KADE: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance

by Jane Anthony

  Bob’s panicked burst into the delivery room startles my thoughts. “Cami, baby, I’m sorry.” He runs to her bedside like a doting lover, full of apologies and kisses. She’ll forgive and forget because the alternative is too terrifying to fathom. It’s not until you’re staring at the relationship in your rearview mirror, miles after you’ve driven away from it, that you realize the truth. Loving Bob is lonelier than being alone.

  “Good luck, Cami,” I say, collecting my things and heading for the exit. She’s going to need it in more ways than she realizes.

  ***

  I chuck my coat and purse on the bench as the door clicks behind me. I plop down next to them, pulling off my boots and kicking them into the corner. The house is quiet, and I’m grateful my parents have gone. I feel a slight sense of guilt leaving Kade to babysit Shay, but the disastrous events of the evening have left me too mentally drained to deal with my mother right now.

  The faint hum of the television calls to me from the family room. It flickers in the dimly lit space, making everything seem that much more surreal. Kade’s immense frame stretches out over the loveseat, causing it to appear small by comparison. His forearm is tucked under his head. One foot hangs off the arm, the other rests on the floor. When he sees me approach, he kicks himself up to a sitting position. “Hey, sweets. How’d it go?”

  I shrug, letting out a deep sigh. “I need a big glass of wine first then we’ll compare war stories. Where’s Shay?”

  “Shay’s in bed. I told her you’d come up when you got home.”

  I push myself up the stairs to check on my daughter. Shay is just a tiny lump in the corner of her bed. Her arm hangs off the edge, breaking free from the tightly tucked blanket around her.

  “Shay, baby. I’m home.” I insert a stray lock of hair behind her ear and run a knuckle down her soft cheek.

  Drowsy eyes flutter open then close again. “Am I a big sister yet?” she asks in a listless, quiet voice.

  “Not yet. Soon. Go back to sleep.” I drop a soft kiss on her temple and close the door behind me as I exit.

  Kade waits for me at the bottom of the stairs with a wine glass in hand. My heart catapults at the sight of him. Being with Cami was a stark reminder of the insecure person I was as Mrs. Bob Daniels. I loathe that woman. I’ve been denying relationships for fear that I’ll become her again, but now, I know that was Bob’s manipulated way to keep me tied to him. That was never me at all.

  I peer down at the beautiful man below and realize he’s made me feel more loved in a month than Bob ever had in all our years together. Kade is not without his faults, but above all, he’s been there for me when I needed him. I didn’t even have to ask. He simply inserted himself into my insane life and shouldered some of the burden so I didn’t have to do it alone.

  My feet move with a mind of their own. I run down the steps, crashing into him, lips first. His hand splays across my back pulling my body against his. My fingers get lost in his hair as our tongues dance together in twirling harmony.

  I pull away, righting myself on the bottom step where I’m standing, but his arm stays circled around my waist holding our hips close together. “What was that for?”

  “I’m just finally realizing what I’m thankful for.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Kade

  AINSLEY STEPS OUT onto the stoop as I pull up in front of her house. I get out of the car and stop short. The full moon is a spotlight behind her, creating an otherworldly glow that turns her white lace dress into a beacon in the dark. It shines through her unruly mass of curls and kisses her smooth skin.

  She slides her arms into a black leather jacket as she comes down the steps. My eyes follow her body as she glides toward me, her sky-high heels giving her the illusion of having legs for days. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You’re too good to be true.” I wrap my hands around her slender waist and pull her against me as I lean on the car. “Sometimes, I just can’t believe you’re real.”

  A sexy smirk curls along her dark red lips. “I assure you I’m real, and I’m all yours.” Her fingers rest in the hollow of my exposed throat while her other hand grabs my loosely fastened tie, letting it glide through her fingers. “Broke out the big guns, huh?”

  “What can I say? I’m a classy motherfucker.”

  I open the car door to help her in then jog to the other side. A quiet rock ballad plays through the speaker. The sound of her humming along is as pleasing as the music itself. The night has only just begun, and it’s already awesome.

  The night is unusually warm as we stroll through the city en route to the gallery. The place is lit up like a Christmas tree. We’re one of the first to arrive, and she does a quick tour, making sure everything is in its place and all the vendors are doing their jobs. She scurries around the gleaming hardwood floors on her nude-colored stilts commanding attention. She’s impressive. My usually sweet Ainsley is no nonsense when it comes to her job, and it shows. The exhibit she put together is extraordinary.

  Before long, the place begins to fill, and I can feel the eyes and hear the whispers. Ainsley threads her hand in mine. “Come on. People want to meet you. Let’s socialize.” She leads me through the room, stopping to greet the folks she knows. Charming the pants off people is an art form in its own right, one I’ve honed like a science. I can work a room like it’s my job.

  Eyes stab me in the back from the corner of the room. The Aussie Fuck. He hangs in the corner, pretending not to notice me. It’s cool. I get it. A month ago, I was the guy vying for Ainsley’s affection and plotting his demise. The tables have turned, and the best man won.

  He catches her eye and waves, but the look on his face is less than pleased. She waves back and slides her hand into mine giving it a tight squeeze, letting him know her choice is made. When he turns back toward his own date, I realize I was a jerk to think he was a better fit for her. He gave her up way too easily. The guy who deserves her is the one who’s willing to fight for her.

  “Ainsley, the caterer needs you.” A young girl with Peter Pan hair comes running up to us in a panic. Her corduroy skirt is a total throwback to the Marcia Brady days.

  “Oh sure, Robin. Be right there. Excuse me, Kade.”

  Ainsley runs off, leaving me standing there alone. The main area is teeming with people and tuxedoed wait staff carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres. I wander around the quieter parts of the gallery, eying the various pieces placed systematically about. Most of it is beautiful, some of it is strange, but one in particular holds me hostage.

  In the simplest terms, it’s a sleeping man in a bed, but it’s anything but simple. The details on the black and white picture are so lifelike and intense they appear to jump off the wall. As if the man is lying right in front of me, not drawn on the canvas.

  The wild dark hair is a stark contrast against the white background. It conceals most of the man’s profile, but the artist clearly defines the straight nose and angular jaw. The man’s Herculean back and shoulders are severe compared to the soft backdrop of the bed. His lower half is swathed in a bed sheet with one athletic leg peeking out. But it’s the arms that hold my attention. Black patterns swirl around the thick ribbons of muscle expertly recreated on the paper. My mouth drops open with a shocked gasp.

  I’m staring at a portrait of myself.

  Goose bumps prickle my flesh as I move in to get a better look. My eyes trace every line and curve until I see what I’m looking for. In the tiniest area, hugging the arch of the foot, is the artist’s signature: A. Daniels.

  “I sat in the room and watched you sleep until my ride arrived.” Her heels echo through the quiet hall of the gallery as she approaches. I stand stock-still with my eyes glued to the charcoal drawing on the wall. Her drawing. “I committed this image to my memory thinking it was the last time I’d ever catch this glimpse of you again. Even now, when I close my eyes, I still see it. I didn’t want to leave you, Kade. I had to. When you told me you loved me, I was too hur
t, too damaged to accept it.”

  With my defenses down, I turn to face her. “And how do you feel now?”

  “I’m not fully mended. Not sure if I ever will be. But I’m ready to take the leap again. I’m ready to love you, to let you love me.” She takes my hand, resting it on top of the soft lace covering her chest. “You have my heart, Kade. Don’t break it.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Ainsley

  THE HOUSE IS dark when Kade and I enter through the front door, save for the lonely overhead light illuminating the entryway. The minute the door clicks closed, he pulls me against him. The leather of my jacket crinkles in his embrace. My lips land in the hollow of his throat as I tug at the loosely fixed knot around his neck and slide the tie from his collar.

  He turned many heads tonight, and I’m sure it had less to do with the fame and everything to do with the dress clothes tailored to fit his body, highlighting his broad shoulders and long legs in a way that compels a woman to look twice. Thing is, he didn’t even notice the stolen glances. He kept his attention focused on me, watching with his intense blue gaze like I was the only woman in the room.

  He slides my coat off my shoulders, relieving me of its weight and dropping it on the bench next to his. Smoldering blue eyes watch me as I head for the stairs. “You runnin’ away, sweets?”

  “Not anymore.”

  I pause on the bottom step and reach for him. Now that I’ve admitted my feelings out loud, I can hardly contain them. The floodgates on my heart are fully open, and I feel like I’m bursting at the seams. I love him with a passion that burns so brightly it’s blinding. It didn’t matter how much distance I put between us, how much I fought against my feelings, or the fear lodged in my gut that someday I wouldn’t be enough for him. I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t want to.

  Kade takes my hand and follows me to my room. My heart beats so fast I can hardly contain it, just like it did our first night together. His lips brush against mine with a tentative sweetness that makes me melt against him the minute they touch. We shared a hundred kisses, a thousand heated glances, but not one of them compares to this moment right here, right now. I’ve broken down my barrier. Opened myself up to him. And from this moment on, nothing will be the same.

  He glides the zipper on my dress open. With a feather-light touch, he slides his hands up my arms then pulls the straps down. The airy material whirls off my hips. I work the buttons on his shirt, taking the time to run my hands over the strong curves of his body. His abdominal muscles contract when I trace the viciously yummy V that disappears beneath his waistband.

  His lips land on mine again as he glides his tongue into my mouth just enough to send me over the edge. I’m ravenous for more, but he keeps it soft and slow. One hand rests on my back while the other slides under my knees as he lifts me off the floor. The move is so intimate, so possessive, that when he lies me on my bed and settles between my legs, I’m trembling. Emotions overflow so fast they bubble over the rim. “Say it again, please,” he says, stroking the hair off my forehead with tenderness.

  “Say what?” I tighten around him, holding him so close that I can feel every inch of his body against my naked skin.

  A low growl vibrates against my neck, his voice hoarse with desire. “That you love me.”

  “I love you, Kade,” I say, arching my back as his pelvis presses against mine. His erection is a hard, thick bulge inside his pants, rubbing against the soft damp cotton of my underwear.

  The strong muscles in his back ripple as he moves down my body with the agility of a panther. His breath is hot against me. He pushes my legs apart with his hands and sears his burning mouth over my panties, making them even wetter with his tongue. His thumbs hook in the slim lace band around my waist. Licking his lips, he maintains eye contact as he pulls them slowly down my legs then drops his head between my thighs again.

  My head falls to the side as light pixies dance behind my eyelids. There are no words between us now. Just a series of pants and grunts, and the sound of his swirling tongue tasting me like a dainty dessert. A raspy gasp tumbles from my mouth as he pushes two fingers inside me all the way to the knuckle and back out again, hooking them just so as if coaxing the orgasm out of me.

  A surge of energy rockets through my body, but Kade’s free hand digs into my hip, holding me to the mattress. I bite down hard on my lip, tasting a trickle of blood on my tongue.

  He sits up, pulling the belt from his pants and inching them down his hips until his cock springs free, then pushes himself into me while the orgasm still blossoms in my body. His hips move with slow and steady power, slipping between my thighs in an easy, determined tempo that pulls me under his riptide, immersing me in his wild river of ecstasy until I’m gasping and holding on for dear life.

  Another orgasm crests over me, but instead of a blinding jolt of fire, I’m consumed by a delectable plateau that doesn’t quit rolling through me until I’m wrung out and panting from exhaustion.

  Being fucked by Kade Black is nothing short of spectacular, but I have no words to describe the feeling of him making love to me like this. He doesn’t say a word, and he doesn’t have to. I see everything I need reflected in is soulful blue eyes. I’m the only one.

  CHAPTER 47

  Kade

  MUSIC IS IN my soul. I hear it everywhere. It’s in the wind rustling through the trees and the rumbling of the cars on the street. One rhythmic beat rolls right into the next, during even the simplest of everyday things. Ainsley’s body is no different. The unparalleled harmony of her screams and whimpers as she shudders in my arms is like an orchestra. The sweet fluid gushing between her thighs is an ovation. It’s a private concert only for me. I’m the conductor and the audience.

  I run my hands along her cotton skin, caressing every inch that lays before me. My lips travel the same path, worshiping her. She stirs and smiles in her sleepy haze, like she’s being awakened from a dream. My mouth moves softly over each breast and down her arms. I trail up each leg and across her stomach. Her fingers sink into my hair as I kiss her neck, her jaw, her lips.

  “You’re insatiable,” she says, her voice thick with exhaustion.

  I suppose I am, but Ainsley makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. I don’t have to pretend when I’m with her. She doesn’t want me for the sake of the rock star fantasy—she just wants me. Hearing the words I love you falling from her beautiful lips was like a shot of adrenaline. Even now, it races through my bloodstream, making me feel invincible.

  I give in and roll to the side, allowing her to bask in her post-orgasmic coma. She scoots to face me. Her silhouette is a perfect panorama of dips and hills. My hand sweeps down the smooth curves from her shoulder, into the low valley of her waist, and up over the steep summit of her hip. “I just want to hear you scream my name one more time.” I smirk, gliding down her ass cheek and bringing her leg over mine.

  A slow, seductive smile curls on her lips. One eye peeks open, and the other one follows when she catches me looking. She slides on top of me, pushing me to my back and sitting on my thighs. Her heat radiates at the base of my groin, and I drag her higher onto my shaft.

  “What do you plan to do with me now?” she asks with a head tilt and a raised eyebrow. Two adorable pink circles stand out on each cheek, a remnant from our recent lovemaking. Her big doe eyes appear innocent, but her hips pulsate with the savvy of an alley cat, covering me with slick wetness.

  “Whatever I want.”

  My back leaves the mattress. When I grab her head to crush our lips together, my cock sticks up hard and ready between us. Her hand closes around the base with a gentle squeeze. The pressure increases. She pumps her fist once . . . twice . . . three times.

  Frustration gets the best of me. I lean back on my palms as the jerk of her hand picks up speed, but it’s not what I want to sate my needs. Her other hand slides between us, fondling my nuts. My head rolls back, reeling in the absolute perfection of her grasp. “Whatever you want, huh? Seems I�
�m the one who’s got you by the balls.”

  Goddamn. A chick like her is every man’s fantasy—an angel on the street and a vixen in the bedroom. How anyone would let her go is beyond me. She’s smart, talented, and sexy as hell. When we first met, she seemed so demure. I expected a kept woman who was used to missionary with the lights off. I thought pushing her to her limits would be a fun challenge. She’s not the same timid woman I met all those months ago. She was a quick study, rising to every challenge, and meeting me toe to toe.

  Her tongue leaves a glistening trail of saliva up my chest as her hands tug in impeccable unison. I fall to the bed. My dick is purple and throbbing in her tight fist, which is now moving with the power of a freight train. My head pushes into the mattress, fingers dig hard into her thighs, teeth clench, and breath gasps out in rugged grunts. I’m staggering along the edge of exploding in her palm, when all I feel around me is sweltering hotness.

  The air rushes from my lungs as her body glides down my cock inch by inch. Her inner walls clench and unclench, but she sits like a stone, watching my irritation grow with delight.

  “Ainsley, baby, you’re killing me.” A shit-eating grin spreads across her face. Forget vixen, this woman is the devil.

  I thrust my hips, and she bounces hard, her mouth turning into a small ring as a playful “oh” bolts from her lips. The heels of her palms dig into my chest for leverage as her body begins its slow roll. Her ass goes in a tight circle, causing her tits to face the sky with every rotation. I lie back, resting my hands on her swiveling hips, while enjoying the view of her riding me in unbridled, naked glory.

  When she leans back, I feel myself rake against her insides. I grasp her hips and push. Her face turns toward the ceiling; sharp nails make ten tiny divots in my pecs, and a jolt of heat rockets between her legs. “You like that.” It’s a statement, not a question.