How sweet of him to ask. Most guys didn’t think of things like that. “Room temperature, please.” I offered a small smile as my gaze followed him to a spout at the sink. He filled the glass and handed it to me. “Thanks.” I took a gulp and set the glass down. “For the water and for taking care of me.”
He shifted his weight and I could swear he was closer to me now.“The nap must’ve done you some good, because this is the first time I’ve seen you without a frown.” He reached out an index finger and brushed the space between my brows. “You’re even prettier now.”
I peered up at him midgulp. Seriously? I knew he wasn’t coming on to me. After how unpleasant I’d been, he couldn’t possibly see me that way. He was probably just trying to encourage more good behavior. I vowed to stay nice, no matter how hard resentment toward him reared up and kicked me in the ass. I swallowed the last sip and handed him the glass. “Thanks.”
A smiled played at the corner of his mouth as he took the glass from me. He set it on the counter behind me and his shoulder brushed mine. A billion little shivers danced along my skin and I drew in a breath. He closed the small space, leaning in toward my ear.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not daring to look at him. His face was much too close to mine.
“Experimenting.”
I cleared my throat, hoping my voice sounded natural and unconcerned. “Well, experiment somewhere else. Go over there.” I nodded toward the other side of the kitchen.
“Why don’t you go over there?”
That was a very good question. I instinctively met his gaze, trying to figure out what the hell he was up to. But my brain started shutting down when I felt the hard muscles of his thighs against mine. “I was here first.”
His smile widened and he used his thumb to brush a stray hair off my cheek. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? It’s kind of cute how you try to pretend you’re not mysteriously drawn to me.”
I licked my lips. He was right. It didn’t necessarily follow that he needed to know how right he was. For one thing, that would be humiliating. Second, if he returned even half the lust for me, we were in big, big trouble. I could still speak the truth without confirming his assumption. “Sebastian, I swear on my mother’s grave that I absolutely do not like you.”
He pressed his lips together and brought his other leg forward, bringing his body flush against mine. “I don’t like you either. So what are we going to do about it?”
I flattened my palms against his stomach, but my brain somehow misfired and instead of pushing him away, my fingers splayed over his muscles. The pressure of his fingertips at my hips compelled me closer and I held my breath. No way would he kiss me. I mean, I was crabby, pregnant and hormonal. Plus, he’d outright admitted to not liking me. Not that I could blame him. Right now, any woman in a ten-mile radius had to be more attractive than me. So what was he up to?
I lifted my chin to meet his smoldering gaze, but my eyes drifted to his lips. He inched closer and I squirmed until I was up against the counter facing him. His hands skipped upward to press against my waist, then spread out as if they couldn’t bear not to cover every inch of me. I hadn’t been touched like that by a man since… well, since my drunken hook-up with Sebastian two months before. I melted against him, hooking the finger of one hand through his belt loop and the other sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck.
Keeping his gaze trained on me, he levered his hips against mine so slowly I could feel everything from his hip to the zipper on his pants. My mouth parted and his mouth crashed down on mine. I devoured the kiss with a hunger that consumed me. This was nothing like the kisses I’d had with him before. This was loneliness and need, betrayal and fear, all rolled up with a healthy dose of lust and hate. I stretched up on my tiptoes and my arms overlapped around his neck, squeezing him closer. Our tongues tangled and the craving for more burned through my soul.
He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips. “I was right. You’re like liquid fire.”
But I hadn’t been hot enough for him to remember me before, so why would I mean anything to him this time? My eyes stung and I dipped my head to avoid his gaze. I relaxed my grip on him and flattened my feet on the ground. Dropping my arms to my side, I went limp in his.
“Violet? What just happened? Where did you go?”
I laughed once, a harsh sound I didn’t recognize. “Really, Sebastian? We don’t even like each other.” Turning, I angled my head away from him. My hair fell forward and hid my face. “This is a recipe for disaster. And don’t forget I have a child to think about now. I need to stay focused.”
He tunneled a hand through his hair, blew out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I should’ve known he’d give up so easily. And had he really just apologized for kissing me? My heart thudded louder, my pulse thundering in my ears. “I should get going.” I circled back to the bedroom, grabbed my purse and shouted a goodbye, then swept over the stairs and down the short path to my car.
Cursing my twice-broken heart, I scolded myself for falling for him again. The first time, I’d been completely justified for judging him since he’d forgotten all about me. This round, he’d been fully aware of his every move. He wanted me and he had acted on it, but when I protested, he’d had the decency to pull back. Rather than push me to continue our make-out session or progress to his bedroom, he did the decent thing and admitted I was right. But I hated being right about us not being a good fit. I hated even more that he had agreed.
But that wasn’t his fault. You feel what you feel and I couldn’t fault him for it when he was actually a pretty good guy. Except for earlier in the evening when he’d been messing with my mind, he’d been gentlemanly, caring, and genuinely sweet. I knew he wasn’t the loser I’d tried to make myself believe him to be.
Or maybe our new connection growing inside me changed my views of everything. Maybe I saw what I wanted to see. Whatever, just because he was curious and wanted to experiment with me didn’t mean he actually felt anything real for me. And why would I want him to? I’d already allowed our one night together to throw off my eight-year plan. I couldn’t allow my infatuation with him to consume me for the next few months. He wasn’t right for me. I needed to get that through my thick, red head.
At the stop sign, I wiped my tears and renewed my vow to lower my expectations when it came to Sebastian. I wanted so much more from a man—a real relationship. Sebastian would never get serious about me.
Unless he knew about the baby.
I had an inkling he would offer to do the “right” thing and then try to make it work with me for the baby’s sake. The thought of him entering into a pity relationship and not truly loving me made me want to vomit. Not wanting to drive with my emotions going haywire, I pulled over to the curb.
I couldn’t tell Sebastian he was the father, not for a while anyway. All I could do was get to know Sebastian and see where we went. Oh, Lord, I was all over the place. I’d told myself over and over that I didn’t want him, but then I got angry and frustrated with him for not returning my feelings.
If I were to be brutally honest with myself, I’d already fallen for Sebastian that night two months ago. And getting to know him as a sober man only deepened my feelings. My bitterness toward him now was simply that of a scorned lover. Well, I’d just have to get over it, let the humiliation and bitterness go. Because if I didn’t, having a baby with him would be so much more difficult. And I didn’t need the extra stress.
I had the next several weeks to create some kind of foundation with Sebastian and get over myself. Our baby needed his dad. Sebastian could completely change his mind when faced with reality and decide to opt out of the baby’s life. But I refused to be the cause of that choice. From now on, I’d find the will to forgive him. Whatever inappropriate and impractical affection I had for Sebastian, I’d redirect to the baby.
My hollow heart gradually filled with love for my baby as I dreamed of a happy life for him. Or
her. I just had to forget the past and my gross lapse of judgment with Sebastian, and get through my infatuation with him. And since I didn’t have anything scheduled for Sebastian for two or three days, I had time to regroup and get my head together.
I could do this.
Chapter Nine
Sebastian
The next afternoon, I sat in bed with my laptop and couldn’t get Violet out of my mind. Or her long, red curls and her green eyes, and especially those soft, plump lips. I scrolled through her premade tweets, squashing the urge to create some of my own. It was my Twitter account, my life. Why did I have to do every little thing she told me to? I was a grown man and had been thinking for myself since I’d turned eighteen and bailed from my parents. Aside from the last three years of partying hard, I’d done okay. I was sober now. I could handle myself again.
But if I did anything publicly that veered off Violet’s plan, she’d be all over me. Hell, she’d probably drive all the way to my house to chew me out. I didn’t want her to make an extra effort if she was too tired. On the other hand, if she was too tired to leave my house, she’d be forced to stay. We didn’t have any PR activities planned for a few days, which meant I wouldn’t be seeing her until we attended whatever event was next on her list... unless I did something that forced her to come over.
Though I suspected I’d regret it somehow, I composed a tweet, attached a picture and clicked the send button. I wondered how long it would take for her to notice.
By the time I’d entered the last of my recent lyrics into the computer and emailed them to Liam, twenty minutes had passed. Just as my stomach began to growl, my phone dinged and I checked the screen. Violet had sent me a text: You’d better be home because I’m on my way.
I snickered and strolled into the kitchen to take out the steaks I’d been marinating, unlocking the door for Violet on my way. No woman had ever turned down one of my steaks.
But first, tea. I plopped some ginger shavings into a pan of water to simmer on the stove.
Once I turned on the flame under two skillets, I chopped fresh thyme and garlic, then diced several potatoes and poured it all into a skillet. The pan sizzled and I lowered the flame. After I chopped the lettuce, I added cherry tomatoes, dried cranberries and a mix of walnuts, pecans and pumpkin seeds. Then I made up the dressing with balsamic vinegar, olive oil and maple syrup. I tossed the ingredients together and set the salad in the fridge to chill.
Just before I was about to throw the steaks on, I went out to the garden and picked some red peonies, pink phlox, white asters and a few black-eyed Susans, then floated them in a shallow glass bowl of water, silently thanking my gardener. I set the bowl in the middle of the dining room table, then threw the two steaks into the skillet and turned down the heat. I laid out the flatware, steak knives, salt and pepper shakers, and napkins on the table.
When I lifted the lid to check the tenderness of the asparagus, a knock sounded at the door. “Come in!”
She did just that, storming in and practically coming to a screeching halt as she inhaled deeply. “What’s that smell?”
She couldn’t find out I’d set her up. “Steak and potatoes. There’s plenty if you’re hungry.” I sliced some lime wedges and placed them on the edge of a mug, then drizzled in some maple syrup. I poured the boiling water, careful not to let the ginger slivers fall into the cup. I handed it to her.
“What’s this?”
“Ginger tea. It’s good for upset stomachs.”
She just stared at me, then slowly set the mug down, her brows wrinkling in the middle. “What are you up to?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I’m hungry, so I thought I’d throw on a steak and salad. Then I decided to fry up some potatoes. After you texted that you were on your way, I figured I should make sure there’s enough for you too, since it’s rude to eat in front of others. And people usually like liquids with their meals, thus the ginger tea.”
She blinked, watching me flip the steak over. “Maybe I’m not hungry.”
“It’s all the same to me.” After scooping up a helping of the potatoes and heaping them on the plates, I lifted a corner of the steak while peering at her over my shoulder. “How do you like your steak?”
Her eyes glazed over as she ogled the food. “Medium.”
“Great. This one’s yours.” I plucked it out of the pan and laid it on one of the plates, while I let the other steak cook a little more. I carried the plate to the table, grabbing the bowl of salad on my way. I darted back into the kitchen for something to use to serve the salad, settling on a giant spoon. Using it to stir it a bit more to freshen up the dressing on the lettuce, I scooped up a bunch and set it on her plate.
I dashed back into the kitchen, dragged my own steak onto the plate, then headed back to the table. “Have a seat and dig in,” I told her.
She hesitated, remaining standing as her fingers curled over the back of the chair.
I took my first bite of the steak and my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head. “Mm.”
Violet slid the chair out and sat, glancing at me before scooting the chair in. “You didn’t set this up?”
“Do you mean is there some sinister plot to feed you?” I chuckled. “You should eat before it gets cold.”
She snatched the knife at her side and carved a small piece from the steak. As soon as the meat hit her mouth, she moaned and began to chew. “Oh, my God,” she said as she cut another piece. “What do you have in here, crack? It’s amazing.”
I grinned and scooted the mug toward her. “Don’t forget the tea.”
She shot me a suspicious glance, but as soon as she returned to her plate, I was long forgotten. Watching her enjoy her food with such intensity warmed me, made me feel more whole than I had in three years. I immediately began plotting a way to get her over for dinner tomorrow.
“So what’s the deal with the baby’s father? What’s he like?” I asked, taking another bite of my own steak.
Her head bobbed side to side as she finished chewing. “I don’t know him very well. At first glance, one might think he’s a bit on the wild side, but I think deep down he might be a pretty good guy.”
Jealousy wormed its way into my head and I pushed it away. I had no rights over Violet or her baby. I didn’t want those rights and I didn’t even like Violet. Okay, maybe I did. A little. Between my urge to wrap her hair around my hand and yank her against me and my desire to get my tongue in her mouth again, it was hard to tell what I felt, other than lust.
“Do you see him much?” I asked, trying to act like I was making casual conversation instead of fishing for information on my competition.
“I’ve seen him a few times since the incident.”
I laughed. “You mean when he knocked you up?”
She nodded, as she salted her potatoes. “This is so good.”
“Do you like him?”
She drew in a long, shaky breath. “Sometimes. I’m not sure I should though. He’s not the kind of guy I imagined myself having children with.”
I muscled through the desire to find out who this guy was and mark my territory. Maybe having Violet over had been a bad idea. Instead of helping me through whatever this was, I found myself wanting her more. I wanted to show her why she should consider me as a better option than some guy who got her pregnant and who probably didn’t want her half as much as I did.
I was getting way ahead of myself. Seriously, I barely knew her. “Your tea. Drink.”
She rolled her eyes, but downed the rest of it. “That’s pretty tasty, actually. You used fresh ginger, didn’t you? Will you tell me how to make it?”
“Yeah. You’re supposed to add lime and honey. Except I used maple syrup instead, because some people believe honey is bad for pregnant women.”
Her eyes narrowed again. “You researched this for me?”
“Definitely not. I remember Faith mentioning something about being careful with honey when she was pregnant. Could be a myth, but I figured better to
be on the safe side.”
“Thank you. It was really lovely.” Her smile lit up her eyes and my heart thumped louder. What was it about her that drew me in?
She pushed her plate away and leaned back. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that good.”
“I was going to make a cappuccino, if you’d like one. I have some organic decaf, so you don’t have to worry about it keeping you up tonight.” I grabbed her plate and layered it over my own. “Maybe a little chocolate on top?”
“It sounds unbelievable.” She sighed. “Careful or I’ll be showing up every day to eat.” She laughed as if it were a joke. Little did she know… “Need some help?” she asked.
I glanced at her over my shoulder as I set out the coffee and turned on my espresso machine. “Not really. It’s a one-man job.”
She leaned against the stove about a yard away. “So let’s talk about the Fat Boy post on Twitter.”
I raised one brow at her. “You mean the motorcycle.”
“Whatever. We agreed you’d only use the posts I gave you.”
Fortunately, I’d already prepared a response. “It’s a motorcycle, Violet. Just a motorcycle.”
“No.” She shook her head. “In your case, it’s only just if it’s a puppy or a house. But motorcycles won’t help your rep, not right now. They don’t exactly scream stable or tame.”
I stopped the machine at about a shot, then began steaming the milk. After adding milk to the cup, I spooned in foam, then sprinkled chocolate on tip. Taking a toothpick, I moved the powder over the foam until it looked like a tree. I grabbed a matching saucer, and slid it and the mug along the counter until it was next to her and I was inches away. “Hey, it’s just a motorcycle,” I said softly. “And I can’t be limited to those tweets. They’re not me and you can only do that so long before people figure out it’s fake. You gotta let me put some of myself into whatever I’m supposedly saying.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and began shaking her head. “We can’t take the chance that you’re going to say something crazy, something that undoes all our hard work.”
The Baby and the Rock Star (Rock Star Kisses Book 2) Page 8
