Page 91 of Rockstar Next Door Neighbor

“I’d learn for you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” I stretch up to kiss him softly. “And I wouldn’t want you to. Your music is part of who you are, Luke. I like all of you, not just the parts that fit into a quiet cabin in the woods.”

He pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair. “When did you get to be so wise?”

His kiss starts off slow but deepens into that now-familiar passion. When he pulls back, he smiles at me.

“Let’s make this a night to remember.” He leans down, sweeps me up in his arms, and carries me into the bedroom. He makes mad, passionate love to me until I call out his name in my climax. Holding him while he follows me over that sharp edge of desire.

Lying in bed, I watch Luke sleeping peacefully beside me. In the pale moonlight filtering through the window, he looksyounger, unburdened. Here, he’s just been Luke—my Luke. Not Luke Sterling, the famous Wild Band keyboard player.

He’s such a talented musician—but there’s so much more to him. More than I ever dreamed.

Luke’s a fascinating blend of contradictions: sweet yet sexy, arrogant yet humble. He can effortlessly rock a tux at a gala yet feels completely at ease having a picnic or cooking in a rustic kitchen. He’s accustomed to the luxury of a limo but equally comfortable behind the wheel of his Jeep. He can fit in anywhere.

Tomorrow, we head back to reality, and I wonder if I’m ready for what that means. It’s one thing to promise, that I can handle the pressure of dating a rockstar. It’s another thing to actually live it. The thought of the lack of privacy and the social media speculation are daunting. Will I still be able to run my business when every client knows I’m Luke Sterling’s girlfriend? And what about when he’s touring? The thought of being separated for weeks or months at a time makes my chest tight.

But then Luke shifts in his sleep, reaching for me even in his dreams, and I know deep in my bones that he’s worth any amount of scrutiny.

Next weekend, I’ll go with him for an overnight trip to Tampa for a performance. Just one night, he said, to see how it feels. To dip my toe in the water before diving into the deep end. The thought both terrifies and excites me. I want to see him in his element, and I want to understand that part of his world. And if I can handle that small taste of his life on the road, I’ll know for sure that I can handle everything else.

Rolling onto my side, I trace my fingers lightly over his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath my palm. The truth is, I’m already in too deep to turn back now.

We’ll figure out the rest together, one day at a time.

Luke stirs, catching my hand and bringing it to his lips without opening his eyes. “I can hear you thinking,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Sorry,” I whisper, then I get an idea. “Hey, would you like some pancakes?”

“At this hour? It’s midnight.”

“Is that a no?”

“Of course not. It’s more like a hell yeah,” Luke says as he rollsout of bed.

After fifteen minutes of cooking in the kitchen, we carry the finished pancakes back to bed. Sitting naked on the bed, we feed each other bites, in between kisses, the taste of sweet maple syrup on our lips—and we make love again.

Afterward, with Luke’s arms holding me close, I know in my heart that we have something special—something real.

Thirty

Luke

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a relentless pulse of energy that rattles through the walls of the amphitheater in Tampa Bay. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, adrenaline, and anticipation—thousands of voices chanting, screaming, demanding the music.

I roll my shoulders, exhaling slowly as I grip my keyboard, fingers hovering over the keys. The lights are low now. The arena shrouded in darkness except for the glow of phone screens and the stage lights flashing in tempo with the drumbeat that signals our entrance.

Thismoment, right before we step into the light, is always electric. Always exhilarating.

But tonight, there’s something else humming beneath my skin.

Lila. She’s here. She’s watching.

And just knowing she’s backstage, standing only feet away from me, is a distraction—a wonderful, dangerous distraction.

She’s standing off to the side with Emily, wearing all-access credentials and an outfit that shows off her generous curves and makes my heart thud loudly in my chest. Our eyes meet across the crowded space, and she mouths, “Good luck,” with a smile that takes me right back to that cabin in the woods.

The cabin—Just thinking about it brings a wave of peace. The morning, we left, watching the sun rise over the trees one last time, I’d made her a promise. “When it gets too much,” I’d told her, holding her close, “when we need to escape, we’ll come back here. Just us.” The way she’d melted into my arms made it clear she needed to hear those words as much as I needed to say them.

---