Page 5 of Rocker

"We're friends, remember?" I squeeze her hand in mine reassuringly. "Friends tell each other things. Let me help you, Jules."

Chapter Three

Juliet

Idon'tknowwhatit's like not to be lonely.

I was an only child for most of my childhood. My father was ancient history, and my mother worked two jobs to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. Then she met my stepfather, who had three kids of his own, and suddenly her whole life became about catering tohisneeds,hisfamily, andtheirlife.

I get it now. She'd found stability after struggling for so long and was doing everything in her power to keep it. Back then however, as an overly emotional teenager who'd already been abandoned by one parent, it was a different story. I was furious and hurt that I'd been replaced, and I acted out, desperate to regain even a little bit of her attention.

It backfired. I found my bags packed on my eighteenth birthday, and it was only the money I'd managed to save from my fast-food job that saved me from the streets. College was never in the cards, and before I'd even turned 20, I was head-over-heels in love with a rockstar twice my age. I have a lot of experience in dolling out unconditional love and devotion, but I haven't felt much of it in return. Phillip's comment in the studio felt like a slap in the face.

Is that really what he thinks of me? As an employee? If I quit tomorrow, would he have a new, better version of me in a few days? Am I that replaceable?

No. I believe him when he says he didn't mean it like that. Phillip might not love me like I love him, but I know he cares. If I asked, he would do anything for me, and somehow it's that certainty which makes my heart ache most of all. We're so close, and yet so far. I want him to want me, I want him to love me, and a desperate feeling is growing inside me, gnawing at my heart right there in my office.

He's been single for a while, I might not be the perfect woman for him, but maybe I could be enough….

"I want to have sex."

Silence. Dead silence from the man hovering above me. His jaw has gone slack though, and he's staring down at me, looking so bemused you'd think I'd just told him I want to be an astronaut.

To be fair, becoming an astronaut is more realistic than becoming Phillip Lowell's lover. But, oh my god, this is so humiliating. "I mean," Blood is rushing to my cheeks, and with a groan, I press my hands over my face, frantically trying to think of a plausible excuse for the words that just came out of my mouth.

What did I just say? Did I really just tell him I want to have sex?

"You want to have sex," Phillip repeats my words slowly, his voice strained. "They, uh, make some great toys now. Really great. I'll get you a gift card or-"

I let out a hysterical little bubble of laughter, still unable to look at him. I can't believe those words just came out of my mouth. Have I finally gone completely insane from lack of sleep and overconsuming espresso? What was my plan here?

There wasn't one. I'd been feeling lonely and emotional, and I justspoke. Now I'm standing here in front of a man People's Voice Magazine voted "Most Dry Humpable" four years in a row, talking about sex toys.

"Just go back downstairs," I beg him, my voice high and desperate. "Seriously, Phillip.Please. Let's do both of us a favor and pretend I didn't say anything." I break away from him, going to shuffle some papers on my desk, my belly squirming with embarrassment. Even if Phillip never tells a soul, I'm never going to let myself live this down. This interaction will haunt me until I die alone and get eaten by my cats.

Though I still refuse to look up, I see Phillip's feet moving closer to me. He stops beside my desk, and when he speaks, his voice still sounds strained. "Look at me, Juliet." It takes me a minute, emotionally bracing myself for the condescending"I really like you as a friend"talk, but my heart still performs its usual flip-flop when my eyes meet his. "I asked," He tells me quietly, "You warned me it was personal. You don't have anything to be embarrassed about."

I do, though. If Phillip knew… "I might have some things to be embarrassed about," I confess quietly, my stomach in knots.

He swallows his expression suddenly dark, his body unnaturally still. "Are you seeing someone that you'd want to have sex with, Juliet?"

I shake my head immediately. "No. Nope. I've never even, oh god. I seriously shouldn't have said anything, Phillip. I'm really sorry." One side of my desk is against the wall, and Phillip is blocking my path to the rest of the room. All I can do is pace the two feet away to lean across the window sill, folding my arms over my chest like that can protect me from this conversation.

He's quiet for a moment, clearly putting together the pieces of this conversation I hoped he wouldn't. "Are you saying you want to have sex with me, Juliet?"

This is how I die. Of humiliation, right in the middle of my office, because no matter how many times I open and close my mouth, I can't seem to deny it. I've thought about it every single day for almost four years, every time I touched myself, or I read a spicy book, or Phillip stepped out of the pool outside this very window with water streaming over his broad, tattooed chest. I'm pretty sure wanting to have sex with Phillip is one of the most undeniable things about me.

Sex isn't all I want from him though, and we're sailing perilously close to the dangerous, painful truth, which is that I would take anything he had to give me.

"I'm just looking for something casual, you know." I shrug like it's no big deal. A lie. The biggest lie in the world. "I know you haven't been seeing anyone for a while, and with the tour coming up…." I trail off, heartbeat thudding frantically in my chest as I remember the look on his face last night when he talked about Daisy and Penn's age difference. "I know I'm notyour typeor anything, but we're both adults. So if you wanted, I mean obviously you probably don't, but if you did."

Phillip rubs his beard, watching me make my rambling, harebrained case. When I've finally finished talking and lapsed into awkward, stilted silence, he replies. "Okay."

My heart stops. "Okay?" Phillip steps toward me, every bit of that magnetic, intoxicating presence that's captivated millions of people burning behind those brilliant eyes, just for me. My mouth has gone dry, and I'm pretty sure I've lost the ability to move independently. "As in?"

"As in, you're very wrong about not being my type." He comes to a stop before me, crowding me against the window. Reaching up, he runs his knuckles down my neck, raising goosebumps over my entire body. Just this tiny contact is overwhelming and consuming. What will happen to me when he touchesmore? "I just didn't think I was yours."

That's so ludicrous I could laugh out loud, but I'm distracted when he closes that last little distance between us, and I feel the long, hard ridge of his erection pressing against my belly through his pants.

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