You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (33 page)

“Then stop making decisions based on fear. Live the life you dream about, not the one you settle on because you’re too afraid to reach for more, and never, ever make me eat baby mush again.” He stood up, digging into his pocket and dropping a hundred dollar bill on the table, more than twice the bill, she was certain. “Shall we?”

*   *   *

The limo eased to the curb.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Bax said. And the Texas jokes began. Big hair, shitkicker boots, belt buckles . . . blah, blah, blah.

Emmie tuned it out. All her energy, all her thoughts were fixed on the man inside the club. The driver came around and opened the door. She slid out of the leather seat, her chest tight with excitement.

She’d never seen more cars parked outside the club before. Music pounded through the walls, a familiar song. “Get it, Boy.” She smiled, imagining Slater holding the mic, tendons in his neck straining, perspiration glistening on his skin. Bax opened the door to the club for her, and she entered.

The place was packed, standing room only, and the noise was deafening. She stepped aside so the guys could get in. They headed straight for the bar. Emmie skimmed the edge of the crowd, trying to get closer without drawing attention to herself. Not that he’d see her in this throng, but still. She wanted to watch him for a while, let him finish his set.

The crowd loved this song, with its hard-driving guitars and walloping drums. These guys were meant for stadiums. She knew they’d go all the way.

And Slater? God, his presence—no one in the club could take her eyes off him. Gorgeous, muscled, and radiating a command and stage presence that utterly captivated.

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the guys were as captivated as she expected. Every one of them stood transfixed, staring at Slater.

All of a sudden, the music stopped. She whipped around to find him jumping off the stage. The crowd lunged toward him, everyone wanting to lay hands on him, but he plowed through, his gaze trained on hers with an intensity that made her heart leap into her throat. Heat flooded her body.

How had he seen her? He couldn’t possibly—with the lights, the crowd, the way he concentrated up there. And yet, there he was, emerging from the throng, heading right toward her with a smile filled with pure happiness.

Oh, my God
. Jonny. Her Jonny. She could scarcely breathe. And then she was moving, picking up speed, her heart beating with the strength of great, powerful wings, and she took off, leaping into his arms. He caught her, holding her tightly to him. She was home.

“Emmie,” he whispered in her ear. “Oh,
fuck
.” Tremors rocked his body. “You came back.”

She turned her face into his neck, wanting to block out everyone, wanting him, only him. “I’m sorry, Jonny. I’m so sorry.” What had she been thinking to let this man go? She couldn’t hold him tightly enough—couldn’t believe she’d walked away from him, from her heart. It only made her squeeze him harder—and then harder again. She had him back in her arms—and fear seized her, literally had her in a chokehold, because she’d actually let this man go.

“You’re here now, Emmie. It’s all right. Everything’s all right.” His body trembled, head to toe, and it rattled her, what she’d done to them. But, God, she’d snapped out of it. She had him back.

The screech of reverb cut through the club. “Uh, Slater, dude?” Derek called out into the mic. “Think we could finish the set?”

The crowd erupted into shouts and whistles, but Slater ignored them, never taking his eyes off her.

“I love you,” she said, trembling. “I love you so much.”

He kissed her sweetly, chastely at first, but need roared through her. She could feel his body heating up. Her mouth opened to taste more of him, and then the tips of their tongues touched, and electricity shot through her. His mouth slanted, deepening the kiss, and his hands slid to her ass, squeezing, pulling her tighter against him. One hand held her in place while the other went under her knee, hitching her leg up, and he ground against her. He let out a shuddery breath in her ear. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

They kissed, oh, they kissed, and heat and love flooded her, filling all the aching spots. When his hand fisted in her skirt, hiking it up, she heard a familiar voice.

“Would now be a good time to speak with your fellow?”

Emmie’s mouth pulled away as she lowered her leg. Her hands cupped Slater’s jaw, her forehead pressed to his. She laughed, her body throbbing, little tremors pulsing through her. “Um, Jonny?” Her skin cooled a little, and she took a step back from him, to include Irwin and the others.

“Irwin,” Slater said warily, shaking hands firmly, his mouth still wet from their kiss. He reached for her, his arm wrapping around her waist. His eyes were glazed with lust, but she continued the introductions.

“And, of course, you remember Bax, James, and Connor. The Amoeba Records team.”

“Of course.” He shook their hands, still wary and hesitant.

“Good to see you, man,” Bax said.

Slater gave him a firm nod, then looked back to Emmie. “What’s going on?”

“Well, a couple of things. Irwin and I have been talking. He’d really like to sign you guys, but he wants to make sure you have a good manager.”

“The best, actually,” Irwin said with a big grin.

Slater focused on her. “You want to manage us?”

She nodded. “Would that be good?”

“Yes.” He
still
seemed wary. He turned to Irwin. “And you want to sign us?”

“I do.”

Slater cocked his head at her. “You want me to sign with a record label?”

She nodded.

“You want me to have all of it? Tours, gigs, records, rock videos . . . everything that comes with it?”

“Everything.”

“So, we can do this?”

“We can. We will.”

He kissed her full on the mouth. Then, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. He turned toward the executives. “Thanks, guys, for giving us this opportunity. I, uh, should probably finish my set. And then I need to spend a few minutes with my girl, but after that, I’d like to sit down with you.”

Irwin nodded. “Take your time. Your girlfriend here has cleansed me to the point where I squeak when I move. Must grease the gears.” He turned to the guys. “Shall we?” And they headed back to the bar.

“Dude?” Derek called into the mic. The crowd started clapping, stomping.

“One second.” The noise of the crowd drowned his voice, so he held up a finger. He drew Emmie in close, shutting out the rest of the world. “I love you, Emmie. Thanks for taking the leap. You won’t be sorry.”

*   *   *

With Ben in his bunk talking to Tiana on his cell phone, and Cooper and Pete thrashing around on the couch and shouting at each other as they played some violent video game, Emmie found herself wandering around the bus. Even though the driver handled cleanup, Emmie couldn’t stand the filth that accumulated in the small kitchen. She dumped all the beer bottles in the recycling bin.

“Hey,” Cooper called, not taking his eyes off the TV screen. “I’m not finished with that.”

“I only threw away the empty ones.” As she dumped last night’s take-out containers into the garbage bin, she noticed the empty can of chocolate fudge frosting. Heat rushed up her neck, burning to the tips of her ears as she recalled how she and Slater had used it the night before. Her nipples tingled at the reminder of how he’d licked them clean. And then she smiled because he truly had become the frosting in her life—all good things to her and for her.

Glancing at the clock, she wondered how it was going with his mom. He and Derek had stayed after the show for the interviews and press she’d set up. Afterward, they’d taken Elizabeth to the hotel, and Emmie assumed they’d stay to have a drink. Flying her out here for the tribute song to his dad had meant a lot to Elizabeth, and Emmie figured they’d want to reminisce.

She missed him. Even though they spent most of every day together—her writing articles and taking care of band business, him writing songs—she always missed him when they were apart.

Nothing left to clean, she sank down on the couch, drawing her knees to her chest and gazing out the window. It was dark, so she saw only her own reflection. What a difference a few months made. She loved her life. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.

She picked up the book she’d been trying to read, but couldn’t concentrate because she knew he’d be home any minute. He had to, since the bus was leaving at midnight to reach Pittsburgh in the morning.

Tires crunching over gravel alerted her, and while her body lit up, she remained placid on the outside. She tried hard not to make the other guys uncomfortable, limiting public displays of affection as much as possible. With Slater that wasn’t possible nearly as much as she’d have liked. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He just wanted his hands on her.

Car doors slammed, and her heart pounded at the sound of his voice. She pulled her legs in tighter, trying to contain the buzz of anticipation running along her limbs. Her man. God, she loved him.

And then he appeared, his dark hair a little longer now, more relaxed, and shiny-clean from the shower he’d taken after the show. His gaze landed on her the moment he hit the landing. He looked hungry, intense. Desire washed through her in a slow burn.

“How’d it go, man?” Cooper asked the guys.

“Great.” Derek rubbed his hand over his buzz cut. “I think we might get the cover of
Rolling Stone
.”

“Are you kidding me?” She couldn’t believe it. What a coup.

Pete stuttered out a laugh. “Fuckin’ A.”

“Yeah.” Derek looked to Emmie, shaking his head. “You are gold.”

“Hey, I had nothing to do with scoring a cover.”

“No,” Derek said. “But you’re the one who suggested the article to them.”

She’d pitched the article on breakout bands mostly to promote Blue Fire—a marketing tactic Slater had much preferred over fake romances. And if they got a cover out of it . . . bonus. She didn’t need to point out that they wouldn’t have had a shot at the cover if they hadn’t changed the band’s name.

“I tell you,” Derek said. “A cover sure as hell wasn’t on the menu, but they took one look at GQ over here, and I guess he’s the best looking of anyone in the breakout bands they’re featuring.”

She smiled at Slater, but his gaze remained intensely focused on her, muscles strung tight, ready to pounce. If it were up to him, they’d be alone already.

“Dude, grab me a beer,” Derek asked Slater.

Slater, coiled and moving like a panther, pulled open the fridge and tossed a cold one to Derek then handed a water bottle to Emmie.

Cooper spun around, arm shooting out as he pointed to them. “Four minutes.”

Derek scowled. “Didn’t count. He didn’t touch her.”

“Totally counts,” Cooper said. “Their fingers touched.”

“Nope,” Derek said. “I watched. No contact.”

“What are you talking about?” She finally looked away from Slater, who’d sat down on the couch across the aisle from her.

Pete motioned to the white board they’d hung on the wall over the couch. “Longest he’s made it before touching you is seven minutes.”

“What?” She noticed the number seven in the far right corner. Flecks of various colors around it told her the number had been corrected many times. “You time how soon before he touches me?”

The three guys burst out laughing.

“We’re trying to be discreet, you idiots.” She stretched out her legs. “We don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Slater sprang. He scooped her off the couch and into his arms. “Good. No more games.”

“It’s not a game.” She latched onto his neck as he lifted her off the couch and then turned to carry her down the narrow corridor. “I was trying to be nice,” she called to the guys. “For your sake.”

“What do we care?” Pete said.

“Like we can’t hear you?” Cooper said.

Mortified, she tucked her head into Slater’s neck. “They can hear us?”

“You’re right there,” Cooper shouted. “And you’re not exactly quiet.”

“I am so quiet,” she shouted over Slater’s shoulder.

“No, you’re not,” Slater said, and she tugged his hair. “Hey, I don’t want you to be. What did you think they thought we were doing in here?” He kicked open the door and gently set her on her feet.

“Five minutes, by the way,” Pete shouted.

“Disgusting,” Derek said.

Slater closed the door to their small bedroom. The guys slept in the four bunks that lined the hallway just beyond the kitchen. So, yeah, she guessed they could hear.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

Slater threw off his black T-shirt, and her pulse quickened at the sight of his gorgeous chest, the cut lines of his muscles, his taut stomach, and oh, the tip of that sexy tattoo. He unbuttoned his jeans, shrugging them off and then kicking them aside.

“You’re still dressed.” He reached behind her to unzip her sundress, quickly flicking off the straps and letting it fall to the floor. He took her hand so she could step out of it.

He cupped her breasts in the bra, lowering his face into the mounds of flesh, licking her cleavage and dipping one cup so he could tease her nipple with his teeth. She ran her hands through his hair, holding him close.

Lifting her, he knelt on the bed and hauled her to the pillows, pulling her in tight to his hot, hard body. One hand pulled down her plain cotton panties, while he licked the shell of her ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed
you
.” She turned in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his back, and hugging him. “How’d it go with your mom?”

He pulled back a little so they could see each other. “It was good. Thank you for arranging it.”

“You’re welcome.”

His hand rested on the curve of her waist. Slowly, lightly, he stroked over her hip and along her thigh. “She thinks it’s pretty cool that you sent her a video of me performing the song, but she said it was nothing like hearing it live. And she loved that you framed the lyrics for her.”

“I’m glad.” She scraped the hair off his face. “Did you talk about it? The song?” Slater hadn’t been able to find a song his dad had written that he could work with. Yeah, his dad had been that bad. So he’d written a song of his own.