Perfect Ten: A Rockstar Romance

by Kelley R. Martin

  I lift my shoulders in a lazy shrug before half-heartedly tossing my ball down the lane. It makes an awful racket as it bounces on the wood and then rolls into the gutter. “It’s not. I was just hoping you’d go along with it.”

  She plops down on the bench behind the control panel. “Sorry, but you’re out of luck. I’m newly celibate.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask as I sit next to her.

  Caroline nods. “No offense, but guys are the worst. I need a break from them.”

  “What about girls? Are you taking a break from them, too? ’Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not above cross-dressing for you. You can call me Jen if you want.”

  She throws her head back and laughs so hard she’s clutching her stomach.

  I’m quickly falling in love with that sound the more I hear it. Like I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive if I don’t hear it every day. It’s so pure, so joyous. She’s not laughing to humor me, she’s laughing just because.

  My gaze drifts down to her mouth as thoughts of kissing her flood me. I might go for it if the timing wasn’t so bad. Something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate a guy making a move on her after she just got done telling him she’s taking a break from men.

  Clearing my throat, I stand. I need to put distance between us right now. She smells too fucking good and my self-control is practically non-existent.

  “I’m hungry. You?”

  She shrugs. “I could eat.”

  We move into the living room where I hand her a room service menu. “I hope you don’t mind eating in? I’m not really big on crowds.”

  Caroline snorts. “Then you’re in the wrong town.”

  She takes the menu and looks it over while I put something on the TV. I feel like we need background noise. Something to keep me from listening to every little breath and sigh she makes, because it’s got me imagining other sounds she might make.

  Like how she sounds when she comes. Does she still make those little breathy sighs, or is she a screamer?

  Dude, stop picturing it.

  I’m torturing myself over here.

  Eventually she closes the menu and sets it on the end table. I pick up the phone, holding the receiver to my ear as my finger hovers over the button for the front desk. “You ready?”

  She nods. “I’ll just have a salad.”

  I hang up instead, frowning. “Please tell me you’re not one of those girls who’s afraid to eat real food in front of a guy.” I hate that shit. Or worse, when rabbit food is all they eat because they’re perpetually watching the numbers on the scale.

  Women are supposed to have curves. They’re supposed to have tits and asses and hips. There’s nothing more off-putting than having sex with a bag of bones.

  I should know. I’ve bagged half the Victoria’s Secret Angels.

  I didn’t think Caroline was like that, based on the way she fills out her clothes. Hell, her smokin’ hot body was the first thing me and every other guy in a twenty-foot radius noticed about her.

  Pink blooms across her cheeks as she looks away. “I’m not.”

  “Then what—”

  And that’s when it dawns on me.

  The beat-up shoes. The worn, lived-in clothes.

  She’s not afraid to eat in front of me. She’s worried about how much it’s going to cost.

  My jaw clenches. “Don’t order the cheapest thing on the menu. Order what you want. It’s on me. And no, I don’t expect anything in return.”

  “I didn’t think you did. I just—” Her blush deepens as she looks at the closed menu sitting on the table. “It’s all so expensive.”

  A weird feeling settles over me, tightening my chest. I’ve never had a girl worry about spending my money before. The fact that she cares makes me want to spend more.

  I pick up the phone again, pressing the button for the front desk. As it rings, I ask her, “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

  ***

  “Oh my god, I’m stuffed.” Caroline pats her belly. “Thank you, Ten, that was delicious.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  I ended up ordering a bit of everything. Surf and turf, sandwiches, desserts. Even ordered a bottle of champagne, which we’re quickly polishing off.

  She frowns at all the uneaten leftovers. “What are we gonna do with the rest of it?”

  I shrug. “You can take it home if you want, but a lot of this stuff won’t reheat well.” Or I could always text the guys and ask them if they’ve eaten.

  Caroline hauls herself up. “I’ve got a better idea. Can you call the kitchen and ask for to-go boxes?”

  Ten minutes later, we’re standing in the warm night breeze as Caroline hands all of our untouched food to the homeless man and his dog sitting outside the hotel. He smiles up at her as he thanks her, his dog wagging its tail as it sniffs the white Styrofoam boxes.

  It’s such an incredibly thoughtful, yet simple thing to do. And both of them look so grateful for her kindness.

  I’m ashamed to admit that giving the leftovers to someone in need would’ve never crossed my mind. I’d have just thrown them away.

  She shrugs as we start walking back inside. “I saw them on the way in. I didn’t have any cash to give him, but this works too.”

  Goddamn.

  I’ve never met a girl who’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. I’m used to girls with the “me, me, me” mentality.

  I honestly don’t think Caroline has a selfish bone in her body.

  We pass the restrooms on the way into the lobby. “All that champagne is going straight to my bladder. I’ll be right back,” she says, disappearing into the women’s restroom.

  Eyeing the front desk as I wait for her, inspiration strikes.

  Apparently that old saying about how meeting the right woman will make you want to become a better man isn’t bullshit after all. Because even though I know I’m not the kind of guy who deserves a girl like Caroline, I suddenly want to be.

  Go figure.

  The man behind the counter smiles as I approach. “Hey, that guy out front with his dog—”

  “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. King.” The smile’s wiped from his face almost immediately. “We’ve had problems with panhandlers lately.” He picks up the phone and says, “Let me call security and I’ll have him escorted off the premises.”

  “No, no,” I say quickly, holding up my hand. “I wasn’t complaining. I was going to ask you to give him a room for the night and put it on my tab.” I have no idea how long he’s lived on the streets or if there’s a shelter he can go to, but I’m sure he’d appreciate having a shower and stretching out in a nice, comfy bed.

  Pulling out my wallet, I set my credit card on the counter.

  He hangs up the phone slowly, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks. “Yes, of course,” he says, taking the card.

  “You guys have a laundry service, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can you make sure his clothes are washed? And, uh, is there some kind of mobile dog grooming service that could come out?” I’m sure his dog would like a bath too, and maybe a haircut. Poor thing’s probably burning up under all that fur.

  He smiles tightly. “I’m sure our concierge will be able to find something.”

  “Good. Put all his incidentals on my tab, too. Food, drinks, whatever he wants.”

  He nods once. “Yes, sir… And if he asks who his benefactor is?”

  “Tell him it’s just a guy trying to do a good thing.”

  “Will do, Mr. King.” He hands me back my card as Caroline walks up.

  “Everything okay?” she asks, looking back and forth between us.

  I slip my card back in my wallet and steer us away from the front desk. “Everything’s great.”

  I’m not about to tell her what I just did. Seeking credit for a good deed seems…tacky. Granted, I’m not an expert on good deeds, but it feels like you’re undoing all that good karma you just put into the world. So I’ll keep my m
outh shut and be content in knowing that guy and his dog will have a bed to sleep in tonight.

  Caroline cocks a brow. “When were you going to tell me?”

  My hand freezes right as I’m slipping my wallet back into my pocket. Shit, does she know who I am? “Tell you what?” I ask carefully.

  She turns around and walks backward, a taunting smile curving her lips. “That you’re some kind of big shot, Mr. King.”

  I exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “It’s just the black American Express card. It makes people think I’m more important than I really am.” It’s true, more or less.

  Her eyes narrow infinitesimally, like she’s not sure if I’m full of shit or not. Shrugging it off, she resumes walking forward. “So what’s next?”

  “How about we…go upstairs, get out of these clothes, and get wet?”

  The look on her face makes me laugh. It’s equal parts horror and shock. I walk past her, frozen in place, and say over my shoulder, “I’m talking about going swimming, Caroline. Geez. Get your head out of the gutter, you perv.”

  FIVE

  Caroline

  You can do this. Hell, this is nothing compared to what you do most nights.

  My little pep talk in the bathroom mirror does absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. I slip on the fluffy white robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, tighten the sash around my waist, and count to three before I open the door.

  Barefoot, I pad through the luxe suite toward the balcony. The wall leading out to the private pool is one giant glass folding door, opened up to let in the humid night air. Ten’s already in the water, his back to me as he peers over the edge of the infinity pool overlooking the strip below.

  God, that’s a breathtaking view. And I’m not talking about Vegas’s lights twinkling all around us.

  Ten’s back is just as colorful as the rest of him, intricate designs inked into his skin with such detail that I can’t even begin to imagine how long he must’ve sat in his artist’s chair. That’s patience I just don’t have.

  He turns around when he hears me, water dripping down his torso. The details from his arms bleed onto his pecs and curl up his neck, but his front is otherwise devoid of ink, and for good reason.

  Why cover up a body like that?

  My eyes roam over the lean, taut muscles that eventually form a chiseled arrow pointing to his black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs and the distorted, watery sparrows sitting on his hips.

  Please. Like I need any more prompting to check out his package.

  I’m doing it just fine on my own, thanks.

  “My eyes are up here,” he jokingly chides.

  Feeling my face heat, I jerk my eyes away from the definite bulge I saw hiding under the water.

  My fingers fumble with the sash as I turn around and try to remove my robe. When I finally untie it, I pause and say over my shoulder, “Turn around.”

  As soon as he complies, I slip the robe down my shoulders and lay it on the lounge chair beside me. I grip the rail as I step in the water, surprised to find it so warm.

  It feels like bathwater.

  Wading over to the side, I sit on the underwater bench and pull my knees to my chest, trying to afford myself what little modesty swimming in my underwear can. “Okay, you can turn around.”

  Ten looks over at me and then slowly makes his way toward me. The still water parts for him effortlessly. I have to look away because I can’t not check him out as he strides to me like a predator stalking its prey.

  He sits next to me, resting his arm on the marble ledge behind me, seemingly content to spread out. He gives me a look I can’t quite decipher—a little ghost of a smile that’s got me feeling incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden.

  “What?” Even though I’m in my underwear, I feel more exposed than I do when I’m naked on stage.

  That’s why I kept the wig on. As long as I’m wearing it, I’m not me. I’m Violet. She’s become somewhat of a security blanket for me.

  He shrugs, his secret smile becoming more pronounced. “I didn’t say anything.”

  My face feels like it’s on fire. “No, but you were thinking it.”

  Ten chuckles. “More like fantasizing it, actually.”

  Rolling my eyes, I splash water at him.

  His grin remains unaffected.

  Looking for something to talk about that won’t make me blush, I reach up and touch the hair at the nape of his neck. “Your hair’s shorter than I imagined.”

  This amuses him. “Yeah?” he asks, running a hand over his slicked-back hair. “How long did you imagine it?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Just longer. Shaggier, I guess.” It was hard to tell under his beanie, but that’s the first thing my mind came up with to fill in the blanks.

  In reality, his hair’s much more polished than I would’ve thought. A bit longer on top, but short on the bottom. It’s actually kind of hipster-ish.

  It’s also a lot lighter than I would’ve thought. It’s brown—maybe even dirty blond when it’s dry. I figured it was black like everything else on him.

  “I like it.” Nodding to his tattoos, I say, “I like those too.”

  “Do you have any?”

  I cock a brow at him. “Did you see any when I was taking off my robe?”

  Frowning, he opens his mouth like he’s about to play dumb, but then thinks better of it. His mouth twists to the side, trying to hide his smirk. “How’d you know I peeked?”

  I give him a “bitch, please” look.

  Ten laughs. “No, I didn’t.”

  “That’s because I don’t have any. My mom would have a stroke if I got one.” Resting my chin on my arm, I tell him, “She was a showgirl back in the day and their bodies had to be perfect. Getting a tattoo was a big no-no and even though she’s not in the business anymore, that mentality’s kind of stuck with her. My body has to remain a blank slate, otherwise no director’s going to hire me.” I roll my eyes. “My mom’s convinced I’m going to follow in her footsteps, and I have, to an extent. I’m a dancer. Hell, I even wear costumes on stage. But that’s as far as the similarities go.”

  His eyes light up. “You’re a dancer? Where?”

  Chuckling, I say, “Nowhere right now. My boss tried to get handsy with me tonight so I turned in my resignation by kneeing him in the balls.”

  Ten’s jaw tightens as he nods slowly, like he’s coming to some kind of realization. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Why you were drinking like a fish out of water.”

  It was actually just the cherry on top of a shit week, but I’m not about to tell him that. Instead I feel myself growing defensive. Almost embarrassed. “You were, too. What’s your excuse?”

  He shrugs. “Since when does a guy need an excuse to get drunk with a beautiful woman?”

  Letting go of my knees, I stretch my legs out in the clear water then let them fall to the pool floor. “I thought I was grotesque.”

  “You were. But when you drink, every woman’s beautiful.” Winking at me, he does the cheesy finger-gun, shooting thing.

  “Oh my god,” I mutter, laughing. “You’re…”

  “Incredibly charming and handsome?” he offers, wiggling his brows.

  Yes.

  Shaking my head, I lick my lips, my teeth snagging across the plump skin to keep from smiling. He really shouldn’t be encouraged. His head’s big enough.

  “Ridiculous,” I say instead.

  He leans forward, a devilish grin curling his mouth. “There’s still a ‘dick’ and ‘you’ in ridiculous, so I’ll take it.”

  SIX

  Tennessee

  Caroline’s peals of laughter are like music to my ears. She laughs like no one’s watching. Like full on “throw your head back, clutch your stomach, laugh till it hurts and you can’t breathe” laughter. It’s beautiful.

  I could seriously sit here and watch her for the rest of time, and I’d never get bor
ed. Not once.

  Reaching up, she wipes at her eyes as her laughter fades. We’re closer now, her thigh touching mine as we sit and stare at each other, both of us grinning like a couple of fools.

  “How drunk are you?”

  She swallows, her eyes darting down to my mouth. “Drunk enough to know that I want to kiss you, but sober enough to know that I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Let me get you another drink,” I say, pretending to climb out of the pool.

  Caroline smacks my chest, rolling her eyes. “You’re incorrigible—”

  Leaning forward, I cut her off with a kiss. I don’t know why, but every time she insults me, it’s like foreplay.

  She’s surprised at first, her lips stiff and unyielding. Just when I think maybe I’ve made a mistake, she tilts her head and opens her mouth, gently flicking her tongue across my bottom lip in a teasing, playful sweep that would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already seated.

  Goddamn. Her mouth feels like a jolt of electricity, pricking my skin and making my cock shoot so hard, so fast that I’m dizzy from the sudden blood loss.

  Groaning into her mouth I pull her closer, dragging her across my lap. She weighs nothing in the water, but she feels amazing.

  All soft and supple.

  My hands slide up the outside of her thighs, then curve around the mounds of her luscious ass, grinding her panty-clad pussy against my aching cock. Breaking away, Caroline gasps as I curse.

  Kissing is something I’ve done a million times, but with Caroline it feels new. Exciting. It’s got my blood pumping in a way that’s never happened before, even when I was some horny teenager who hadn’t gotten his dick wet yet.

  She touches her fingers to her lips, dazed. She must feel it too.

  That buzz still lingering on her skin like an echo of our kiss.

  I exhale a shaky breath. It takes everything in me not to start thrusting against the heat radiating from the apex of her spread thighs, nestled right over my throbbing cock. But if she wants to put the breaks on this, I’m not going to push her for more.

  I kind of love how good this hurts. I love her self-control, which is not something I ever thought I’d say about a woman.