Page 51 of Taming His Rockstar

Chapter 26

Iwatch Jake trudge naked out of the bathroom and join me on the bed. He immediately pulls me to his body and curves his body around me.

“You okay?”

I nod my head and lean up to kiss his cheek. We are in a hotel room because the paparazzi are staking both his house and mine. He brought up the idea to meet in this hotel room, and I burst into laughter when I walked into the room and found him wearing the most ridiculous disguise I’ve ever seen. The mustache was obviously fake, and I doubt anyone would think the blond wig on his head was his. When I asked if that was how he’d escaped the paparazzi, he said he sneaked out the back of his house and only bought the disguise because he knew it would make me laugh. And it did. Then he gave me a look that made me stop laughing. We didn’t even make it to the bed for my first or second orgasm. Considering it’s almost a week since I’ve seen him, my hunger is more than justified. With all the attention we’re getting, we only speak on the phone and make video calls, and while phone sex with Jake is amazing, it doesn’t compare to the feel of the man himself inside me.

Now that my hunger is sated, I’m thinking rationally again, and I have to find out how he’s dealing with the situation.

“How about you? How are you coping?” I push myself up on one elbow. “I know having to deal with the paparazzi can be annoying at times.”

He shrugs, those powerful shoulders moving under my body.

“It can be irritating sometimes, I guess. But I don’t really mind. Besides, I’ve got ways of avoiding them if I want to.”

“Then you must let me know what your secret is then? I need to find ways to throw them off my scent.” He chuckles, and I smile with him. “I’m really sorry for everything. I know you like your privacy, and I’ve ruined that.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I did,” I insist. “If it were anyone else, the press wouldn’t be disturbing you over something that is none of their business.”

“But I’m not with anyone else, am I?” He lifts my chin with a finger so he can look into my eyes. “I’m with you, and I’m not complaining.”

I check and make sure he’s not just saying that for my benefit, and when I’m sure, I lean back.

“They are just horrible, those paparazzi. They feel like they have every right to dig into your life all because you’re famous.”

“You’re the famous one,” he says, seemingly not as worried as I am.

“Jane said we have to release a statement if we want it to stop. Go out and tell them that we are nothing but friends, and there is nothing between us.”

He chuckles. “I must be a very close friend since they have a picture of me kissing you. That, or I’m gay, and that’s our version of a secret handshake.”

“What do you suggest we do then? If we don’t put our own story, then everyone would keep on assuming we’re in a relationship.”

“And are they wrong?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“Mention one thing people in relationships do that we haven’t done?”

His question confuses me, especially when I try and realize I can come up with nothing.

“We don’t go on dates,” I finally reply, pointing at him triumphantly.

“Maybe not in a restaurant. But we’ve been to the club. I’ve cooked for you, and you’ve ordered takeout for me. How many times have we sat at a table with good food and had a nice time? I even remember a candlelight dinner once.”

I remember that candlelight dinner too, because when the candle was about a quarter to go, he put me on that table and told me I wasn’t allowed to come until the light went out. I happily failed that test by less than an inch. But he was right; we’ve had some meetings that technically could be called dates.

“You never asked me out officially,” I try again, a little weakly this time.

“Didn’t see the need to ask for something I already had.” He pushes himself up and sits with his back leaning against the headboard of the bed. “Look, we’ll tell the press or media whatever you want. I’m just tired of hearing you saying we don’t have a relationship. It may not fit perfectly with what you call a relationship, but it is one.”

I shake my head. “I thought we were just hooking up. You never said anything about this being more than that.”

“Because considering how much you like to tell me that this is just a hookup, I felt you needed to believe that to be with me.” He shrugs. “I don’t put too much stock in labels. What I care about is the action, and as long as I am with you, then you can call it what you want.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “No. Are you saying we’ve been in a relationship all this time and I didn’t know?”

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