Dangerous Crush: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 2)

by Crystal Kaswell

  "I'm not thrilled. Kit's a good guy now, but in the past... What will you do if he slips?"

  "He won't."

  "But if he does?"

  I don't know. Help him. I press my hands together.

  "Is he the reason why you've been miserable the last month?"

  "Was it that noticeable?"

  "Yeah."

  "Sort of." Okay, yes, but it's more complicated than that.

  Frustration furrows in Mal's brow. He shakes it off. "I want you to be happy. All the shit I do, it's because I want the best for you."

  "I know, but I should decide what's best for me."

  "You'll decide no matter what I do."

  I nod.

  "I don't want to see you get hurt, Piper. He... if he breaks your heart, I'll kill him."

  "Is murder really necessary?"

  "Yeah, but I'm negotiable."

  "Don't hurt him, please."

  "I'll consider it."

  I don't think Mal would actually hurt Kit, but I know I'm not going to get that promise in writing. "The band... is it good?"

  "Why wouldn't it be?"

  "I don't know. I don't know why you and Ethan would care about me dating Kit, beyond the initial I can't believe my baby sister isn't an innocent virgin anymore bit."

  Mal's eyes flare with realization. "Fuck, that's what Joel was talking about." He lowers his voice. "Did you really call Kit to beg him to fuck you?"

  "No."

  "I know Kit's hot but that's a little desperate."

  "I did not beg."

  He laughs. "I didn't realize you hadn't... I thought you and Gerard had slept together. Or—what was his name— the guy you went to Prom with. You two were out all night."

  "And you were okay with that?"

  "Not like I can talk."

  "Ethan can't, but he still does."

  "Ethan is Ethan." His expression gets serious.

  Ethan isn't going to take this well. "Maybe Violet will help my case."

  Mal nods. "You're too young to remember this, but the five of us used to be a family. Mom and Dad used to care. You should have seen the way Ethan lit up when they showed the faintest interest in anything he did. They used to take us to the beach every weekend. They used to make a big pancake breakfast every Sunday. We were a family. When that stopped, when they left, that killed him. But it killed him for your sake too. He's always gonna want to protect you."

  "You make it sound sweet."

  "It is. I feel the same."

  "I know."

  "I didn't pull this shit to fuck with you. I want us to be a family, all five of us. That's not gonna happen." He looks away. "Shit, I guess you were right."

  "It's not like you to admit that."

  He chuckles. "It's not like you to keep secrets."

  "I know."

  Mal looks me in the eyes. "If he does slip, if anything goes wrong, or he hurts you— promise you'll tell me."

  "He won't."

  "Then it will be an easy promise to keep."

  Fair point, but there's a part of me that isn't quite convinced Kit will never hurt me.

  Even so, I look my brother in the eyes. "I promise."

  Chapter 23

  Kit

  Piper and I spend the entire day together. I make her breakfast. It's a simple meal—eggs, toast, hot sauce—but she treats it like a five-star dinner.

  We settle on the couch and take turns picking movies through delivery lunch and dinner. She finds a yoga mat buried in a closet and shows off her flexibility.

  Yoga is more tolerable in a seventy degree room, but I don't fully appreciate Piper's flexibility until I take her to my bed.

  Fucking her isn't like fucking anyone else.

  It's the opposite of the sex I used to have. Instead of numbing me, it wakes up every inch of my body. It makes me feel alive. It makes me acutely aware of how badly I need her, of how deeply I feel for her, of how much I want her in my life for a long fucking time.

  Sunday morning, we go out for brunch and head down to Orange County for an afternoon of coffee and conversation. Mal drove up in Piper's car yesterday. We take her car back, her driving, me giving turn by turn directions.

  After our third cup of coffee, we head to our surprise pre-dinner plans. I guide Piper to a street in downtown Santa Ana.

  After she parks, her eyes fix on mine. "What are we doing in front of a random strip mall?"

  She's trying to play cool, but the way she's tapping her feet together is giving her away. She's as cute wanting as she is nervous. It can't hurt to torture her for a few minutes.

  I shrug. "Who knows?"

  She folds her hands in her lap. "Okay. Where do I go now?"

  "Might want to get out of the car."

  She glares playfully. Still, she gets out of the car.

  Once I'm out, and it's locked, I motion for her to join me on the sidewalk.

  "Kit." She tugs at my leather jacket as she looks up at me. "Tell me. Please."

  "Maybe if you sweeten the deal."

  She rises to her tip toes to press her lips to mine. She digs her fingers into my chest, over my clothes.

  I have her exactly where I want her.

  But she has me exactly where she wants me too.

  I slide my hands to her waist and pull her closer. The way she melts into my touch makes skipping this really fucking tempting.

  Somehow, I manage to resist the impulse. I pull back. My lips curl into a smile. It's of their own accord. Being around Piper does things to me.

  Makes me the kind of guy who smiles just because.

  I nod to the blacked out storefront on the far right of the strip mall.

  She raises a brow. "Looks suspect."

  I take a step towards the theater and offer her my hand. "Up to you."

  She drags her fingertips over my wrist and palm. "Let's do it."

  I intertwine my fingers with hers and lead her. There are two people smoking outside the storefront. They're about my age and they must be up on music, because they look at me with curiosity. Then it flares in their eyes—they recognize me.

  Piper looks up at me. You sure about this?

  I nod as I lead her through the door. Beyond the narrow hallway is a tiny theater. The stage is in the front. The rows of seats—there's room for about thirty people—are in the back.

  At the moment, there are a dozen people here, including one guy in front with a clipboard and a stack of scripts. He must be the teacher. He looks like the photo on the website.

  Piper's eyes go wide. "This is an acting class?"

  I nod.

  She leans close enough to whisper. "You're doing this too?"

  I nod.

  "Everyone is going to freak that you're famous."

  "I'm not that famous."

  "Yes, you are." She looks to the smokers outside. "They had that look. Oh God, if I like this class, and I want to stay, everyone is going to ask where Kit Lockhart is. And if I have his number."

  I chuckle. "I'll be so bad they'll pray for me not to come back."

  "Have you ever looked in a mirror?" She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. "You'd have to be horrible."

  "Mission accepted."

  "Really awful. Arnold awful."

  "You shouldn't speak ill of your former governor."

  She laughs as she pulls back. Her eyes meet mine. "If even one person asks for your number..."

  I arch a brow.

  "Okay, I won't give it away. But I will... I'll have to think of what I'll do." She takes a deep breath, smooths her dress, and takes a seat in the middle row.

  I sit next to her.

  Piper's cheeks flush as the brunette sitting behind us moves forward a row.

  The brunette plays cool as she leans in to introduce herself. "I'm Jane. Are you new to class?"

  "Yeah." Piper presses her lips together.

  Jane looks to me. "It's sweet you and your boyfriend are taking classes together."

 
"He's not. Well, actually, I'm uh..." Piper clears her throat. "Yes, he's really sweet, but he won't be sticking around. I might not be sticking around. I'm just trying it out."

  Jane nods. "It's a good class. The best scene study class in Orange County."

  Piper's eyes light up. "It's all scene study?"

  "Except for warm up games," Jane says. "If you live around here, we can meet up and work on a scene together." She looks at me with interest. "Or we can meet up and talk about auditions and everything."

  Piper looks from me to Jane. "Yeah, sure."

  Jane pulls a business card from her pocket and places it in Piper's palm. She looks to me. "Do you mind if I steal your girlfriend?"

  "Oh, I'm not... uh... I mean... you don't mind, do you?" Piper asks.

  "Go ahead."

  Piper scoots over enough to make room for Jane. The two of them are fast friends. They're already whispering back and forth.

  They chat until the teacher rises to his feet to address everyone.

  He's in his 40s with brown hair and leading man good looks. He takes in the class of twenty. His eyes fix on me for a moment, but he's not starstruck. It's more oh, a new student.

  "Looks like we have some new faces. For anyone who doesn't know, I'm Adam. We'll handle the paperwork and payment after class." He looks around the room. "Everybody, find a partner and come to the front. I'll assign scenes before we start our improv."

  Jane grabs Piper. "Let's do one together, huh?"

  Piper shoots me a curious look.

  I nod go with her.

  She nods back okay.

  Seeing a smile spread over Piper's cheeks make me warm all over.

  Everything about acting is torture. I'm stiff as a board in warm up games. I can't remember lines. And performing—fuck that. This is a tiny theater with only twenty people, but I'm more nervous than when I get on stage to play an arena.

  I know what I'm doing with my bass in my hands.

  Here... all I know is that I'm fucking awful.

  I'm immensely relieved to step off stage and take my seat next to Piper.

  She squeezes my hand and leans in to whisper. "You seemed like you tried hard."

  "I was fucking awful," I whisper back.

  She smiles. "You were."

  We fall silent as the next duo takes the stage. Then the next. The next. Then it's the second to last, and Piper is staring at her script, poring over every line.

  Her chest heaves with each of her deep breaths. She taps the inside edges of her sandals together.

  I'm watching her so closely, I don't even hear the teacher call her name. But I do see her pupils dilate as she jumps to her feet.

  She and Jane make their way to the stage. They rearrange the furniture, placing props on the table and chairs around it.

  Jane takes a seat at one of the chairs. Piper goes behind the curtain.

  "And scene," the professor says.

  A moment later, Piper enters from behind the curtain. Only she isn't Piper anymore, not exactly. The way she moves is different. She's tough, professional, in control. She doesn't look nervous. Not a hint.

  She's cordial to her scene partner without being cold. I can get a lot from their body language. They have a professional relationship. Piper's character is the one with more respect, more class. But I can tell she's frustrated too.

  Jane's character is more surface with her anger.

  It takes me a few moments to recognize the scene as one from The Accused. Piper is playing the lawyer and Jane is playing the woman pressing charges for sexual assault. And the two of them are nailing the scene.

  Don't get me wrong. I can tell they've only been practicing for an hour. I can tell there's more room to grow. But I can also tell Piper has the potential to be fucking amazing.

  I get lost in her performance. Then in the way her expression changes as she takes in the teacher's criticism. In the way she bounces next to me and squeezes my hand.

  Now that she's done with nerves, there's joy all over her face.

  This is what makes her happy, where she belongs.

  And I want that for her.

  I want the fucking world for her.

  Chapter 24

  Kit

  After we pick up dinner at the nearest organic grocery store, we drive to the beach. It takes ten minutes to find a parking spot in the neighborhood overlooking the water, but Piper refuses to entertain any other options.

  She bounces out of the car and throws her arms around me. "This time, I'll lead."

  I hug her back. My entire body fills with warmth. It's the kind of fuzzy, soft satisfaction that only exists in pop songs and greeting card commercials.

  Only that can't be true, because I feel it now.

  She makes me happy.

  Her joy makes me happy. And, better, it satisfies something deep inside me.

  She bounces down the sidewalks of the serene neighborhood. It's dark now, well past sunset, but the streetlights cast a glow over the quiet streets.

  We turn the corner and take a steep path down to the beach. With anyone else, this would feel weird, overly intimate.

  With Piper, it's right.

  Hell, I want more.

  I want every inch of her.

  My mind clears with every step. Thoughts fall away to make room for feelings. And fuck, do I have a lot of feelings for her.

  Grey-green bushes line the path. They continue onto the soft, beige sand. We're in some little alcove, a bay surrounded by cliffs on two sides and rocks on the third.

  There are mansions sitting atop the cliffs—nice, expensive five million dollar places—but it's dark enough, people won't be able to see us.

  The expanse of deep blue bleeds into the horizon. I can't tell where the sky ends and the ocean begins. The only clue is the stars shining over our heads and reflecting off the water.

  This is a romantic spot.

  I used to hate that kind of thing, but, right now, it feels perfect.

  She lets out a needy sigh as her eyelids fall together. I'm tempted to pin her to the sand, peel off her panties, and get her screaming my name.

  Soon.

  I drag my lips over her neck and suck on her earlobe.

  She groans and tugs at my hair. "Dinner first. Then sex."

  I have to chuckle.

  "What?" She pulls back with a curious expression in her blue eyes. "What is so funny?"

  "If I'd said dinner first then sex?"

  She nods, accepting my point. "I'm not smooth yet."

  "Not yet."

  Piper finds her sandwich and can of iced coffee in the paper bag. She digs a spot in the sand for the can, sets it down, taps sand around the sides to secure it. "I'll work on it."

  I grab my sandwich and get to unwrapping it. "I hope you don't."

  "Yeah?" She's less patient. She tears the wrapping off her sandwich and takes a huge, not at all ladylike bite.

  My lips curl into a smile. It should be criminal for one person to be as adorable as she is.

  It's still hard to believe someone like her could want someone like me.

  I know I'm appealing on every surface level—hot, rich, famous, talented—but that's not what she's after.

  She sees beyond all that.

  And sees into my ugly past.

  And she's still here.

  She still wants me.

  "Kit?" She finishes the first half of her sandwich and lets out a satisfied sigh. "You're giving me a look."

  "Am I?" I take another bite. The sandwich is average, stale bread and cheap deli-meat, but her company makes this the best meal I've had in a long fucking time.

  She nods and offers me her remaining half. "Want to swap, half for half?"

  "If you want half of mine, ask."

  She nods. "Please."

  I chuckle as I trade half my sandwich for hers. "You don't have to work on smooth."

  "What if I want to become a master seductress?"

  I cock a brow. "Who are you seducing?"<
br />
  "You."

  "Then stay the way you are." I brush a stray hair behind her ear. "I like that you're blunt, that you don't have moves or lines. It's sweet. Endearing."

  She sticks out her tongue. "I don't want to be sweet."

  "It's authentic."

  Understanding spreads over her face. "I guess I'll stick with it then."

  She goes back to her sandwich. I go back to mine. We sit on the sand, watching the water lap at the beach, until we've finished our meal.

  Her company isn't like anyone else's. It fills me with the deep satisfaction that usually only comes with playing a great show or mastering a tricky song.

  She downs her can of coffee then leans back with a satisfied sigh. "God, I was starving." She shifts onto her side to look up at me. "Thanks for dinner."

  "Anytime."

  "No comments about how I'm polite?"

  "I like that you're polite." I finish my water and lay back on the sand. This used to be the kind of thing I avoided. Sand is already in my hair. It's already scuffing my leather jacket and my motorcycle boots.

  But I don't mind.

  Piper shifts onto her back and takes my hand.

  This, lying on the sand with her, staring up at the stars, nothing but the waves and our breath as our music—this is why people write love songs.

  Never wanted to write one before.

  But I do right now.

  Even though I might be bad for her.

  Even though I might destroy her.

  She runs her fingertips over my wrist. "Good dinner?"

  Not the food. But her company— "Yeah."

  "You were awfully pushy buying me all those acting classes."

  "Don't go if you don't want to."

  "I want to." She turns to her side, resting her weight on her elbow. Slowly, she runs her fingers over my chest, along the center of my button-up shirt. "For a performer, you were a pretty bad actor."

  I let out a low, deep laugh. "You're almost as tactless as Violet."

  She smiles. "I'm being honest with you because we're... what are we now?"

  Never done this before. I'm not sure. "I still like more."

  "That girl asked if you were my boyfriend."

  I've never wanted to be somebody's boyfriend, but I want it with her. I want more than that even. "We can make that happen."