Hard Rock Fling
A Rock Star Romance
Athena Wright
Copyright © 2017 Athena Wright
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Other Books By Athena Wright
Feral Silence: A Rock Star Romance Series
Hard Rock Gaze - Jayce and Ailey's story
Hard Rock Voice - Kell and Emily's story
Hard Rock Touch - Ren and Ivy's story
Hard Rock Heart - Morris and Natalie's story
Darkest Days: A Rock Star Romance Series
Hard Rock Tease - Noah and Jen's story
Hard Rock Fling - Ian and Hope's story
Hard Rock Sin - Cameron and Lily's story (Coming 2017)
Hard Rock Heat - Damon and Faith's story
Hard Rock Deceit - August and Crystal's story
Coming Soon
Cherry Lips: A Rock Star Romance Series
Cerise and Liam's story
Gael and Jessie's story
Nathan's story
Julian's story
Seth's story
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Summary
It's just a fling. Rock stars like Ian are known for breaking hearts. I'm not going to let him break mine.
Ian Drake, one of the genius twin guitarists of Darkest Days, is known for his brilliant green eyes, his sly grins, and his mischievous flirting.
I shouldn't take him seriously when he flirts with me. But there's something about the way he looks at me. Like I'm the only one who sees past his cheery facade. Like I'm the only one who really sees him.
Ian says I'm special. He says I'm not like the others. He showers me with pretty words, just as he fills me with naughty desires.
Everyone knows rock stars like Ian don't do commitments. This is just physical. Just fun. I'm going in with my eyes wide open.
Because there's a secret he's not telling me. And why would he? We're just having a fling.
I told myself I wouldn't let Ian break my heart.
But I'm dangerously close to falling for a playboy rock star.
— — —
Hard Rock Fling is a steamy New Adult Rock Star Romance. It is the second novel in the Darkest Days series, but can be read as a standalone with a HEA.
— — —
Author's notes:
This book contains mentions of self-harm. Readers should proceed with caution.
Chapter One
The spotlights flashed a kaleidoscope of colors, bright and hot. The crowd chanted, a dull roar of voices. The band remained backstage, ready to greet their adoring fans. Everyone waited in anticipation.
And I was the one they were all waiting on.
I scrambled around in boxes and totes, tossing accessories to the floor, not caring if they got dirty. Panic set in. What if I couldn't find them?
There. Underneath a pile of belts. Two pairs of identical sunglasses. I snatched them up and ran.
Five band members stood surrounded by assistants and interns, waiting for their cue to go on stage. Their lead singer looked out at the audience, scowling and irritated at the delay. The bassist and drummer spoke quietly to each other in hushed tones, mentally preparing themselves. As for the two guitarists, they paid no attention to the audience, or their fellow band members, or the barely-controlled chaos backstage.
Ian and Damon Drake, twin guitarists of hit rock band Darkest Days, were too busy flirting with the interns.
"Damian! I brought the two of you distilled water, not sparkling." A young assistant, a girl around my age, handed each of The Twins a bottle. "I know that's what you both like."
Since no one could tell them apart, everyone just called both of them Damian, a portmanteau usually reserved for celebrity couples.
"Aw, you remembered?" one of the twins purred, cupping her cheek. I could hear the girl's heart explode in her chest. "Such a sweetheart." He ran a finger down her throat, playing with the exposed collarbone peeking out from her tank top. "You know what else I like? Precious girls like you. Thoughtful. Sweet." He leaned toward her, noses practically bumping together.
"Your guitars." A crew member about a decade older brusquely hip-checked bottled water girl. She stumbled a few feet to the side. The poor girl blinked rapidly, dazed from her encounter with one of The Twins.
The guy handed a black guitar with a red fretboard to the twin on the left. He handed the second guitar, identical aside from the blue fretboard, to the twin on the right.
"Awesome, thanks," both twins said at the same time, sharing a sly smile. As soon as the crew member turned his back, they switched guitars.
"Anyone seen Damian?" I heard someone shout from across the room.
"They're back there," the crew member called, jerking his thumb toward the twins.
"Send rhythm guitar over here for a second. We gotta check this amp distortion."
The crew member looked back and forth between the twins, befuddled. "Uhh… which one's that, again?"
"Don't know, don't care. Just pick one," the voice called back.
"Excuse me." I tried to push between the crowd of assistants. "I need to give The Twins their sunglasses." They couldn't go on without their trademark shades.
One of them was busy fiddling with the leather wrist cuff covering his forearm and didn't hear, but the other, the one who flirted with bottled water girl, gave me a wink.
"Thanks, sweetness." He plucked a pair from my hand with an easy grin and stuck them on the top of his head.
"Damian, get over here." The drummer lifted his chin with a nod, calling The Twins over. "There's a last minute change with the setlist we need to talk about."
Before they could saunter off, I called out.
"Wait, Ian!"
The Twins froze mid-stride. Both turned around slowly. The twin on the left narrowed his eyes at me, looking puzzled, almost bemused.
"What did you call me?" he asked, giving me a slow once-over.
My heart skipped a beat at the piercing look in that brilliant green, bright and glinting.
"Sorry," I blurted out, suddenly nervous. "I couldn't find the right sunglasses so I wasn't able to give them to you earlier and you can't go on stage without them or else my boss will be upset with me." I snapped my jaw shut, ceasing my rambling.
"You want to give Ian his sunglasses?" Ian asked.
"You sure you already gave Damon his?" It was Damon who spoke this time.
I frowned, confused, and glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Yeah. Damon's wearing his sunglasses," I said, nodding to one twin, "but I still need to give Ian his pair." I nodded to the other.
The Twins stalked towards me as one. I nearly backed up, so intense was their stride. When they were less than two feet away, they stopped. I was faced with two probing stares.
"Who are you?" they asked in unison. My heart jumped in my chest.
"No one. I mean, I'm just an intern. I'm not important. Just ignore me. Sorry."
The contemplative look they gave me, heads tilted slightly to the side, was enough to make me shiver. I'd never had the full attention of a famous rock star before, let alone two. Stage presence was one thing. Two pairs of eyes examining me like a puzzle to be solved was something else. It made my stomach flip.
Although Damon's green eyes usually glinted with mischief, they were narrowed, displeased. This close up, flecks of deep blue around the iris made
his eyes darker than normal. Ian's eyes, on the other hand, green with flecks of gold, were softer, brighter. I could feel him sizing me up.
I wondered how many girls got close enough to notice the difference in their eyes. Probably more than I cared to guess. They must have been fraternal twins, to have different colored eyes. They were so similar, though. Like exact copies of each other.
The Twins shared a glance. Damon's brows furrowed. Ian's lips twitched with amusement. After staring at each other silently for a few moments Damon shrugged and walked off. Ian stayed behind.
That considering stare turned warm. He took the sunglasses from my hands and flipped them around until the frames faced towards me. Two gentle hands hooked them around my ears, adjusting until they sat perched on my nose. A finger trailed down the bridge of my nose to my lips. My stomach leaped into my throat.
"You keep up the good work, sweetheart."
His voice was low, teasing, with a hint of something more. Something heated. He leaned in until we were cheek to cheek. I tensed up, holding my breath. My hair ruffled as he spoke quietly.
"Your boss hired a very perceptive intern."
He straightened his back, lips leaving a tingling sensation where they'd touched my ear.
I made a motion to take off the sunglasses. He grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers. That small touch sent a spark shooting through me.
"Keep them."
"But what are you going to wear on stage?" He still held my hand. "My boss will be angry with me if you go on without them."
He smirked and pulled an identical pair from his back pocket. "I've always got a spare. Don't worry. I'd hate to see your boss fire you." He stroked the back of my hand, an intimate caress. My legs went shaky for a brief moment.
Ian smirked. Despite the fluttering in my stomach, a contrary feeling came over me. He knew exactly the effect he was having on me, that playboy jerk.
I forced myself to stand up straight, locking my knees. "I'm surprised you care about some random intern."
He met my gaze for a brief moment. In those few seconds, his eyes glimmered with something I almost couldn't identify. Curiosity?
"I wouldn't want a pretty girl like you getting away."
"I'm sure if I got fired you'd find another pretty girl within seconds."
He grinned and flipped the sunglasses between his fingers. "Seconds? Damn, I know I've got good game, but seconds? I'm flattered."
"It wasn't meant to be flattering."
His mouth popped open, astonished, before laughing. "Should I be offended, then?"
"Just making an observation."
"Hm." Ian eyed me up and down. "I did say you were perceptive."
"I don't need any special insight to know you're a manwh—" I bit my tongue before the words could come out.
"What was that?" Ian teased. "Were you just about to slut-shame me?"
"No!"
"I think you were." He shook his head and made a tsk sound. "You shouldn't listen to tabloid gossip, you know."
He cupped my cheek, just like his brother had with bottled water girl. Maybe it was their signature move. His thumb brushed my lower lip. A jolt of electricity ran up my spine. My body warmed to the core. I tried to think through the haze taking over my brain.
"Then again," he said, "they do say there's a grain of truth to every rumor."
"Hey Damian!" The bassist called out. "Quit flirting. We're going on soon."
He pulled back. My lungs began working again.
"Your adoring fans await," I said, trying not to sound breathless despite my rapidly beating heart. "You better get going, Ian."
He tilted his head, giving me one more look, bemused, but with a heavy weight behind it. "Take good care of those shades, sweetheart. They're my favorite pair."
I watched through tinted lenses as he strolled off and joined his band members. The Twins shared a quick look and turned their eyes to the stage.
When my stomach stopped tumbling over, I took the sunglasses off and clutched them in my shaking hand. I could still feel the touch of his lips on my skin. The brush of his thumb against my mouth.
The audience burst into cheers. The concert had started.
I let out a slow breath. No need to freak out. I'd found the sunglasses. I'd delivered them to The Twins in time. No reason to panic.
No reason aside from the look in Ian's eyes whenever I said his name.
Chapter Two
After my encounter with Ian, I forced myself to take deep breaths, trying to calm my heartbeat. It was no use. My pulse points were throbbing — not to mention the throbbing in the other, more intimate, parts of me.
I glanced around to see if anyone noticed my reaction to Ian. Thankfully, the staff and crew members were absorbed in their own work. Besides, they were no doubt all used to The Twins' flirting. It meant nothing.
When my breathing was even, I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind. After all, Ian probably forgot I existed the moment he turned his back.
I wandered around backstage to find my boss, wanting to see if there was anything else for me to do. My job may have seemed insignificant — making sure the right sunglasses were worn on stage — but when it came to rock stars and their image, nothing was insignificant. Working with celebrities meant every move, every act, had to be planned out perfectly.
A few interns stood around watching the band perform. I wished I could take time to watch the show, but I wanted to make a good impression. To be known as a go-getter. I wanted them to offer me a real job. Being a perpetual intern was demoralizing.
I found my boss Janet talking to a man with a staff badge around his neck. Standing a few yards away, I waited until they were done with their conversation. I wanted to pull out my phone and text my sister about my encounter with Ian, but that would have been unprofessional.
It was loud backstage. The music assaulted my ears. It reverberated in my bones. I glanced to the side. If I stood a few more feet to the left, I would have a perfect view of the stage. I debated for long moments. Janet was still busy. I shuffled over, feeling guilty.
Not guilty enough to stop myself.
The drummer was positioned near the back, working the drums at a furious pace. Platinum blond hair, natural, not dyed, flew everywhere with the force of his drumming. His arms were nearly a blur as he pounded away.
"August! Marry me!" One loud fan screamed out during a lull in the music.
His crystal blue eyes were like chips of ice, narrowed in concentration, oblivious to the hollering crowd, paying no attention to the fan calling his name. August Summers concentrated solely on keeping the band in time. I often wondered if he resented his parents for calling him August with a last name like that.
Lead singer Noah Hart stood center stage, gripping the microphone with both hands.
"Noah is a god!" several girls cried at the same time, amplifying their voices.
His burning dark brown eyes narrowed, scorching the audience with passion. He sang with an impressive range, from erotic purrs to rough growling, as if each word were being ripped from his lips. As if his throat was raw and bloody from the pure emotion being wrung out of him.
The crowd was already at a fever pitch, but that didn't stop the bassist from gesturing at the audience to start a mosh pit with a swirl of his hand.
"Come on, you guys!" Cameron shouted out with a manic grin. "It's not a proper show if at least one person doesn't leave with a broken nose!"
His bright, fire-engine red hair glimmered under the spotlights, as if he'd sprinkled glitter over his head. Long strands fell over his face, half covering his heavily kohl-rimmed eyes. The dyed hair should have been damaged and destroyed from all the abuse he put it through, but groupie rumors said it was as soft as a baby's. I snorted at the thought of Cameron Thorne putting his hair though an intense daily conditioning regime.
"Cameron! Take off your shirt!" one girl yelled.
"Yeah, take it off!"
A coordinated chanti
ng started up.
"Take it off, take it off!"
Cameron laughed. "If you insist," he yelled back.
He peeled off his t-shirt to display an exquisitely-toned torso. Squeals and swoons could be heard over the music. I would have been drooling along with the other fangirls, but I'd watched Darkest Days in concert so many times I was immune. Cameron spent most concerts half naked to begin with. Besides, there was someone else I was more interested in.
Ian. Jumping on amps, dropping to his knees, flying across the stage with all the force of a raging inferno. Endless, unstoppable energy.
I was in the wrong spot to get a good look at him, but I could pinpoint the exact moment when two guitars went soaring through the air. The crowd went wild, calling out a single name.
"Da-mi-an! Da-mi-an!"
Two cheeky grins flashed across identical faces, two pairs of green eyes glinted with mirth, as Ian caught Damon's guitar, and Damon caught Ian's.
The Twins had just performed their favorite move: switching guitars in mid-song to play each other's parts.
"Hope? What are you doing standing there?"
Janet spoke to me with an annoyed snap. I cringed. I'd been caught standing around watching the band like the shiftless interns I was trying to one-up.
"I was wondering if you had anything else for me to do." I tried to sound eager and attentive.
"Just keep an eye on all the extra accessories," she said. "We don't want people trying to steal them as souvenirs."
"I'm on it!"
I lugged all the boxes to a corner, found a particularly sturdy one, and sat. No one was going to steal anything on my watch.
Although the concert venue was vast, holding thousands, the backstage was small and cramped. Most of the space was taken up by a row of chairs seated in front of mirrors outlined by lightbulbs. All the acts performing that night had their turn in the chairs on the receiving end of Hair and Makeup.
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