Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3)

by Jaine Diamond

  “No.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Oh, bae. I would never lie to you.”

  “Don’t you dare call me bae and then lie to me. I thought you two weren’t hooking up—”

  “Oops, gotta go!”

  Ronan had appeared in the doorway behind me; I saw him in the mirror. I hung up on Elle and turned to him.

  He leaned a shoulder on the doorframe and looked me slowly up and down, drinking me and my purple lingerie in.

  “You ready?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “Do I look ready?”

  “You look ready for something.”

  I leaned back on the counter as he advanced toward me. His eyes were locked on mine, and I knew that look.

  I fucking loved that look.

  Desire surged in my core. My limbs flooded with warmth and I felt weirdly faint as he pressed in. The man had some serious sex magic going on. He did things to my body I was never quite ready for, even when we weren’t having sex.

  He took my head in his strong hands and laid a kiss on me, and I completely melted. I fumbled around down below until I found his fly, and tore open his jeans.

  He scooped me up and shoved me onto the counter, sending my cosmetics flying as he pressed his body between my legs. Then he slid a hand down into my panties… and sent me to the moon.

  And that was how, on our very first official date, Ronan and I had hot, frantic sex on my bathroom counter before we even made it to dinner.

  As it turned out, Ronan had made us a dinner reservation, at a very nice restaurant. Good thing, because after all the hot sex, we were hungry as hell.

  We were shown to a private booth tucked into a back corner. When we were seated, I ignored the place settings that would’ve had us sitting several feet apart across the giant table, and slid right over next to Ronan on the curved bench seat.

  I loved booths.

  The only thing that could potentially kill the excitement of this date, for me, was the fact that we weren’t alone.

  Nope. We had security.

  Since Ronan would be “distracted” while he was on this date with me, he’d insisted on having Andre meet us here. He was seated several tables away, at a hightop by the bar, with a good vantage point of the room, the entrance, the exits—and of course, us.

  “Does Andre know we’re on a date?” I asked Ronan as we got settled. I was sitting way too close to him for a professional dinner.

  “Who knows,” he said vaguely. But he didn’t make any move to put more space between us.

  “Did he ask you if we’re on a date?”

  “He did.”

  “And?”

  “And… I neither confirmed nor denied. But I did tell him to mind his own damn business.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “No. I was a little less polite about it than that.”

  I glanced over at Andre, who was pretending not to watch us as he eyed the crowd and sipped a glass of water.

  “Hmm. You realize the man isn’t blind or stupid.”

  “Nope. Quite the opposite. He’s one of my best guys. He leads one of my event security crews, and I’ve put him on close protection with several VIP clients over the years.”

  “Uh-huh. And you think there’s any way in hell he’s not gonna suspect we’re on a date right now?”

  “He can suspect all he wants,” Ronan said, cooly sipping his water. “But it’s none of his—”

  “Damn business,” I finished for him. “Well, I guess I can’t complain. Since you’ve made it his business to watch our asses tonight… so I can have your ass all to myself.”

  Ronan cocked an eyebrow at me, and his gaze dragged down my body in a way that reminded me of the crazy-intense fuck we’d had on my bathroom counter less than an hour ago. I could still feel him. I could still see his cock ramming into me… He’d ordered me to watch it while he fucked me.

  I felt a little dizzy just thinking about it.

  “Hey, now. What kind of girl do you think I am?” I picked up my menu, hoping I didn’t look too damn flustered. “If you think I’m putting out twice before dinner on a first date, you’re wrong. I’m fucking hungry.”

  He gave me a slow smirk.

  We perused the menu, put in our orders when the server came by, and when our drinks arrived, I raised my Crantini to his draft beer.

  “You’re drinking with me,” I observed, delighted, as he tapped his glass to mine.

  “I am,” he said, and sipped.

  “So, you do actually drink.”

  “I do.”

  “This is so exciting,” I purred.

  He just smiled.

  “What?” I prompted.

  “I like that about you,” he admitted. “Your unbridled excitement about things. You say exactly how you feel, and you don’t apologize for it. You don’t apologize for anything. You dance, you eat, you flirt, and you fuck like you don’t care who’s looking.”

  “Ronan, if you’re gonna start this date by flirting with me like that, you better believe you’re getting laid again.”

  “I fucking hope so.” He took a lazy sip of his beer. The chemistry crackled between us, but it was warm and comfortable, temporarily sated by the pre-dinner sex, so I felt like I could relax and just luxuriate in his attention.

  There was no hurry. Time to enjoy dinner and drinks, then get to all the delicious sex later.

  “What should we talk about?” I asked him. “You know I’ll talk about pretty much anything. You’re the quiet one. So you go first.”

  “Okay,” he said. “When are you planning on telling your parents that we’re fucking?”

  I sipped my drink, considering. “Uh… would ‘never’ be an inappropriate answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “When are you planning on telling Andre, and the rest of the world?” I asked him.

  “Soon.”

  “See?”

  “See what? I’m keeping things tight, for now, for your protection. There’s no harm in telling your parents about us.”

  “Okay. Well, how about I tell them… sometime at a future date to be determined?”

  He shook his head. “This is the part I don’t get. You’re unapologetic in the way you live your life. Except you’re also a thirty-year-old daddy’s girl who won’t tell her parents who she’s seeing?”

  I pretended to consider that assessment. “Yup. That’s about right.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why won’t you tell them about our relationship?”

  “Because… I don’t want my dad to worry that your ability to protect me is somehow… compromised… by our personal relationship?”

  He frowned at me. He heard the question in my voice. He knew I was pulling that answer out of my ass because I thought it might satisfy him.

  “If that were the truth, I might understand,” he said. “But since it’s bullshit, maybe you want to take a stab at telling me the truth?”

  “Fine. It’s not that I don’t want Dad to know about our relationship, exactly,” I began, as diplomatically as I could. “It’s just… a touchy subject. My parents have liked some of my boyfriends over the years. But sometime around the coke-snorting mortgage broker, they lost faith. I guess they assumed since I was twenty-seven it was about time I found Prince Charming and rode off into the sunset. They were disappointed that wasn’t happening, and when I made the mistake of confiding in them about all the dirty details of that ugly breakup… they kinda flipped out. I learned not to tell them so much.” I shrugged. “They have a different life. They come from a different time.”

  “They’re not that old,” Ronan pointed out.

  “I know. But they met so young. They were barely twenty. My dad was nineteen when I was born. He went through that first breakup and then met Joanne and it was love at first sight. They hooked up so fast and never looked back. They’re old school. Marry young, make babies, family is everything… etcetera.”

 
“Wait…” Ronan was studying me, trying to follow. “Your dad had a first marriage?”

  “Not a marriage. They never got married, but yes. He was with my mom first. My biological mom, I mean.”

  “Joanne’s not your mom?”

  “Joanne is definitely my mom. As much as my biological mom is. More so, in some ways. But yes, I have another mom.”

  “Huh,” he said, sipping his beer as he absorbed that. “And where is she?”

  “She lives in Victoria, too. Alone. She grew up there, and she never got married after her and Dad broke up. I was just a baby when that happened. I don’t even have memories of them together.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Hmm. Hard to explain,” I said, wondering if I really had to. “Are you really interested in this?”

  “Of course,” he said, like he was surprised I’d even ask.

  “Okay.” I searched for the right words to describe the woman who’d given me life, kinda skipped out on raising me, and whom I still loved, but didn’t totally respect. “Well, she was a single mom, and she wasn’t all that great at it. I don’t fault her for that. I think being a single mom has to be about the hardest job on the planet. I was supposed to be with her half-time, but my dad and Joanne wanted me with them more than that, especially after Justice came along. He was born when I was three.”

  “You’re half-siblings?”

  “Yes, biologically. But he’s always been my little brother. Him and Dad and Mom… Joanne, I mean… they were my family. And honestly, Mom was always okay with that. My other mom… let’s just call her Sharon. That’s her name. Sharon never fought to see me more. I remember her dropping me off at Dad’s place even when I was supposed to be with her for the weekend or whatever. She’d last one day and then she’d take me back. She struggled to be a mom. She struggled with money even though my dad paid support. She struggled to keep jobs, to keep friends.”

  “She doesn’t sound much like you,” Ronan observed.

  “She’s not. I’m a lot like my dad, and his mom. Other than our matching noses, I swear, I have zero in common with my biological mom. I always got along way better with Joanne.”

  “It’s nice, though, that you call them both Mom.”

  “Yeah, I do. Joanne’s been there for me in more ways than Sharon has, though. And she’s been good for my dad. They’re a great couple. They’re still in love, like a couple of teenagers. They have great chemistry. I’ve caught them making out way more times than I’d like to remember.”

  Ronan chuckled.

  “Sharon, on the other hand… I’ve never even known her to have a boyfriend. She tries, but they never stick around.”

  He considered that. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Because she’s never been comfortable in her own skin, and people can sense that. She’s not all that… fun… to be around. She’s the last woman who would ever throw a party. And if she did… who would come?”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. She’s socially awkward. She’s always broke. She’s alone…”

  “In other words, all the things you never want to be,” Ronan said.

  “That’s very perceptive,” I said, a little uncomfortable. “Now, why don’t we talk about something else.”

  He smirked a little. “Not your favorite topic?”

  I sighed. “I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t love my mom. Sharon, I mean. I do.”

  “But…?” he said. “I’m sensing a but there.”

  “But…” I tried to put it as honestly yet fairly as I could. “Some people are a little harder to love than others.”

  I gazed at the man next to me, wondering how hard he would be to love.

  Not hard. Not hard at all.

  Damn… I was in trouble here.

  I was falling for him, already. I could feel it.

  I was way too intrigued by the thought of him sticking around.

  And if he was planning on turning stony on me at some point and walking away… it was gonna be fucking hard. It was gonna hurt like hell.

  “Do I get to meet her?” he asked me. “Mama Sharon?”

  “I suppose so,” I said, wondering if this was wise. Bringing him deeper and deeper into my life… which would only make it more difficult, more complicated, more fucking painful if things between us didn’t work out. But fuck it; I had a high tolerance for risk when it came to romance. Too high, maybe… “As long as we’re agreed that you never call her ‘Mama Sharon’ again,” I added.

  He chuckled.

  I took a sip of my drink. “I suppose you’ve already met Gunnar and Joanne and survived. So what’s one more parental introduction?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty confident I can win her over.” His eyes sparkled a little, and I liked that slight cockiness. It was understated, but it was there. Confidence. “If I was gonna bomb, I think it would’ve been meeting your dad where I crashed and burned.”

  “Sweetheart, you impressed the hell out of him.”

  “Did I?”

  “You know you did. He knocked on my door, unannounced, and you answered it with your bed hair and that guilty I-fucked-the-shit-out-of-your-daughter-last-night look on your face, and he actually talked to you. The last guy he met like that, he wouldn’t even look in the eye. My dad is big on first impressions, and they are make-or-break. You don’t get a do-over.”

  “Well, I’m glad I made it past his defenses,” he said. Then he got serious. “He truly adores you.”

  I smiled. “I know.”

  “What’s that like?”

  I laughed a little. “You’ve never been adored?” I didn’t buy that for a second.

  “Not by my parents, that’s for sure.”

  Hmm. I considered that.

  What kind of parents wouldn’t be proud of this big, strapping, alpha gentleman?

  “What about that uncle of yours?” I asked him. “He seems to think you’re something special.”

  “We get along well,” he said, modestly. “Always have.”

  “He left his business to you when he retired. Don’t downplay it. I bet you’re like the son he never had and he’s proud as hell of you.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted. “Something like that.”

  The server dropped off our appetizers, and as we prepared to dig in, I asked Ronan, “If you were getting married, who would you call first? I mean, to tell them the news.”

  He considered that, and I noticed he didn’t get all shifty or uncomfortable when I said the “M” word, like some guys definitely would.

  “My partner, Naveen,” he said. “Because he’d be genuinely happy for me. He’s happily married himself.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “After that, I’d call my uncle.”

  “A-ha,” I said. “I knew it. When do I get to meet him?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You want to meet my uncle Rob?”

  “You’re my boyfriend now,” I informed him. “And you’ve already met most of my closest relatives. I mean… if that works for you.” I took a nonchalant bite of my food.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That works.”

  I grinned, and took a sip of my Crantini to try to cover it.

  Too late. He totally saw it.

  “Let’s get another drink,” I said, as a server walked by and I waved her down. “We’ll have another round,” I told her, before Ronan could respond. Our drinks were still half-full.

  But we could remedy that.

  “Absolutely,” the server said, and headed off.

  “What?” I said to Ronan. He was staring at me. “We took a cab,” I reminded him. “There’s a reason.”

  “Yeah, so I could have a drink and not worry.”

  “About…?” I prodded. “We’ve got security.”

  Our security was, at the moment, eying us while he ate a plate of wings.

  “About my defenses slipping,” Ronan muttered.

  Defenses?

  “With me?”
I asked innocently. “Or you mean… your security guy super-senses?”

  “I’ll have the second drink, but that’s it.”

  I noticed he didn’t answer my question.

  “Hmm. I wonder what you’d be like if your defenses slipped…”

  Tantalizing. That question was way too tantalizing to not want an answer to.

  “A shit show,” he supplied.

  I laughed. “What?”

  “I get goofy when I get drunk.”

  “Goofy? I can’t picture goofy on you.”

  Ronan just went back to his food. Our drinks came, and I finished my first Crantini in one fell swoop. I was still examining that comment…

  “I need more information,” I decided. “What do you mean by goofy? You get… clumsy? Silly?”

  “More like… nice.”

  I laughed again. “What?”

  “I’ve been told I’m much nicer when I’m drunk.”

  “And in your world… nice equals goofy?”

  “It is when you can’t control your tongue.”

  I stared at him. “You are so getting drunk tonight.”

  He chuckled, but he looked uncomfortable. I’d never seen the man look this uncomfortable before.

  Well, except for when I stripped down in front of him for the first time—repeatedly—in Devoid’s studio.

  “You are so afraid of losing your filter and saying what’s on your mind in front of me.”

  He said nothing.

  “You don’t like losing control. I get that, you know.” I sipped my second drink. “I feel the same way.”

  “Right. That’s bullshit.”

  “How?”

  “You’re completely at ease with drinking, socializing, flirting and saying whatever you want to.”

  “Hey. I have a filter.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’re very selective about what you say and to whom. I’d go so far as to say you’re calculating, and not in a bad way.”

  “And you’d be right,” I agreed.

  “You care about what people think, and feel, because your goal is to entertain them, right? Like you said, you want to make people happy.”

  “Uh-huh.” I liked that he paid attention. That he listened to everything I said.

  “But I’m not as… natural… with those things as you are,” he said. “I tend to just bite my tongue. You know, keep quiet. So I don’t put my foot in my mouth.”