Page 5 of Hot Shot Rock Star
“I won’t.” I don’t know what else to say, so I say nothing, my thoughts dead-ended in the pulsing silence between us. He nods.
“I’ll have a talk with him. Maybe we can come to an understanding.”
His words send my heart back into palpitating, pre-stroke level over-drive. Because I know what that means. Ben is going to threaten Hal. And I won’t lie, a part of me lights up like my fairy godmother just covered me in fairy dust and stars because my man wants to fight for me. I know he’ll fight the whole world if he has to, and the bubble of euphoria compensates for the spike in fear that Hal will hold it against me. But I can placate Hal. I’ll make sure he’s happy with me. I’ll be nice to him without crossing any lines because I would never betray Ben.
But I’m not going to tell Ben that I plan to be nice because I know better than to throw gasoline onto a raging bonfire.
* * *
In the morningthe smell of sex on my sheets and steamy soap wafting from the shower wake me. Before I open my eyes, I’m hungry for Ben with the female equivalent of a morning woody—whatever that is. A puffy, swollen pussy? A gnawing need for my man. Rolling over, I look for him, and he’s standing where I can see him in the bathroom, naked and glorious, toweling off his hair.
“Come here, you sexy hunk.” My voice is a feline growl and I feel like purring and arching my back. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’ve been this way, addicted to sex and Ben the fucking hockey god ever since—well maybe since that first time if I’m honest.
He laughs and tosses his towel, strutting my way. He doesn’t need convincing or coaxing because, as I discovered the very first night we spent together a year ago, he’s got the stamina of a stampeding horse. His muscles ripple and I don’t worry about staring as he reaches the bed and climbs in, wrapping me in his arms, bona fide guns of steel, and nuzzles my neck, making me shiver.
I pull him on top of me and wrap my legs around him, arching my back into his hard cock. Of course it’s hard, because did I mention he can go from semi to battle ready in less than ten seconds?
“Oh, baby, you’re a sex addict’s dream,” I tell him, unworried that he’ll find fault with my addiction since it’s a well-established fact.
“There’s my little monster,” he says, scraping the sandpaper skin of his jawline across my cheek. Even the feel of his morning stubble turns me on, and I arch up, pressing my wet pussy against him. He claims to have created a monster, claiming credit for my sexual appetite and orgasmic abilities after being starved and blind until I met him. Technically, I was a virgin. And it was horrible and heavenly at once, but ever since then he’s been like the most powerful drug ever invented, and I’m hooked for better or worse.
“I can’t stay, you know.” I groan at his words, not believing him, tightening my legs around him. He slips his hand down between us and cups me, then strokes and I shudder and push against his fingers like a starving person needing a meal, begging for it.
“You can. It’s okay. Only a few minutes.” I can barely speak.
“Afraid not this morning, baby. We have a team meeting and then—”
“Fuck the team meeting.” Need pulls at my senses, and I know I can convince him. I need to make him choose me over his team. A ball of fear rides in, demolishing the sexy desire, turning it into this acute pain. Fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling against the irrational boogeyman from my past. I can’t do this to him, to us.
He pulls from the grip of my legs like I’m a ragdoll because he’s stronger than Hercules and I know better.
“Sorry, babe. Rain check for later.” He kisses my lips and then each of my eyelids, soft and loving kisses like he means it. “You know I’ll make up for it,” he whispers, then lifts himself off the bed and stands. I pry my eyes open, forcing reason and logic to come back to me, fisting my hands so I don’t touch myself to satisfy the ache in my core.
“What’s so important?” I ask without a whine in my voice, not showing the fear in my soul, not hinting at the rapid beating of my heart. He pulls on his sweats and sits next to me on the bed, strokes my cheek because he knows I need reassurance, because I’m a fucking needy shit sometimes, and I hate it, but he never does.
“Team meeting, weights and films.”
“Oh, that’s all. You can be a little late for weights because you already have more muscles than a girl knows what to do with.” He laughs and kisses me long and hard.
“Can’t, babe. I’m a rookie and I can’t make any mistakes, or I’ll end up in the minors.” He stands and throws on a T-shirt and his team hoodie and sneakers all so quickly that it makes my head spin watching him. My eyes follow him to the door.
“We’ll talk more later,” he says. Then he gives me that killer heartbreaker smile, the one that promises all the unicorn promises, the one I want to believe in so much it stabs at my heart and makes me bleed. “When we pick up where we left off.”
Kneeling on the empty bed, naked, I watch him walk out the bedroom door and close it softly behind him. As if I’m going to wait right here where I am until he returns.
I wish I could. I really do.
Then would I be happy?
Or would he be happy? Same thing, right?
I wonder if he’s going to visit Hal Walker before his team meeting. But that would make him a big fucking liar.
