The Rocker Who Cherishes Me (The Rocker 8)

It still didn’t stop me from loving him so desperately. Which meant that I had to make a choice. Could I forgive him and move on with him? Or did I hold onto the pain and anger and everything else and stay buried in the past?

Chapter 11

Wroth

The food in front of me lost its appeal as I watched the pain fill Marissa’s eyes. I knew that she must have been reliving the night she had found me with the chick that had blindsided me with her drunken… Well there was no other way to describe it but to call it an attack. I grimaced, that night and the following coming flashing back.

The pain that had been on Marissa’s face that night she had thrown me out of her life was like a dagger to my heart. I had hurt the one person I never wanted to hurt. Her pain had left me gasping like someone had slit my throat. Even now, as I watched tears fill those pretty eyes I loved so much, I felt as if someone were choking me.

I couldn’t look at her and keep from drowning in her pain. Pain that I was responsible for.

The waiter appeared beside our table and he had to clear his throat a few times before I could force myself to look up at him. “Can I get you two anything else?”

I shook my head. “Just the bill.”

“Of course.” He pulled something from his apron and sat the little black book on the table. I didn’t even open it. Just pulled out my wallet, tossed down the first two bills I came to, and then reached for Marissa’s hand. The waiter made a choking, stuttering sound when he picked the book up again, but I ignored him.

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” Even white teeth sunk into her luscious bottom lip, but she didn’t protest.

Thankfully we didn’t have to wait long for a cab outside the little restaurant. One pulled up almost immediately. As soon as we were inside, I pulled her head onto my shoulder. Her tears soaked through my shirt, but I just let her cry. Marissa hated how much Liam and I—as well at the rest of our friends—tried to shield her, but she needed it. She has always had a sensitive soul and always would, no matter how much she tried to harden herself against the world, she would always need protecting. That didn’t make her a weak woman in my eyes. It made her exactly what my own world-wary soul needed.

The bus was still empty when we got back. I carried Marissa on board and then down the hall to the large bathroom. She was still silently crying, and each tear was like another slice of the dagger already lodged into my heart. If she kept this up I wasn’t going to live through the day.

My girl didn’t protest as I stripped her of her clothes. My body, already hard from having had her in my arms, throbbed as I unveiled her gorgeous curves. I pushed my need for her down with a force that left me shaking. She needed for me to take care of her, not take advantage of her vulnerability.

The last of her clothes fell to the floor and I couldn’t help but stare down at her beauty for a moment longer before stepping away from her to turn on the shower. The bathroom quickly filled with steam and I shrugged out of my own clothes before lifting her and stepping into the shower stall with her.

Trembling hands wrapped around my waist, her body going lax from the heat of the shower pouring down over us both. I bent my head and kissed away all of her tears. When you showered on a tour bus, you didn’t have the pleasure of taking as long as you wanted. The hot water only last so long before it got tepid, but I gave her another moment to enjoy it before reaching for her shampoo.

I’d never considered washing someone else’s hair as an erotic experience, but then again I’d never washed anyone else’s hair but my own. Bathing with someone was too personal an act, one that I’d only ever had the desire to do with one person. Her. During our all too brief relationship, I’d taken baths with her often, but never actually washed her. The feel of her hair, lathered with the sweet scent of her shampoo that invaded my senses, sent my body from hard and throbbing to pulsating with a need that was making standing a miracle.

A sexy little moan escaped her as I messaged her scalp. “Harder,” she murmured in a voice hoarse from crying.

I rubbed harder, paying attention to the tension that was still knotted up in her neck. It wasn’t until her head fell forward onto my chest that I rinsed her hair. Her arms tightened even more around my waist as I applied her conditioner, my fingers combing through the tangled length until I was satisfied.

The water was already cooling by the time I’d rinsed the conditioner from her hair, forcing me to rush through washing her body. I didn’t get to take my time as I rubbed her loofah over her luscious body. I wished I could have had more time. I would have worshipped every inch of her body. Would have taken the time to appreciate how perfectly her light coloring went with my tanned complexion.

I used her loofah and body wash to wash myself and then rinsed us both before turning off the water. I smelled like honey and milk, but I didn’t care. It was kind of soothing to have a scent that I associated with Marissa clinging to my skin.

Grabbing two towels from the linen cabinet beside the shower, I wrapped her hair with one and then began drying her. Unlike in the shower, I took my time, wiping away each drop of water slowly. It was sweet torture, and I knew from the way Marissa kept glancing up at me through her lashes, by the way her nipples had hardened and her tits had plumped, that she was just as affected as I was. When I crouched in front of her to dry her legs, the scent of her arousal nearly dropped me to my knees in my need to spread her folds and tongue her until she was dripping her release down my throat.

I clenched my jaw harder, feeling one of my fillings protest as I forced my attention on the task at hand. I wasn’t going to take advantage of her. If I touched her right now, she would probably hate me for it later.

Once she was dry, I roughly rubbed the towel over my own body and then lifted her into my arms once again. “Wroth?” she whispered.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I stopped in front of her roost and pulled her nightgown out from under her pillow.

“Why did you have to break your promise?”

I closed my eyes, another slice of that dagger cutting my heart open. I’d promised not to touch another chick, and for one insane minute I’d broken that promise. How could I have fucked up so badly in just sixty seconds? “It was the biggest mistake of my life. One that I will never repeat.” I cupped her face with my hand. “I swear that I’ll never break your heart again, Mari. You are everything that is good in my world. Without you, nothing else matters. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if I have to.”