Slow Body Rock (Rockstar Romance) Read Free Page A

meds for his headache. “We doing this or what? Pick a fucking song, maestro.”
    Pushing off the wall put me dead center in the room. I was positive I saw Lola flinch, leaning away on her bench. Everything she did to me made me want to curse myself, or to curse her. How could one girl drive me so insane? “Let's play Velvet Lost,” I grunted, razors sinking in my words. Hiding my hunger for Lola was so fucking hard. The only way to even try was to embrace my voracious anger.
    “Fine, whatever,” Colt grumbled. His mood was bleak, but he had himself to blame. He never should have gotten so drunk. But unlike Johnny, I'd never known Colt to let his habits ruin his music. When he started drumming, my confidence returned.
    Together we began our mixture of sounds. Porter let the base punctuate, making Lola's sweet licks of strings sound so clean. Chugging from my water, I dropped the empty bottle aside. It fell, forgotten. “Sticky sweetness, burning fast. My love, my dear, this will be your last...” I whispered into the mic, let the lyrics coat my tongue and soul. Every song I ever wrote had a meaning. It was something the band fought with me over at times.
    I would tell them a lyric couldn't be changed. I'd fold my arms and stand my ground at Brenda's laments. It was my music, my fucking heart and core and god damn blood.
    No one was allowed to change it.
    Looking straight at Lola, I gauged her playing. She wasn't struggling like yesterday. That was good. We didn't have the luxury of time for her mistakes. “If I take you from the grave, you'll be mine... you'll be mine...” Her eyes glimmered, sticking to me, then my lips. I spread them; a kiss across the room. A promise I would taste her as soon as I found a way.
    “Lost in time,” I hissed, all rocks and leather. “Your end is mine. My love will be your last.”
    Just like that, Lola missed her mark. Dead air, a wrong note, she was stammering as much as if she'd forgotten her words during a speech. To give her credit, she recovered and kept going. The tension in her neck and shoulders was clear as day.
    Yesterday, when she'd kept making mistakes, I'd burst with disgust. Rage had taken over my brain. Staring at her red skin, the sweaty luster on her throat... I knew what was happening.
    I finally understood.
    She messes up when she gets sucked into my words. When I sing at her, and she feels it, she can't control herself. It was delicious and awful and astounding all at once. What fucking power I had over her. I could make her so weak, she'd forget every bit of talent she had and turn into someone who'd never touched a guitar before.
    I could break Lola.
    That shouldn't have excited me so much.
    Everyone was still playing. They had only stopped when I'd been the one to quit before. I'd always demanded perfection and hard work. Inside of me, a tempting wall of sin was tearing me in two. Lola needed to perform up to par. The band relied on her doing her best.
    But the idea of seeing her crumbling because of me , to have that direct of a connection with her mind and body...
    Fuck, it made me shiver.
    When I sang my lines, my mouth was salivating. “Velvet lost on the skin of your bones, velvet rugs that lead to just stones.” With every fiber of intensity, I channeled the heat from my core to my voice. My jeans were tight from my excitement. I needed Lola's reactions. I needed them so bad it made my molars throb. “Sweet love, last love, you'll burn for me...”
    There; the twang of failure. Her misstep sang to my heart, soared through me like a bird with a promise. No one saw it, but I trembled with need. God, was I so fucked up that I'd find such joy in touching her the only way I could? Caressing her with my song until she shattered?
    I am that sick, yes. I really am. Clutching the mic, I let the music fade on the unfinished song. Watching Lola, my forehead was smooth. Everything inside of me, the hidden pieces, were wrinkling and slithering. “This is why I