Page 35 of Rock Star

Mike leapt out of the car and opened our doors.

“I’ve arranged a private spot for us, away from prying eyes.” Axel took my hand. “This isn’t a posh place, but I think you’ll like it.”

We walked into the prettiest greenhouse at the back of the restaurant, complete with chairs colored the deepest of reds. Shielded from the view of curious fellow patrons by thick greenery, our table was waiting for us.

“Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” our server said. “What can I get you to drink?”

Axel glanced at me. “Would you like some champagne?”

I remembered getting drunk on that Prosecco in Milan. “Just a glass.”

“We’ll have a bottle of Dom Pérignon,” he told the waiter.

I tried to understand what was written in French on the menu. Such a sexy language to listen to, but impossible to read. “What do you recommend?” I asked Axel, not wanting to show my ignorance.

“You can never go wrong with steak, salad and chips in France,” he said.

“Medium rare for me, then.”

Our waiter reappeared with the champagne, popped the cork, and poured a little into a glass for Axel to taste. He gave his approval and placed our order.

“Cheers, Firebird. Here’s to us!”

We clinked glasses and I took a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose.

“Where’s Mike?” I inquired.

“Enjoying a slap-up meal in the front part of the restaurant with our driver.” Axel took my hand.

“This place is perfect,” I said, smiling at him. “How did you know about it?”

Please, don’t tell me you’ve been here before with another woman.

“I found it online, like anyone else,” he smirked. “But I wouldn’t have made reservations if we couldn’t have gotten this table.”

“You are so getting laid tonight,” I blurted out. “Oops,” I blushed and covered my mouth with my hand. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Ha,” he smirked. “I’m glad you did, because I was kind of counting on it.”

We laughed together and it felt so free and easy.

It felt right.

We chatted about what there was to see in the cities we would visit during the rest of the tour until our food arrived. The steak was tender and delicious. ‘Chips’, I discovered, were what Axel called ‘fries’, and we fed them to each other across the red and white checked tablecloth.

I had more than one glass of champagne. Not enough to get drunk, but enough to relax my inhibitions. After we’d finished eating and Axel had settled the check, we left the restaurant with our arms around each other to return to the hotel.We had to circle round to the back of the building when we arrived. Word must have gotten out that ChiMera were staying here… there were fans and paps blocking the entrance.

“Normally, I’d go say hi,” Axel tucked me into his side behind the heavily tinted windows. “But not tonight.” His smile was wolfish. “Tonight, I have other plans.”

We rode the elevator up from the basement. “Your suite or mine?” He repeated the question he’d asked in Barcelona. Had it really only been three days ago?

“Mine,” I answered like I did last time, using the same excuse that my room was so pretty. But, to be honest, I wanted to avoid the walk of shame in the early hours of tomorrow morning.

I tapped the keycard on the reader and opened the door. As soon as we stepped inside, he pressed me up against the wall. “I’ve been wanting to do this for the past couple hours,” he growled, reaching for my wrists and lifting them above my head.

My purse fell down my arm and hung on my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I stuttered.

He silenced me with a hard, possessive kiss. “Claiming you as mine.” He ran his lips down my neck.

My hands were still pinned to the wall above my head, and it was hot.

Freaking hot.

He bit down, then sucked away the sting.

I wrapped one leg around his hip and dragged him against me, curving my body.

He kissed me again, even harder. He tasted of sweet champagne and Axel.

With a groan, he released my hands. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

I let my purse fall to the floor and wound my arms round his neck, holding him tight. “So are you.” I slid my fingers into the hair at his nape.

He clutched my ass and thrust his tongue into my mouth, grinding the bulge in his jeans into me. “I want you, baby.”

“I want you too.” I dropped my hand and caressed his chest through his dress shirt.

It wasn’t enough, so I grabbed a fistful of the fine cloth and pulled it out of his waistband.

Ridges of muscle met my palm.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered, but I carried on with what I was doing, running my fingers into the furrows between his abs and up to his ripped pecs.

With a satisfied smile, I skimmed my hands around his waist and stroked them down over his tight denim-covered asscheeks, squeezing.

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