The Rocker Who Cherishes Me
Page 11
“Can I get you anything else?” the man asked, glancing from me to Marissa. When his eyes landed on Marissa they lit up with interest that he quickly masked when I growled.
If Marissa heard my growl she didn’t let on. Instead she smiled up at the waiter. “I’ll have a rum punch, please.”
I sighed, knowing she was going to get what she wanted regardless. “Top shelf,” I told the waiter, making sure that Marissa would enjoy her drink as much as possible. If she was going to try rum, then it was going to be the best rum. Not that cheap ass shit that bars and clubs used unless you specified it.
“Right away,” the waiter promised with a smile.
As soon as the door closed behind the man, I turned to face Marissa. “Is that dress new?”
She glanced down at her mid-thigh length gray dress. It had some kind of glittery shit on it, but it didn’t rub off, thank fuck. I hated glitter. It got on everything and no matter how hard or long you rubbed, it never freaking came off. “I ordered it a few weeks ago. With all the clubs and after parties you guys do while on tour I figured I’d need some new things. Do you like it?”
Did I like it? I fucking hated it. The thing hugged her luscious curves like a glove. The top was low cut and whatever bra she was wearing pushed her beautiful tits up, making them look like they might spill out of her dress with one wrong move. The bottom ended at mid-thigh when she was standing, but with her sitting, it hiked up a good two inches. If she didn’t have her legs tightly closed I would have gotten an eyeful of what color her panties were.
I wasn’t used to seeing her in sexy clothes like this. She normally wore jeans and T-shirts on the farm. If we happened to have to attend something that required she dress up, Marissa always wore things that were demure, almost conservative. Wanting to hide her lusciousness rather than show it off. What the fuck was she doing showing it off now?
“Wroth?” She said my name with a small laugh that didn’t mask her hurt feelings.
I bit back a curse. Hurting Marissa was like hurting myself. I hated hurting her feelings, but it was more than obvious I’d done so when I hadn’t answered her right away. “It’s beautiful, Mari. But nowhere near as beautiful as you.”
Her eyes widened, as if she were surprised at my answer. “Really?”
Without thinking about what I was doing I lifted a hand and pushed a few strands of her long, glossy hair back behind her ear. “Really.”
Her hand caught mine and held it against her cheek for a moment. “You’re so sweet at times, Wroth Niall.” She grinned up at me, her eyes looking mischievous. “It’s kind of cute.”
“Are you saying I’m cute, Mari?” I took a long pull from the bottle of beer. It was some kind of imported shit, something I hated, but it tasted good enough.
Even in the dim lighting of the VIP room, I could still see the pink that filled her cheeks. “You’re a lot more than cute, Wroth. You know that you’re sexy as sin. Sometimes I hate how good you look.” She dropped my hand and glanced down at her nearly empty glass of wine. “I hate all those girls that chase you,” she mumbled as if she were talking to herself.
I suddenly felt as if I couldn’t breathe. Her words had been soft, but packed a punch so strong it had knocked the air from my lungs. The beer in my hand dropped to the floor beside the long couch with a crash, sending foamy liquid spraying across the carpeted floor. If it shattered I didn’t know, because I was too busy pulling her onto my lap.
Grabbing hold of her long, nearly black hair I jerked her head back so that I could get a better view of those big blue eyes. “Repeat that,” I commanded in a voice that was hoarse with a desire that was suddenly consuming every fiber of my being.
I felt her tremble but knew instinctively that it wasn’t from fear. I have never given Marissa a reason to fear me. And I never would. Her eyes dilated, her tongue sneaking out to dampen her lips as she met my gaze brazenly. “I hate them,” she told me with a flare to her nose that suggested she was jealous just thinking about some other chick chasing after me.
“No reason to hate them, girl.” I wrapped her hair tighter, letting my gaze drift down her neck to the pulse beating rapidly at the base. It was faster than the tempo of the music that was vibrating the walls, keeping pace with the beat of my own heart that was pulsing in my dick. “None at all.”
“There are plenty,” Marissa snapped. “Especially when I see your hands on them. It makes me hate you just as much as I hate them.”
If my heart was racing a second ago it was completely stopped at those words. Marissa hating me just wasn’t something that I could handle. Ever. It made me crazy. Made the burning in my heart turn into an inferno. “Tell me not to touch them, Mari. Tell me and I won’t.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t believe you.”
“Have I ever lied to you? Do you have any reason to not believe me?” My hand had wrapped her hair around my wrist until I was now cupping the back of her skull. I used my thumb to massage her scalp. “Tell me, Mari. Tell me.”
“Don’t touch them,” she whispered, losing some of her confidence. Long, dark, thick lashes lowered to hide those blue eyes from me. Hiding her thoughts from me. “Please don’t touch them, Wroth.”
“Okay,” I rasped. Pulling her head down, I nuzzled the side of her neck. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything at all. All you ever have to do is say the words.” She should have already known that. Hadn’t I proved to her that she meant everything to me? That all I wanted was her happiness?
“Kiss me,” she whispered so softly that at first I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly.
“What?” I whispered back, enjoying the smell of whatever perfume she was wearing just under her left ear. Fuck, her skin was soft and smelled so delicious. I licked my dry lips and growled in pure pleasure as the tip skimmed over her delicate skin. That one tiny taste sent my body even harder and my hand tightened on her head as I attempted to gain some semblance of control over my wayward body.
The voice in my head, the one that constantly told me that I was no good for this girl, that I would only bring her heartache and taint her with the evilness that I had seen and performed while in the marines was quieter than usual. The voice of my heart, the one that always seemed so faint, was suddenly screaming to take what was mine. Love her, cherish her.
“Kiss me, Wroth,” Marissa said just a fraction louder, but I heard her.
If Marissa heard my growl she didn’t let on. Instead she smiled up at the waiter. “I’ll have a rum punch, please.”
I sighed, knowing she was going to get what she wanted regardless. “Top shelf,” I told the waiter, making sure that Marissa would enjoy her drink as much as possible. If she was going to try rum, then it was going to be the best rum. Not that cheap ass shit that bars and clubs used unless you specified it.
“Right away,” the waiter promised with a smile.
As soon as the door closed behind the man, I turned to face Marissa. “Is that dress new?”
She glanced down at her mid-thigh length gray dress. It had some kind of glittery shit on it, but it didn’t rub off, thank fuck. I hated glitter. It got on everything and no matter how hard or long you rubbed, it never freaking came off. “I ordered it a few weeks ago. With all the clubs and after parties you guys do while on tour I figured I’d need some new things. Do you like it?”
Did I like it? I fucking hated it. The thing hugged her luscious curves like a glove. The top was low cut and whatever bra she was wearing pushed her beautiful tits up, making them look like they might spill out of her dress with one wrong move. The bottom ended at mid-thigh when she was standing, but with her sitting, it hiked up a good two inches. If she didn’t have her legs tightly closed I would have gotten an eyeful of what color her panties were.
I wasn’t used to seeing her in sexy clothes like this. She normally wore jeans and T-shirts on the farm. If we happened to have to attend something that required she dress up, Marissa always wore things that were demure, almost conservative. Wanting to hide her lusciousness rather than show it off. What the fuck was she doing showing it off now?
“Wroth?” She said my name with a small laugh that didn’t mask her hurt feelings.
I bit back a curse. Hurting Marissa was like hurting myself. I hated hurting her feelings, but it was more than obvious I’d done so when I hadn’t answered her right away. “It’s beautiful, Mari. But nowhere near as beautiful as you.”
Her eyes widened, as if she were surprised at my answer. “Really?”
Without thinking about what I was doing I lifted a hand and pushed a few strands of her long, glossy hair back behind her ear. “Really.”
Her hand caught mine and held it against her cheek for a moment. “You’re so sweet at times, Wroth Niall.” She grinned up at me, her eyes looking mischievous. “It’s kind of cute.”
“Are you saying I’m cute, Mari?” I took a long pull from the bottle of beer. It was some kind of imported shit, something I hated, but it tasted good enough.
Even in the dim lighting of the VIP room, I could still see the pink that filled her cheeks. “You’re a lot more than cute, Wroth. You know that you’re sexy as sin. Sometimes I hate how good you look.” She dropped my hand and glanced down at her nearly empty glass of wine. “I hate all those girls that chase you,” she mumbled as if she were talking to herself.
I suddenly felt as if I couldn’t breathe. Her words had been soft, but packed a punch so strong it had knocked the air from my lungs. The beer in my hand dropped to the floor beside the long couch with a crash, sending foamy liquid spraying across the carpeted floor. If it shattered I didn’t know, because I was too busy pulling her onto my lap.
Grabbing hold of her long, nearly black hair I jerked her head back so that I could get a better view of those big blue eyes. “Repeat that,” I commanded in a voice that was hoarse with a desire that was suddenly consuming every fiber of my being.
I felt her tremble but knew instinctively that it wasn’t from fear. I have never given Marissa a reason to fear me. And I never would. Her eyes dilated, her tongue sneaking out to dampen her lips as she met my gaze brazenly. “I hate them,” she told me with a flare to her nose that suggested she was jealous just thinking about some other chick chasing after me.
“No reason to hate them, girl.” I wrapped her hair tighter, letting my gaze drift down her neck to the pulse beating rapidly at the base. It was faster than the tempo of the music that was vibrating the walls, keeping pace with the beat of my own heart that was pulsing in my dick. “None at all.”
“There are plenty,” Marissa snapped. “Especially when I see your hands on them. It makes me hate you just as much as I hate them.”
If my heart was racing a second ago it was completely stopped at those words. Marissa hating me just wasn’t something that I could handle. Ever. It made me crazy. Made the burning in my heart turn into an inferno. “Tell me not to touch them, Mari. Tell me and I won’t.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t believe you.”
“Have I ever lied to you? Do you have any reason to not believe me?” My hand had wrapped her hair around my wrist until I was now cupping the back of her skull. I used my thumb to massage her scalp. “Tell me, Mari. Tell me.”
“Don’t touch them,” she whispered, losing some of her confidence. Long, dark, thick lashes lowered to hide those blue eyes from me. Hiding her thoughts from me. “Please don’t touch them, Wroth.”
“Okay,” I rasped. Pulling her head down, I nuzzled the side of her neck. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything at all. All you ever have to do is say the words.” She should have already known that. Hadn’t I proved to her that she meant everything to me? That all I wanted was her happiness?
“Kiss me,” she whispered so softly that at first I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly.
“What?” I whispered back, enjoying the smell of whatever perfume she was wearing just under her left ear. Fuck, her skin was soft and smelled so delicious. I licked my dry lips and growled in pure pleasure as the tip skimmed over her delicate skin. That one tiny taste sent my body even harder and my hand tightened on her head as I attempted to gain some semblance of control over my wayward body.
The voice in my head, the one that constantly told me that I was no good for this girl, that I would only bring her heartache and taint her with the evilness that I had seen and performed while in the marines was quieter than usual. The voice of my heart, the one that always seemed so faint, was suddenly screaming to take what was mine. Love her, cherish her.
“Kiss me, Wroth,” Marissa said just a fraction louder, but I heard her.
