Hard Rock Fling: A Rock Star Romance

by Athena Wright

  I glanced back down as he continued fiddling with his wrist. "You sure it's just a scratch?"

  "Nothing to worry about." He eyed me up and down slowly. "Did I tell you, you look absolutely delicious today?"

  My heart sped up at the hunger in his eyes, all thoughts of injuries forgotten. "You might have mentioned it once or twice in front of everyone."

  "Only once or twice? I'll have to do better next time."

  "I'm sure your horde of fangirls will just love that."

  "You seem to have a problem with jealousy."

  “No, I don't!"

  "You do. It's cute."

  "Whatever. It's not like I care. Go ahead and flirt with whomever you like."

  He gave me a teasing smile. "Maybe I'll leave the flirting up to Damon from now on, if it makes you so jealous."

  "And let down all your fans? You would never."

  "It's not like girls care which twin is doing the flirting."

  "Why do you think that?"

  He gave a rueful laugh. "Didn't you hear? One person, two bodies. We're the exact same. No difference between us."

  "There is, though. I know everyone thinks you and Damon are identical, but you're not."

  "And what exactly makes me different from my brother?" He leaned into me, encroaching on my personal space, inches away from me.

  "I think—" I could smell him. Something strong and hot, like smoke and spice. It sent my head spinning. That was the only reason I answered the way I did.

  "I think there's something different about you. Something smoldering inside. Damon is ferocious like a wildfire. Out of control. You're different from your brother. You're more of a slow burn. You scorch people from the inside out. Turn people to ash before they notice you've burned them, and when they do, they don't care. Your fans love it. Your fans want it."

  "Fans?" He trailed the back of one finger along my cheek, from temple to jaw. "Or you?"

  "Ah—" All I could make was the tiniest of sounds. Nothing else would leave my lips.

  He continued down my throat, until he reached the gap in my shirt covering the swell of my breasts. I tensed up. I didn't know if I should ask him to stop or beg him to continue. Instead of moving lower, he cupped my face with both hands and raised my head up.

  "How else am I different?"

  I parted my lips, not knowing how to continue.

  "Tell me," he insisted.

  "You're more intense," I blurted out. "Damon only looks at the surface. With you, it's like you're seeing something deeper." I glanced away, embarrassed, and tried to think of something less personal I could tell him. "You're less rash. Damon jumps in without thinking. You're more thoughtful."

  I went quiet, not knowing how much more I should say. I didn't want him to think I was some sort of stalker who watched him every minute of the day, who dissected his every move, his every word.

  Even though I sort of was.

  "You really think all that?" Ian's voice was soft, quiet. I glanced back up at him. His eyes flicked from left to right, as if they were searching mine.

  "Yes. I really think all that."

  He stared at me silently for several long moments.

  With no warning, he captured my lips in a crushing kiss. I almost jerked back in surprise, but I didn't dare move away.

  Ian was kissing me. The thought made my head swim. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, every nerve ending on fire.

  If I expected soft kisses and romance, I would have been mistaken. Ian forced my lips open with his tongue, assaulting my mouth with fervent heat. I let out a soft moan. It only urged him on. I clutched his shoulders to keep my balance. The force of his kiss made me lightheaded. I was afraid my legs would fall out from under me.

  He must have noticed. Ian pulled me closer, wrapping both arms around my waist, keeping me upright. He tugged me until his hips were angled into mine, tight against him.

  "God, I love your mouth," he murmured against my lips. "Such a sweet girl."

  I froze. Ian and the L word in the same sentence? My heart couldn't handle it.

  As he continued kissing me, I slowly relaxed. I knew this meant nothing to him. I knew I was his newest plaything. I could accept that. That was all I wanted from him, anyway.

  The kiss slowed. He stroked his tongue against mine. They slid together softly. Each flick of his tongue sent sparks shooting through my spine. He bit lightly on my lower lip. I let out a soft sound in the back of my throat. The taste of him, the smell of him, was driving me crazy. Warm and spicy. It was innately masculine.

  After several long minutes, I finally had to break away for air. He continued the kisses, sliding his lips to my neck, leaving a blazing hot trail. He applied a soft suction and I nearly whimpered out loud. Then he bit down and I couldn't stop a gasp from escaping, bucking my hips against his in surprise.

  He returned to my mouth, tangling his tongue with mine, his lips pulling moans and whimpers out of me.

  I jolted back at the press of one hand against my bare stomach. My shirt had come untucked from my skirt. Ian took advantage, sliding one hand up until fingers brushed the edge of my bra. He stopped. Waiting for my permission? I couldn't speak. I didn't want to tear my lips away from his. Instead I arched my back, pushing into his hands.

  He accepted the invitation, cupping one breast in a gentle hand. Through thin cotton a thumb rubbed idly back and forth across my nipple. That motion sent a wave of heat soaring through my body. My insides clenched. The ache between my legs grew stronger. My panties were getting damp.

  He must have felt the shudder running through me. One knee found its way between my legs, hiking my skirt around my waist. The press of his thigh against my very center caused my brain to fizzle out. My hips rocked unconsciously, trying to get more friction.

  Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

  I pulled away with a gasp, pushing at Ian's chest. He barely moved an inch.

  "What—"

  I cut him off with a sharp hiss.

  "Someone's coming."

  I quickly pulled my skirt into place, attempting to tuck in my shirt with one hand while smoothing my hair with the other.

  "What are you doing here?" Damon popped around the corner a few seconds later. "August wants us all together. Right now."

  "Be there in a minute." Ian didn't take his eyes off me. I flushed and took a few more steps back.

  "Whatever, man," Damon snorted and left.

  Ian and I stood in silence for a few moments. I was still catching my breath, but he was unruffled. How often did he accost unsuspecting interns in the middle of the work day? He must have sensed I was still reeling. He moved back a few paces.

  "Why did you kiss me?" I asked, my breathing still uneven.

  "Because I wanted to." He smirked. "Are you telling me you didn't like it? Because I'd like to do a whole lot more than kissing."

  I bit my lip and forced myself to answer truthfully. "No. I liked it."

  His lips quirked up as a smug look spread across his face. "There's a party tonight."

  I blinked at the non sequitur. "What?"

  "Cam's throwing a huge party at his place. You should come."

  "You're inviting me to another party?"

  "This one's gonna be a rager." His eyes were alight with mischief. "There will be a bodyguard checking the guest list. Give them your name and tell them Damian invited you." He gave me a wink and sauntered off to join his bandmates. My lips still tingled.

  "Wait!" I called. He tilted his head, questioning. "I'd rather tell them Ian invited me."

  His eyes widened slightly, that same expression of wonder I'd seen before. His lips turned down slightly before cracking a small, rueful smile. "You can try, sweetheart." He flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes, hiding that brilliant green. "But I doubt they'll know who you mean."

  Chapter Nine

  I almost didn't make it to the party. Not because I was nervous or had second thoughts. I almost didn't make it because of J
anet.

  "Please please please," I begged Faith as she rifled through her closet. "I know it's inconvenient, but my boss asked for these documents tonight because she has an early morning meeting and she wants me to drop them off right now, but I need to get ready for the party and please can you deliver them?"

  Faith finally gave in. "Ugh. Fine. Stop begging. I'll do it. You just remember this the next time my boss asks me to do three things at once."

  "I''ll be the errand girl next time, I promise."

  She took a dress out of the back of her closet and threw it at me. "Here. Try this on. There's no way I'm letting you leave the house in your usual leggings and baggy sweaters."

  "Interesting choice." The high neckline and long sleeves surprised me. She never wore anything scandalous, but Faith's style was less stuffy than the outfit suggested.

  "It's called seven dresses in one." She pulled one of the arms out of the sleeve and did some complicated folding, turning it into a fashionable one sleeve dress with a just-barely-decent scooped neck. She also shifted the fabric around my waist to raise the hemline.

  "I know I always say you should get out of the house more, but are you sure you want to party with rock stars?" Faith's voice was laced with concern. "Those things can get kind of crazy."

  I hadn't told my sister the invitation had come from Ian personally. I didn't want her to start getting thoughts about me and him.

  Even though she wouldn't have been wrong.

  "I really want to go. I think it's important. For networking. Getting to know my colleagues. That kind of thing."

  It wasn't a complete lie. I would be getting to know my colleagues. Just not the way Faith imagined.

  Ian had kissed me. He'd more than kissed me. We made out at work where anyone could have caught us. Damon almost did catch us. I swallowed hard. The butterflies in my stomach were taking wing from the most fleeting of memories.

  And now Ian had invited me to a house party with him and his bandmates.

  The thought gave me shivers, fear and excitement both taking hold. I didn't want to be that girl. The one who threw herself at rock stars. I didn't want Ian to think I was some sort of groupie. I didn't want him to think I was only interested in him because he was famous.

  There was something about Ian that intrigued me. Even if he wasn't a rock star, I would have been interested in him.

  The question was, was Ian interested in me for real, or did he see me as another plaything?

  And if he did… would that really be so bad? Wasn't that what I wanted?

  There was a chasm within me and it felt like I was teetering on the edge.

  I didn't want to be just another girl in Ian's long line of conquests.

  I didn't want to risk opening my heart only for him to throw it away.

  Those thoughts kept running through my head during the taxi ride to Cameron's place. I came to a stop in front of a mansion in one of the wealthier parts of town. Star athletes and other celebrities also lived on this street. Cameron owned a house here? How much money did rock stars make?

  A crowd of dozens milled around the front steps. Taking a deep breath, I opened the car door. As nervous as I was, I didn't want to show it. I was going to play it cool. I was going to be classy and sophisticated like my sister.

  I wasn't going to act like the complete wreck I felt inside.

  Lights flashed bright and hot, burning my retinas. The clicking sound of camera shutters assaulted my ears. People called out questions, but there were so many voices I couldn't make out a word. I squeezed my eyes shut to protect them.

  Paparazzi.

  Ian hadn't said anything about the media being here. I supposed it made sense. Rock star parties would provide a lot of fodder for those trashy magazines.

  A gentle hand took me by the arm and led me up the steps to the entryway.

  "Your name, miss?"

  I opened my eyes. A tall, sturdy brunette at my side held a clipboard and an ear piece. She was clearly the gatekeeper and bodyguard to keep out uninvited guests.

  "Thanks for saving me. I'm Hope Briars. I should be on the guest list."

  "Who extended the invitation?"

  I remembered what Ian had told me.

  I doubt they'll know who you mean.

  Had he been telling the truth? Was the Damian image so powerful no one knew who Ian was?

  "Ian invited me."

  "Who?"

  My heart clenched, an ache of sympathy shooting through me.

  "I mean, Damian invited me."

  The bodyguard made a checkmark on her clipboard and stood aside to let me through.

  The front door opened onto a vast foyer with marble flooring. Stylish modern furniture had been tucked away in the corners, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room for mingling. Waitstaff with platters of appetizers in their hands maneuvered deftly among the party guests, who barely paid them any attention. It was much more upscale than I'd been expecting.

  There were so many people. I didn't recognize a single face. Not personally, at least. A few might have been celebrities I'd seen on TV, but they were different enough in real life I couldn't be sure it wasn't a lookalike.

  I was suddenly glad Faith convinced me to wear her dress. Even in this outfit, I felt only moderately fashionable in comparison to the women scattered about the party. I would have been monstrously out of place with my usual leggings.

  A wide variety of styles, from classy to glamorous to full on provocative, were on display.

  Women in cocktail dresses with subtle gold and silver jewelry held wine glasses by the stems, taking minuscule sips.

  A few women with bright red lipstick and voluptuously wavy hair wore pin-up style dresses. Their shapely hour glass figures let them pull off the retro style with ease.

  Tall, leggy blondes with plunging necklines and hems barely covering their butt cheeks held audience with handfuls of men vying for their attention.

  Despite Faith's best efforts, my dress was too long to be called provocative, my hair and makeup too plain to be called glamorous. But classy? I supposed I could pull it off as well as my sister, if I made an effort.

  I wandered further into the mansion, hoping to find someone I recognized. The guests became rowdier and the music louder the deeper inside I went. Empty glasses and beer cans were strewn about. Couples were making out, half naked, on sofas and against the walls. A group of people were playing a card game, most of them in states of half-undress. Cameron was there, as was August. Cameron had several bras draped around his neck, with a girl on each knee.

  They were deeply involved in their game, so I continued exploring. The further I got from the entrance, the crazier the party became. Smashed glasses on the floor, trash on every surface, drunk people falling over themselves. So far I'd discovered four parlor rooms, two bathrooms with people passed out on the floor or puking into the toilet, and a handful of what I assumed were bedrooms from the groaning and moaning sounds leaking through the doors.

  I still hadn't found Ian. The music was obnoxiously loud. Grimacing, I gave up and made my way back to the front door, surrounding myself with the classy, glamorous women. At least this area of the mansion didn't remind me of a frat party.

  I was contemplating leaving when someone bumped into me from behind. I nearly went sprawling across the floor, still not used to the height of my borrowed high heel pumps.

  So much for classy.

  "Hey, watch yourself." Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground. A familiar spicy scent filled my nose.

  Ian.

  I wobbled on shaky ankles to right myself. I didn't want to fall and continue making a fool of myself in front of him.

  "You gonna be okay with those shoes?" His tone was teasing, but there was a note of concern underneath.

  "It's fine." I pretended I wasn't dying of embarrassment. "Someone just bumped into me."

  I turned around in his arms. He kept them wrapped around me, gripping my waist with both hands. His h
air wasn't styled for the stage. It fell in soft tufts, messy and sexy at the same time. A black band t-shirt clung tight to his chest, muscled arms on display. Silver buckles and zippers adorned his black pants. The rough metal scratched at the skin of my legs, making me acutely aware of how close our thighs were pressed together.

  I tried to take a step back, but there was another party-goer directly behind me. Ian pulled me closer before I could get jabbed with an elbow. His body heat sent a flush to my cheeks.

  "Damian!" a voice whined. "You said you were going to get us drinks."

  I glanced behind him. Two gorgeous women, one on each side, both with fluffy blonde hair surrounding their cherub faces. Each had a pout on her lips, one sour and the other sorrowful.

  "Sorry babes." He didn't look at them, keeping his gaze trained on me. "You'll have to get those drinks yourselves."

  Both made sounds of disappointment. One tried to reach out to him, but the other pulled her back.

  "Let's just go find his brother, instead," one said with a hushed voice. I only made out the words because I was staring at her plump, glossy lips in envy.

  Ian didn't seem to hear, his full attention focused on me. Two thumbs rubbed slow circles in the hollow of my hips. My throat closed up as I met his vibrant green eyes. No sunglasses tonight. He was studying me carefully, a sly grin on his face.

  "I'm glad you came. You just get here?"

  "Yeah. The paparazzi was a surprise."

  "Sorry. I should have warned you. The bodyguard give you any trouble?"

  "No, but you were right about—" I cut myself off.

  He tilted his head. "Right about what?"

  "Uh—" I didn't want to tell him about the bodyguard not knowing who Ian was. "You were right, this party is a rager." He didn't notice my slip up.

  "These parties aren't always this crazy." He raised his voice to be heard over the din of music and laughter. "But Cam got a little overzealous with invitations and well, you see what happens."

  "Do you know everyone here?"

  "Most of them."

  There had to be hundreds of people at the party, the majority of them women.

  Exactly how had he come to know them?