WMIS 04 Rock With Me (8 page)

I am not that girl.

My phone chirps with another text and I raise the phone in my shaking hand.

I’ll wait.

He’ll wait?

Okay, if he wants a fight, I’ll give him a fight. Who the hell does he think he is,
anyway?

I feel better with my anger simmering to the surface and make the drive home in record
time. I park under the building in my spot and take the elevator up to my floor and
find Leo leaning against the wall next to my door, his legs crossed at the ankles,
reading something on his phone.

He has a plastic bag full of take-out.

“How long have you been here?” I ask as I move past him and unlock my door.

“Not long,” he answers, his voice calm. I refuse to look him in the face.

“
Why
are you here?” I hate how cold my voice sounds.

“I thought I’d bring you dinner.” He follows me inside my apartment and closes the
door behind him, sets the bag of food on the coffee table and turns to me, shoves
his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“You should have called earlier. I already had a dinner date.” I swallow and look
everywhere but at him, my stomach rolling.

“Look at me.”

“Leo…”

“Look at me, damn it.” My eyes find his and my knees almost buckle at the pain in
his stormy gray gaze.

Fuck.

“What do you want from me?” I ask and plant my hands on my hips. “I don’t recall making
any promises last night.”

“What’s up with the ice queen act?” His voice is stone hard now. Anger is good. I
can work with anger.

“This is just who I am, Leo.” I smirk and turn away and he stomps after me.

Just leave!

“Bullshit.” He grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. “Talk to me.”

“What is there to say?” I pull my arm out of his grip and back away from him. The
more distance the better. “Last night was a one time deal, Leo.”

“What?” He frowns at me, not believing what I’m telling him.

“Did you think we were starting a relationship?” I smirk at him. “You don’t do relationships,
remember?”

“You’re pissing me off, Samantha.” His hands ball into fists at his sides and his
eyes are shooting daggers at me and I have to mentally square my shoulders to keep
from sinking to the floor.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I wave him off like he doesn’t matter. “You knew
the score. It was just sex. Really good sex,” I concede, “But just sex. I finally
fucked a rock star. Thanks.”

I wink at him and quickly turn away so he can’t see how badly it hurts to talk to
him like this, to put that hurt his is amazing gray eyes. I pull a bottle of wine
out of the fridge and pop off the stopper in the neck, but am suddenly spun around
to face him. His eyes are feral, his breath coming in harsh pants, and his hands are
gripping my shoulders hard.

“You wanna fuck a rock star, sugar?” Before I can react, he plunges his fingers in
my hair and pulls me to him. He kisses me hard, demanding me to open my lips and accept
his tongue. He licks and sucks my mouth, bites my lips, and takes some more, and I
push on his chest, trying to shove him away, but he holds firm. His hands slide down
to cup my face and he pins me with my back against the fridge.

“I didn’t fuck you last night,” he growls. “But I’ll sure as hell fuck you now.”

He attacks my mouth with more violence than before, yanks my button down shirt apart,
scattering the buttons around the room, and pulls it down my arms and tosses it onto
the floor. He unfastens my jeans and peels them down to my knees, spins me around
the kitchen until I’m bent over the island and gasps when he sees my underwear.

I’m wearing black lace underwear with ruffles on the ass, and he deftly rips them
into two pieces and tosses them aside.

“What the fuck? Those were brand new!”

“I don’t give a shit. They were in my way.”

“You’d better have a condom on you; I don’t know where your dick has been,” I bite
out, deliberately trying to hurt him, and I know I hit the target square on when he
sucks in a breath through his teeth.

I hear him rip open a foil packet, and the next thing I know, he grips my hair hard
in one fist and pushes my face down to the counter top, spanks my right cheek, hard,
and plunges inside me, all the way.

He spanks me again and then grips my hip, bruising me, and does exactly what he promised.
He fucks me.

Hard.

Angry.

Hurt.

And I hate myself for loving the way he feels inside me. For being so damn wet and
ready for him that had I not already been sore from him earlier, it wouldn’t have
hurt me.

But, oh God, it does hurt.

He releases my hair to grip my other hip and pumps himself into me, growling, as he
comes, shuddering behind me.

He pulls out, yanks off the condom and tosses it into the trash, zips up and stands
behind me, panting.

I can’t look at him. I’m so ashamed, and I just want him to
go.

“Now you’ve fucked a rock star. How do you feel?”

“Like everyone else you fuck. Used and ready for you to leave,” I respond without
looking at him.

“Jesus,” he whispers, and I hear him scrub his hands over his face. “Stand up.”

“Go away, Leo.”

“Sam…”

“Go away,” I whisper and lean my forehead on the countertop. I will not look at him.
I will not talk to him.

If I do, I’ll beg him to stay and forgive me, and it’s just better if he hates me.

After a long minute, he sighs and walks to the door. I don’t look up when I hear the
door open, or for a few long minutes after it closes.

I just stay here, leaning against the counter top and let the tears come.

Chapter Six

~Leo~

I shouldn’t have left her.

I shouldn’t have fucked her against her kitchen island like a complete arrogant asshole.

She shouldn’t have been such a bitch. How can someone who looks so sweet turn up the
bitchiness so fast? Who the fuck does she think she is?

No woman is worth this bullshit.

I’ve been sitting in the townhouse for two days. I can’t write. I can’t sleep.

I’m fucking sick of myself.

So I climbed into my Camero and have been driving around the city, windows down, the
hard metal sounds of
The End of Grace
blaring through my speakers, with no destination in mind.

I just need to drive.

I turn a corner and pull through an open gate and stop the car, throw it in park,
and cut the engine, the sound abruptly cutting off with it, and stare straight ahead
for a few minutes.

Jesus, I can’t even think straight.

I blink and look around and realize that I’ve driven to Meg’s place, and she’s standing
in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest, watching
me with a frown.

Shit. She’s going to bust my balls. But I need to talk to someone, and she’s the only
one I trust with this.

The guys in the band would razz me for the rest of my life if they knew I was this
hung up on a woman.

What is wrong with me?

I climb out of the car, and slam the door. “Why is your gate open?”

“Why do you look like shit?”

“Fuck you.” I push my hand through my hair and glare at her and she smirks back at
me.

“You’re not my type.” She loses her pretty smile and holds a hand out for me. “Come
on.”

I take her hand and follow her into her house. She moved in with Will Montgomery last
weekend. I’m glad she’s happy. She deserves happiness more than just about anyone
I know after the shitty way her life started.

But if he hurts her, I’ll fucking kill him with my bare hands.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“No, mom,” I reply sarcastically, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“Coffee?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She pours us each a mug of coffee, black, and we grab a stool at her breakfast bar.

“Gonna tell me who she is?” she asks.

Damn, she’s perceptive. She always was. I’d forgotten how much I missed that over
the past few years.

I shake my head and look down into my coffee. Isn’t this why I drove here?

“I’ve been seeing Sam.” I mutter softly and take a sip of coffee, ignoring her look
of shock.

“Samantha Williams?” She asks.

“That’s the only Sam I know.”

“I just saw her on Saturday.”

I shrug at her.
I did too, and it went from bliss that morning to the biggest fucking mess that night.

“So what’s the problem?” Meg asks.

“We both fucked up,” I respond and laugh humorlessly. “Big time.”

“I need more info. Start at the beginning. Don’t leave out any of the sex.” She pulls
her feet up under her in her stool and settles in for a story.

“I’m not telling you about my sex life.”

“Okay, tell me the rest.”

“I’ve been running with her every morning,” I start and she nods thoughtfully.

“That sounds like a good thing.”

“It’s been great. And then we sort of fell into bed and now she won’t speak to me.”
I clench my hands into fists as the frustration returns full force.

“From what the groupies said back in the day, you were a better lay than that.” Meg
laughs, and I know she’s trying to be funny, but it’s like a slap in the face all
over again.

“I don’t fuck groupies, Megan.”

She flinches at my hard voice and I swear under my breath. “I’m sorry.” I take a deep
breath.

“Don’t tell me Sam thinks you sleep your way through the line of groupies at your
door.”

“I don’t know.” I shrug.

I don’t know where your dick has been.

“She pissed you off,” Meg comments soberly, and she’s right.

She fucking pissed me off.

“She has such a fucking stick up her ass.” I can’t sit still any more, so I start
stalking around her kitchen. “We had a good week, and she was loosening up, and I
enjoyed being with her. She’s funny as hell, and she can be sweet, and God, she’s
fucking sexy.” I run my hands through my hair again.

“What happened, then?” Meg asks with a frown.

“I left Saturday morning, and by the time I saw her again that night, she put her
fucking walls back up and told me that she didn’t want to see me anymore. We both
tried to hurt each other and it worked.” I can’t get the image of her crying on her
countertop out of my head. Bent over, jeans around her knees, arms folded under her
body, shaking.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

“I don’t need her shit.”

Meg’s phone rings and she frowns at the display, then holds her finger up to me to
hold on a minute and takes the call.

“Hello?”

I lean against the granite and listen half-heartedly.

“Sounds like you have the flu. What’s your temp?”

Someone is always calling her for medical advice. I’m so damn proud of my little sister.
She’s excellent at her job.

“You need fluids and rest. It’s a virus, but you need to take some Tylenol and watch
that temp.” Her eyes flick up to me and she shrugs and then ends the call. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug her off.

“So, you don’t need her shit,” Meg prompts me.

“No, I don’t. I don’t know what the fuck her problem is, but I don’t need it.”

“So don’t see her again.”

Is it that easy? The thought of not hearing her laugh, not sinking into her soft body,
just… hurts.

And that pisses me off too.

“I don’t do relationships,” I remind Meg and she shakes her head at me in disgust.

“I think you like her.”

“When she’s not being a cold bitch, yeah, I like her.”

“I think she has trust issues, Leo.” Meg looks down at her coffee in thought.

“Don’t we all?” I ask sarcastically.

“I suppose.” She shrugs. “Remember, her brother is super famous, and she had to watch
him deal with that. It’s probably not easy being related to someone that famous.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “I bet a lot of people have used her to get to him.”

“Are people using you to get to me?” I ask, pissed all over again.

“No.” she waves me off. “Until recently, most people didn’t know you and I are connected.
But she and Luke are tight, and people suck.”

“But I have no reason to use her to get to Luke. I knew Luke before I knew her.”