Rock Starred: Love My Way (9 page)

I rocked my hips, meeting him with every stroke and he nuzzled his face into my neck. We both moaned—speech would have been too complicated. Our bodies slid against each other, sweat beading between us. Teetering on the brink, I was clinging to the pressure for dear life. He gave several long and forceful thrusts and called my name. With that, I let go, and the release rippled through me, my shoulders and chest shaking.

Both of us breathless, Peter rolled to my side and immediately pulled me closer, kissing me on the cheek. I spread my hand across his stomach and hooked my ankle around his, resting my head on his shoulder. Contentment settled over me.

"I feel so much better," he said.

I sighed. "I know. Me too."

"Bathroom?" he asked. "I need to get rid of this condom."

"Far end of the apartment. On the other side of the living room."

I rolled on to my stomach and watched him walk away, admiring everything about his unbelievable body, ass near the top of the list.

He smiled when he returned and climbed into bed. "I missed you so much." He combed his fingers through my hair. "I felt like I was going crazy."

"I missed you too."

Max hopped up onto the bed. "Shit," Peter said, jerking his head.

"Oh God. I'm sorry. This is Max. Are you allergic?"

He blew out an exhalation before reaching out for Max's head and petting him. "No. I love cats. He just surprised me."

Max rubbed against the back of Peter's hand, purring loudly.

"Huh." I jutted out my lower lip and looked at Peter. "He doesn't usually like strangers."

"Max will be my best friend by the time I leave."

 I then realized that after two nights, he'd be gone again. I'd been so focused on getting to Saturday. The future beyond tomorrow night was out of focus at best and I might end up back at square one when he was gone.

Max turned in a few circles and settled down next to Peter. "How long have you had him?" he asked, again stroking Max's fur. "I wish I could have a pet. It's impossible when you're on the road all the time."

"Max is almost three." My voice was tinged with melancholy. "My ex gave him to me the Christmas we got engaged. He's basically the only good thing Brad gave me."

"Ah, the ex." Peter wrapped his other arm around me. "Will you tell me more about what happened? I want to understand what made you swear off relationships for so long."

"It's not a complicated story, it's just a little pathetic." I swallowed in an attempt to prevent tears. "We were together for two years and about to be married when he left. He fell in love with a woman he worked with. I'd thought there was something going on between them for months, but he always denied it and said that they were just friends. Turned out my hunch was correct."

"So you had to cancel the wedding, the honeymoon. The whole thing."

"My mom and I had to call every single person we invited to tell them it was off. I almost think it was harder on her than it was on me. Although I was pretty numb at the time." I sniffled, which I hated doing. "So I ate ice cream and chocolate for a month and then I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself."

"I wouldn't say you were feeling sorry for yourself. He changed your whole life. Of course, I think a paper cut is a good reason to eat ice cream, so I'm probably not the person to ask."

My index finger swept his hair from his forehead, where I placed a kiss. "You are the sweetest man. Really."

He grinned and kissed me on the lips. "I try."

"So, yeah, that's it. From there, I focused on my career and figured my love life could just go on the back burner for a really long time."

"You had to know that would never work."

"Yeah, it wasn't my best idea ever." I ran my fingers through the hair of his chest. "Sometimes people break your heart. You know that. You told me you had a really bad breakup."

"It was awful." He cleared his throat. "The difference being that I was the jerk."

"No way. You're such a sweetheart."

"No, I'm pretty sure I was an asshole. You probably wouldn’t have liked me very much back then."

"What happened?"

He settled his head on to the pillow and I folded myself into him. "This was with Susie, my first serious girlfriend. Remember, I didn't have my first girlfriend until I was nineteen."

"I still don't get that. I love you in your glasses. I totally would've dated you in high school." I kissed his chest.

"Thanks. You're definitely in the minority." He kneaded his forehead. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes."

"This was right when the band was starting to take off. I got really swept up in everything the first time we did a big tour. People are stroking your ego and there's a party every night and women start throwing themselves at you. Susie was my first serious girlfriend, but she was also my first, period."

"Oh."

"And so, yeah, I slept with some girl after a show one night. I felt guilty the next day, but I just started drinking instead of dealing with it. I ended up with a different girl the next night. This went on for a week. Once I sobered up, I couldn't deal with the guilt anymore and I told Susie everything. She dumped me."

It was hard to imagine him like that, but I gave him a lot of credit for being so brutally honest about something that only made him look bad. "I'm sorry. I mean, I can’t say that I’m surprised that she couldn’t deal with it, but you know, we all make mistakes. You can’t beat yourself up over it too much now."

"Yeah, well, I fucked up, big-time. Believe me, I spent months and months kicking myself. I'm never making that mistake again." He brushed my chin with his fingertip and gazed into my eyes. "I told myself that if I ever found the right woman, I would never let her get away."

My shoulders relaxed and heat flooded my cheeks. "That's good to know."

His thumb gently traced my jaw. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

My heart fluttered, I smiled and blinked like crazy, but I was speechless.
The "L" word.
I hadn't heard that in a long time and as terrifying as it was to admit, it sounded amazing coming from his incredible lips. He scanned my face, undoubtedly looking for an answer.

Fear cast aside, swept up in the moment, I told him. "I know I'm falling in love with you."

Max was wholly annoyed that I didn't get out of bed until after ten a.m. He'd been meowing and head-butting my hand off-and-on for an hour, begging me to get up and feed him.

"Duty calls," I said, rolling over to kiss Peter on the temple. I threw back the sheets and tiptoed into the kitchen.

"Sweetie, you could start a nude pet-sitting business," he mumbled sleepily. "In case the photography thing doesn't work out."

I scooped the food into Max's bowl and refilled his water dish as Max rubbed up against my leg. "You might need to rethink the business model." I turned as Peter put on his glasses and patted my spot on the mattress. He looked good enough to eat, his chest tempting me from across the room, hair a complete disaster. I traipsed back toward the bed but stopped short. "Don't move."

He flattened his hand on the mattress and furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"I'm serious. Don't move," I called out as I jogged into the other room. Returning with one of my cameras, I removed the lens cap and began taking pictures. "The light is just perfect on you right now. You look amazing."

His shoulders visibly relaxed. "I do? Because you look spectacular holding a camera with no clothes on."

I snapped away, studying his features as I captured something new with every frame—the curious bump on his nose, the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he was happy. "There was no time to get dressed. I couldn't miss this light." The structure of his jaw was particularly mesmerizing, but the smile that played at his lips was a close second. "Seriously. You're so handsome." I was aware of every breath as it left and entered my lungs. "It boggles the mind."

His cheeks flushed pink as he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop taking my picture and get over here."

"No way. Just a few more." I moved to the other side of the bed and crouched closer, capturing more of the depth to his steely blue eyes now that he was no longer wearing his glasses. "Your eyes are incredible."

He sat up and confronted the lens. "How are they now?"

"Actually, they look sort of mysterious when you do that." I pulled the camera away from my face. "Is this really making you that uncomfortable?" I went back to snapping away, moving to the end of the bed again. "Because this is what I do, you know." I took two more shots. "Damn, the light's gone already."

"Thank God. Will you come back to bed now?"

I replaced the lens cap and set the camera on the bedside table before climbing in next to him. "I got some really great stuff." I leaned down, kissing him, drinking in the soft brush of his lips. "I might have to make you another print since you liked the first one I gave you so much."

"I loved it, but I'd rather have one of you." He pulled me down on top of him and gazed up into my eyes, smoothing my hair back from my face. "Come on the road with me."

"What?" I rolled to my side. Had he really said that?

He took my hand. "Come on the road with me. Can you take off a week or two? Rearrange your schedule?"

I sat frozen for a moment, expecting my old panicky mindset to kick in, but I took a breath, allowing a remarkable calm to stay. Maybe I really was ready for this. Maybe enough time had passed for me to heal. "I might be able to do a week." My mind rummaged through my upcoming schedule. "Any longer and I'd have to leave for a few days in the middle. I know I have one big shoot coming up that keeps getting rescheduled. Wait. I thought girlfriends were banned from the bus."

He grinned with mischievous satisfaction. "Girlfriend. I like the sound of that." He smoothed his hand over my butt, just as Max made his presence known on the bed with a meow. "I'd rent our own bus. Elliot used to do it all the time when he was married. It'd take a day or two to arrange, but you could fly and meet us in Toronto or Detroit."

"Ooh, Detroit. That does sound tempting." I smiled as he stuck his tongue out at me. "How do you know I'm not going to drive you crazy?"

"I already know you drive me crazy. I'd love to be that crazy every day if I can." He nuzzled my neck and I turned my hip into his. "We would have tons of downtime, all alone, nothing but a bed and a kitchen and satellite TV."

"Wi-fi? I have to be able to get online for work."

"Of course."

I gave the doubting part of my brain one more minute to come up with some ridiculous reason I shouldn't do it. "Sounds perfect."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He flashed his eyes and made a throaty sound, rolling me to my back and hovering above me. "I love hearing you say that word."

After a very hot twenty minutes of "yes", ending with more time in the shower, Peter and I got dressed and headed out for lunch at a coffee shop down the street. We sat in the back. He wore his sunglasses to avoid being noticed. We held hands and ate big, fat deli sandwiches and french fries. After he paid the check, we strolled back to my apartment and I leaned my head against his shoulder as we walked. It felt as if we were starring in one of those wonderfully funny and romantic movies set in New York like
Annie Hall
. So perfect.

Mrs. Gunderson was at her mailbox when we came in through the front door. "Oh, Katie," she said. "This must be the young man I've heard so much about."

I bugged my eyes at her, but couldn't hide my smile as Peter swiped his sunglasses from his face and shook her hand. I made the introductions.

“Hello.” Mrs. Gunderson scrutinized Peter with the narrowest of stares. "She's a lovely girl, Peter."

"So I noticed." He squeezed my shoulder and kissed my temple.

"I love her like a daughter," Mrs. G continued. "She deserves a fellow who will prove to her that men aren't all the same."

"He's a great guy, Mrs. G. And I love you, too." I leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek, surprised she'd given Peter a hard time at all. She'd been so won-over by the flowers, but perhaps seeing him in person reminded her just how hurt I had once been. "I'm really glad you two had a chance to meet. It's important to me that you like each other."

"I just want what's best for you," she said, giving in to half of a smile.

"Mrs. Gunderson might not be my biggest fan," Peter said when we got back to my apartment. "Maybe I should send her some Slump CDs. Grease the wheels, so to speak." He pulled me closer.

I laughed, quietly. "She's anxious for me to find the right guy. And she likes you. Really, she does. She was very impressed with the flowers. I gave her some of the overflow."

Peter's gaze traveled to the living room. Max's favorite gray couch was largely obscured by the coffee table laden with roses.

"I guess I did go a little overboard, didn't I?" He wrapped his arms around me. "I was only trying to send a message. I didn't want you to think I just hooked up with you in Miami."

I became aware of every breath as my chest rose and fell and our foreheads rested against each other. "I got the message. Loud and clear." We kissed for a moment and Max rudely intruded, meowing and rubbing against our legs. We both crouched to pet him, which only seemed to whet his thirst for affection.

Peter glanced at his watch. "Shit. It's almost three."

I plopped onto the floor and rubbed Max's ears. "You need to get to sound check, don't you? That sucks."

Peter pulled his phone from his pocket. "You know what? They don't need me. One of the guitar techs can do my check."

"Are you sure? Don't do that on my account."

"Yes, I'm sure," he said, pressing the keypad on his phone. "I don't want to give up two hours with you." He walked over to the couch and sat with his arm across the back. "Hey, Tony, can you get one of the techs to do my guitar check for me? I'm super busy." He winked at me before his eyes narrowed. "Are you serious? Fine. Put him on." A booming voice came on to the line—I could hear it from across the room. Peter rolled his eyes.

"Elliot, chill out. We'll work on the new song tomorrow night in Boston. It's not that big of a deal. It's not like we were going to play it tonight." He shook his head. "You know what? She's my girlfriend and I want to spend time with her. Is that so wrong? You and Stony pull this kind of shit all the time and I never say anything. So just deal with it. I'll be there an hour before we go on." He pushed another button on his phone and tossed it onto the couch.

"You didn't have to do that." I hated feeling like I might be causing a problem. "Seriously. If you need to go, you should go. Don't get into a thing with Elliot just because of me."

He got up and walked toward me, reaching for my hand and pulling me back to standing. "Fuck Elliot. You are way more important to me right now."

When it was time to head to the club, we took the Town Car Peter had arranged. We leaned against each other in the backseat and held hands, our fingers intertwined. Neither of us said a thing for a stretch. Silence. Comfortable silence. I didn't need to talk and apparently neither did he. We could just be. Together.

I peered up at Peter. He grinned and kissed me on the forehead, allowing his lips to linger. The city breezed by through the windows—clusters of people on the sidewalk, a hot dog cart, a stretch of construction scaffolding and the rickety wood pedestrian tunnel beneath.

"I love this city," I muttered, shifting in my seat and snuggling closer to him.

"It's pretty awesome. We love coming to play here. Not sure I could ever live here though. I've been in Chicago my whole life."

"I like Chicago," I said, my voice fading. I'd been to Chicago several times for photo shoots and I thought it was fun, but I stubbornly clung to my Manhattan Visitor's Bureau attitude—there's no real reason to live anywhere else.

Peter directed the driver back behind the club and ushered me through the congestion of equipment trucks to the place where Slump's two massive black tour buses sat idling. Elliot stood talking to a pair of women outside one of the bus doors. The three of them spotted us as we approached and the women hustled up to Peter, CDs and Sharpies in hand, asking for autographs. Elliot seemed noticeably annoyed as he trailed behind them.

One of the girls was spilling out of her top, jiggling and tittering as she rambled on to Peter. "Oh my God. My sister has been totally in love with you forever. She would die if she knew I met you."

Peter nodded and smiled, signed her CD and handed it back to her.

The second fan tried a different approach, speaking in a phony intellectual voice. "You guys are my favorite band in the whole world. I listen to your music and it's so moving. I feel like I really understand you guys. This is the third show we've seen on this tour. We're driving up to Toronto too." She continued watching as he signed a stack of CDs, very noticeably rubbing her breast against his upper arm.

I fought a strong urge to throw my arms around him and mark my territory by kissing him with reckless abandon. Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I crossed my arms across my chest. Jealousy was admittedly my worst personality trait and it hadn't been tested in years. But I was older now, no longer the insecure twit I'd been when I was with Brad.

Elliot smiled smugly as the two girls returned to his side. "Yo, Pete, we need to talk about the sound check thing today." He cocked an eyebrow and nodded in my direction, as if I was the source of the problem.

Now my blood was boiling in a new way.
Asshole. I'm not some idiotic groupie.

"Ignore him," Peter said when they walked away. "Come on, I want to show you the band bus. So you can see our setup for when you come on the road. I'll spare you the crew bus. It's pretty gross."

Peter led the way up the steep stairs. "This is where we spend most of our time."

We walked into a seating area with long, upholstered bench seats, a pair of recliners and a flat-screen. Beyond that was a dining table between two more benches and a small kitchen next to it. I'd been on plenty of tour buses over the last several years, but this one was extra swanky.

Peter pointed at the mini-fridge. "Do you want anything?"

I shook my head. "I'm good."

"You can't do much in the way of cooking in the kitchen, but we'll stock it with snacks." He traced his fingers down my spine and wrapped his hand around my hip.

It was exciting to think about the great adventure ahead of us, but I felt uneasy too. Maybe this was too much, too soon.

I had an unwelcome flashback to the day Brad showed me the apartment he'd picked out for us. He thought it was perfect, a renovated unit, everything brand new and shiny. I'd been hoping for a cool old brownstone with original woodwork and a fireplace. I'd asked if we could keep looking, he'd insisted that his choice was perfect, and that we would be happy there for a very long time. I should have known right then that it was never going to work.

Peter pushed back a pocket door to show me the postage-stamp bathroom. "Don't worry, you won't have to shower in here. That's why we get hotel rooms every day."

I nodded and he took my hand and I followed past a few bunks and into the back. "And this is the bedroom." He pulled me into an embrace and shut the door behind us. His mouth went to my jaw and I closed my eyes to get my bearings. "I love the way you smell, Katie." He pecked at my neck, taking a gentle nibble of my ear. "I wish we had time for this. You're getting me all worked-up."