Groupie Love (A Rock Star Romance) (Love in Shades) (8 page)

Chapter 17

Everson

I throw my all-white Aston Martin convertible into park just outside of
Prato
, a hip new Portuguese restaurant that the executives from the record label took me and the band to a few months ago to celebrate the success of our first album. Apparently, everybody who’s anybody in L.A. has been spotted here.

That’s why I want to take Mackenzie here. I want her to feel special.

I toss my keys to the valet and glance over at Mackenzie. An ear-to-ear grin nearly splits my face.

She looks so fucking hot!

She’s wearing a little black top that bares her toned midriff and hot pink skirt that hugs her curves. Together with her tall, skinny heels, that knee-length skirt makes her legs look a mile long. Her hair is pinned back out of her face and falls in loose curls down her back as she stares at something that has caught her eye across the street.

“You ready?” I ask, reaching out and pulling her hand into mine.

She looks at me and smiles. “Sure.”

I bring her hand to my lips for a quick kiss before I jump out of the driver’s seat and round the car to open her door. She steps onto the sidewalk and I hear camera bulbs popping. The paparazzi are here, of course, but I won’t let that stop me from enjoying my evening with the prettiest girl in town.

The valet disappears with my car. Just as I’m about to guide Mackenzie into the restaurant, she slows and glances across the street again. “Everything okay?” I ask, already feeling slightly panicked. I don’t want anything ruining this perfect evening that I have planned for her.

She hesitates for a beat. “That restaurant across the street – it looks good.”

I squint over at the colorful awning bearing a cartoon drawing of a mariachi band and the name Taco Taco Taco Villa in big, goofy letters.

I roar with laughter, tossing my head back and stomping my boot into the pavement. I try to simmer down when I notice that she looks a bit self-conscious.

“You wanna go over there?” I ask, eyeing her curiously.

She smiles broadly, confidently. “Yeah – it looks like fun. And you know what they say – Tex-Mex is the way to a girl’s heart.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Let’s go, then.” I truly don’t care where we eat, as long as I’m with her tonight. The paparazzi go wild, hurling questions at us and snapping photographs as they follow us across the street. I stop momentarily to give a hug and an autograph to an adorable pre-teen fan who completely loses her wits when she spots me. Then, I hold Mackenzie’s hand protectively as I guide her into the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The place isn’t too crowded.

The hostess’s eyes go wide as she recognizes me. “Coal – Mr. Coal. Ohmygod – it’s you!” Her voice rises above the Enrique Iglesias tune blasting through the tiny space.

I give her a small smile and lean in close to her. “Hey there. We’re not trying to draw any attention to us tonight. Think we can get a quiet table?”

“Of course,” she says as she ushers us to a small table at the back of the restaurant. Still looking star-struck, she leaves us with the menus and a pitcher of iced water.

“So, this is your kind of restaurant?” I ask, evaluating the strange, beautiful creature sitting across from me.

She nods with conviction. “Yeah – nice and laidback. First dates are stressful enough as it is without having to worry about whether I’m using the right fork for my salad or if I’ll attract raised eyebrows for grabbing at a piece of chicken with my fingers. I just wanted to be able to relax a bit. I hope you don’t mind.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “I love a tasty burrito as much as the next lad. And as long as you’re good, I’m good.”

She smiles wide. “Good.”

When the waitress comes back, Mackenzie orders a virgin strawberry daiquiri and a platter of Texas-style baby back ribs. My heart feels happy knowing that she’s comfortable enough in her own skin to order a meal that is guaranteed to get messy. I like this girl more with each little quirk that I uncover. I request a Santa Fe chicken burrito and a beer.

I turn my attention to my beautiful date as the waitress walks away. She leans in close, cups her hand around her mouth and whispers. “Let me warn you right now – I’m
starving
and I tend to be a bit of a piggy when I get going.”

I laugh. “I look forward to seeing that.” I swirl my glass of water around, the ice clinking about at the top. “It’s not everyday that I go to dinner with a girl who’s actually willing to eat.” My mind floats back to the many times I spent hundreds of dollars to wine and dine Tasha at upscale restaurants only to have her take two small nibbles then remind me of the restrictions of her diet
du jour
. It’s a relief to know that Mackenzie is the opposite.

She laughs to herself. “My sister is constantly scolding me about my lack of table manners. Apparently, I’m unladylike when it comes to food.”

“That’s okay. As long as you enjoy yourself tonight, I’ll be happy,” I assure her.

“I’m rambling on a bit. I know. I’m nervous.” Her confession takes me a bit by surprise.

I reach over and snatch her hand up off the table. I lean in close and drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m nervous, too.” We both laugh a little before I say, “I’m really happy to be here with you, Mackenzie. I would have spent the entire tour kicking myself if I hadn’t asked you out.”

A gorgeous, shy smile touches her lips and in the dim light of the restaurant, it’s hard to tell, but I think she’s blushing.

“Tell me about your family,” I say to break the ice.

She pulls in a sharp breath as she reaches for her napkin. She folds and refolds it in front of her. “I’ve got two brothers and a sister. I’m the youngest. My siblings are all lawyers. Like our dad.”

“Ah – a family of lawyers,” I comment with a small nod.

Something dark crosses her expression. “Except for me,” she says in a small voice. “I’m the Moretti family rebel. I chose dance while law school was a no-brainer for all of my siblings.” There’s a note of dejection in her voice when she says the words.

“Let me guess – your parents aren’t too happy with your decision?”

She pushes a sigh as her gaze falls to the table. “My mother, mostly. She wants me to give up on dance. Get serious. Go to law school.”

I crane my neck, coaxing her beautiful blue eyes to mine. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Becoming a lawyer is not an option for me,” she says, shaking her head vigorously. “I’d die a slow death. Sitting at a desk all day in a stuffy suit, worrying about other people’s problems. I’d die.”

I smile sympathetically. “Well, we can’t let that happen, now can we?”

Her shoulders slump forward. “I applied to the country’s top dance program and I got rejected,” she spits out mirthlessly. “My options are limited now I guess, but law school…I just can’t.”

I reach out and touch her hand. “I’ve seen you dance. You’re amazing, Mackenzie. You have real talent.”

She gives me a smile that tells me she thinks I’m full of shit. I know I’m laying it on thick but I mean every word I say to her.

“No offense and I really appreciate your kind words but you’re not a professional dancer. You don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

I give her a pointed stare. “The professionals think you’re pretty impressive. Georges LeBoeuf said that you’re the next Misty Copeland.”

She gives me a cautious glance. “How did you know that?” she asks warily.

I chuckle. “You’re not the only one who knows how to use Google, Mackenzie.”

She gives me a playful kick under the table as she laughs. “Touché, fine sir. Touché.”

I grab my glass. I need the icy water to cool me down. This girl has me all worked up. “God – you’re beautiful…” I mutter as I bring my glass to my lips.

“Stop it! Stop it!” she says with a bashful giggle, waving her hand to shoo me away. “You’re fucking me up. I can’t think straight when you’re looking at me like that and saying those things to me. You’re making it hard for me to breathe.”

I yank at the collar of my black button-down shirt. The air conditioner in here is doing nothing to ease the heat crawling across my skin. “Sorry – I got a little carried away.” I give her a sheepish chuckle.

“I feel awkward now,” she says laughing.

I laugh too. “It
is
a bit awkward, I guess.” This girl has me bumbling like a pimple-faced teenager who managed to get his crush to the prom. I’m a goddamned rock star and here I am flailing about with no lifeboat in sight.

Just then, the music changes to something slow and sensual. My Spanish isn’t that great but I think that the singer is crooning about being in love with a woman who broke his heart. I sit quietly and listen to the smooth melody, my eyes lingering on the beauty in front of me.

“I know what to do,” she says as she pushes her chair back and stretches out a hand. “Dance with me.”

I chuckle as I spin my glass around on the wooden table. “
What?
”

“Dance with me,” she insists as she rises out of her chair. “There’s nothing that I love more than dancing. When I dance, I feel centered no matter what else is going on in the world. Please, Everson. Let’s dance.”

Even though I have two left feet, there’s no way I can refuse her when she sets it up like that.

I stand and stretch my hand out to her. I use my foot to push a few chairs and a table out of the way, clearing an impromptu dance floor for us. My fingers curl around her hips as she rests her head against my chest.

I wonder if she hears the racket of my heart pounding against my ribs.

The restaurant’s other patrons toss us furtive glances. I should feel silly, standing here in this restaurant, swaying awkwardly to the beat of a song that I don’t even understand. No one else is dancing except Mackenzie and me.

But I don’t care. I’m the luckiest guy around – I’ve got this pretty girl tucked under my arm, a smile gracing her lips, her arms cinched around my waist.

Everything else just fades into the background.

She looks happy. And my heart is full, knowing that I had something to do with that.

And just when I think that this moment couldn’t get any more perfect than it already is, she leans back, eases onto her toes and presses her lips to mine.

Chapter 18

Mackenzie

Everson flips the turn signal on right as he’s about to swerve into his driveway. That’s when we notice that his yard is full. There are more than half a dozen cars crammed into his front yard. Music blares from his house and there are a few smokers hanging out on the front porch as they puff away.

“Having a party?” I say facetiously as I peer up at the house. “I’m offended. I wasn’t invited.”

“Apparently, neither was I,” Everson says, frustration clear on his face. “Looks like the band took the liberty of throwing a party while we were out. Story of my life. Random people just show up at my house every night looking to get drunk and get laid.”

I touch his shoulder lightly and feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach. “Hey –“ I say softly, drawing his attention away from the commotion taking place at his house. “You can park in my driveway,” I offer earnestly.

His eyes sparkle mischievously, his tone laden with innuendo. “I’d
love
to park in your driveway.”

I guess I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

“Stop it, you perv!” I laugh jostling him in the shoulder.

“Sorry – couldn’t resist,” he says as he throws the car into reverse, reorienting it towards my empty front yard.

He parks on the driveway under the palm tree and we both sit there in silence. I don’t want this date to be over and from the way he’s looking at me, I’m guessing that neither does he.

“Tonight was awesome,” he says quietly.

My lips curl into a smile. “Yeah. I had a great time.” I expected it to all go down hill after I suggested that we go to that low-key Tex-Mex restaurant instead of the high-end establishment where he had made reservations. But he took it in stride and the food turned out to be great. And the atmosphere. And that dance.

And that kiss.

That kiss. I don’t know what the hell possessed me to kiss him like that. He was just so close and he smelled so good. The memory of the way his lips feel on mine was rioting through my brain. I just needed to feel it again.

So I took it.

And I wouldn’t undo it if I could. It was amazing.

“So, you don’t regret going out with me?” he asks with an irreverent smile.

I throw my head back against the leather headrest and laugh. “No, I don’t regret it.”

We sit there and stare at each other again, the air heavy with desire.

“So, your tour starts in two days?” My voice is husky and low, cracking with anticipation.

He nods slightly. “Two days.” His gaze is transfixed on my lips.

He’s so handsome. So masculine. So
there.
Every part of me is aware of every part of him. And I’ve never felt the urge to fuck a man so strongly.

“Come in for a drink,” I blurt out before I’ve had the chance to think the proposition through.

His eyes dart up to mine. “Really?” I think that instinctively, he knows that I’m offering more than a gin and tonic for the road. I don’t say the words, but he knows I’m offering him my body.

I clear my throat as I nod. “Really.”

His tongue darts across his top lip as he opens his door and rounds the car to help me to my feet.

His hand is on my waist as I walk gingerly up the gravel path to the front door. My legs are shaky and I don’t know if it’s my stilettos sinking into the unpaved driveway that has me so unstable or if it’s the flittering of his breath against the heated flesh on the back of my neck.

The sounds of the party carrying on next-door register vaguely in my awareness as I slide my key into the lock and push the door open.

As I step over the threshold and flick on the dim foyer light, he wraps his arms around my waist and peppers the side of my face with soft kisses. His mouth wanders down my cheek, my jaw, my throat. I moan quietly as my hand reaches back and holds his head in place. I don’t want him to stop.

“Shit, Mackenzie,” he rumbles into my flesh. “I need you to know right now that if you shut that door, I’m going to do everything in my power to fuck you tonight. If you don’t want that, tell me to leave. Right now. Don’t close the door if you can’t handle what happens next.”

The threat hits me right between the thighs. I spin slowly towards him, my tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I want him. Bad. Discipline, be damned. I look him straight in the eye as I slam the door shut with a loud thud.

A silent moment passes between us and we just stand there, appraising each other. If he’s giving me one final chance to back down, he’s just wasting time. I know what I’m doing. I want him to fuck me.

A wicked glint comes to his eyes and he growls as his lips claim mine. His passion is dizzying. His mouth stays on me as his hands slide under the hem of my shirt, his fingers lighting up my skin.

“Everson…” I moan his name.

“Fuck, Babes. I love the way you say that,” he grumbles against my lips.

My hands are frantic as they undo the buttons of his shirt. I chuckle at my greediness.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as he hurriedly slides down the zipper at the back of my skirt.

“It’s ironic – When I first met you, I was annoyed that you were always shirtless, flaunting that beautiful, tattooed body but right now, there’s nothing I want more than to get you undressed. Immediately.”

He smiles against my lips, his hands pushing my skirt down past my hips. “I was trying to lure you with my shirtless sexiness. To rope you in.” I can hear the facetiousness in his voice.

“It worked.” I slide his shirt off of his shoulders and it falls to the ground just as he slides his hands between my legs. When his fingers ghost against my clit, the contact is too sudden; my knees buckle. “Ooh!” I cry out.

His arms wrap around me right before I topple to the ground. I’m having a hard time keeping steady in my high heels. I kick them off, as I curl my fingers into his hair.

We kiss deep; lips bruising lips, tongues strangling each other. His hunger for me is as frantic as mine for him. “Your mouth,” he groans. “Fucking good.” All I can do is whimper.

He pushes my panties to the side and continues to strum my clit. I grow wetter, my desire dripping onto his hand. “Fuck. Your little pussy is heaven, Mackenzie. So soft and wet.” I keen, arching my back to steal as much as I can from his fingers. He turns me around so that my back is pressed against his chest. His fingers thrust roughly inside of me and a squeal escapes my lips. More and more of my arousal slides down his fingers. “Mmm,” he growls. “Is this all for me, Babes? All this wetness – is it all for me?”

I throw my head back against his chest and nod helplessly as I rock into his fingers. “Yes… All for you.”

His hand splays against my stomach holding me tight to him. “Tell me. Say my name and tell me you’re wet for me.” His fingers piston in and out of my pulsing core.

I pant and glance back at him. “It’s all for you, Everson. I’m wet for you.”

Victory and lust blaze in his eyes. “I told you that you were mine,” he growls into the air.

His arrogance registers in my mind, but I’m too consumed by my arousal to rebut his statement. If anything, his smugness is only turning me on even more. “I’m yours.” I barely recognize my own voice as I whisper the words.

He grunts as he spins me and hoists me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Bedroom?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.

“Up the stairs.”

He moves effortlessly with me clinging to his body, climbing the stairs one by one as his fingers churn inside of me.

We’re almost at the second floor when Everson lays me down on the landing.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my head in a haze.

He doesn’t answer with words. His body does the talking.

He hovers over me and with one hard tug, my panties are gone. He drops to his knees on the step and hoists my legs around his neck. “Shit shit shit,” I mumble as he runs his nose over the length of my seam.

“Delicious,” he murmurs against my sensitive flesh. One hand massages the inside of my thigh while the other slips beneath my ass, angling my body towards his mouth. His lips descend slowly to my core. His tongue twirls around my bud and I suddenly feel like I can fly.

His tongue laps playfully at my clit, tormenting me endlessly without committing fully to the act. I gasp and try to jerk my hips forward but he braces my waist, holding me in place. He laughs wickedly and it vibrates right through me.

I’m dying. This is the day I die. That’s it.

“Everson. Please.” I stare down at him, begging for more.

His eyes meet mine and a wicked glint lives there. “Please, what?” he asks almost innocently, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me.

“Please. Fuck me. With your mouth.”

A sly smile invades his face. “Babes, you’re absolutely beautiful when you beg.” His tongue picks up speed and pressure just before he brushes his fingers over my trembling sex. I whimper, writhing against the stairs. He fingers dip inside of me again. They move in circles, back and forth, in and out. Meanwhile, his mouth is on my clit, sucking, licking, driving me crazy.

I think I’m on the edge.

He screws his fingers into me while his lips clasp onto my clit and pull.

I. Am. Definitely. On. The. Edge.

I claw at the wooden stairs, desperate for something to hold onto. I’m shaking. I’m panting.

His mouth pulls, pulls, pulls on my clit till everything goes foggy. My whole body is alight. And then, I’m freefalling, headfirst into ecstasy. I moan his name into the air as I orgasm, lights and colors exploding before my eyes.

I go limp against the carpeted floor of the landing as Everson’s lips scale my torso kiss by kiss. When his mouth covers mine, my tongue darts into his mouth in search of his. I taste myself there.

“See how sweet you taste, Babes? See how addictive your pussy is?” He growls it into my skin. I want to respond, tell him that I love the way I taste on him, but I’m too spent to formulate the sentence.

Our bodies scoot across the floor until I’m fully stretched out on the carpet and his frame is hovering over mine. “I could eat you forever,” he mutters. “Can’t get enough of you.”

His lips touch my shoulder and my hands run through his hair.

I pull. He bites. I hiss. He grumbles.

He dips his hand into his pocket and comes out with a little gold packet. My hands travel up and down his arms, appreciating his sculpted, inked-up pectorals. Once his pants are off and the condom is on, his hands go between my legs, teasing me with his fingertips. My hips jerk towards him silently begging him to fill me with his thick, long erection.

I’m wet. I’m ready.

“Give it to me,” I purr against his stubbly cheek.

“You don’t give orders,” he says in a gravely voice. “Ask nicely.” He taunts me by cupping my swollen sex with his open hand, rocking the heel of his palm against my clit.

“Aaah!” There’s not a drop of pride left in me. I want his cock so desperately. “Please, Everson. Please.” My voice is hoarse and needy.

“Please what?” he teases wickedly.

“Please fuck me.”

“Good girl, he mutters.

It’s refreshing to be so free and unguarded with this man although he’s virtually a stranger to me.