Page 72 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

Dale had been playing guitar since he was three years old. John had told me that. He could also play piano, bass, and drums. He really was a one-man band, or he could be. He also wrote his own songs, music and lyrics.

“You’re better than he is.” I snuggled up closer, sighing as I felt his pelvis pressed against my behind. God, he always made me think about wanting him, no matter what we were doing or what we were talking about.

“I didn’t know it was a competition.” He kissed my hair, the top of my head, taking a long, slow deep breath, his hand sliding under my T-shirt to rest against the soft skin of my belly. “So how many fan letters have you written to Tyler Vincent?”

“I don’t know.” I felt defensive, a little suspicious. Cautious. Dale sounded too amiable, even interested. That was unusual. “A few.”

Of course, that was a lie. When I was fourteen, I mailed him a letter every single week. No joke. That was until my mother cut me off from stamps. When I had to buy my own, the letters dwindled down to once a month. Eventually, I stopped sending them. But I never stopped writing them. I had notebooks full of letters to Tyler Vincent. Really, they were more like diary or journal entries. I probably never would have ever shared them with Tyler Vincent, unless he and I became friends… or something more.

o;I can’t believe you came back,” I whispered as we rocked together on my bed. “Why did you even come back?”

“Because…” His breath moved warm against my ear, sending shivers through me. “You’re mine. I knew it the first time I saw you. I will always come for you, Sara. Always.”

I couldn’t respond, there just weren’t words, so I kissed him, pressing my lips fully to his.

He held me close, whispering my name.

We stayed like that a long time, not talking, just hanging onto each other. I couldn’t have foreseen anything like this, I reasoned, snuggling closer. Dale sighed softly, and I held onto him, knowing that whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same again.

Part Two

The Headliner

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Happy Halloween!” John opened the door when I knocked and I laughed when I saw his costume.

“Crocodile Dundee?” I guessed.

“That’s right, mate!” He gave me a thumbs up, doing his best Australian accent as I came into the apartment, shutting the door behind me. “Dale’s in his room. Are you sure you two don’t want to go out to a party or something?”

“We’ll be fine here giving out candy,” I assured him, heading back to Dale’s room, following the sound of the guitar.

I opened the door without knocking, finding Dale sitting on the bed, shirtless and barefoot, playing his acoustic. He looked up when he saw me, smiling, but didn’t stop playing as I closed the door, leaning against it, just watching him. He still took my breath away, two months into our relationship and every time I saw him, it was like flashbulbs and noisemakers went off in my head, alerting me the world’s best party was about to begin.

The song was familiar and he played beautifully, hair falling across his face as he looked down, moving his fingers over the strings, playing the chords. Thank goodness there was a door to lean against, because for me, seeing him shirtless and barefoot with a guitar in his lap was like dangling raw meat in a tiger’s cage. I wanted to jump him right there. The last note of the song hung in the air as he peeked up at me, still smiling that dimple-making smile, his gaze starting at my face and sweeping downward—just jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy, but he looked at me like I’d walked in wearing an evening gown.

He always looked at me like that.

“Your father is dressed up as a Crocodile Dundee,” I remarked, moving forward toward him—toward the bed.

“I know.” He rolled his eyes, setting his guitar aside, leaning it against the nightstand, and holding his arms out to me. “Thank God he didn’t decide to go shirtless.”

“Or as Boy George.” I went to him, toeing off my sneakers as he tumbled me backwards onto the bed. Dale had a double bed. It was like swimming in the ocean after playing in the kiddie pool compared to mine.

“God forbid.” He captured my mouth before I could say another word, tasting like Tootsie rolls and Gatorade, a combination I had noted sitting on his night table. His lips, as always, were soft, inviting me to open to him. John didn’t care what we did in Dale’s room. Dale was an adult—that’s what John said—and what went on in Dale’s room was Dale’s business. It was so foreign to me to come across a parent who didn’t try to control every aspect of their child’s life—even if that child wasn’t technically a child at all anymore.

Not that we did anything in Dale’s room that we didn’t do outside of Dale’s room. So far, in spite of my myriad of attempts at seducing this gorgeous man in my arms, we had done nothing but kiss. Just kiss. When my hands went to stray, he caught them and trapped me, kissing me into submission until I was so dizzy I forgot where they were headed in the first place. When his hands moved to those places I longed and ached for him to touch, just my response seemed to remind him he wanted to wait.

Except I didn’t know what we were waiting for.

“You are going to be a rock star.” I whispered against his mouth, stroking the slight stubble on his cheek. He had discovered how ticklish I was when he rubbed his five o’clock shadow on my neck or belly, and I think he’d stopped shaving so often just for that reason.

“I don’t care.” Dale licked the corner of my mouth, first one side, then the other. “As long as I’m your rock star.”

“Ha.” I rolled him onto his back, grabbing his hands in mine, pinning them over his head, straddling him at the waist. Looking down, everything I could see of him was naked. It made my thighs quiver as they squeezed him, focusing on that deliciously dark line of hair that disappeared under his studded belt. “You won’t even remember me when you’re a big star.”

“Don’t say that.” His face had gone serious. I knew when he really meant it. His usually light colored blue-as-a-summer-sky eyes darkened when he was angry, or serious—or lusting after me. “Besides, I won’t need to remember you.”

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