Dangerous Rock: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 3)

by Crystal Kaswell

  Mal shakes his head you're ridiculous. He turns to me. "Do me a favor, Bella, and don't let him get away with this shit."

  "Joel does a lot of shit," I say. "You'll have to be specific.

  "Hey." Joel mimes being stabbed in the gut.

  Mal ignores him. "I'm going to tell you a secret." Mal raises his voice. "But I'm going to tell it Joel style."

  Joel style must mean loud.

  "Oh, whatever could you mean?" Joel shouts back. "I can't follow your subtle and hilarious comedy."

  Mal blows him a kiss then turns to me. "Joel likes to watch. And listen. He plays up his wacky comedy routine to try to convince people he's teasing. But he's not. Don't fall for his shit."

  "Joel likes to watch?" I press my fingertips into my sides to temper the heat racing through me. I like the idea of Joel watching me. I like it a lot.

  "Should she tie me up?" Joel asks.

  His voice is that teasing tone. Like he's trying to convince us he's joking.

  But his eyes…

  Fuck, his eyes are filled with this expression of pure need.

  He does like to watch.

  Mal chuckles, not buying it. "Yeah. She should tie you up, strip, and make you watch her touch herself. She should fucking torture you making you watch."

  "You inviting yourself to this party?" Joel asks.

  Mal raises a brow. "You relaxing that no threesomes with bandmates rule?"

  Uh…

  Joel slides his arm around my waist. "You okay, angel?"

  "I think so." No, I am. As attractive as Mal is—seriously, he's tall, broad, and covered in tattoos—I don't want him joining me and Joel in bed. However— "Well, I liked Mal's idea. I think we should try it later."

  Mal chuckles.

  Joel's pupils dilate. He really does like that idea.

  Fuck, I'm hot.

  I want to skip this party and go back home right away.

  Damn, it's hard to think about anything but making desire spread over his face.

  I want to tie him up.

  I want to make him watch me strip.

  Touch myself.

  Fuck myself.

  Fuck, I can't believe I'm actually considering this.

  Not just considering it, but craving it.

  "Joel didn't tell me how you met," Mal says.

  "I didn't tell her how we met either," Joel says.

  "How did you meet?" I bite my tongue so I won't add there wasn't much about your band's origin on Wikipedia.

  Mal chuckles. "Your husband doesn't like being told what to do."

  "Not by obnoxious vocalists." Joel winks at me. "I like certain people getting bossy."

  My cheeks flush, but I manage to keep my breath steady.

  Mal doesn't even blink. He's not at all moved by Joel's banter. He turns to me, completely ignoring Joel's interruption. "You ever listen to Sinful Serenade?"

  "Maybe. I mostly listen to pop from when I was in high school, Lady Gaga and Rhianna. But I think Anne, my sister, likes them. They have the singer who always sounds like he's coming?" I ask.

  "As opposed to Mal, who sounds like he's in the middle of a fuck," Joel says.

  "You've been listening?" Mal teases.

  "You fucking know I've been listening." Joel shoots me a flirty glance. "I always listen."

  Mal nods. "Yeah, their singer is always moaning. Seems to be working for them. Women eat it up."

  "You don't seem to do too badly," I say.

  Mal chuckles. "We do all right."

  Joel moans through his words, copying the Sinful Serenade singer's style. "Is this kind, of, ooh, ooh, moaaaaaning siiiiinging really more disturbing than—" he switches to Mal's breathy style- "this, uh, uh heavy, breathing, like I'm fucking. So. Hard. I. Can't. Breathe?"

  "I'm not sure what point you're making, but I would very much like you to continue making it," I say.

  Seriously.

  Joel moaning then panting…

  Damn, my husband really knows how to torture me.

  Joel winks. "You know how to get me moaning, angel."

  I take a deep breath. It does nothing to cool me down. But it does bring clarity.

  Joel is deflecting.

  But why?

  There must be something about this story that makes him uncomfortable.

  "You don't think I can hold my own with the moans?" Mal's stare is a challenge.

  "Don't you get enough attention on tour?" Joel asks.

  "Define enough," Mal says.

  "If you're still hurting for people to look at you and hear the pain in your voice, then go to some karaoke bar. Groan through a song and get women throwing their panties on stage. You'll get plenty of attention." Joel shakes his head with mock incredulity.

  Mal chuckles. "What do you think, Bella? I think Joel should get up on stage and serenade you."

  "Blue Oyster Cult didn't write any love songs," Kit calls.

  "Nobody asked for your fucking opinion." Joel shakes his head. His hair falls over his eyes. "I know a lot of sweet fucking love songs."

  "Everything by The Cure," Mal offers.

  "It's not a fucking crime liking 80s music." Joel shoots me a panty-melting expression. "I was thinking Like A Prayer."

  I'm only somewhat aware of 80s music. I know that's a Madonna song, but I always thought it was about… well, I guess it's one big reference to oral sex.

  Oh.

  My blush spreads to my chest. "Um, I think Mal was telling me the story of how Dangerous Noise formed."

  "Joel's good at derailing shit," Mal says.

  He really is.

  Mal continues. "Dangerous Noise used to be Joel and Kit. This guy named Gavin was their singer. And Drew, the guitarist who's in Sinful Serenade now, was—"

  "Their guitarist," I offer.

  Mal nods. "They all went to college together. Well, no, I think Drew and Miles were at a better school than Kit and Joel."

  Joel flips him off.

  Mal chuckles. "Kit and Joel dropped out pretty fast. Drew and Gavin too, actually. But now I'm getting off track." Mal shoots Joel a knowing look then his gaze goes back to me. "Gavin was good. Not as good as me, or as good as Miles, but he was good. Only he had an attitude. Even worse than mine."

  "I still can't believe that happened," Joel says.

  Mal nods. "It's hard to fathom."

  "You're okay with everyone thinking you're bossy and annoying?" I ask.

  "Who's calling me annoying?" Mal feigns hurt.

  "Mal loves people knowing how bossy he is. He thinks it will make us all respect him," Joel says.

  "You respect me, Young," Mal says.

  Joel shrugs, but his expression is clear. He does respect Mal.

  In fact, it's clear everyone respects Mal. Maybe he assumed the position of de facto leader, and maybe people get irritated about it, but they all respect him.

  "We're all used to getting what we want, whenever we want it. Makes shit difficult. I'm sure you've noticed that about Joel," Mal says.

  "She's too busy thinking about me naked," Joel says.

  I am busy thinking about Joel naked. But not at all too busy.

  Mal turns to Joel. "You want to stop interrupting or you want to tell the story?"

  "I want to keep interrupting," Joel says. "Is that an option?"

  I squeeze his hand. "I want to hear the story."

  Joel nods to Mal go ahead.

  He does. "Shit was okay with Dangerous Noise, until Drew started dating Gavin's ex. You know men with egos. The last thing they can stand is a woman leaving them then coming with someone else."

  I don't know that. My ex and I left on pretty amicable terms. But I do get his meaning. The thought of Joel with another woman is awful.

  But the thought of Joel, naked, in bed, screaming some other woman's name…

  Fuck, my stomach is already churning.

  Mal continues. "Drew bailed to join Sinful Serenade. Their drummer and bassist used to be in a band with Ethan."

&
nbsp; "He plays guitar, right?" I ask.

  Mal nods.

  "And you sing. Why weren't you in the band?" I ask.

  "'Cause he was too busy getting laid." Joel clears his throat. "He didn't have time to waste with rock star bullshit. He only remembers all this shit because it was how he got to be in charge."

  He's covering.

  Mal is nodding. He's on board with it.

  Joel's eyes catch mine. Something passes between us, something I can't quite explain.

  He knows I know he's full of it.

  I nod go ahead.

  He does. "Mal only puts up with us because it means he gets several thousand women screaming his name every night."

  Mal chuckles. "Short story is, Tom, the Sinful Serenade drummer, is a force of nature. He wouldn't rest until Kit and Joel gave me and Ethan a shot. We'd been playing together for years. Joel thought I was bossy and annoying right away."

  "I still do," Joel teases.

  "But I'm more tolerable than Gavin or Drew," Mal says.

  "Marginally."

  "You're not so tolerable yourself, Young." Mal motions to me. "You're lucky you found a woman who wants to put up with you."

  "Yeah. I'm really fucking lucky." He slides his arms around me and he kisses me hard and deep.

  I melt.

  Joel turns more and more "on" with every arrival. Then his mom and Kit's parents get back, and he's brighter than a 150 watt bulb.

  He really is an entertainer. He teases all of his friends. He charms the pants off Kit's parents. He keeps the conversation going all throughout appetizers and dinner.

  It's a nice party, a nice night. The home cooked food is fantastic. The conversation is flowing. And Joel is doing an expert job deflecting attention from me.

  Every time someone asks about our engagement, our marriage, our wedding night, he finds a way to change the subject.

  He's really good at pushing people's buttons.

  But I can tell it's wearing on him. I can see the cracks in his smile. I can see the exhaustion in his eyes. I can see the tension knotting in his shoulders.

  It's exactly how I feel at every family function, at every study group, at every one of my family's fancy catered affairs.

  He's trying to keep the party going by entertaining.

  I do it by keeping the peace.

  It exhausts both of us.

  I like Joel's friends. They're sweet and fun and they seem supportive.

  But I still feel like I'm "on" too.

  We say goodbye to our friends, drive Trish to the airport, say goodbye to her.

  I'm very, very glad to be alone with Joel in his car.

  To be heading back to our apartment.

  To watch another Harry Potter movie on the couch.

  To climb into bed with Joel.

  He whispers in my ear as he runs his fingertips over my wrists. "Means the fucking world to me that you told me that."

  My chest gets warm. "It means the world to me that you… that you didn't run away."

  "No fucking way." He presses his lips to my forehead. "Tomorrow… I'll tell you about all that shit with my parents tomorrow."

  "Yeah?"

  He nods. "I've never shown anyone the ugly parts of me." He pulls me closer. "But I do really fucking trust you."

  28

  Joel

  Two days until our divorce date.

  I might only have two more days with her.

  The thought nags at me through breakfast.

  Through coffee.

  I push it aside as we walk over to the hipster shops on Abbot Kinney. By the time I'm done with my second cup, I've got that dread in some tiny box at the bottom of my gut.

  I'm here.

  In this moment.

  That's what I do. That's what I'm good at.

  And it's what I want.

  Bella buys two new outfits. Ones that would be ridiculously out of place in a New York winter.

  Ones that show off her amazing tits and her fantastic ass.

  That's got to be a good sign.

  That, or I'm thinking with my cock.

  But, I'd rather think about getting Bella off at lunch than about what happens if we call this off.

  I manage to keep my hands to myself—mostly—as she finishes touring the shops. But when we're finally walking into a hipster sandwich shop, I can't help myself.

  I slide my hand over her ass and pull her close.

  Her body feels good against mine.

  It's already afternoon. We're well past lunchtime. My stomach is growling and this place smells amazing. Like garlic and fresh bread.

  But I still want her more than I want food.

  More than I want anything.

  The guy at the counter of this offbeat sandwich shop is giving me that I know him from somewhere look. Thankfully, he says nothing as he hands me my credit card.

  I motion to the empty corner in the back. "Why don't you grab our seats?"

  "Sure." Bella bites her bottom lip. She knows exactly what I have in mind for that secluded corner. She tries to play cool as she grabs our water cups, but her gait is unsteady.

  She's in flat shoes. There's no reason for her to be stumbling.

  No reason except her needing exactly the same thing I need.

  I pull a hundred from my wallet, press it flat to the counter, and look the hipster guy in the eyes. "We want a little privacy."

  The hipster guy nods with understanding. He takes the bill with a smile. "Sure thing." He motions to the mason jar filled with a bright red laminated 76. "Don't forget your number."

  Okay, sure. We're the only people here. It's ridiculous that we need a number. But I know how this sort of thing goes. It's the way my dad thinks.

  A policy is a policy. And since I don't give a fuck about the policy, I'm not about to argue.

  I'm not about to do anything that could make it impossible to get what I want.

  My cock rouses at the thought of spreading Bella's legs and stroking her to orgasm in that tiny booth.

  Fuck, it's tempting.

  Painfully tempting.

  But my cock is going to have to wait.

  I need Bella panting.

  I need her dripping with desire.

  I need to be sure that she's never wanted anything as badly as she wants my hands on her skin.

  Shit. This isn't helping get blood back to my brain.

  I grab another glass, fill it with ice and water, and down every drop. That does little to cool me off.

  Bella is sitting in that tiny both, her pretty dress falling over her crossed legs.

  When her eyes catch mine, she uncrosses her legs and spreads them apart. Her skirt hikes up her thighs. Then her legs are crossing again and she's wearing a coy smile.

  Fuck, she looks cute in that dress. Its flower pattern is sweet and innocent. The purple cardigan over her shoulders only adds to the schoolgirl charm.

  I take a seat next to her. My gaze goes straight to the creamy skin of her inner thigh.

  It's hard to think about anything but getting my hand under that dress.

  But I promised her I'd talk.

  And I am a man of my word.

  She hikes her skirt enough to show off her lace panties.

  Her voice is bold, confident. "Your jaw is about to hit the floor."

  "I asked the guy at the counter to give us privacy."

  "Good." She smiles. "I want to talk to you."

  "You're not encouraging conversation."

  She presses her lips together. Then her knees. Her cheeks flush. Her voice gets needy. "Even so."

  "If you pull that dress any higher, I'm going to make you come."

  Her fingers curl into her thighs. That flush spreads to her chest. She wants me. Badly.

  And I want that.

  I want her.

  She brings her mouth to my ear. "I want to make you wait."

  My cock stirs. God damn, the confidence in her voice… "I like you bold."

  "Me too
." She presses her lips to my neck. "But you're not going to sweet talk your way out of this."

  "This?"

  "I'm making you wait." Her voice is shaky, but she presses on. "I'm going to make you desperate with desire before I give you what you want."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." The shakiness is gone. Her voice is all confidence. She pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. "I do want to talk to you."

  I cock a brow.

  "Not dirty talk. Well, maybe a little." She wraps her fingers around her water glass. "I like who I am around you."

  "I like who you are around me."

  "I don't feel like that with anyone else." She brings her glass to her lips and takes a long sip.

  Water dribbles over her lips and chin.

  Her eyes fill with a fiery expression.

  An I'm enjoying torturing you expression.

  She's doing it on purpose.

  There's only one place my mind can go.

  Damn do I want to be filling her mouth.

  Pushing her limits.

  Coming on her pretty red lips.

  Fuck, I've taught her too well. Blood is fleeing my brain at an alarming rate.

  We're here for a reason.

  But it's eluding me at the moment.

  Bella laughs. "You're distracting."

  "Speak for yourself."

  She recrosses her legs and pulls her dress down her thigh. "Does that help?"

  "Yeah, but I prefer it the other way."

  Her voice gets serious. "I… I do want to talk."

  I want to fuck her, hard.

  But we need to have this conversation.

  I nod and scoot far enough away to get my cock to settle down.

  Bella smiles. "This sounds silly, but I really like when you look at me like that."

  "Like I want you naked, under me, screaming my name?"

  She blushes. "It makes me feel sexy. I've never felt like that before."

  I cock a brow. Her voice is even. Her expression is earnest. Even so— "I have a hard time believing that."

  "I've only been with two guys before you. One was a fling before law school. No time for that. Stan, he wasn't verbal about that kind of thing. We had sex. And it was fine. He was attentive. But I kept thinking I needed to be what he wanted, to act how he wanted, to please him—"

  "Did he get you off?"

  "He tried, but I couldn't usually relax enough. I got anxious when he'd go down on me. Or when he touched me. I guess I shouldn't talk about sex with my ex-boyfriend."