SPARKED: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance (With bonus book, PERFECT) Page 2

  His voice exudes desire and longing; he sounds exactly like he made me feel a few minutes ago. At first it’s like we’re the only two people in the room, even though I have no indication he’s spotted me. But when a verse ends and the band briefly takes over, my tunnel vision expands and I notice his fans.

  The crowd pressed against the stage is almost all women. Packed two or three deep, the group is fixated on Aidan’s every movement. And when he starts to sing again, the women scream for him and reach for him, and he responds.

  He struts, he stoops down to be closer to them, he looks into their eyes; it’s clear that he’s aware of their adoration and plays it for all it’s worth. When the first song ends and a faster tempo song begins, Aidan lets out a loud “Oh, yeah!” and tears off his shirt in one fast motion. The squeals and shouts are nearly deafening.

  Megan is among the screaming fans; I hear her yelling right beside me, but I don’t look her way because did I mention he tore his shirt off? What I’d gotten a glimpse of earlier is now fully on display, and it’s a thing of rare beauty, the likes of which I’ve never before seen. It looks like his six pack was on special, buy one get one, because the tight ripples of his abs do not stop.

  My god, he’s even sexier as he performs, and I didn't think that was possible. Why on earth was he talking to me, when he has all these rabid fans?

  His arms, one flexing as he holds the microphone, the other frequently reaching out to the women crowding the stage, are lean, solid muscle, and I want them wrapped around me again so badly that it almost hurts to watch him.

  I have the urge to push my way through the crowd to get closer, but as much as I’m enjoying his performance, what I really want is to be back on the deck with him right now. I want to run my hands over him and find out what it feels like to touch a body that looks like that.

  A dark, swirling tattoo covers his left arm, all the way up to his shoulder. I want to see it up close, and trace its lines with my fingers.

  Did they turn up the heat in here? I’m getting really warm.

  Their second number segues into a third and I get a little dizzy just watching the sweat bead on Aidan’s body and trail down to his jeans.

  When the song ends, he breaks to talk to the crowd, but I can’t hear what he says because Megan yells into my ear. “Pretty hot, huh? See what you’ve been missing?”

  I nod and try to listen to Aidan, but she continues, “He’s a great singer, but with his body, I’d watch him stand up there and read my poli sci book.”

  My roommate seems like she’s waiting for a response from me about Aidan’s hotness, but I’m too preoccupied to answer. My surprise at seeing him onstage is quickly turning into a much less pleasant feeling.

  When he kissed me, I thought I felt a special connection with him; but he’s clearly experienced at playing to his fans, and he sure does have a lot of them. Maybe I was just part of his pre-show warmup.

  The band starts another song, but that doesn’t stop Megan, who seems to already be feeling the drinks she had. “I wanted to find a spot up front, but Eric made me stay back here.”

  She rolls her eyes in Eric’s direction and I feel a flash of sympathy for him. From the way he watches Megan when she’s not looking, he obviously has it bad for her, but she has him so far in the friend zone he might as well be her brother.

  On stage, Aidan growls out his lyrics:

  Come on, baby

  Give me what you got

  You know I get impatient

  And you’re so damn hot

  Megan squeezes my arm again and leans in, stumbling a little on her heels. “I hear he takes a different girl home every night. Some night, I wanna be the girl.”

  A stab of jealousy hits me; then the pain comes. A different girl every night? Ever since I saw him up on stage, an ugly suspicion has been roiling in my stomach, and now I know: he’s a player, through and through.

  I can feel the spell Aidan cast on me shattering into a million tiny pieces. My disappointment is shockingly deep. Even though he’s not my type at all, I really wanted my moment with him to be something real. It sure felt like it was at the time.

  But I guess I’m just another girl to him. He’s probably good at making all of us feel like it’s real, while we’re with him.

  Tonight has been like a thrilling roller coaster ride, and I’ve just pulled into the station wishing I’d never gotten on the ride. Well, actually, I guess my point is that I’m not getting on the ride, but now I wish I’d never even looked at the ride, since the ride is so fucking sexy.

  Confession time: I haven’t been with a guy yet, not completely, and I don’t intend to waste my first time on a one-night hookup with a total manwhore. No matter how insanely, incredibly, ridiculously hot he may be.

  5

  Aidan

  The show’s going great tonight. Part of me wants to race through all our numbers so I can get back to Amber. I haven’t been able to spot her in the crowd, but the thought that she’s watching has me fired up.

  Unless she isn’t watching. She didn’t know who I was, so she wasn’t here to see the band. Damn, I should have told her I was going onstage.

  But it feels better to imagine that she’s out there somewhere, and I hope she is. All the dirty lyrics in our songs take on new meaning as I think about what I want to do to her later. She tasted so sweet, and I can’t wait to taste more of her. A lot more.

  I see the usual faces in the front row. I smile at the girls, glad they keep coming back and bringing friends. I keep scanning, but Amber’s not part of the crowd jumping around down front. She doesn’t seem like the type, really, which makes her more intriguing.

  Even after the way she responded to me, she wasn’t exactly throwing herself at me, and when I pressed my hips against her she didn’t try to take it farther. In fact, she seemed a bit wary.

  Getting her in bed might actually take a little effort — and the thought of that nearly gets me hard again right here on stage.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love easy girls and easy sex. Who wouldn’t? And things have only gotten crazier in that department since Throwback started getting popular. But I like a good challenge, too, and Amber’s like a mystery package I can’t wait to open.

  Maybe she’s somewhere toward the back of the room, where the lighting blocks my view. I think about her watching me and feel the growl deep down in my throat as I sing about “going down to heaven.” I hope she knows I’m singing to her, and that I plan to be going down on her later tonight.

  6

  Amber

  I stick it out until the end of the show. I’m tempted to leave several times, but even though I want nothing more to do with Aidan, I can’t tear myself away.

  It hurts a little watching him, seeing him strut and flirt with every woman in the room. And all he sings about is sex. Every single song seems to be about him doing something to a girl or a girl doing something to him … or at least he makes all the songs sound that way.

  And from the way the women up front are yelling, I can tell he’s melting the panties right off them. A few times I catch myself being drawn in — I can’t imagine anyone conscious not being attracted to him — but then I see him lean down to touch a hand reaching out to him, or point to some random woman as he sings, and I snap back to my senses.

  No matter what I felt on that patio, I’m no one special to him. He’s got enough charisma for ten people, judging from the crazy spell he cast over me. But I am strong; I can resist.

  He’s definitely not right for me. I need a nice steady guy who doesn’t play around, who works hard the way I do, and has goals for his life beyond being a sex symbol. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if he also looked like Aidan.

  After what feels like forever, and at the same time only feels like a few minutes have passed, the show ends. Throwback does one encore number, and the crowd yells even louder than before, something I wouldn’t have thought possible.

  Aidan’s hair is matted with sweat, anoth
er thing I don’t normally find appealing, but on him it adds to his primal sexiness. The last line he sings — Oh yeahhhhh — comes out like a moan, and then finally, the show is over.

  The band members file offstage to the sound of yells and catcalls, and I turn to find Megan fanning herself with her hand. “My god, they were on fire tonight! Aidan is always hot — that’s the singer’s name, Aidan—”

  “I know. I heard everyone yelling it,” I say. I haven’t decided if I’ll tell Megan what happened tonight. Something tells me I should keep it to myself. Now wouldn’t be the time anyway.

  “He is always hot, but he was sizzling hot tonight. Whew! I just want to lick him!”

  Megan cranes her neck, no doubt hoping the band will reappear, and I look past her to see Eric looking uncomfortable. I don’t understand why he hangs around.

  “C’mon, Megan. We’d better get going,” he says. He takes her arm to steady her as the crowd pushes past us, heading for the door.

  “Wait. I need to pee,” Megan says.

  “We’ll wait here,” I say. I should go with her, but I’m trying to figure out if there’s any way I can tell Aidan I’m leaving. I told him I’d wait for him, and though a big part of me doesn’t want to risk falling under his spell again, I feel like I should say goodbye. Tell him I’m not going home with him.

  People stream by while I debate the risks of going backstage to find him. Lots of the women going past have false eyelashes and tight, low-cut tank tops; they’re probably the ones who were crushing the stage and screaming for Aidan.

  Which of them will he be taking home tonight instead of me? Not that I want to go home with him. At all.

  Eric and I exchange glances. He has the long-suffering look of the permanent sidekick. I almost start to ask him why he puts up with it, but we don’t really know each other that well. “How are your classes?” I say instead.

  “Fine,” he says in an offhand way that tells me he’ll probably be coasting to a 4.0. I’m still waffling about whether to go find Aidan, but just as I’m about to break away from Eric, Megan reappears.

  “The line was ridiculous!” she says. “I can wait. Let’s go.”

  Eric follows her and after one more look around, I go along. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t see Aidan. I’m a strong woman, but maybe I shouldn’t put that strength to the test by getting so close to him again. Why play with fire?

  We make our way outside only to bump into another crowd on the sidewalk. A cluster of fans are gathered around the bar’s back exit and as we approach, I see Aidan’s dark head. My breath catches in my chest. I wasn’t expecting to see him again, and I’m surprised how just the distant sight of him causes a physical reaction.

  “I think they’re signing autographs,” Megan says. “Wanna go over?”

  Eric, bless him, speaks up. “No, Megan, let’s go. I have an early practice tomorrow.”

  I give him a smile, both because I’m grateful that he’s saving me from thinking up an excuse not to see Aidan, and because I’m proud of him for asserting himself for a change.

  Megan gives a little huff, but she continues walking. “Maybe next time, Amber,” she says.

  “Yeah, next time,” I reply. There will definitely not be a next time. Even if I have to take extra courses or find a second job, I will make sure I’m busy every weekend night for the rest of the year.

  Since I won’t be coming here again, I allow myself one more backward glance. It’s a mistake. Aidan’s grinning, that sexy, smirking grin he’d turned on me earlier. But now he’s aiming it at the petite blonde in front of him, and he’s wielding a Sharpie. The blonde pulls down her top, and Aidan scrawls his name across her bare breast.

  7

  Amber

  As Megan reminds me, college is about experiencing new things, and yay me!, I’m about to experience being on the receiving end of tutoring. In high school, I actually helped other students when they had trouble. And though science was never my strong suit, I got along fairly well by memorizing facts and studying hard.

  I hoped that my required first year science courses would cover more or less the same ground as my high school classes; after all, how hard could something with “101” in its title be? Ha! More like Chemistry 1001, it feels like.

  I met with my professor last week, but it was both frustrating and fruitless. He’s the type who understands something so well, so intuitively, that he can’t really grasp how anyone else can fail to understand it.

  So here I am, crawling into the tutoring center, with the hope that someone can help me understand bonds and reactions before I flunk out.

  I fill out a brief form at the front desk and am escorted to a small room where I’m told my tutor will join me shortly. I’m really uncomfortable about needing a tutor, and wonder what will happen if I can’t master chemistry even with this extra help.

  Aside from Saturday night, I tried to study all weekend, in between keeping up with my campus job and my other classwork, but I just couldn’t get it to click. Of course, Saturday night’s events did not help my ability to focus. While I was staring at chemical formulas, images of Aidan would push their way into my head, flooding me with heat.

  Then I’d picture him signing his autograph on a fan’s chest, and the heat would turn to anger, even though I know I don’t have the right to be angry with him. He was just doing his thing, and it’s my fault for getting caught up in it and thinking that his brief attention meant anything beyond sex.

  Aidan is a player and a manwhore. Aidan is definitely not for me. Aidan is… standing in the doorway?

  I look up from my phone, expecting to see the tutor I’ve been assigned, and instead I see him. What the hell? And this time he’s not just in my mind, he’s actually here, though he looks different than Saturday night.

  He’s still in jeans, but they’re neater and newer looking, and a snug Rolling Stones t-shirt stretches across his chest, covering those gorgeous pecs. His hair has the same rolled-out-of-bed quality to it, but his usually hypnotic eyes show the same surprise that I’m feeling.

  “Amber? I saw your name on the sheet, but never thought…” He trails off. Confusion is a very strange look on him. His expression is soft; his posture is different — I have a weird sense of unreality, as if either the bar or now has to be a dream.

  “What are you doing here?” I pull my books toward me, instinctively putting a barrier between the two of us.

  He waves the paper he’s holding at me. “Apparently I’m your tutor.” While my jaw is no doubt dropping to the table, his look of surprise quickly shifts to the predatory expression I saw on Saturday.

  Aidan leans on the doorframe and raises an eyebrow. “I guess you’d like me to teach you some things?”

  Wow, how did he manage to make those simple words sound so naughty? How does he manage to look so damn good? How on earth is it possible that he’s my tutor?

  “Or are you here to apologize for running out on me Saturday night?” he says.

  I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. “Technically, you ran out on me first.” I’m surprised by the brief flicker of embarrassment that crosses his face.

  “You said you’d wait for me.”

  “You looked really busy,” I say, a flare of temper rising in my voice. The memories of him seducing every female in the audience from the stage and then signing their bare flesh have me up and out of my chair, quickly gathering my things. “This won’t work,” I say as I try to move past him.

  “Whoa, wait. I’m sorry. I should have told you I was in the band.” His arm stretches across my path, and I curse myself for noticing the brawny definition under his tattoo. I stare at those muscles rather than look up at his face. “I knew you didn’t know, but it was awkward … I’m sorry I had to leave you.”

  I’m frozen in place. I want out, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling the pull, even though I’m avoiding his hypnotic eyes.

  Aidan touches my chin, and I flinch at the heat
of his fingers on my skin. He lifts my face so that I can’t help but meet his gaze. “Why did you leave?” he asks, his voice as soft as a caress.

  What am I going to say? I’m not going to explain to him that he made me feel special, but then I realized I wasn’t. I’m definitely not going to tell him I’m a virgin who doesn’t want to be his one-night hookup.

  I step backward, out of his reach, and fumble for a change of topic. “You’re a tutor here?” I still can’t quite believe it.

  One side of his mouth turns up into that gorgeous grin, but this time it looks more friendly than flirtatious. “Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “That you’re a student here, and a tutor, and a singer in a rock band?” My tone lets him know that yes, I do find it all a bit much to believe.

  “What can I say, baby? I work hard. I play hard. I’m always hard.” He touches a hand to his jeans and I flinch again. “Especially when you’re around.”

  I roll my eyes at him just before my irritation flares into anger. “Give me a break! I don’t have time for this. I’m about to fail my class and I need actual help.” I start to push past him again, this time with more conviction.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He blocks the doorway with his whole body this time, hands up in feigned surrender. “I was just kidding. I happen to be great at chemistry and I’m the best person here to tutor you.”

  “Really? And you’ll actually help me? If I fail chemistry I’ll lose my scholarship, so I seriously don’t have time for any of your cocky bullshit.”

  Aidan laughs out loud, and dammit if I don’t love the sound. “All right, no cocky bullshit, all business. Noted. Please have a seat, Ms. …” He looks down at the paper in his hand. “Ms. Paulson.” He gestures to a chair. “What brings you in today? Chemistry?”

  I narrow my eyes at him and draw in a deep breath. Does he mean it? Can I trust him? To help me academically, I mean. I look toward the door, then back at Aidan, and tell myself I can always arrange for a different tutor if today doesn’t work out.