Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar #1)

He lowered his head to my shoulder, gathering me up even closer, breathing me in again like he did. I loved when he did that.

“No.” His voice muffled in the denim of his jacket—I was still wearing it. Then he lifted his head, pressing his forehead to mine. “No backseats for my Cinderella.”

“Then one of us has to get a castle before I… die.” I took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the heat of his body, the way his hands moved lower on my back, up under the jacket, seeking bare skin. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I kept asking myself how I could possibly feel this way, after just a week, but it was a ridiculous question, because I’d fallen in love with Tyler Vincent in an instant. Or… I thought I had. I was beginning to doubt any other feeling but this one, whatever this overwhelming, heart-bursting-open emotion was, the one only Dale made me feel.

He chuckled, eyes flashing almost silver in the moonlight. “You won’t die.”

I lifted my face to his and whispered, “The least you could do is kiss me?”

“Do you want me to?” He traced a finger over my lips, sending a hot rush of blood through me.

“Can’t you tell?”

His smile rose up to his eyes slowly, darkening them. “I like to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” So close. His finger still pressed to my lips. His gaze there too. “Yes, I want you to kiss me.”

“Mmm.” His finger was wet with my saliva now and he rubbed it against my mouth. “Say it again.”

“I want you to kiss me.” I groaned.

“Say please,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving my mouth.

“Please.” My hands moved lightly over his neck and shoulders, broad and strong under my fingers.

“Pretty please,” he insisted, a smile playing on his lips.

“Pretty… pretty… pretty please.” I leaned nearer with every word, my mouth so close to his either of us could have bridged the gap in an instant.

I heard him swallow. “That was a very pretty please.”

“Thank you.”

Then he was opening the passenger side door, letting the cool night air in. “Come on, let’s do this right.”

“Where are you going?” I wailed.

“Come on.” He ducked his head, waving me out of the car. “I’m going to kiss you at your front door, like Prince Charming should.”

“Not a good idea,” I mumbled, grabbing my keys and my purse—leaving the shopping bag on the floor in the back, deciding I’d get it in the morning—and following Dale.

“No, doing it in your car isn’t a good idea.” Dale grabbed me around the waist as I came to the front of the car, giving me a long, hard squeeze. “We might just end up in the back seat.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

He groaned. “Stop tempting me.”

“Make me.” I slid my hand up under his t-shirt, hearing him gasp.

“Come on.” He grabbed my wayward hand, heading toward the front door. It was a security door—you weren’t supposed to be able to get in without a key or pushing a buzzer—but it had been broken long ago. It was the only way in the building.

“Okay…” I stopped, pulling backwards to slow him. “Here we are.”

“No.” He grabbed the knob, yanking the door open. “Not this door. I said your front door.”

“Dale…”

He led me down the stairs. “Down here, right? Which one?”

“Shhh, it’s late,” I whispered, pointing to the my door.

“Oh right,” he whispered back as we stood in front of my apartment. “We don’t want to wake Cinderella’s evil stepmother.”

I hadn’t told him anything about my family.

“In my case, it’s stepfather.”

He cocked his head, frowning. “Really?”

I just shrugged, but I think he saw the truth on my face.

“Come here.” He drew me closer, arms around my waist, and I slipped my arms around his neck. Then there was nothing else in the world but us. The heat of his body warmed me instantly, and I turned my face up to his, eager, but he was in no hurry, his mouth lowering to caress the soft, sensitive skin of my neck, brushing my jaw, my cheek, teasing me, making me wait and wait, until I thought I was going to keel over.

“Dale,” I whispered, my hands moving through his hair, thick and soft. “Please…”

“Mmm,” he murmured, his lips grazing mine, barely, his mouth slightly wet and open, making me groan in frustration. “I could eat you all up.”

“Finally,” I moaned, my whole body arched into his, seeing that little flash of his dimple, knowing he was smiling, feeling it there, almost right there, right against my mouth and then—

“What the fuck is going on out here?”

The door flew open and I froze, my heart dropping to my toes. My stepfather grabbed me by the arm, yanking me out of Dale’s reach, pulling me into the apartment. I tripped in my heels, ending up on the floor.

“Uh, sir…?” Dale blinked at the man now standing between us. I saw his hands balled into fists.

“Go home!” I gasped. “Just go home!”

“You heard her. Get the hell out of here. And stay out.”

My stepfather slammed the door, locking it and drawing the bolt, standing there leaning against it and glaring at me, arms crossed over his chest while Dale banged on it from the outside, calling for me.

I stayed huddled on the floor, tears streaming down my face, trying not to cry out loud so no one would hear me. Especially Dale. But he wouldn’t give up. He was pounding on the door at one in the morning, calling my name, asking me if I was okay.

“Shut him up, before I call the cops,” my stepfather growled.

I swallowed, shaking my head, but I did what he told me to.

“I’m fine!” I called, my voice cracking, hoarse. “Go home, Dale! Please just go home!”

Finally, he did.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I expected the phone to ring—even in the wee hours of the morning—but it didn’t. It was almost two a.m. by the time I escaped my stepfather’s wrath and made it to my room, and still the phone didn’t ring. I took off Aimee’s shoes and Dale’s jacket, slipping out of my jeans and getting into bed wearing the Black Diamond t-shirt, thoughts racing, my heart cracked wide open. He wasn’t going to call me, not tonight, not ever again. I was sure of it. And I couldn’t blame him after what happened.

I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was coming up, my eyes red and swollen from crying. I didn’t know what time it was when my mother knocked, opening my bedroom door, and I lifted my head slowly, sure I was still dreaming.

“Sara, you have a visitor. It’s a young man.” She lowered her voice. “Your father isn’t here.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “What? Where is he?”

“He’s at work. He had deliveries.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They added a new route on Sundays. He’s getting paid overtime. Should I ask your friend in?”

She looked like she didn’t know what to do. Of course, my stepfather had made the rule that “boys” weren’t allowed, ever. Not in the apartment. Definitely not in my room.

“Yes!” I moved faster than I thought possible, grabbing my jeans and pulling them on, running my fingers through my hair. I reached past her, opening the door wider, seeing Dale standing near the front door.

“Sara!” The look of relief in his eyes was palpable. I felt it all the way down the hall. My mother shrank back as he strode past her into my room, putting his arms around me.

I waved her away, seeing her eyes widen as I shut the door, but I knew she wouldn’t do or say anything about it. We had an unspoken pact—what my stepfather didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt either of us.

“Are you okay?” He grabbed my upper arms, searching my face first, his gaze dipping lower, like he was looking to make sure nothing was bleeding or broken.

“I’m fine,” I croaked. My voice was still hoarse from sleep—and all the crying. Oh God. I knew I must look awful.

“What the hell?” He walked over to my bed, sitting and putting his head in his hands like he felt dizzy. “I couldn’t sleep all fucking night. I didn’t want to call because I didn’t want to get you into any more trouble… but that…”

He lifted his head, eyes dark, angry. “Was that your stepfather?”

I crossed my arms, nodding miserably. “I’m not allowed to date.”

“What?” He looked at me, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish.” I sank down into my desk chair with a sigh.

Dale sat up, glancing at the closed door and then back at me. “So if he finds me here?”

“Yeah.” I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

He dropped his head for a moment, jaw working, teeth clenched, lost in thought. His hands fists on his thighs.

Then he looked at me, eyes as dark as summer storm clouds. “You need to get the hell out of here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean now.” He stood, decisive, looking around my room for the first time. “Find a bag. Pack it.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“I can’t let you stay here.” He grabbed a backpack off my floor, opening it and looking inside, emptying it of books and opening one of my drawers, pulling out t-shirts and starting to throw them in.

“Stop!” I grabbed the backpack, yanking it out of his hands. “Dale, no. I’m not going anywhere. I have to finish school. Where am I going to go?”

“Upstairs. With me.”

I smiled. “With you and your father?”

“I have a big bed.”

Oh. The thought of us in a great big bed was very tempting, I had to admit. And distracting. For the first time I noticed he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday and he hadn’t shaved—there was an appealing shadow of stubble on his usually smooth cheeks. It made me wonder if he’d slept either. He had a dark, wild look on his face that told me he probably hadn’t.

“Dale…” I took his hand, tossing my backpack aside, and sitting on the bed. He wouldn’t sit, standing looking down at me, eyes burning. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” I tugged on his hand, patting the bed beside me. “Listen, I’ve done this before.”

He frowned, brow knitted. “Done what?”

“Do you think I’ve never dated anyone?”

Now he did sit. “I hadn’t thought about it… but I am now.”

“I can still see you.” I kept his hand in mine as I turned toward him. “We can still see each other. We just have to be careful.”

He shook his dark head, his perfect mouth drawn into a fine line. “I don’t want to sneak around.”

“I don’t either,” I agreed, pointing at my closed bedroom door. “But you saw how he reacts. I really don’t have much of a choice.”