“Why?”
“That little chorus you were singing—”
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It just came out. I was trying to be quiet. Did I mess up the track?”
“No, you might’ve just fixed it. Could you put down your drawing and let me record you? I think those words are the missing piece.”
***
“The song sounded so good in the studio,” Jewel whispered after our shower that night as I stroked a damp tendril off her brow.
“You, babe. It sounded good because of you,” I said softly. Facing me in bed, lying on her side, she was naked but for the sheet tucked around her, the low lamplight from the nightstand caressing her dewy skin. “Your part was the perfect piece to make the song complete.”
Much like she was the missing piece that made my life feel meaningful.
Needing to be closer, I slid my thigh between her shapely legs instead of flipping her onto her back and thrusting my hard cock inside her welcoming heat again. I’d had her several times since we returned to the condo, my need for her relentless. Actually, it had been relentless since the first time she smiled at me. But she was worn out, her eyes heavy and drowsy, her body relaxed.
My desire intrinsically interwoven with hers, I told myself to temper the urgency until she rested. But that was difficult to do when there was a driving need within me to have her, to join my body to hers, to prove to her how good we were together.
“I just echoed your lyrics,” she said, her voice sleepy.
“You did more than that.” I glided a fingertip across her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. Why was she so reluctant to accept my praise?
“Ben. Jack. You.” Her pretty golden eyes searched deep within mine. “You three are the musicians. It was like being inside a dream to be part of your creative process.”
“Misguided dream, maybe.”
“How so?”
“That’s what my dad called my musical ambition.”
“He probably didn’t understand it.”
“It felt like he expected me to fail.” I’d never voiced that thought out loud to anyone.
“Did he get to see you succeed?”
“Yes.” But by that time, the damage had been done between us. Stubbornness in his heart to admit he was wrong, resentment in mine that he hadn’t supported me in the first place. “The differences between us seemed so huge back then, but now . . .”
“I know.” She slid her hands out from under her chin and cradled my face. “The love is what you remember, and the lost opportunity to bridge that gap.”
“Yes.” I exhaled heavily. “That’s it exactly.”
“I understand.” Her eyes warm, empathetic pools, she ran her fingertips lightly over my skin.
“But your gran was supportive of your art.”
“She was. Only the way I went about pursuing it was wrong.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Leaving her. Moving out to LA without her blessing.” Shadows crept into Jewel’s gaze. “And . . . I never got the chance to tell her I was sorry. That I loved her. That if I could do it over again, I would have done things differently.”
“Yeah. I feel that same way about me and my dad.” I pressed a soft kiss to her trembling lip and pulled back to look at her, relieved to see my affection had cleared some of the regret from her eyes.
“If your dad were here, he would tell you he loves you,” she said firmly. “Even though your dream wasn’t his dream, you have to know that he was proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.”
“I wish that were true.”
“‘Wishes are the seeds of desire in our heart,’” she said softly, her gaze reflective. “My gran said that. You have to believe he’s proud and act upon that belief. I certainly am proud. I got chills listening to you, watching you work, hearing the playback in the studio. You’re amazing.”
My heart soared from her praise. “Overdubbing the instrument and my voice makes me sound like a professional,” I said, trying to downplay it.
“It’s more than that, Rush.” Her gaze shone with conviction like the sun at midday, allowing no shadow. “You were born to be a performer. If you’d had more time with your father, he would’ve acknowledged that. You would’ve made things right with him. I’m sure of it.”
“You think so, huh?”
“I know so. You’re not the type to give up on someone you care about. I’ve seen that in action with your bandmates and their troubles, and with your mom. You make the world a better place with your music. Your lyrics. Your voice. Your emotion.”
God, the things I felt with her. My cross ring winked in the light, as if to give some kind of heavenly absolution or blessing. A seed of hope formed, filling my chest with a fullness rather than the emptiness that had lived there for so long, with warmth where there had been only cold. It grew, glowing, because of her.
“Thank you, Jewel.”
I brought my hands up to skim them over her features. We were mirror images. She framed my face. I worshipped hers.
“For nothing. I was truly impressed.”
“Hold that thought.” My mouth curved into a smile as I threaded my fingers into her hair. “I like you being impressed by me. I want to savor this.”
“I’m far from your only fan.” Her lips lifted.
“Your opinion matters.” My serious tone reflected how very much that was true.
“Yours matters to me too.”
I nodded, accepting that, and tapped her nose. “So you’ll show me your painting.”
“Not yet. Not until it’s finished.” She treated me to a full-blown smile, a million-wattage glow.
I traced the warm satin of her lips with my thumb. She grabbed my wrist and opened my hand to press a gentle kiss to the center of my palm. Desire roared inside me, vibrating my rib cage like a tuning fork. I wanted her so badly.
All of her.
“Do you think I might be able to prove to you that one moment can lead to a next for us?” I held my breath, needing to know there was a chance for me to succeed with her. I’d failed so utterly with Brenda. And it had never mattered with her the way it mattered with Jewel.
She sighed, not meeting my eyes. “I wish it could.”
“Jewel.” My heavy exhale lifted her hair. “You couldn’t be any better for me. When I look in your eyes, I see a better me and a brighter future. I’ll take that wish and make it reality,” I said, my words a solemn vow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
* * *
Jewel
Reluctant to leave his arms, I slipped out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake him. It had been so late when we returned to the condo after the party, later still before we actually went to sleep.
Rush’s hair was disheveled, both from rolling around in the covers and my fingers running repeatedly through the strands. Still sleeping, he looked serene, the way I felt singing backup with him in the studio. Strangely, I hadn’t even been nervous. His holding my hands had taken away the awkwardness of my voice being recorded.
His handsome features were relaxed now, and his sun-kissed golden skin contrasted with the starkness of the white sheets. Staring down at him, I longed to retrace the chiseled contours of his body again, even though I’d done so only hours before. I longed to sketch him like this too.
But I needed to call Cam. I’d been checking in with her, but only briefly, and I could tell she was irritated with me. I slid my phone from my purse and slipped out to the living room, counting ten rings before she picked up the call.
“Hello?” She sounded out of it, even though it was near noon. “What’s going on?”
“Late night?” I dropped onto the leather sofa, worrying my bottom lip. I didn’t like the idea of her going out to work without me nearby for backup.
“Yes, but give me a moment. I need to pull up the blackout shades. It’s too dark in here. If the phone hadn’t lit up, I never would have found it. Hold on.” The line went silent.
A few seconds later, she picked up the phone again. “I’m back. I’m so glad to hear from you. Do you have time for a real conversation today?”
“Where are you?” My eyes narrowed. We had foil covering our windows, not shades.
“Our apartment.”
“We don’t have blackout shades, Cam.”
“We do now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What do you mean?” She sighed. “I need caffeine. Lots and lots to try to figure out this conversation. Hold on. I’m gonna whip up an espresso with that fancy machine.”
“What fancy machine?” I asked, but she didn’t hear me. The phone clattered as she put it down. Then I heard an unfamiliar whirring in the background.
What the hell?
“I’m back. With my cute little Lavazza-stamped cup and saucer.”
“Do I have the right number? Is this really Camaro Montepulciano?”
“Yes. And yes.”
“And you’re in our apartment? With blackout curtains?”
“And a brand-new espresso machine.” She took a slurp of her coffee. “It does other drinks, but I haven’t figured out all the settings yet.”
Frowning, I asked, “How did you afford those things?”
“He didn’t tell you? His manager said you approved everything.”
He? That meant Rush.
“What is everything, Cam?” My stomach started to churn.
“A new fridge that actually works, full of food. Fresh fruit. A juice maker. A computer, a flat-screen TV with a remote. Furniture. Twin beds. End tables. Pretty crystal lamps. A dresser. A mirror. iPods. A Beats sound system. A box of pepper spray canisters and a box of condoms.”
As she paused for a second to take a breath, my mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. I had absolutely no idea what to say. Didn’t matter, because she picked up steam again.
“Those last two were add-ons I didn’t ask for from his manager. He was a bit of an ass, I have to tell you. He insisted on me doing a FaceTime thing with the new iPhone he had delivered to show him the apartment. Twice—once before, and then after all the deliveries started. All of them. Spaced out. The last one was just before I went to bed, at three in the morning. He said something about not wanting anyone to see what was going into our apartment. He called me his Christmas project. Calls himself ‘Mr. Claus,’ and he calls your boyfriend a lot of choice things I’m not going to repeat. Because . . . holy fucking shit, you hit the jackpot with that one.”
“Rush did this?”
“Of course he did. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
But now the picture of my driver’s license I saw on his phone made sense. I assumed he was running a background check on me, and I’d been waiting for the hammer to drop on the results of that investigation. There was more to be ashamed of than just the few overnight detentions for soliciting undercover cops.
“Are you mad?” she asked, but I didn’t know what I was yet.
“Did he . . .” I swallowed and pulled the lapels of the robe together, suddenly feeling queasy. Had the days I’d given him not been the gift I’d meant them to be? Had I been paying with my body all along? Was this not at all what I thought it was?
“Did he give you money too?” I held my breath.
“No.”
I let out a relieved exhale. “Okay. Good.” I glanced in the direction of the bedroom.
“Was he supposed to? I thought—”
“I thought so too,” I said quickly, not letting her finish. My head pounded behind my eyes. Lack of sleep, sure. But I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. “I need to talk to him.”
“Babe, you okay?” Rush stumbled into view. “I heard you talking.”
His voice rumbly, he looked sleepy, yet strangely alert, sweeping his gaze over me as he padded closer on bare feet. He was shirtless, his jeans half-buttoned and hanging low on his narrow hips. Definitely no boxers under there.
“It’s Cam. I called to check in with her. I didn’t mean to wake you. But apparently, Christmas came early to our apartment.”
“Ah. That was fast.” His brows rose as he studied me. “You don’t seem happy.”
I shook my head at him. “Cam.” I sighed, refocusing on her. “Rush is here. I’ll call you back.”
“You keep saying that, but I’m still waiting for a conversation between us that lasts more than five minutes.”
“Soon, I promise.”
“I hear ya. All right. Good luck. And, Jewel?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be too hard on him. For what it’s worth, I think it was a real sweet thing to do.”
She hung up, and I lifted my gaze to Rush. Tears flooded my eyes.
“I can never reimburse you for something so extravagant.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t expect you to pay me back.”
“Was I paying for those things all along?”
“Fuck no.” He didn’t just look alert now. He looked angry. “I just wanted—”
Awareness hit, unfurling humiliation within me. “You feel sorry for me.”
“No. I feel the opposite.”
He came closer. From my position on the couch, I stared up at him. As a warm tear spilled down my cheek, he dropped onto the couch and reached for me, his long fingers curling around my upper arms as he gently moved me closer.
“I don’t understand.”
“I admire you, baby.” His silver eyes searching mine, he framed my face with his hands and gently wiped away the tears that slid down my cheeks. “Who you are as a person. How you are. Even giving me grief right now, when I was only trying to do something nice. I wanted to take away some of your worry while you were here with me. I wasn’t trying to buy anything.”
“My heart’s not for sale,” I said firmly, willing my voice not to tremble.
“I know it’s not.” He frowned. “I’m sorry I did this all wrong.”
“What are we doing, Rush?”
I pulled his hands from my face. Staring down at them, I had to set aside the shivery way I felt at the memory of him running those skilled fingers all over my skin.
The pressure of more tears rapidly built. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. It already hurt so much, and it was only going to get worse.
“I should go.”
“You promised me a week.” His words snapped through the air like a whip.
Trying to be strong, I met his gaze. “We don’t even have a week left.”
“Today and tomorrow.” His expression was inscrutable.
“Why do you want me to stay?”
“Because of the way you tremble when I kiss you. Because of the way you burrow into me in your sleep. Because when I don’t screw up, I can make you smile.”
“Rush . . .”
“Stay. Give me a little more time. Please.”
I closed my eyes for a second, trying to be strong, but I couldn’t deny him anything. Not after how kind he’d been to me. “All right.”
“Thank you.”
He yanked me into him, his arms clamped so tightly around me that I could barely breathe. He acted as though I’d given him some kind of priceless gift, when in reality, I was only delaying the inevitable.
***
Rush
My phone rang while I was sitting on the edge of the bed, distracted, and not just because Jewel was currently in the shower without me. My mind in a whirl, I kept running through scenarios to keep her, then discarding each one because I knew they wouldn’t work.
I scooped up my cell from the nightstand without glancing at the caller ID. “Hello?”
“I forwarded your plane ticket to Indy to your email,” Brad said.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
“Any more news from your mom?” he asked, his tone concerned.
“No.”
“No news is good, I’m sure. She’s always been healthy. Don’t worry,” he said, knowin
g me well.
“Hard not to.”
“I know. I’d be the same about my mom.”
He would be. His mom was the sweetest. She loaned me the money for a bus ticket to LA when I decided to quit college.
Brad’s voice brightened. “Good news on the Christmas project you gave me. The last delivery was completed early this morning.”
“I know.”
“Her roommate told her?”
“Yeah.”
“Camaro Montepulciano. That girl’s a piece of work.”
“How so?”
“Smokin’ hot, but exasperating attitude. Fought me at every turn.”
Sounds familiar.
“Nice thing you did for them.”
“Jewel doesn’t see it that way.”
“Why the hell not? You ever see the inside of that apartment?”
I barely registered his question. My focus was elsewhere, across the hall where the water was still running. Jewel had been in there a while. Steam billowed out into the hall. I put far too much stock in the fact that, even though she hadn’t invited me to shower with her, she hadn’t closed the door.
“I don’t even think it’s a real apartment.” Incredulity raised his voice. “It’s barely big enough to fit two twin beds side by side. Only a single bulb dangling from a wire in the ceiling. Brackets and old shelving on unpainted drywall. The one window they have is barred and nailed shut. The refrigerator didn’t even work.” He sighed. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah.” I raked a hand through my hair. “I suspected it was bad.”
“Bad doesn’t cover it. And the inside is Taj Mahal compared to the outside. Drug paraphernalia in the hall. Homeless people sleeping in the stairwell. One of my delivery guys got robbed. Another one got shot at.”
“Fucking hell.” I rubbed my pounding temples. Jewel couldn’t go back to that. But how could I stop her when I didn’t have the power to keep her here?
“She really isn’t hitting you up for any money?”
I huffed out a laugh. “She almost left when she found out about all the stuff I had you do.”
“Incredible.”
Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2 Page 129
