His to Love: A Bad Boys and Bands Romance

by Adele Hart

  His to Love

  Bad Boys and Bands

  Adele Hart

  Copyright © 2018 by Adele Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Also by Adele Hart

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Also by Adele Hart

  Devour Me-Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Also by Adele Hart

  Alphas and Virgins Titles

  Thrill Me

  Tempt Me

  Take Me

  Choose Me

  Kiss Me

  Devour Me

  Make Me Titles

  Make Me Yours

  Make Me Crazy

  Make Me Wet

  Make Me Wild

  Make Me Happy

  Make Me Love You

  Hot Heroes Titles

  My Toy Boy

  My Cocky Cowboy

  My Naughty Professor

  Bad Boys and Good Girls

  Slow, Hard Puck

  Fast, Hard Ride

  Long, Hard Pass

  Bad Boys and Bands

  Your to Love

  Hers to Love

  His to Love

  Naughty Royal Romance

  The Prince’s Bride

  Boxsets

  Alphas and Virgins Volume One

  Alphas and Virgins Volume Two

  Make Me Volume One

  Make Me Volume Two

  Deliciously Dirty

  Guilty Pleasures

  My Hot Hero

  Hard

  Foreword

  Hey Girl,

  Is it possible to fall in love at first sight? Ever look a man in the eyes and know he’s the one for you? Would you do anything to make him yours including, but not limited to, tying him to the bed? Oh…you do that on the regular? I thought that was special.

  What if that man is the lead singer for your favorite band and happens to be your next-door neighbor? What if you can’t get through a single dong on his latest album without three panty changes?

  Yep, that’s love. Or at least, that’s love when Rainy McAllister moves next door to Kris Brock, also known as Benjamin Brock, the lead singer for the Septempermentals.

  Soon she has him singing a new tune, a love song that’s meant just for her.

  Could this happen to you too? Grab your map of the stars. I’ll race you.

  Peace out,

  Adele (Drops mic to lace up her tennis shoes.)

  One

  Rainy

  Starting over wasn’t what Rainy McAllister had in mind at this point in her life, but since she had to do it, she was going to make the best of it. Getting a place in Portland’s Grant Park neighborhood was a bit of a break. She couldn’t afford to buy the house on 47th Avenue—not yet anyway—but the rent was reasonable. It helped a lot that her new employer secured the lease for her. The cheeriness of the neighborhood and the relatively easy move had to be signs that the tough financial times were behind her, and the sun was going to start showing through the dark clouds.

  The neighborhood in Grant Park wasn’t much different from the one she left back in Baltimore. Her home was the typical restored baby boomer cottage, like the ones in neighborhoods all over the country. So she wasn’t sure why she felt like she had moved to the edge of the earth, but she did.

  She’d made a deal with herself—mostly for her parents—that if she didn’t make a decent living by the time she turned thirty, she would put the guitar down, say goodbye to her musical aspirations, and get a real job. And now she’d reached that age.

  It was ironic that Rainy moved to Portland, the birthplace of alternative rock—her drug of choice. She took a job geographically located in the heart of creativity and music. She was positive it was the universe’s way of taunting her to plunk her right in the middle of the music scene directly after the death of her dream. No matter how hard she wished it wasn’t true, Rainy wasn’t a musician anymore, although in her heart she always would be. In the back of her mind, she caught herself scheming to fit gigs on open mike nights into her schedule. She’d have to bury those ideas and focus on her new life as a corporate lawyer, at least until she got back on her feet and paid her parents back. Between them and her new employer who’d found her the house and paid for her move—a move that did not make her happy—she was stuck. If only she could go back in time and do it all over again…

  The Uber dropped Rainy off at her new home. She stared at the front door, trying to feel connected. It had picture-perfect curb appeal with its gated picket fence and slate stone walkway that led up to a generous front porch.

  Rainy felt like she was walking onto the set of an old-fashioned movie when she stepped into the gate. The yard and the house were so quaint, so perfect, and yet she felt empty. It just didn’t seem real. She opened the front door and cut through the kitchen to the backyard. It was green and rich due to Portland’s humidity. She just needed a moment to herself. A moment to adjust to her new life. A moment to let the disappointment of a failed dream die. The air was filled with amazing aromas. Someone had a grill going in the middle of a Friday morning and Rainy was suddenly starving. She turned her head in search of the source, and saw wisps of smoke curling into the air next door. She peeked through the wooden slats of her fence and saw her neighbor—at least she thought it was her neighbor. He was tending skewers on an open grill. He took a dramatic swig from a bottle and then dumped a fair amount of liquid on the flames, causing them to rise and lick and hiss like a dragon.

  Rainy blinked. If she didn’t know better, she would swear the man looked just like Benjamin Brock, the lead musician for the Septempermentals. It was one of the weirdest moments of her life, like she was dreaming. There was no way it was him, though her body reacted to him as though it was.

  She had that instant longing that ached in her chest—a feeling she reserved for musicians and the occasional movie star. She chalked up her vivid mirage to disappointment and the stress of so much rapid change.

  She tiptoed up to get a better look over the fence.

  The man turned to her. Rainy tried very hard not to stagger, or overreact in any way, though it was tough. It was indeed Benjamin Brock, and he stared back at her with a devilish expression. She could feel his charisma all the way from where he stood, and it made her stomach twist and her core clench. All sorts of naughty, bold thoughts raced through her mind.

  He gave a half-hearted wave so she returned the gesture. It was all so surreal.

  “I’m your new neighbor,” stammered Rainy.

  She did not faze him at all

  “You sound sad about it,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “I think I am,” The emotion of her predicament threatened to make her cry.

  “All right then,” he said with a shrug.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.”

  “If you have a dish and a fork you can join me,” He flipped the skewers over with his bare fingers. No doubt having callouses from playing guitar for so many years created a barrier to the heat. “Just hand your plate over, and I’ll load it up.”

  That made Rainy laugh. There wa
s a reason Benjamin Brock was a front man—he was drop dead gorgeous as well as talented, and apparently, a bit weird in real life. He wasn’t model beautiful, but he had a wonderful face and plenty of allure, and the perpetual wicked twinkle in his eye wasn’t bad either. She just couldn’t figure out how such a charismatic man was so unconventional, but they were in Portland so being hip and trendy, if not a bit unconventional, was kind of a requirement.

  She clarified, “You want me to pass a plate to you and you’ll send it back full?”

  “Yeah,” he answered plainly.

  It had sounded bizarre at first, but somehow it made perfect sense. He was Benjamin Brock and he was willing to share his food, but maybe not his time. She could live with that. Rainy retreated to the kitchen, got a plate and a fork, and handed them to him over the fence. He had a habit of looking her directly in the eye. His look pierced her to the core. She tried her best not to blush.

  “No other dishes in your house?” She teased him because she couldn’t resist.

  “It’s a thing. I just have what I need. If I have guests, I have them bring their own. It’s just a suggestion, not a rule. I’m not a fan of rules.”

  Rainy nodded. She could officially count herself as a guest of Benjamin Brock.

  “I’m Kris by the way.” He seemed to watch her face for some reaction.

  Rainy nearly slammed into the fence. She was looking at the Benjamin Brock, not a guy named Kris, but his secret was safe with her.

  “Oh.” Her voice trembled and that embarrassed her. “I’m…” She was losing her mind. She stood there for a moment trying to remember her name. “I’m Rainy.”

  “Are you sure about that? Beautiful name by the way if it’s real.” He raised his brows with skepticism.

  “Yeah, I’m sure, and yeah, that’s the name my parents gave me.”

  “I know what you’re thinking.” He stretched his arms out like he was a sacrificial offering. “I go by Kris.”

  He’d read her mind.

  “Then that’s what I’ll call you,” she said gently.

  “Cool.” He took another swig of his beer.

  Two

  Kris

  Kris drew back the board that he engineered on the common privacy fence between his and the house next door. He loaded up Rainy’s plate with skewers of roasted assorted vegetables, but he had also heated her plate. Now she would need mitts to handle it, or he’d have to wait until it cooled.

  “You know what?” he asked with mild impatience. “Come around. I’ll hand it to you through the gate. Sorry for the hassle.”

  He watched the top of her head as she walked along the fence to the gate. She had the shiniest, softest looking hair he’d ever laid eyes on in real life. He wanted to reach over and touch it.

  She dashed through her side gate and swung over to his. When he opened it, her face lit up as people’s often did when they first glimpsed his back yard. He had a collection of statues and ornate landscaping that surprised first-time visitors. For him it was a personal magical space, and he was pleased by her reaction to the wonder of it. But there was more to the pull he was experiencing with her. His reaction to her wasn’t like what he usually had to most people. There was something real and honest about her. She knew who he was and it didn’t seem to matter. He liked that. He let her pass him as she took in the space with wonder.

  Kris had a multi-tiered fountain in the middle of the yard and eclectic statues of various media dotting the perimeter. Some were gargoyles, there were absurd ones like a cartoonish fish and a clown, and some were realistic nude forms of men and women. There was one of both depicting a passionate scene that made Rainy’s breath hitch—he heard the unmistakable sound. His face flushed and his blood stirred knowing the erotic statues affected her.

  “You okay?” His voice vibrated through the air. He couldn’t hide the gravelly baritone that left his lips—a telltale sign of his attraction to her.

  If she wasn’t a new neighbor, the thought crossed his mind to seduce her. He had done that a lot when he was first well known, but then he stopped man-whoring around. It went against his conscience to take advantage of fans. It wasn’t nice and it wasn’t safe. It was tempting, and many of his cohorts didn’t bat an eye indulging in mindless promiscuity. He held back the desire he felt for Rainy, but the attraction was strong, and he was reconsidering his stance on superficial relationships.

  “I’ve never been moved by art before,” she confessed. “I mean physical art. It doesn’t usually do anything for me.”

  “Which one in particular draws you in?” He baited her though he knew damn well it was the near pornographic statues that made her gasp.

  She looked at him with big eyes and the sweetest embarrassment on her face.

  He took mercy on her and changed the subject.

  “This plate is hot,” he warned. “You might as well just eat with me. I won’t keep you long.”

  They sat on the picnic bench in his backyard. She looked around his backyard. He followed her line of sight to his garage. It had a wall-to-wall door on the back as well as the front so a car could drive all the way through it. Left open, it was set up to jam. He noted her studying his guitars. He had a half-dozen or so setting on stands in a row.

  “I’ve got quite a collection.”

  His statement drew her focus to him. He found her so beautiful. She was definitely stirring him in a way he hadn’t been stirred in a while. He lived a great life, and he got to make a living doing what he wanted to do. Fame, however, was a double-edged sword. While the money was great, there was a part of him that was jaded and that tended to make him feel ungrateful which was completely insane.

  The ugly side of doing so unbelievably well was that it brought out the worst in people. Sometimes he just wanted to make a simple connection but it was hard to know what people’s motives were.

  There was something about Rainy, even though he had just met her, that was refreshingly honest. Maybe he just was desperate for someone to be real. To like him for being Kris and not Brock.

  “So Rainy… where do you come from?”

  “I’m a transplant from Baltimore.”

  Kris’s eyes widened. He loved Baltimore.

  “Ever been to the Papermoon Diner?” he asked eagerly.

  Her face spread with warmth at the mention of the eclectic eatery.

  “Of course. It should be a national monument to everything tasty. I’d go back just for the Oreo cookie pie.”

  “It’s almost like Baltimore took a page out of Portland.”

  “Or the other way around.” She lifted her shoulders. “Baltimore was here first.”

  “Fair enough. Why are you here then?”

  “I am going to work for Grand Canyon.” Her eyes were troubled, but she smiled trying to hide it.

  “Oh,” he winced. “I can see why you’re sad.” She didn’t look like the type to work for the Amazon wannabe.

  She made a pained face. “It’ll pay the bills.”

  “I can see that you feel the same way I do about that company.” There was nothing wrong with Grand Canyon. Then again there was nothing right with it either. It was simply a knock off retailer. Kris preferred things with heart. Nothing flat-lined him faster than a place that lacked creativity and ingenuity. “Never have to leave your house. Grand Canyon provides everything from healthcare to groceries and whatever your heart desires. What kind of pod are you going to work in?”

  She wrenched her face up and looked away, though she flashed a smile afterwards.

  “Pretty sure the same kind that the other thousand employees work in.” She glanced around his back yard. “I can guarantee you that it won’t look anything like this.”

  “That’s why you sounded unhappy.”

  Kris lifted a bottle of beer and offered it to her.

  “This isn’t the one you chugged from, is it?”

  “No.” He grinned and pointed to the bottle by the grill.

  “Okay.” She palmed the ope
n bottle.

  “I don’t think I drank from it,” he teased, arching his brow.

  When her eyes darted to his, he winked. Her head pivoted to the garage again.

  “Something in there that interests you?”

  She shrugged. “I’m just admiring the instruments.”

  “You play?” He studied her. She had the look of a creative, but no creative he knew would sell his or her soul to retail.

  “I’m not going to tell Benjamin Brock I play.”

  He could have grabbed her and kissed her just then. She was cute, refreshing, and a musician.

  “Tell Kris then.”

  She rubbed the pads of her fingers. While her callouses weren’t readily apparent, on closer inspection, they were there. That was like foreplay to Kris. Only an artist could understand an artist.

  “I play, I guess.” The tension in her face relaxed.

  “You guess? You know what this means, don’t you?”

  He lifted his skewer and drew down with his fork, releasing the veggies and tofu. He licked the fork, looking her right in the eye, and blew her a kiss. “Saying you play is like saying you swallow.”

  Her eyes grew wide and then she laughed. “That’ll do, Benji,” she said with a wicked grin.

  “Nicknames already. We’ve only just met.”

  “You likened my playing guitar to oral copulation.”