The Rocker Who Cherishes Me (The Rocker 8)

Everything in the room faded until there was just me and Marissa. Her nails biting into my back as she kissed me back with a passion that rivaled my own.

Chapter 7

Marissa

One minute I was dancing with my friends, having a nice time even though I was tipsy and on my way to being drunk. I’d been determined to forget that Wroth was even in the room with me, and with each drink I consumed, the easier it was to pretend. When you were on your way to drunk town it was surprisingly easy to pretend.

The next minute I was in his arms, the feel of his front pressed to my back making my entire body come alive even as my heart beat my chest to death with a mixture of excitement and hurt. I’d felt the tears start to burn my throat because it felt so good to have his arms around me while he swayed to the beat of the music with me. Another thing that came easy when nearly drunk? Your emotions easily came bubbling to the surface. It wasn’t so easy, however, to hide them once they did. I wasn’t so sure I liked that and decided then and there that drinking so much was a bad idea. One I wasn’t likely to make again anytime soon.

And then I was facing him. A million different things bubbled up in my throat to scream at him but I didn’t get the chance to express one of them before his lips were on mine. I tried to remain impassive, to not respond to the heat of his mouth on me. I didn’t want to want him. My body, treacherous bitch that it was, didn’t give me an option before it shut down my brain and I was kissing Wroth back with a need that had been lying dormant for far too long.

Wroth tasted bitter from the beer he had been drinking, something I’d been unable to not notice as the night had gone on. He’d been drinking far more than I could ever remember him drinking in the past. I’d been concerned for him as I’d watched him drain beers five and six and when the bartender had given him beer seven I’d turned away, trying to force myself not to care that he was getting drunk.

The bitter taste of the beer, however, didn’t hide the underlying deliciousness of Wroth’s own particular taste. I gripped him harder, my nails sinking into his thick skin as I followed his tongue with my own and relearned the contours of his sexy mouth. I felt his rumbling groan against my aching breasts, telling me he liked my exploration.

The fact that we were in some VIP room with over fifteen other people that we knew and a few other people that we didn’t wasn’t a concern for me right then as I swallowed his taste over and over again. Drinking up his kisses as if I’d been lost in the desert for a year and he was the first drink of life-giving water. Between my legs my expensive panties that I’d ordered from my favorite website were growing damp from the desire that was robbing me of coherent thoughts. I wanted Wroth so badly. All thoughts of getting back at him, of making him hurt the way he had hurt me, were wiped from my mind for the moment as I took everything he was willing to offer.

When Wroth finally lifted his head, I was unable to comprehend it for a second and then I blinked my eyes open and met his espresso eyes. His pupils were dilated with desire to the point that there was no color left. His nostrils flared as if he were trying to inhale me with each breath he took. I blinked again, only just then realizing that my nails were so deep into his back I was probably drawing blood. Swiftly I dropped my hands, but didn’t know what to do with them as I took a step back from him.

With distance came sanity and the desire was exchanged with anger. “Why did you do that?” I demanded, taking another step away from him.

“Because I couldn’t stop myself,” he responded, his voice low and almost animalistic it was so choked with desire. “I’ve missed the taste of you, Mari. I’ve missed you. I can’t stand that you won’t let me near you.”

The pain that twisted his face made me hurt and I lowered my eyes so that I didn’t have to see it. His confession that he missed me was like an arrow to the chest, digging deep into my heart. I’d missed him too. Probably more than he had missed me. Our short-lived relationship was like a slide show through my mind every night before I fell asleep. Of course the slide show was always followed by the big screen performance of the ending to that fleeting relationship. And it would make the pain come back with a vengeance and I’d be left curled into a fetal position as I fell asleep each night with tears drying on my face.

Thinking of the pain I had to live with on a daily basis reminded me of the payback I was going to have by the end of this tour. I should start it all right now, give in to him and let him think I was malleable, ready to start where we had left off before I’d confronted him about what I’d walked in on that horrible night…

But not yet. I wasn’t ready to start letting him close again yet. I had to school myself in hardening my heart so that when the tour was over and I left Wroth with a broken, bleeding heart, I wasn’t going to be wrecked all over again myself.

Raising my head, I met his gaze momentarily before hurriedly looking away, to my left where Natalie, Linc, and Rhett were still dancing but watching me closely. They all looked concerned but I knew that Rhett was the most concerned of the three. Unlike Natalie and Linc, Rhett knew that I’d been fighting bouts of depression that were so atrocious that I had to battle thoughts of suicide. I’d confessed it to him earlier and swore him to secrecy. He’d agreed, but only after begging me to come to him if I had any more thoughts like that.

“Mari-” Wroth began but I shook my head, unable to deal with him and the pleading look in those espresso eyes of his.

“No.” I shook my head and took another step back. “I can’t. Not yet. I just…can’t.”

He let out a long, pain-filled breath. “I know. I messed up bad, sweetheart. I know that. But do you think…” Wroth shook his head, a grimace contorting that face that I still foolishly loved. “Do you think that…maybe..?”

“I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “Just give me time.”

He lifted a hand and I wasn’t quick enough to step back and avoid it as he cupped my chin and stepped forward to press a kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes tightly, savoring this gentle side of a man who was not gentle and never had been. Except with me. He’d always made me feel special, cared for. Precious. Cherished.

“I’d wait the rest of my life if it meant that you would forgive me.”

The words were a low rumble that brought tears to my eyes. And then he stepped back, turned and walked out of the room. Leaving me standing there with tears pouring down my face.