Page 7 of Rock Strong

And dreaming about how sexy he was. How sexy he made me feel.

Last night, remembering what Tucker had said about me resembling the happy-endings massage girl, I’d tossed and turned long after Rosemary had fallen asleep, unable to get rid of the image of me and Liam together, and me, well…making him happy. It had been far too easy to conjure a wordless fantasy of him on a massage table, big and brawny and buck naked except for a cute little towel slung over his muscular butt.

I’d seen it all in Blu-ray clarity and intense Technicolor, despite the fact I’d never in my life given anyone a massage.

A drizzle of oil down his spine for starters. Then my hands spreading it around, rubbing away all resistance. Short strokes first, to ease tension in his broad shoulders and neck. He’d be resting his forehead on his folded hands, allowing me to massage his nape and up around his ears. A little tugging and pulling on his earlobes would make him hide a smile of pleasure at the highly sexualized caress. With no sex on offer. Not until I was ready.

Then long strokes over his back, from spine to his sides, moving steadily down his body and up again to his shoulders. I would enjoy watching him adjust his position, rocking a little to make room for his growing erection.

And then I’d move on to his ass, which my oiled hands would caress and rub, pushing him down into the padded table with every stroke. He’d get a sex flush that I’d see even from the back, a wave of heat in his mostly concealed face that spread to his neck.

Mmmm. Gleaming skin and all that male muscle on display. Super hot.

And then I would say… Now for your legs.

Which he would part slightly, not able to sprawl on the narrow massage table. Maybe a few more downward pushes on his buttocks while his legs were spread. Digging my nails into the oiled skin to let him know I was the boss.

He would enjoy what I was doing too much to roll over, though he would be fighting for self-control. He would strain and hold on to the table, forced by sheer pleasure to stay still, his gasp encouraging me to continue the delicately erotic torment. I’d run my hands over his back and ass and thighs, until I felt like sliding them around his sides and into his taut groin, making him tremble. And groan. His hair would be damp with sweat when I strolled around to the front of the table and made him kiss me. He would do anything I asked. Because he was about to come and…

“Abby? Abby!”

I jerked, my face flaming as the torrid fantasy dispersed into the air like a puff of smoke. Horrified, I blinked rapidly, licked my lips, and struggled to remember what Rosemary and I had been talking about even as she side-glanced at me knowingly. I cleared my throat, striving to sound cool and composed despite how hot and bothered I felt. “Um, yeah. Liam Collier talked to me for a bit. Are you mad about that?” I loosened my strings to adjust the bridge of my instrument, which had shifted since yesterday. Yeah, my hands were shaking a little, but I shifted my body slightly in the hope Rosemary wouldn’t notice. “What’s the big deal?”

For a second, Rosemary looked suspicious, then she blew out an exasperated breath. “Just the way he looked at you, Abby. I watched from a distance. He was into you. And no, I’m not mad. Just super envious. That was LIAM COLLIER!”

Yes, Liam Collier, who was sexy, and gallant, and whose naked butt I’d been pawing at just a moment ago, if only in my head. To Rosemary, I just said, “So? Liam Collier who walks and talks like anyone else. Who uses the bathroom like anyone else,” I said, giving a mental fist pump at how convincingly casual I sounded.

“Who graces the cover of Rolling Stone and wins Best Rock Performance at the Grammy’s, like anyone else?” She tilted her violin like a ukulele and pizzicato’d the C major scale in a fast frenzy. “The whole thing was just surreal, that’s all.”

“Well, we do work for him. We were bound to run into each other and strike up a conversation at some point. Kind of hard not to. Besides…he was kind of…”

“What?” Rosemary tapped her short nails on the fingerboard.

I hesitated for a second, then said, “Normal.” It was true. As sexy and larger-than-life as Liam Collier was, he’d also seemed relatable. Down-to-earth. For a rock god, that was saying something, and it was probably the only reason I’d been giving him as much mental time as I had. I was intrigued by his complexity. By the tension between his celebrity status and his unassuming charm.

“Really? I heard he’s elusive,” Rosemary said. “Even for rehearsals, like yesterday…which he missed.”

“Maybe he saves his energy for his shows. I’m sure his act is all drama and little real vocals.” But even as I said it, I didn’t believe it. The man I’d met last night? I couldn’t imagine him being anything but superbly talented in anything he chose to pursue.

“You’ve never heard any of their songs? Never heard the man sing at all?”

Other than playing the two songs during rehearsals, I hadn’t. And I’d never been tempted to listen to Point Break’s other songs until last night. After the party, I’d had to force myself not to pull up a Point Break playlist. His voice had been so lovely just talking to him, and since I knew the melody of the ballads he sang… Well, let’s just say I didn’t need the sound of his voice, all sultry and lovelorn, echoing in my ears as an accompaniment to the slide show of sexy images I’d already stored away and played over and over again in my dirty little head. Of course, I wasn’t willing to admit any of this to Rosemary. “He’s a rock star, Rose. I’m sure most of what he does is scream into a microphone.”

“Abby…” Her eyelids fell to half-mast. “Not all rock singers scream. Liam actually has a pretty decent voice. You should’ve done a little more homework on him.”

“Josh Groban sings. Placido Domingo sings. Jussi Björling sings. What Liam Collier probably does is create smoke and mirrors with theatrics,” I said, remembering his punk cowboy attire at the party last night and how he wore it well. Oh, so well.

Rosemary shoved her violin’s chin rest against her neck. “Still. Doesn’t excuse the fact that the only Point Break songs you’ve heard are the ones we’ve already rehearsed. Not when you’re going on tour with them. Today, I might add.”

“I’ve been busy.” I sighed. But I had a feeling that before the day was over, I would have given in and listened to some of Liam’s songs. I was too curious. Too tempted to have an audio soundtrack to go along with my fantasies of him. They were just fantasies, after all. No harm in fantasies so long as I kept my head about me, which I was definitely going to do. It wasn’t as if Liam Collier would ever be interested in someone like me, anyway. Not with the bevy of bikini goddesses he had at his disposal twenty-four seven. “Can you pass me the rosin? Look, I’m not trying to disrespect the band. I’m just saying, the average consumer of rock music wouldn’t know a singer from an actor, a cellist from a flautist. All they care about is eye candy. A few well-placed tattoos, a couple piercings, a brooding demeanor…and poof—famous. Meanwhile, real musicians like us have to work twice as hard for a fraction of the pay. We should be the ones making the big bucks.”

“Listen to you!” Rosemary tossed me the rosin. “Last time I checked, you played the cello for the love of music, not because you wanted to make big bucks.”

I clamped my mouth shut. That was true. I would be completely content with a small Manhattan apartment, performing at Avery Fisher Hall, making tiramisu on weekends, and playing at my friends’ weddings. I would call that a full life. So why did I feel so envious? Why did the thought of Liam passing me over make my heart hurt?

“Did you like the house last night?” she asked.

I was grateful for the slight change in subject. “The party wasn’t my thing.”

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