Wild Flame (The Wild: A Rock Star Romance Book 2)

by Micalea Smeltzer

  Before I can blink, he kisses me.

  It’s a slow gentle kiss, one that strokes the flames in my belly—the ones that seem to burn only for him.

  He’s never kissed me like this before.

  Deliberately.

  This isn’t a moment of passion, the heat of the moment getting to us.

  No, this is more, so much more.

  His tongue seeks mine and my mouth opens beneath his, giving him permission.

  A small sound leaves me, pleading for more.

  Not only has Rush never kissed me like this, no one has. I feel treasured, worshipped, a gift.

  My fingers wind into the collar on his coat, pulling him closer.

  I wish things weren’t confusing between us, but we’re both complicated people and I don’t think it’ll go away until we both open up and let things go.

  It’s easier to keep things bottled up than to trust someone with your deepest secrets and fears. Once you let someone in to the darkest parts of your soul, there’s the chance they’ll never look at you the same. Our demons hurt us every day, but once you unleash them there’s the chance they’ll smother you.

  His lips fall from mine, but we stay huddled close, forehead to forehead, breath to breath. In this moment, in this tiny little space of time, I allow myself for a second to believe things could be real. It’s not something I’ve ever dreamed of—having a boyfriend, a partner, someone to love. Possibly, it’s being pregnant that has me feeling so sentimental, but I know in my heart it’s Rush.

  Once he pulls away, the moment is gone, and I have to go back to telling myself there’s not an us and can never be one.

  “What are you thinking?”

  I look at him and blurt, “I want ice cream.” I have no idea where the words come from, but now that I’ve said them, I do want ice cream.

  He cracks a small grin. “You’re the driver—go get ice cream.”

  “I will,” I say, straightening in the seat.

  I buckle my seatbelt, adjust the mirrors, and put the truck in reverse.

  I feign confidence, but the truth is I’m terrified of wrecking this mammoth truck. It’s a fucking tank—vehicles shouldn’t be allowed to be this large.

  I back out slowly and when I turn to my right, Rush is fighting a grin.

  “Stop laughing at me,” I chide. “I’m doing my best.”

  “I wasn’t laughing.” He raises his hands innocently. “I wasn’t going to comment either.”

  “Sure you weren’t,” I grumble, somehow managing to get the truck backed out without crashing into any cars or pedestrians.

  I adjust the wheel and curve around the lot, braking to wait for traffic to clear enough for me to pull out.

  “Getting a milkshake?” he asks, pointing across the street to Chick-Fil-A.

  “Nope.” I shake my head.

  “What then?” he questions.

  “Dairy Queen,” I answer, licking my lips.

  “I could go for a blizzard,” he admits.

  “Even after two beers, fajitas, and rice?”

  He rolls his eyes as I pull out onto the main roadway.

  “There is always room for dessert. I’d prefer licking that sweet pussy of yours, but I’m assuming it’s not on the menu for tonight.”

  I tap the brakes in shock and someone behind me honks their horn.

  “Rush,” I scold. “Don’t say things like that to me while I’m driving.”

  I place my foot back on the gas, shaking slightly from weakness in my knees. Damn him.

  He chuckles. “It’s not my fault you can’t drive a truck.” I frown at his words. “What?” he asks innocently. “I was only kidding.”

  “No, it’s not that. I was … my car is a piece of shit. I need to get a new car before the baby comes, and a new place—my place is way too small and dirty for a newborn. What about diapers? I’ll need those too, and clothes, formula.” I start to hyperventilate.

  “Pull over,” Rush commands.

  For once, I listen to him, turning into an empty lot of an abandoned building. I put the truck in park and he grabs my face between his hands, forcing me to look at him.

  “Breathe,” he commands, taking a slow breath in and letting it out. “Deep breaths like that. Can you do it?”

  I mimic him.

  “Good girl. Keep breathing.”

  He breathes with me, slowly getting me to calm down and my heart to slow to a normal rate.

  “We have a lot of things to consider with the baby, but we’re in this together, Kira. You’re not alone. You have me.”

  I place one of my hands over his. My fingers shake with aftershocks from my anxiety attack. It came out of nowhere, with only a few thoughts. I guess that’s how most manifest. It takes one simple thing to have to your brain spiraling out of control like a rock rolling downhill.

  “You’re okay,” he says, his blue eyes staring into mine with concern. “You’re here, with me.”

  I nod as I feel the edges of my attack seep away. The fear is still there, in the back of my mind, but for the moment it’s quiet once more.

  “I’m going to take care of you and the baby,” he promises. “Don’t worry.”

  I close my eyes. “Rush,” I breathe out, reluctantly opening my eyes once more. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  His face hardens. “Taking care of you and our baby is an easy promise to make.”

  “Be quiet for a minute,” I plead, feeling the panic creep back in.

  He nods and releases me.

  I lean against the headrest, my face tilted toward the ceiling. I breathe deeply, the way Rush had me do, and try to drown out my thoughts and the sounds of life continuing on around us.

  A few minutes later I open my eyes and look at him.

  “I’m better now. Thank you.”

  He nods. “I’ll always be there for you, Kira. No matter what.”

  Words. They’re just words. Like so many my mother’s revolving door of men said.

  They’d change for her. They loved her. They’d never cheat on her.

  It was all lies—I want to believe Rush, I do, but my heart refuses to give in.

  Abandonment is all I know. I won’t allow myself to think he’ll stay.

  In my experience, no one does.

  But for now, I’ll enjoy his company and nothing more. I can at least indulge in that.

  I put the truck into drive and pull out of the empty lot.

  “I don’t really want ice cream anymore,” I mumble.

  “Get the ice cream,” he commands. “Otherwise, you’ll go back to your place and freak out some more. Get your mind off of it.”

  I crack a small smile. “How do you know me so well?”

  I come to a red light, the glare of the color shining into the car and cascading over his face as I look at him.

  “Because,” he answers slowly, his eyes serious in the darkened cab of the truck, “I pay attention.”

  “You do?”

  He does.

  “I do.” He nods. “I always have. You learn so much when you study the things around you. Have you noticed anything about me?”

  “You hate pickles,” I blurt. “You always pick them off your cheeseburgers.”

  He grins like my answer pleases him. “We get to know each other even when we’re not trying.”

  The light changes to green and I’m forced to turn away from him.

  I turn left and when I reach the next major intersection, Dairy Queen is lit up down to the left.

  Pulling into the lot I tell Rush, “There’s no way I’m navigating this beast through the drive-thru. We’re going in.”

  “Whatever you say.” I park the truck in the front and he adds, “Let me help you out, please? I really need to get a step-rail on this thing. It’s too high for you and you’re pregnant.”

  “I’m not that pregnant.”

  “Yet,” he adds. “It’s okay to let people help you, you know. It doesn’t make you any less strong.
”

  “All this serious talk is giving me constipation,” I warn him.

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re something else, Kira.”

  He hops out and I decide that I will let him help me out. The last thing I need to do is injure myself trying to prove a point only to prove his instead.

  He swings my door open and offers his hand to me.

  The lights from the Dairy Queen sign reflect off his skin, making him glow and look like some otherworldly creature.

  “It’s only a hand, Kira.”

  I smile and take his hand—but for once, I wasn’t hesitating because I didn’t want to hold his hand, because of what it signifies. Instead, I wanted to look at him. I don’t know what I was searching for, or maybe I do and I can’t admit it.

  He closes the door once I’m out and my feet are planted firmly on the ground.

  I lock the truck and he releases my hand, only so he can hold the door open for me.

  We’re not a couple. I remind myself.

  The lines are blurring—they have been for a long time, and even my weeks of ignoring him did nothing to reestablish them.

  We get in line behind a couple of high school students and Rush looks at the menu.

  “You’re going to make me get fat,” he warns, rubbing his flat stomach.

  I roll my eyes. “Your nose grew ten inches, Pinocchio.”

  “You know what grows more than ten inches?” Before I can retort he lowers his head to my ear and whispers in a dramatic tone, “My cock.”

  I roll my eyes. “You would say that.”

  He shrugs, straightening. “You gave me the perfect opening. It would be a tragedy for me to resist.”

  “Mhmm,” I hum, as the kids in front of us get their ice cream and move to a table.

  We step up and I immediately say, “I want a small chocolate chip cookie dough blizzard.”

  “And for you?” The bored looking teenage girl behind the register asks Rush, not even looking at him, but as she raises her gaze her cheeks blossom with color.

  I try not to laugh, because I understand the effect he can have on people. Forget about how hot he is, his height alone has people staring.

  Once, when the two of us were out I heard a woman whisper that she’d climb him like a tree. I grinned and mouthed, “I did,” at her, adding on a wink.

  “I’ll have the New York cheesecake blizzard,” he says, looking at the menu, totally unaware of the girl staring at him with her mouth wide open. She can’t be more than sixteen—seventeen at the most. “A small too,” he adds.

  “Only you would get the one with strawberries in it,” I joke.

  He looks down at me, his blond hair sweeping over his forehead. “I can’t help it that I like strawberries in my dessert. You wouldn’t know what a fruit is if it bit you in the ass.”

  “Point taken. I’m buying.” He opens his mouth to protest. “No, Rush,” I say firmly. “You always buy, and I want to treat you for a change.”

  He smiles at that, and I know he’s pleased by the gesture. “Okay, I can’t argue with that.” He sweeps his hand forward. I pull my debit card out of my phone case and hand it to the girl, who manages to swipe it and hand it back to me with the receipt, all without taking her eyes off Rush.

  Finally she finds her voice. “A-Are you R-Rush Daniels?”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” he replies.

  “Holy shit,” she cries. “Can I get a selfie? An autograph? Oh my God, my friends are never going to believe this. We saw you play at Griffin’s and we’re obsessed with The Wild now. Your band is amazing and my God can you drum.”

  Rush gives a chuckle. “Sure, whatever you want.”

  “Thank you so much,” she shrieks with much more enthusiasm than she had two minutes ago. She yanks her phone out of her pocket and holds it out. He leans over the counter into the picture with her. After she’s gotten her fill of photos, he signs the slip of paper she hands him.

  Another worker hands me the two Blizzards, watching in confusion as the young girl continues to fawn all over Rush.

  “I’ll say goodbye before I leave,” he assures her with a wink. “My ice cream is melting.”

  It’s totally not.

  He joins me, placing his hand at my waist and guiding me around the corner where the girl won’t be able to watch us.

  He picks a table beside the large glass window that overlooks the busy street and the strip mall on the other side.

  I take a seat and slide his monstrosity he calls ice cream across the table to him.

  Digging my spoon into my Blizzard, I make sure to get several chunks of cookie dough.

  “Mmm,” I hum. “I love cookie dough.”

  He grins, pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “I think you just like ice cream in general.”

  “This is true,” I agree. There’s no sense in arguing. “Once, when the power went out in my apartment I used it as an excuse to eat all my ice cream—you know, so it wouldn’t go to waste,” I explain dramatically, gesturing wildly with the spoon in my hand. “Suffice to say, the power was only out for thirty minutes. I still ate all the ice cream anyway.”

  He laughs, tossing his head back. He seems free right now, untroubled. Too often there are shadows in his eyes, as if there’s an ever-lingering worry he can’t shake off.

  “You would,” he says, grinning as he digs into the ice cream for another bite.

  “I have a sweet tooth. It’s not a crime.”

  He chuckles. “I never eat this much ice cream, ever—but every time I’m with you somehow I get roped into getting some.”

  “It’s a talent,” I joke. “It’s my goal in life to have everyone stoop to my level. The ideal life would include ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  “You might go into a sugar coma.”

  I glance to the side as a chair squeaks and a couple sits down, side by side. They’re laughing and being all lovey-dovey, hand holding, kissing—it’s all so much. I’m ridiculously unromantic.

  Looking back at Rush I say, “At least I’d be happy while I’m eating it.”

  “When is your next doctor’s appointment?” he asks, and I’m jolted back to reality. Laughing, joking with him, for a minute it felt like how things were before. But now there’s the reality of us having a baby together.

  I stare across the table at him—at his messy blond hair, deep blue eyes, slightly crooked nose and full lips, to his chiseled cheekbones and heavy brow. There’s more stubble on his cheeks than usual, and… He’s the father of my child. No matter what, he’s always going to be in my life in some way now. Even if he walked away and never looked back, he’ll always be in the child we made.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he questions, confused. “Is there something on my face?” He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth.

  “No, sorry. I zoned out,” I lie. “Um, my next appointment is at twelve weeks, so in three weeks I go again.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “You … why?” My brows knit together in confusion. “It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

  He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Because, I want to see my baby. Is that so crazy to believe?”

  I let out a breath, and stare down at the chunks of cookie dough and chocolate chips in my ice cream. Slowly, I raise my tired eyes to his and give him a truth, a small one, but a truth nonetheless.

  “I grew up with my dad being uninvolved, and anyone my mom dated was either an asshole or a pervert. It’s … this is different for me. I didn’t expect you to be involved—it’s not a reflection on you but me. I guess … I’ve learned to expect nothing, because then it doesn’t hurt.”

  He rubs a hand over his jaw, taking in my explanation. After a moment, he says, “We can pretend all we want not to feel, that nothing can hurt us, but it’s a dirty fucking lie. It hurts anyway.” He looks out the window, at the traffic beyond, but I know he’s not seeing it—not really.

&nbs
p; I guess we’ve both admitted small truths tonight.

  We finish our ice cream and he tosses both the cups in the trash. I wait by the door, watching with a small smile as he says goodbye to the cashier.

  As we walk out into the cold air I pause and look up at him. “You just made her whole year.”

  He gets a cocky grin. “Have you seen me? I made her whole fucking life. She’s always going to tell the story of the time she served Rush Daniels ice cream.”

  I shake my head. “I’m glad to see your ego is firmly intact.”

  “Always.” He winks. “I can drive now.”

  I shake my head. “Not a chance.”

  He sighs in exasperation. “I had two beers like an hour ago. I’m fine.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Is that the kind of philosophy you’ll have when our child is involved—which it already is, considering I carry this thing wherever I go?”

  “I see your point,” he admits defeat.

  The drive back to my apartment is a short one. I park on the street a block down, since everything was full that I could pull into and I was not going to attempt to parallel park this beast.

  Shutting the engine off I hold the keys out to him. He opens his palm and I drop the keys into them.

  “I’ll walk you back,” he says as he unclicks his seatbelt.

  “It’s barely a block. I’ll be fine,” I assure him.

  “Kira,” he says sternly, and my lips part in surprise. “I’m walking you back.”

  “O-Okay,” I stutter in surprise.

  I wait for traffic to clear before getting out of the truck. I meet him on the sidewalk and he shortens his stride so we walk beside each other. His hands are shoved into his pockets and the collar of his dark blue peacoat is pulled up to protect against the raging wind.

  We reach the stairs to my place and he follows me up.

  I slide the key into the door and turn to him. I’m not sure if he expects to be invited in, or if I even want to. I’m confused when it comes to him and it’s bothersome.

  He looks down at me, the slightest tilt to his full lips like he knows what I’m thinking.

  “Goodnight, Kira.” He bends and presses a kiss to my cheek but purposely kisses nearly half of my mouth while he’s at it. With a wicked grin he steps down one step. “See you.”