"It's not?"
She shakes her head. "Really, have you even had a platinum album?"
"I'll have to ask one of my people. I'm too important to remember those details."
"So you wouldn't know if you'd had a number one single?"
"Not a clue."
"Or how many weeks you've spent in the Billboard Top 200?"
"You Google all those music things in the last five minutes?"
She bites her lip. "Maybe."
"You can Google the answer too."
"I'd rather call one of your people." She stretches her arms over her head. It pulls her shirt up her stomach. "How about a number?"
I shake my head. "I'm too important to remember anything besides how to hold my sticks."
She laughs. "Really?"
I tap my front pocket. "I have them all saved."
"And do you know how many weeks you've spent in the Billboard Top 200?"
Not offhand. I don't pay attention to status shit. I mostly look at the crowd every night. "Do you?"
She nods. "But I'm not telling." She pulls the limo door open and climbs in before the driver can insist on helping.
He holds the door open and motions to me. "Mr. Young."
I raise a brow.
"Your highness." His straight face cracks for a second then it's back. "Should I plan on a dinner stop?"
"Let me ask the queen." I slide into the limo.
This time, I take the seat next to Bella. Bad idea. Being this close to her is sending all my blood straight to my cock. It doesn't help that I have a perfect view of her cleavage.
I force myself to look her in the eyes. "You hungry?"
"Yeah." She presses her lips together. "Maybe we could go through a drive-through."
I have to laugh. "And I'm the one trying to draw attention."
Her cheeks flush. "Okay, we can go in. I'm not the one who hired a limo."
"I flew to Vegas from San Francisco."
"You could have rented a car."
"Excuse me from attempting to start my honeymoon right."
The smile falls off her face. Her gaze goes to the floor. "Oh. Well. That's… you ordered this limo last night?"
"Yeah."
"That's very romantic, thanks."
"I ordered it so we could fuck all the way home."
She laughs.
"I'm not romantic."
"You married a stranger in Las Vegas. That's not something a cynic does." Her gaze goes to her engagement ring. She keeps her voice neutral, even as she stares at the ring. "I am hungry. Don't laugh, but I want Chipotle."
"Why would I laugh?"
"Californians are particular about Mexican food."
That is true, but— "I'm from the bay. We don't know shit about Mexican food."
"Okay, then Chipotle it is." She pulls out her phone and does a search. "The closest one is an hour and a half away."
"Can you wait?"
She bites her lip. "Maybe we should go through a drive-through."
"Flashy."
She holds up her left hand. "This is flashy." She stares at the ring. "Can you really afford this?"
"First doubting my fame, now this. That's cold, Bella. That's fucking cold."
She raises a brow. "Can you?"
Jewelry is never a smart financial decision, but I'm not going to skimp on my wife's engagement ring. "Yes."
"Sorry, I guess I'm—"
"Nosy."
"A little. It comes with the territory with…" Her eyes go back to her shoes as she trails off. "Let's not talk about that."
I nod.
She reaches down to unzip her boots. "You mind?"
"Depends on how many articles of clothing you're going to remove."
She smiles. "You're trouble."
"You just figuring that out?"
"No." Bella peels off her boots and sits on the bench cross-legged. She turns to me. "You were looking at your phone."
"Warning my friend Kit… he's planning a Christmas proposal. I don't want to steal his thunder."
"Kit." Her eyes light up with recognition. "Oh, Christopher Lockhart. The bassist." Her expression gets sheepish. "I feel like a stalker, knowing all that."
"I don't mind."
She presses her cell phone into the bench seat. "Did you tell anyone besides your friend Christopher? Kit, I guess?"
"No. But they'll find out."
"My dad… he would think you're trouble. A bad boy phase. A quarter-life crisis."
"Who says I'm not trouble?"
She laughs. "You have tattoos, sure. But you… You're a sweet guy. Deep down."
"How do you know?"
"I remember that. I can't remember a lot of what happened last night, but I still feel this connection. It's stupid."
"It's not."
She presses her lips together. "Joel, um… don't take this the wrong way, but why did you sleep with me?"
"You fishing for more compliments about your tits? I'm happy to oblige if you are, but I demand another look at them first."
Her blush deepens. "No, I mean… we were drinking a lot."
"I tried to turn you down."
She shoots me that same incredulous look.
"You got very demanding."
"No way."
"I'll show you."
"Okay."
"But you have to play me."
She raises a brow. "Do I?"
I nod. My hands go to her hips. I keep the grip loose. "Lie back on the bench seat."
"That's what you were doing, lying down?"
I nod.
She turns enough to lean back on her elbows. She giggles as she falls onto her back. "Why do I feel like I'm being seduced?"
"You're playing Joel. Remind me I'm drunk three times before you give me the time of day."
"Did I really—"
"Yes." It was adorable. And hot. Once Bella is lying back on the bench seat, I drag my fingers up her blouse. I play with her bottom button. "Joel, baby, let's go to bed."
"Did I really call you baby?"
I nod. "Now, stop breaking character."
She drops her voice an octave. "Bella, you're drunk."
I shake my head as I straddle her. Fuck, this is not my wisest move. I'm already getting all sorts of ideas about stripping her out of her clothes and fucking her. But I'm staying in character. "I'm not." I undo her bottom button then I trail my fingers over the soft skin of her stomach. Over the waistband of her jeans. "I want you to fuck me, baby. I want you to make me come like you did at the club. I've never come like that before. I mean came. That's the past tense of come, right?"
Her cheeks flush. She clears her throat, trying to stay in character. "You're too drunk. Later."
"If I was drunk, would I really be able to conjugate the verb to come?" I shake my head. "I'm only a little tipsy." I pull my t-shirt over my head then I take her hand and press it against my pec. "It's okay if you don't want to. Just say that."
"I, um, we should wait until tomorrow."
"If you're sure." I drag her hand over my chest and press her palm flat against my breastbone. "But I don't want to wait. I want to fuck you now. I want you to come right here."
"Oh my God." Her eyes go wide. "I did not say that."
"You did."
"Really?"
"You were a bossy little thing." I smile at the memory. "Not that I minded."
"No… I… No." She shakes her head. "I've never made any demands."
"You did last night."
"Was that it?"
"Fuck no." I play with her top button as I shift back into character. "Take that off now, baby. Take everything off. I want to look at every inch of you." I grind my hips against hers. "I want to feel that hard cock in my mouth."
"No. I didn't—" Her eyes meet mine. Her cheeks turn the color of a tomato. "I did, didn't I?"
"I could go on."
"No. This is embarrassing enough."
"Nothing embarrassing about asking for what you
want."
Still, her cheeks flush. "I was so shy with Stan, my ex-boyfriend. Once he asked me to talk dirty and I froze. I couldn't do it."
"Apparently, you learned."
"Really?"
I nod.
She gives me a long, slow once-over. "I guess you bring out my bad girl."
7
Bella
It's evening when we finally get to Joel's place.
His apartment is on the beach. And it's beautiful. The hardwood floors are clean and sleek. The electric blue walls are adorned with framed prints of musicians.
The TV is one of those expensive flatscreens.
The bamboo bookshelf in the corner is overflowing. One shelf is filled with movies, another is filled with CDs, another with vinyl.
I turn back to Joel. "Of course you have vinyl," I tease.
"You calling me a hipster?"
"If the jeans fit."
He tugs at his belt loop. "I can lose the jeans."
Yes.
Please.
My head fills with ideas about him naked.
About us on that couch. Against the wall. Out on that balcony.
I want him.
Badly.
And I want to feel as loose and free as I did last night.
But sex leads to feelings. And the two of us are getting a divorce in a week. After that, I'll go back to my life. I'm not sure what my life is going to look like after my transcript of Cs, but I know it's not going to fit the whole sex, drugs, and rock n' roll thing.
It's not compatible with Joel's life.
At most, we'll be pen pals. Email pals. Something like that.
I can't fall for Joel.
Which means I need to be careful about sleeping with Joel.
Even if he's near impossible to resist.
Ahem. "Where am I staying?"
"Over here." Joel leads me to the bedroom and opens the door for me.
The room is decorated with a mix of cool jewel tones—red, purple, blue, teal. White string lights line the walls.
There are framed posters here too, but they're all for classic video games. Or at least older video games. I'm not really a gamer. All my free time goes to reading.
"The bed's yours as long as you want it," he says.
"And you?"
"You're more than welcome to invite me to spend the night with you. Until then, I'll take the couch."
"Aren't we having fun?"
He gives me a funny look. "Would it be fun if I pushed you into fucking me just 'cause I only have one bed?"
"No, I mean…"
"I want to fuck you, Bella. I want to make you come until you forget your name. But I want you to be there, in that moment."
"I didn't mean—"
He nods. "I know." He motions to the bed. "But you should know, that I'm not going to fuck you until you ask."
I swallow hard. "Verbally?"
He nods. "I'm not going to fuck you until you beg me to do it." His pupils dilate. His tongue slides over his lips. "Fuck, I'm getting distracted here. What was I talking about?"
"Sex."
He laughs. "You're not helping." He nods to the sound system in the corner. "You can plug in your phone if the record player doesn't do it for you." He sets my suitcase next to the bed then turns to me. "Have you ever listened to vinyl?"
"I'm not really into music. I mostly listen to Top 40." I cringe anticipating his response.
"What's with that look?"
"I feel like an asshole, telling a rock drummer I don't like music."
"Better than bullshitting me. Besides, you told me last night." He smiles. "You apologized for it a dozen times."
"Really?"
He nods. "It wasn't like you. I get it now. When you're sober, you're a lot more—"
"Polite—"
"Fixated on pleasing other people."
My cheeks flush. "Are you saying that because I made all those demands last night?"
"No, but thank you for reminding me about that." He winks then motions come here. "Not everyone is into music. It's fine. But you should still try listening to an original vinyl."
He takes my hand and leads me back into the living room.
He crouches down to take a look at the bottom shelf, where he keeps his records. "Any band or song you like?"
"I like girl power stuff. Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Gwen Stefani, the Veronicas. That kind of thing."
He turns back to the shelf and picks out an album by the Bee Gees. He goes to the turntable and pulls open the top.
Something in his posture shifts. He's not putting on a flirty facade.
He's not pretending like he's this fun, party animal guy.
His guard is down.
No, it's gone.
He blows on the record then sets it on the turntable. Slowly, he places the needle on the record.
Music fills the room as Joel pushes himself to his feet and moves towards me.
He sets his hands on my hips. "Close your eyes."
"But—"
"You want to see if you like music or not?"
I do. I always feel like I'm missing some important part of life when Anne gushes over how much she loves a song.
"Bella?" Joel runs his fingertips over my sides. "This isn't exactly slow jam material."
I close my eyes and try to take in nothing but the sound of the song.
It's peppy, fast. I shift my hips, trying to catch the beat. It's not like the music I hear on Top 40 stations, the ones with a thumping drum machine. The beat is a little harder to find.
The more I hear of the song, the more I want to move.
I want to dance.
Like last night.
I want to feel the way I did last night. Excited, floaty, free.
Joel slides his arms to my lower back. He pulls my body against his, swaying in time with the beat. "If you want something easier to dance to, I can put on some Spanish music and teach you to Mamba."
"Mamba?"
"Or we could do cha-cha, salsa, merengue. I can teach you to tango too, but it's more complicated."
"You know how to tango?"
"Mom made me take ballroom dance lessons."
I have to laugh at the thought of Joel in some spandex dancer's outfit. Not that I'd mind the sight of him in skintight material.
"Relax." He pulls me closer. "Follow my lead."
"But, can you really dance to 80s pop?"
"Fuck yeah." He presses his palms into my lower back.
I keep my eyes closed as he guides my movements. Damn, his body feels good against mine. It's comforting in this way nothing else is.
I like the song, but it's not what's making an impression.
Joel's arms around me—
His chest against mine—
His breath warm against my ear—
That's better than any song I've ever heard.
The record shifts to the next song. It's another pop number, but it doesn't have the same beat.
"Here." He places his hands back on my hips and guides them to the beat.
I blink my eyes open to stare back at him.
His green eyes fix on mine.
He really has beautiful eyes.
He's close enough to kiss me.
I really want him kissing me.
I want his lips on mine so badly I'm shaking with desire.
But there's this sound. Not the song. Something else.
And a buzz against my thigh.
Joel takes a step backwards. His brow furrows. "Fuck, that's—" He pulls out his cell. "That's my mom. I have to take this."
"Oh. Do you think she saw the gossip?"
He shakes his head. "Probably not. It's… something else."
"Something important."
"Yeah." His posture stiffens. He motions to the balcony. "It might be a while. Make yourself comfortable."
"Yeah, sure."
I watch him go out to the balcony.
He's on a call with his mom.
And h
e doesn't want me to know what they're discussing.
I hate that he's locking me out. Even if I'm the one insisting on divorce.
But Joel… I mean, we had a lot of fun last night, but he didn't exactly fight me on the divorce thing. He must want that too.
Then, he must realize we only have a week too.
He has every right to protect his heart.
But I still hate it.
8
Bella
After I organize my clothes, I move into the main room.
Joel is still on the balcony, but he's no longer on his cell. He has his palms pressed against the railing. His body is turned towards the ocean.
God, that's a beautiful view. I cross the room until I'm in front of the balcony's sliding glass door. My hand goes to the metal handle, but I can't bring myself to join him.
There's something in his expression.
He's hurting.
Over that phone call?
My stomach flip-flops. I want to know what it is that's hurting him. And I want to wipe it away. Not the way I normally do—not by contorting myself into whatever shape will please him most.
I want to be the shoulder he can cry on.
The person who listens.
Who understands him.
Who really cares.
I've never felt like that about anyone. I cared about my college boyfriend, Stan, but I was always "on" with him. I never let my guard down. I never trusted him enough.
And he wasn't the sharing type.
It didn't bother me then.
But Joel hurting all by himself on that balcony…
I hate it.
He catches me staring and shoots me a curious look. "How long have you been standing there, undressing me with your eyes?"
His eyes light up, but not with joy. He's a lightbulb again. He's stepping into a role.
Do I pull him out of it or play along?
I'm not sure.
I move closer. "I have not been undressing you with my eyes."
"If you want me naked, all you have to do is ask."
"Really?"
He cocks a brow. "Only one way to find out."
A huge part of me wants to find out. Despite the low temperature, I'm hot all over.
Yes, please, Joel. Strip for me. Pull my panties to my knees, bend me over the balcony railing, and get me screaming your name.
My cheeks flush. Where did that come from?
Dangerous Rock: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 3) Page 5
