Rock with Me
Page 4
I can work with this.
I lift my hand to her cheek but she flinches, and I can’t help the surge of pure anger at her reaction. Who the fuck put that in her?
“Easy.” I pull some lint out of her hair and show it to her before letting it drop to the ground.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“So, what do you do for fun?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks, her eyes narrowed.
“Because I don’t know you very well, and we’re sharing a porch, so we might as well have a conversation.” God, she’s so cold.
What would it take to warm her up?
“I run.” She shrugs.
“Run?” I ask.
“Yes, you know, where you put on sneakers and move quickly in a forward motion?”
She’s fucking adorable when she’s being sarcastic. She has a great, raspy voice, lower for a woman. She’s not squeaky at all. I can’t imagine her ever yelling, “Wooot!” when she’s drunk.
Her voice is fucking amazing.
“I do understand the concept, yes, but what kind of running do you do?”
“Marathons.”
My eyes travel down her small, firm body. She’s skinnier than I usually like, but she’s toned. I remember how her slim arms felt in my hands the other day and how light she was to pull to her feet.
She loves to run.
So do I.
Maybe we have stuff in common after all. I wonder what kind of music she listens to.
“How long have you been running marathons?” I ask and motion for her to sit beside me on the stairs.
“Since high school. I ran track, and there are some great marathons here in Seattle throughout the year.”
“I know, I’ve run in some of them.” I nod and lean back on my elbows.
“You run too?” Her eyes are wide and happy, and I see those walls slowly begin to come down.
“When I find time, yeah. I prefer running outside, but when we’re on tour I have to take advantage of the hotel gyms.”
“I run outside too. Running on a treadmill is not the same thing.” She nods and offers me a half smile and my breath leaves me. Samantha Williams is beautiful, with her light blonde hair and big blue eyes, but when she smiles, she could make the gods weep.
I might have to write a song about her smile.
“I usually run in the mornings before the city wakes up,” she adds and I frown down at her.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
“Downtown,” she replies vaguely.
“Downtown in which city?” I ask with growing impatience.
“Seattle,” she responds and scowls at me. “Why?”
I have to take a deep breath before I yell at her. “Do you mean to tell me that you run in downtown Seattle in the early morning? Do you have a partner?”
“Yes, I run in the early morning. Alone.”
I shake my head and run my hands down my face, trying to push down this sudden need to protect this little spitfire.
“That’s dangerous,” I mutter.
“What, are you gonna be my bodyguard, Mr. Famous Rockstar?” She asks, her voice heavy with sarcasm, and I can’t help but laugh at her. She’s funny, and smart.
“Actually, yeah, I think I will.” Well, that wipes the smirk off her face, and she flounders for a second, her mouth dropping open and then closed, not sure what to say, until finally she pulls herself together and eyes me warily.
“Sure. Okay, you wanna run with me, that’s fine. But I won’t slow my pace for you, just so you know. You’ll have to keep up.”
“Okay.” I smile at her softly and inch closer to her.
“I usually run at 6:00 a.m., but,” she loses her train of thought as her eyes settle on my lips, on my piercing. Yeah, she likes the tats and the metal.
And I like her. A lot.
“But?” I prompt her.
“Huh?” She looks up into my eyes, and then clears her throat and I can’t stop the wide grin on my face as I watch her cheeks redden. “But since I don’t have to be at work anymore, I figured I’d run at about seven. Is that too early for you? I figure you probably go to bed around that time.”
“No, I’m a morning person,” I run my finger down her cheek, happy that this time she leans into me rather than flinch. “I’ll be at your place at seven. Text me your address.”
“I don’t have your number,” she whispers.
“I have yours,” I murmur. “I’ll text you so you have mine.”
“Why do you have my number?” Her eyes are back on my mouth now, our breathing ragged.
“I asked Meg for it. I was going to call you to check on your car.”
“Oh.”
She licks her lips and I can’t stand it anymore. I cup her smooth neck in my hand, my thumb firmly planted on her chin, and nibble the side of her mouth, sweep across those plump, pink lips and nibble the other side and wonder if the lips of her pussy are this pink.
She sighs with a low moan as I sink into her, persuading her mouth open with my tongue and enjoy her. She’s sexy sunshine and I soak her in, enjoying every breath, every tentative flick of her tongue against mine.
She grips onto my hips, anchoring herself against me, and I wrap my other arm around the small of her back, pulling her tightly against me.
Her nipples pucker against my chest and I grin as I slow the kiss down, rub my nose on hers, and kiss her forehead, still holding her.
I lift my hand to her cheek but she flinches, and I can’t help the surge of pure anger at her reaction. Who the fuck put that in her?
“Easy.” I pull some lint out of her hair and show it to her before letting it drop to the ground.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“So, what do you do for fun?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks, her eyes narrowed.
“Because I don’t know you very well, and we’re sharing a porch, so we might as well have a conversation.” God, she’s so cold.
What would it take to warm her up?
“I run.” She shrugs.
“Run?” I ask.
“Yes, you know, where you put on sneakers and move quickly in a forward motion?”
She’s fucking adorable when she’s being sarcastic. She has a great, raspy voice, lower for a woman. She’s not squeaky at all. I can’t imagine her ever yelling, “Wooot!” when she’s drunk.
Her voice is fucking amazing.
“I do understand the concept, yes, but what kind of running do you do?”
“Marathons.”
My eyes travel down her small, firm body. She’s skinnier than I usually like, but she’s toned. I remember how her slim arms felt in my hands the other day and how light she was to pull to her feet.
She loves to run.
So do I.
Maybe we have stuff in common after all. I wonder what kind of music she listens to.
“How long have you been running marathons?” I ask and motion for her to sit beside me on the stairs.
“Since high school. I ran track, and there are some great marathons here in Seattle throughout the year.”
“I know, I’ve run in some of them.” I nod and lean back on my elbows.
“You run too?” Her eyes are wide and happy, and I see those walls slowly begin to come down.
“When I find time, yeah. I prefer running outside, but when we’re on tour I have to take advantage of the hotel gyms.”
“I run outside too. Running on a treadmill is not the same thing.” She nods and offers me a half smile and my breath leaves me. Samantha Williams is beautiful, with her light blonde hair and big blue eyes, but when she smiles, she could make the gods weep.
I might have to write a song about her smile.
“I usually run in the mornings before the city wakes up,” she adds and I frown down at her.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
“Downtown,” she replies vaguely.
“Downtown in which city?” I ask with growing impatience.
“Seattle,” she responds and scowls at me. “Why?”
I have to take a deep breath before I yell at her. “Do you mean to tell me that you run in downtown Seattle in the early morning? Do you have a partner?”
“Yes, I run in the early morning. Alone.”
I shake my head and run my hands down my face, trying to push down this sudden need to protect this little spitfire.
“That’s dangerous,” I mutter.
“What, are you gonna be my bodyguard, Mr. Famous Rockstar?” She asks, her voice heavy with sarcasm, and I can’t help but laugh at her. She’s funny, and smart.
“Actually, yeah, I think I will.” Well, that wipes the smirk off her face, and she flounders for a second, her mouth dropping open and then closed, not sure what to say, until finally she pulls herself together and eyes me warily.
“Sure. Okay, you wanna run with me, that’s fine. But I won’t slow my pace for you, just so you know. You’ll have to keep up.”
“Okay.” I smile at her softly and inch closer to her.
“I usually run at 6:00 a.m., but,” she loses her train of thought as her eyes settle on my lips, on my piercing. Yeah, she likes the tats and the metal.
And I like her. A lot.
“But?” I prompt her.
“Huh?” She looks up into my eyes, and then clears her throat and I can’t stop the wide grin on my face as I watch her cheeks redden. “But since I don’t have to be at work anymore, I figured I’d run at about seven. Is that too early for you? I figure you probably go to bed around that time.”
“No, I’m a morning person,” I run my finger down her cheek, happy that this time she leans into me rather than flinch. “I’ll be at your place at seven. Text me your address.”
“I don’t have your number,” she whispers.
“I have yours,” I murmur. “I’ll text you so you have mine.”
“Why do you have my number?” Her eyes are back on my mouth now, our breathing ragged.
“I asked Meg for it. I was going to call you to check on your car.”
“Oh.”
She licks her lips and I can’t stand it anymore. I cup her smooth neck in my hand, my thumb firmly planted on her chin, and nibble the side of her mouth, sweep across those plump, pink lips and nibble the other side and wonder if the lips of her pussy are this pink.
She sighs with a low moan as I sink into her, persuading her mouth open with my tongue and enjoy her. She’s sexy sunshine and I soak her in, enjoying every breath, every tentative flick of her tongue against mine.
She grips onto my hips, anchoring herself against me, and I wrap my other arm around the small of her back, pulling her tightly against me.
Her nipples pucker against my chest and I grin as I slow the kiss down, rub my nose on hers, and kiss her forehead, still holding her.
