"Sounds to me like you have found your calling," he said. "Working with kids is a noble pursuit."
"I've never thought of it that way. I just wanted to throw myself into something to distract me from—" I stopped, cutting myself off abruptly. I looked down into my glass. "Just to keep me busy, I suppose," I finished.
"No, I get it," Nathan said. "Sometimes you need something else to concentrate on that isn't your own life. You need to focus on something else outside of yourself. As an escape, almost."
"That's exactly it," I said, wondering how and why he could articulate what I was feeling so easily. "So it's always been music for you?"
"Always." The fierce gleam in his eyes proved the truth of his words. "I only ever wanted to be a musician when I grew up. People always tried to talk me out of it but I never listened."
"Looks like you showed them all," I said.
"I'm not going to rub it in anyone's face, but it's a nice feeling to prove to everyone I could do it."
"I get it," I said. "It feels really great to beat the odds, doesn't it?"
He looked at me curiously. "What odds did you beat?" he asked.
"Oh, you know," I waved my hand around, panicking a little because I didn't know how to answer. "Just the usual teenaged things."
Nathan cocked his head and opened his mouth to further question me. I hurried to speak first.
"So how long have you been with Cherry Lips?" I asked. "Were they your first band?"
"No," he said. "I used to be with this other band but…" His eyes went dark. He picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Things didn't work out. I joined Cherry Lips afterward. Actually…" When he lifted his eyes back up to mine, there was a more good-humored expression on his face. "We were rival bands at first. Gael and I used to give each other shit all the time. I hated that fucker."
I knew Gael Moreau was the bassist and brother to the lead singer. The fond grin on Nathan's face told me he'd long since gotten over that hatred.
"What changed?" I asked.
He flicked his eyes over my shoulder, avoiding my gaze. "I had some stuff going on back then, when I left the band. Gael helped me through it. Or more like, we got into a fight, tried our best to beat the shit out of each other, and when Gael won, he pinned me down and told me to get my shit together." Nathan snorted in amusement.
"He sounds like a good friend to have," I said. "Minus the beating you up part."
"I gave as good as I got," Nathan said. "That asshole has been my wingman ever since. Or he used to be, at least." He took another drink and avoided my eyes, looking oddly sad.
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that. I didn't know how personal he'd be willing to get, but I was intrigued by him. I wanted to get to know him. Maybe we weren't as different as I'd thought. Maybe we'd both experienced hardships.
But I was afraid if I opened the doors to those kind of personal questions he'd expect the same of me.
Besides, I reminded myself. This was supposed to be a fun, carefree night. No asking probing questions. I was planning to let loose and enjoy myself.
I was about to ask if he wanted to get another drink when Nathan put down his bottle and nodded toward the dance floor.
"Do you like to dance?" he asked.
I looked dubiously at the grinding couples feeling each other up in public. "Is that what that's called?"
"Don't tell me," he said. "You've never been felt up on a dance floor, either?"
"Of course not!" My face flamed.
"It seems to be a night for firsts." His smile spread into a naughty grin. "Want to give it a try?"
"Uh—" A panicky sort of flutter took hold in my stomach, but the heat in Nathan's eyes soon turned that panic into something else. Something daring. Something shameless.
This time I was the one who took his hand.
"Sure," I said as I pulled him toward the swarm of bodies. "Let's dance."
He put his other hand against the small of my back and pulled me close. I gasped as our hips fit together neatly. He rocked against me in time to the music. I followed his movements, rolling my hips and pressing against his chest. The heat in my cheeks flowed down my body, settling between my legs. A slow ache began to throb, a long-forgotten sensation.
As we swayed, he ran his hands up and down my back, going from my neck all the way down to the swell of my ass. He didn't quite cup my backside, but his fingers certainly lingered. I took the opportunity to run my hands up and down his chest, enjoying the firm muscles beneath my palms.
He brought his hands around to my hips and squeezed. He brought one knee forward, nudging gently between my legs. I parted them, letting his firm thigh press against my core. The pressure turned that aching into a painful throb.
I let out a slow, shuddering breath. I pulled back to meet his eyes. There was a hunger in them. I wet my lips. His gaze flicked down to my mouth. His pupils widened. He turned his head, looking around, until he found the exit. He opened his mouth.
Something bold and fearless inside me stirred.
I knew what he was going to say. I beat him to it.
"You want to get out of here?" I asked.
His hands squeezed my hips again, and this time he was the one to wet his lips and speak.
"Your place or mine?"
4
Nathan kept his hand on my back as we maneuvered our way through the club and out the door. It was chilly outside, but the warmth in my cheeks combined with the warmth between my legs made it seem sweltering.
Nathan flagged down one of the taxis waiting to pick up drunk club kids. He opened the door and gestured for me to go first, then slid in next to me. Once we were both seated, his hand wandered from my back to my thigh. His fingers were mere inches away from touching me in an entirely inappropriate way, considering we were in the backseat of a car.
"Address?" the taxi driver grunted.
Nathan lifted an eyebrow at me, questioning.
"Let's go to your place," I said. "I live with my parents."
His whole body convulsed as his face contorted.
"Shit, you are legal, right?" he blurted out.
"Yes!" I was torn between laughing and frowning. "They're just… overprotective. I live in the basement suite, anyway. It's not like I'm still sleeping in the same bed I did as a little girl."
"Fuck, you scared me for a minute." His eyes were still wide, his face pale.
I did have to laugh now. "You look like you swallowed a frog."
He ran a hand over his face and peeked at me through his fingers. "I was three seconds away from jumping out of this taxi, you know that?"
"It's not moving yet." I waved my hand in the air dismissively. "You would have been fine."
He snorted. "Then I guess we're going to my place."
"Address?" the taxi driver said again, louder and more impatient.
Nathan leaned forward to give the driver directions, then sat back down. His hand immediately returned to my thigh.
"So what do your overprotective parents think about you staying out this late?" he asked.
"It's not like that," I said. "They don't care about the day-to-day stuff. It's only—" I paused, wondering how to explain without actually explaining anything. "My job pays more than minimum wage, but not a whole lot more. My mom and dad don't want me living in a cheap rat trap." That was as good of an excuse as any, and it was true. "They used to rent out their renovated basement apartment but now I'm living there until I save up enough to get something nice." And until I could convince them to cut the apron strings.
As I spoke, Nathan's hand squeezed and massaged my thigh. It was hard to concentrate with his fingers so tantalizingly close to the seam of my jeans. I mourned not wearing a skirt. I might have already had his hands on my skin by now.
Then again, I had a feeling once his hands touched my bare skin, I'd spontaneously combust, and I didn't want to blow up the poor taxi driver's car.
We quickly reached what I assumed to be Nathan's apartment. It
was a multi-story building, but it didn't look as fancy as I would have expected from a rich rock star. No marble pillars, no valets waiting outside to park resident's vehicles. Just a plain concrete and brick facade. It had that sort of grungy feel that older buildings tended to have.
"You live here?" I asked.
"Not all that impressive, right?" he replied. "I know, I'm a rock star, I should be living like a king."
"I live in a basement," I reminded him. "Anything is a step up from that."
Nathan removed his hand from my thigh and entwined our fingers. That shivery feeling took hold of me again. His palm was warm.
He handed a wad of bills to the driver and we stepped out of the taxi. As we waited for the elevator, Nathan put his hand back around my waist, tugging me close. He brought his lips to my ear.
"It might not look like much, but I've got the whole top floor to myself," he said. I felt his lips curve into a smile. "No neighbors to complain about the noise."
My insides clenched at his words. I'd known when we'd left the club where things were heading, but now, with his hand on my hip and the phantom touch of his lips on my ear, my mind and body finally caught up to each other.
I was really doing this, wasn't I? We'd flirted and we'd danced, but up until now I didn't think my brain had really been paying attention to what was happening. I was just having fun with Nathan, the creeper guy from the hospital.
But he wasn't just some guy I'd run into. This guy was gorgeous. He was rich. He was famous. He was a freaking rock star.
And we were about to spend the night together.
A part of me wished I could go back a few years and tell my younger self this story. I wouldn't have believed it, of course, but it certainly would have given me something to dream about. Something to cling to on the hard days.
As we rode the slow elevator to the tenth floor, Nathan's thumb continued rubbing circles in the hollow of my hip. After what felt like hours, we finally reached the door to his apartment. He unlocked it and guided me inside with a hand on the small of my back.
As I toed off my shoes, I looked around furtively. I had half-expected to see a messy bachelor pad with dirty clothes and empty food containers everywhere, but the place was surprisingly well-kept. The decor didn't really go together — there was no matching living room set or perfectly arranged art on the walls — but the place was tidy, aside from a handful of guitars and piles of music sheets laying around.
"Surprised?" Nathan asked as I looked around.
"A little."
He headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "My mother would never let me get away with being a slob."
"Is she the overprotective type, too?" I asked.
"If anything, it's the other way around," he murmured absentmindedly as he pulled two bottles of water from the fridge. "You thirsty?"
"Making sure I keep myself hydrated?" I asked. "I only had the one drink, you know."
"If you rarely drink, you're probably a lightweight."
I took one of the bottles from his outstretched hand. "You said it's the other way around. What did you mean by that?"
"Hm?" He raised an eyebrow as he twisted the cap off his bottle.
"Your mom," I said. "I asked if she was overprotective and you said it was the other way around."
His brows drew down into a frown before his expression smoothed. "She was just dealing with some stuff when I was growing up," he said with a shrug he probably meant to look more careless than it did. "So I did the adulting to help her out."
Some stuff. He also said he'd been dealing with some stuff when he left his previous band. Was it the same stuff or different stuff?
I didn't know why I was so curious. There was just something about Nathan. He teased and grinned and bragged, but I'd seen flashes of a different man behind that carefree attitude he gave off.
"Sounds like you've got a good relationship with your mom," I said.
His face softened. "Yeah, we're pretty close. She was always the one encouraging me to go after my dreams."
"She sounds like a wonderful woman."
"She is."
"What about your dad?"
"He's not in the picture." Nathan took a sip from his bottle of water and wandered over to one of his guitars. "It's always just been me and my mom." He fiddled with the neck, going quiet.
"I get along with my parents, too," I said to fill the silence. "They worry too much. But that's what parents do, I guess."
"What could they possibly have to worry about with you?" he asked. "It seems like you'd be the perfect daughter."
"Just the usual things," I said quickly. "Making sure I'm not living off ramen or whatever, nothing too crazy."
My usual things sounded suspiciously vague in the way that Nathan's some stuff was pointedly lacking details.
I supposed it didn't matter. We weren't here to spill our secrets like a therapy session. We were here to—
Nathan came up behind me and pressed his firm chest against my back. He wrapped one arm around my middle and used the other to brush my hair over one shoulder. I tilted my head to the side, allowing him access. He pressed his lips to the crook of my neck. The touch of his lips made my belly tumble over.
"I was about to ask you if you wanted to come to my place, back there at the club," he murmured into my skin. "But you asked me first."
He placed a soft kiss on my neck, not continuing. I rolled my hips, pressing against him.
"And…?" I prompted. "I asked you first. So what?"
"I usually want to be the one who makes the first move," he said. "But with you… I don't know." He pressed another sucking kiss to my neck. My nerve endings flamed. "I liked it."
And I was liking this. No, I was loving this. The fire between my legs threatened to scorch me from the inside out, and Nathan had barely laid a hand on me. I didn't know if I'd make it when he finally slipped between my thighs and gave me what I craved.
Although as far as dying went, that was a pretty nice way to go. Much better than…
I shifted my thoughts back to Nathan. I turned in his arms, pressing my hands to his chest. He was tall. I had to look up to meet his gaze as I said the words I'd been thinking all night.
"Kiss me, Nathan."
5
Nathan's eyes flashed with heat as he brought a hand to the back of my neck.
"Kiss me," I demanded again.
He crashed his lips down on mine, not making me wait a moment longer.
Starbursts flashed before my eyes, elation filled my chest and pure, golden sunlight ran through my veins. It was nothing like any other kiss I'd ever experienced in my life. His lips pulled out a passion from inside me I hadn't known existed.
I opened to him, our tongues battling, gasping into each other's mouths. The kisses were fierce and fervent, as if we were starving and couldn't get enough. The whole evening had been building up to this, and we were going to take our fill.
But soon our ferocity eased, the kisses coming slower, softer. Nathan would peck his lips against mine before turning them to my cheek, running down my neck to my collarbone, before switching sides and repeating the motion.
My heavy breathing slowed as he showed me tenderness. His kisses were now gentle, deliberate, almost reverent. The fire inside me turned from a raging inferno into warming, sensual flames.
His hands stroked up my sides, up my ribcage, until his thumbs could trace the underside of my breasts through my shirt. My thin cotton bra did nothing to dampen the sensation. His thumbs inched upward, sweeping across both nipples, turning them into stiff peaks. I groaned as he took one between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently, then did the same to the other.
He started walking me backward, making our way to his bedroom. I barely took notice of the room as we crossed the threshold. It was dark, illuminated by moonlight steaming through the windows, blocked only by thin, gauzy curtains.
My knees hit the edge of the bed and I thought he might push me down then. I
nstead, he continued with soft kisses and touches. He bit down on my bottom lip, at the flesh of my neck, at the curve of my shoulder. I squirmed and pressed my thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that flared up with every quick nip of his teeth.
He reached for the hem of my shirt, bunching it up to give him access to bare stomach and chest. He trailed a finger down the valley of my breasts, to my stomach, to the waistband of my jeans.
His finger circled the metal button.
I inhaled a sharp breath, my whole body stilling. My heart pounded, nerves buzzing, and I wasn't sure if it was from anticipation or panic.
Nathan pulled back from his kiss, keeping his hands at my jeans.
"Is this okay?" he murmured.
I didn't know why I was hesitating. I wanted this. I'd been the one to invite myself back to his place. I was enjoying myself, savoring his kisses, relishing his touch.
But a small voice inside me couldn't help but speak up. Could I really jump into bed with this man, someone I'd known for less than a day? And would I really be okay with this being a one-time thing? I'd never done anything like this before. This whole situation was completely unlike me.
It was that final thought that settled it.
This wasn't like the old Becca.
But maybe this could be the new Becca. Uninhibited, living life to the fullest. Taking advantage of every moment I had.
I pulled back from Nathan's touch. A worried look crossed his face. I stared him right in the eye as I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and yanked it over my head. His lips parted as I reached behind myself and removed my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Even with the moon as my only source of light, I could see his pupils dilating when I unzipped my jeans, pushing them over my hips and stepping out of them. I was left only in my black panties.
Nathan's eyes roved all over my body. From the flush of his face and the rising hardness pressing against his jeans zipper, I knew he was enjoying the sight. I couldn't help but shiver under his intense gaze.
He lifted the hem of his own t-shirt and threw it over his head. His firm muscles called to me, the colorfully inked skin begging for my touch.
Hard Rock Kiss Page 3
