Fractured Hearts: A Fractured Rock Star Romance

by L. M. Dalgleish

  She opened her suitcase and pulled out a lacy bra and panty set. Watching her put on her underwear was just as much of a turn-on as seeing her stripping them off, and he was already getting hard again.

  When she turned back toward him, her eyes automatically drifted down his body before coming to rest on his growing erection. When her eyes widened, he had to force himself not to stalk over there and rip those skimpy pieces of lace right off her gorgeous body. Instead, he shook his head to clear his mind, then reached for her hand and led her out to the front room. Locating their discarded clothes, he pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs.

  “So, what’s the big mystery?” she asked.

  He turned toward her and saw she’d pulled her camera out of its bag.

  “I’m assuming you can put that thing on a timer?”

  She looked down at the camera. “Yeah, I can set it up for a delay of up to twenty seconds. Or I’ve got a remote to trigger it to shoot if you think you’ll need longer than that.”

  “Oh, I’ll definitely need longer than that for what I want to do.” He smiled at the blush that stole over her cheeks. He loved that she reacted that way, even when she was standing in front of him practically naked after he’d made her come multiple times over the last few hours.

  “You’ll need to tell me what you’re planning so I can set the camera up. Though I can probably take a good guess.” She slanted a look at him out of the corner of her eye, a smile playing over her lips.

  “I’m going to teach you how to play the guitar.” He grinned at the surprise on her face.

  “We don’t have a guitar here.”

  “We don’t need one.”

  “I’m so confused,” she said, then laughed.

  God, he loved her laugh; the sound always made him feel lighter. Again, he pushed away the thought of how he would feel when she left—he’d deal with that when it happened. Right now, it was about remembering this moment and this woman. Something he’d never felt the need to do before.

  He pulled a chair out of the corner of the room and placed it in the middle. “We’re going to sit here, and I’m going to teach you how to play the guitar.”

  Lexie’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to teach me how to play the guitar… without a guitar?”

  “That’s right. And I want you to take a photo.”

  She looked at him, biting her bottom lip. “But this isn’t for the photo book, right?”

  “No, this is just for me… for us, I mean. A memento.”

  An emotion flashed across her face, too quick for him to see what it was. But then a smile tipped up the corners of her mouth, and she turned to look at where he’d placed the chair, studying it. He could see her picturing it in her mind, figuring out what she needed to do to make it work. It was a total turn-on seeing her concentrating on her craft; as soon as they did this, he was taking her right back to bed.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll need my tripod.”

  She got it from her case and positioned it at an angle to the front of the chair. Then she set her camera up on it, studied the LCD screen, and pressed a few buttons. “Can you sit over there so I can check the focus?”

  He went over and sat down, leaning back in the chair and watching her adjust the camera.

  “I think I’m going to shoot it as a black-and-white photo,” she said. Her finger pressed the capture button, and then she peeked over the top of the camera at him, a smile on her face. “You look incredible. I could sell that photo for an awful lot of money.”

  “Are you going to?” Not that he really thought she would.

  Her smile dimmed slightly, and then she repeated his words quietly. “That one’s just for me.”

  She straightened and looked at him.

  “All set?” he asked.

  “All set. So now what?”

  “Come here.” He heard the rasp in his voice at the thought of having her in his arms again. Lexie must have heard it too because her eyes darkened, the tight peak of her nipples visible through the sheer lace of her bra.

  She picked up a small remote and came over to stand between his legs, looking down at him with big gray eyes. She looked like a dream, with her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and the smooth expanse of her creamy skin just begging to be stroked.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on what he wanted to do.

  “Okay, sit on my lap with your back to my chest.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him but turned around and sat down, nestling her gorgeous ass against him, making him instantly hard. He was sure she wriggled around a little more than was strictly necessary to get in place.

  “Put your legs over mine.” His voice was husky.

  She moved her slim legs so they were draped over his. Then he ran the fingers of his left hand down her arm, his lips curving up at the trail of goosebumps that followed his touch. He caught her hand in his, then repeated the movement on the other side, with his right hand holding hers. He bent forward so that his chest was flush against her back and his chin rested on her shoulder, then moved her arms and hands to replicate the position they would be in if she were holding a guitar.

  The feel of her smooth warm skin pressed against him had his breathing becoming shallower, but he tried not to let himself get distracted.

  He moved the fingers of her left hand to make a basic chord, then ran his thumb along the back of her right hand. “C,” he whispered and brushed his lips against her neck, hearing her breath hitch as he did so. He moved her fingers again and strummed the back of her right hand. “G.” He trailed his lips down her neck and kissed another spot. “E minor.” Another chord, another kiss, and now her breathing was as shallow as his.

  He kept it up, his hands on hers, his lips on her neck, as both of them got hotter and hotter. He was as hard as a rock underneath her, and he could feel the heat of her core through both layers of their underwear. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. “C.” This time instead of kissing her neck, he brushed his mouth against the shell of her ear. “Lexie?”

  “Y-yes,” came her breathless reply.

  “Take the photo.”

  He felt her start as she remembered what he’d been intending. She’d placed the remote on a nearby table, and she dropped her right hand down and pressed the button before placing her hand back in his. “It’ll shoot in twenty seconds, then twice more over the next minute.”

  He kept going, teaching her the chords to the song he’d sung to her that night at the concert, the one that had made her cry. Probably because it reminded her of her husband, but a selfish part of him hoped that some of it might have been because of him.

  Another chord, another kiss, and then she dropped her head back, turning it to give him better access to her neck. As he pressed his lips to the side of her throat, he heard the shutter click. He kept going, but he knew they were both done with this lesson. He ran his hands back up her arms, using one to tilt her head back as he claimed her mouth in a deep kiss that had her twisting and arching up toward him. The shutter clicked again. He ran his other hand down over her chest and cupped her breast, before moving down further to stroke over the lace of her panties. He heard the shutter go a third time, but he was beyond caring. All he wanted at that moment was to be deep inside her again, imprinting himself on her so she’d never forget him, would never be with another man without thinking of him. He should feel guilty about wanting to ruin her for anyone else when he couldn’t be the man to give her what she needed, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel it.

  Lexie pulled back, then turned so she was straddling him. She ran her hands through his hair as she slanted her mouth over his and ground herself against him. He could feel how wet she was, how her body pressed against him like she couldn’t get close enough. This entire thing had been extended foreplay, and they were both on the knife’s edge.

  He ran his palms down her back and pressed her hips more firmly to his,
thrusting up against her heat. She threw her head back and moaned, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting her hips so he could reach under her, he pulled his underwear down and kicked them off. Then he put his fingers into the side of her panties and dragged them off her. He felt her hands move down to his shoulders so she could raise herself enough that the head of his cock slid through her slick folds.

  “Fuck, Lexie,” he groaned. Her left hand dropped away from his shoulder for a second, and then she was pressing down onto him, engulfing him in her tight, wet heat. Connor struggled to get enough air in his lungs as she took him in, rocking her hips as she slowly worked her way down his length. Just as she bottomed out, he reached up and brought her lips down to his, his tongue thrusting into the sweetness of her mouth. As he did, he heard the click of the camera shutter again and realized she must have triggered the remote. The thought that he couldn’t wait to see those photos percolated through his lust-filled brain, but then was lost as Lexie slowly lifted off him and then dropped back down, just as the shutter clicked a second time. He knew he wasn’t going to last long—the pressure building was too much, too intense, he just needed her to get there before he did. He reached down between them and circled her clit, once, twice, three times and she came. Her head dropped back, breasts arched up, and body clenching hard around him. That’s all he needed. He gripped her hips and thrust up, groaning her name as he came harder than he ever had before. The shutter clicked a third time.

  Chapter 38

  When Connor’s alarm had gone off that morning, he’d almost said screw it and stayed right where he was, curled around Lexie’s warm, soft body. At this stage, did he care if the others learned they’d been sleeping together? But he’d ended up forcing himself out of the bed, because he wasn’t sure how Lexie would feel about people knowing, and he didn’t want to upset her.

  After getting dressed, he stood looking down at her for a long minute, frustrated by the push and pull of his emotions. His eyes swept over her sleeping form: her dark hair fanned out over the pillow, long lashes brushing her cheekbones, and lips slightly parted. She was beautiful—inside and out—and that unfamiliar emotion rose in his chest again. The one he’d been trying not to think too hard about over the last few weeks. Part of him wanted to bend down, kiss her, stroke her awake, and hold her close—to lose himself in her. The other part of him wanted to walk away and never look back. The way he’d always been able to before.

  Connor scrubbed a hand over his face, then sighed and left her sleeping. It was still early morning, but there was no way he could get back to sleep, so when he returned to his room, he took a shower to try to clear his mind. In a few days, the turmoil he was feeling about Lexie would no longer be an issue. She’d leave, he’d deal with whatever fallout there might be, and then things would go back to normal. Well, as normal as his life ever got, anyway.

  He was just turning the water off in the shower when he heard his cell phone ring. He checked the clock, brow furrowed, wondering who was calling him that early in the morning. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he walked over to where his phone sat on the bedside table. His aunt’s name was on the screen, and he frowned, answering and putting it on speaker while he dressed.

  “Connor, my boy, I’m sorry to call you so early. I hope I didn’t wake you.” His aunt’s voice, with its still-strong Irish accent, was normally soothing, but the unusual timing of the call had him on edge. She sounded tense rather than distraught though, which meant there probably wasn’t anything seriously wrong.

  “No, it’s fine, I was just having a shower. What’s the matter?”

  She sighed heavily. “I had a phone call from Ireland this morning.” He tensed as she paused, knowing a call from there couldn’t mean anything good. “I’m sorry, Connor. I hate to tell you this over the phone, but your da is dead.”

  Connor went still as he tried to absorb her words. “Dad’s dead? He was only in his early fifties. What happened?”

  “Apparently it was a heart attack, so it was quick. Not like… well, not like it could have been.”

  Connor knew she was talking about his mom’s long and painful death. He clenched his jaw at the thought his mom had to go through all that pain, while his dad had gone quickly. Not that he wished anyone a painful death, but still, it didn’t seem fair somehow.

  He wondered if his aunt was expecting him to go to the bastard’s funeral. Any love or concern he’d had for his dad had died a long time ago. He didn’t owe the man anything, and he certainly wouldn’t cut short the tour to fly back to Ireland for it. Considering the miserable bastard his dad had been, there probably wouldn’t be anyone at his funeral, anyway.

  “I’m not going to the funeral,” he stated bluntly, just in case his aunt was preparing to convince him it was the right thing to do.

  There was a pregnant pause on his aunt’s side before she responded quietly. “They’ve already had the funeral, lad. I only just found out this morning, but they buried him a few days ago.”

  Connor was stunned. Not that he’d wanted to go, but to not even be given the option to attend his own father’s funeral was fucked up.

  “Well, who buried him since we’re his only family? Can they even do that without contacting next of kin?”

  Another heavy pause, and his muscles tensed in anticipation of what she was going to say next. When she spoke, the sympathy was clear in her voice. “His wife and stepson buried him. He remarried a few years back. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you when it happened, but he didn’t want to talk to you about it, and I didn’t want him to hurt you any more than he already had.”

  Connor sat down on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. That bloody bastard. His father had thrown him away without a second thought and then gone and got himself a whole new family. He hadn’t even bothered to contact Connor to let him know.

  “Who called you to tell you he was dead?” It was the only thing he could think of to ask.

  “His wife. She was going through his address book and found my contact details.”

  He didn’t want to ask but couldn’t help himself. “She didn’t think to try to call me?”

  Another pause had him bracing for another blow. “She didn’t know about you, love. I don’t think your da ever told her. She thought I was his only family, and I figured I’d keep it that way. No point opening a can of worms and having your name getting out in the press.”

  “Thanks,” Connor responded mechanically, but numbness had taken over. What had he ever done to make his dad hate him? Hate him so much that he’d cut him out of his life and not even acknowledge his existence? What sort of man can turn his back on his child just because of the pain of losing his wife? It was a fucking joke.

  His aunt was still talking, trying to make it better somehow, but Connor didn’t want to think about it anymore. He was done with this conversation, he was done with thinking about his dad, and he was done with being hurt over someone who’d stopped loving him a long time ago—if he’d ever loved him at all.

  He interrupted his aunt. “Well, thanks for letting me know. I’ve got to head out now, but I’ll call you when the tour is over. I’ll come for a visit.”

  He barely waited for her to finish apologizing again and telling him she’d love to see him before he hung up.

  He paced his room, his jaw clenched as anger burned through him, barely stopping himself from punching the wall. For a second, he considered knocking on Lexie’s door and talking to her about it, but then realized what a mistake that would be. She wasn’t a permanent part of his life; she was just passing through on her way to somewhere else—to someone else. Which was fine with him, because he sure as hell didn’t want to get emotionally involved with a woman who was still in love with another man. Even if that man was dead. Especially if that man was dead. Because he’d already learned the hard way that you can’t compete with a ghost for someone’s affections. You’d always come up short.

  He never again wanted to allow someone
to be in a position where they could hurt him. Now he’d screwed up by spending time with Lexie, by letting her play with his emotions, by starting to rely on her to be there for him. Because relying on Lexie to be there for him was a mistake. One he couldn’t afford to make when he knew she’d walk away and not look back when this was done. When it came down to it, the only people that truly cared about him, as a person, were his bandmates and his aunt. That’s what he had to remember. He was furious at himself for almost falling into the trap of getting too close to Lexie, and furious at her for coming into his life and making him feel things he didn’t want to.

  Connor closed his eyes and tried taking calming breaths. But the fury whipping through him didn’t subside. He needed to get out of his room before he did something stupid. Like trash it. He picked up the phone and called down to the band’s security detail to have someone meet him so he could get the hell out of there.

  Chapter 39

  When Lexie woke the next morning, Connor had gone, leaving her satisfied but slightly sore in both body and heart. She lay in bed for a few minutes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, wondering how she would ever meet someone else who could make her feel the things Connor did.

  Sighing, she threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. She considered looking at the photos they’d taken the night before but decided she was too emotionally raw to do it just then. Better to wait until she was less likely to cry when she saw them.

  Biting her lip, Lexie wondered how they had turned out. She’d never been naked in front of the camera before and certainly never taken photos while she was having sex. After the first three she’d taken for Connor, she’d had an overwhelming urge to capture the way they fit together, the way he made her feel when he was inside her. She was afraid that after they parted ways, her memory of their time together would fade, the same way she’d always feared her memories of Damien would.

  Lexie fought back the tears that were always too close to the surface these days and headed to the bathroom to have a shower. Glimpsing herself in the mirror, she stopped in front of it and ran a finger lightly over the mark Connor had left on her neck. She wondered what she should do about it since it would be visible in most of her clothes. While he’d deliberately marked her skin, she was sure he didn’t want everyone to see it and start asking questions. The last thing Connor would want is for everyone to know what was going on between them.