Page 34 of Rock Star

My heart was breaking for Axel. “I’m here for you, honey. That’s what friends are for.”

“Friends?” The creases in his brow deepened. “I hope we’re more than that.”

Without waiting for a response from me, he got to his feet and went to pick up his guitar. Standing in the center of the room, he started strumming.I saw you across the room

And I wanted to say hi

But you’re like an enchanted bird

A goddess from the sky

You fly like an angel

In a magical moonbeam

And I’m a mere mortal

Living in a dream.

Ah. Ah. Ah.

Baby, all the barriers I put between us

Will fall if you just say the word.

I know I’m not worthy.

I’m so fucking unworthy,

I want to be worthy.

I want you to love me.

But you’re an enchanted bird.

A goddess from the sky.

And I’m a mere mortal

Living in a dream.“Oh, wow, Axel,” I clapped my hands. “That’s so beautiful. I love it.”

“See how you inspire me?” He cocked his head to the side. “It needs more work, of course. Layering up with the guys before we go into the studio.”

“Well I think it’s just perfect.” And I did. It had a rawness to it that spoke to my soul.

He put down his guitar and came up to me. Ran a finger down my cheek. “I want to take you on a date tonight, Firebird. We’ll tell everyone I need to experience Paris by night as inspiration for a song. What do you say?”

I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, pretending to think about his proposal.

But I didn’t need to think.

Not for one second.

I’d just been serenaded by Axel Wainwright.

He’d written a song inspired by my name.

How could I refuse him?

I didn’t even want to refuse him.

“I’d love that,” I said.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Good. Now we need to work on a riff about a girl who avoids walking on the cracks in pavements and has a pathological fear of thunderstorms.” His breath was shallow and warm against the shell of my ear. “That one’s proving a tad more difficult to write.”

“Let’s do it then,” I said, although I had no clue what it would involve. I was excited to learn, however.

And I was even more excited about going out on a date with Axel tonight.16“Where are we headed?” I asked Axel as he helped me into the back seat of a chauffeur-driven Renault SUV after our song writing session. We’d taken a quick shower in our separate suites, followed by a change of clothes. He’d said to dress casually—he hadn’t wanted us to draw too much attention to ourselves—so, I’d put on the pair of designer jeans Hayley had bought me in Barcelona, and a gorgeous white cotton embroidered blouse. I’d left my face free of makeup except for lip gloss and a touch of mascara… Axel had said he liked me like that.

“Thought we’d go to Montmartre.” He sat next to me in the seat behind where Mike was riding shotgun. “It’s the most romantic part of Paris.”

He held my hand and I stared out at the busy streets. I was starting to learn that Axel was, indeed, romantic.

A poet at heart.

“A good song writer draws on life experience and what he feels in his soul,” he’d explained earlier while noodling on his guitar. “My songs evolve organically. They start with an idea. The music comes to me and then the words.”

Of course, he was romantic. He wrote songs about love, mostly. I wondered how many times he’d been in love before. The thought pierced me, panged in my gut with a sharp pain.

Silly.

I was being silly.

Even if I had fallen for him, he wouldn’t have fallen for me. Not in the same heart-wrenching way that was turning my life upside-down. He’d probably fallen in and out of love hundreds, if not thousands of times. I’d only done so once before, and, compared with how I was feeling now, my so-called love for Zander, my ex, had been lukewarm.

The relentless heat between my legs when I was with Axel made me want him to own me.

Made me want him to love me, despite myself.

This wasn’t part of my future plans and it was tearing me in two.

I focused on looking out the window. There seemed to be a café on every corner, and the architecture! Just, wow! We were driving past the white domes of a beautiful old church, lit up by spotlights.

“The Sacré Coeur,” Axel pointed out.

Then, in complete contrast, we passed the gaudy red lights and windmill of the Moulin Rouge, and I let out a gasp. “I can’t believe I’m actually here, seeing this.”

“Believe it, baby,” he squeezed my fingers. “This is just the start.”

“The start?”

“I’m going to take you on a date in every city of the tour, show you the sights.”

I melded into his side, needing him to kiss me, but we’d already pulled up at our destination.

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