by HELEN HARDT
But for that bomb threat, we would be at the after-party right now.
Of course, I hadn’t intended to stay at the party very long. My plan had been to get Heather to come home with me.
God bless the bomb threat.
I sincerely hoped no one had been injured while fleeing the concert hall. I didn’t want that on my head. But the thought was fleeting. Especially when I turned back around and took a look at the beauty that lay tangled within my linens.
She was covered in a sheen of light perspiration, her reddish-brown hair matted against her forehead and sticking to her shoulders and neck. Her eyes were closed now, her dark brown lashes a velvety curtain against her skin. Her lips were red and swollen from our passionate kisses, her breasts rosy, and the paradise between her legs dark pink and engorged.
Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
Her body was long and lean, her breasts the perfect size. Her hips swelled just the right amount, and her legs were shapely and had wrapped around me perfectly as I pumped in and out of her.
Then I noticed her breathing. Regular, with a soft snore every couple of breaths. I chuckled. Adorable. Everything about her was wonderful, even the little snore.
I longed to wake her up, to shove my cock into her again and again, to spend more time on those beautiful nipples, to kiss every inch of flesh on her body.
But something else niggled at me, something I longed for even more than taking her again.
To snuggle up next to her, to sleep with her. To wake up in the morning with her beside me.
I had never had such a thought, and it frightened me. We hardly knew each other, but what I did know I liked. She was educated, serious about her craft. I loved the music I made, but I missed opera, and I sometimes wondered if I’d made the right choice to pursue a different type of music. Of course I’d had no guarantees I would become a rock icon. And no doubt I’d had a lot of help along the way.
Help I didn’t want to think about right now.
Classical music filled the air. The overture from The Marriage of Figaro. My ring tone. I rushed to find my discarded jeans on the floor and grabbed my cell phone before it woke Heather.
I recognized the number.
And I knew better than to ignore the call.
Still naked, I walked into my bathroom and shut the door.
“Yeah?” I said into the phone.
“Did you have fun with your little whore tonight?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“We had a deal. You can fuck as many groupies as you want, but you don’t get attached.”
“Look, Alicia. I don’t have time for this right now.”
“Oh? Need to get back to your little slut?”
“She’s not a slut, damn it.”
“I was right. You have feelings for this one. Why else would you have rescued her in the middle of a bomb threat?”
“Having me followed again?”
“I don’t have to have you followed. You’re headline news. The paparazzi had a field day with this one. Everyone is wondering who the girl is that you risked your life to carry out of the concert during a bomb threat.”
Of course everyone was wondering. I couldn’t make a move without the world knowing. This life was getting old quickly.
“It’s the middle of the night!”
“This city never sleeps. Just remember who made all this happen for you…and who can take it all away just as fast.” The line went dead.
Alicia Hopkins.
My benefactor. A billionaire heiress who had propelled me to the top faster than I would’ve ever been able to get there on my own. I had let myself become her pet project. And along the way, I had given her everything else she wanted from me.
We’d had a brief affair, but when I made it to the top, my publicist said I was a commodity. I had to be available, single. Being seen on the arm of a woman twenty years my senior wouldn’t be good for the rock star image.
But by then, Alicia had become obsessed.
So I had made a deal with the devil. I could have the life she’d made for me, but no matter who I slept with, I was hers. Only hers. Why? I didn’t want to think about the reason when a gorgeous woman was in my bed.
I opened the door and left the bathroom. Heather lay in the same place I’d left her, still snoring softly.
In the morning, I would no doubt feel better about everything. I could fuck her once more before she left, and that would probably get her out of my system. After all, it had worked before with other women.
The problem was Heather Myles wasn’t just any woman.
And if I was honest with myself, I had known that when I first laid eyes on her.
I sighed. Heather was a nice girl, someone who didn’t deserve to be thrown into the craziness that had become my life.
I got into bed and lay down next to her. If only she didn’t fit so perfectly against my body. If only she hadn’t curled into me in her sleep.
If only…
I closed my eyes. But sleep didn’t come for hours.
I awoke to Heather’s lips around my cock. I was hard, of course. I was usually hard in the morning, and my dick hadn’t gone down at all since I’d been in Heather’s presence. Except for when I’d been talking to Alicia on the phone. That was always a boner killer.
It wasn’t the best blowjob I’d ever had. She couldn’t take me quite as far as Janet or suck quite as hard as Lindy. But my God, the feelings she evoked within me.
I was ready to come in her mouth, but I needed to be inside that sweet heaven.
“Come here, baby. Sit on me.”
She smiled shyly, crawled forward, and positioned herself above my cock.
“Wait, baby… The condom…”
“I’m on the pill. And I haven’t been with anyone in a while. I’m clean, Jett.”
The feel of her silky walls against mine, with no barrier… It would be heaven. “God, Heather, what are you doing to me?”
She sank down upon my cock. “What you asked. Riding you. Fucking you.”
But that wasn’t what I had meant. She had gotten inside me somehow. Stirred up emotions I had left dormant far too long. Emotions that would eventually be my undoing.
I couldn’t put her through that.
As much as it pained me, I grabbed her hips and lifted her off my cock.
Chapter Sixteen
Heather
Had I done something wrong?
My body reacted, the desire still pulsating through me. On the edge. Needed satisfaction. Was willing to do almost anything. So close. Just one more millimeter to the precipice…
But I had been yanked off his cock. Yanked off the instrument giving me so much pleasure.
“I can’t do this right now,” Jett said, his eyes closed.
My mouth dropped open. Wasn’t he the one who had begged me to get on top of him just minutes ago?
I was a big girl. I had known what I was getting into, and I had chosen to go forward anyway.
Still… In the back of my mind, a fantasy motion picture had been playing. A fantasy that I could be the one to make Jett give up his groupies and fall in love. That I would be the one who captured his heart. In fact, I was much more disappointed than I thought I would be. Somehow, that fantasy had edged its way into my reality.
I wanted it. Longed for it.
Not that I would let him know any of that.
“Sure. I understand. No biggie.” I rolled off the bed, scanning the room for my clothes.
“Hey,” he said. “Come back here for a minute.”
Was he kidding? “It’s okay. I get it. You’re done with me.”
“No, you don’t get it. Last night… It meant something to me.”
It had meant something to me too. Something amazing. But I wasn’t about to admit that at the moment. “Hey, it was a fuck. It is what it is. On to the next one, right?”
He sighed and closed his eyes but then opened them again almost immedia
tely. “Yeah. Whatever, babe.”
I scurried around, grabbing clothes as quickly as I could, and then charged into the bathroom.
I couldn’t stop the tears. I turned on the shower so he wouldn’t hear me and then sat with a plunk down on the plush toilet seat.
How had I thought I could be okay?
It is what it is.
Objectively, I had expected nothing different. That was how I needed to continue to look at this—no fantasies, no feelings. Clearly that was how Jett saw it. Plus, thanks to him, a television producer was looking at my work. So television wasn’t my first love. So what? Rock and roll wasn’t Jett’s first love either, but he was great at it, and he was still singing. Still practicing his vocation.
But I really didn’t want to think about him right now. I sniffled, swallowing back the remainder of my tears. The shower was on. Why not take advantage of it? Clearly he wanted me to leave, but I had at least earned the right to a shower.
The hot water would redden my skin and help hide the fact that I’d been sobbing like an idiot. I stepped into the marble-encased shower. Pure decadence. I hadn’t bothered turning on steam, but the water fell from not one but three massive showerheads. I looked around and found some shampoo and a bar of soap, but then just stood for a few moments, letting the anguish envelop me.
And then a body—a warm, wet body against mine.
“Hey,” he said against my ear.
I turned into him. “For real?” I sniffled, hoping the water was hiding the tears. “You kick me out of your bed, and now you get in the shower with me?”
He pulled me into him and kissed the top of my head in an almost father-like manner. His dick, hard as ever, pressed into my belly. Not so father-like after all.
“Heather, I’m sorry.”
I cleared my throat. “You have no reason to be sorry. You’re done with me. I get that. I knew who you were going into this. Maybe I’m more of a groupie than I thought. Maybe I just wanted to fuck a rock star.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. You’re different.”
“I’m not. I got what I came for, Jett. I hope I didn’t disappoint you.” Then I wanted to smack myself for saying those words. Of course I had disappointed him. I didn’t have near the experience his groupies had. I opened my mouth to take back the words but then realized that would only draw more attention to them.
He pulled me close to him again. “Please, Heather. Please just let me hold you for a few more minutes.”
Was he kidding?
I pulled back, nearly slipping, but he grabbed my forearm, steadying me.
“I suppose it was a little presumptuous of me to think I could use your shower.”
“Damn it, it wasn’t presumptuous at all. Please, come into my arms for a few minutes.”
Dear God, I had no strength. As much as I wanted to stay away from him, to begin the healing of my heart, my body moved of its own accord, and I melted into his arms, my slick skin sliding against his. He felt so good against me. If only he hadn’t shared with me some of the intimate details of his life—his love of opera, his true artistry. Maybe if he was just a guy who looked good gyrating on stage, this wouldn’t hurt so damned much.
He kissed the top of my head again and rubbed my back, which was strangely soothing even as my heart was breaking. I hoped these few moments would last forever. Of course I knew better. But still they would be etched in my brain for all time. And more importantly, etched in my heart.
I waited for him to pull back, to stop the embrace. Moment by moment, however, he held me, the water still pelting us. In my apartment, the hot water would’ve run out by now, but he clearly had a gigantic hot water heater in this mansion.
His erection pulsed against my belly, and I ached to fall to my knees and take him into my mouth. I wanted to please him, wanted to do whatever I could to stretch out this time with him.
Still he didn’t move.
So I would. I had to find the strength within me to leave this man I’d inadvertently fallen in love with.
How had I let this happen? I’d been serious. I’d been willing to have one night with him and then move on.
At least…I thought I had.
Turned out I wasn’t that strong. But at that moment I called on that strength from the depths of my bones.
And I pulled away.
“I need to leave.”
“No. Let me wash you. Let me wash your hair for you.”
What a thought! Those thick fingers massaging my scalp. Then, when I turned toward the water to rinse, he could slide that magnificent cock into me from behind…
“No,” I said. “I need to leave. Now.” I pushed past him and stepped out of the shower, looking for something to dry off with.
He stepped out behind me and handed me a plush black bath towel. He said nothing.
I dried off quickly and began to put on my clothes.
He stood there, making no move to grant me privacy. I would have liked some, but it was his bathroom, his house. I was the stranger here, not him.
I turned around to avoid his stare and put on my panties.
His inhale was swift. “You’re so beautiful, Heather.”
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, breathed in, and then opened them and continued getting dressed. Then I turned, walked past him—he was still naked and erect—left the bathroom, and found my sandals. I put them on hastily and walked out of the bedroom.
“Wait!” He clambered behind me, now clad in a green silk robe. Which of course brought out the green in his eyes.
How had this happened to me?
“Let me drive you.”
“No. I’ll get an Uber. I’m good, but thanks.” I headed down his spiral staircase.
He followed. “Please. At least let Lars drive you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Heather…”
I turned abruptly, nearly crashing into him. “Jett, stop it. Please. This is over. Let me go.”
I turned around, headed down the rest of the staircase, through the ornate foyer, and then out the door.
Susie pounced on me when I finally made it home. I so wasn’t in the mood.
“Oh my God! Lindy called me and told me Jett grabbed you after the bomb threat. Are you okay? What happened? How was it? You have to tell me everything.”
Normally I would have, but I couldn’t bring myself to describe my amazing—and then devastating—time in detail. Not even for one of my best friends.
“I’m fine,” I said, “and nothing happened.”
“You’re lying. Your cheeks are red. You went off with Jett Draconis last night and you expect me to believe nothing happened? I know you too well. Or rather, I know Jett too well.” She giggled.
Though I had believed Susie when she said she had never slept with Jett, I had no doubt she knew what he was about. She had probably witnessed him in many compromising situations.
No way would she believe nothing had happened between Jett and me. So how could I get away with this without talking?
And then my phone rang. Perfect! A diversion.
“I bet that’s you know who!” Susie arched her eyebrows.
We hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, though my heart sped at the possibility. He could easily get my number, with all his resources. In fact, he had done so already, to give it to Laney. I glanced down at my phone. My heart surged again. It wasn’t a number I recognized.
“I have to take this,” I said, forcing a smile.
Chapter Seventeen
Jett
I hadn’t had my fill of Heather Myles just yet. Usually a good romp with a woman was all it took to get me to stop thinking about her. Not this time.
I’d wanted to run right after her. In fact, it had taken every bit of strength I possessed not to grab her and drag her back up to my bedroom.
I had to forget her. I couldn’t pull someone as sweet and innocent as Heather into my fucked-up world.
The call from Alicia had s
pooked me. She didn’t usually keep such close tabs on me. Of course, I hadn’t ever jumped offstage to save a fan in the front row of one of my concerts from a bomb threat before.
At the time, I didn’t even know why I was doing it. I had acted on pure instinct—a drive to grab Heather and get her to safety, no matter the cost. I’d certainly had my fill of women over the past five years, and every once in a while, Alicia would surface to remind me of our bargain. Never before had I worried much about it. Even though I had begun to grow bored with groupies and fans who just wanted to fuck a rock star, I never imagined I would find someone who might make me wish I hadn’t made the deal.
I didn’t think Heather could be that person. Not at first.
But she had spooked Alicia. Alicia had noticed something different.
And something was different.
I never worried about falling in love. Why would I want that when I could have a new woman each night?
I was playing around on my guitar, waiting for the rest of the band for rehearsal, when Zane walked in. Actually Zeb. Zane Michaels was the name Alicia had given my classical pianist friend Zebulon Frankfurter. Yes, that was truly his given name. She had reinvented Zeb Frankfurter from classical pianist to rock star keyboardist Zane Michaels.
She had done the same thing for Jeremy Gustafson.
Jeremy Gustafson was a classically trained bass-baritone opera vocalist.
Jeremy Gustafson was me.
The world saw Jett Draconis, but inside I was still Jeremy.
And Jeremy had fallen in love.
Unfortunately, Jeremy didn’t exist anymore. Not in the real world. On the outside, I was Jett Draconis, and I wasn’t allowed to fall in love. Even if I did, I could never act on it. No woman in her right mind would agree to the terms of the deal I’d made. And if I reneged on the deal?
I couldn’t think about those consequences.
Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe this wasn’t love. Maybe it was just more of a loss than I’d ever experienced. Maybe I just needed a couple more fucks of Heather Myles’s tight little body to get her out of my system.
