Filthy Beautiful: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2)

by Diamond, Jaine

  I looked at his eyes, then followed his gaze… over to a group of men by the side of the VIP area. I didn’t recognize any of them.

  But then I did.

  Blair.

  I leaned into my boyfriend. “I wasn’t planning to go talk to him. I didn’t even notice he was here.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you worried about?” I slipped my hand onto his thigh and gave him a squeeze. He really didn’t need to worry about me with any other guy. I didn’t have any interest in another man, probably least of all that one.

  “The dude just has a bad vibe,” he said. Off my look, he added, “It’s a guy thing. I can feel it.”

  I smiled a little. “You’re just jealous I talked to him at all.”

  “Yeah. I was. But it’s not just that. Trust me.”

  He looked genuinely concerned, so I gave him another squeeze, and said, “I hear you. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Then he kissed me.

  “What’s that smile about?” he asked when he drew back.

  “We’re really doing this, huh? The boyfriend and girlfriend thing.”

  “Yup.” He sipped his gin and juice. “You want out? Change your mind?”

  “Nope.”

  He set his drink down and slowly licked his lip… and I got a sudden flashback of this afternoon. When, in the middle of fucking me on the closet floor, he’d pulled out and given me that lesson he’d been threatening to give me.

  Blowjobs 101.

  I pressed myself against him. His gaze trailed down to my mouth, so maybe he was remembering, too. “You want to dance?”

  “No.”

  “You want to watch me dance?” I wiggled my body a little against his.

  “Yes. But I’d rather be alone with you while you do it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You want to leave?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go get some air.”

  So we slipped out.

  As we left the VIP area, he pulled on his cap—which was surprisingly effective in keeping people from noticing who he was. And which I took to mean he wanted to be alone with me.

  As soon as the warm night air and the smell from some pizza by-the-slice place hit me outside, my stomach gurgled.

  “I’ve got the munchies,” I told him as he steered me through the crowds on the sidewalk. “Can we eat?”

  “Again?” He chuckled.

  “What? We ate dinner like a thousand years ago. If you buy me cocktails all night, I’m gonna get the munchies.”

  “Alright. What do you want? Cake or something?”

  I threw him a look. “Cake? What is it, my birthday?”

  He shrugged, slipping his arm around me as we crossed the street. “Isn’t that what chicks like for a midnight binge?”

  “I dunno. I’m more of a salty girl myself.”

  “Noted. You want pizza? A burger? Poutine?”

  “Can I have all of those?”

  He chuckled again. “Actually, I’ve got something better.”

  He led me a few blocks over, to a street vender selling giant, soft pretzels sprinkled with rock salt.

  “Holy God,” I said through my first mouthful. “That’s the best soft pretzel I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I know.”

  “Should we grab a cab?” I asked, as he took my hand and we started walking again. But he didn’t seem in any hurry to take me home.

  “Nah. Let’s just walk. It’s nice out.”

  It was. Warmish, even in my little dress. And with Xander at my side… it was the perfect situation for a midnight stroll. We were heading toward the Cambie Bridge, and I glimpsed a fat full moon glowing between the tall buildings.

  “I never knew you were into such things,” I teased him. “Romantic walks in the moonlight…”

  “Yeah. Us and all the other drunks staggering around.”

  He was right. The sidewalks in this neighborhood were flooded with bar-hoppers. But as we worked our way toward the bridge, it thinned out.

  “Hey, Xan?” I ventured, once we’d finished our pretzels and it was easier to talk. “I don’t really know much about having an intimate relationship with a man… So I want you to keep teaching me everything you know.”

  He laughed. “You’ve come to the wrong place if you want relationship lessons.”

  “Then just keep teaching me everything you know about sex. And we’ll figure out the rest, together. It can’t be too hard. We have a lot to work with, between us.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes. Of course we do. I think I’ve got the loyalty thing down. And unconditional love… I know how to do that. I mean, I love Cary and my friends like that. I’m trustworthy and usually pretty patient—”

  “And sweet,” he said. “And fucking persistent.”

  “Okay. That too.” I squeezed his hand in mine. “And you’re devoted. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard at saving someone as you worked at trying to pick up my brother when he fell.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “You’re passionate, too. I’ve seen you on the drums. And I think you’re way more sensitive than you let on.”

  “I’ve been known to cry when girls tell me they love me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was adorable. Don’t be embarrassed. I cry at diaper commercials when I’m PMSing.”

  He grinned. “Now that’s embarrassing.”

  “Glad you think so.” I elbowed him lightly as we walked. “I know you know how to love. I’ve seen it.”

  “I love you,” he said, seriously.

  I smiled. I would never get tired of hearing him say that.

  We walked in silence for a bit, to the bridge and then up onto the walkway along the side of it, heading across the water and out of downtown. In the middle of the bridge, Xander stopped us, and we leaned on the railing, together, enjoying the view.

  The dark water below, reflecting back all the shimmering lights of the condo towers above.

  And in the distance… the land curving away into the darkness. Out there was the expanse of forest at the edge of the city, the Endowment Lands around the university campus.

  Not that I was ever going to that university, but… it reminded me where I was supposed to have been, right now.

  “I don’t want to go to university,” I told him, out of nowhere. “Are you disappointed in me?”

  “How could I be?” He studied me. “I never went to school after high school. But… I had other plans for myself.”

  “So do I.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’d like to take some writing classes. And maybe I can hire an editor to help me polish up my book? And then, who knows… maybe someone would want to publish it.”

  “I’m pretty sure someone would.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a great story about a guy a lot of people still want more of. Pretty much every interview I do, they ask me something about Gabe. And the way you wrote his story… it’s beautiful. And funny, just like he was. You really knew him. You admired him, and you got to just hang out with him and know him when his guard was down. No one else could write his story like you did.”

  My eyes had gone a little glossy at his words. I sniffed and dabbed the corner of my eye with my hand.

  “Courteney Clarke,” he teased, “did you just get the feels?”

  “Shut up.”

  He put his arm around me. I took a breath and said the words that no one in my family seemed to ever want me to say.

  “I loved him.”

  “I know, babe. And anyone who reads that book will know it, too.” He kissed my head. “I loved him, too.”

  He just held me for a moment while we stood there in silence, and I let the pain wash over me as it sometimes did, without notice.

  Then I pulled myself together.

  “And… if the book does well,” I said, gathering my courage to tell him the rest of my dream, “maybe I could write some more? I have all k
inds of notes and little stories I’ve been writing and collecting, about people I’ve met. Mostly in the music industry. I’d like to write the stories of a lot of interesting people. I don’t know why, it just interests me like nothing else does.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Like… Imagine if you died, and no one had a story to tell about you? I think that would the saddest thing of all.”

  “So then tell those stories, Court.”

  “I think I will,” I said, and I really meant it. I’d never actually told anyone all this stuff before, other than Angie. But I meant it. “Are you gonna make me get a real job, though? I have some savings, but I’m not exactly rolling in dough here.”

  “I already told you. I’m covering the mortgage and all the basics, and you don’t have to worry about it. I have money. And I’ve got this really hot lead singer now. I’m pretty fucking sure when we drop a few songs, people will be listening. The money will come. And there’s still money coming in from Alive, from Steel Trap. It all adds up.”

  I looked up into his eyes. They were all bluish tonight, reflecting back the glow off the water. “You think we’ll be okay?”

  “We’ll be okay,” he assured me.

  “Because I really want to stay with you. And I don’t want you to get annoyed that I’m a poor writer type. Like, I can see if the pretzel guy is hiring, if it comes down to it.”

  “I’d rather join a marching band than let my woman sling pretzels.”

  “You’d look so cute in one of those uniforms!”

  “See? There’s always a plus side.”

  Then he kissed me softly. I pressed against him and kissed him back.

  “Babe,” he murmured against my lips. “Stop worrying about money. I’ve got you. You do what you love doing, what you’re good at, and the money will come. I promise you that. We’ll make it work.”

  Well, that was an amazing thing for him to say. It definitely made me feel better.

  But…

  “It’s just… freaky,” I told him. “My parents and my brother always paid for everything, took care of me. I feel like I have so much to learn about being grown-up. I know I’ve yelled at you a lot about what an adult I am… but I’m still learning.”

  “Sweetheart, we’re all still learning.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, and we held each other close. “Then we’ll learn together. You’ve never lived with a girl before, have you?”

  “Nope.”

  “So there may be a scary-deep learning curve on this.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Don’t be scared,” I told him, squeezing him. “I’ve got you.”

  He looked deep in my eyes and said, “I know you do. And I already told you, I’m not letting you go. I don’t care how scary it is or how often you cry at diaper commercials, Courteney Clarke. I’m keeping you.”

  In his arms, I couldn’t imagine a better feeling than being kept by him.

  “I love you, Xander Rush.”

  “Good,” he said, softly. Then his expression grew serious, and he looked into my eyes for a long moment. “Because at this rate… one day, I’m probably gonna bring you somewhere just like this… somewhere beautiful… and I’m probably gonna do something crazy like ask you to marry me.”

  “You are?” I actually hopped a little in his arms, excited. Maybe it should’ve scared me, but it didn’t. At all. “Wait. Crazy?”

  He smiled a little. “Crazy good, I mean.”

  “Really?”

  He kinda rolled his eyes and started walking again, pulling me with him by the hand. “Well, there’s no way I’m letting anyone else marry you, so. Might as well.”

  I grinned. “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When are we coming back here so you can propose?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “This Christmas?” I offered. “It would be magical… Just think of all the colored lights.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  “It might be snowing…. We could bring hot chocolate…”

  He rubbed his beard.

  “No? Summer proposal?”

  He sighed.

  “Yeah. We should wait a bit. One year from now. That would be romantic.”

  “Would it?” he said dryly. Like I was milking all the romance out of it by going on about it.

  Maybe I was.

  “Or we could do it right now…” I suggested.

  He frowned at me. “I don’t even have a ring…”

  “How about a countdown?”

  “Not the countdown again…”

  “Come on. Five, four—”

  He kissed me, hard, stopping me in my tracks.

  I softened against him. “Okay,” I murmured against his lips. “I can be patient, I promise. I just know how much you like me in a white dress…”

  He groaned.

  “Ooh—white lingerie… Do you like those garter things…?”

  “Let’s go home,” he growled.

  I grinned again.

  He took my hand and we kept walking.

  “So, I’ll see you back here, one year from today?” I pressed.

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “And if not?”

  “I go on a sex strike. Obviously.”

  He laughed. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

  “What!? I’d last longer than you would.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Don’t propose. Let’s do the sex strike thing, and see who caves first. Then after that… you can propose.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

  “You love it.”

  He just smiled at me. And I could see the love in his eyes.

  “You know what, Courteney?” he said. “I really do.”

  Then he slung his arm around me. As we reached the end of the bridge, he flagged down a cab for us. He took me home.

  And he didn’t let me go.

  Epilogue

  Summer

  The lights went down, the screams of the crowd went up, and I dropped “This Summer’s Gonna Hurt Like a Motherfucker” at top volume.

  It was my sign-off song at most DJ Summer shows these days.

  As the crowd danced and the house DJ prepared to take over, one of the guys at the side of the stage shone a light at the floor in the dark for me, so I could find the stairs, and I slipped offstage—heading down into the VIP area off to the side, where my guests were enjoying the show.

  I gave out sweaty hugs as people swarmed me. Someone passed me a drink; Ashley. I hugged him and took a swig. On second thought, I pounded it back. It was a crantini and it was incredibly refreshing.

  I leaned into his ear. “Thanks, hon. I needed that.” I kissed him on the cheek and passed him back the empty glass with a grin, like he was the serving staff. Sure, Ash was a rock star, but tonight, he was a guest at my show.

  Then I gave his girl, Danica, a hug.

  “What a great show!” she told me.

  “Thanks, sweetie.” I kissed her on the cheek.

  Then I worked my way through the bodies toward Elle, escorted by a couple of giant bouncers. She was standing on the far side of the VIP area, her platinum-blonde hair making her easy to spot in the dense crowd.

  Along the way, I perused the men on offer. As usual, they filled the VIP area and the club beyond… It was a hot crowd tonight. An incredible turnout.

  I’d miss these shows, in a way, when I wasn’t doing the DJ thing anymore.

  Wasn’t gonna lie; it was fun as hell being the queen of the party. And having men lined up to meet me when I came offstage? Couldn’t imagine that ever getting old.

  But something told me being a rock star wouldn’t exactly suck.

  I’d seen Elle, one of my best friends, ride that shooting star, and from where I was looking, she was doing just fine.

  I wouldn’t mind a piece of what she had.

  Right now, she was surrounded by people, and I was already mentally cherry-picking bo
dies out of the crowd… the ones I was gonna invite backstage with us… and over to my place for the after party.

  Him.

  Him.

  Oh, definitely him…

  No. I stopped in my tracks.

  Definitely not fucking him.

  He stood over by the wall with a group of guys, not far from the exit door I’d be ducking through just as soon as I collected Elle… like he was waiting for me.

  Blair.

  Fuck.

  I turned on my heel. Best to nip this in the bud. Fast.

  I made a sweeping glance of the bodies around me—and grabbed the closest, hottest guy I saw.

  Which just happened to be Flynn.

  Elle’s bodyguard.

  He was carrying a martini as he plowed his way through the crowd, and I was gonna assume it was for Elle, since I’d never, ever seen the man drink on duty.

  Actually… I’d never seen the man drink, period.

  I looked him over. He’d stopped short when I grabbed his arm, almost spilling the drink. He looked at me. His eyes were this amazing, smoky gray-blue color. Sharp features, short, dark hair and a fantastic, trim body in his black clothes.

  Yep. He’d do.

  “I need to borrow you,” I told him, clutching his bicep and tugging him toward me. He didn’t budge all that much, so I met him in the middle, kinda bumping into him.

  He seemed to bristle. The man had some kind of allergy to being too close to me. He’d always been… civil toward me. Too civil.

  And rigidly unavailable.

  So very different from the other security guys who hung around Elle’s band—bikers, mostly. Men who were amenable to breaking the rules, even when on duty. Those men, you could usually get to loosen up a bit and join the party.

  Not Flynn.

  Whenever I got too close, he usually managed to mysteriously fade into the background.

  So he couldn’t do that now, I held on tight.

  Damn, he had nice skin. He was wearing a tight T-shirt, and I had a handful of bare, silky skin over taught muscle. I’d never really touched Flynn’s skin before… other than when he did weird, formal shit like shake my hand, like we’d just met or something.

  He did that often.

  He crooked his head to hear me over the music. “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “You’re mine right now,” I informed him. It came out a little breathier than I meant it, but he heard me.