Strum Your Heart Out (18 page)

"Never."

He grabs my thighs and spreads them a little further. With one arm, he holds onto my chest, keeping me pressed against him, toying with my nipples. Every flick of his fingers sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to my core. Yes, yes, yes.

His other hand goes between my legs. He teases my sex with a light brush of his fingertips. Just enough to leave me panting and desperate for more.

His touch gets harder. He draws a line from my core to my clit. He does it again. Again. Harder. Faster.

And then he's there, right back at that perfect spot.

"Drew," I gasp.

He palms my breast. His breath gets heavy and he sucks on my earlobe. "Say it again."

His hands are magic. So much better than mine. So much better than anything I ever felt with my ex-boyfriend.

He has just the right pressure, just the right speed.

The bliss inside me builds. "Drew," I groan. More. I need to tell him more, so he knows how fucking perfect this is. "You feel so good."

He sucks on my earlobe.

"Come for me, Kara," he breathes.

His teeth sink into my neck.

And there it is.

I go higher and higher, until I'm absolutely at the peak. And it feels so good, so tight I can't take it anymore.

"Drew," I groan.

One more touch of his hand and I'm there. An orgasm spills through me, sending pleasure to every inch of my body.

I dig my hands into the couch to contain the sensation.

Drew presses his lips into my neck. He slides his hands around my waist and pulls me to the couch next to him.

His eyes pass over me. "I told you I'd get you tomorrow."

My cheeks flush. "But who knew you'd start so early?"

He reaches for the controller and slides it back into my hands. "Now that you can concentrate, I'll explain again."

He's wrong about the concentration, but I try my best to listen anyway.

***

We spend an hour playing the game. It's called
Ratchet and Clank
, apparently, and it's certainly the most fun I've ever had with a video game.

An alarm on Drew's phone rings. He groans and pushes off the couch. "I better get dressed for practice. Miles is picking me up in ten." His eyes pass over me. "You should come."

"I have homework."

"Do it later."

"Tempting, but..."

"You disappoint me, Kendrick. If you weren't naked I'd be very angry with you."

"But I am."

"Yeah, you are." His eyes go wide with desire. He shakes his head like he's sorry he has to leave, grabs his phone, and takes a step toward the stairs. "We'll be in Hollywood all day. Come when you're done with your homework."

"I don't know."

"If you don't come, how will I get to make you come again?"

The man really does make a convincing argument.

"I'll see what I can do," I say.

He shakes his head with mock disappointment. "It's more fun when you're there."

This wonderful lightness passes through my body. Music is the only thing Drew cares about and it's more fun when I'm there.

Sure, it's band practice. Even someone as disciplined as Drew must get tired of practice.

But it's more fun when I'm there.

I watch him climb the stairs. "It will be at least three hours," I say.

"I'll save the good stuff for last." He winks.

It's not possible to fly, but I'm pretty sure I could come close if I tried.

***

Homework is a slog. It takes until well into the afternoon, but I finish. I shower, change into skinny jeans and a t-shirt, and hustle to my car.

I went with Drew to practice last week, but where the hell was it? I turn my phone on to an avalanche of text messages.

The first text is the address of the studio. Then:

Drew: You ever gonna show up, Kendrick?

Drew: My hands are getting lonely without you.

Drew: And Tom is even more unbearable without you around.

Drew: Don't make me tempt you with pictures. I can't afford a nude photo scandal.

Drew: And now Tom is shooting me a dirty look.

Drew: You have any idea what you do to me? I can barely concentrate on playing. My hands don't want to do anything but touch you.

Does he have any idea what he does to
me
?

I tap a reply.

Kara: On my way.

I put the address into my maps application and follow it mindlessly. Ten minutes pass, and my phone buzzes with another flurry of text messages. I keep my eyes and attention on the road, my hands on the wheel or the gear shift.

The texts sure are damn tempting.

There's a smattering of traffic on the 10. The 110 and 101 are a crawl. It's far enough into the afternoon that I'm brushing up against rush hour. But, then again, rush hour is a constant state in Los Angeles.

I pull off the freeway. My phone buzzes. Another flurry. Almost there. I park outside the studio. It's a rundown little street in Hollywood. The concrete is dirty. The buildings are dark and covered with posters for concerts.

It's very rock and roll.

I'm more out of place than I'd like to be. I'm usually good at blending in, but I just don't wear my jeans and t-shirt in a very rock and roll way.

My phone rings again. Drew's never this impatient. Is it really possible he wants me around this badly?

I answer. "Hey."

"Kara, sweetie."

Crap. That's not Drew. It's my mom.

"Hey Mom," I say. "How are you doing?"

Her voice sinks. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, absolutely. It sounds like we have a really busy break." I bite my tongue. I have to find a way to tell her without crushing her.

"I'm taking Friday off. We can go to Napa for the weekend."

"That would be nice." I take a deep breath, willing it to fill me with confidence. It doesn't.

"I was thinking you could take your old room. Rents in the bay are getting so expensive." Her voice brightens. "It would be great having you at home."

Yeah, and it will be awful having me away.

It will be awful if I tell her no.

"Maybe," I say. "I haven't thought about it."

"There's always a place for you here, sweetie."

If I do it fast... like a Band-Aid. I take a deep breath. "I..." And I stall. "What if I didn't start immediately? I'm, um, I'm really liking Los Angeles and I think it would be nice to spend the summer here."

"Oh." The happiness drains from her voice.

It's like I just punched her in the gut.

Like I told her I go around beating puppies.

"If that's what you want," she says. "But Sugar and Spice would love to have you right away. You're going to be so great for the team."

Of course. It's not just Mom who needs me. It's the whole damn team.

I hold the phone to my chest and take three deep breaths. Each is less calming than the one before it.

I bring the phone back to my ear. "Maybe it would be better if I didn't work at your company. I don't want anyone to resent me for being the boss's daughter."

"Kara, sweetie. Everyone loves you. Everyone wants you there."

I fight my desire to backpedal, to apologize and promise I'll do whatever it takes for her to feel better.

"You'll be great," she says. "We can talk more over break. I have a meeting in a few minutes." Her voice stays dead. "I love you, sweetie. I'm so proud of you for finishing your degree."

"Thanks." I back into the concrete wall of the studio. "I'll talk to you later."

I hang up the phone without waiting for her reply.

She sounds miserable.

How can I add to that?

I shove my phone back into my purse. Two weeks until spring break. I'll figure something out. Somehow.

The entrance to the practice space is around back. I make my way through the alley. The music gets louder. It's unmistakable. That's Sinful Serenade and that's Drew playing.

The door is open a few inches. No sounds except the music. But, then, this song is the last in their second set and it's almost over. Not that I have their setlist memorized.

I wait until the song's outro and I step inside.

Eyes turn my way. Pete looks worried. Miles frowns. Tom shakes his head as if to say
great, someone is throwing gasoline on the fire.

And there's no describing the look on Drew's face. Happy and smug and impatient all at once.

Meg is sitting in the corner with a giant textbook in her lap. She waves at me. It seems she's the only person here who isn't expecting something explosive.

Drew and his ex must have been more of a train wreck than he's let on.

Or maybe the expression on my face is more tortured than I think it is.

"Hey, Kara," Miles says. "How was the drive?"

"Fine, thanks."

Tom glances at his watch. "You want to take five, loverboys?"

Death glare from Drew. Of course. I guess the idea of us together, really together, is still awful to him.

So that answers the whole
does he actually like me or just like fucking me
question.

Drew pulls his guitar over his head. "Give it a rest, all right?"

Tom shrugs as if to say
who me?
"Not everything is about you. I was speaking to Miles and Pete."

Pete rolls his eyes. "Make it ten. I'm going to get a drink." He motions to me and Meg. "You two want anything?"

"Iced tea." Meg looks at me as if to ask, you too?

I nod.

"Green for me and black for Kara."

"You buying my girl drinks?" Miles asks.

"I am," Pete says.

"Better watch out," I say. "Meg is only loyal to whoever provides her with the most caffeine."

Miles makes his way to Meg. He takes her hands and pulls her to her feet. And then his arms are around her and his lips are on hers.

And they are making out.

Tom shakes his head. "What happened to the 'no girls' rule? It was such a great rule." He hurls his drumsticks in the general direction of the floor and makes his way to the door.

And then it's just Drew, standing next to his guitar and looking at me with all these expectations.

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

"Let's leave them to it." He nods to Meg and Miles.

"Let's," I say.

He takes my hand and leads me back outside. It's not much here—a black concrete alley surrounded by warehouse buildings. There's music coming from down the street. It's vaguely familiar, certainly something I've heard on KROQ, but I can't place it.

No sign of Tom or Pete. No doubt they're both sulking in their own unique way.

"Hey." He rubs my shoulder, sweet. "You want to tell me why you look so miserable?"

"Not really, no." I hug my purse. "I'm here to listen to the music."

"I can rephrase it so it's not a question."

"I don't want to talk about it." The sun is beating down on the black concrete. I move toward the little alley on the side of the building. There should be shade there.

Drew follows me. He's close. A foot behind me maybe. I can hear his breath. I can feel the warmth of his body. My heartbeat always speeds up when he's around. My lungs always struggle to keep up.

I lean against the concrete wall. "I'm exhausted. Can we leave it at that?"

"I don't like seeing you upset."

"It's just stuff with my mom. I'll figure it out. I promise."

He runs his fingertips over the back of my neck. "I can help you figure it out."

"You can't." I look into his eyes. "It's something I have to do."

"Kara."

"Come on," I say. "It's not like I beg you to talk about whatever it is that made all your bandmates so cagey around the subject of you and relationships."

"That's just Tom being an idiot."

I shoot him a
yeah, right
look. "Why do you stop flirting with me the second someone else is around?"

"It’s private."

"Am I not good enough for your friends?” I press my fingertips into the concrete wall.

“How could you not be good enough?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. What quality do I need to have to be worthy of girlfriend status?”

“Kara.”

“Which is it? Because I’d like to know now if this is just sex. Do you want to be with me or not?”

His gaze goes to the ground. "I told you before. I'm not good with relationships."

"Yeah, but, it's me. We've been friends since forever."

He makes eye contact. "I don't know. I can't think straight when it comes to you."

"But why?" My heartbeat speeds. "If you don't want a girlfriend then what is there to think about?"

"I didn't say that." Drew’s eyes find mine. "I fuck women up. That doesn't mean I don't want to be with you."

"But do you?" I ask.

He presses his hips against mine, pinning me to the wall. "What do you think?"

I bite my lip. He knows I was asking about more than sex. He's not going to answer me.

Drew's hands slide over my cheek. "Why don't you talk to me about your mom?"

"Why don't you talk to me about why you're not 'good with relationships' or why it is you can't think straight when it comes to me? Or maybe why you're dodging questions about what this means by trying to fuck me?"

There are footsteps coming toward us. Tom or Pete, probably. Which means Drew is done having this conversation. God forbid someone think we're together.

Drew steps back. Big surprise. The affection-repelling footsteps belong to Tom, apparently. Never mind that Tom knows exactly what's going on. Anyone could put the pieces together at this point.

He nods to me. "I think Pete has your drink inside."

"Thank you. It's hot out here. I'm going to go find that."

"Kara." Drew says it with this pained voice like it's just killing him I'm not willing to entertain this bullshit.

Like it's just killing him that I want more than
I'm not good at relationships.

I round the corner.

Tom says something that sounds a lot like, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

I brush it off.