Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

“Nope. Mine now. I’ll expect it back when you’re done.”

“Fat chance, rocker boy. Now stop thinking about whatever it is you’re obsessing over. You look constipated.”

No one had told me it was such hard work being a rockstar.

At least we’d been at it for a while, so that meant we’d have to be done soon.

I hoped.

“That’s it. Just that pose. Angle your head a little. Yes, yes. Fan out your hair on the cushion beside you. Rest your head on your hand. That’s it.”

I arched a brow. “Fan out my hair? Do you take me for a Fabio lookalike, love?”

She grumbled at me as I did as she’d asked, swallowing a chuckle.

Still in a crouch, she kept snapping away on Matilda. Pocketing each picture she took as if it was contraband. She scuttled sideways and back, rose almost to full height and then dropped back down.

My dick hardened with her every movement.

I patted the cushion beside me and tilted my head. “C’mere, Magic. You’re too far away.”

“I’m working. Look sexy.”

“As if I could look anything else.” The smirk that came to my lips had her swapping cameras for her SLR and snapping faster.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Probably why your overzealous fans have made my mail

slot their litter box lately.”

The smirk slid away and I sat up straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged and stepped closer to the sofa before going into a crouch again and tipping sideways. It amazed me she didn’t fall over, but she maintained the pose while my heart hammered out of control.

“It’s just the usual, I’m sure. Part of being with a famous dude who’s wanted by legions of women. Not exactly what I’m used to.”

I leaned forward and clasped my hands between my knees. She hissed, but I didn’t move back into position. “Has someone been hassling you?”

“Not hassling. Just sending me shit.”

“Zoe. Spit it out. Shit like what?”

She lowered her camera and met my gaze head-on. “Pictures of us on the beach. My head’s scribbled out in heavy black ink. In another one, I’m at your show that first night. Someone caught a picture of me on the side stage. But I’m X’d out like I don’t exist.” She jerked a shoulder and lifted the camera again. “Actually, stay just like that. Broody rocker boy works too.”

“I’m not brooding. I don’t like people sending you things like that.”

“I don’t like it either, but it goes with the territory, right? Hey, can you angle your head a little? Lock your jaw? Yes. That’s perfect.” She went back to her rapid-fire pictures and I tried to hold the position while questions burned on my tongue.

“Does it? This territory is all new to me. It never occurred to me that they’d go so far as to find out your address—” I broke off and pushed a hand through my hair, making her swear. “Fuck, maybe you’ll need to move.”

She didn’t answer so I dropped my hand and laced my fingers together again to keep from picking something up and throwing it. Why not have a righteous temper tantrum? That would get her to listen to reason. If I even knew what reason was in this case. How did people handle this kind of thing day in and day out?

If only I could ask Simon. He’d had plenty of experience with this. Maybe I would. Just in case he had any…I don’t know…tips. It wasn’t as if I could shelter her away and protect her from the world.

Never mind the trouble I’d brought into her bed. If this was another piece of that—

No. This was just excitable women. Not something more sinister.

Though that was bad enough. By the time I’d realized how much more I was being scrutinized—and how Zoe’s picture was getting flung all over, and not just to my Instagram followers—it was too late. I’d tried to shield her from pictures during our Monterey show weekend, but the barn door was wide open there already. She’d been aligned with me, and now someone out there wanted her out of the way.