Rock Stars Do It Dirty (7 page)

Chase felt her muscles clamp down, squeezing his finger as she came. He finally let himself loose then, coming with her, driving as deep as he dared in slow but powerful thrusts. Tess was wild, thrashing beneath him, shrieking and writhing and sobbing. Chase came hard, desperate from having held back for so long, from having gone so long without sex.
 

After nearly a minute of body-wracking climax, Tess went still, but for her ragged breathing. Chase withdrew from her, lifted her to the middle of the bed and drew the blankets over her. He went into his
en suite
bathroom and discarded the condom before washing his hands twice. When he approached the bed again, Tess was snoring.

He smiled to himself, then slipped on a pair of gym shorts and got himself a beer from the fridge. He hiked himself up onto the kitchen counter and drank his beer, head slumped back against the counter, lost in thought. After a trackless amount of time, he finished his beer, and then a second, and then a third, his mind and heart a muddle of half-formed desires and fears and worries.

Foremost in his mind was the knowledge that he was far, far from sated. He’d ravaged Tess and left her passed out in his bed. She really was a fiery, spirited little thing, but he’d simply wrung every last drop from her. He didn’t think she’d be complaining come morning, but he knew for as much fun as he’d have with her, eventually it would end.

He, however, was still burning with need, adrenaline, desire, and pent-up frustration.
 

Tess simply couldn’t give him what he needed. It was through no fault of hers, though, and that was the part that left him sad. Throughout their dinner conversation, he’d come to like and respect her, and the fact that she could kick his ass in the ring turned him on something fierce. He wished they were more compatible in bed.

He drained his fourth beer and then slipped into bed next to Tess. She moved against him, instinctively spooning with him.
 

She half-turned to face him, opening one eye. “You lose the bet, Chase.”

“What? No way. I’m not done yet.”

Tess laughed. “I hate to say this, but
I
am. I can’t take any more. I really can’t. I’ll be sore as hell in the morning as it is. I cannot physically handle another orgasm. The bet was four in three hours, and that’s not happening. Therefore, you lose.”

Chase laughed. “Fine. I concede.”

“You would. Bitch.”

He laughed again, and Tess smiled sleepily at him, then turned back over and was soon asleep once more.

Chase fell asleep thinking of green eyes. Only, these green eyes were framed by red curls as fiery as the woman beneath them.
 

CHAPTER 3

 
A fall wind blew hard down the corridor of Michigan Avenue in Chicago. The sidewalks were full of pedestrians burdened with shopping bags and the streets jammed with taxis and buses and private cars. The sky overhead between the towers was gray and heavy. Flecks of something cold and wet—possibly snow, or rain, or a mix of the two—spattered against Jamie’s face as she bustled from the door of the high-rise condo building. She had her phone in her hand, an iMessage in the gray bubble:
Meet me at the corner, babe. Dinner reservations in twenty.
Her response, in blue:
K. B right there.

She flipped the collar of black pea coat up and hunched her shoulders, hustling through the post-Thanksgiving shopping crowd to meet Ian. His mother had relocated to Chicago, and Ian had ended up moving to Chicago with her. He didn’t live
with
his mother, but nearby. Laura Collins, his mother, was a short, sweet woman with iron-gray hair and steely blue eyes. She adored Jamie, but had hinted in more than one conversation that she didn’t think Jamie was entirely happy.

Which was true, of course. She’d put everything she had into making things with Ian work. She commuted to Chicago every Thursday after her last shift and spent Friday and Saturday with Ian and his mother, then made the four-hour drive back for work Sunday afternoon. Ian met her in Detroit a few times a month as well, and overall, things worked. They worked.

But…Jamie was restless. She spent most of the four-hour trip twice a week trying not to think about how much longer she could pretend she was okay.
 

Ian knew. She saw the knowledge in his eyes at times, in the way she’d catch him gazing sadly at her, expectantly. Waiting.
 

Ian had something planned for today. He’d made reservations, which was unlike him. Usually they did burgers and beers at a local pub, or ate in. This was
an event
. He had something to say to her, and she knew it. It was probably a preemptive strike. His way of sparing her feelings, in an odd manner.

She found Ian waiting at the street corner, watching her approach. The sad look was in eyes again, distant and semi-hollow.
 

“Hello, love,” he said, with false cheer.

She kissed him, a brief touch of the lips. They pulled away at the same time. “Hey, yourself.”

“Hungry?” Ian took her hand, and they walked through the crowd together.

“Famished. Traffic into the city was hellish.”

“Sorry to hear it, darling. I worry about you making the drive so often in that dodgy old auto of yours. I’m always afraid it’s going to go tits up on you halfway here.”

Jamie chuckled at his turn of phrase. “Yeah, it’s definitely a possibility, I guess. But it’s fine for now. Besides, if it does go tits up, I’ll just call you, and you’ll rescue me.” Out of habit, she nudged closer and smirked at him. “And then as a reward,
I’ll
go tits up for you.”

Ian laughed. “Oh, god, I
really
don’t think that phrase means what you think it means.”

Jamie shoved him with her hip. “Oh, shut up. I know exactly what it means, I was just using it in another context.”

“And
I
know
that
. I was just teasing you.”

They had a long, leisurely dinner, filled with the idle conversation of a couple familiar and comfortable with each other. It was laced with tension, though. Jamie felt it, and she saw it in Ian’s eyes.
 

Finally, she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Out with it, Ian.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I—I’m not sure where to start.”

“Just start with the truth.” She flagged the waiter and held up her wine glass.

Ian sipped from his own wine and then set it aside. “You aren’t happy. With me, I mean.”

Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, it’s not that. Not really. It’s…complicated.”

“Un-complicate it.”
 

“God. That’s a lot easier to say than to do. As cliché as this is, and as much as I hate how it’s going to sound…it’s not you, it’s me.”

“That’s fucking bollocks, Jamie.”

“I know, I know. But it’s
true
.” The server arrived to pour Jamie another measure of cabernet, and she sipped it greedily. “There’s just—”

“Someone else?”

“Yes. No. Sort of. There isn’t anyone else in the sense you’re thinking. I haven’t been seeing anyone else. I promise. But my heart is…I just can’t—” Jamie cut herself off with a huff. “Shit. I’m making a mess of this.”

“Sorry, darling, but you kind of are making a bit of a muddle of it. Just spit it out. You’re in love with someone else. I get it.”

“It’s not that simple, though. It’s just one of those things that won’t go away, you know? No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to let go.”

Ian scratched his jaw and then fiddled with the cloth napkin on the table. “I do remember that conversation we had. In my hotel room in Buttfuck, Michigan. You said some rot about forbidden love. You said you were over him.”

“It wasn’t rot, Ian.”

“It’s just a word, Jamie. I know it wasn’t. I just meant I remember you mentioning this other guy. And you’re still not over him enough to be happy with me.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to be over him, Ian. I do. I really,
really
do want to be over him. But I just…can’t seem to do it.”

“And I can’t do this with you if you’re not.” Ian tossed back the rest of his wine and watched Jamie’s reaction.

She only nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry to have wasted so much of your time.” She stood up, leaving her half-f wine glass, and turned to walk away.

“Jamie, wait. You didn’t waste—shit.” He cut himself off when he realized Jamie wasn’t listening.
 

She was already out the door and into the flurries of hard, stinging snow. She wasn’t crying. Not again. Her eyes were stinging from the wind, was all. There was no reason to be upset. She knew it was coming. She would have done it herself soon. She wasn’t being fair to Ian, or to herself.
 

It still didn’t explain why the hole in her heart ached so badly.

*
 
*
 
*

Chase flopped over onto his back, and Tess let out a long, contented sigh.
 

“Chase, baby. I don’t know how you do that to me every time,” Tess said.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Chase turned over and kissed her. “I’m just that good,” he said.

Tess pinched his thigh. “And you’re just that arrogant.”

“It’s not arrogance, it’s confidence.”

“Same thing, babe.” Tess scooted out of bed and gathered her clothes, tossed them in her suitcase, then dug out a clean pair of panties and a bra. Her uniform was already pressed and hanging on the rack near the hotel door.
 

Chase watched her diminutive form as she moved around the room, gathering the rest of her things and packing them away, then hopped in the shower. He was every bit as attracted to her as the day he’d met her three months ago, but his ability to pretend she satisfied him was waning. He hated the pretense. Hated feeling like shit when he had to paste on a smile and act exhausted after a vigorous session in bed with her, when the truth was he was always holding back and was usually just getting started when she was finished, left partially sated and entirely frustrated.
 

He had an inkling she knew, but he hadn’t had the courage to broach the subject. She had a flight to Boston in a few hours, so he doubted the discussion would happen right then. He had a gig himself in a while, headlining at the Mayne Stage here in Chicago.
 

He liked Tess, a lot. He had a good time with her.
 

But…it just wasn’t enough.
 

Tess emerged from the shower to find Chase standing naked at the eleventh-floor window, staring out at the swirling snow. She stood next to him in silence for a while, then looked up at him.

“This isn’t working, Chase.”

He glanced down at her. Serious green eyes gazed back up at him, calm and collected. “No, I guess not.” He turned back to the view of downtown Chicago. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know. It’s…I’m just sorry this didn’t work. You’re an amazing girl, and I wish—”

“I can’t keep up with you. I know I can’t. But I think that’s only a part of the problem. There’s something else. That thing you said you’d tell me ‘eventually.’” Tess leaned her head against his arm. “This is eventually, but you still don’t have to tell me. It’s someone else. I see the way you look at me sometimes. Maybe I look like her, or something. I don’t know. But that’s what it is.”

“Yeah, sort of. But it’s—”

“Complicated,” Tess said in sync with him.

“Yeah,” Chase said. “It’s really complicated.”

Tess turned away from him, dropped the towel, and stepped into her panties, then hooked her bra around her middle and slipped it on. “I don’t need to know the details. But I’ll tell you this: A lot of the time, when someone says something is complicated, what they really mean is they’re afraid of the truth. They’re afraid of what will happen, afraid of the consequences.” She turned back to Chase. “Good things often come with tough consequences. It just makes us appreciate the good that much more.”

“You’re right,” Chase said. “But it’s not me you have to convince. It’s her.”

Tess shrugged. “
I
don’t have to convince anyone.
You
do. And if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.” She put on her flight attendant uniform, zipped her bags, and then set her rolling suitcase on end, handle extended. “I care about you, Chase. You’re a good man and an incredible lover. I really am sorry this didn’t work out, too.”

Chase thunked his head against the cold glass, then moved toward Tess. “I haven’t been fair to you, Tess. And that’s what I’m sorry for.”

She smiled at him, a little sadly. “I knew this was coming a long time ago. I knew it was coming when you said you didn’t want to talk about it back in Eric’s gym. I was just being selfish. I wanted a piece of you for myself.”

“Well, you got a piece. A big piece.” He grinned lecherously, but his heart wasn’t in it, and neither was hers. “Seriously, though. This goodbye sucks.”

Tess nodded. “Yes, it does. All goodbyes do.”

He leaned toward her and kissed her, careful not to smudge her makeup or wrinkle her uniform. When he let her go, Tess took a deep breath and let it out.

“Goodbye, Chase.”

“’Bye, Tess.” He watched her leave, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself now.

He took a long shower and dressed, packed his one duffel bag, and left the hotel. The snow was bitterly cold against his shower-hot skin, and the wind was even worse, snatching his breath away. He walked aimlessly, trying to empty his heart, snuff out the turmoil inside himself. He shrugged deeper into his thick coat, eyes downcast, attention wandering. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and his hands were dug into his pockets. He thought he might be capable of just walking, walking, walking until the snow buried him or the cold froze him, or the hole in his chest ate him from the inside out.

 
Then he rounded a corner, and something soft yet firm slammed into him, knocking him backward. He slipped on a patch of ice, tangled up with whoever he’d run into, and tumbled to the sidewalk, slamming his head into the concrete. He saw stars, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. Then something familiar spiked through the fog and the thunder in his skull to his awareness. It was subtle at first, a combination of scents, lotion and perfume and shampoo, woman-scent…and then a series of sensations, the way her body fit against his, a tickle of hair on his face, and the heat of an intense gaze.