“It is. Reminds me of weekends at the beach house with my dad when I was growing up. I loved taking out a boat and spending hours on the water.”
“You’re close with him?”
He shrugged. “We’d had our ups and downs. For a long time, I struggled to live up to his expectations.”
“You?” I asked incredulously. “How is that possible?”
Oliver chuckled, grabbing the metal railing in front of us and leaning his weight back. “He’s spent his entire career on the business side of the music industry. I think he wanted me to be a musician before I was even born. It wasn’t until Ritual Disruption took off that he finally told me he was proud of me.” There was a tension in his voice that made me think there was more to that story.
“I can relate,” I said. “I’m an expert at not living up to my parents’ expectations.”
He looked down at me, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “I don’t believe you.”
I snorted, despite the warm feeling that spread through my chest at his words. “I’m serious. I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“What possible reason could there be for that?” Oliver asked, turning so that he was facing me.
“Cole and my parents are artists, and they have these impressive talents, while I’m just… I don’t know. There’s nothing special about me.”
I regretted the words as soon as they spilled out. He was listening with such rapt attention that I’d forgotten about the cool image I should’ve been trying to cultivate. The urge to tell him what was bothering me had taken precedence.
Oliver’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “You’re wrong, Ivy. You’re very special. I knew it as soon as I saw you last night.”
My pulse quickened. “You did?”
He nodded. “There are other ways to stand out besides artistic talent.”
“What other ways?”
He raised his hand to my face and he dragged the back of his palm against my cheek. “Your beauty. You’re stunning, Ivy. Don’t you know that?”
Heat spread over my cheeks. I most certainly didn’t know that. Sure, some days I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw, but for someone like Oliver to think I’m stunning? It didn’t feel real.
Yet his eyes were so open. He was either being honest, or he was an incredibly skilled liar. I tipped my chin down. “Th-thank you.”
“And there’s something else.”
My gaze landed back on his face. “There is?”
“There’s a beautiful innocence to you,” he said, his voice dropping low. “When I saw you last night, it was like someone had opened a window and let in a gust of delicious, fresh air. It’s not often that I meet someone like you at those parties. This life it…corrupts people. Last night, it may have looked like everyone was having fun, but underneath the glitzy exterior, they’re just a lot of broken people. People like Jamie.”
I swallowed. “You’re not like that.”
“No, I’m not. And neither are you.” A beat passed and then he leaned closer. “You felt it too, didn’t you? The pull between us.”
My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe it. My loftiest hopes were all coming true in real time.
“Say it, Ivy.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Tell me you felt it.” Oliver took one big step, eating up the distance between us, and lifted his hands to cradle my face.
“Yes,” I breathed. What more was there to say?
Oliver’s lips parted, and his emerald gaze dropped to my mouth.
He was going to kiss me.
The moment stretched like a decadent caramel candy, and as he lowered his face toward me, one clear thought took dominance in my brain. I didn’t want to forget a single thing about this. Not the sounds of the cars passing a dozen feet behind us, not the smells of the water and the late summer blooms, and most certainly not the way his body was slowly molding into mine.
And then his lips pressed against mine. I was kissing Oliver Straits. The guitarist of Ritual Disruption. The unattainable rock god. The man who everyone desired, but who somehow, miraculously, wanted me.
My brain short-circuited. At least that’s what it felt like when all the sensations I was tracking exploded, and my body froze. I couldn’t make my mouth move against his. I stood frigid in his arms, like a wooden doll. After a few seconds of getting nothing out of me, Oliver pulled back, his brows pulled together in a confusion.
Oh my God.
His face twisted in disappointment, and he dropped his hands from my face. “I’m sorry. Maybe that was a mistake.”
“No. No!” I rushed to protest. “I— I just—” I didn’t know what I could say that wouldn’t reveal my inexperience, or how strong of an effect he was having on me. So I did something uncharacteristically bold.
I dropped my shopping bags right on the ground, lifted my hands to tangle them in his soft hair, and pulled his face down to mine.
This kiss, I was determined not to screw up.
I moved my lips against his, hoping he could sense my desire but not my desperation. For a moment, he let me kiss him, and then he joined in on the act. He snaked his tongue between my lips, and I parted them open for him, excited by the thought of imminently knowing how he’d taste.
Sweet and minty. Perfect.
This was the kiss of my dreams. Not the slobbery abomination I’d received after that one date, and certainly not the merciless assault on my mouth from Jamie. In my mind, this was my first real kiss, the one I’d write about in my diary and wax poetic to my friends.
We kissed and kissed and kissed until he finally pulled away and placed his hands on my hips.
“Wow,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Who taught you how to kiss like that?” he asked, his rosy mouth curving into a smirk. His lip ring glistened in the sun.
I was a ball of adrenaline and nerves. He must’ve kissed hundreds, if not thousands of women in his life. I wasn’t about to tell him I’d only kissed two men.
“I don’t know,” I told him, dropping my gaze to the ground even as a smile tugged at my lips.
Suddenly, he moved one palm to the back of my head and buried his fingers in my hair. “Look at me,” he said, pulling firmly on the strands to make me lift my face back up to his. I felt a prickle of pain, and for a moment, the differences between us flickered through my mind—his age, his fame, his experience…
“Maybe I can teach you some other things as well,” he murmured, his eyes hooded and dark.
I gave him a shaky smile. If he wanted to teach me things, I could be an eager student.
Oliver let go of my hair and twined his fingers with mine. “I need to head back to the venue,” he said. “Sound check. Are you going to be watching the show tonight?”
“Yeah, from backstage,” I told him as we started to walk.
“That’s not the right way to watch a show,” he said in a chastising tone. “I want to see you down there in the audience.”
“I’m not great with crowds,” I admitted. “It’s probably going to be crazy down in the pit when you guys come on.”
We turned down the street that led back to the venue. “I have an idea,” Oliver said. “There’s a way for you to watch us without being in the crowd.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I’ll show you when we get back.”
It was only when we got in sight of the venue that he slipped his hand out of mine. “Let’s keep what happened at the lake between us for now,” he said. “I want to keep getting to know you but I’m afraid that after what happened with Jamie, your brother might not think it’s a good idea. It wouldn’t be the first time someone assumed I’m as bad as my bandmate by association. Our secret?”
Irritation at Jamie prickled the back of my neck. He almost ruined this tour for me, and I wouldn’t let him ruin this. “Of course. I understand.”
Oliver’s lips pulled back into a smile, the one that made my knees weak. “You’re a good girl, Ivy. I like you a lot.”
My cheeks warmed at his heady admiss
ion. “I like you, too.”
He worried the ring on his lip with his teeth and nudged his head in the direction of the venue. “C’mon. Let me show you where you’ll be able to watch us from tonight.”
We walked past the parked busses, some of the roadies nodding at Oliver when they saw him approach. I was pulling out my all-access pass when the shouts erupted. A group of fans had spotted Oliver from behind a fenced-in waiting area.
“Oliver!”
“Olly!”
“Can I get a picture?”
“Where’s Jamie?”
“Shit,” Oliver said under his breath. “Go on in. I’ll sign a few things and meet you inside.”
I was so stunned by the sudden commotion that all I could do was nod and rush through the doors.
Inside, roadies and venue staff were rapidly passing through the lobby, talking over walkie-talkies and lugging equipment around. I didn’t see anyone from Bleeding Moonlight. The guys must be back stage or back on the bus if their soundcheck was over. I walked toward a few sofas in the corner, away from the thorough traffic, and sat down to wait for Oliver.
Five minutes went by. Ten. At around the fifteen-minute mark, a door on the right opened with a loud sound, and I jumped in my seat.
It was Jamie. He saw me at the same time as I saw him.
Shit.
He looked tired, but there was a clarity to his eyes that hadn’t been there the last two times we’d encountered each other. His hair was still wet from what I presumed must be a recent shower. I couldn’t say that he looked much better than before, but when he angled his jaw toward me, for just a moment, I saw a clear resemblance to one of the photos of him I’d seen.
He’s wasting himself away.
I felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. It was a sad situation, but after everything Oliver had told me about Jamie, I knew the singer wasn’t the victim. His addiction was hurting the people around him, and if he truly wanted to get better, he would’ve checked himself into a facility. I pitied him, sure, but I also knew that he must be an enormously selfish person to do the things he was doing.
Jamie didn’t move for a long moment. He stared at me like he had last night at the club, and goosebumps erupted across my flesh. I wasn’t scared of him, but he made me uneasy.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more awkward, he veered around the sofas and sat down across from me.
My eyes grew wide.
“Hey Ivy,” Jamie said in his velvety voice, and memories of the stolen kiss flooded my vision. It wasn’t fair that a guy like him had a voice like that. He dragged his hands up and down his jean-clad thighs. “I, uh— Well, I—”
Was he…nervous? I recognized the physical signals given that I displayed them myself frequently. His knees were bouncing and he was looking at the ground. This seemed at odds with the guy who’d accosted me in the bathroom.
“Look, I wanted to—”
“Hey! Sorry about the wait,” Oliver’s voice sounded from nearby, and I bolted from the sofa, eager to extract myself from the uncomfortable interaction with Jamie.
Oliver halted his approach when he saw his bandmate sitting there. His brows pulled together. “Everything okay?” The question wasn’t directed at me.
Jamie cleared his throat. “We have to be on stage in five. I need—”
“I’ll be right there, just going to show Ivy up to one of the balconies,” Oliver cut him off and shot me a tense smile.
Jamie looked back and forth between Oliver and I, narrowing his eyes. He rose from the sofa, walked toward Oliver, and stopped when he reached his side. For a few seconds, he spoke quietly into Oliver’s ear, while the guitarist’s expression stayed carefully neutral.
“What was that all about?” I asked, glaring at the back of the lead singer’s head as he moved away. I felt like I’d missed some hidden subtext in that exchange.
Oliver let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “He said he’s way too sober to play a good set tonight. Last night, after I dragged him out of the club, I told him he needs to lay off the drugs, or I’ll tell the record label to cancel this goddamn tour. He’s not happy about it.”
I frowned. “You’d really do that? Cancel the tour to try to help him?” Jamie was lucky to have a friend like Oliver, and he probably didn’t even know it.
“Sure, I would,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “But hey, we need to get going. I only have a few minutes.”
We weaved past the equipment still scattered in the lobby and went up a staircase to the large second-floor balcony. From here, I got my first real view of the venue, and my jaw dropped. “Wow. This place is stunning.”
Spinning around, I took in the ornate roof, the carved arches of the small balconies lining the perimeter of the space, and the Buddhas sitting atop two altars bordering the stage. I felt like I was in a mystical temple rather than a concert hall. Everything was radiant and embellished with unexpected details.
“This upstairs area will be full today since it’s a sold-out show, but I got the manager to let you use one of those.” Oliver pointed to one of the tiny balconies off to the side. “They usually keep them closed. You’ll have the best view all to yourself.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face even if someone put a gun to my head and told me to try.
Oliver led me down a dark, narrow hallway that snaked around the side of the venue and stopped in front of a blue door. “Here’s your key,” he said, handing it to me. “Make sure to give it back at the reception after the show.”
“I will,” I said, giving him a brilliant smile.
He smirked and wrapped his hands around my waist. “Want to give me something to think about when we play tonight?” he whispered into my hair.
My pulse quickened. “Sure.” I turned my face up, and he didn’t hesitate to claim my lips.
God, I loved kissing him. I pulled him closer and closer until every inch of us was touching.
“Oh!” I jerked away, stunned at feeling his rock-hard erection against my thigh. Just kissing me was enough to do that to him? I supposed it was a good thing, but suddenly, I was unsure of myself. I’d never felt a man’s desire for me in such a physical way, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do in this situation.
While I squirmed, Oliver’s expression darkened. “What was that?”
“I’m sorry,” I rushed to apologize, feeling like a fool. “I don’t know why I reacted that way.”
“No, it’s my bad.” He sighed. “I forgot how young you are.”
Fear gripped my gut. In that moment, I wished he had reacted with anger instead of this cool dismissal. “No, it’s not that…”
“It’s fine, Ivy. I need to go now anyway,” he said, adjusting his pants and readying to leave.
I gripped his wrist, panicked. “Oliver, I’m sorry. I just— You’re not mad, are you?”
For a heartbeat, he looked at me in a clinical way, but then his eyes warmed. “Mad at you? Never, beautiful. I’ll see you soon, okay?” He gave me a peck as he pulled himself out of my grip and left.
I pressed my back against the wall and closed my eyes, telling myself not to read into what had happened. It was only an awkward misunderstanding. He wasn’t going to lose interest in me just because of this one thing. But how many awkward misunderstandings before he did?
Tears of frustration threatened to spill down my cheeks. I had to stop being an immature idiot. I had to be ready for him the next time we met.
Bleeding Moonlight was about halfway through their set. I watched them perform from the private balcony while sipping on a glass of champagne. When I’d arrived back here before the show started, an ice bucket with a bottle and two crystal glasses was waiting on the ground. There was a note that said, “For the girl who sparkles in her own right.” My earlier doubts had evaporated as soon as I’d read it. Everything was fine. Oliver wasn’t upset or disappointed with me.
Silas was shredding through an intense solo when a knock
sounded on the door behind me. I stood up to open it and found Oliver on the other side. He looked devastating in a fitted T-shirt and black jeans held up by a studded belt. His blond hair was perfectly tousled, as if someone had spent hours putting each strand in its right place.
His gaze raked over my combat boots, my skirt, and halted on the sliver of my exposed midriff. When his eyes made their way to my face, he tongued the ring in his bottom lip. “You look beautiful.”
Satisfaction buzzed inside of me, likely fueled by the two glasses I’d already drank. “Thank you. What are you doing here? Aren’t you about to go on?”
His lips pulled back to reveal perfect white teeth. “I wanted to taste you before going on stage. For good luck.”
I was his good luck charm? I didn’t have a chance to follow that intriguing train of thought further before he pressed me up against a wall, his tall body covering mine.
His kiss was demanding. When he slid his hand under the edge of my shirt, I couldn’t help but stiffen, but only for a moment. I wasn’t going to back down like the scared little girl from before.
He caressed the underside of my breast, then pulled back with a groan. “What are you doing to me, Ivy? You make me want to skip out on the show so I can stay here with you. I can’t remember the last time a woman made me feel like this.”
A woman. That’s how he saw me. Not a girl, not Cole’s loser sister. Oliver was reinventing me through every interaction between us. Without even knowing it, he was pushing my old, mediocre self out of the way to reveal someone shiny and new.
Oliver took his hand from under my shirt and pressed the tips of his fingers against my lips. “Open your mouth,” he murmured.
I obeyed.
He dipped his fingers inside, touching my tongue. “Suck.”
When I tightened my lips around his fingers, Oliver’s expression went slack. He tasted salty. His fingers curled over my teeth, and he tugged my face closer. I could feel his erection growing harder against my stomach, and I was ready for it this time, but I wasn’t prepared for the look I saw in his eyes. The emerald green was nearly gone, replaced by the pitch black of his irises, and there was an indescribable strangeness to it. It was as if I was looking at someone other than the Oliver I knew.
Pretty Words: An Enemies To Lovers Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels) Page 6
