ROCK HARD (A BRITISH ROCKSTAR BAD BOY ROMANCE) (2 page)

T
he shrill ringing
seemed to go on forever. White-hot shards of pain shot through my head as consciousness washed over me. I pulled a pillow over my head, hoping to block out the pain, the sound, and the piercing light that was slicing through my peaceful revelry. The smell of sex and booze permeated the air and I felt warm bodies stirring beside me.

And that incessant fuckin’ ringing that wouldn’t quit.

What the fuck was that?

I pushed at the body beside me. “Make it stop,” I muttered.

“It’s your phone,” a woman’s sleepy voice replied.

“Fuck it,” I said, ignoring it and willing my body back to sleep. Warm limbs wrapped themselves around my hips, and the unmistakeable softness of breasts pushed against my chest. My cock stirred.

“Fuck!” I hissed. I was hoping for more sleep, but there was no ignoring my raging cock in the morning. Hell, there was no ignoring it ever. The bloody ringing stopped, thankfully. Warm fingers wrapped around the base of my cock, and I groaned, turning to my side and pulling her closer. She rolled over on her back, and I lay on top of her, opening my eyes for the first time and looking down at her.

A blonde this time. One of the girls from last night. I reached over to the nightstand, pulling a condom free and sliding it down around my shaft. I was awake. No use wasting morning wood.

We both jumped when the
other
kind of pounding started.

“Liam, wake the fuck up!” My brother’s voice accompanied his sudden frenzied banging on the hotel room door. “We need to get on the road. Everyone’s waiting for ya!”

I pulled out of the blonde and strolled over to the door, opening it straight into Ian’s red, fuming face.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, take the fuckin’ condom off your knob and get these girls off the bloody fuckin’ bus, you fuckin’ twat!” he screamed.

“I’ll be there shortly, little brother,” I smirked, as I watched him storm away toward the driver. I loved pissing off Ian. Indeed, it was probably one of my greatest pleasures in life to get under his skin. It was right up there with fuckin’, and drinkin’, and of course, performing.

I walked back into the little room at the back of the bus with a smirk on my face.

“We’ll have to make this quick! My brother’s off his trolley!”

A
fter my first
, and very rude, encounter with Liam last night, I’d left the circus of Liam’s tour bus, and found a taxi to my hotel room. And now, here I was, smack dab in the middle of the circus again.

The band had quite the entourage. I’d met almost everyone by now, and while they were all very nice, except for the self-proclaimed bad boy of the bunch, they were also very self-absorbed. I was definitely an outsider.

Each band member had their own bus, as well as what appeared to be their own entourage. Everyone lingered around outside of the buses as they waited for Liam to appear.

The bus drivers had started the engines half an hour ago and they sat idling in a row waiting on Liam.

Rocket, who went by one name only he told me, was the drummer. He was skinny as a rail, with long blonde hair and sharp green eyes. He walked past me and after a quick introduction by Matt Reynolds, the tour manager I had met last night, he disappeared into his bus.

Matt was a huge guy, with short black hair and tiny eyes that were way too small for his face. He stood across from me on the sidewalk, constantly checking his phone.

Rhys, the bass player, and Slade, the guitar player, could have passed for twins. They had long black hair that hung in their faces and they stood quietly smoking and talking together. They were both wearing leather jackets, and neither of them looked like they had slept in days.

Ian Mercury walked up to me, accompanied by a beautiful woman with flowing black locks. I’d met Ian quickly last night, and while he was every bit as handsome as his brother, there was an air of restraint around him. He introduced his wife with exaggerated formality.

“Rhone, meet Catherine Donovan.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, shaking her hand. “I’m doing a story for the Rolling Stone.”

“Ian told me. Things can be kind of rough with the boys when they’re on tour,” she said, smiling at me. I’d already looked her up, so I knew she was one of the top supermodels for Yves St. Laurent. Tall, with legs that stretched for miles, her light brown eyes were filled with kindness. She was absolutely stunning. “Let me know if you need anything, or have any questions, okay?”

“That’s so nice of you, thank you,” I replied with a smile. It
was
nice to have another woman around.

“I’m going to kill that fuckin’ wanker if he doesn’t hurry up!” Ian exclaimed, pacing the sidewalk behind his wife. “Matt, you’re the one getting paid to make sure he’s ready to go on time. Why did I have to go wake his ass up?”

“I apologize, Mr. Mercury, I would’ve gone…”

“ — well, then do your bloody job next time, for fuck’s sake!”

“Yes, sir,” Matt replied, looking back down at his phone.

Waiting was not my strong suit, and I was feeling antsy, but Ian’s obvious frustration just made everything awkward.

My gaze traveled back to the bus, remembering the scene that had greeted me yesterday. If I’d known what was going on inside there, I’d never just walked in like that, but Matt had told me to just ‘go on in’. I should have known what to expect… Liam’s reputation preceded him.

I felt completely uncomfortable going back in there alone, so I stayed out on the sidewalk and waited until a freshly showered Liam walked up, his wet stringy hair somehow serving to make him look even sexier. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans and a white linen unbuttoned shirt, his muscular, tattooed chest on display once again. A thin, dark line of hair ran down from his navel, disappearing into a pair of faded Levi’s.

Big D, the band’s bodyguard, stood next to him. He was one of the biggest, scariest men I’d ever seen and the scowl on his face was intimidating.

“It’s about fucking time!” Ian sneered at him.

“Piss off!” Liam spat back. “I’m bloody here now. If you keep naggin’ at me, I’ll fuckin’ go back to bed.”

“We’re all so sick of your shit, Liam.”

“Yeah? Well fuckin’ quit then, what the fuck do I care? None of you blokes would even be here if it wasn’t for me.”

“You’re the most arrogant prick I’ve ever known!” Ian said.

“And the most brilliant, Ian, don’t forget that,” he said teasingly. “Now can we get this show on the road?”

He looked over at me and winked as he pushed past everyone and boarded the bus again. Big D followed. My eyes met Ian’s and he shook his head in frustration. I shrugged and slowly walked onto Liam’s bus.

Here we go
…

As I walked in, his eyes met mine briefly and he looked away just as fast. This was not going to be easy, I suspected.

I sat across from him, and met his gaze.

“Good morning to you, sweet tits,” Liam said, with a little wave of his hand.

“Catherine,” I said. If we were going to get anywhere, I couldn’t deal with being called ‘sweet tits’ the whole time.

“Catherine,” he said, my name rolling over his tongue slowly. “That’s right…” He raked his gaze over my body, his head tilted as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “Catherine, from Rolling Stone.”

“Yes,” I replied curtly. “As I mentioned last night, I’m here for a week.”

“A lot can happen in a week, Catherine from Rolling Stone,” he said, winking again.

“A lot of that?” I asked, gesturing out to the sidewalk.

“What? My brother and I bicker every now and then. Are you going to write about that?” Liam asked.

“Maybe I’ll mention it. I don’t know what I’m going to write yet,” I replied. His gaze was intense. Penetrating, seductive and fiery, his eyes seemed to tear right through me. My breath quickened and I tried to calm my racing heart.

No wonder this guy is a star
, I thought to myself. He’s got those eyes, that fucking body, that charisma. There was something about him that made you yearn for more. I couldn’t stop looking at him. My eyes were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“It should be a fun week,” he replied, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’ll try to make sure it’s interesting for you.”

“I look forward to it,” I said.

“My brother’s constant raving makes him look like a lunatic,” he replied, dryly. “He’s jealous that I get all the attention.”

“And do you like that?” I asked.

“What? Getting all the attention?”

“Yes.”

“Well, luv, I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t enjoy attention,” he leaned towards me, lowering his voice. “Don’t you like attention?” he asked, his eyes grazing over my body again.

“Sure, who doesn’t?” I shot back.

He smiled, nodded in approval and sat back. He folded his arms across his chest, slowly looking me up and down again. I suppressed a smile.

“Well, then,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he smiled at me. “Looks like we have something in common already.”

“When can we talk, Mr. Mercury?” I asked, reminding myself to get back to business.

“Not now,” he replied, with a sigh. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. And we’ve got all week, right?”

“Yes, but I was hoping to finish early —,” I began.

“—Finish early? I don’t even know what that means!” he replied, bursting out laughing at his own joke.

“That’s not what I —,”

“—Don’t worry, love, there’s plenty of time,” he said, reaching over and putting his hand on my knee. The heat seared my skin and I pulled away quickly. He eyes shot up, looking at me curiously, before he shook his head and stood up. As he strolled to the back of the bus, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on his tight, jean-clad ass. A wave of hot desire wash over me.

This was going to be a long week.

C
atherine smelled like peaches
.

Her scent hit me as soon as she walked on the bus and it lingered long after I closed myself off in my bunk. She was fucking beautiful, that was for sure… But I sure as hell wished she wasn’t here. The last thing I needed was some fuckin’ reporter sniffing around and judging my every move. I’d forgotten all about her until I walked up and saw her standing there. The events of last night came flooding back, and I smiled.

So much for first impressions…

I was a bit of a wanker, I knew that. But this business had left me jaded. Everyone wanted something from me, everyone wanted to be close to me, everyone wanted what they thought I had. But what did I have, really?
Money?
Who cares? My life was easier before the fuckin’ money.
Women?
I had them when I was still busking for shillings on the streets of London.

That left Fame. Fuck that. If it wasn’t for fame, little miss reporter wouldn’t be out there trying to snatch a few juicy bits of knowledge to satisfy the vultures. They were never satisfied. They wanted to pour over every little detail of my goddamned life.

It was like my life wasn’t my own anymore. My private life was public. I left my emotions on the stage night after night, baring my soul for the money that kept this monstrosity of a rock machine running… And for what? There was nothing left for me. Hell, there wasn’t much left
of
me, for that matter.

It’s like I was some robot, mindlessly going through the paces every day. Wake up in a new hotel, a different city, get on the bus, drive to the next town, perform another show, get drunk, get laid, try to get some sleep, and wake up and do it all over again. It wasn’t fuckin’ glamorous, it was fuckin’ bloody exhausting, is what it was. That’s why so many of my friends were fuckin’ dead. They turned to the white stuff to keep moving. I wasn’t going to follow their example.

I chose this path, though. I was blessed, everyone said. I was living life to the fullest, riding on the edge everyday, living a life most could only dream of… I was adored by millions of people who didn’t really know me at all.

It was all a ruse. I couldn’t wait to leave America and get back home. I was completely out of place here, and it already seemed like the tour was crawling along at a snail’s pace.

Sure, I was talented, that was undeniable. I exploited my talents and gifts wildly, but what would the world be like if I hadn’t?

I shouldn’t complain, I know.

But sometimes, when I’m in the middle of it, on those days when I’ve partied way too much, or I have to listen to my brother rattle on and on about what an asshole I am, it makes it hard to count my blessings, because to be honest, the repetitiveness of the whole thing is a total bore.

On second thought, I was glad Catherine was here to shake things up a little. If my label thought I needed to have an in-depth expose´ done to prove my worthiness, well then I was sure going to give the beautiful Catherine something to write about.

But first, I had every intention of getting her naked. I’d seen that spark in her eyes. There was no hiding her interest…

She was just my type, and I wanted a good, long taste of her.

Because what’s work without a little fun thrown in?

I did mention how bloody bored I was, right?

W
hen we arrived
at TD Garden in Boston, a huge crowd had formed outside the parking garage. I couldn’t believe they were standing out in the heat like that, but when they saw the buses pull up, they went nuts - they were holding up posters and signs professing love to Ian and Liam, jumping up and down, and I think I saw a few girls crying.

Thankfully, the gate closed behind us, leaving them on the other side.

As we all poured out of the buses, the heat hit us with the blast of a hot oven. Quickly, we all went inside and were ushered down several long halls until we reached a cluster of dressing rooms that stood side by side. Each band member had their own room, with a big common room for everyone else. Everyone else meant me, Matt, and Big D and slew of other people that were milling around that I hadn’t met yet.

A large buffet was spread out along one wall and a bar was set up next to it. Matt and Big D began tearing into the buffet and helped themselves to drinks. I grabbed a bottle of water, and sat alone on a big couch. Matt sat down across from me, setting a heaping plate in his lap.

“Sorry about last night,” he said, in between bites.

“For what?” I asked.

“Liam. He’s kind of an asshole,” he said, with a shrug. I watched him shovel food into his mouth, his huge frame spread out on an adjacent couch.

“Isn’t he your boss?” I asked. I wasn’t too impressed with Matt at all. He’d hardly said a word the entire trip, and I was sure there was some important business he should be off taking care of now that we were here, instead of feeding his face.

“Technically,” he replied.

“How long have you been the tour manager?” I asked.

“Just a few weeks. The other guy left after Liam…,” he said, his words cutting off.

“Why did he leave?” I asked, looking away from him and trying to follow his gaze, landing on Liam and his sexy smirk.

“What are you doing, Matt? Don’t you have work to do?” Liam asked, walking over and towering over him.

“Well, yeah…” Matt hung his head and stood up, setting down his plate and shuffling out the door past Liam.

Liam sat next to me, his eyes flashing with mischief.

For fuck’s sake, he’s the sexiest fucking man I’ve ever seen.

Masculinity oozed off him, and I drank him in. Sure, I’d keep this professional, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the scenery.

“Don’t you have to get ready or something?” I asked. He was sitting awfully close. His hair had dried, leaving his black locks looking softer than mine. His long lashes were practically waving at me, and I pushed away a pang of jealousy. He was intense. If he had been
anyone
else, if he wasn’t such an arrogant bastard, and I wasn’t working, I’d have been doing my damnedest to seduce him.

Some people you meet are pure sex - every movement of his body screamed sensuality, his lips full and wide, his muscles rippling under his still open shirt.
For fuck’s sake
, I thought,
does he ever close it?
I hadn’t seen him without a bare chest since I arrived.

“All I have to do is strap on my guitar,” he replied. I shook my head in disbelief. “Sound check is in thirty minutes.”

“Sound check, right,” My voice cracked with desire. I cleared my throat, trying for professional again. “I was hoping we could spend some time together,” I said.

He moved closer, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“Now you’re talking, luv,” his arm snaked around my shoulder, and he began pulling me closer, bringing his mouth to mine, his breath searing my lips.

“Not like that!” I said, shoving a palm against his chest, right before his lips made contact. “That’s not what I meant.” I struggled to breathe. Why did he have this fucking effect on me? It was maddening. “I meant, I want to schedule a time we can sit down and talk, please.” My fingers lingered a little too long on his chest, and I pulled my hand away reluctantly.

He nodded, that crooked smile still spread across his distractingly handsome face.

“Right, luv. There’s an insane amount of time between our sound check and when the show starts. Meet me in my dressing room after sound check and we can do
whatever
you want.”

“Talk,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Talk. Of course.” He winked again and my stomach flipped.

“
S
o
, I think we got off on the wrong foot, Catherine,” Liam said, as he walked into his dressing room. He hair was even messier, but somehow it looked even better. A light sheen of sweat caressed his skin, and I found myself staring at it, yearning to touch my fingertip to his slick, bare chest again. “I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a gentleman.”

“You’re not really known for being a gentleman,” I said, wishing I could take it back as soon as the words flew from my mouth.

I was relieved when he broke out in laughter.

“Finally the truth!” he said, throwing his head back, his loud guffaw echoing in the room. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “You want one?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Mercury.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that bullshit. Please call me Liam.”

“Alright. Liam.”

“That’s better. So,” he said, sitting across from me and chugging on his beer. “What do you want to know,
Catherine
from Rolling Stone?”

“Well, I have many questions. When I write a story, I don’t force it. I let it build from the inside out. I’d like to get to know you better, so why don’t we start at the beginning?”

“The beginning? What - you mean like my childhood, or somethin’, luv?”

“Sure, that’s as good a place to start as any.”

“For fuck’s sake, can’t we talk about something more interestin’? My music or somethin’? Isn’t that what this is about? Selling records?”

“It is. And also saving your reputation, if it’s salvageable.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.

“You can’t be all bad, Liam,” I said, smiling over at him.

“There are hundreds who would disagree with you, darling,” he replied.

“Liam, think of it this way. You’ve got a clean slate with me. I’m here to observe and listen to whatever you share with me. No judgement. No preconceived notions. If you don’t want something included in the story, just say so. I’m not out to get you, I promise.”

“Well, that’s refreshing to hear, luv,” he said, winking at me. “But you can have me if you want.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I groaned.

His laughter, the mischievous gleam in his eye, the way he looked at me with such unrestrained hunger every time he flirted with me - none of these things were helping me stay professional.

However, they were definitely having an effect on me. I just wasn’t sure that was where I wanted this whole thing to go. I also wasn’t sure I would be able to resist him.

Time would tell, but at this point, I was beginning to see that most of my time was going to be spent putting my energy into keeping my hands off of him. Or, keeping his hands off me.

If I could do that, I’d be alright…

If…