I frowned in confusion. How in hell was her mind going in that direction?
“Don’t worry about it. It isn’t my most beloved work,” she said in a small whisper, her cheeks pink, like she was confessing to something embarrassing. “I mean, some people liked it, but not everyone.”
I sat frozen for a moment, unsure how to tell her my mood had nothing to do with her book, because then she’d want to know why I was acting weird, and I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I couldn’t think of a good way to tell her without sounding like I was fishing for a compliment about me or the band. I didn’t want Emily to think I was desperate for a good word from her. That was pathetic, the kind of thing that could make her lose respect.
And her respect and good will mattered in a bizarre way.
“But I wonder why you keep reading romance. Don’t you have better things to do?” she asked finally. “I can’t believe it’s really your kind of thing.”
What did she think I read? “It’s not the first thing I’d typically pick up…but I wouldn’t be reading them if I didn’t like them.”
“Weird. There’s a reason romance is a genre for women, written by women. And you don’t seem like the type to like romance.”
I raised my eyebrows. What made her think that of all things? Her stories generally had nice guys, so… What was she implying? “Are you stereotyping me?”
“Nope. Just looked you up on Google.” Her voice cooled a little.
“And…?” I didn’t remember mentioning dissing romance in any of my interviews. Actually, books had never come up because people don’t get close to a rock star to talk about reading.
“You were surrounded by a lot of half-naked women. So why would you be into stories about everlasting love with one person?”
“That was the conclusion you came to after seeing those pictures?” That was totally unfair. Did she think I could control how women dressed around me? Or that other people’s choice of clothing would affect what I wanted in life? A possibility flashed through my mind. “Were you jealous?” Emily could be, and she was letting me know by being meh about Axelrod’s music and saying romance wasn’t for me.
The notion improved my mood for some reason. It wasn’t like me, since when women grew clingy and territorial, I got annoyed. But with Emily, I wanted her to act possessive.
Emily scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’re no naked Chris Hemsworth in a Thor costume. Now, that’s somebody I could be jealous over. He has the nicest pecs and ass.” She gave me a superior smirk.
“It’s Chris Evans who has America’s Ass,” I said, ignoring her attempt to scratch my ego. She was definitely jealous. And trying to cover it up by dragging another man into the conversation, even though the chances of her, me and Chris Hemsworth hanging out naked or otherwise were pretty slim.
“Chris Hemsworth has Asgard’s Ass,” she countered. “And Asgard is bigger than America! It’s in outer space.”
“Well, he can’t be naked if he’s in the Thor costume.”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
I shrugged. “A bad one.”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“Don’t have to be, generally speaking. Since I’m always correct.”
“Ohhh, I see. I guess if you’re constantly surrounded by sycophants and groupies, you would be.” She stood up with the empty coffee cup. “I need more. You?”
“No thanks.”
I followed her to the kitchen to put the dirty plates in the sink. Normally I wouldn’t feel the need to defend myself against her ridiculous accusations, but I was going to see Emily every morning for a while, and I didn’t want her in a snit over nothing. It had nothing to do with me caring about what Emily thought of me.
“I’m not surrounded by sycophants and groupies all the time,” I said. Security kept most of the people away, since I wasn’t interested in getting entangled with those women. The ones who got close enough knew my band mates, especially Dev, who hadn’t met a woman he couldn’t fall in love with since his breakup with Ashley. That breakup had inspired the song “Eat Your Heart Out, Baby.” Thankfully, he fell out of love just as easily. Otherwise, he’d be on trial for polygamy.
Without grabbing another coffee, she turned around to face me. “You should get your head checked, then. Because your judgment sucks.”
“My judgment is perfectly fine.” How was it my fault people shouted and flung themselves at me? That kind of crap was the price of fame the band had to put up with, but it didn’t define me.
I stared at her flat mouth, the challenging arcs of her eyebrows. Fire sparked in her eyes, and everything about her screamed “dare”—I dare you to prove you’re more than what was in those photos, more than your public reputation. I dare you to prove you’re a person with thoughts, dreams and needs that are your own.
And it reignited something deep inside that had gone cool and dormant since my collapse, making it burn so hot and bright that I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Moving purely on instinct, I cupped the back of her head and kissed her. Felt her soft inhale of surprise, her breath feathering my skin.
Her mouth was softer than anything I could’ve imagined. Sweeter than cotton candy.
She stood still for a moment, then raised her arms, letting them hover in the air as though she didn’t know what to do.
I licked across her lips, silently seeking an invitation into her mouth for more. She opened up, stroking her tongue against mine. Every nerve cell in my body came to attention, like she’d sent a shock of electricity through me. And I craved more of that sensation. I hadn’t felt that in…forever. It made me feel so alive, so anchored in the present.
Her hands came to rest on my shoulders, fingers flexing against the muscle. I held her warm, pretty cheeks in my palms and plundered her mouth. She tasted like spice and honey. She smelled like clean forest and citrus. She felt like life, vibrant and full of energy.
She kissed me back aggressively, stoking the scorching need inside my gut with her heat. Her breathing grew rougher and uneven, just like mine. Every little sigh, every lick was unbearably erotic and precious.
I pulled her closer, felt her breasts crush against my hard, bare chest. I wanted to take her to bed, lick, kiss and taste the rest of her, explore her and feast on her. Watch as pleasure broke over her, hear her sob my name as she came while wrapped in my arms.
Suddenly, she pulled back and put a hand over her mouth like a shield. For a fraction of the second, I wondered if I’d gone too far or misread the cues and she didn’t really want it. But her gorgeous eyes were large, dark and glazed with lust as she looked at me.
What was this about? “Emily…?”
She put up the other hand. “That was nice, but—”
Did she just say “nice” to describe the best fucking kiss of my life?
“—I have to finish the rest of my book.”
What the fuck? She had to finish it now? “Can’t you do it later?” I blurted.
“No. Unless you can finish in under ten minutes.” She immediately scowled. That probably wasn’t what she’d meant to say.