Song for Me (Rock Me Book 4)

by Lee Piper

  Zeke groans.

  Drake’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Look, this girl’s solid, okay?” His gaze slides to mine, a grin teasing his lips. “Not literally, obviously. She’s got killer curves. And her tits—” He whistles.

  I narrow my gaze while trying to fight a smile. Is it possible to strangle and kiss someone at the same time?

  “Drake, I don’t give a monkey’s prick about her curves or tits. Tell me what you’ve gotta say before I. Hang. The. Fuck. Up.”

  “Okay, okay. Dude, you need to get laid more often. Maybe you and Wil should try phone sex? It’s not as good as the real thing, but you’re giving off some serious sexually frustrated vibes here.” However, when he sees Zeke’s thunderous expression, he backpedals. Hard. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’m sure your woman is more than capable of satisfying your needs.” He gulps. “Tell you what, I’ll get to the point, and then we’ll all get some sleep. Okay?”

  Silence.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.

  With harried movements, Drake props the phone on the table so it’s standing upright. But he knocks it over again by accident and it takes twice as long to right it again.

  Meanwhile, Zeke grumbles something about whiskey and a bullet. I keep my mouth shut, praying to God the metallic taste of blood will stop me from bursting into hysterical chuckles.

  Finally, the phone is in position. Drake’s arm loops over my shoulder and he yanks me to his side. “This is her.”

  “Who?”

  “The girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “The girl. Christ, I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall here.”

  “I swear on all that is holy, I’m gonna reach through the phone and strangle your scrawny ass if you don’t get to the point.”

  Drake twists the phone until I’m the only person—other than Zeke, of course—in the frame. I spy myself in the bottom corner, pale, pasty, with eyes as big as Drake’s ego.

  Zeke gives me a dismissive look. “Who the fuck is she, and why the fuck should I care?”

  Ouch.

  Drake ignores Zeke’s churlishness. Squeezing himself into the frame alongside me, he chirps, “Zeke, meet Harper. Harper, Zeke.”

  I gulp, clear my throat, then gulp again. Figuring I need to do something other than swallow, I wave. Idiot. “Hi.”

  Zeke blinks.

  My greeting is pathetic by any standards. But in my defense, I’m not prepared to meet Zeke freaking Danton at two in the morning. Or, you know, ever.

  I honestly thought Drake forgot his threat from earlier. As I packed away the equipment after the set, I didn’t see him hanging around backstage. It’s not like I was expecting him to help me out or anything. I mean, sure, he’d done it a few times before, but things between us turned… complicated since he last offered. So, I took my time and stripped the stage until nothing but the memory of the band’s performance remained.

  Fool that I was.

  Drake stayed away on purpose. Okay, so the meet and greet with fans was a legitimate excuse, and there was an after-party where he needed to show his face afterward. But I know Drake, and he wanted me off-balance. That way, he’d have a better chance of coercing me into whatever ridiculousness he had planned.

  He succeeded.

  After lulling me into a false sense of security, the damn lead singer hunted me down outside my van at crazy o’clock. I’d returned from hunting down Ray. I was about to slip inside, have a shower, and fall face-first into my bed. I was tired, frazzled, a comatose woman standing upright. In other words, I was perfect picking.

  Drake even had the nerve to reach into the back pocket of my jeans, squeeze my ass, and then retrieve my keys. Needless to say, I snapped out of it pretty damn fast. However, my threats against his dick went unheard. They might as well have been bubbles floating in the velvet-wrapped night for all the good they did me. And, after unlocking the door to my vehicle, he gestured for me to move inside like it was his freaking van. The dude has serious boundary issues.

  So, after a one-sided argument that went nowhere fast, Drake ignored every one of my creative insults and made himself comfortable on The Couch. Yep, the very one we had sex on. Earth-shattering, mind-altering, heart-melting sex. So, of course, when he mentioned he was calling Zeke, I was so distracted by long, dexterous fingers as they flew across his phone screen, replaying all the dirty deeds he’d done to me with them, I didn’t think to stop the call.

  Drake planned it all perfectly. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  A long arm then wrapped around my waist and tugged me to his side until I was cozied up next to him. Okay, sprawled across his lap. Whatever. Semantics.

  So, here I sit-slash-sprawl. Zeke Danton in my face, Drake plastered against my side, and confusion making the room spin.

  “Harper, huh?” Zeke growls.

  Blinking, I shake my head. As my vision clears, I chastise myself. Pull it together, girl. This is your speaker we’re talking about. Your one ticket out of this mess with The Collector. Don’t ruin it by acting like a fool.

  With that pep talk, I rouse myself from my inner bedlam. I’m still not entirely sure what Zeke’s motives are, but it’s becoming clear he’s as much a victim of Drake’s well-intentioned meddling as I am. “Yep.” I cough. “That’s me.”

  “That design really yours?”

  Furrowing my brows, I level Zeke with a look so full of annoyance it’s a wonder he doesn’t hang up on me. “Of course, it’s mine.”

  Zeke considers my response, his expression giving nothing away. I hate not being able to read his face. People that closed off are people to be wary of—I should know, I’m one of them.

  “I’m not stupid, you know. I’m not some dumb roadie that doesn’t know the difference between a voice coil and a dust cover.” Adamant in my abilities, I meet his stare head-on. Reckon you can intimidate me? Bring it.

  “Tell me about your speaker.”

  “Why? So you can steal my idea? I don’t fucking think so.”

  Beside me, Drake groans.

  In front of me, Zeke tips his head to one side. Blinks. Blinks again. “Drake didn’t tell me what shit-filled hole you’ve dug yourself. But he did say you need to get out of it fast. That true?”

  Gritting my teeth, I nod.

  “I’m a busy man, Harper. The only reason you’re hearing my voice and not a dial tone right now is because Drake trusts you. Understand?”

  Again, I bite my tongue and nod.

  “I know people in the business who can open doors that are locked to you. Since you’re a roadie, I’m guessing you’ve got time but no money. Correct?”

  I’m getting really sick of nodding.

  “So, this is how it’s gonna be. If I like your idea, and that’s a big motherfucking ‘if,’ I’ll be your silent backer. I’ll set up some meetings with people who matter and get your foot in the door. What I want in return are regular updates on the project and a healthy cut of the profits.”

  I shuffle in my seat. “How much are we talking?”

  “We’ll figure that out once I’ve crunched some numbers and spoken to my accountant.” He pauses. His astute caramel gaze, so forthright in its assault, pins me in place. “But let’s get one thing straight. I’m doing this as a favor to Drake, not you.” He lets the statement settle heavily on my shoulders before continuing. “I’m not someone to fuck with. If you’re stupid enough to screw with my goodwill, no one, and I mean no one, will find your body. Am I clear?”

  Sighing, I rub my forehead with my fingers. Great, another person threatening my life. Take a damn ticket and get in line. Exhaustion makes it hard to think. “Yep. You’ll kill me. It’ll be bloody and terrible. Got it.”

  He grunts.

  A hand rubs soothing circles on my back. I lean into it, needing the warmth it brings.

  “This is your first and last chance,” Zeke warns. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Sure thing,” I mutter
under my breath. “Let me get right on that.”

  “Tell me about your speaker.”

  Turning to Drake, I search his face. His expression is intense, like he’s willing me to jump out of a plane at thirty thousand feet. Will he catch me? Will those hands that held me close, caressed my curves, and worshipped every inch of me be there when I need them?

  I have nothing but blind faith to go on. Nothing but a frayed ribbon of trust looped through a rusted ring of hope. The prospect is terrifying. It causes nerves to flutter in my stomach, tension to tangle my limbs, and worry to creep up my backbone.

  If I tell Zeke my idea, I’ll have nothing to fall back on.

  If I trust Drake, I’m giving him all of me.

  There will be nothing left. Nothing that’s solely mine. I’ll give it all away, and for what? Cash? No. Cash isn’t a strong enough incentive. I need more than that. Family? I love Ray, I do. But his alcoholism is holding me back. Freedom?

  Bingo.

  Diving into this venture and making a success of it will guarantee my freedom. I’ll finally be able to make my own choices. Live the life I know I’m capable of. I’ll be able to prove to myself that I’m strong enough, smart enough, brave enough, to reach for Sirius and pluck him from the sky.

  I must be silent for a long time because Drake ducks his head. His lips skim my ear as he murmurs a low, “You’ve got this,” before straightening, eyes still fixed on mine.

  A small smile tugs the corner of my mouth. “I know.”

  And I do. I’ve spent years living in the shadows while searching for the light. I’ve tinkered with my equipment hoping to catch a break, wanting to be ready when the right opportunity presented itself. It has. So, rather than question the possible scenarios that can go ass over tit, I need to square my shoulders and prepare myself for the flying leap I’m about to take. It’s going to be epic.

  As the decision takes root in my mind, I feel my body growing stronger, becoming more alive. Drawing on every reserve I have, I embrace the thrumming electricity sparking through my limbs, injecting fire in my cells and power in my veins. Fuck yes, I can do this. I can see my idea through to the end.

  So, after rolling my shoulders and loosening the taut muscles in my neck, I straighten my spine. Facing Zeke, I tip my chin. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  My exhale is long and low. “Okay. I’ll start from the beginning.”

  And I do. I tell him every last detail.

  Chapter Six

  “You can admit it, you know.” Drake smirks.

  “Admit what?” I huff, maneuvering the quad box into place. The massive speaker is almost as tall as me and weighs three times as much.

  He stands from where he crouched over the foot pedal. “Admit you were wrong. I wasn’t trying to sell you out yesterday. I was helping.”

  I exhale a puff of air, the force of it shifting blonde strands of hair from my eyes.

  It’s been a massive twenty-four hours, and I’ve been awake for twenty of them. After speaking with Zeke, Drake ended the call and we sat in silence for a long while. Then, without a word, he led me to my microscopic shower, stripped me from my clothes, and turned on the hot water. With a gentle nudge, he pushed me under the welcome spray and demanded I scrub the day off me. Since my head was still spinning, I didn’t argue. Drake must have been shocked because he didn’t make a big deal of it.

  Instead, he returned a short while later with one of my clean, albeit tattered, towels and turned off the water. Taking my hand, he led me from the shower and dipped his head, a small grin creasing the corner of his mouth as he dried me off. Then, after reaching behind him, he pulled the T-shirt he was wearing over his head. I barely got a chance to admire the artwork that is his corded, muscular frame because in one quick movement, he slipped it over my naked body. The material cascaded over my curves, hugging my breasts and skimming my hips. His scent rose from the soft fibers, and the heat retained in the shirt warmed my flushed skin. I lifted the neckline and inhaled a deep breath, my eyes locked on Drake. He remained quiet, but once I dropped the material, he tipped my head back and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was soft, gentle, and over before I was ready.

  “We’re not fucking tonight,” he’d murmured against my mouth, his tongue flicking out to dampen my plump flesh. “I’m gonna hold you, that’s all.”

  Confused, I watched as he took off his boots, socks, and jeans, throwing them in the direction of the couch.

  Then, he stood before me in black boxers that did nothing to hide the bulge nestled behind them. “Eyes on the prize, princess,” he’d chuckled.

  I shrugged, staring at his cock. “They are.”

  With a tortured groan, he steered me toward the ladder leading to my loft bunk. “Move your ass before I own it.”

  Smiling, I ascended the steps.

  Once in bed, he pulled me close, burying his nose into my hair. “Fuck, you smell good.” He nuzzled my neck. “Never letting you go.”

  Good, I’d thought to myself as his body cocooned mine. I don’t want you to. Not ever. But I didn’t say it out loud.

  “Well?” Drake’s question snaps me back to the present.

  Blinking, I glance around me. Right. We’re at our next destination, and I’m setting up for tonight’s show. If the size of the room is anything to go by, the crowd’s going to be bigger than the last one. Seems word has spread about the talented three-piece tearing it up in their live performances.

  With one last shove, I heave the quad box into position. Straightening, I roll my neck, loosening my aching muscles. The stress from the last few days is catching up with me. I need a massage and a month-long vacation. Neither of which I’m going to get. “Well, what?” Understandably, I don’t want to admit the obvious.

  “You were wrong. Which means I’m right.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  With narrowed gaze, Drake stalks toward me. Each footstep brings with it a crackle of thunder. “And how do you figure that?”

  Defiant, I flip my long braid over one shoulder, doing my level best to appear unaffected. It’s hard when the swagger of his hips and the challenge in his eyes makes me want to launch myself in his direction, lips first. “Because I haven’t heard back from Zeke yet. For all I know, he’s selling my design to the highest bidder right the hell now.”

  I don’t actually believe a word I’m saying. He’s Willow’s man, after all. She’s one of the most genuine people I know. There’s no way she’d give her heart to a man ruthless enough to ruin the dreams of another. Besides, Zeke managed to get through an entire phone conversation with Drake without killing him. That alone tells me he’s good people.

  However, watching the way Drake’s stare darkens as he hears my defiance is too much fun to pass up. I especially love how he rakes my body with a hungry gaze, strong hands clenching into fists once the slow perusal is done. “You’re kidding me, right? You don’t actually think I’d introduce you to a guy who’s going to screw you over?”

  After tucking some hair behind my ear, I shrug. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Damn straight, we will.” Drake stops in front of me, sucking all the heat from the room and projecting it into the small space between us. His hands clamp down on my waist. Long fingers loop through the belt hooks of my jeans before yanking me to him. “And I can’t wait to see the look on your face when he calls you back.”

  “You know what? The man has a sexy-as-fuck phone voice. I can’t wait for him to call either.”

  A displeased rumble sounds from deep within Drake’s chest.

  “It’s so low and gravelly.” I feign a shiver. “Gets me hot just thinking about it.”

  “You’re messing with the wrong man.” Drake wraps a hand around my neck, forcing my head back until our eyes clash. A thumb presses against my raging pulse, digging deeper and deeper into my throat. “I’m the one who gets you hot. No one else. Me.”

  My clit throbs as it
rubs against my jeans. Clenching my thighs together, I try to ease the building ache, but the movement only aggravates it further.

  “You feel me?” He rolls his hips, his hard length pressing against my stomach.

  Christ, do I feel him. A low mewl escapes. I clamp my teeth shut, hoping to God Drake doesn’t hear.

  The slow grin overtaking his features is evidence of my slip. “Need something, princess?”

  “No,” I breathe.

  “You sure?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “You don’t need my fingers inside you?”

  I try to shake my head. It doesn’t work.

  “You don’t want me to rub your clit and cover it in your juices?”

  Swallowing is impossible.

  “You don’t want me to drop to my knees, spread your pussy lips wide, and feast on your sweet cunt?”

  Sweet Lord, I’m soaked. I need an orgasm and a change of panties. Stat.

  Drake releases me and takes a step back. “Shame. I would’ve done it right here if you’d asked.”

  My eyes dart around the stage, taking in sound techs as they huddle behind the mixing desk, lighting crew as they survey the rigging, and back of house staff as they pace every which way looking all kinds of frazzled.

  Licking my lips, I turn back to Drake. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

  He raises a dark eyebrow. “Wanna bet?”

  His challenge emboldens me; it reminds me to push for more. His dare acts as a mirror, demanding I reach for the reflection I want, rather than being satisfied with the one glaring back at me.

  The woman I’m destined to be is ballsy, I know this. She’s confident, takes what she wants, and doesn’t apologize for it. But is she the kind who’d go so far as to fuck a guy in public?

  Yep. She would.

  She wouldn’t answer to anyone but herself. And right now, she wants a damn orgasm.

  I shift forward until my breasts brush against Drake’s chest. He stands firm, his tall body looming over my smaller one. However, there’s a quick inhalation that causes his torso to rub against my hardened nipples. The thought that he’s just as hot for this moment as I am sends excitement coursing through me. My eyelids flutter closed.