"As long as you're not going to say the sex was better with her."
"Fuck no."
My lips curl into a smile. It's not possible to stay on the other side of the bed. I move close enough to take his hand.
Pete chuckles. "Phone sex was amazing. But when we were actually together... not as much."
"Fantasy trumps reality."
"Or I'm that good."
My cheeks flush.
"It was nice having somebody to call at the end of the day. Even if it was clear we were growing in different directions. By the time we finished our first tour, I felt like the only people who knew me were the guys in the band, Mom, and Cindy."
"And your friend, the one who slept with her?"
"Yeah. And him. I couldn't let go of that. The bigger the band got, the less I connected with everybody else. People always wanted to use me somehow. Or they put me on this pedestal. Soon as we were on the radio, all our musician friends were too jealous to be happy for us. I get it. It's hard seeing someone else with everything you want. But it meant nobody knew me. Nobody gets what it's like to be on the road five months a year. To lose track of where you are one day. It's easy to talk about, but to feel it... hearing your music playing at some store, seeing your picture in a tabloid, catching strangers talking about you... It's a mind-fuck. Guess that's not eloquent."
"It is, in a certain way."
He nods. "The bigger the band got, the more I needed that Pete and Cindy bubble. That was my only normalcy. That and Mom." His lips curl into a smile. "She always tells us we're not as good as Fleetwood Mac. Stuff like that. To keep us humble."
"Yeah?"
His smile spreads ear to ear. "You heard what she said about our last single?"
"No."
"Said it would be better if we went country with it. Should have heard her and Tom go at it."
His eyes meet mine. There's something on the tip of his tongue. Then he swallows and it's gone. He blinks and the vulnerability in his eyes is gone too.
"Want to hold you right now, but I'm pretty sure it means I'm not getting to the end of this story," he says.
"No. Keep going. I want to know... I can tell it hurt you a lot, what happened."
"Yeah."
"Did you love her all that time?"
"Hard to say. Not sure what love is supposed to feel like anymore."
"You love your brother. Your mom."
"It's not the same."
"You see Tom and Willow-"
"It's different from the outside. I know what love looks like. But I'm not sure what it feels like here—" He presses his palm to his chest, over his heart.
"You're lucky you're as hot as you are or that would be cheesy as hell."
"You saying you don't want to fuck me?"
"Absolutely not." I shift a little closer. "But you haven't finished your story."
"Fucking me is a lot more entertaining than this story."
"True. But I still like the story."
His lips curl into a half smile. It's short lived. He shifts back into the bed, happiness falling off his face.
"How did you find out?" I ask. "That she was sleeping with your friend."
"Things had been weird. We were on a break for a while. Shit was busy on both our sides and I think we realized we were holding on to something that wasn't quite there. I was ready to break it for good but she begged me to take her back. I was about to go on tour. Wanted some normalcy. Seemed like a good idea." He swallows. "My first trip to see her, she made excuses to avoid being alone. Left early. Claimed she had to work the next day. But Kyle, he made a point of seeing me the next day. We met at some bar. He was eaten up with guilt. I knew something was up but not what."
"What happened?"
"He blurted it out. Made all these excuses about how they couldn't help it. They were in love." His voice fills with frustration. "And it's not like it could work, me being famous and her being a regular person. It's not like I had any concept of what their lives were like. Fuck, they were ready to get married. He had a ring and everything. He looked at me, asked for my forgiveness, but he didn't apologize."
"No?"
"He talked about how it hurt him, how bad he felt, but no apology. I couldn't deal. Told him he could get out of my face or have my fist in his. He kept up the bullshit, so I hit him. It escalated. We got kicked out of the bar. That was that."
"Have you talked to either of them since?"
"No."
"Did he ever apologize?"
Pete shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Don't want to talk to someone who would do that to me. But I kept thinking... these are the only two people who knew me as Pete, the guy and not the minor celebrity, and my trust meant nothing to them. My feelings meant nothing to them. Kept thinking. Fuck, still keep thinking I must be lacking in some way."
I can't resist touching him any more. I shift into his lap, run my fingers over the skin on his cheek. "You're not lacking. You're amazing."
"Sure you're not under the influence of orgasms?"
I nod. "No... if you were wearing your glasses... that would be a different story."
"You like them that much?"
"Yes."
"Can't return the favor—" He taps my glasses. "They'll get in the way when you're coming on my face."
Mmm. "I'll forgive you. This time."
He smiles.
I press my palm against his chest. "Does it still hurt?"
"Not as much... still don't know who to trust."
"You can trust me. I would never hurt you like that. I know Pete, the guy, and I like him better than anybody else I know."
"Jess—"
"I'm not saying... I don't want to talk about that yet." I stare back into his eyes. "But my feelings for you—they have nothing to do with you being rich or famous."
"My cock?"
My cheeks flush. "I'm only human."
He's deflecting, but I feel the shift in the energy. We have a long day tomorrow. We should have some fun now.
I pull my shirt over my head. "You're gonna have to stand up if you want me to keep my glasses on."
His pupils dilate. There. He's under my thumb.
"Will you put yours on? For this part?"
He cocks a brow. "This part?"
"You really want to make me say it?"
"Fuck yeah."
"I'm going to suck you off. Then you're going to eat me out. Then, you'll be hard again, and you're going to throw me on the bed and fuck me."
My cheeks flush. Did I really say all that? I don't feel embarrassed. Just exhilarated.
He smiles. "Fuck am I a good teacher."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
In the morning, we order room service and eat breakfast in bed. Pete leaves a little after noon to tend to his best man duties. Surely, it can't take the groom more than an hour to get ready. He wears a suit, combs his hair, done.
I take a long shower, dress, and join Meg and Kara to do my makeup. Apparently, Willow is getting ready alone. Well, with her maid of honor, Drew. We giggle over the thought of the overprotective guitarist helping his sister with her hair and makeup.
The hours pass quickly. The girls are drinking champagne. For once, I indulge. Without lunch or dinner in my stomach, I get tipsy quickly.
At six, we put the finishing touches on our makeup and take a cab to the ceremony site—the beach, a few miles north of the hotel. Everything is set up on the sand. It's beautiful—an altar decked with hot pink flowers, white folding chairs lined with turquoise ribbon, rose petals lining the aisle.
I only recognize a few people. Flutters fill my stomach. I'm nervous for them. Kara and Meg make chit chat, mostly speculation about Willow's dress—no one has seen it except Ophelia.
The sun sinks into the horizon until the sky is streaked with hot pink. The seats are full. It's time for the ceremony. A coordinator tells everyone to stand. Music plays.
The procession starts. First, Pete and Drew. The best man and the maid of honor. They
aren't quite arm in arm, but they're close enough people could talk. It doesn't seem to bother Drew. He's beaming.
Pete too. His smile is ear to ear. His eyes catch mine. He winks. I'm not sure what it means. Only that it makes me warm all over.
Damn does he look good in that dark navy suit. It brings out the flecks of lightness in his deep brown eyes.
Then it's Tom, arm in arm with Ophelia. Her hair is turquoise. Her dress is pink. Despite her recent health scare, she looks strong and bad ass. She holds onto Tom, her face beaming with pride. There isn't a hint of disbelief. For all I've heard of Tom's manwhore reputation, there's no doubt in anyone's mind that he's happier with Willow.
Actually, the drummer is nervous. He adjusts his grey suit as he takes his place at the altar. His eyes turn to the aisle. Then they're wide with enthusiasm, his cheeks pink. Still nervous but mostly excited.
His eyes are fixed on Willow. Damn is it impossible to look anywhere else. She's a pretty girl, but she goes far beyond that today. She glows like the setting sun. It's nothing about her elegant faux updo or her soft, natural makeup. It's not even her off-the-shoulders chiffon dress. Okay, the dress doesn't hurt. The wind blows it in every direction. It flashes hints of her hot pink wedges. She looks like an angel. Well, with the pink tipped hair it's more like a punk rock angel.
Mostly, she looks happy.
I've never seen a group of people this happy. Something warm and salty stings my eye. A tear.
A happy one.
I cry through the entire ceremony, utterly in awe of the happiness around me.
Pete may not know what love feels like, but I do.
This, is love.
***
Champagne and happiness is a dangerous combination. Everything is a blur of joy and love. We pose for photographs on the sand. Then we're at the cozy reception, eating an amazing vegetarian pasta dish with twenty of Tom and Willow's closet friends.
Come time to cut the cake, I drink another glass of champagne. It pairs strangely with the rich chocolate flavor, but I enjoy feeling like part of the celebration. Truth is, I don't need the champagne to feel bubbly and light. I only need today.
Pete wipes the chocolate frosting from my lips with his thumb. Then his thumb is in my mouth and I'm interested in more than the love of another couple. He looks sexy in his suit. Good thing he's not wearing his glasses. I'd have to take him right here at the reception.
It would be tacky, having sex at another couple's wedding.
Instead, I pull him onto the dance floor. My dance skills are pitiful, but I have fun moving my body with his. Okay, I admit it. At this point, I'm drunk.
The songs blur together. It feels right, in his arms, part of the family.
It's everything I want.
He's everything I want.
The words jump into my throat. I kiss him so they won't get out. He tastes good, like chocolate and champagne. We go back to dancing. Everyone is happy. But tired.
It's almost midnight when the bride and groom take their exit. Another toast—this time I hold off. They skip their champagne. Instead, they go straight to their limo.
Miles mumbles something about the odds on them making it to the suite before consummating their marriage. No one is willing to bet against them having sex in the limo.
"Mmm. That's giving me ideas." Pete slides his hands to my hips and pulls my body into his.
Thank God. I surrender completely to his kiss. There isn't a single thought in my brain. Only a desperate need to be one with him again.
Okay, it's not just sex motivating me. I want our bodies connected. Want to be sure of exactly what he's thinking and feeling if even for a moment.
We're the first to leave, but that doesn't bother me. The walk to the hotel, through the lobby is a blur. Then we're in the elevator.
I can see us in the mirrored walls. Him in his suit, his hair still perfect. Me in my long lilac dress. I'm breathless watching him sink his lips into my neck, pull my shoulder strap aside so my breast spills out of my dress.
"Fuck, Jess," he groans. "Need to be inside you now."
The elevator door dings. Our floor. I need him inside me now, but I'll wait until we're in the hotel room.
"Only one minute," I say. "You looked amazing."
"You too."
I run my fingers through his hair. "And happy."
"You too."
"Really?"
"Yeah." He nods.
There, we're at our door. Pete pulls my body into his. In one smooth motion, he presses me against the door. The weight of his body sinks into mine. He's hard.
"I was. I am. It was beautiful. I can feel it when I look at them." I press my palms against his. "I can feel what love is. Can you?"
He looks at me curiously then shifts his hips to press his hard-on against me. "Can't think much in this state."
Yes. That makes sense. I step aside so he can unlock the door. The key slides into it. The electric lock beeps green. Unlocked. He turns the key, presses the door open.
The words jump into my throat. I try to swallow them down—I want to have him one more time first—but they won't go. Damn alcohol has my inhibitions at zero.
"Pete, I didn't just feel their love. I..." My hands fall to my sides. "I love you. I'm in love with you."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The door slams into the frame.
Pete takes a step backwards. He stares at me, his brow knit with confusion. That isn't an I love you too expression.
He looks like he's been side-swiped.
We stand there staring at each other. It feels like an hour passes. It can't be more than thirty seconds but it feels like an eternity.
My stomach drops. I'm glad I said it, I am, but it doesn't feel good, him staring at me like I slapped him.
When he speaks, his voice is low, unsteady. "I still don't know what that feels like."
"If you loved me, you would know. You would feel it. I feel it every time I look at you."
His eyes go to the floor. "Let's talk inside."
"I don't think I want to talk."
"Whatever you want."
"Are you going to love me one day?"
"Don't want to promise you something unless I'm sure."
There's acid in my throat. Cake, champagne, and rejection is another powerful combination. Only it sucks.
Sadness fills Pete's eyes. He wants to love me. It's almost sweet that he wants to love me but he can't.
I step inside. Not to talk. But to change, pack my things, go somewhere else.
The door slams shut. He tries to slide his arms around me but I break from his touch.
"We should cool things off for a while." I take a deep breath. This is awful but it's necessary if I want to survive the wave of feelings crashing over me. "I'll find some other place to stay. We can talk in a few weeks."
"No."
"What do you mean no?"
"No." He grabs my hand, pulls my body into his. "You're staying at the house. Even if it means I have to leave."
"You're getting kicked out in a few weeks anyway," I say.
"I can get around that."
"Pete... don't make this harder than it has to be."
He says nothing but he keeps my body against his. My breath hitches. I like his body. Even if I don't have his heart. It's tempting to ask him to throw me on the bed one last time.
To taste his sweet lips, to feel him driving deep inside me as our bodies connect, everything right in the universe.
A few minutes of bliss might be worth the emptiness I'll feel after.
I don't know what to say. I guess he doesn't either. Five minutes must pass. Ten.
Neither of us breaks the silence. No. It's the ringing of a phone. My phone. It's three A.M. in LA, almost four. But that means it's already morning in New York.
It rings all the way to voicemail.
"I want to be around you," he says.
"I want you to love me, but we don't always get what we want."
My heart rises up into my throat. Dammit. I feel free and caged at once. My love sends me soaring high. His non-response sends me crashing back to earth.
My phone rings again.
Again.
Again.
Fine. I find it on the bedside table. Sure enough, it's Madison. Pete is still staring at me. I rub my forehead to stave off the impending headache.
"Your sister?" he asks. His voice is soft, sweet, like he's only thinking of me again.
I nod. "I better take this." I pull off my glasses so I can better rub my temples. Damn. Running out of time. I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear. "What's wrong?"
"Dad is in the hospital."
My hand falls back to my side. There's no fighting the headache now. "What happened?"
"He was drinking. I found him... like before. The doctor said he'll be okay in a few days. But..."
"I'll leave as soon as I can."
"I'm sorry, Jess. If you want to leave him to drink himself to death, I understand. You're trying to have a life. I want one too." She chokes back a sob. "I wish I knew what to do. You're better at this."
"That's okay. I'll text you my flight info."
"I'll pick you up at the airport."
"You don't have to."
"Please. I want to." Her voice breaks. "I called Zoe. She's flying up from Florida today."
"Good." My head throbs. I fall back onto the bed, pressing my eyes together. I try to blink back tears but it’s impossible. These aren’t happy tears. I’m terrified. "I'll see you soon. I love you."
"I love you too."
My hands fall to my sides. The phone falling on the bed. This is happening too fast. But at least everything is clear now. Pete doesn't love me. Dad isn't getting better. Madison needs my help.
The weight shifts on the bed. His arms are around me again. I'm limp, pliable. He pulls my body into his. Clarity, what clarity? I can't walk away from him. Not when he feels this good.
"Your dad?" he asks.
I nod. "He should be okay, but..."
"I want to come with you."
I want him to come with me. But I'm not sure I can take it. I wait for my tears to quiet then for the fear in my stomach to settle down.
I wait until I can meet his gaze. "You aren't a gentleman."
Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) Page 23
