Page 87 of Dirty Rock

“I could go bare.”

“You could, but…”

“Don’t deny me.”

Jules trailed a nail down my cheek, jaw, and neck before she let it rise up to my ear. A shiver of excitement ran through me, forcing me to flutter my eyes open and take her in. “Control it,” she whispered as she reached behind her for the handle and began to open the door.

I stared at her blankly before she walked out of that public bathroom without a care in the world.

She disappeared around the corner when I heard her speaking again. “Hey, Gillian. Sorry I missed your call just now. I had a situation I needed to take care of.” She laughed, her voice drifting farther away. “So, you wanted to talk to me about the band appearing on your show…”

* * *

We spent the rest of that afternoon and night being careful, but I had to admit that the sly thigh grazes, the longing looks across the room, and the secret pecks on the cheek around the corners when out of sight of everyone else were becoming fucking addictive. I was beginning to feel like one of those uncontrollable teens going through puberty, unable to stop themselves from getting a chubby every time I saw a pretty girl walk by.

She was my pretty girl.

Three days in the rehearsal studios passed by with us creating this unbelievable tension, only for her to come back to my hotel room in the early hours of the morning, and for us to fuck each other until the sun came up. Her orgasms were the sweetest thing in my life. My name never sounded better than when it was tearing at her throat.

While with the others, we tried to act like we always had done. I’d snap at her, only for her to put me down with some well-timed comeback that had the guys laughing their arses off. The only difference now was that I wasn’t storming out of the room in a huff like I once had, and I wasn’t beingtooharsh with the names I threw back at her. I just hoped like hell I wasn’t being obvious.

If any of the band were suspicious, they never said. Presley’s sly looks were starting to piss me off, but Julia had assured me she hadn’t told Tessa the finer details of what had been going on between us both.

Why would I tell her? You’re my dirty little secret.

At first, I’d been fine with the idea of that.

Dirty little secret.

But when someone as powerful as Jules waltzes into your life, sashaying her arse, making you listen to reggae music you once hated, and forcing you to do whatever the hell she says, the dirty part starts to grate a little.

I wanted to be for her what she was becoming for me. Some kind of fucking saviour. A name she couldn’t help but scream out to anyone who would listen. Something good, and clean, and pure in her life.

The two of us were laid in bed back in my hotel room after our third session in the rehearsal studio. The day had been pretty successful, and we had five tracks on the go that we were really excited about.

“You need ten, at least. Plus, three for the bonus tracks,” Julia said as she stared up at the ceiling.

I had my arm around her, and her head was tucked lazily into the curve of my shoulder as she ran a single finger up and down my hand and wrist. It was lulling me into a sleep I wasn’t ready to fall into. I needed more time with her. I needed more of everything. I was starting to feel out of fucking control, and I wasn’t entirely sure what was making my heart gallop faster: the giddiness of having her with me, or the fear of what would happen if I let myself go any more than I already had done. Even when in front of thousands of fans, I’d always felt like a loner. The success hadn’t stripped me of the memories of those high school bullies—of never quite fitting in. Being with Jules made me feel like I had purpose. It made me feel like I was somebody without having to put on a show. Reallysomebody.

“Rhett? Did you hear me?”

I pressed my lips against her head and nodded. “Yeah. Ten tracks. Three bonus.”

“The ones you have already are sensational. You need that to vibe to flow through the full album. Why haven’t you shown the guys half of what you wrote while with me?”

“Just… biding my time.”

“For what?”

“To see if what I wrote is something I want to keep singing about for years to come.”

Her hand slowed, the movements less fluid against my wrist as her breathing picked up pace. There was a weird tension in the air all of a sudden, and there was shit all I could do to get rid of it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to as I stared down at the rise and fall of her chest and waited for her to say something.

“Me?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out. “Some are about me?”

“Kinda.”

Jules tilted her head back, her big, innocent, worried eyes looking up at me in a room that was lit up only by the moon. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

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