Rock With Me

  “I went on location for about a week with Luke when they were filming. He was cute. I was stupid.” I shrug. “You know how it is.”

  “And then?” He asks.

  Damn him.

  “And then we dated for a while. The movies were ridiculously popular. Well, you remember.” I roll my eyes at him. “Scott just loved the attention. He couldn’t be any more different from Luke if he tried. He also hated it that Luke was the one that got most of the attention because he was the lead, and the one all the stupid teeny boppers were hot after.”

  I shake my head and hop over a piece of driftwood.

  “Anyway, I knew relatively quickly that he and I weren’t going to last long. He’s way too egotistical for me, way too self-centered. But I was suddenly caught up in the whole media storm that came with those guys at the time. Poor Luke.” I stop and face the water, staring out at the sun beginning to sink into the horizon, the sky is turning pink and orange, but all I see is my poor young brother in my head.

  “Women would chase him. Literally, chase him down the street. They’d find ways to sneak into his hotel rooms. Give blow jobs for phone numbers.”

  “Sounds like groupies.” Leo smirks and I nod.

  “Yeah, except these groupies were thirteen, fourteen years old.”

  “Fuck,” Leo murmurs.

  “Exactly.” I rub my face with my hands and push them through my hair. “Leo, I don’t know how many young girls claimed they were pregnant and that Luke was the father.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head and laugh ruefully. “He, of course, never touched one of them, but that didn’t stop the accusations. Anyway, we were all chased all over the place during filming, and during the whole five years or so that the movies were popular. Well,” I amend and offer him a small smile. “Not me so much because after about six months, I broke it off with Scott and went home. But, in those six months, we were hounded every day. Paparazzi in our faces, whether we were out in public or not.”

  I shrug and we start walking again.

  “That’s not really what my life is like, Sam.” Leo’s voice is calm and his hands are in his pockets as he walks beside me.

  “I know it’s not quite the same, but you’re still recognized all the time. We couldn’t even take a regular plane to get here.”

  He frowns. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m just telling the story. You asked,” I remind him and he nods. “Let’s turn back. So while we were still together, Scott and I were out for lunch one day, and the paparazzi found us, as usual. They wouldn’t stop asking questions, taking pictures, you know. And it pissed us both off, but Scott didn’t want to cause a scene and ruin his squeaky clean reputation. I didn’t give a fuck.”

  “Sounds like you,” he murmurs with a smile.

  “Well, I should have kept my mouth shut. They hounded us the rest of the day. Ended up causing a small car accident.”

  “Hold it.” He pulls me to a stop, his hand on my arm. “Did you get hurt?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “But it scared me. And it pissed Scott off.”

  “It should have.” He’s so angry on my behalf and I just want to kiss him.

  “No, he was pissed at me,” I clarify.

  “For what?”

  “For not keeping my mouth shut. According to him, it was my fault.”

  “Mother fucker sonofabitch!”

  God, he’s hot when he’s pissed.

  “Yeah, that’s why I broke it off. And then a few years later was the incident in Luke’s house not too far from here.”

  He sighs deeply and pulls me into his arms, rocking me back and forth, his hands rubbing up and down my back.

  I feel so safe with him.

  “Let’s sit on our blanket and watch the sunset,” he murmurs into my ear and pulls away to lead me over to the blanket in the sand.

  We spread it out and plop down in the middle, leaning on each other, not saying anything as we watch the sun begin to sink into the water.

  “I love the water here,” I comment.

  “Me too, but honestly, I’ll take Seattle over this any day of the week.”

  “Really?” My startled gaze finds his.

  “Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize until I’d spent the past few months there how homesick I’ve been.”

  “I like it when you’re in Seattle, too,” I whisper, tracing the tats on his hand with my fingertip.

  “Do you?” He kisses my head.

  “Yeah.”

  He tips my head back with his fingertip, his gorgeous gray eyes the color of the ocean in the setting sun, and I’m completely caught up in him.

  I fucking love this man.

  Chapter Seventeen

  My eyes drop to the piercing in his lip and he leans in and gently sweeps his lips over mine.

  “You are so sweet,” he whispers and sinks into me, his hands pushing into my hair, holding me to him.

  I moan softly as he pushes me onto my back in the soft sand, protected by the blanket. He lays over me completely, we’re still in our clothes, and he just kisses me, brushes my hair from my face, and then pulls up, just a few inches, and smiles down at me.

  “You’re going to get cold,” I whisper and rub his warm back with my hands. I love the way his smooth skin feels.

  “I’m fine,” he murmurs and shakes his head. “You smell so good.”

  “So do you.” I smile shyly and nuzzle his nose with mine. “You’re still wearing pants.”

  “Do they offend you?” He asks with a chuckle.

  “Yes, I’m horribly offended,” I give him a mock-glare and shove my hands between his underwear and the skin of his ass. “I love your ass.”

  “I love your ass too. And it’s still covered.”

  “You’re on me.”

  “Yep.” He agrees and doesn’t move so I can remove my clothes.

  “Well, then it looks like we’re at an impasse.”

  “What if I just want to lie here and kiss you all night?” He asks, his face sober, his gaze wandering over my face, his fingers still gently skimming my skin.

  “Do you?” I ask.

  “Hell no, I want to be inside you, but that wasn’t the question.” He laughs.

  “Well, you can kiss me whenever you want.”

  “Good to know.”

  He kisses me again, and then rises up to his knees, pulls my pants down over my hips and raises his eyebrows when he sees my thong.

  “Nice underwear.”

  “Please don’t tear them.” I laugh.

  “No, they’re staying on.” He unfastens his pants, pushes them down around his thighs, and lowers himself over me again, cradled between my thighs. I can’t believe I never had sex in this position before him. I love the way he feels over me.

  Although, I never would have trusted anyone before him to put me in this vulnerable position.

  “What are you thinking?” He whispers.

  “That I love how you feel when you’re on me like this.”

  He pulls his hips back, reaches between us to pull my thong to the side with his finger tip, and slowly, so damn slowly, sinks inside me. “Oh, baby.”

  “Okay, I like this, too.” I smile against his mouth.

  “Oh, sunshine, you are incredible.” He kisses my nose and my cheeks. He’s so not fucking me right now. He’s making love to me, and I can’t get enough of it.

  “Why do you call me sunshine?” I ask, and wonder if he’ll tell me. My hands are roaming all over his back, arms, ass. I can’t stop touching him.

  “I told you before, because of your hair.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.” I pull my fingers down his face and kiss his lips softly.

  He takes a deep breath and moves very slightly inside me, making me gasp.

  “I call you sunshine,” he whispers and brushes his knuckles down my face, “because when you smile, you light me up inside.”

  “Oh, baby,” I whispe
r and pull his face down to mine and kiss him fiercely, rocking my hips. He begins to slide in and out of me, still slowly, but more firmly, rocking his pubic bone against my clit each time he’s buried as far as he can go.

  Night has descended completely around us, and I can hear crickets blending in with the rush of the waves down the beach. I am wrapped in Leo’s warmth, literally as well as emotionally. He pulls one of his hands down from my hair, along my face, and farther still to rest over my breast. His thumb and forefinger worry the nipple through my shirt, sending electricity straight to my center, and I pulse around his hardness.

  He kisses down to my neck and bites my shoulder. “Come.”

  And I do, softly, but no less intensely than when he fucks me stupid. I’m shattering beneath him, gripping onto his back with my nails.

  “Ah, damn, baby,” he groans and follows me over the edge into bliss.

  ***

  “We really should get up,” I mumble and turn my face to kiss his chest.

  “Why?”

  “It’s almost noon.” I laugh. Leo chuckles and kisses my head.

  “We don’t have anywhere to be until this evening.” He turns on his side to face me.

  “What are we doing this evening?” I ask and trace the tattoo on his shoulder.

  “We have been invited to Gary and Lori’s for a barbeque with the whole crew.”

  “Oh, okay.” I sigh and snuggle deeper into my pillow, watching him. “What are we gonna do today?”

  “What do you want to do?” He asks and brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  “We could go for a run,” I suggest and chuckle when he frowns.

  “Take a day off, sweetheart.”

  “Well, we could at least start by getting out of this huge bed of yours and getting some food. I’m hungry.”

  He grins wolfishly. “Worked up an appetite, did you?”

  “Come on.” I hop up onto my knees and nudge his leg. Leo’s eyes travel up and down my nakedness and I laugh. “No more sex until I’ve been fed, Mr. Insatiable.”

  “But you’re irresistible.” He grabs my hand and pulls me back down on top of him.

  “No way, I can’t do anymore of the sex stuff until I’ve had food.” I kiss him and playfully tug on his piercing.

  “Fine.” He sighs deeply, pretending to be put out.

  “Do you have food here?” I ask. We’ve grabbed food out since we’ve been here.

  “There should be some basic supplies here. I had my housekeeper bring in a few things the day we arrived.”

  “Cool. Come on.” I jump up and throw a Train tee over my head, grab a pair of black lacy panties out of my bag and pull them on and walk out the door of his bedroom without looking back. “Get your lazy ass up, Nash!” I yell over my shoulder.

  “Are you always such a nag?” He yells back.

  “Yes!”

  I hear him laughing as I reach the kitchen and pull out what I need for French toast and bacon.

  He pads into the kitchen, barefoot and bare chested, in just jeans with the top button left undone.

  My God, he’s delicious.

  He smiles smugly as I look him up and down. “Like what you see, sugar?”

  “You’re okay.” I shrug, smirk, and pull four slices of bread from the loaf.

  “Don’t stroke my ego or anything.” He laughs and pulls the orange juice from the fridge, pours us each a glass, and leans against the countertop, watching me bustle about his kitchen.

  “Your ego doesn’t need more stroking. You know you’re hot.”

  He just shrugs and sips his juice. “It means something when you say it.”

  When breakfast is finished, we carry our plates and juice outside onto the patio. There are more clouds in the sky today and the air is not quite as warm.

  “I think it’s going to rain today,” Leo comments and takes a big bite of his toast. “God, this is good. Where did you learn to cook?”

  “Mom and dad both cook really well.” I shrug and take a bite of bacon. “They made us all learn. Earning our keep, I believe mom called it.”

  He stops eating and frowns for a moment before taking another bite of toast.

  “What?” I ask.

  “What what?”

  “What made you frown?”

  He swallows and lowers his fork to his plate, a crease between his eyebrows. “My mom used to say that too.”

  He’s quiet for a while, staring at his food.

  “Do you want to talk about them?” I ask quietly.

  He shrugs and then exhales hard. “It’s weird, the things that trigger a memory.”

  “How old were you when you lost them?” I ask.

  “Twelve. Fucking car accident.”

  I nod. I knew that from Meg. “What was your mom like?”

  “She was so funny.” He laughs and smiles at me. “Seriously funny. I remember laughing with her a lot, the way you and I do.”

  “And your dad?” I ask with a grin.

  “Dad was fun too. He was the musician. He taught me to play the guitar and piano by the time I was six.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.”

  “I preferred the guitar. Still do.” He shrugs and his eyes sober. “We listened to Bob Dylan for hours on end. Dad had good taste in music.”

  “What about your mom? What kind of music did she like?” I love that he’s talking about his family. I have a feeling it doesn’t happen often.

  “She liked pop music. We listened to a lot of radio in the car. She had a beautiful voice.” He frowns again and I just want to scoop him up and hold him close. It breaks my heart that he lost those wonderful people.

  “I’m sorry you lost them,” I whisper.

  “Me too.”

  “Do you have photos?”

  “Yeah, in one of the bedrooms. When they died, all of their belongings went into a storage unit until I turned eighteen. I also got their insurance money at eighteen. So, I packed up all of their personal stuff, sold or gave the furniture away, and I’ve just kept all of their things in the boxes.”

  “You’ve never gone through them?” I ask, surprised.

  “No.”

  “Not even to find some photos or birth certificates or something?”

  “No,” he shakes his head and his sad gaze finds mine. “It always felt like an invasion of their privacy.”

  Poor man. “They would want you to do that.” I tell him with confidence.

  “Some day, maybe.” He shrugs and then stands. “Come on, you’ve eaten. Let’s shower.”

  I know the subject is closed. My heart is full and warm knowing that he shared something so personal and sacred with me. We’ve come a long way in the past few days.

  We work together cleaning up from breakfast and he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs toward the master suite.

  “Is your favorite color white?” I ask.

  “No, why?”

  “It’s really white in here.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re dying to redecorate the place, aren’t you?”

  “Something needs to be done with it.”

  “I like your place,” he comments and turns the water on in the walk-in shower, adjusting the temperature.

  “You do?” I’m surprised. “You don’t think it’s too girly?”

  “At first I did,” he admits with a grin. “But it’s really homey. Comfortable.”

  That’s the best compliment anyone could pay me about my home. That’s exactly how I want it to feel.

  I’m smiling widely at him, still fully dressed, as he shucks his jeans and pulls towels out for us. He turns to find me watching him and offers me a half-smile.

  “What is going through that gorgeous brain of yours?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug, the smile still firmly on my face.

  “No, that smile is not nothing. What are you so happy about?” He asks, wrapping his arms around me.

  “You,” I tell him simply and kiss his chin. “You make m
e happy.”

  “Good, that’s the goal.” He pulls my shirt over my head and slips my panties down my legs. “Now let’s make you clean.”

  He leads me into the shower, wets a rag and lathers it up with my body wash and begins to wash me, massaging my muscles.

  Pampering me.

  “God, that feels good. You have good hands.” I lean into him and close my eyes.

  “They like touching you,” he murmurs and spins me so my back is to him and he can wash and rub my back side.

  “Seriously, if this music thing doesn’t work out for you, I’ll hire you to be my massage therapist.”

  “Good to know I have something to fall back on.” He chuckles and leads me into the water to rinse me off. “Lean your head back.”

  He methodically washes and conditions my hair, rubbing my scalp and thoroughly rinsing it clean. When he’s done, I turn to him, take another cloth and lather it up with his cedar-scented body wash and return the favor, washing him.

  “I love your tats.” I watch my hands as they soap him up. “Mine are gone.” I wink at him and glance down at my body, the black lines all gone.

  “Mine won’t wash off.” He chuckles.

  “Good, I don’t want them to.” I spin him around so I can wash his back and his ass. “Okay, now your hair.”

  “You don’t have to wash my hair.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a little tall.” He smirks.

  Hmm. True. He’s so tall, and I’m so short, that washing his hair will be a stretch.

  “Lift me.” I back up against the wall and hold my arms out to him.

  “Happily, sweetheart.” He plants his big hands on my ass and pulls me up to him. I wrap my legs around his waist, loving how he braces me against the wall, pinned by his lean hips. His happy eyes watch me as I soap up his hair and massage his scalp, making the soapy strands stand on end.

  “This is a good look for you,” I tease him. “You could start a new trend.

  “Smart ass,” he whispers.

  “Okay, you need to rinse.”

  Without releasing me, he leans back into the stream of hot water, letting it wash the soap away, then straightens and kisses me, the water from his head running in streams down our bodies.