Rock Addiction (Rock Kiss 1)

One month. Don’t let the pain to come steal your one glorious month with him.

Swallowing her tears, she held out her hand to the rock star who kept slicing away pieces of her heart.

Chapter 16

Fox slid into the bath behind Molly, luxuriating in having her here. He knew it was a big step for the woman whose smile had captivated him and whose heart, intelligence, and honest, generous sensuality now held him prisoner. He intended to do everything in his power to make her see his life through a less aggressive and less terrifying lens. Being a roadie wasn’t the same as being his, but it provided a gentle, easy introduction to his world—because he wanted, needed her with him, and he’d do whatever it took to convince her to take a chance on him.

The hard stuff… yeah, that could wait until she’d committed to him.

Turning her face, she kissed his jaw. “I missed you last night.”

He’d missed her, too, hating the cold loneliness of the hotel bed. Now, cupping the heavy warmth of her br**sts from behind, he took her mouth in ravenous demand, soothing the ragged edges of his need enough that he could take this slow. “How was dinner with Thea and Charlotte?” Meeting her best friend was on his agenda—Charlotte was clearly important to Molly, and so the other woman was important to Fox.

“I made a Thai mango-chicken salad. It was a success.” She softened against him as he moved his hands from her br**sts to massage her shoulders and arms, aware how hard Maxwell could work his people.

Molly sighed and closed her eyes, the quiet expression of trust his undoing. “Can I just stay here?”

Grabbing the loofah she’d fished out of her toiletries case, he squeezed some liquid soap onto it. “No,” he said, smoothing the puffy, girly thing over her body for the simple pleasure of touching her. “I f**king hate cold water.”

Her laugh was startled, her eyes sparkling when she looked up. As she sassed him about being a tough-guy rocker, he thought of the wistfulness he’d sensed in her when she’d spoken of the amount of time they spent in bed and promised himself they’d do something silly and touristy and fun together in Sydney.

He wanted to take his Molly on a date.

Molly slept in Fox’s arms. The first time she woke, it was to the thick heat of him sliding inside her; the second time, she found herself alone, though the pale morning light told her it wasn’t yet time to go to the site—and Fox would’ve woken her for that anyway. Sitting up, she pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around for a note. It was scrawled on a slip of hotel paper thrust under the radio alarm clock.

David f**ked up. Gone to see what I can do.—Fox

David? The one the press called the Gentleman of Rock?

Frowning, she pushed off the comforter Fox must’ve covered her with before he left, his body heat more than sufficient to keep her warm when he was with her. She had to have slept through a phone call. Or Fox had already been up and grabbed it before it could wake her—her rock star, she’d learned, was a surprisingly early riser. Hoping David wasn’t in too much trouble, she showered and dressed for the day before calling Fox. It went straight to voice mail.

“It’s Molly,” she said. “Just wanted to say I hope it’s nothing serious. Talk to you when you get back.”

Since she didn’t know if Fox would return before she had to meet up with the crew, she decided to go down to the hotel’s breakfast buffet. “Mind if I join you?” she asked when she saw Maxwell sitting alone at a table in the relatively empty dining room.

“I never say no to a pretty girl.”

Smiling, Molly went to get a bowl of cereal and some toast. There was fresh coffee waiting for her at the table when she returned, as well as a glass of orange juice. “Seriously,” she said, “this is the life.”

“Not after you eat the same crap weeks in a row.” Maxwell’s heavy black eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “When we’re on tour, sometimes all I want is a bowl of grits or old-fashioned oatmeal.”

Molly hadn’t considered the situation from a long-term perspective, and as soon as she did, she saw his point. It was nice to be waited on and to have so many options at the buffet, but she’d be hankering for her own cereal within days, as well as her favorite brand of tea. “Do you carry things from home to make it easier?”

“Yep. What you’re drinking, it’s the best damn coffee in the universe—I had the hotel restaurant brew up a pot from my stash.” He took a sip, sighed. “Different folks bring different things, but most everyone has at least a couple of items.”

Molly tried to think of what it must be like to be on the road weeks or months at a time and couldn’t quite comprehend it. It made her understand some of the “diva” requests occasionally reported in the media—for what often seemed an odd thing about which to throw a star tantrum. Food, though, was only the tip of the iceberg.

“You must miss your family,” she said, having learned yesterday that the crew boss had a wife he adored as well as two teenage children.

“Yeah, it can be tough, but the boys pay me well enough that both my boys go to a fancy private school where they rub shoulders with the children of diplomats.” Pride in his smile. “At least my kids think my job is awesome since I can get them and their friends into concerts now and then, so I don’t have the hassle of having to deal with resentment. As for Kim and me, we have phone sex down to an art.”