SPARKED: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance (With bonus book, PERFECT) Page 6

  As he nears my ankles, I reach behind me to hold the table for support, my hands between my ass and the table’s edge. Aidan lifts one foot free of my collapsed clothing, and then the other, as he kneels at my feet. He looks up at me then, and the look in his eyes — if I could freeze one moment in time, it would be this one.

  The heat, the intensity, the certainty on his face make me feel desired in a way I had never expected. I want to burn this sensation into my memory forever.

  And then, ohmygod, he starts working his way back up my legs, just as slowly as before.

  His hands stroke my calves while he lays kisses on the insides of my knees, alternating sides. I find myself moving my legs part to give him better access, and can’t believe that I’m doing it. Modesty and self-conscious concerns melt away with each touch of his mouth.

  My head tilts back as I surrender to him, my eyes closing as I savor the sensations running from my legs down to my toes and back up to the top of my head. But when I feel his lips pass my knees and start moving upward on my inner thighs, I look down, because I want to see.

  Aidan lifts one of my legs and drapes it over his shoulder, then begins to worship the tender skin on my thighs like he has the next eternity to do this and nothing else. He brushes his lips over me, takes little bites that make me gasp, then sucks those tiny hurts into his mouth, simultaneously soothing and inflaming me.

  He has a day’s growth of stubble on his face and uses it to delicious effect, rubbing against my thighs, claiming me as his own. He was definitely telling the truth: He is very, very — ohmygod — so very good at this.

  My pussy, still a few inches away from Aidan’s focus, feels as if it’s been liquefied. I am so hot and wet and so turned on, I am aching for him to do more to me, though I don’t want him to stop everything that he’s doing right now.

  Just as he reaches the apex of my thighs, he looks up at me, and the moment we make eye contact is nearly my undoing. I groan from the amazing, frustrating pleasure of seeing his devastatingly beautiful face between my legs, ready to continue to his goal.

  He flashes his wicked trademark grin, just before he licks a line with the tip of his tongue where my leg meets my body. I’m utterly at his will, spread open before him, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  When his lips finally touch the folds of my pussy, I cry out, “Aidan—” It’s almost too much, but I want more and more. He lays kisses at my center, worshipping me with his mouth. His hands spread me open and find my clit. I see stars as he tenderly sucks at my most delicate spot, and I fight to keep hold of the table, when what I want to do is dig my hands into his back and scream my pleasure.

  He circles around my clit, swirling his tongue, taking me higher and higher. With no thought at all, I sway my hips toward his mouth, over and over, as the sensations build and rise, build and rise, and then I can’t hold back anymore.

  Aidan grips me tightly and supports me as I let loose and surrender to the unbelievable bliss. Wave after wave rolls over my body, originating at the point where his mouth has made me his, and radiating outward in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s overwhelming and incredible. It’s perfect.

  17

  Aidan

  Damn, that was glorious. I know I’m good — plenty of women have told me so — but Amber’s pleasure is like a drug to me.

  She exhales deeply as I lift her leg from my shoulder. “You think you’re good at that?” she says, her voice unsteady. I love that she teases me while she’s still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm, still breathing hard, her face flushed.

  I laugh. “Yeah, I do.” It strikes me that as much as I love sex, I’ve never enjoyed pleasuring a woman as much as I do Amber. Her responses seem to light me up from the inside out.

  Standing up, I kiss her and pull her close so we’re chest to chest, our hips touching. Amber reaches between us and fumbles for the button on my jeans.

  “My turn?” she says. She sounds a little breathless still, but also kind of uncertain. I’m all for blowjobs, but I don’t want her to feel obligated.

  Her hand trembles as she tries to undo my pants, and I can’t help teasing her. “I thought you were a good girl, Amber.” From the look on her face, I may have hit a little too close to the mark.

  Just as she starts to draw my zipper down, I hear the rumble of the garage door opening. “Shit! That’s my dad!”

  I grab her panties and pants and help her get put back together in record time, then wipe my face and adjust myself in my pants, getting them buttoned again. We sit down at the table just in time.

  “Aidan? You home?”

  “In here, Dad,” I say, and give Amber a quick smile. She smooths her hair, still looking flustered.

  My dad appears in the doorway, his eyebrows shooting up when he sees I’m not alone. I can’t blame him; I never bring girls home. “Hey Dad,” I say, “this is Amber.”

  18

  Amber

  Aidan’s dad doesn’t look much like his son. He’s nice looking, but in a much more ordinary way, with glasses and strands of silver in his hair. Aidan’s striking features must have come from his mom.

  If Mr. Holt notices the “almost-got-caught” tension that must be pouring off of me, he doesn’t acknowledge it; but of course, what would he say?

  “Nice to meet you, Amber,” is what he does say, and it sounds like he means it.

  Mr. Holt goes into the kitchen, and I give Aidan a wide-eyed look to convey the panic that’s still racing through my body, even though the danger has passed. Aidan returns my look of surprise, but I see a hint of his wicked grin at the corners of his mouth.

  “Should I go?” I whisper.

  Aidan shakes his head at me as Mr. Holt calls out, “Are you guys hungry?” The older man is looking into the refrigerator, then the freezer, and then the cupboards, but he’s not pulling anything out.

  “We eat a lot of pizza,” Aidan says in a voice only I can hear. In a louder tone, he tells his father, “Yeah, we’ve worked up an appetite.” I give him a kick under the table to accompany my glare.

  After another fruitless survey of the fridge, Mr. Holt turns toward us. “Amber, do you like pizza?” Aidan’s “I told you so” look makes it hard for me to keep a straight face.

  I suddenly get the ridiculous urge to cook for them, both of them. They may do okay, but they obviously need someone to take care of them in that department. I used to cook a lot at home, and I’ve gotten tired of eating nothing but cafeteria food and whatever I can prepare in my little dorm room microwave.

  I don’t want to be presumptuous, but it would be nice to be able to do something nice for Aidan to thank him for his time spent tutoring me. And cooking would have the added benefit of keeping my mind off what just happened and almost-happened between us, so that my cheeks could possibly return to their normal color.

  “I know how to cook,” I say, in a tentative voice.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Mr. Holt says at the same time that Aidan says, “No, it’s okay, Amber.”

  Despite their protests, the idea grows on me. “Really, I’d enjoy it,” I say. “And Aidan’s been doing me a favor helping me learn chemistry. I’d be glad to make dinner.”

  Aidan and his dad exchange raised eyebrows and shrugs. “You’re welcome to the kitchen,” Aidan tells me, “but I don’t know if you’ll find actual food in there.”

  I jump up and head in, now filled with curiosity as if I’m about to open a challenge basket on a Food Network reality show. Mr. Holt hastily exits the kitchen as I enter, so I root around freely and take an inventory of their ingredients and supplies.

  The selection is meager, but I’m proud when the inspiration strikes to make omelets. I find salsa and cheese, bread for toast, and get started.

  Aidan asks what he can do to help, and though the idea of cooking with him is very appealing, it’s not as if there are any ingredients to prep, like fresh vegetables to wash or slice, so I tell him he can clear and se
t the table.

  Just mentioning the table makes me blush anew. I can feel my face getting hot again, and I’m glad I’m at the stove with my back turned.

  When only ten minutes later I tell Aidan and his dad that dinner is ready, they both look at me as though I’ve performed some sort of magic.

  We get settled around the table, and I’m both grateful and mortified to be seated at the spot where I’d been hanging on for dear life not that long ago. At least Aidan’s dad isn’t sitting here.

  “Amber, this is the best thing I’ve eaten in … I don’t know how long,” Mr. Holt says after his first bite.

  “You must eat a lot of pizza,” I say with a smile.

  “It’s really good, Amber,” Aidan agrees. Such high praise over something so simple feels almost embarrassing, but it’s also gratifying.

  They eat their food even faster than I prepared it, pausing only briefly between bites for conversation.

  “How did the two of you meet?” Mr. Holt asks.

  I glance toward Aidan, unsure how to answer. “Amber came in to the tutoring center Monday,” he says. “She’s completely hopeless at chemistry, so I offered to give her extra help.” His tone lets his dad know he’s teasing me.

  “It’s kind of true,” I say. “But Aidan’s a great teacher.”

  Mr. Holt takes a drink of water and then looks between Aidan and me, possibly wondering if there’s more to our relationship than studying.

  “What do you do, Mr. Holt?” I ask.

  He laughs before answering me. “I’m a chemical engineer. And I’m glad to hear Aidan’s still on top of the subject.”

  I laugh with him, but blush inwardly at his choice of words. Aidan picks up on it too; he smirks at me and raises an eyebrow.

  Aidan takes another bite of omelet. “How’s your project for the city going, Dad?”

  As Mr. Holt responds, it gives me a little jolt to remember that the Aidan sitting next to me at a family dinner table is the same one I saw burning up the stage in front of a packed house of fans.

  Would those fans be able to imagine him here, in his quiet home, a dutiful son with an intelligent mind full of science facts? I feel honored somehow, to see this side of him, but wonder why I find it so hard to merge the two sides in my mind.

  Aidan and his dad wait for me to finish my meal, and then they work together to clean up without even discussing it.

  “Want to watch TV with us, Amber?” Mr. Holt asks when the dishes are put away.

  The invitation is tempting; I feel so comfortable here with them, despite the earlier frenzied panic when Aidan’s dad got home. But it’s getting late, and I have other studying to do.

  “Thank you, but I should get going.” I shoot a look at Aidan, wondering if he had any other plans for us tonight.

  “Come back anytime,” Mr. Holt says. “Pizza’s on us, next time.”

  I laugh as I gather my things. “Thank you. Good night.”

  “I’ll walk you home,” Aidan says.

  “That’s okay. I’m fine.”

  He steps out onto the porch with me and closes the door behind us. “Dinner was delicious,” he says, brushing my hair aside and pulling me close to him.

  “Thank you.”

  “But not quite as good as the appetizer.” He nuzzles the side of my face, with a low rumbling sound of enjoyment in his throat. “I’m sorry we got interrupted. I really like making you come.”

  I squirm a bit with awkward embarrassment, but it’s a happy feeling. “Uh, yeah. Me too. I mean—”

  He shoots me a quizzical look, eyebrow arched. “You really are a good girl, aren’t you?”

  There’s no hint of criticism in his tone, but his comment cools my warm glow just a bit. “Is that bad?” I ask.

  “No,” he says. “No, it’s not.” He glances backward toward the house and seems lost in thought for a few beats, but then he steps in close again and gives me a long, slow kiss. I drop my backpack, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him back for all I’m worth.

  The evening air is cool, but Aidan’s embrace is warm, and as always, his touch heats me up fast. As his tongue explores my mouth, I think of where else his tongue has thrilled me tonight, and I melt against him.

  He squeezes me tighter, kisses me deeper, and when we finally break apart, both of us are breathing hard. Aidan takes my hand and put it between us, on his jeans. “See what you do to me?” he whispers.

  An unwelcome thought from my protective side flashes through my mind. Doesn’t every girl do that to you? But I’m instantly ashamed of the thought and push it away. I’ve seen more of Aidan. I know now that he’s not just a player. Right?

  It’s twilight now, dusk deepening in the streets. Aidan takes each of my hands in his and squeezes them as he touches his forehead to mine for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?”

  “That’s okay. It’s not far.” Not that I would mind walking with him — not at all — but he’s already spent a lot of time with me and I’m sure he has his own studying to do. I pick up my bag, and Aidan pulls me in for one last kiss.

  “Be safe,” he says.

  I look back when I get to the sidewalk. He’s standing inside his doorway, watching me, and I feel a tug deep inside me. I wish I didn’t have to leave; I wish I could stay with him.

  I give him a wave, and he waves back. I walk home slowly, lost in my thoughts, with a sad feeling winding through them that I can’t quite define.

  19

  Aidan

  Back inside the house, I find myself wandering around, at a loss. I’m never at a loss because there’s always plenty to do — homework, songwriting, working out, cleaning the bathroom — and I don’t normally have trouble getting on with whatever needs to be done, even cleaning.

  But something’s eating at me, and I’m not sure what.

  I’m standing in the doorway to the living room, hands in my pockets, not focusing on anything at all, when Dad, his attention still on the TV, says, “I like her.”

  I get a strange feeling of pleasure at his words, as though it matters that he approve of her. “I like her too,” I say.

  I stare mindlessly at the screen for a few minutes and then go to my room, shutting the door behind me. Irritation is building up inside me, and when I’m alone in my own space, I realize there’s sadness welling up too. And then I know what’s wrong.

  I miss Amber. I wish she were still here.

  It takes me a minute to let that realization settle into my bones. I enjoy women, but missing them? It’s not something I do. It sets off warning alarms in my head.

  There’s something about Amber I haven’t been able to resist, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a lot more of her. But I’m starting to suspect that she hasn’t had much experience — hell, I can tell she hasn’t had much experience.

  She might even be a virgin, which is the last kind of girl I should be hooking up with.

  There were moments today when it felt like we were a couple, and letting her get that idea will only set her up for hurt. She’ll expect us to do couple things, spend time together, go out on the weekends. I don’t want any of that.

  I like Amber a lot. But even if I were in the market for a girlfriend, my life right now doesn’t have room for one. Between my class load, my work at the tutoring center, and the band, I don’t have time left over for relationship stuff.

  Maybe I should stop all the messing around and just tutor her. I like to have fun with women, but I’m not out to hurt anyone.

  My phone vibrates and I check my messages. I’ve got two from the band with updates about a time for our practice tomorrow. Not for the first time, I wonder if I should leave Throwback. I love performing with them, but the band takes a lot of my time, and I don’t want the same things the rest of the guys do. They’re a good group, and I love the music, but I really wish I weren’t being pulled in so many directions.

  I toss my phone down on my desk where it slides into a stack of book
s. Letting out a sigh, I roll my head side to side to stretch my neck muscles, put on my earphones, blast some music, and start to study.

  20

  Amber

  I try to wait until Monday to see Aidan again, but on Friday I spot a flyer announcing a Throwback show at a place called Buzzkill just off campus, and by Saturday morning I know I won’t be able to stay away.

  When Megan gets up, I ask her if she’ll go with me to the concert.

  “Look who’s turning into the groupie party animal,” she teases as she pokes through our stash of snack food.

  “I’m not—I hardly—” I start to protest but she interrupts me.

  “I’m joking. Obviously I know why you want to go to the show. The one reason you want to go.”

  “Well, they are a good band,” I say.

  Megan snorts. “Yeah, you’re a big fan of the band.” She laughs. “Sure, I’ll go, if you don’t mind me ogling your boyfriend a little.”

  “He’s not my—”

  “Relax,” she says, opening a granola bar. “Is it okay if Eric tags along again? I told him we’d hang out tonight.”

  “Of course.”

  That night the three of us walk to the show together. The club is much bigger than the bar where I met Aidan, and the crowd there doesn’t seem quite as rough, but the place is packed and everyone seems to be there for the band. Throwback isn’t even on yet, and we can’t get anywhere near the stage.

  “Want to push our way through, Amber?” Megan asks.

  Before I can answer, Eric speaks up. “You’re not going to leave me back here.”

  “You can come with us,” Megan says.