Meeting Trouble (New Adult Rock Star Romance) (11 page)

“Touch yourself,” he insisted, eyes brightening as my hand moved down between my legs, fingers brushing his cock. “Good girl. Do it for me. I want to come with you.”

I wasn’t sure I could, again, but seeing him poised above me like that, hips rocking and rolling, the way he bit his lip when he slowed the tempo a little, letting me catch up, I knew I had to try.

“Oh god, yes,” I murmured, feeling that first sweet swell in my belly. I rode the wave a little higher, rocking my hips up to meet him. “Fuck me, Rob—harder!”

He groaned, his head dropping to rest against my shoulder, but he gave me what I wanted, thrusting harder and faster. His breath was hot against my neck, his whispered words making me shiver.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good… I don’t… I can’t… ahhh…”

“Please!” I begged him, my other hand in his thick, dark hair, pressing him to me. “Oh so close. Oh God, so close…”

He gave a low, rumbling groan and I knew I didn’t have long, but it didn’t matter because I was just moments away from bliss. I wrapped both arms around him, letting his cock do the rest of the work, letting Rob take me there with each grinding trust.

“Come on, baby!” He thrust again, again, arching now, his eyes on mine. “Come for me. Come with me!”

“Yes!” I cried, feeling a huge wave cresting, hovering, and then crashing over me. I shuddered and bucked under him, my nails digging hard into his upper arms.

“Oh fuck! Now!” Rob spread my thighs wide with his, almost sitting up. He looked down to see himself going into me, thrusting one last time and crying out, biting his lip as he climaxed. I felt every single throb of his cock as he came inside of me and I used all my muscles to milk him, every last bit, loving the way he moaned and bit his lip again when I did that.

He collapsed beside me, rolling us both up in the comforter, making a sweet little cocoon. I snuggled with him, stroking the stubble on his cheek. His eyes were closed so I could take the time to really look at him, the l
ong dark lashes, full lips and dimpled chin. I just wanted to capture this moment in my mind forever. I didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or the next day, or the months and years that would stretch into the future without this amazing man in my life. If I could have stopped time, I would have. To hell with the rest of the world.

“What are you thinking about?” He opened one eye to peer at me.

“I was thinking… we haven’t had sex in the bathroom yet.”

“Nap first.” He groaned, arms tightening around me. “Shower later.”

I didn’t argue.

That suited me just fine.

Chapter Nine

We went to dinner at La Fondue in Royal Oak. If I had rented my house in Royal Oak instead of Ferndale, I would have paid double.
Their downtown was bigger and fancier than ours, even though they were just one city over on the map. There was a big Barnes and Noble and a Coldstone Creamery and a Panera Bread and lots of other little local shops selling soaps or baked goods or advertising tattoos in the window. During the summer, Sunday was biker night, but February was quiet. Few people would brave the cold to window shop.

Everyone in Michigan had a destination in mind if they left home in February.

“Is this as good as the Thai food place?” Rob asked as the waiter seated us.

I was glad it was a guy and not a woman, just because I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable flirting and asking for autographs. I wanted Rob to myself. That’s why I picked fondue—it took three to four hours for one meal, from appetizer to dessert. It would be a perfect end to our perfect day.

Our waiter—Brian—wore wire-rimmed classes and had short-cropped hair and a crooked smile. He didn’t seem to recognize Rob, even though he’d left his sunglasses and ball cap at home, on my request. He wore a black button-down shirt and khaki’s—both picked up at the thrift store. I’d dressed up for the occasion with a little black dress and strappy black heels.

The othe
r reason I’d picked La Fondue was the dark atmosphere. The booths were black and the lighting dim, and their patrons were mostly couples on a date or celebrating an anniversary or birthday, people looking to be alone for a long time together.

“It’s good,” I replied, s
miling at Brian as he brought my girly fuzzy navel and Rob’s German beer. “But in a different sort of way.”

“I haven’t been disappointed with your choices yet.”
He took a sip of his beer.

“Me either.”
I smiled to myself, stirring my fuzzy navel, seeing Rob tilt his head at my remark and then laugh.

Brian came back over and gave us the spiel about how fondue worked. I’d been before, and Rob said he’d done fondue a lot in L.A. so we really didn’t need to hear it. But clearly Brian needed to say it, so we let him go through it all
. But we were flirting the whole time with our eyes. Rob’s gaze kept dipping to my cleavage and I wiggled in my seat, remembering his mouth there. I couldn’t stop looking at his lips, the memory of his kiss like a brand. I could actually feel the pressing heat of it and we weren’t even touching.

All the while, Brian was acting like a stewardess, telling us all the horrible things that could happen to us. He told us how hot the pot was and how we shouldn’t touch the metal part of the skewers if we’d left them in the pot or we might burn ourselves. He even warned us how hot the cheese would be—the first course—and especially how hot the oil we would cook our main course in was.

When he left to get our first course ready, Rob and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“If you touch hot metal, you’ll get burned,” Rob said with wide eyes. “You don’t say!”

That made me laugh even harder. When Brian came back, I straightened up and wiped my eyes and tried to look serious, but Rob kept mouthing, “You don’t say?” every time Brian looked at me and I had to disguise my laugh as a cough or sneeze as best I could.

It was so bad, Brian finally asked if I had a cold as he stood there
stirring, adding a little wine and melting our cheese in the pot between us.

“No, no,” I replied, wiping my eyes again. “It’s just… uh… allergies.”

That broke Rob up and he covered it with a cough that turned into a coughing fit. He hid it in his elbow, tears streaming down his face.

“Wow, are you guys
both allergic to cheese?”

“No!”
I protested, kicking Rob’s shin with my high heel under the table.

He winced, gritting his teeth and glaring at me, but I glared right back.

“No, I think we’re just hungry. I love cheese!”

Brian left the c
ut-up bread cubes on the table between us, along with the skewers.

“Well…” Brian
said, doubtfully. “Enjoy.”

“We will!” I smiled brightly, waggling my fingers at him, trying to encourage him on his way and he took the hint.

“Owwww!” Rob leaned down and rubbed his shin, a delayed reaction. “What was that for?”

“You are a very bad man!”

“You knew I was trouble when you met me.” He laughed, crossing his eyes, mocking me, “I love cheese!”

“Shut up!” I couldn’t help laughing but I shushed him, glancing around at all the other quiet couples around us. “I
do
love cheese.”

“Prove it.” He picked up his skewer, eyes dancing. “Race you.”

We’d burned so many calories at my place between the sofa and the kitchen table and the bed, we were both starving—again.

I grabbed my skewer and shoved it into a piece of bread, dipping it quickly into the cheese.
It was so thick, I had to turn it around and around to try to break the gooey, long thread of cheese attached at the bottom.

“Oh no you don’t.” He skewered a piece of bread, shoving it into the pot. He didn’t bother breaking the thread of cheese—it stretched from the edge of the fondue pot to his mouth as he shoved the bread in.

Then his eyes widened and he grabbed his beer, talking two long gulps.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hot!” he gasped, eyes watering, taking two more gulps of beer. “Damn, that’s hot!”

“You don’t say?”
I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh.

Beer spewed everywhere. Luckily he had the good sense to turn his head so he didn’t get it in the cheese. I handed him one of the cloth napkins, still laughing.

“You’ll be sorry later,” he choked out, still snorting laughter. “Remember, this is my
tongue
we’re talking about.”

I stuck mine out at him. “You have other valuable parts.”

“Glad you think so.”

We were more careful, heeding Brian’s warning and letting the cheese cool a little first before chancing a bite, but our first course was gone far too fast. We shared the last bite and instead of breaking a long string of cheese between us, Rob just leaned over and kissed me.

“Careful,” I whispered, meeting him halfway. “That pot is hot.”

“You don’t say?” He licked my lower lip. “So am I. What are we gonna do about that?”

I smiled. “Let’s get through dinner first.”

“Waiter!
” Rob sat back, waving wildly, making me laugh. “Next course!”

Brian came to take our cheese and replaced it with a pot of hot oil. He turned up the heat, went through the warnings again, but we didn’t laugh this time.
Then he left a plate with small chunks of meat, another with vegetables, a bowl of batter and a variety of dipping sauces. He gave us instructions on how long to cook everything and I tried to remember it all.

Rob ordered another beer but I was still nursing my fuzzy navel.
Last night felt like a dream in part because I’d had so much alcohol. As much as I still felt as if I was dreaming, I didn’t want to accentuate that feeling with too much to drink. I wanted to experience this man as completely and fully as I possibly could in the short time we had.

“What are you thinking about?” Rob asked, dropping a batter-coated bit of beef into the hot oil.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” The question just popped out as I skewered a piece of cauliflower.

“I don’t know if I believe in anything.” He eyed me over his beer. “Belief has too much doubt and thought for me. You either do or you don’t, right? I guess what I have is… faith.”

“Faith?” I dropped my battered cauliflower in next to his beef.

“Yeah.” He smiled, putting down his beer and skewering a mushroom. “I have a basic sort of faith in the universe
, in… this.”

He waved his hand in the air and then reached for a butter knife so he could stuff his mushroom with the cream cheese and chives mixt
ure Brian had left on the table.

“You have faith in fondue restaurants?” I smirked as Brian returned, leaving Rob another beer on the table.

“Smart ass.” He rolled his eyes as Brian left, pulling his beef skewer part way out to check on it. “I just mean, you know, all of this. The world. Everything beyond it. Whatever that might be. I don’t pretend to know what that is. I think religion gets it wrong because they’re too literal. And I think science gets it wrong for the same reason. I think there’s a natural order to things but most of the time I think what we’re trying to do with both religion or scientific explanation is to mitigate our own fear of the unknown.”

“That’s very profound.” I pulled my cauliflower out o
f the pot, putting it on my plate.

“I just accept what is. Right here. Right now. And I trust what I feel. So I don’t really believe in anything. But I have faith in all of it.”

I nodded, skewering and battering my own piece of steak before dropping it into the hot oil.

“How about you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Me?” I dipped my cauliflower into a sweet dipping sauce, taking a bite. I loved fondue—little fried bits with all sorts of sauces—it was the perfect grazer’s meal. “I was raised Methodist. My dad’s mom went to church every week and took me. My mother was Christian Scientist.”

“Now that’s interesting.” Rob dipped his beef and took a bite. “But I meant, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Oh.” I flushed, turning a piece of broccoli in the batter, not looking at him. “I don’t know. It’s never happened to me, but I can’t discount it. It’s like ghosts. Or aliens. Or God—I can’t prove they don’t exist, so how can I say no?”

“That’s very practical of you.”
He smirked. Even his smirks were sexy.

“I told you I was raised by practical parents.”

“But practical girls don’t wear fishnets and miniskirts.” He wagged his eyebrows and grinned. .

“Well…”
I flushed at the memory. I wasn’t a party girl, never had been. But I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d worn that particular outfit to attract the attention of a certain someone, who was now miraculously sitting across from me by some strange twist of fate. How had we gotten here? I still didn’t quite know.

“Or get up on stage at a moment’s
notice to sing in a blues bar,” Rob went on.

“Um…”
I had to blame the alcohol. That was my only good rationalization for that one.

“Or sleep with rock stars they just met.”

“Hey!” I protested but I didn’t regret that, not one bit.

“I’m just saying.
” He shrugged, popping another stuffed mushroom into his mouth and chewing. He was cooking things far faster than me. “I think Sabrina Taylor has a wild side.”

“I think you bring it out in me.”
I checked my second piece of steak—done, a nice crispy brown—and pulled that skewer out of the pot.

“Maybe I should stick around then, because I like that side of you.” Rob skewered a scallop—we’d ordered the big platter and it included all sorts of meats, including seafood.

“I do too.” I smiled, meeting his eyes. He really did bring it out in me, whatever “it” was. My wild side. My spontaneous, crazy, very unpractical side.

“How are we doing here?”
Brian asked, appearing out of nowhere. I’d been too busy watching Rob skewer and cook fish.

“Great,” Rob replied.
“Can we get another drink for the lady?”

“Sure, be right back.”
Brian disappeared again. The place was so dark it was hard to see him coming or going.

“You’r
e just trying to get me drunk,” I said, making my own stuffed mushroom, battering it and dipping it into the hot oil.

“Nah.” He denied it but his grin said something else. “J
ust like your inhibitions lowered a little bit.”

“Why, what are you planning?”
I raised my eyebrows.

“No plans.” He shrugged. “
Whatever happens, happens.”

“Did you always want to be a rock star?”
I asked, changing the subject.

“No. I wanted to be a pirate. Or a
ninja. Or something involving big swords.” He watched as I checked my mushroom—not done yet—before putting it back into the pot. “I settled for a guitar. How about you?”

“I never wanted to be a pirate.”

He laughed. “A princess?”

“No, not that either.”

“Let me guess,” he mused, leaning forward. “You wanted to be a rock star.”

“No, not me.” I scoffed. “
I don’t like being the center of attention.”

“You’re the center of mine.”

That made my heart skip and my face burn. Just being noticed by Rob Burns would have been enough for me—that brief encounter outside the venue, the rose he’d handed me at the show. I’d put it in water in the morning, but it had wilted completely. I would probably have to press it to preserve it. But I would keep it, a memento to remind me of that one moment when Rob Burns noticed me. I could have lived on that my whole life long. But this? I didn’t know what to do with this. The man disarmed me completely. He’d left me speechless, breathless and stunned more times than I could count in the brief time we’d had together.