ROCK HARD (A BRITISH ROCKSTAR BAD BOY ROMANCE) (11 page)

M
att had
to bang on the door forever to get me out of bed. Sharp pangs of brutal throbbing pain shot through my head and my hand, and as the memories started flooding in, I tried to turn them off. After I’d punched Rocket and fallen on the bottle, Ian had taken me to his room, and called the medic we kept on staff to stitch me up. It hadn’t hurt last night, but it was screaming this morning. Ian had allowed me to leave, after promising to go right to my room. Instead, I’d stumbled to Catherine’s room and then back to my own room when she didn’t answer.

But I didn’t want to remember any of it. I didn’t want to see it all play out in my head over and over. I didn’t want to feel like such a fuckin’ prick, but I just was, for fuck’s sake. If everyone didn’t piss me off so much, maybe I wouldn’t have to lose my shit all the time.

Rage raced through my veins as I showered and dressed. I tried to avoid getting the stitches wet, but it wasn’t easy, which just pissed me off even more. Rage had been my closest companion since Lennon had died and had continued throughout losing Ally and now this huge responsibility of constant touring - sometimes it’s all too much to fuckin’ handle.

And then they push me. Over and over.

But that was no excuse for my fuckin’ violent outbursts. I felt like shit for hitting Rocket. I hadn’t hit an actual person in a long bloody time. Fuck, if I was him, I wouldn’t put up with this shit, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had bailed on the tour by now. Who could blame him? I have no idea why any of them stay.

Oh, wait. Yes, I do.

The bloody money.

It’s always about the fuckin’ money.

Gotta sell tickets. Gotta keep moving. Gotta sling the merch. Gotta sell the records.

I always thought once we’d gotten this big, I wouldn’t have to worry about the money, that it would just flow in and I’d get to sail the Caribbean in my yacht or something. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all. It was a lot to take, it exhausted you, the constant traveling, and partying and then leaving every physical ounce of energy you have on the stage every night.

For fuck’s sake. I sounded like a pussy, but whatever. That’s just how it was. I sucked it up, I did my best and I was grateful, dammit, but it was hard. The booze just made me lose it now and then.

And now there was Catherine, who probably hated me by now, so I probably didn’t need to worry about it anyway, but I was. When she didn’t answer the door last night, I was stunned. I’d never been turned down by anyone, and my pride was taking a beating.

Maybe that’s just what I bloody needed, though. Every fuckin’ morning I woke up and vowed not to be an asshole that day and every fuckin’ day I managed to break it.

When I finally made my way down to the waiting crowd, I was a little surprised to see everyone there. Including Rocket. Including Catherine.

Even so, it was just as I’d expected.

Stony glares and icy silence. Rocket wouldn’t look my way at all, and I winced when I saw his swollen black eye. Catherine was the only one who would look at me. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled, but it didn’t make me feel any better. She looked at me with fuckin’ pity, and that was the last thing I wanted to see when she was looking at me.

Why had I fucked everything up so much?

“Alright, let’s go,” Ian said, and we all piled into the limo. For the first time, I wished we were in the buses today instead of flying. At least then I wouldn’t have to face their anger. Luckily, traffic was light, and the ride to the airport went quickly.

After boarding the plane, I went right to the back to avoid everyone. It was easier this way. If I didn’t have to talk to anyone, then I couldn’t be a prick.

To my surprise, Catherine followed me and sat down beside me.

“Hey,” she whispered. “How’s the hand?”

“It’s fine” I shrugged.

“Will it interfere with your playing?”

“No, I missed my fingers. I should be fine if I keep it covered.”

“That’s good,” she added.

“Yeah, I guess…” I had no idea what to say to her. I knew what I wanted to say to her. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to tell her that I really wasn’t such a fuckin’ bullheaded prick. I wanted to ask her to fuckin’ help me escape this hellish existence. But all those words were pointless. She’d still be looking at me with pity in her eyes. She’d still look at me like a fuckin’ puppy dog she felt sorry for. I didn’t want that. I wanted her to look at me like I was a fuckin’ man. The way she had yesterday, and the day before that. Before I’d fucked everything up beyond belief.

“Can we talk? Somewhere more private?” she asked. I knew I’d confused her. I knew I’d hurt her. But I’d pulled away to save her from getting her heart broken. And yet, here she was looking at me like there was still some kind of hope for something between us.

“Maybe later,” I said, standing up and walking back to the bedroom of the plane. I couldn’t bear looking at her. I couldn’t handle seeing what I’d done to her reflected in her eyes. I already knew what a selfish prick I was, I didn’t need to look in the mirror.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said to my back.

I closed the door without meeting her eyes.

A
deep sigh
escaped my lips as I watched Liam close the door, shutting himself off from everyone once again. I had no idea what he was going through, but it was heavy. It hurt to see the way everyone shunned him, but I didn’t blame them. Hell, I’d only been hanging around a few days, and it was too much to take. I couldn’t imagine what they went through if he was like this all the time.

I looked around at the others, and they were all lost in their own thoughts. Rocket was staring at his phone, Rhys and Slade were in a corner looking out the window. Ian and Rhone were snuggled up together and talking quietly. None of them had said much to me at all, and I felt like a huge outsider today. They were probably all wondering if I was going to write about last night’s antics in my story.

Hell, I was wondering the same thing.

At this point, I was so confused, I had no idea what to write. But our flight today was almost two hours, so I figured now was just as good a time as any to start. I pulled out my laptop, hoping the words would come.

I checked my email before I got started, and saw there was a message from my assistant, Lydia.

“Catherine, I’ve begun verifying the information you sent me about The Lennon Foundation’s charity contributions. I’ve called three of the recipients on the list, and the amounts aren’t matching up. According to them, The Lennon Foundation has only donated $500 to each of them, not the millions listed. It’s a large discrepancy, so I thought I’d give you a heads-up right away. I will check the rest and get back to you.”

“Let me know right away,”
I replied, staring out at the clouds we’d ascended above.

That is so weird
, I thought,
there must be some mistake.
I contemplated if I should tell Liam or Ian right away, but since the tension was so thick in the air you could cut in with a knife, I decided to keep my mouth shut until I knew more. Callum probably just sent me the wrong information.

I opened a blank word document and stared at the blinking cursor. Where should I start? What words could ever be accurate enough to describe Liam? I started typing, hoping something would work.

“Liam Mercury is abrasive, arrogant, and stubborn…”…No, that’s not right.

“Charismatic, confident and cocky, Liam Mercury has all the characteristics of your typical rock star…” No, that’s awful, too.

“His cock is even bigger than you’d imagine. When it slides into you, his skillful strokes will make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven…” I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I remembered the feel of Liam on top of me, moving inside of me, his magical cock putting me under its spell.

I slammed the laptop closed. Maybe later I’d be more inspired.

Although the thought of his cock was very inspiring, I was writing for Rolling Stone, not the Penthouse Forums.

I looked out the window again, and let my thoughts drift away, my mind and body both remembering how it’d felt to have Liam’s hands on me. I wasn’t sure what happened to make him pull away. I wasn’t sure if it would ever happen again.

But I was sure I would never forget it.

***

T
he show
in San Francisco went off without a hitch. No violent outbursts. No changed lyrics. No surprising kisses after the show, either. Just a lot of people left loving them even more and wanting them to go on all night long.

Just as well
, I thought, as I watched Liam leave the stage and head towards his dressing room.

Rhone and I walked together back to the dressing rooms.

“How’s the story going?” she asked.

“It’s not,” I replied, with a sigh. “Things kind of went awry, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Liam is a hard nut to crack,” she replied. “You got closer than most women do.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“Yeah, I understand. It’s a compliment, though. I can tell he cares about you, Catherine. Maybe that’s the problem. He doesn’t usually let people under his skin.”

“I was beginning to think he did, but his behavior the last twenty-four hours begs to differ.”

“Hang in there. Maybe he’ll come around. He’s a moody bastard, just like his brother.”

“How do you live like this?” I asked.

“You get to used to it,” she replied, with a smile. “It’s not so bad. After awhile, the fights don’t faze you. They fight all the time, but they make up just as quickly. They’ve been like this all their lives. And I guess the other bandmates have gotten used to it over the years, too. Although, I’ve never seen Liam hit anyone, so that was a surprise last night.”

“I have no idea why he did that,” I replied. “Did he tell Ian?”

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“No…”

“He did it because he was jealous. He saw Rocket touch you, he was drunk, and he freaked out.”

“Oh, god. Because of me? I feel awful,” I replied, my stomach sinking.

“Don’t. Rocket can take it. Liam’s hand got the worst of it anyway. And you should take it as a compliment. I’ve seen Rocket and Liam pass women around like a joint. Liam never gets jealous. His reaction last night means he really likes you.”

“Lovely,” I replied, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Next he’ll be pulling my hair.”

I blushed as I said that, remember he already had.

***

B
ack at the hotel
, the party was a little more subdued than the night before. Liam was nowhere in sight, however. I wandered through the suite looking for him, and then decided to go to his room. I couldn’t take the silence anymore.

When he opened the door, he was fresh out of the shower. His hair was wet, and he wore nothing but boxers. I suppressed a groan and smiled.

“Hey, can we talk?” I asked. He nodded and gestured for me to come inside.

I sat down on his bed, and looked up at him.

Fuck, I wish he wasn’t naked. My heart beat wildly as he towered over me.

“Not coming to the party tonight?” I asked.

“Nah. I figure I did enough damage last night.”

“How’s your hand?”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his bandaged hand. My eyes trailed along his forearm and up to his bicep, watching as the muscles flexed under his smooth skin. Long, wet locks of hair dripped small beads of water onto his toned shoulders, and I bit my lip, trying to push away the image of licking them off.

“How it going?” he asked, sitting next to me. Waves of heat washed over me and I crossed my legs.

“Going?” I asked.

“The story? I’m surprised you’re still here. Haven’t you seen enough?” he asked.

“Ian, what’s going on?” I asked, wanting desperately to cut through the bullshit. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

“You? What could you have done?”

“Well, then I don’t understand. Everything was going so well. We were having so much fun.” God, I hated the way I sounded. Even more, I hated games and the silent treatment, and this was the only way I could see to get through that.

“Is that what it was?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“It was just fun?”

“I - well - yeah, it was fun. Wasn’t it?”

“Sure, luv, it was fun,” he replied, looking away. I couldn’t read him. I wanted to. I wished I could get in his head and listen to everything he wasn’t saying.

“It was more than fun,” I whispered. He wouldn’t look at me now. “I don’t know what it was, Liam. And I don’t know what happened, but I thought maybe we were headed somewhere. Maybe that sounds crazy,” I said, standing up in front of him, my voice shaking. I desperately wanted him to look at me, I needed to see his eyes, his reaction to my words. “I know who you are. I see what your life is like. I didn’t have any illusion, Liam. But I let you in, and I thought, maybe just maybe there was a tiny sliver of a chance that it could go somewhere.”

His eyes flashed up to mine and then looked away again.

“You think you hurt me, but you didn’t,” I said, willing my voice to steady. “You think you can pretend what happened between us doesn’t mean anything to you. But I know better. Maybe you don’t know how to handle it, or maybe you just don’t believe in it. Maybe I’m crazy, and it wouldn’t work at all. But we’ll never know if we don’t try.”

“Why would you want to be with a man like me, luv? You see what an arrogant prick I am. You deserve better,” he said, his eyes crashing into mine, churning with all the confusion and pain I’d expected to see, for once not masked by his blanket of bravado.

“Because I’ve seen something else, Liam. Yeah, you’re full of yourself. Yeah, you think you have the greatest cock on Earth. But you’re more than that. You put all your needs to the side, just to keep the show going. You’re taking care of all the people around you, making sure families are fed, and that people have jobs, even though you desperately need to take a long vacation. You endure the toll it takes on you, physically and mentally, and then blame yourself when you collapse under all the pressure. You’ve given up having a family, or ever getting close to anyone, because you’re constantly moving. You’re not a bad guy, Liam.”

“You think you have me all figured out, don’t you, luv?”

“No,” I whispered. “Not entirely. But I think I’m beginning to.”

“Most people don’t take the time to look,” he said, his blue eyes softening, thoughtful, as he stood up from the bed, his tall frame towering over me again. “Most people only see what they want to see.”

“I’m not most people,” I whispered, staring up at him.

“No, luv, you aren’t,” he said. He reached up and his warm hand caressed my cheek. “And thank the Queen for that.” I smiled, melting into his touch.

“You’re right about everything. I don't know what any of this means, but maybe we can figure it out together?”

“That sounds like a good plan,” I replied, my heart soaring.

“Can you ever forgive me for being such an ass?” he asked.

“You’re already forgiven,” I replied.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Catherine,” he whispered, as he ran his thumb over my quivering lip. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot, but I promise I’ll try really bloody hard not to be again.”

“Deal,” I whispered, his kiss silencing me. It was so gentle, so slow, so soft, that it almost hurt, his strong arms pulling me in close.

We fell back on the bed, and within moments, my dress was pushed away and I was naked beneath him as he pulled off his boxers. He pulled himself back on top of me, his body sliding along mine deliciously, his lips finding mine again, our bodies seeking the closeness once more. He slid into me smoothly, his hips rocking against me slowly, sensually, my limbs trembling with desire as I savored every sweet inch of his hardness. His arms wrapped around me, his body clinging to mine as he thrust into me with wild abandon, our souls melting into each other, searching for the bliss together and finding the electric connection that I knew I’d never be able to walk away from.

My name escaped from his lips as he came, as I pulsed around him, my body quivering with love and lust and desire and happiness all at the same time.

The three words I longed to say lingered on my tongue, but I kept them silent. We needed to take this slowly, no matter how fast my heart was trying to race to the finish line.