was for them with smiles and hugs, but inside she was dying. She felt shattered. She’d finally gotten to be with Slater, and it had been a thousand times more incredible than she’d imagined. And now he was leaving.

Just as she’d orchestrated.

Derek whisked her up into his arms. “You did it, Em. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. You deserve this. You’ve
earned
this.”

He set her down, and Cooper poured more shots. “To Emmie!”

“To Emmie!” the guys shouted.

Pulling on his arm, she turned Derek away from the others. “It’s happening.”

His smile broadened. “It is.” But concern flickered in his eyes, dulling his happiness.

She touched his arm. “What’s the matter? What is it?”

He turned his back to the room. “Em, shit. Is this . . . is all this about Slater?”

Fear jolted through her. Did he know? Oh, God, she—

“His songs, his voice, his looks. Is this all happening because of him?”

“Oh, God, no, Derek.” It broke her heart to see the impact their dad still had on him, making him doubt himself when he should feel nothing but pride in his accomplishments. “
No
. You’re the backbone of all his songs. Your rhythms are the foundation. Yeah, he writes them, but you get his grooves on track and keep them there. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer, just held her gaze like she was the shore he was swimming toward. But she had to make him understand.

“You guys are a team,” she said. “He couldn’t do this without you any more than you could do it without him. It’s a partnership. And while you have different strengths, you’re
equally
talented.”

She remembered Slater’s comment about her dad, about the power he had over both of them. “Slater said something to me once that really hit home. He said we both have this driving need to prove to Dad we’re good enough. You want to prove you’re the musician he said you’d never be—and I want to prove that I’m worthy of his love. But we’re wasting all our energy on something we’ll never have because—bottom line—Dad’s a narcissist. And that pretty much means it’s not about us at all. It’s never been about us. And it never will be. Did Dad ever really listen to you play? No, because he needed it all to be about him, so he shut you down with his cruel comments.” She reached for her brother’s hand. “So let it go. Stop trying to prove something to someone who just isn’t worth it. Forget about dad, and go out there and kick some ass.” Just like she was trying to do.

His smile returned, a look of satisfaction spreading across his handsome face. “A narcissist, huh? Pretty good assessment.” He nodded. “So, Slater’s more than just a pretty face?”

“It takes a minute to figure that out, but yeah. I think so.”

Some girl jumped on Derek’s back, squealing, as more strangers streamed into the kitchen. The volume grew louder and louder, until her ears hurt almost as badly as her heart. She watched Derek get sucked into the heart of the celebration.

She was happy for them, dammit. Of course she was. Her gaze landed on the calendar she’d tacked to the wall. Ten days until ACL.

Slater’d leave her in eleven.

Emmie slipped out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs and closing herself in her room. She quickly texted Slater.

Where r u?

She wanted to apologize for hiding their relationship, but how could she? Of course she had to protect herself. But she hated hurting him.

Getting ready for bed, she tried to override the pain by thinking only about the band, all the good things coming their way. All the dreams about to come true.

For her, too. Because no way could Irwin ignore Snatch any longer. Of course he’d sign them now. And then Emmie would get her promotion. Yay. If only she could focus on
that
instead of on Slater leaving.

In fact . . . she picked her phone up off the nightstand and quickly shot off a text to Irwin.

Good news. Just got Snatch on Piper Lee’s tour.

She needed some good news for herself. Drawing a leg underneath her, she sat on the bed, waiting for his response.

It didn’t take long. She stared at the screen heralding Irwin’s text, holding her breath. Hope warred with fear. Would he finally promote her? Come on, he had to. Look what she’d done with her brother’s band. One hand over her pounding heart, she opened his text.

Well done.

She waited. What, hoping he’d come right out and offer her a promotion? She smiled. Irwin didn’t roll like that.
Piper’s A&R guy came to the show. Think he might want to sign them.

He’ll want to see how they do on tour.

He was right, of course. He was right about everything
. What about you? You could sign them.
And then she could get her promotion, move back to New York so she wouldn’t be alone in this house while the guys toured. And Slater? Could she still have him?

Because they’re good or because you want the promotion?

Obvs I want the promotion, but Snatch is good. Really good. You watched the video I sent you, right? Slater Vaughn’s a star, and you know it.

Could be. But, Em, Snatch doesn’t count. It’s your brother’s band. You live with them. Not a discovery.

The hair on the back of her neck snapped to attention. He was playing her. She’d known it all along, in her gut, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d never promote her. He needed her as his personal assistant.
You’re never going to promote me, are you?

She waited for his response, each moment that passed ticked up her anxiety. And then she knew what she had to do. With shaking fingers, she typed:
You know I like working with you, but I’m not coming back without a promotion.

You can’t possibly mean to stay in Texas. They squeeze their feet into pointy-toed shoes. Is that the future you see for yourself? Marrying an elf who spits a stream of saliva into a red Solo cup?

Irwin.

We agreed to 6 weeks. Time is almost up. I need you back here. As they say in Texas, we have a shit ton of work to do.