You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (17 page)

His back arched, and his hips lifted. “Fuck, Emmie.” Gripping her hands, he pushed them away. He couldn’t take it. Had to see her. Needed her. All of her.

Unzipping the back of her dress, he peeled the straps off her wet shoulders, and his mouth closed over that smooth, soft skin. He turned into her neck, breathing her in, licking the shell of her ear. She shuddered. Her hands skimmed under his shirt, and her mouth found its way back to his.

Holy shit, she set him on fire. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his jeans, but she couldn’t gain traction. They were too frantic, their hips rocking hard, grinding . . . too much, too fast.

“Christ,” he cried out. His dick ached with need and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted her, ripped open the buttons, and jerked his jeans and boxers down his hips. Immediately, her sweet hand closed around him. His hips bucked so hard he nearly knocked her off his lap. But his girl just laughed softly at his mouth and reclaimed her grip on him. She held him firmly, her thumb tracing the vein underneath, circling the head.

“I can’t . . . Emmie, shit . . .” He tore her hand away, grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans, and sheathed himself. Pushing aside her panties, he guided himself into her wet heat.

“Oh,” she breathed into his ear, as he brought her down on him.

Holy mother of God. Slick heat gloved him, gripped him, and sensation exploded on his skin, rippling across his body. She moaned, sinking down on him, barely moving, like she was just getting the feel of him inside her. He wanted—oh, God, he needed to move—but those moans she made, the look of pure bliss, made him hold back. His hips made tight, rhythmic thrusts, as she ground down on him with a deeply satisfied sigh, taking him fully and completely inside of her.

And then she started moving, hips rocking. Her fingers curled into his shoulders, her head tilted forward, her wet hair dripped onto his chest, and her lips parted.

She was moaning, sighing, making the sexiest fucking sounds he’d ever heard in his life. He was going to come, but he didn’t . . . he needed . . . ah, Christ. Not yet. Jesus, not fucking yet. Too good. Too— “Ah,” he cried out as she ground down on him, hips circling, rocking at an angle that, from her gasps, meant she’d hit her sweet spot.

His fingers left her hips to unclasp her bra, peel it off her, and release those beautiful, bouncing breasts. All the air caught in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. Little white lights sparked across his vision, the pleasure so intense he thought he might pass out. He’d waited so long to fill his hands with her lushness that when he did, he nearly came from their softness, their fullness, and the erotic jolt of pleasure that came from the feel of her hard nipples in his palms. He flicked his thumbs over the hard beads, and she arched into him, head tipping back, all that hair spilling off her shoulders and onto his lap.

Jesus, look at her, so wanton, so purely sexual.
His girl.
Mine
.

She was so goddamn slick, so tight, so hot. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t quite catch his rhythm. He wanted too much of her too fast. She tilted forward, her hands gripping the seat behind him, and she rode him like she was out of her mind with lust, with need, like her relief was close, so fucking close, but just not hitting. Oh, holy hell, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He gripped her hips, slid lower on the seat, and pistonned up into her. His mouth closed over her nipple, taking a hard, hungry pull.

“Oh, God,” she gasped. “Oh, God, oh, my God.” And then she held her breath, her features frozen in shock. Her eyelids fluttered closed as her back arched with her release.

He was out of his mind, desperate. He rammed up into her, thrusting hard and relentlessly. The tension wound him up so high he had to shut his eyes and just fucking let go before he lost his mind. His body coiled tightly, like the ocean drawing back before surging forward in a monstrous wave, and then he felt the roar of it through him as he came violently. His shouts reverberated throughout the car.

He rocked up into her a few more times, but Jesus, he was so fucking exhausted. His head fell back, and she collapsed against him.

Completely depleted, he couldn’t move. Just sat there listening to the rain pummel the roof of his car, feeling the sweet weight of her body on his.

It hadn’t been perfect. It’d been frantic and rushed and awkward, but it had finally happened.

When his senses returned, he realized he was missing sound check.
Hell.
“Come on, Em. Get dressed.” He held her shoulders, pushing her back off his chest. “I’ve got to get to the club.”

She got off him, covering her breasts with her arms. That was it? He was dismissing her? Oh, God, she
knew
this would happen. How had she let herself get so carried away?

Popping the lid off an old fast food soda cup, he tossed the condom inside. Then, holding on to her thigh, he reached down for her bra and handed it to her. She wouldn’t look at him. Turning away, she quickly put on her bra, but her hands shook too badly to clasp it.

She stiffened when she felt his warm hands touching her back, fitting the hooks. Nothing came out of her mouth, no thanks, no . . . nothing. She couldn’t believe he’d just push her off him. Tell her it was time to go. Of course she understood he had to get to the club. Piper Lee was coming to see them. But if he cared for her, if the sex had meant to him what it’d meant to her, he’d take a moment to just hold her. She was still shaking, for crying out loud.

Lifting the bodice of the dress, she drew her arms through the straps. Again, his hands were there to zip her up. Not passionate hands, not a lover’s hands. Just hurried hands.

Within seconds, he’d buttoned his shirt, pulled up his wet jeans. And then he sat there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the seat.

He wanted out. She
knew
it. Why had she given in? Why had she let him literally charm her dress off? She was the one girl who hadn’t thrown herself at him, so he’d been intrigued. He reached for her, patting her leg. But she jerked away. “Ready.” At least her voice sounded strong, true. She climbed over the seat and buckled herself in.

He got out of the car and came around to the driver’s side. Within minutes they were on the boulevard, heading for the club in downtown Austin. She wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t give him anything at all. She stared dully out the window. The rain came down in sheets so thick she couldn’t see anything but a blur of color.

Her heart ached. She’d believed him. Well, that wasn’t true. She hadn’t entirely given herself over to him. Doubt had weighed firmly in her heart. But she’d . . . hoped. He’d sounded so convincing.

Bitterness made her feel ugly, cheap, and she didn’t like it at all. She drew in a breath. She had to table the internal conversation for later, when she didn’t feel so shattered.

His hand reached out, closed over hers. If she withdrew it, he’d say all kinds of things charmers said to smooth over an awkward moment. So, she let him pretend. He pulled her hand onto his lap, pressing it to his thigh.

She turned to look at him, curious about the current of energy running under his skin. From the exertion? He looked intense. Of course, the hazardous driving conditions would make anyone stressed out. But he looked wrecked. What did that mean?

She pulled her hand away, not wanting any connection to him at the moment.

*   *   *

He parked at the back of the club, by the band’s van. She made sure to open her door before he could get to her, hoping to dash inside so she could avoid him completely. But he was too fast.

He blocked her from getting out of the car. Leaning in close, he rested his hands on her thighs—high up on them, high enough to send her pulse skittering. His mouth brushed against her ear, and she had no strength whatsoever to push him away.

“Don’t mistake my quiet for regret. That was . . .” He released a shaky exhalation. “Intense.” He cupped her face in his hands, forced her to look at him. “Okay?”

Stupid girl that she was, she melted right there. She did believe him. The energy coursing through him? The rasp in his voice? Come on, he was affected, too. He just handled it differently. She could give him that.

He kissed her mouth. “I have to get in there.”

Of course he did. He had to shift all his focus to tonight’s performance. Not think about
them
. He took her hand. As she climbed out of the car, he shut the door behind her, and they dashed to the back entrance.

The door flew open, and she yanked her hand out of his. It was just a kitchen worker dumping a box into the Dumpster. Not anyone they knew, thank God.

“What the fuck was that?” His voice startled her, and she turned to find him standing there, a wall of hard muscle and bad attitude.

“What?” She wanted to get out of the rain, but he clearly wasn’t budging.

He stood there with all that intensity. “You don’t want them to know about us?”

“Of course not. It . . .” She gestured to the car. “God, it just happened.”

“It’s been happening for a long time. We just sealed the deal.”

“We’re not walking in there like a couple.”

“Like a couple? We
are
a couple.” He took her hands in his, brought them to his chest, looking like he was trying to calm down. “I can’t do this right now. I’m supposed to be onstage in a few minutes. I’ve missed sound check.” He pulled her under the gutter, which gave slight relief from the rain. “Em. We’re . . . Come
on
, it’s us.”

She gazed into those determined eyes, saw nothing but certainty, and then something else took over as his features softened into desire. He kissed her. Oh, did he kiss her, pressing his hips into her, cupping her bottom in his big, strong hands. His tongue teased hers into play, and she sighed into his mouth.

“Yes?” he said again, lips pressed over hers.

“Oh, yes.”

He reached for her hand and started to go into the club.

Oh, he was good. She gently pulled her hand out. “Not tonight.”

He gave her a hard look. “I’m not lying to my friends. I’m not sneaking around.”

“I know.” She didn’t know anything. She hadn’t even thought about it. “But tonight it’s about Piper Lee. We can’t have any distractions.”

“Then you shouldn’t have fucked me in the back of my car.” His wicked smile, his husky voice, made desire spill through her all over again.

“God, Slater.” She practically climbed him, hitching a leg over his hip, gripping the hair at the back of his neck, and kissed him with all her heart and soul.

She could feel him flare up, feel him harden, and she couldn’t help but rub him through his jeans. He groaned into her mouth. “Okay, stop, stop, stop.” He set her back from him. “Fuck.”

They laughed, foreheads touching, rain splattering her legs. “All right. I have to go in. But thank you for pumping me up.”

“Great. I’ve primed you. Now you’re ready to make love to your screaming fans.”

Fingers closing around the doorknob, he stopped, turned to her. The look in his eye told her not to make light of what they’d just done.

He’d taken it very seriously.

And, God, what was she supposed to do with
that
?

*   *   *

Emmie leaned against the wall. No empty seats tonight. She’d made sure of that by getting the club to agree to one free drink for every customer until nine o’clock. Had to have a full house with Piper watching.

She had to stop thinking about Slater. Slater and sex. But, oh, that was some sex they’d had. She’d never let herself go like that. She’d actually lost her mind. Moments came flying back at her, the awkward ones when he’d almost slipped out of her, when their arms had collided in their haste to touch each other everywhere. He had seemed completely into her. A guy couldn’t pretend like that.

It was when he’d held her breasts in his big hands, when he’d taken her nipple into his mouth, that everything had just clicked into place. Everything had turned into
them
. Not sex, not awkwardness, just total, crackling
connection
. Mind-body fusion. She’d come so suddenly, so explosively, her brain had shorted out.

She’d never felt anything like that before.

The sound died down in the room, drawing Emmie’s attention to the band. Slater picked up his guitar and adjusted the mic. The stage went dark, a spotlight lit him up, and oh, God, she could hear the collective intake of breath at his beauty, his dynamic presence. He didn’t even try to charm the crowd, didn’t say a word. Just launched right into a song.

Look at me,

I want to see your heart race,

See your mouth fall open,

Watch your hair spill down your back,

And pool on my thighs

Look at me,

So I know you’re in it with me,

Opening up to me,

Falling as hard as I am

I want you to look at me, look at me, look at me

I want you and only you

I want you to come and come and come

You.

He was singing about her. About what they’d just done. Her heart filled to bursting with emotion, and her throat knotted painfully. It was too much for one night. Too intense. She watched his face as he sang, so fierce, so utterly sincere.

Good God, the man knew how to woo a girl.

Right then, Piper Lee entered the club. Just as Emmie could have predicted, the diva came with an entourage that surrounded her. The manager approached the hostess stand, and Piper’s chin lifted, her gaze narrowing to the stage.

This was the moment, wasn’t it? The moment Emmie’d so carefully orchestrated, when Slater and Piper found each other. Her heart twisted hard, and she thought she’d remember this moment as long as she lived. There was something feral about Piper’s expression, the hunter sighting its prey. Her long, lanky body pushed through her entourage, moved closer to the stage. Bodies parted for her, not even knowing who she was—but knowing she was definitely
somebody.
She just had that aura about her. One of her people pointed toward the reserved table, and someone else pulled out Piper’s chair. She sat down, never once taking her eyes off Slater.

As if he felt the pull, he looked right at Piper, and he gave her his most devastating grin, as if to tell her exactly what he was going to do to her the moment he got her alone.

Satisfaction shone on Piper’s features. Her whole body seemed to inflate with it. Like she
knew
.

Emmie’d had enough. She headed outside, right back into the downpour. Protected from the deluge by the club’s awning, she still felt the spray as sheets of rain hit the pavement and sprung back up, dousing her. Tires spun through puddles, shooting out giant waves that drenched the sidewalk.
Breathe, Emmie, breathe
.

Piper was even more gorgeous in person. All that long dark hair, straight and shiny. Her kohl-rimmed eyes, her slender figure. The way she moved—like she’d just had sex, was just about to have sex, could only ever think about having sex. She was the female version of Slater.

They fit perfectly together.

They would lounge in bed all day, party all night. They’d huddle together, sharing private jokes—because only musicians could truly understand each other, of course. Tortured souls finding each other.

Why should Emmie be so upset? She’d brought them together. She’d known in her gut it was a perfect match. She’d had no business sleeping with Slater anyhow.

God, it wasn’t like she had a future with him. A guy like Slater would get bored with one woman. He’d want more. He’d always be on the prowl, nothing satisfying him. Even Piper wouldn’t satisfy him. Neither one could take intimacy for long, so they’d go their separate ways but then come back together, because nothing would ever feel as right as the two of them together.

Emmie dropped her head in her hands. She was totally making this stuff up. She really
should
be a writer. Maybe she’d write about Piper and Slater.

Ha
.
No, thanks
. She’d stick to her
Rolling Stone
articles. Those didn’t make her physically ill to contemplate.

Her mind cleared, and she shoved her insecurities aside. She had no idea what Slater would think of Piper. Emmie only knew what she and Slater had together. She had him tonight, so she would enjoy him. Because . . .
why not?
She’d never experienced these feelings before. Maybe she never would again.

Smiling to herself, she recalled her list. She’d wanted to lose herself. She’d wanted a wild, uninhibited sexual encounter. Well, she’d gotten it.

And with Slater Fucking Vaughan.

*   *   *

The moment the set ended, Emmie got up from the table. “I’ll go get them for you,” she said to Piper and her entourage.

“That’s okay.” Piper’s lithe form rose out of the chair. “I’ve got it from here.”

Those simple words made the blood wail like a siren in Emmie’s ears. Like she could even compete with this woman? No doubt, Piper would choose Snatch to open for her. That meant she’d be around Slater every day—and night. And where would Emmie be?

Where
would
Emmie be?

Piper graced Emmie with a beatific smile. “I’m so glad you brought me this band, Emily. We’re going to be brilliant together.”

Emily
. Yeah, yeah. She’d been around dozens of catty artists just like Piper. She didn’t let it get to her. Piper slinked through the packed crowd, never taking her gaze off Slater.

Slater. He played his role perfectly, shaking hands, signing autographs, listening to excited fans. But he seemed impatient. Normally, he lived in the moment, and the fans loved that about him. Tonight, he looked like he had somewhere to be.

And then Piper appeared before him, and her demeanor changed. She’d been quiet at the table, eerily focused. Not now. Her beautiful face lit up, as she tossed the long hair off her shoulders, arched her chest toward him.

Nice body language.
Could she be more obvious?

Slater smiled, shook her hand, but she pushed his hand aside and hugged him—two soul mates dispensing with formalities. And right then, the moment his arms wrapped around Piper’s back, his gaze zeroed in on Emmie’s.

He didn’t smile. His gaze turned hot, filled with carnal intentions. Just like he’d looked at her outside the restaurant as he’d come at her with pure lust in his eyes. And then he pulled away from Piper, all smiles and sexy charm again. He continued talking to Piper, appearing interested, as he led her back to the table, his gaze fixed on Emmie the whole time.

Her body burned for him. Her heart pounded furiously, painfully. If he didn’t stop looking at her like that, her knees would give out, and she’d be a puddle of molten desire. She licked her dry lips, forcing herself to pull in a breath. Holy mother of God did she want this man.