Rock My Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove

I look down at the table, hoping he doesn’t think I sound like an idiot.

“I want to be a songwriter,” I say. “I used to want to be a singer too, but… well, I just don’t think it’s for me.”

“Why not?” he asks.

I glance at him quickly. He’s looking at me with complete attention, the city drifting away, any concerns about my dad or the rest of the world ceasing to exist.

Shrugging, I murmur, “I just don’t think I’m very good. But I love singing, I really do… when I’m on my own.”

“I bet you’re better than you think,” he says huskily.

“What makes you say that?”

He reaches across the table, softly tweaking my chin and guiding my gaze to his. He stares intensely into my eyes and I stare back, my belly swirling with desire and heat.

“It’s the way you lit up just now,” he says. “Your whole face, your whole… your whole being, Billie. I can tell how much you love it.”

I reach up and touch his hand. “Loving something doesn’t mean you’re good at it.”

“No. But it helps. Maybe you’ll sing a little for me one day.”

I squeeze my hand harder around his, instinct driving me as memories surge up in my mind. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m honestly not very good.”

“How long have you been singing?” he asks.

“Ever since I was a little kid. Up until a couple of years ago, but then… Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s history. I don’t want to drag it all up.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “But if you want to share something, I’ll listen.”

Our hands are still locked together, his touch sending warmth up and down my arm, all around my body. I hold tightly onto him, warning myself this isn’t why he invited me over.

From the way his hands are constantly seeking me out – the way he drove his manhood against my ass – I know he wants to take things further. My heart skips at the thought, as I imagine how he’s going to react when I tell him the truth, if I tell him the truth.

“There was a talent show in school,” I say, even if I never talk about this. “The captain of the football team… I wasn’t even attracted to him, not really. But he started lavishing me with attention, telling me I was going to be a rockstar, telling me I was so talented and… And I fell for it.”

“What did he do?” Aaron asks darkly.

His tone reminds me of a predator’s growl, and for a crazy second, I imagine him charging up to Clay and smacking him across the face. I imagine Clay falling, his bullying laughter dying on his lips.

“It was all a trick,” I say, blinking away the urge to cry. “He’d arranged for the football team, a bunch of the cheerleaders, and a few kids who wanted to be part of the in-crowd to be at the show. And then, once I stepped onto the stage and started singing…I was so nervous, Aaron. I could hardly walk. I could hardly see. Once I started singing, everyone started to laugh at me. At least, it felt like everyone.”

“That piece of shit,” Aaron snaps. “He had no right to humiliate you like that.”

“I ran off the stage and, after that…the idea of singing in front of anyone else just makes me, I don’t know, sort of seize up. It’s like I’m reliving that moment, remembering the laughter.”

“What’s the piece of dirt’s name?”

“Clay.”

“Clay what?”

I look into the fierceness of his expression, the flaring in his wolfish eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’d happily find him and teach him a lesson. Because he had no goddamn right to make you feel so small. Because nobody should ever make you feel that way.”

I reel at the passion in his husky voice. Despite it only being a couple of weeks since we met – and despite this being our first date – he sounds like a protective husband, like a man who’ll never let anyone hurt me. My belly warms at the thought.

“I don’t want you to do that,” I say quietly. “It’s not worth it. It’s over now.”

Aaron sighs, nodding. “I’ll respect your wishes. But if you ever change your mind, you let me know. I’d have no problem showing him what happens when you bully innocent women.”

“Anyway.” I sit back, forcing a smile. “That’s enough about me.”

Aaron smirks. “I don’t think that’s possible, Billie. I could listen to you all night. And when you’re ready – whenever that is – I’d love to hear you sing. I’d love to take a look at some of your songs, too, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Why?”

He tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Well… why are you so interested?”

His expression turns dark again, difficult to read.

It’s like there’s a whole world contained behind the fierceness in his eyes, a whole unreadable universe.