Cover Me: A Rock Star Romance Page 8

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I cleared my throat. “It was a bit abrupt, that’s all.”

  Maybe he didn’t realize, but I was twenty-seven, too, and what Emmy had with her husband, John, and my nieces was what I wanted to have one day soon. Derek Bast was not husband and father material, at least not the man I thought he was. The past couple of days had me wondering if I’d been wrong about him, though.

  I looked up at him and thought about the decision he asked me to make. “Breaking your contract and firing your manager took a lot of guts. It’s something only a certain kind of man would do.”

  His eyes moved away from me, so I took his hands. “It takes a man who knows what he wants from his life and is willing to strike out on his own to make it happen. That takes more courage that most people can even imagine having.”

  Derek released my left hand and placed it over my right, still holding his. “Your hand’s shaking.”

  “I know. Because I’m trying to be as brave as you and tell you that I want to be with you. I want to trust you. I want—”

  His lips crushed into mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me onto his lap. “No more walking away, Bess. Talk to me when you’re angry. Help me fix it when you’re mad.”

  “Okay. No walking away.” I nuzzled his nose with mine, held his face in my hands and kissed him—freely—no holding back, no fear of getting hurt. If I fell, I crashed and would deal with the fallout, but I wasn’t going to expect the worst. This was a fresh start.

  This was who Derek and I always should have been.

  Nine

  Derek

  I should’ve been relieved. The woman I wanted was giving us a shot. Her sweet, hot mouth was on mine. Her hands roamed up my shirt, and I knew tonight I could have her completely. But my fucking mind wouldn’t shut up. Did I pressure her into this? She didn’t want to call it quits, but there was no denying she wasn’t ready to throw herself into a relationship with me. Hell, she didn’t trust me. That wouldn’t change because I told her to.

  I held her hands still against my chest and parted my lips from hers. “My mom’s probably listening at the door with the phone in her hand ready to give yours a play-by-play.”

  “That’s a repulsive thought.” She kissed the tip of my nose. “Come stay with me.” She shimmied off my lap and stood in front of me tugging my hands.

  I was back on the ledge again. I could jump and hope to God it worked out, or play it safe and step back. “What happened to this is all so fast?” I held her hands tight. Even if she did say no more walking away, I wasn’t sure she could change her ways. “Bess, I want all of you, not just your body. When we make love, I don’t want you holding back afraid to let me in. I pressed my hand over her heart. Even if you’re willing to give this a try with me, your fears haven’t magically disappeared since climbing in my window.”

  Behind her glasses, her eyes fell. “Hey,” I said, reaching up and putting my hand on her cheek, “I want to do this right. I don’t want to blow this.” I guided her back down beside me. “Let me play for you.”

  Her face brightened. “True North? How much do you have? I hope it’s not the depressing tune you were strumming when I was walking over here.”

  I chuckled. “No. That was more a reflection of my mood before you showed up, when I wasn’t sure you were coming back or heading to L.A. without saying goodbye.”

  She rested her hand on my thigh. “I wasn’t sure either until I got to Emmy’s. She and John were fighting and she started telling me about how it didn’t matter what it was about or who was right and who was wrong, that they always figured it out because that’s how they worked.”

  Emmy was six years older than Bess and me. She started going out with John in high school and they were inseparable ever since. He was a Santa Cruz fireman now. I hadn’t seen him for years. “They’re good together.”

  “They are.” She tilted her head and gazed into my eyes like she was seeing something new in me. “I think we could be good together, too.”

  I pulled her close and held her against my chest. “We are good together, Bess, and whenever you’re ready to talk about what caused you to be mad at me all this time, I’m ready to listen.”

  She nodded and rested her head on my shoulder. “Not tonight. Tonight can you just hold me and help me believe this is real?”

  I leaned my head against hers. “Why wouldn’t this be real?”

  She didn’t answer right away. I rubbed my hand in circles on her back and waited. Being together after having been friends most of our lives seemed like a natural progression to me. “Bess? Why wouldn’t this be real?”

  “Because it’s something I’ve imagined since I was fifteen.” She tucked her face into my neck, like she was embarrassed.

  “I want to say that you should’ve told me back then, but me at fifteen—Jesus—I’d have a lot more to get you to forgive me for today if you would’ve.”

  “You didn’t think of me that way at all. I know.”

  I leaned back so I could see her face. “When I saw you in the lobby of The Scene I berated myself for being a blind asshole for so long.” I ran my thumb back and forth over her bottom lip. “Now I see you as this amazing woman who’s perfect for me.”

  I kissed her and she let out a sigh against my lips. “What was that for?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Just content, I guess. Happy being here with you like this. Talking about us. It’s all been building in my head for the past few days and now that I know what the next step is, it’s a relief.”

  “It doesn’t have to cause you such anxiety. Just talk to me.” I kissed her forehead, then scooted up to the top of my bed and leaned against the headboard. I grabbed my guitar and started playing the few chords I had down for True North.

  Bess curled up beside me with her head on the pillow and hooked her finger through one of my belt loops like she was afraid I’d disappear.

  Being in my old room was strange, but comforting. It should’ve started here with Bess. She’d lain across my bed and listened to me play countless times, sometimes humming along and making up lyrics. The other night in that big house in L.A., it was too different. We couldn’t find each other surrounded by so much newness. None of the success and stardom was what made me who I was or Bess who she was, so it only stood in our way. But here, in Santa Cruz, we could rely on our roots to keep us grounded and help us find our way together again.

  “How did you get that?” she asked, sitting up and pointing to the framed picture sitting on my dresser that I’d taken off of her nightstand.

  “Oh, that? One of my finer stalker moments.” I kept strumming, hoping she wouldn’t make me elaborate.

  She laughed. “What are you talking about? How did it get here?”

  “Since you have room in your garage, I hid my car in there—Dad’s idea—and might have spent some time rolling around on your bed.”

  Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open even though she was still smiling. She covered it with her hand. “What did you do in my bed?”

  “No! Nothing like that. God. Do you think I’m the kind of guy to leave you a little gift on your sheets?”

  “Derek!” She smacked my leg. “That’s disgusting!”

  “I was just resting. I didn’t sleep much the night before and had a long day. I was thinking about you and when I saw that picture in the frame that says best friends, I don’t know, it gave me hope that we’d be okay.”

  She took her glasses off and laid back down, resting her head on my leg. “So you took it.”

  “I took it and you can’t have it back. I like it.”

  She fold her hands and rested them on her stomach. “I guess you can have it.”

  I picked a few more notes, trying to find a chord to come next and blend, not sound forced. Bess closed her eyes and listened. “Try a D minor,” she said. “Maybe down an octave.”

  I tried it. It worked. “Just like old times,” I
said, playing it over again and watching a smile stretch across her lips.

  “Derek?” Mom called, knocking again. “Is Bess staying overnight?”

  “Leave the man alone!” my dad shouted, storming up the hall behind her.

  “I just want to know if I should make pancakes for breakfast.”

  Bess turned her head to me, biting her lip with a look of amused anguish on her face. “Don’t worry about breakfast,” I called back, putting the guitar aside and pulling Bess up to lay beside me.

  “Oh, is she leaving?” Mom asked, disappointment evident in her voice.

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Bast,” Bess called.

  “Goodnight, Dear. See you both in the morning?”

  “See you in the morning,” Bess said.

  I turned my lips to Bess’s ear. “This is mortifying.”

  “Good thing I know your family so well. If I were new to this, you’d be screwed.”

  She smothered my laugh with her lips. We rolled toward each other and I held her close, kissing her slowly and deeply, absorbing the shape of her in my arms and the small sounds she made, confident that this would be the first night of countless others spent falling asleep by her side.

  Bess

  It had to be early, too early to be awake. The sun was barely up, but my arm was asleep, wedged under Derek’s chest.

  He rolled over sometime during the night and I’d tossed a leg over his and snuggled against his side. We’d kissed for a long time. It didn’t go past that, then we fell asleep. I didn’t think a night spent with him could be so innocent. It was unexpected.

  It was nice.

  It was like finding my best friend again after all this time.

  I eased my arm out from under him and scooted up to lean against the headboard and shake out the pins and needles. He sighed and shifted closer, reaching out to rest his arm across my waist. Even in his sleep, he knew I was there beside him.

  I eased my fingers through his dark hair, moving the silky strands back off his forehead. The shape of his face always fascinated me. It was like he was made from a male supermodel mold with high, prominent cheekbones, chiseled, square jaw, long, almond-shaped eyes with a mass of thick black lashes, and full, wide lips that brought to mind the word sinful.

  I placed the tip of my pinkie finger over the round chickenpox scar above his eye. When we were teens, he got the occasional pimple or two, but puberty passed over him with grace and broad strokes that created an almost flawless man. Tall, lean and muscled with a cocky confidence and a disposition of equal parts seriousness and humor. I knew he had a temper and sometimes a short fuse. He could be arrogant and impulsive. He could also be funny and self-deprecating, kind and brave, loyal and big-hearted.

  Even though nine years had passed apart, it didn’t seem like I’d missed a minute. I could be waking up outside in a tent in his backyard and be nine-years-old again. He was Derek—my Derek—and I wouldn’t lose him again.

  I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. We all had imperfections and regrets from our past. The wound he inflicted was still sore inside me, but he didn’t intend it and in time I’d find a way to get past it. I wasn’t even sure he had to know. I only hoped he’d grown up and wouldn’t hurt me again.

  “See anything you like?” he asked, his eyes still closed, but a grin spreading on his lips.

  “Not without my glasses,” I teased and dove in to pepper his face with kisses.

  Laughing, he grabbed me and rolled onto his back pulling me on top of him. “Good morning.” He ran his hands down my back onto my butt and pressed me against his hard cock. “I was dreaming about you. Naked. With my guitar.”

  I kissed behind his ear and down his neck. “What was I doing with your guitar, or do I even want to ask?”

  “Sitting on my lap and holding it while I played—it and you.” He squeezed my butt, grinding into me.

  “I can’t believe you made it all night without doing this.” I nipped his shoulder and licked up the side of his neck.

  “Doing what? I’m not doing anything.” He sat us up and whipped my shirt off over my head.

  “I’m not liking it either,” I said on a gasp as his mouth found my nipple through my bra.

  “I definitely don’t want you naked.” His hand rubbed between my legs. My thin leggings and satin thong weren’t much of a barrier, but too much just the same.

  I grabbed his cock through his jeans. “I’m so glad you slept with these on. I wouldn’t want this monster too close to me.”

  “Especially not inside you,” he said and licked my bottom lip. “That would suck.”

  “Suck hard.” I stroked him fast, the friction of his jeans heating my palm while his hand rubbed up and down over my pussy, keeping time with me.

  I got to my knees and rocked my hips against his hand, massaging his balls while I stroked. His free hand cupped my breast, his thumb flicked over my nipple, hard inside my bra. Our lips barely met. We breathed and panted into each other’s mouths, letting our tongues touch and tease.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing,” he said, his voice almost a growl.

  “Your hand on the outside of my pants couldn’t feel any worse.” I moaned, so hot my legs shook.

  I leaned my forehead against his, both of us lost in our quest for release. Our heavy breathing filled my ears, his musky morning scent surrounded me and his hands drove me toward oblivion.

  The heat overtook me. My head fell forward onto his shoulder as my muscles clenched and my pussy pulsed. I whimpered and felt Derek’s shoulder stiffen under me. His breathing hitched and he clenched my hips while I pumped my hand up and down, never letting up.

  He groaned and pulled me to him, kissing me relentlessly while he came. I threaded my fingers through his hair and took his upper lip between mine, then his bottom, sucking and licking, loving every second of letting myself have this man.

  “That was a fucking awful way to wake up,” he said between kisses.

  “I hope it never happens again.” I pushed him backward and laid on his chest.

  He pinched my butt. “Plans for today?”

  “None. You”

  “Let’s see. Wake up beside you—check. Make you come—check. Do it again—when should I schedule that?”

  My stomach growled. “How about after breakfast.”

  He sat up part way, leaning on his elbows and staring down at me. “Do not tell me you want pancakes.”

  I started laughing and he put a finger to his lips, shushing me. “Let’s get out of here before she wakes up,” I said, sitting up. “We can go to that place on the beach with those huge Bloody Mary’s.”

  Derek reached over and grabbed my glasses off the nightstand. “I didn’t know I was getting involved with an alcoholic sex fiend. You should’ve written a shit review of my music a long time ago.”

  I took my glasses and put them on. “I didn’t know how good your finger work was or I would have.”

  “The things you say.” He took my bottom lip between his finger and thumb and led me to his mouth for another kiss. His tongue swept across mine and retreated, leaving his lips to knead mine. “Honestly,” he said, trailing kisses across my cheek. “I can’t fucking believe how lucky I am that you’re here.”

  “Somebody had to save you from your parents.”

  “True. I owe you big.”

  “Yes,” I said, standing and tugging him to his feet, “you do. A big Bloody Mary and an omelet. So, get that sweet ass into the shower and meet me in an hour.”

  “Sweet ass, huh?” He followed me to the bedroom door. “Are you going to risk running into Bob and Kate? Dad wears his boxers to the breakfast table and they normally gap open in front. Take this as a warning.”

  “It’s that or sneak back out the window like a groupie doing the walk of shame. Which would you rather have me do?” I raised my eyebrows. “Girlfriend or groupie?”

  He cocked his eyebrows right back at me and swung the door open. “Mom! Bess is leaving!”
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  “So what?” My dad yelled. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “You’re always welcome, Dear!” Mom called. “I’ll tell your mother you said, hello!”

  “I’m sure she will,” I whispered, rolling my eyes at Derek.

  “You should probably let all your calls go to voicemail today.” He held my hand and walked me through the house to the front door. “See you in an hour.”

  After two quick kisses and being pulled back for a third and fourth, I trotted out into the bright Santa Cruz sun and for the first time ever, ran across our yards as Derek’s girlfriend.

  Ten

  Derek

  We sat on the deck at the Blue Oyster, a bar on the beach that only closed for four hours between two-thirty A.M. and six-thirty A.M. Most of the weekend partiers hung out on the beach during the closed hours and came back in—still drunk—for breakfast.

  I wore a fisherman style hat I found in our front closet with the front brim turned up and sunglasses, left the stubble on my face and threw on a white t-shirt, a pair of my dad’s plaid Bermuda shorts and flip flops. If anyone could guess it was me, they deserved to find me.

  “I don’t know,” Bess said, crunching on a piece of celery from her Bloody Mary, “I kind of like the new look.”

  I glanced down at my loud shorts and back up at her. “You might need a new prescription in those glasses.”

  She licked the side of the celery stalk, catching a drip of her drink on her tongue. My dick twitched. “I think it’s sexy,” she said.

  “You have an old man fetish, don’t you?”

  She licked her celery again, then bit the tip off. “I need to do some work today. Anything you want me to report about your career trajectory?”

  I sat up a little straighter. She wouldn’t spill any info about me that I didn’t want out. I shouldn’t have the pang of anxiety sitting like an eight ball in my chest. “No.”

  She nodded, turning her eyes out to the beach, and sipped her drink. Was that disappointment I detected?