by Lisa Suzanne
She shakes her head and fights off a laugh.
“Studmuffin?”
She rolls her eyes. “Definitely not.” I give her a look like I’m hurt, and she giggles. “The right one will come to me. What does your mom call you?”
I answer without missing a beat. “Awesome Adam.”
“Liar.”
The front door slams shut just as I’m about to give an amazing retort, and Emily’s eyes widen. “I thought he’d be home late so we could get in and out without seeing him.”
“Want me to handle it?” The first thought that comes to mind is that I’d fight dragons for her. A douchey ex is the least of my worries.
The second thought that comes to mind is that I can’t believe I just thought about how I’d fight dragons for her.
These feelings I’m having for her are getting stronger by the minute, and I’m the one who told her not to go falling in love with me. There’s too much at stake here to break that rule a few days into our agreement. What if we try dating and wind up hating each other? We’re stuck in a contract for the next six months. We’d both be miserable, and I can’t do that to her.
Or to myself.
She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “I got this.”
And I know she does. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for.
I follow her out to the family room where a guy who clearly isn’t good enough for her perches on the couch.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
“Just making sure you’re not taking any of my stuff,” he says. He looks like a cross between a weasel and an opossum with those stupid beady little eyes of his. A weasel-opossum, or wossum, if you will.
She rolls her eyes. “Your stuff is shit and I don’t want any of it anyway.”
I can’t help my laugh at that. She’s pretty funny when she’s all fired up.
And sexy as hell.
She turns around to me, and my chest tightens as a rush of emotion travels down my spine at the sight of her. The red cheeks tell me how angry she is, and tears are threatening to tip over her lids. She doesn’t want him to see, and I don’t blame her.
I want to beat the shit out of this clown for treating her the way he did. She deserves so much more, and the more time I spend around her, the more I wish I could be the one to give it all to her.
“Go finish packing,” I say softly, and she nods and moves to step around me. I brush her back with my hand as she passes in a gesture of solitude to let her know I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.
I turn and face the wossum. “Thanks for fucking this up so I could finally have my chance.”
He stares at me, jaw slackened as he fishes around for a retort that doesn’t come, and then he finally asks, “How long has this been going on?”
Protect her. It’s my natural instinct and my first thought. “It’s always been there. You just got in the way for a few years.”
“Bullshit.” He stands and points a rather aggressive finger in my direction. “You had a girlfriend.”
I lift a shoulder. “Someone to pass the time while I waited for Em. I knew we’d end up together once we finally got the timing right.”
“Whatever,” he mutters.
“Enjoy your time with Beth,” I say, and his eyes widen at my knowledge of the actual situation—like maybe we aren’t lying, like maybe we do share a real connection. “And don’t worry, she won’t take anything that belongs to you.” I tap a plastic storage container with drawers—the kind you get when you go off to college for the first time, not the kind you put in your apartment you share with your girlfriend. It’s filled with game consoles and remotes and joysticks—typical bachelor pad living, but he lived with her. He wasn’t a bachelor.
Good God, I’m glad she’s getting out of this place. “I can afford to buy her better storage solutions than this piece of shit.” He looks offended by my words, and I’m glad. “Anyway, thanks again. If you hadn’t turned out to be such a dick, I might have had to wait even longer for her.” I shoot him a smile and then head back to my wife to help her finish packing.
When I get back to the bedroom she used to share with that piece of crap, she’s swiping away tears. She seems surprised to see me, and she turns away from me like she doesn’t want me to see her crying.
I take a few steps toward her, and then I’m close enough to touch her.
I pull her shoulder, and she turns around to face me. She tosses her arms around my neck and buries her face in my chest. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?” I ask.
She looks up at me, and my heart races. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, tear-stained cheeks and all. She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me, and I can’t help when I give in.
It’s...everything.
It starts with just lip touching lip, but the emotional way she clings to me and how my arms automatically go around her and the way our mouths are hungry for each other—it’s all more passionate than any other kiss I’ve had in my life. It’s sexy and full of fire and the promise for more.
I open my mouth to hers first as I pull her closer, crushing her to me in the heat of whatever this is.
And then it’s over far too soon.
She backs away, her eyes glistening and her cheeks burning. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “I just...I heard what you said. Thank you.”
I shoot her a tight smile and nod like it was no big deal, and then she turns back to the box she’d been packing before the wossum came home.
It wasn’t a big deal. I wouldn’t just fight dragons and wossums for her.
I’m starting to realize I’d do pretty much anything for her.
CHAPTER 22: EMILY
That kiss...
Jeez Louise, that kiss...
I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
It was hot and steamy and somehow forbidden and illicit too. Maybe because we were standing in the bedroom I shared with Chad, where I made one final memory in that room that happened to be the hottest, most passionate kiss of my life. Far hotter and far more passionate than anything I ever shared with my ex.
Or maybe it was because of Adam’s words to me that I shouldn’t go falling in love with him.
Too late.
I think I’ve been in love with him since I was twelve.
It was in the way he held me and the way our mouths moved together like neither of us wanted to let go. His arms laced around my waist and pulled me close, and I clung to him like my life depended on it because in that moment I felt like it did.
And then I pulled away.
I was stupid to pull away from the best kiss of my life, but I had to. I appreciated that he stood up to Chad when he thought I wasn’t listening, and that was why I kissed him. I didn’t mean for it to have so much fire behind it.
He didn’t let go.
I did.
And that kiss brought along something else: the thought that he just might have feelings for me, too. Kylie mentioned that he’s different around me, and he said something in his drunken state last night, but hearing it and experiencing it are two totally different things.
I’m lying on the bed we’re sharing for the next few days while Adam is at some meeting with the rest of MFB at their record label. The kiss was yesterday, and I spent the majority of today with Kylie going over plans for the wedding in between thinking about the kiss. The wedding has come together quickly—something that’s pretty easy with the right amount of money, apparently.
And I can’t stop thinking about Adam.
The thought of moving into our new place weighs heavily on me and is so very bittersweet. Sweet for the obvious reasons of moving into a home that’s literally right out of my dreams, but bitter because it means we’ll be moving into a place where we’ll each have our own bedrooms.
My official duties as his personal assistant start tomorrow along with filming Rock on the Road. It’s a whole lot of transition and even more pretendi
ng, but I’m ready for it. At least we’ll have the privacy of our own home on the beach to escape the cameras when we need to.
Or at least so I think...
When Adam gets home, he looks a little nervous.
It’s late, and I’m on the couch in the family room watching mindless reality television when the whole band walks in. They all disperse to various other rooms except for Adam, who takes a seat on the couch.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, pausing the TV. “How was your meeting?”
“It was okay.” His brows furrow, and he looks at the TV rather than at me. “The meeting was partly band business and partly about filming for Rock on the Road. They, uh, want to put cameras in our house.”
“Here?” I ask.
“Well, yeah.” He shakes his head and motions between the two of us. “But I’m talking about our house.”
My eyes widen. “Our house?”
He nods. “Yeah. Our house. They want footage of us moving in, having breakfast together, living as newlyweds.”
“Are you serious? You’re telling me I won’t have a moment of privacy even in my own home?”
He lifts a shoulder. “No cameras in bathrooms or bedrooms, and it’s only if you agree to it.”
I sit up a little straighter. “Why the hell would I agree to it?”
“I don’t know.” He looks around the room wildly like he’s searching for an answer. “That’s what I said, too. Why would any of us agree to any of this? But the answer for MFB is simple. Season one was to make ourselves known, and season two is to thank our fans. I don’t have the answer for why you’d do it, and I understand if you say no.”
“Then no.” My answer is firm.
He nods. “Okay. I won’t ask again.”
“I just...” I trail off as I try to explain why I feel so adamant about this. “I don’t know how to pretend to be a wife, and to have to do it in my own home twenty-four-seven sounds impossible. But what does it mean for the show?”
“What do you mean?”
I fidget with the remote before I ask the question that’s on my mind. “Does it mean you’ll get less screen time?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Probably. The others agreed to cameras here, so they’ll have more footage to work with. But we can spend more time here so they can get what they need for our newlywed angle.”
“What will you tell them about why I said no?” I ask.
He looks confused. “The truth? Why, what do you want me to tell them?”
“I don’t know.” I hold up both hands. I don’t want to be the reason Adam gets less screen time than the others, and I did agree to do the show with him in exchange for a hundred thousand dollars. Is saying no sort of like not holding up my end of the deal?
I’m torn, and I want to say no, but I also want to fulfill the terms of my contract, and more than that, I want to make Adam happy.
“Tell them it’s fine. But only in the garage, the entry, the kitchen, and the family room. The rest of the house is off-limits.” At least that gives me a little wiggle room for privacy.
“They’ll want the hallway leading to our bedroom, too.”
My heart thunders in my chest. That means we’ll have to continue sharing a bedroom, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my hands to myself. I thought there was an end in sight knowing we’d be moving soon. I thought we’d each get our own space for privacy.
Looks like I was wrong.
It doesn’t matter, though. I made a promise, and I intend to follow through. “Fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asks tentatively.
I nod. “I signed a contract that I’m all in on this, so yes, let’s do it. And don’t ask again or I might change my mind. Again.”
He laughs and holds up a hand like he’s making a vow. “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t ask again.”
I smile. “It’s our last night camera-free. What do you want to do?”
His eyes seem to glaze over with a mix of heat and lust, but I’m positive it’s all in my imagination. I’m seeing what I wish I could see. He shrugs. “Watch reality TV?” he suggests, and I laugh.
“I was thinking tequila shots and getting blackout drunk again.” I wink at him.
“Your night sounds more fun, but the last time I did that, something happened I really regret.”
His words are salt in an open wound mixed with a knife to the heart. Just when I thought we were turning over a new page together after that kiss, he mentions for the first time that he really regrets what happened that night.
I don’t know if he means marrying me or possibly having sex with me or waking up next to me...or maybe all three. Maybe it’s the tattoo he regrets, the one thing that left a permanent, physical mark on us both.
It doesn’t matter, though, because it all hurts far worse than I imagined it would to hear him admit it.
The smile slides off my face and the twinkle slips out of my eyes.
He holds up his hand, like showing me the hardware on his third finger is further proof of his regret, and it only makes my heart drop down even further.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—maybe even to apologize for ruining his life and littering it with regrets, but he speaks before I get a chance to.
“I gave away my favorite boxers to my wife when she had no pants the next morning.”
I purse my lips and smack his hand away before punching him in the shoulder. He grabs the spot of the offense dramatically, acting like I really hurt him.
I can’t help my wide smile as the hurt from thinking he regretted marrying me turns suddenly to something else entirely at his teasing.
Something like hope.
We end up watching the rest of my reality TV show together, sitting a little closer than two people pretending to be married should be sitting as I hang onto the hope that someday down the line, after our six-month contract is over, we won’t have to pretend anymore.
CHAPTER 23: ADAM
Last night was so...normal.
Most nights aren’t normal for me. I’m usually out with MFB and we’re playing a set or greeting fans or making an appearance. I’m often putting on an enthusiastic façade because it’s what people expect from me based on how I’ve been portrayed in the media along with the rest of MFB.
My life isn’t normal. Strangers recognize me on the street and ask for a selfie. I can’t handle my own social media anymore with the number of direct messages I receive on a daily basis—only a small part of the reason I finally hired a personal assistant.
But last night, I sat and watched a reality television show with my wife. We didn’t kiss, didn’t touch, and didn’t drink. We didn’t scroll our phones. We just sat and did nothing.
And it was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.
It was in sitting there beside her, a little closer than friends should sit but a little further than newlyweds might, that I figured out what’s so intriguing about her.
Everyone around me is always so damn loud. The women just look loud with too much make-up as they hit on me, screaming in my ear to be heard over the loud music at a club. The men around me are the guys of MFB, and we get paid a lot of money to be loud. My sister is loud and obnoxious and brash.
But Emily has this quiet strength about her I’ve never experienced before.
She’s the calm in the storm, yet she brings the thunder.
She’s the serenity of the sea, yet she makes waves.
She’s the tranquility of night, yet she brightens every room she enters.
I left her upstairs in my bed to start my day with a cup of coffee. I don’t know how to share a bed with her and not give into my feelings, so I tossed and turned all night as I fought every single urge I had to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer to me while I tried to remember why it’s a bad idea to get involved.
The morning is filled with reminders.
One worker sets up a camera in the kitchen while another works in the family room.
/>
Rock on the Road Revisited, the official title of our second season on the show, starts filming today. And that means everything’s about to change...again.
Our performance won’t be limited to public appearances. It’ll be all hours of the day unless we can manage to escape to the bedroom or spend time away from each other, but we both signed the contract stating that we’d travel together over the course of this arrangement.
The cameras just remind me that things are about to get a whole lot harder.
Dax checks on the workers and slides into a seat beside me at the table. “You ready for all this?”
I shrug. I guess I have to be. I assume filming hasn’t started yet since Kylie hasn’t briefed us yet, but I have no idea whether the cameras are on or not, and I don’t want to talk in front of the guys installing them anyway. “Sure.”
“Is your wife?” He snickers as he brings his coffee mug to his lips.
“Sure is.”
“You ready for Emerson’s tonight?”
We booked a night at our old stomping ground to film the intro to the first episode. It always gets crazy there now that we’re fairly well-known, and the bar will be packed tonight with familiar faces.
I nod. “Can’t wait to get back to our roots.” I glance up at the guy working a few feet away from us. “Can we talk for a minute?”
His brows wrinkle, but he nods toward the basement door. “They haven’t set up down there yet.”
I grab my coffee mug and follow him down.
“What’s going on?” he asks, settling on the couch and sticking his feet up on the coffee table.
I pace back and forth in front of him as I try to find the right words.
He watches me for a few beats then sits up with his feet on the floor. “Dude, you’re scaring me. What is it?”
“I think I’m in love with my wife.”
He laughs, but he sobers when I stop pacing long enough to catch his eye and frown.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Isn’t that what we all want out of life?” he asks.
I resume my pacing. “Maybe, but we signed a contract. I have to live with her for the next six months with the cameras scrutinizing my every move. What if I tell her, and what if she feels the same, but what if things go south? Then what? Then I’m stuck in a fucking torture chamber with an ex. I can’t stop thinking about how I feel about Bree now and how it would feel if I had to live with her and pretend to be happy with her in front of the cameras.” I shake my head. “I just...can’t.”
