Page 20 of How to Love a Rockstar

He nods to Jett who taps his sticks to count us off. As I play, my gaze finds Virginia’s and I wink. She rolls her eyes and I grin.

We play five songs, and I maintain eye contact with Virginia the entire time. She’ll probably deny it to her dying day but her cheeks are flushed with excitement. I watch as she pushes her eyeglasses up. It’s adorable the way those glasses glide down her nose only to be stopped by her time and time again.

I never thought a girl wearing glasses was sexy before. I was wrong. I have an entire playbook of sexy librarian ideas I can’t wait to try out with Virginia. Those straight skirts and shirts buttoned to her neck along with her hair piled high on her head are my kryptonite. I want to dirty her up.

“We’re going to take a small break,” Cash announces.

The second the music stops, Virginia takes off. She makes a beeline for the front door but the crowd presses against her to prevent her from reaching her goal. I drop my guitar when I notice her wrap her arms around her waist. She’s getting flustered. Not okay. She should only be flustered when I’m involved.

I jump from the stage to rescue her but she’s already pivoted toward the rear hallway and is hurrying to the exit.

“Virginia, hold up!”

She ignores me and keeps moving. My long legs eat up the distance between us. I clasp her shoulder and whirl her around.

“Hey, Virginia.” I smile at her in greeting.

“I’m going home.”

I can’t resist the temptation of her long, elegant neck. I rub circles on her skin with my thumb. It’s as soft as I thought it would be. I bet all of her skin is soft.

She gasps and hope sparks inside of me.

“You feel it, too.”

She wrenches away from me. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

I smirk. “A challenge? I do love a challenge.”

“I am not a challenge. I am a woman.”

Crap. I said the wrong thing. She probably thinks I view all women as challenges. She’d laugh if she knew how few women I’ve slept with over the years. Unlike Gibson, I don’t enjoy screwing women who want me just because I’m a rockstar.

I hold up my hands. “I didn’t—”

She pokes me in the chest. “You view women as a competition you’re determined to win. Women aren’t games.”

“You have the wrong opinion of me. I’m not Jett who treats sex like a drug or Gibson who gets a kick out of charming a woman into bed.” And, frankly, I’m a bit hurt she believes otherwise. “I thought we were past this. I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” She huffs. “I’m leaving.”

She whirls around but I’m not letting her go until she understands I’m not a manwhore the way my bandmates are. I shackle her wrist to stop her.

She wrenches her hand free. “Do not touch me without my permission.”

I immediately retreat a step. I have four younger sisters. I know better than to touch a woman without her permission. “Sorry. It was a mistake.” She glares a me and I continue, “I wanted to get a chance to ask you out before you go home.”

“Buy a clue, Dylan! I will never go out with you!”

What the hell? I thought we were making progress. We had pizza together the other night and it was nice. We chatted and joked before she fell asleep during the movie. I wanted to pick her up and carry her to her bedroom, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to overstep my bounds. Which is also why I didn’t ask her out that night.

Virginia spins around and stomps to the exit. I catch the door before it can slam shut. She glances over her shoulder at me and scowls.

“Leave me alone!”

I wish I could say I’ll leave her alone, but I can’t. I have four sisters and a mom. They would light my favorite guitar on fire if they knew I let a woman walk home alone when she’s spitting mad. Although, they’d probably destroy my guitar anyway if they knew I was the reason the woman is spitting mad.

“I’m not letting you walk home alone and angry.”

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