Page 12 of Starstruck
If nothing else, at least he got a good tip out of me. He does as I ask and walks away to serve the next customer.
A whistle comes from behind me as I pour and take another shot.
I look up to find none other than the world’s most infamous rock star, Baxter James. I’d seen him in court, and though I was shocked he was there, I realized that being one of Revolution’s biggest artists, he probably also wanted to see that bastard go down for killing the people who created the label.
Baxter is your typical rock star persona—an attractive guy with a broody,I’m-better-than-everyoneattitude and at least a little bit of an addiction problem.
My jaw goes slack as my eyes scan his body.
He’s hot as sin. I’d say he’s around six-foot-four to my five-foot-nine, and he’s absolutely ripped. I swear, his bicep is the size of my head, and his entire tattoo-covered hand could fit around my neck—a thought that has blood rushing to my core.
His chiselled jaw is framed perfectly by his mid-length, deep-brown hair that curls slightly at the ends around his neck and ears. It’s the kind of hair I would love to run my fingers through. It blends into a nicely manicured beard, full but not too full. He’s got navy-blue eyes and an extremely kissable mouth. He smells like a perfect blend of cigarettes and whisky and leather, a scent that shouldn’t be appealing but is absolutely intoxicating on him. And to top it all off, he has a nose and ear piercing and tattoos that peek past the collar of his leather jacket.
Hechecks every single one of my boxes and is exactly the kind of distraction I’m looking for.
“That was impressive,” he teases, taking the seat next to me.
“What was?” I pour myself another shot, finishing off the bottle, and swig that one back, too.
“How easily you shut him down. Think you bruised the poor guy’s ego a bit.”
“He’ll live.”
“I’m sure he will.” His eyes move over my body before looking at the now-empty bottle beside me. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I scan him up and down, brows raised. He may be exactly what I’m looking for, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy on him. I know a man like this is used to women worshipping the ground he walks on, but that’s not me. Who knows if he’s any fun if I don’t make him work for it first?
Which, if any of the stories about him are true, won’t be a problem. This man screamsfun.
“Sorry, Lover Boy,” I scoff. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me in your bed tonight.” I turn away from him as a deep chuckle escapes him.
The sound rushes straight between my legs.
He turns so his body faces mine, his legs spread apart. I try my damnedest not to give in to the pull I feel to turn toward him, but before I can even think twice, he pulls my stool closer.
“Challenge accepted.” He leans in close, his lips grazing theshell of my ear, causing goosebumps to break out across my arms. “But I promise I can make you scream my name in the bathroom in twenty minutes whether I dobetteror not,” he whispers.
A shiver runs up my spine, my lips parting. He says the words with such confidence and seduction that I’m almost certain I orgasm right then and there, the butterflies in my lower stomach on high alert.
I steel my expression before meeting his gaze. “I’d have toknowyour name first to scream it,” I tease, acting as if I don’t know who he is. I’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize Baxter James, and though I’m not the same type of famous he is—I’m a nepotism baby, after all—I’d be willing to bet he already knows who I am, too.
Especially after everything that’s happened in the past few months.
His face shifts into a stupid boyish grin that could make any girl weak in the knees. “Oh, please,as ifyou don’t know my name.” The cockiness in his tone is almost enough to drive me away, but the teasing look he shoots me keeps me there for a minute longer.
“And as if you don’t know mine.” I catch my bottom lip with my teeth as I smile a real smile for the first time in what feels like years.
The tension between us is palpable as he leans in close again, his face inches from mine. “I never said I didn’t know who you are, Lennon.”
My breath catches when he says my name, almost like it’s a prayer. Watching the way the L rolls off his tongue is something I definitely want to experience happening between my legs.
Not ready to move on from this intense chemistry between us quite yet, I shift slightly in my seat, waving the bartender back over. He reluctantly makes his way toward us, and though I should probably feel a bit guilty about turning him down and then flirting with another man right in front of him, I can’t find it in me to doso.
“Whisky sour for me and”—I point to Baxter—“whatever he wants.”
Baxter narrows his eyes at Parker. “Whisky, neat.” He passes him his card. “Her tab is on me.”
I chuckle to myself—he clearly missed the part of me passing the guy one hundred dollars.
