Rock Heart

by K. Webster

  Rock Heart

  Copyright © 2014 K. Webster

  Cover Design: MGbookcovers

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  BONUS SHORT STORY

  ROCK BOTTOM (The Vegas Aces Series, Book 3)

  MY BOOKS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To my fannies—Nikki, Wendy, Alex, and Heather. You ladies are my girls and I would die without your constant encouragement. Love you all to the moon and back!

  Fuck my life. Manny upped and left us for his secret family. We’ve had shitty luck finding a new bassist. The tour had to be put on hold because Bobby won’t leave June. And now fucking Neve. Three years I’ve put up with her bullshit—and today, she’s royally pissing me off. I swear she finds my button and tries all day every day to push it.

  Bobby, the guitarist for The Aces and my best friend, is cursing and demanding answers from our manager, David, as to where the newest audition is. June wasn’t feeling well earlier, and he hated leaving her alone so far along in the pregnancy. Lifting my phone again, I scowl at Neve’s text and try to formulate a sane response.

  Neve: I think we need our own tour bus. There’s no way I want to spend hours on end with a screaming baby. I cannot stand kids, you know that. You’ve got a shitload of money. I know you’ll make it happen.

  Is she fucking insane? Sure, Neve. Let me throw out a couple hundred grand for another tour bus so you won’t be inconvenienced. Fuck that and fuck her. I love her, but most days, I can’t stand her. It makes no sense. And seeing Bobby and June with their fucking storybook romance, I can’t help but put my own relationship under the microscope. We’re nothing like them and it can’t be any more fucking obvious. But could I ever leave her?

  Me: No. You know we like to practice on the road and collaborate with new songs. With the new bassist hopefully joining us soon, this will be more important than ever.

  I know she’ll be pissed at my response. And two seconds later, she’s fired off her reply.

  Neve: Since you don’t care about my needs, maybe I shouldn’t go on tour this time. You clearly don’t want me there.

  Guilt washes over me. When she’s being bitchy, I can fight easily with her, but when she lays on the guilt trip, I have a harder time dealing with her that way.

  Me: Babe, I want you there. You know I only have eyes for you. It will be an adjustment for everyone but we’ll make it work. I love you.

  She doesn’t respond, and I go from feeling bad to pissed off again. Her head games get so damn old. I can hear Bobby bitching at Donnie for being late as I try a different tactic with Neve.

  Me: After this audition, I’m taking you to dinner. We can go to that expensive ass Japanese sushi house you love. I’ll call you when I leave here.

  My phone chimes, indicating a response from Neve, which makes me smile—that is, until I read her text.

  Neve: I’ve got other plans.

  I’m so furious that I feel like snapping my phone in half. Other fucking plans? With who? Lately, she seems to have lots of “other plans” when we get in a fight.

  “Neve?” Bobby asks as he sits beside me on the sofa. He nods his head at my phone, clearly reading my anger at my conversation with my fiancée.

  “Yeah. She’s being a fucking bitch. I told her I’d take her out tonight for dinner after the audition, but she’s got ‘other plans.’ What the fuck does that mean? I’ve been dating the girl for three fucking years and she’s never had other plans until recently. If she’s fucking someone behind my back, I’ll be fucking pissed.”

  He’s opening his mouth to say something when the chime on the door snags our attention. In waltzes a chick. Not just any chick, but a hot one. As she scans the three of us, I roll my eyes before she gets to me when I see a bass case that probably weighs more than she does in her grasp. Hell to the no. A fucking girl?

  She looks like she belongs on an episode of Gossip Girl: Rock Star Edition. Preppy-meets-gothic is the best way to describe her. Sexy, blond waves streaked in black and pink cascade in front of her shoulders, over her perky tits, all the way down to her waist—a slim one at that. The girl could eat a few cheeseburgers. Her outfit is fucking ridiculous, and it looks like she got it from the thrift shop. The pink top hangs off her shoulder, and I’m assaulted with an overwhelming urge to pull it up so David will quit looking at her like a piece of meat. Just the thought of touching her makes my dick thicken. Why the fuck am I getting a hard-on from looking at this chick?

  My eyes continue their perusal of her petite body until they make their way back up to her face. She’s dolled up to really fit the part, and that’s exactly what she’s doing. I can see that she’s gone out of her way to look like a badass rocker, but the look doesn’t look natural on her and I see cracks in her self-confidence.

  “I’m Taylor Ryan, but you can call me Ryan,” she says in a sexy voice that I can’t help but want to hear more of.

  My gaze finds her dark-colored lips and my fucking cock leaps at the thought of them staining my dick as she sucks me off. What in the fuck? I have a fucking fiancée for crying out loud, and this chick is making me want her without even trying. I’m pissed as hell about the entire ordeal.

  From the corner of my eye, I see David stand and walk over to her. “Nice to meet you, Ryan. Are you ready to see if you’re a good fit for The Aces?” he asks as he shakes her hand.

  Bobby flicks a glance over at me in confusion before turning back to Ryan. When her eyes meet mine, I can’t help but glare at her pretty, blue eyes. I expect her to cower away. I’m nearly six feet tall with tattoos covering a good portion of my flesh and cut like a motherfucker thanks to endless hours at the gym when I avoid Neve for being a bitch. Shit. Neve.

  But Ryan doesn’t cower away. She lifts her chin defiantly, narrows her eyes at me, and pins me on the couch with her hateful scowl. Her neck is turning pink—either because she is pissed or intimidated. She’s tough to read.

  “Show us what you got, Barbie.” I throw in the nickname because I want to see what she’ll do.

  My lips curl into a half smile when she drops her jaw and tosses her hair over her shoulder in a Valley Girl move before following David into the sound room. Shit, this girl needs to go home and watch Clueless. Bobby smirks at me as we go and take our places. He gets me.

  Bobby, ever the professional, finally speaks to her. “I’m Bobby, and this is Chaz.”

  “I know who you are,” she snaps, avoiding my gaze as she pulls out her bass and plugs it in.

  While Bobby orders the song to b
e played, I stare boldly at her. This job is tough—and if she can’t handle a little pressure, then she doesn’t fucking belong here. The way her tits jiggle while she adjusts the tuners on her bass are distracting me more than I’ll ever admit. It doesn’t matter if she’s good. I’m not hiring her.

  After snatching the microphone from the stand, I turn it on and then direct my attention back to Ryan as the drums start playing from the track since dumbass Donnie isn’t here to play his part.

  She is playing every bit of Manny’s part much like he would. I’m shocked and fucking mesmerized as the tiny thing owns the song like she’s been playing it her entire life. Because she doesn’t use a pick, her fingers slide over the strings almost sensually. When she closes her eyes, my cock once again hardens. I’m so distracted by her that I miss my part.

  “Fuck!” I snap loudly into my microphone. The room becomes quiet aside from the drumming cadence in the background. I’ve nailed that song thousands of times, but not tonight. We’re most definitely not hiring this chick—something about her clouds my brain. “I’m off my fucking game tonight,” I confess. It’s true too. Between this girl and Neve, my head is a mess.

  “A chick?” Ryan questions as she arches an eyebrow up. I know she’s meant the look to be condescending, but it just looks sexy as fuck. Damn her.

  The other two idiots in the room start laughing, and I throw them each a dirty look.

  “Let’s start again,” I bark at David.

  We thankfully make it through the next song without any mistakes. I force myself to sing to the wall instead of at her, which helps in not getting distracted by her, but at the same time, it has me admitting that she plays just as good as Manny. The girl is really good—much better than any of the other assholes we’ve auditioned. Fuck.

  “How old are you? Where are you from?” Bobby asks, clearly just as impressed as I am.

  Once again, she lifts her chin in an effort to appear braver. “Twenty-four. Flagstaff, Arizona,” she provides. Nothing less, nothing more. Yep, she’s definitely guarding herself for whatever reason.

  Bobby’s phone goes off, playing the stupid-ass ringtone he gave to Donnie, and they are soon in a heated conversation. I take the time to look at Ryan once more.

  Her phone chimes and she quickly pulls it from her pocket to read her text. Boyfriend? My chest tightens and I feel irritated for some reason. Whatever comes through on that text transforms her. Ryan goes from being an angry rocker chick putting on a show to a happy, innocent-looking woman. Her lips curl into a genuine smile, and goddammit if it doesn’t have my cock hardening again.

  She lifts her eyes to me and they’re shining with what looks like pride. As soon as our eyes meet, I’m awarded a glimpse into the real her. Her guard is down and she seems…sweet. My heart pounds wildly in my chest because I feel the urge to put that smile on her face. Before I can stop myself, I grin back at her.

  I watch her neck turn pink under my gaze, and she quickly looks back down at her phone to type out a reply. Her walls are going up quickly before me and it fucking pisses me off for some reason. I have no right to this girl, but for some reason, I want to. I want to stalk over to her, grab that sweet, pink neck, and plant kisses all over it—see just how red it will get.

  My cock is painfully hard after that image, and I adjust myself in an effort to not look like a fucking creeper if she happens to look over. Since Ryan walked into this building, all I’ve thought about is her. Not my fiancée of three years. No, just her. This is a problem. A big fucking problem.

  She looks back up at me and gives me the cutest fucking shy smile. Instead of awarding her another grin like I really want to, I scowl at her. My heart sinks when she frowns, looking genuinely hurt. This girl affects me bad.

  We’re so not hiring her. Not a chance in fucking hell.

  Fuck my life.

  Three months later

  “Neve, come the fuck on already,” I snap through the bathroom door that she has locked on my ass. This is her new thing. Ignore Chaz by locking him out.

  “I’ll meet up with you in a few minutes,” she yells back before turning on her hairdryer.

  I slam the door with my fist and storm down the hallway to the front door, where all of our bags wait to be loaded. Today begins our first day of touring. We were supposed to be loaded and ready to go by ten this morning. It’s a quarter to and we still have to make the trek across town to where our bus is waiting.

  I grab two of my suitcases and roll my eyes when I see the eight Neve has packed for herself. She’s royally pissing me off today. Everyone knows that, in order to get everything to fit, we all get two suitcases. Our bus sleeps eight. Bobby called the double bed loft since he and June have Sutton now. I’m still not sure how bringing a three-month-old on tour is going to go, but I don’t dare say that to Bobby.

  That leaves the six bunks in the hallway for me, Neve, Donnie, our manager David, our driver Ted, and her.

  The girl who rattles me to my fucking core. Ryan.

  We’ve met up as a band several times to jam and practice our shit before the tour, but each and every time, I pretend she’s not even there. I haven’t said as much as two words to her since her audition. She fucking hates me—I can see it in her eyes.

  I stalk out to my car, toss my two suitcases in the trunk, and head back inside for the rest of Neve’s. The next four trips to the car only serve to fuel my rage. I’m so fucking angry these days. Angry at Neve for being a psycho bitch. Angry at Bobby and his perfect fucking family. Angry at Donnie for antagonizing the shit out of me. Angry at Manny for leaving us. And angry at her. Ryan. I’m angry at her because she fills my thoughts against my will.

  “I still don’t know why we can’t get our own bus,” Neve whines as she emerges from the bathroom.

  “Dammit, Neve. I’ve told you a hundred fucking times. Bobby and June need the space for the baby,” I growl as she walks past me.

  She sighs heavily and thrusts her Louis Vuitton bag at me. “It’s not fair. I mean, come on, Chaz. They’ve got that baby now. It’s not like they’ll need the bed to fuck. We’re the ones who need the space, not them. The baby is little. Can’t June sleep with it by herself?”

  I yank the bag from her and storm out of the house toward the car. When I make it to the car, I slam the bag into the trunk and shut it. My phone rings. and as I slide into the driver’s seat, I answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Dude, where the fuck are you? Everyone’s already packed and ready to go,” Donnie asks. Since when did he become Mr. Fucking Responsible?

  “Waiting on Neve,” I grumble. He laughs into the phone, causing my blood to boil. “What?”

  “You two. You guys fucking hate each other. When was the last time you got laid? Is she holding out on you?” he teases.

  Little does he know, yes. This is her newest mindfuck. The more pissed I get at her, the more she withholds sex. The more she withholds sex, the more I get pissed. We’re engaged to be fucking married and I get to touch my soon-to-be wife maybe once a month.

  “We’ll be there in twenty minutes, asshole,” I answer and hang up.

  I wait not so patiently for another ten minutes before Neve finally trots down the driveway wearing a skin-tight dress that barely covers her ass and spiked heels. What in the fuck?

  When she gets into the car, I shake my head at her. “Babe, we’re not going clubbin’. We’re going on tour. Why are you dressed like that?” I demand in disbelief. She gets more and more out there each day.

  “You’re unreal, Chaz. Some men would think this is sexy. My own fiancé hates the way I look,” she pouts.

  Instantly, I feel guilty. She looks sexy as hell, I’ll give her that. It’s just not the kind of outfit you wear to be on a bus for twelve straight hours. My eyes drag along her smooth, bare legs and my dick hardens. It’s been three fucking weeks since we’ve had sex. Neve is tall with legs that go for miles. They’re what drew me to her in the first place. Seeing her legs ju
t out of the barely there dress has me not giving a fuck if we’re late.

  “You look beautiful, babe,” I compliment.

  She flashes her white teeth and bats her long, dark eyelashes. The girl loves her compliments. I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze. When she squeals with laughter, I take the invitation and slip my hand under her dress.

  “Chaz,” she moans and tilts her head back.

  My dick is impossibly harder when I realize she’s wearing a skimpy thong. I easily slip a finger between her legs into her hot center. She’s already wet for me. It’s times like these that I forget we’re even having problems.

  “Does that feel good?” I ask as I thrust my finger in and out of her. My thumb teases her clit and she whimpers.

  We may not get to have sex, but if we get each other off, I’ll feel a little less agitated.

  “Mmmm, so good,” she moans as she grabs her breasts through her dress.

  She kicks one of her legs up onto the dash, giving me deeper access into her. Pushing a second finger into her, I finger-fuck her the way I know she likes. Riding my fingers, meeting my palm thrust for thrust, she finally comes.

  “Fuck, Chaz. You’re so good at that,” she praises.

  My dick jumps eagerly as I wonder if she’ll give me a hand job or suck me off. Her hand slides over my thigh and goes straight for my cock.

  “Oh, you’re so hard, baby,” she croons as she strokes me through my jeans.

  I groan in anticipation. When I go to unbuckle my jeans, she giggles. I jerk my head over to her and raise my eyebrows in question. “What?’

  “I wish we had time for that, baby. But we’ve got to get to the bus. Everyone’s waiting on us. If only they knew your horny ass was what made us late,” she laughs.

  I stare at her, openmouthed. She sure as shit got hers, but now that it’s time for mine, she can’t be bothered? I’ll have fucking blue balls the whole way there. Unfuckingbelieveable.

  Instead of rewarding her with a response, I put the car into drive and tear off toward the bus. Everyone will be pissed that we’re late. But I’m pissed that she’s once again playing head games.