Rock With Me, Page 3

  “Okay, so what does that have to do with you getting fired now?” He asks and eats his pancakes.

  “How can you eat pancakes and stay thin?” I ask before thinking.

  He smirks, that piercing catching my eye. “Genetics.”

  “Lucky bastard,” I mutter, earning a belly laugh from him and my whole being just stills.

  My God, he’s amazing when he laughs.

  “Anyway,” I continue, shaking myself awake. “Last week the same boss came to me and ripped me a new asshole for not telling him before that I’m linked to Will Montgomery through my family.”

  “Fuck,” Leo whispers.

  “He wanted me to pull some strings, get an exclusive set up for the magazine, and again I refused.” I shake my head and push my plate away, too angry to eat. “Leo, they’re my family. I’m not ever going to use them to further my career. Ever.”

  “What did he do to you?” He asks quietly. His fingers have gripped his coffee mug tightly in anger on my behalf.

  “He yelled, called me a pussy.” I smirk as Leo takes my hand in his again. “I said, ‘No, Bob, I have a pussy. I understand if you don’t know the difference.’”

  “Good for you.” Leo chuckles. “I bet he didn’t like that.”

  “No, he wasn’t impressed.” I sigh and absently trace the letters on Leo’s fingers. “He said that I wasn’t a team player, and if I’m not willing to go the extra mile for the good of the magazine, then maybe I shouldn’t be with the company anymore.”

  I bite my lip, tracing the ink on his hand now. “Maybe he’s right,” I whisper. “I loved that stupid job.”

  “What does your family say?”

  My gaze jerks to his and my stomach twists painfully. “They don’t know. Please don’t say anything.”

  “Why don’t they know?” He frowns.

  “Because, they don’t need to worry about me, and I don’t want them to feel obligated to help me. I’m fine. I’ll figure it out. I have job offers in other cities, but I don’t want to move away from my family. Stupid, huh?”

  He turns his hand over and grips my own tightly. “It’s not stupid. This is your home. I missed it too.”

  “Why are you home?” I ask, enjoying him. He’s so damn easy to talk to. Maybe too easy. I probably shouldn’t be talking so much, but I can’t talk to my family about this stuff.

  They’d freak the hell out.

  “I missed Meg. Tired of the road. I needed a break.”

  “How long since you had a break?” I ask and sip my juice.

  He laughs humorlessly. “We’ve been going non-stop for the better part of five years. The three last tours were back to back, three years long.”

  “Three years of traveling?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No wonder you’re tired.”

  He nods and smiles, but his eyes suddenly look bone-tired. Weary.

  “You ready?” He asks.

  Not really.

  “Sure.” He pulls me out of the booth, pays the check and leads me back out to the sidewalk and toward home.

  “How are your legs?” He asks casually as we walk down the busy sidewalk. The city is waking up.

  “Better, thanks.”

  “I mean it, don’t do that again.”

  “I’ll do whatever I please,” I retort.

  “Stubborn woman,” he mutters and glares down at me. I can’t help but laugh.

  “Gee, I’ve never heard that before. I’m so easy going.” I flutter my eyelashes at him playfully.

  “Smart ass.”

  We approach the front door to my condo.

  This could be awkward.

  He just pulls me in for a hug, wraps those strong arms around me and pulls me into him, against his chest and rocks me back and forth for just a moment. I feel him kiss my head and frown.

  What is this?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he whispers and pulls away, his gray eyes soft and a smile on those lips. “Are you sure you don’t have a favorite band?” he asks hopefully as he backs toward his car.

  I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah… Matchbox Twenty is pretty good.”

  “You slay me.” He grips both hands over his heart.

  “Go home,” I tell him with a smile and pull the door open, step into the warm lobby and look back as he lowers himself into his car. He winks and waves as he pulls away.

  I am in so much trouble.

  Chapter Three

  ~Leo~

  “What are your weekend plans?” I ask Sam as we jog up her street. It’s Friday, and we’ve run together every morning this week. Monday set the tone. We run, we have breakfast, I walk her home and leave.

  Jesus, I want to kiss her again.

  But I think she needs a friend more than anything, and damn if I don’t like her. When she forgets to keep those walls erected around her and loosens up a bit she’s funny as hell and fun to talk with.

  And it’s certainly not a hardship to watch her run in her little yoga pants and tank. She has a strong, lean body.

  I wonder what those legs would feel like wrapped around my waist.

  “Every day is a weekend, Leo,” she responds dryly, bringing me out of my fantasy. “But I think I’m meeting up with Nat and Jules for coffee tomorrow afternoon.”

  “You don’t drink coffee.”

  She laughs; her big blue eyes light up and she wrinkles her adorable nose at me. “You clearly don’t understand the girl definition of having coffee.”

  “Enlighten me.” We’re both starting to breathe heavily now. When we started this on Monday I was sure that our little runs wouldn’t challenge me, but Sam is a strong runner.

  “We’ll meet at a coffee shop, buy a beverage, and gossip for a few hours.”

  “What do you talk about?” I ask, although I really don’t care. I just want to hear that sexy, raspy voice of hers.

  “I can’t tell you that. It’s girl stuff.”

  “C’mon, I won’t tell anyone. Swear.” I cross my heart and grin down at her.

  “Nope.” She shakes her head and smiles some more.

  “Fine. Then I won’t tell you my gossip.” I shrug nonchalantly and grin.

  “What gossip?” She asks.

  “Not telling.”

  “Fine.” She shrugs and glances at me from the corner of her eye, trying to hold a smile in. Finally, she laughs and shoves me in the shoulder. “You don’t have any gossip, you jerk.”

  Before I can respond, my toe catches on a raised portion of the sidewalk and I feel myself pitch forward, face-first onto the sidewalk.

  “Shit!”

  My knee catches the most grief from the fall, and I roll out of it and back onto my feet.

  “Are you okay?” Sam grips my upper arms in her strong, little hands, her eyes wide and worried, searching my face, panting.

  Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

  “I’m fine. No big.” Her eyes take a journey down my body and she gasps when she sees my knee.

  “No you’re not! You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s just a scrape, Sam.”

  “You’re bleeding,” she repeats and squats in front of me, examining the tiny scrape. I didn’t even know it was there until she said something.

  “It doesn’t hurt. Come on, let’s keep running.”

  “No way, I’m taking you home and patching you up. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to push you that hard.” She stands and her eyes find mine again, her brows pulled together in a frown.

  I laugh and run my thumb over her frown lines, ignoring her little flinch. “I’m fine.”

  “Come on. Run’s over.” She takes my hand and turns us back toward her apartment, walking quickly.

  Could she be any more adorable?

  We reach her building, and for the first time this week, she leads me in with her, waves at the doorman and pulls me into the elevator.

  “This is a nice building,” I comment, watching her face.

  I can’t get enough of her face.<
br />
  “Yeah, I like it.”

  She’s suddenly digging around in her bra, and unfastens her key from her tight sports bra.

  “I do love your storage system.” And I want to dig around in there.

  Sam smirks and leads me to her apartment.

  I am not prepared for Sam’s apartment.

  The space is open and surprisingly big. Light. There are large windows, offering in plenty of sunshine.

  I smirk to myself. Appropriate.

  But instead of the modern, sleek, cold home I was expecting, I’m met with big, inviting furniture in reds and blues, plants and flowers, fashion magazines on the coffee table, her laptop closed on the couch. There is a gas fireplace in the corner and filmy white curtains on the windows. A piano pushed upright against the far wall.

  She plays?

  “Come on in. We’ll go back to the master bathroom, that’s where my first aid kit is.” She smiles and throws her key in a bowl by the door.

  “This is a great place.”

  Her smile is wide and as inviting as her home. “Thank you.”

  “Did you decorate it yourself?” It’s so feminine and sweet.

  Like her.

  “Yeah, it’s all me.” She laughs and looks around with me. She takes my hand in hers and leads me down a hallway, through her bedroom, all full of soft pillows and fluffy bedding and more reds and grays and white.

  Her bathroom is the same. Soft and pretty, but not disgustingly so. It’s comfortable.

  “Sit on the side of the tub and I’ll grab my stuff.” She turns her back to me, unzips and removes her pink hoodie, leaving a skin-tight tank over her yoga pants.

  My hands clench into fists at my hips on the tub. Fuck, I want to touch her, cup her ass in my hands, push my face between her legs. She turns back to me, her hands full of supplies.

  “Okay, this could sting a little,” she bites her lower lip and looks up at me as she squats in front of me, just inches from me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sam, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. It’s stopped bleeding.”

  “I don’t want it to get infected. I’ll just clean it up.” She starts gently rubbing it with a warm cloth, cleaning the blood that has already begun to dry on my shin. Her sweet blonde head is bowed over me, concentrating on her task.

  And my cock is stirring with every little touch from those amazing white-tipped fingers.

  She grips my calf firmly in one hand to steady me, and I flinch, imagining her gripping my dick in the same way.

  “Did I hurt you?” She backs away, eyes wide and glances up at me with worry.

  “No, sorry.”

  “I don’t think you need a Band-Aid or anything.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I murmur and chuckle. “See? It’s no big deal.”

  “I’m sorry I pushed you,” she mutters.

  “Sam, I’m fine. I’ve had much worse, trust me.” She sets the cloth aside, and I take her hands in mine before she can stand and move away. I like having her this close.

  She smells fucking amazing.

  “Why do you flinch when I touch you?” I murmur and tilt her chin back to look her in the eye. She frowns and a light pink blush moves over her cheeks. I run my fingers down her face and trace her bottom lip with my thumb. “Tell me. I enjoy touching you.”

  She swallows and briefly frowns again. “I guess I’m just not used to it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I spend most of my time alone, Leo. Unless I’m around my family, which isn’t often, I’m not touched much.” She shrugs and looks down. “I’m just not a touchy-feely person.”

  “Okay.” God, she breaks my heart and makes me want to scoop her up and keep her in my arms all the time.

  That wouldn’t go over well with this independent, stubborn woman.

  “I bet you’re touched all the time.” She smirks.

  “Why?” I ask. We’re still face-to-face, inches apart. I don’t want to move.

  “Fans. Groupies. People who want a piece of you.”

  “The fans are great, and yes, can be a bit gropy.” I smirk. “I haven’t paid attention to the groupies in a long time.”

  Her wide eyes find mine again. Does she think I fuck every woman who comes on to me?

  Okay, I used to, but I was a kid.

  “Really?”

  I run my fingers down her cheek again and smile down at her. “I let the roadies have them.”

  “Perk of the job,” she returns with a chuckle.

  “They don’t complain.” I agree. “You smell good,” I whisper. Her sweet, light scent is all around me. She smells like vanilla with a hint of lemons.

  Sunshine.

  Her breath catches and her eyes fall to my lips and I know I’m a goner.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Samantha,” I whisper.

  ~Samantha~

  “Thank God,” I whisper, watching his lips, that piercing. He’s been touching me all week, a brush here, a hug there, but he hasn’t kissed me since that moment on my parents’ porch.

  I never knew I could crave a kiss so much.

  He smirks, his eyes happy and hot, runs those calloused fingertips down both of my cheeks and tilts my head back.

  I brace my hands on the tub at his hips as he leans down and lightly, softly brushes his lips over mine. He nibbles the corner of my mouth, and then moves in, grips my ponytail in one fist to keep my head tilted back, his other hand wraps around my neck and cheek and he kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before.

  Like he just can’t get close enough to me.

  The feeling is entirely mutual.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on, moving from a squat to my knees, and lean into him. I swear someone turned the heat up in my apartment. I’m hot and bothered, literally.

  He moves his hand from my hair, down my back, and cups my ass in his hand.

  He backs away, breathing hard, eyes shining with lust. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  I shake my head no and lean in to kiss him again, but he pulls back, his face still so serious.

  “Fucking anyone?”

  “Brandon moved.”

  “Who’s Brandon?”

  “Former fuck-buddy.” Why are we talking?

  “How long?” He asks, eyes narrowed, watching me.

  “A few months.” I take his face in my hands and frown up at him. “What’s this about?”

  “I don’t want to move in on another guys territory, and I don’t share.”

  Wow.

  “I’m single.” I frown again. “But we aren’t…”

  “Oh, I think we are,” he interrupts, his gaze challenging me. He grips my ass harder and stands, easily pulling me to my feet. “I can’t let go of you,” he whispers.

  “You have to let go of me,” I whisper back and try to pull away but he scowls and tightens his arms. “Let go,” I repeat, stronger.

  He sighs and lets go and steps back. His face is grim. His tall, lean body is in his usual black t-shirt and running shorts but the shorts are tented just a bit. I bite my lip and then offer him a small smile before pulling my tank and bra over my head and toss them to the tile floor.

  I hear his breath catch, but stay on task, peeling my yoga pants and panties off and onto the floor with my shirt.

  He’s frozen in place, his stormy eyes wide and his mouth agape, taking me in. His hands are fisting in and out, like he wants to touch me but is trying to hold himself back.

  “Your belly is pierced,” he whispers almost to himself and I chuckle.

  “Yeah.” I look down at the diamond hanging from my navel and grin. “It was my one rebellion when I was in high school. Aerosmith’s Cryin’ had just come out, and most girls just had to have their navels pierced.”

  “It’s fucking hot.”

  “Get naked.” I step toward him, but he puts his hand up, his eyes pinned to my own.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Leo, I don’t invite many men to my home. I certa
inly don’t invite many men to get naked. I think I mean it.”

  He searches my face for a moment longer and then instead of taking off his clothes as directed, he rushes to me, picks me up and sits me on my sink and kisses me silly.

  This man can seriously fucking kiss.

  I catch his piercing in my teeth and pull gently, making him laugh.

  “You like it rough, sunshine?” he asks me.

  “Yeah, actually, I do.”

  “Good, you’ll get it. You’ll get it soft too.” He traces my ear with his tongue, sending shivers down my spine.

  “Rough works for me.”

  He bites my ear, hard, making me yelp, then soothes it with his tongue.

  “I’ll take you hard, and soft, and every way in between.” He grips my face in his hands and looks down at me, his nose touching mine. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

  Oh God, yes!

  “And I’m going to make love to you until you’re shaking and don’t remember who you are.”

  His big hands glide up my arms and then cup my breasts gently, his thumbs tweak my nipples, making them pucker even more than they were, and I didn’t think that was possible.

  He’s found a direct line to my pussy, and I squirm.

  I push my hands under his shirt and find warm skin and smooth muscle.

  “Want to see you,” I murmur and nibble his bottom lip, next to his piercing.

  He steps back and reaches an arm over his head, grips his shirt at the shoulder blade and pulls it over his head in that sexy way men do. He shucks off his running shorts, toes off his shoes, and there he is.

  Buck ass naked.

  He steps back between my knees, resting his hard erection against me and kisses me some more. I don’t think I’ve been kissed this much in my whole life.

  I like it.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs. I look up to find him staring at my back in the mirror and smile.

  “So are you.”

  “I’m a guy.”

  “So?”

  “I’m not beautiful.” He gives me a mock glare and then bends down to suck my nipple.

  “Your art is,” I reply breathlessly and twine my fingers in his hair. “You know, I have a bed.”

  “Good idea.”