Page 27 of Lucky Dr & the Rockstar Next Door

“You’re already so wet for me. You need this, need me to help you sleep.”

He was right; I did. “Yes.” The word came out over and over, like a song.

“You feel so fucking good, Kayla, like you were made just for me.” He grunted as he pushed into my body, a long, slow stroke that stole my breath. My voice. “Fuck, babe.”

His words were perfect—sweet and growly—but so damn confusing because the way we came together just now wasn’t just sex; it wasn’t fucking. It was making love. It was slow and intense; every stroke sent a bolt through me, and it was desire of a different kind. Desire to have him for more than just onenight, for more than this brief time between tours and recording studios. “Mac, please.”

He took his time, savoring every thrust as if each one were his last. From this angle, he was able to sink deeper than ever, and too soon I was coming apart and clenching around him until stars exploded behind my eyes. “Oh fuck, Kayla!”

I smiled through the orgasm, loving how he kissed my neck and shoulders as he pounded into me while chasing his own release. “Mac!” My orgasm came fast and hard; Mac’s arms held me through it while his cock sought pleasure deep inside me. “Oh god, Mac,” I shouted as another wave of pleasure surged forward.

His own pleasure came right on the heels of mine, and his body jerked, pushing him deeper into me. “Perfect,” he growled in my ear. “You are fucking perfect, Kayla.”

When he said it, I felt perfect.

The orgasms were so powerful that we fell asleep with our bodies still connected, his arms around me, my hands on top of his.

A smile on my face.

15MAC

“Why did I volunteer to do this again?” Kayla wiped the sweat from her brow, looking adorably disheveled after spending all morning on our float for the St. Patrick’s Day parade.

“Love of community? Small-town shenanigans?” I laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Or to spend more time with your favorite rock star?”

“If I weren’t so well-rested, I’d be a lot grumpier right now,” she muttered more to herself than to me.

“That sounds like anothermething.” I flashed a grin and took in our progress so far. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

She laughed. “This is Holiday Grove, not the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, Mac.”

Good point. “Still, I thought it would take weeks to do.” Maybe I was just hoping.

Kayla let out a snort-laugh. “Then why didn’t we start sooner?”

“Poor planning?” I licked my lips and pushed off the wall, capping my water bottle so we could get back to work. It wasn’t a big float, but it would take all day to finish, maybe some of tomorrow.

“Where are all of your people?” she asked with a teasing smile. “I thought people like you hadpeople.Assistants and secretaries and builders?”

“So you want me to make mypeoplebuild the float that you volunteered us to do?”

She pulled her lush lips into her mouth to hide a smile. “No?”

“Good answer.” Since she’d brought up my life as a famous musician, it was the perfect time to ask her a similar question. “Are you mad about the press? I mean, of course you’re mad. Hell, I’m always mad about those vultures, but are you pissed?” My biggest fear was that I was falling for the one woman on the planet who didn’t see my fame as a good thing.

Kayla thought about the question for a full minute before her gaze met mine over the sea of green and gold tissue paper. “I don’t love it, but I suppose it comes with dating someone as famous as you are.”

Her words made me feel good. Damn good. “Are we dating?” We hadn’t put a label on things between us, but itfeltlike dating.

Kayla smiled as if she knew I was deflecting. “Well, let’s see. If we’re dating, then I’d say the disadvantages of the press are nothing compared to the advantages of being with you. If not, I’m not going to turn my life upside down for sex. Not even great sex.” She licked her lips. “I mean, I don’t think I would.” She held my gaze for a long time, trying to suppress a laugh.

I broke first, bending over to bark out a loud laugh. I loved that honest assessment, and truthfully, it made me feel worthy of her, hearing her say that being with me was worth dealing with the shitty press. “You like me.”

“Get back to work, rock star, or we’ll be here all night.” Her words were stern, but her smile was hot and sweet all at once.

We worked together for hours, painting and gluing and setting the stage for our small part in the parade. We talked andlaughed the entire time, which was unusual for me. “I’ve never been in a parade before.”

“Me neither,” she shot back. “I’ve also never been on stage before, not unless you count that one time I had to do a case for an M&M Conference.” She took on a haunted look and quickly shook it off. “Not the same, trust me.”

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