I let him scoop me up in his arms for a lingering hug, the kind I was sure he gave most women, his entire body flush against mine. He didn’t even pretend to try to leave a respectable distance between his groin and mine the way most guys, and friends of Jesse’s, would. “Katie,” he said, and I could’ve sworn he smelled my hair.
Suddenly Maggie’s advice to me at the beginning of the tour came back. Really, the only useful thing I can tell you about Zane Traynor is keep your distance.
I decided to ignore that warning, trusting Jesse’s friendship with the man in my arms. Plus, the man had sung me a birthday song, I was pleasantly content with my champagne buzz, and since I wasn’t really Jesse’s girl I could hug whomever the fuck I wanted to.
“Zane,” I said. “That was the best birthday present a girl could get.”
Other than the one Jesse gave me when he flew my family out to surprise me, but I didn’t feel like going there with Zane.
He got a big, shit-eating Viking grin on his face and tipped his head back, laughing that big, cocky laugh of his, showing me all his perfect white teeth. He still had one hand on my lower back, holding me to him, and his other hand was on my ass before I knew it. Then he kissed me on the cheek and said, “Anytime, Jesse’s girl.”
He let me go and I scrambled over to Jesse, who wrapped me in his arm and tucked me into his side, still talking to some guy. He hadn’t even noticed the exchange between Zane and I, and I didn’t particularly want him to.
I had no warm, gushy or conflicted feelings for Zane, and while he was gorgeous to look at, I wasn’t attracted to him. I thought he was fucking cool, and as Jesse’s friend and bandmate I would’ve liked to be able to call him a friend. But the truth was I didn’t really know the guy, and the way he looked at me confused the shit out of me. I didn’t think he actually wanted me. I was pretty sure he was just fucking with me to amuse his giant ego, which probably rivaled Jesse’s for all-time Rock and Roll Hall of Fame giant egos.
It was a wonder the two of them ever fit on the same stage together.
We said our goodbyes, and while I got my goodbye hugs from pretty much everyone except Elle, Jesse had a few words with her, which I was glad to see did not end with a lingering groin-to-groin hug complete with ass squeeze.
But on the way back to the hotel, I decided to bring it up.
Jude was driving us but Jesse was with me in the backseat, and there was music on loud enough that I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be overheard.
“Did you tell Elle about us?” I was leaning into Jesse’s side and his arm was around me. When he didn’t answer right away, I tipped my head back to look up at him.
He didn’t look like he’d heard me. His gaze was unfocused, directed out the window. When I elbowed his ribs, lightly, his dark eyes snapped to mine.
“Huh? What about us?”
“I don’t know. What did you tell her?”
“Nothing,” he said. “She didn’t ask. I didn’t bring it up.”
I turned away, but he caught my chin and turned my face back to his.
“She knows we’re together. We’re not exactly hiding it.”
That was true. There were images of Jesse and I all over the place, and the only thing that made me feel okay rather than totally nauseous about that was the fact that Jesse and I looked very cozy in those pictures. That thought made me feel a little better, because fuck Elle if she was gonna be like that.
But then I just felt bad.
As soon as we got to the hotel I went straight into the shower. I needed a few minutes alone to blast myself with steamy water and clear my head. It had been such a crazy day.
First, thinking Jesse was meeting someone, probably Elle, behind my back. Ordering Flynn to take me to crash his date, which I should really apologize to both of them for. Then meeting Jesse’s beautiful but obviously troubled sister, and seeing him bent out of shape all night about something. I’d never felt that kind of tension coming off him. The only tension I was used to feeling in Jesse’s presence was of the sexual variety, which was a lot more fun.
Then there was the kick-ass show, which made me both excited to see Dirty play together someday, and depressed as hell that this tour was almost over and I may never actually get the chance to do that… because I could not see myself standing in line to buy a ticket to a Dirty concert sometime next year when they went on their next tour, and standing in the crowd watching them up on stage, out of my reach, like any other fan. The thought almost brought me to tears.
And then there was the run-in with Elle, which made me feel sick to my stomach. And the booze I’d drank to try to numb out that feeling. And the overly-familiar hug from Zane, which had been unexpected, a little flattering and not too out of place in the moment, but now felt kinda shitty. I was wondering if I should tell Jesse about it when the door to the shower opened and he appeared, naked, and stepped into my steam.
“We never had that shower you mentioned,” he said, his arms wrapping around my waist as he pressed up against my backside.
“What shower?”
“You know, the one on your list. Top five kinky things.”
“Oh,” I breathed as he kissed my neck. “That.”
And with that, all the woes of the evening melted down the drain. It was far too distracting showering with a naked, wet Jesse to even remember all the things I thought I was upset about only moments ago. Especially when he started washing me with a soapy washcloth and nibbling my ear, then whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Jessa likes you,” he said, turning me to face him. “I haven’t seen her that happy…” Something dark passed over his features, troubling me all over again. “Well, in a long time.”
“You mean she never table danced with your other girlfriends?”
A slight smile quirked his lips. “That would be a no.”
* * *
Half an hour later we were all steamed up but clean, dry, and I was ready to collapse into bed. Jesse followed, leaving on the lamp by the bed as he climbed in under the sheet with me. He stretched out next to me and I wrapped my arm lazily around his waist. He was so warm, his skin soft. He trailed his fingers through my hair, his arm flung around me on the pillow.
We hadn’t even gotten it on in the shower, which only fueled the uneasy feeling that had been building all night.
“So…” I asked, rather bravely, since the blood coursing through my veins was still at least fifty percent champagne, “how come you don’t do the girlfriend thing?”
After a moment, Jesse sighed. “The answer to that will make me sound like an ass.”
“So be an ass.” I smiled to encourage him and elbowed him gently. “Come on. Tell me.”
“The truth, Katie Bloom,” he said while playing with my hair, “is that in my experience the women I date usually want something from me I’m not prepared to give. So I just don’t go there.”
“But you did with Elle.”
“I did with Elle.”
“May I ask why?”
He considered that for a moment before he answered. “I felt a lot of pressure to be what she wanted.” His eyes met mine and he stopped playing with my hair. “Man, that does make me sound like an ass.”
“Kind of,” I said. He frowned a little and I grinned. At least he looked mildly amused, which was miles better than the strained look he’d had on his face most of the night.
“I knew when we got together it couldn’t just be a hook up,” he said. “There was too much at stake. The band, our working relationship. A longtime friendship. I didn’t want to fuck any of that up.”
“Very sensible.” It killed me a little to hear him talk about her. Even though they were no longer together, they had been together, and according to Elle, what they had was real. But I wanted to know. I wanted to know what it took to have a man like Jesse Mayes.
For real.
“So why did you take the risk?”
He sighed again. “
She wanted us to. And after a while I thought maybe it would be worth it to give it a try.”
“Lucky her,” I teased. “It is every woman’s dream to have the man she wants ‘give it a try’ with her.”
Jesse gave me a dirty look and smacked my bare ass cheek under the sheet, sending a sting of excitement straight to my clit. “Smart-ass,” he growled. Then he squeezed my tingling cheek, and I almost forgot what we were talking about.
“The truth is,” he went on, kneading my ass as he spoke, “I spent the last decade listening to the world hypothesize about what a scorching couple Elle and I would make. Sometimes it seemed like everyone thought we should be together. Including Elle. I thought maybe there was something I was missing, and once we were together I’d find out what it was. But that never happened, and after a while I accepted the fact that we weren’t right for each other. But it takes a while to navigate breaking up from someone you care about whose life is so intertwined with yours. I never wanted to hurt her, but I knew I couldn’t stay with her.”
Well. That would explain the way Elle treated me tonight. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like me. She didn’t even know me.
It was that Jesse had broken her heart.
“People call me a heartbreaker,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I don’t enjoy breaking hearts.”
I got that. I felt it. And I believed him.
In light of what he’d just told me, it even made total sense why he didn’t want a girlfriend.
What better way to avoid breaking hearts than to never let anyone love you in the first place?
Problem was, I did love him, already and completely. And right in the middle of it I was trying to figure out how I was supposed to let him go. I knew this was all coming to an end, soon, and despite the pain that had started creeping in around the edges, making it harder and harder to breathe every time I looked at him, I’d never wanted to kiss him more than I did right now.
So I did.
I put my hand on his cheek, leaned in, and sealed my lips to his. I kissed him, gently, slowly. He kissed me back, his body gradually tensing, his breaths getting heavier as he curled up off the bed to envelop me. He rolled me over, driving me into the mattress with his weight, and I let him. I wanted to be smothered by him. By the feel of his body, hot and strong against me, his smell, his taste as he kissed me until I could barely find breath.
He pulled away and I caught some air. His eyes were hooded with lust, and that sparkle was back in their dark depths. He leaned in to kiss my throat and I sighed. In that moment I would’ve let him do pretty much anything he wanted, no matter how much my heart would hurt later. I didn’t care. We still had a week. I’d take what I could get.
“How about some good old missionary sex,” he murmured in my ear. “I hear it’s your favorite position.”
I laughed as he nuzzled into my neck, but whispered back, “I’m not sure it is anymore.”
“No?” He lifted up to look in my eyes, intrigued.
“Well… it’s got competition, anyway.” It was true. As much as I loved Jesse on top of me, pinning me down as he fucked me until I saw stars, I’d come to appreciate various other positions. Especially…
“Show me,” he said, his teeth dragging over his lip.
I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back; he went easily, letting me take the lead. In seconds I had him on his back, pinned beneath me, straddled by my thighs. “I’d say this position has its advantages.” I reached between my legs and grabbed his hard cock, giving him a long, tight stroke.
He groaned and dropped his head back into the pillows. “Such as?”
“Mmm… killer view,” I murmured, leaning down to kiss him. I watched his gorgeous eyes roll closed as I lowered myself onto his cock, taking him inside me in one long, slow thrust.
I was still watching him moments later when his mouth dropped open. His eyes opened, locking on me. I rode him, so slowly at first that it was sweet torture, and gradually faster, harder. I was still watching him when his breath caught, his hands gripping my hips and squeezing me, hard, as he came inside me.
I leaned in and kissed him again, melting against him. Then he flipped us over and went down on me, his unhurried tongue bringing me slowly to orgasm. I was still watching him when I came, my hands buried in his dark hair, with the words running through my head that I wouldn’t let leave my lips.
I love you.
I so fucking love you.
He was still watching me, too.
And if this wasn’t real, if none of this was real, it was going to shred me to pieces.
* * *
“You have the same tattoo,” I whispered, not even sure if Jesse was still awake.
I was curled against him in the dark, my heart still beating faster than normal. I hadn’t yet fully come down from the thrill of getting fucked up against the wall, my legs wrapped around Jesse’s hips, gravity driving me down on his cock... because apparently, when I’d come on his tongue it turned him into a horny beast in need of another round.
He stirred, his fingers coiling in my hair, breath fanning on my neck. “Hmm?”
“Your tattoo.” I skimmed my fingers over the figure on his wrist. “Jessa has the same one, on her ankle. It’s a lot smaller, but I saw it at the club.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Got them when Mom died.”
My fingers stilled. Then I traced the long lines of the wings that I was pretty sure belonged to a kick-ass, rock ’n’ roll angel. Shit. I didn’t even know what to say.
There was so much about him, about his life, that I didn’t know. So much I still wanted to learn.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were going to meet up with her?”
I waited for the warm plume of his breath on my throat but it didn’t come. Finally, he let it go on a silent sigh. “She asked me not to tell anyone.”
I tightened my grip on his waist. “I don’t mean to pry. But… is everything okay? You seemed upset at dinner.”
“Our mom died nine years ago this week,” he said. “It’s always a hard time for Jessa.”
Oh, man. I had no idea.
I noticed, though, that he didn’t say it was a hard time for him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. He didn’t say anything, so I ventured on. “Your mom sounds like a really strong woman. She raised you alone, right?” I looked at him but I could barely make out his face. He seemed to be staring straight up at the dark void of the ceiling. “Dolly mentioned it.”
He didn’t respond. I started to wonder if he’d heard me, even though it was dead quiet in the room. I didn’t really know if he was here with me, or somewhere else.
“Yeah,” he finally said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Without Dolly I don’t know where we’d be. When Mom got really sick Jessa pretty much lived with her.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered. “About your mom?” Maybe this wasn’t the kind of conversational territory a fake girlfriend ventured into, but fuck it.
I was more than just his fake girlfriend or his employee, even if he didn’t see it. I, Katie Bloom, was the girl who loved him.
Hell, maybe I was one of many girls who loved him, for all I knew. But I did love him. And maybe it was a bad idea to keep digging for reasons to love him even more, but it wasn’t wrong to be compassionate when he was hurting. I couldn’t stand to just pretend that he wasn’t.
“Not much to tell,” he said. “After our dad left, she was always working to try to give us a better life than the one she got. She loved us but we never really knew her. She never let anyone get close after what happened with my dad.”
“Sounds like she had a hard life,” I said softly.
“Sometimes I think she kept us at a distance because she couldn’t stand getting hurt again. She never figured out how to trust anyone again or find someone else she could love.”
The way he spoke about her… the words so sad, yet his tone so detached. And after what he’d said abo
ut breaking hearts, it made me wonder…
“You’re not like her, you know.” I leaned up on my elbow to look at his face, though I could still barely see him. “You’re not like your mom. Afraid to let anyone in. If that’s what you’re afraid of; turning into her. You’re not her.”
Even though I couldn’t see his eyes I felt the subtle shift as he looked away. “I’m not afraid of turning into my mom, Katie.” He sighed again, and I could feel his pain crackling in that tight breath. “I’m afraid of Jessa turning into our dad. He killed himself when I was nine.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
* * *
Jesse
I was out of bed on the razor’s edge of dawn. It was a cool morning so I put on a hoodie and went for a run alone. Jude wouldn’t like it, but I needed some time to think. I’d been doing too much of that lately, probably, but it was harder than fuck to climb up out of this place once I was all down in it.
I hated feeling powerless, but every time I spoke with my sister, that’s exactly how I felt.
My conversation with Jessa last night kept rolling through my head; pretty much the same as every other conversation we’d had in the past nine years.
Before the tour, I’d managed to get some time with her while I was in L.A., and she’d seemed better than she had in a long time. More like her old self.
Then just when things seemed to be going well, like always, she withdrew.
Disappeared.
And as always, I’d skirted around the issue when I saw her last night, afraid if I confronted her about it directly she’d bail and disappear even longer.
I was pretty much running out of shit to say to her. I hated sounding like a nagging broken record. Brody was probably right. Maybe I should talk to a therapist or something and they could help me figure out how to get through to her. Because what I’d been doing for the past nine years wasn’t fucking working.
She still refused to commit to anything.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2 Page 55
