Page 83 of Wicked Rockstar

I’d never been this sexually frustrated in my life.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

TRISSA

Ileaned my head against the cool passenger side window, enjoying the cold that seeped into my skin and eased my throbbing head. The city flew past as Jacquie, my new driver—and if I was guessing correctly, my new secret bodyguard—expertly handled the curves.

Killian had kept his word and hired me a driver that gave off tough girl vibes. It was in her confident stride and the way her eyes tracked any movement that led me to believe she might be more than ‘just my driver.’

She even checked the undercarriage of my car.

I laughed and then immediately regretted it. Jacquie’s scowly frown at my reaction made me snap my mouth shut. Even though she was shorter than me by a good few inches, Jacquie’s presence alone and muscled physique was intimidating and I didn’t want to be the one to piss her off.

I wasnotfamous like Killian or Peter. The likelihood of someone coming after me was slimmer than me winning the lottery and finding a unicorn in my living room, but I stayed silent after that. She had a job to do, and I had to respect it.

And Killian … I was still trying to wrap my brain around last night.

He and I kissed. Not a cutesy little peck. A full-on mind-melting, searing-with-heat-of-a-thousand-suns kiss.

The best and worst part of it? I didn’t hate it. In fact, I’d been seriously disappointed when he stopped. Until now, I’d never thought twice about being romantic with him.

Sure, Killian was hot. He had that broody rocker thing down even as a teenager. All the girls at school were jealous of my friendship with both him and Peter, but I’d never seen him as anything more than my best friend.

But now?

The butterflies and bursts of excitement I’d felt around Peter seemed lukewarm in comparison to how I was beginning to feel about Killian, and I didn’t know what to do about that.

What if this physical side and the burgeoning attraction was because I couldn’t separate what we were doing with real life? I’d never dated anyone, fake or otherwise, that I wasn’t hoping for a long-term commitment with. How was I supposed to keep my feelings separate when we were full-on pretending?

And if I was feeling this way, how was Killian dealing with it? Did he have any of the same thoughts I did? Or was he just compartmentalizing it as nothing? Maybe I was no different than the various women in his life that he’d discarded when he was done with them?

I didn’t want him to think about being done with me.

I rubbed my temples. All these crazy thoughts were making my head hurt. More than likely, this fake relationship was a blip on his radar. His good deed for the year. Because if Killian had any romantic feelings for me, he’d never have agreed to be my love coach in the first place.

Right?

With my brain not knowing what to do with these heavy thoughts, the silence in the car was getting to me. “What will you do while I’m at work?” I asked Jacquie.

“I’ll be close to the building in case you need anything,” she said as she merged into traffic.

I drummed my fingers on my thigh. “What if you need to use the bathroom or eat?” How was I supposed to handle her being with me? I’d invite her up to Peter’s penthouse, but I didn’t want to have to deal with his questions. I wasn’t ready to rock the boat with him just yet.

She chuckled. “I’m a big girl. I think I can figure something out.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to act in this situation.”

Jacquie side-eyed me. Her tawny brown eyes twinkled with inner mirth. “Situation?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You and I both know you’re not just my driver.”

She shrugged, which was confirmation enough.

Killian had left before I woke up and sent me a text to expect Jacquie. What I didn’t know was that she’d been silently waiting outside my door while I got ready for the day. I’d felt awful and apologized about a hundred times since then, and had asked her to knock next time. She’d told me I wasn’t responsible for her choices. Oddly enough, it felt like she was imparting an underlying message in regards to the rest of my life.

We pulled up to Peter’s building. “Should you come upstairs with me?” I chewed at my bottom lip. As much as I’d protested having a bodyguard 24/7, here we were, and it seemed cruel to make her sit in the car all day.

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