Trouble Rising (New Adult Rock Star Romance): Tyler and Katie's Story #3 (3 page)

“He got it for me because I asked him to,” Tyler said softly.

“If you’re going to quit something, then quit
that
,” Rob snapped.

“Rob,” Sabrina said for the third time, although the warning in her tone was sharp enough this time that it made Henry start to cry. “Don’t.”

“Fuck that.” Rob slammed his fist on the table, making the coffee pot and mugs jump, but not topple, and Lucy started crying, too. “This isn’t happening. I’m not letting this happen.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Tyler let a sniffling Lucy go and she climbed into my lap, sucking her thumb, but it only took her a moment to notice she was closer to the elusive coffee pot. Rob’s face grew darker at his brother’s words—he didn’t like hearing that he didn’t have control. “I quit.”

“You have a contract,” Sabrina reminded him softly.

“I know.” Tyler shrugged one shoulder. “They can sue me. I can afford it.”

“Jesus.” Rob sat back, looking stunned and defeated. “Why? Tyler, why are you doing this?”

“I have to.”

“You don’t have to,” Rob protested. “If you’re overworked, we can cut back. We can… do something… but you can’t just quit. You can’t—”

“I have to.” Tyler closed his eyes for a moment, with a little shake of his head, and I knew then, he was going to tell them. I edged closer, still holding Lucy between us.

“You don’t—” Rob tried to make the same protest again, but Tyler stopped him with just two words.

“I’m sick.”

The silence was like the weight of the world. It stretched forever, until Lucy squealed and put her arms around Tyler’s neck to give him another kiss. He accepted it, and her, holding her in his lap. Sabrina’s eyes were filling with tears.

“Sick?” Rob could barely get the word out. There was a horror in his eyes I remembered experiencing the first time Tyler told me, too. “Sick how?”

“I’m not dying or anything.” Tyler was quick to dispel that, seeing how Sabrina was welling up. “But I’ve got… I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. The pain in my hands… I… I can’t play anymore. Not like I used to.”

“That’s why you had the studio musicians in on the album.” The realization crossed Rob’s face as he sat back, looking even more stunned now than he had when he first walked in. “It wasn’t because you were busy with the series. It was because…”

Rob’s voice trailed off, like he couldn’t even say the words. As if saying the words might make it true. He looked like he wanted to wake up from a living nightmare. I knew that feeling.

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed with a grimace. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just… I wanted to go as long as I could.”

“Tyler, I’m so sorry.” Sabrina’s tears were falling now, and just looking at her made me want to cry. “Is it… I mean, are you sure? You got a second opinion?”

“A second opinion,” Rob repeated, hope flitting across his face. “Good idea. Look, bruh, we can afford the best treatments, the finest doctors. We can—”

“Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Tyler told them with a sad little smile. “They’ve got me on the best meds. And changing my diet has helped.”

“That’s why you stopped the junk food!” Sabrina exclaimed, looking over at me. I just nodded.

“But there’s no cure,” Tyler said, looking across the table at his brother. “You can’t fix this, bruh.”

“Fuck.” Rob put his head in his hands, elbows on the table.

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed.

What more was there to say?

Rob warned Tyler that Arnie wasn’t going to take it well—and neither was the label. Or the rest of the band. But there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. Tyler simply couldn’t physically do it much longer, and his argument—that he didn’t want to let everyone down mid-album or mid-tour—was a sound one. Quitting now would give Trouble time to regroup and decide what direction they wanted to go.

“Call me,” Sabrina whispered into my ear when she hugged me goodbye.

I nodded my agreement, handing Lucy over before they went out the door. I’d given Lucy part of a banana to gnaw on, and I had half of it in my hair. She seemed fascinated with the way the light caught in the blonde strands and couldn’t keep her sticky hands off it.

“I need a shower,” I announced when Tyler closed the front door.

“I need a vacation.” He turned and took me in his arms, laughing when I showed him the clumps of banana in my hair.

“That was really brave,” I told him, kissing the side of his neck. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you didn’t want to have to do that.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” He pulled back to look at me, half-smiling.

“Where to?” I smiled back. It was relief, having the truth out in the open, the last vestige of his secret told.

“Away.” His hands moved down to cup my ass. I squealed when he gave it a good squeeze. “Far, far away. Somewhere no one can find us.”

“The paparazzi is always watching.” I made a face. I understood the inclination, wanting to run away—this news would make the press swarm around us, wherever we went. “Where can we go?”

“How about your mom’s?” he suggested after a moment, and I laughed until I almost choked. Then I looked at his face and saw he wasn’t kidding.

“You’re not kidding?”

“No one would think to look there.” He grinned. “Think she’d have us?”

“You really want to sleep on a fold-out couch and eat oatmeal out of a box?” I asked, hoping to dissuade him.

“You’re so spoiled.” He laughed. “Come on—we’ll dodge the paparazzi and fly commercial.”

“First-class?” I asked hopefully and he laughed again.

“Come on, spoiled brat, let’s go on an adventure.”

I wasn’t keen on spending time at home with my mother, but I couldn’t resist the mischievous look in Tyler’s eyes.

I never could say no to him.

“We should pitch a tent,” Tyler said over his shoulder. He stood looking out the second-story window at my mother’s property. It was, admittedly, kind of pretty. She had ten acres, most of it wooded, and there was a little pond out back.

“There are bugs outside,” I reminded him sleepily, patting his pillow. “Come back to bed.”

“I saw a deer.” He was sipping coffee, which meant he’d already been down to visit the kitchen. I wondered if my mother was awake. It was a Saturday, so she didn’t have to work. “And the raccoons really want to get into the garbage bin. They’re like
Ocean’s Eleven
out there.”

I laughed. “That’s why she locks it.”

“And there’s some sort of crane or something fishing in the pond.”

“There are no fish,” I told him, pulling his side of the covers back and patting the mattress. My mother had installed a queen size bed in my old room, making it into a guest room, so at least we didn’t have to sleep together in a twin or on the pull-out in the living room. “It’s too shallow.”

“Wonder what he’s eating then?” Tyler frowned out the window.

“Frogs.” I kicked more of the covers off, exposing my thigh and hip. “Come back to bed.”

He glanced back, eyes lighting up when he saw me. “Tempting.”

“That’s the idea.” I held my arms out and he padded toward me in his boxers, putting his coffee on the night stand before slipping back in beside me.

“You are so delicious,” he murmured, pulling me close. “And I’m starving.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. His mouth was soft, relaxed, opening under mine, and I delighted in it.

I hadn’t realized how tense things had been back home, how much we’d been holding on to all this time. Honestly, when Tyler had suggested coming here, I was horrified—then dubious. Staying with my mother wasn’t exactly my idea of a vacation, and I thought for sure it would be a disaster.

But I’d forgotten how charming Tyler could be—and how much my mother liked him, in spite of the fact that he’d gotten her daughter hooked on heroin once upon a time. It seemed she had forgiven and forgotten, and she welcomed us both with open arms. We hadn’t seen her since our wedding, although I called her once a month just to check in, and we’d sent her gifts on her birthday and Christmas.

The commercial flight hadn’t been bad at all—even though we were both used to a private jet—and the further we got from California, the more we both seemed to be able to breathe easier. Maybe it was the northern Michigan air—we took a little puddle jumper plane into the local airport from Detroit Metro—but it seemed like I could fill my lungs more than ever before.

We’d gone for long walks down the path through the woods every day since we’d arrived, holding hands and not talking. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking—and he was more thoughtful than usual—but he was so happy otherwise. His smile came easier, and so did his laugh. We played card games at night with my mother, or watched TV together, and it seemed so natural, so Midwestern and
normal
. I guess I’d been in California so long, I’d forgotten not everyone lived like we did in Hollywood.

“My mom’s home,” I whispered, as Tyler kissed his way down my throat. “We’ll have to be quiet.”

“
You’ll
have to be quiet,” he reminded me with a chuckle. “Let’s see how you do.”

Then he covered my nipple with his mouth. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and dug my nails in his shoulder—punishment for teasing me. Tyler hadn’t shaved all week and he rubbed his stubble over my skin, leaving a trail of beard-burn down my belly. He dipped his tongue into my navel, a little preview, and I shivered.

“Tyler,” I whispered, pushing him lower, lower. I groaned when he went past his implied destination to nuzzle my thighs with his prickly pre-beard. “Oh God, please…”

“Please what?” He parted my thighs with his palms, kissing my inner thigh between his fingers. “Tell me.”

“Ty…” I pleaded, my fingers moving through his hair—it was longer than usual, because
Album
was set during the seventies, when guys let it grow. I made a fist in it, pressing my hips up. “I’m begging you…”

“Not yet, you’re not.” He grinned up at me from between my legs.

“Is that what you want?” I asked. “To make me beg?”

“Say it.” He parted me with his fingers, splaying my pussy open, taking in the sight. I could feel his breath, warm against my sex, and shivered. God, I wanted his mouth.

“I want your mouth,” I whispered, rocking my hips. “Please, lick me.”

“Mmmm, good girl,” he praised, and then he dove in.

And I cried out, surely loud enough for my mother to hear, if she was listening or nearby, but by then, I didn’t care. I felt Tyler chuckle at my response, but I didn’t care about that either, because his skilled tongue was making my hips tilt and my nipples harden and my juices flow down toward the mattress.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, both my hands in his hair now, making the same circles with my pelvis that he was making with his tongue. “Oh fuck! Ty!”

“Mmmm!” he managed, but there was no other response, because I was coming all over his face, panting and gasping and quivering all over. I managed to bite back a scream by throwing my forearm arm over my mouth and literally biting down.

God, he made me crazy. He made me a slave to my lust for him. It was shameless, the way he made me beg and wiggle and squirm.

“My turn.” Tyler rose up over me, kissing me on the mouth, forcing his tongue in, making me taste myself. I sucked greedily at his tongue, feeling the heat of his erection through his boxers, hard against my thigh.

“Gimme,” I gasped when we parted, my hand already snaking under the elastic of his boxers to grasp him in my fist.

“All yours, baby,” he assured me, letting me push him to his back on the mattress, lifting his hips as I yanked his boxers down. His cock sprang free, beautifully hard, making my mouth water in anticipation.

“Now it’s your turn to be quiet.” I gave him an evil grin and he laughed, but that stopped when I slid him into my mouth. I loved watching his face when I sucked him, the way he drew his lower lip between his teeth, the way his brow started to knit the closer he got to coming. He let out a low moan when I took all of him—as much as I possibly could, anyway—deep into my throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, opening his eyes to watch me come up on his length, stopping to trace my tongue around the head. He shuddered when I did that, grabbing a handful of my hair.

“Shhh,” I reminded him, licking the frenulum, teasing, back and forth. “Gotta be quiet, remember?”

“Stop talking.” He pressed my head down. “Keep sucking.”

So I did, no longer teasing. I sucked him—long, hard, cheek-hollowing strokes from tip to base. Tyler managed to keep his groans to a minimum, although the hand in my hair got tighter and tighter as he guided me up and down his length, setting my pace. I loved it when he did that.

“Wait, wait,” he gasped, pulling me off. My lips felt swollen and hot from the friction. I looked up at him through half-closed eyes, feeling my pussy throbbing, aching for him. “I want to fuck you.”

“This bed makes too much noise,” I reminded him hoarsely, although my clit quivered just thinking about having him inside of me. We’d tried fucking the first night we were here, but the mattress squeaked like there was a mouse trapped between it, so we’d resigned ourselves to quieter versions of sex for the week, at least when my mother was home.

“I can fix that.” Tyler got up, taking me with him.

My mother had bought all new furniture for the “guest bedroom,” as it was now called—funny, my older brother’s room had been left exactly the same, but my room had become the “guest bedroom”—and that set included a bed, two night stands, and a long dresser with a mirror attached.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, glancing at the closed door as Tyler put his arms around me, edging me backwards.

“Fucking you,” he growled, grabbing my ass in both hands and lifting me until I was sitting on the dresser. It was the perfect height.

“Ty!” I hissed his name, my arms going instinctively around his neck, clinging. “Wait.”

“No.” His cock rode the seam of my slit, up and down. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”

“Put my… what?”

Tyler shifted his weight, sliding his arms under my knees, forcing my feet up over his shoulders, folding me practically in half.

“Oh God, Ty,” I panted, but then he was inside me, filling me.

I moaned—not softly either—as he started to fuck me, deep and hard. The dresser rocked a little, but the mirror had been anchored to the wall, so there was no banging of a headboard, no squeaking of the bedsprings.

“Harder,” I whispered, meeting his eyes, so dark with lust it made me feel faint. “Fuck me, Ty. Fuck me harder.”

He did, driving deeper, bottoming out with each thrust. My clit ached and I reached down with one hand—keeping the other looped around his neck for balance—rubbing furiously. He moaned when I did that, hips pistoning into me like a machine.

“Gonna come,” he panted, voice hoarse. “Oh baby, I can’t… I can’t—”

“Yessss!” I hissed, my pussy already starting to spasm. I was so wet, I was sure my juices were dripping down the front of my mother’s new cherry wood dresser, and we were about to christen it even further.

“Come for me,” he groaned, fucking me so hard he forced my breath out in short, hot pants. “Come for me, now!”

I did, grinding back against him, my heels digging into his shoulders, feeling his cock pulsing deep inside of me. I felt every hot pulse of his orgasm, and I was glad that he captured my mouth with his, drowning both our moans of pleasure in a hard, desperate, greedy kiss. We shuddered and clung to each other.

Tyler grabbed my hips, letting my legs down so I could wrap them around his waist, and he carried me like that back to the bed. He didn’t slide out of me, though. He stayed in, putting me on the mattress, shoving me down with his hips as he moved on top of me.

“I love you, Katie,” he whispered, still moving, his cock only half-hard. “God, I love you.”

His words made me melt, brought instant tears to my eyes. I couldn’t imagine loving a man more than I loved this one. I felt sorry for other women, who didn’t have Tyler. And God knows, there were plenty who wanted him. But I was the one he wanted. I was the one he’d chosen.

“I love you, too,” I whispered back, welcoming the weight of him, wanting it all. I felt completely taken by him this way, when he curled his body around me and let himself rut deep, as if he could push all of himself inside of me and stay there.

His breath grew ragged in my ear, but his movements never increased. It was a slow, easy, delicious sort of fuck, perfectly timed and controlled. The bed springs didn’t make any noise at all, but I did, crying out when he made me come yet again, before he came again, too, whispering my name like the sweetest song in my ear.