Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle 4)

“Okay,” I agree.

“The reality is, we’ll be photographed at some point. The press will catch on. After a while, it’ll be old news.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. This is the shitty part. If I don’t want to deal with his celebrity status, I’ll have to choose to lose him. Because he is who he is. He can’t change it.

And I don’t want him to.

“Okay,” I say again and smile at him. “No biggie.”

“You’re not a good liar,” he murmurs, his eyes serious. “It’s not as intense as what Luke when through, babe. His fans were obsessive. Mine are just… persistent.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “Okay.”

“Do you know any other words than ‘okay’?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond simply.

“Brat.” He laughs and hugs me to him. “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. We’ll be fine.”

I rest my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

God, he makes me nervous.

***

“What time is your interview?” Leo asks. He’s sitting next to me in the limo as we leave the airport.

I’m still squirming in my seat, wet and swollen. Who knew private airplane sex could be so fun?

Leo’s smile is smug. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I lift my chin and smooth my skirt over my legs. “Um, interview is at two this afternoon.”

“Good, we have time to go to my place first.”

“Where do you live?” I ask, curious to see where he calls home, and nervous as hell, and not about the interview.

Why does it make me nervous to be going to Leo’s house?

“Malibu,” he responds and kisses my knuckles.

“But my interview is in Burbank,” I remind him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be there on time.” The limo pulls onto the freeway and Leo pulls me to him, wraps his arm around me, and my eyes drift closed. I’m so damn tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, afraid that I’d sleep through the alarm.

“Sleep,” he whispers to me and kisses my hair. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

I try to sleep, but I just can’t seem to shut my brain down. I’m too nervous to see Leo’s house, about today’s interview, about the possibility of being recognized with him.

Yeah, that’s the part that makes me the most nervous. It’s been a long time since I saw my photo in a magazine, and I’d rather not start now. Not to mention, I turn into a raging bitch when I’m nervous.

Not good.

“What are you thinking?” He asks softly. My eyes find his in surprise and he smiles softly. “I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Just thinking about the interview.” It’s only a half-lie.

“You’ll do great.” His voice is flat.

“What’s wrong?” I ask with a frown.

“I just know you don’t want to move down here.” He shrugs.

“I’m not going over this again.” I roll my eyes and lean my cheek against his chest again.

“You’ll do great,” he repeats. “Here we are.”

The limo pulls through a gate and parks before a large, modern, white home. There are shrubs lining the driveway, and flower gardens here and there. “You must have a gardener.”

“I do.” He smiles and offers me his hand to help me out of the car. The driver pulls our bags out of the trunk and sets them on the front steps.

“We’re good from here, thanks.” Leo nods at him.

“Very good, sir.” The driver tips his hat and drives away.

“Welcome.” Leo grins and kisses me softly, unlocks the door and motions for me to go in ahead of him.

I feel like I’ve walked into the twilight zone.

I’m completely confused.

I hate it.

“This is… nice.” I mutter, my eyes trying to take everything in. It’s ultra modern. There is a white baby grand piano resting over a polar bear rug in one corner of the room. The three-piece furniture arrangement around a gas fireplace is also stark white. There are splashes of red and black pillows, throws and end tables scattered about.

The floors are cold marble.

The living area opens up to the state of the art kitchen and a small eating space. The cabinets are black, but again, the countertops are white marble. All of the appliances are stainless steel.

There is a spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor.

My eyes immediately find a gorgeous porch off the kitchen with an outdoor kitchen, fireplace, and steps down to an infinity pool.

“Let’s take our bags upstairs,” Leo murmurs and leads me to the stairs.

The upstairs is more of the same. Everything is crisply white with weird, modern art on the walls. We pass doors that I assume are to offices or spare bedrooms, and he leads me to a large, sparsely furnished master bedroom. The bed is the size of Alabama, soft and all the linens are white. There are black throw rugs covering the marble floor.

“Bathroom is through there.” He motions to the door to the left. “You can hang your things in the closet there, and the balcony is there.”

The balcony is the best thing I’ve seen so far. I wander over, open the glass door and step out onto the covered space. There are two oversized rocking chairs, and the view is breathtaking.

The ocean is bright blue, reflecting the sun. There is a slight breeze.

I would spend every minute of every day out here if I could.

“You haven’t said a word,” Leo says from behind me. I turn around and lean against the railing, watching him. His hair moves with the breeze. His tattooed hands are tucked in the pockets on his ass, pulling his red tee tightly over his hard chest.  “What are you thinking?”

“I would spend every day out on this balcony.”

He chuckles and nods. “I usually do when I’m here.”

“How often are you here?”

He frowns. “Not often. Maybe about two days every two to three months.”

“So, you spend roughly one to two weeks here each year?” I ask, surprised.

“Lately, yeah.”

“Damn, no wonder you needed a break.” I cross my arms over my chest. When will he leave again?

He tilts his head to the side, watching me closely. “What was that thought you just had?”

“Just thinking about your busy schedule,” I respond.

“That’s the second time you’ve lied to me today,” he murmurs softly, his eyes hard.