Page 20 of Saving the Rockstar

"Dibs," I mumbled into the duvet, my voice muffled by the plush fabric. Behind me, I heard Jared chuckle.

"Aren't you a little old for calling dibs? What's next, a pillow fort and lights-out by nine?"

I lifted my head just enough to shoot him a baleful glare, which he returned with a smirk.

Smartass.

"You're never too old for dibs," I informed him. "It's the law of the jungle. And if you're nice to me, I might even share my animal crackers later."

He rolled his eyes, but I could see the way his mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "Careful, rockstar. You keep spoiling me like that, I might start getting ideas above my station."

"Can't have that," I agreed, rolling onto my back and lacing my hands behind my head. "Next thing you know, you'll be demanding piggyback rides to the bus and making me check under the bed for monsters."

That startled a laugh out of him, bright and unguarded. Something in my chest squeezed tight at the sight.

Luckily, Jared chose that moment to stretch, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of taut, tanned skin at his waist. I swallowed hard, my mouth going abruptly dry as I imagined putting my mouth there. Tracing the cut of his hip with my tongue, nuzzling into the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Jesus, get a grip, Asher.The man was just stretching, not putting on a private peep show for my benefit. I really needed to get laid if a glimpse of skin was enough to send me spiraling into X-rated fantasies.

Or maybe I just needed to stop mooning over my straight bodyguard, pining for something I couldn't have. Something I had no business even wanting, given the radioactive mess my life had become.

Jared deserved better than to be sucked into my orbit, spat out mangled on the other side. He'd already seen too much, gotten too close to the swirling vortex of self-loathing I carried in my chest.

Sure, he'd been kind about it so far, endlessly patient and understanding in the face of my meltdowns. But everyone had a limit.

And with my track record? It was only a matter of time before I found his. Before I pushed too hard or asked for too much, and watched him recoil in disgust, in weary resignation, just like everyone else.

The thought made something vicious and aching twist behind my ribs. Hating myself for the weakness, for the needy, grasping part of me that wanted to burrow in Jared's armsand take up permanent residence. That craved his touch, his attention, his unwavering focus like a drug.

God, I needed to cut it out. Needed to find some way to shove this inconvenient crush back into its box where it couldn't fuck up the one good thing I had going. The one person who'd seen the worst of me and hadn't gone running for the hills.

Yet, whispered a traitorous voice in the back of my head:He hasn't gone running yet.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I pushed to my feet with a dramatic groan. "Dibs on first shower," I announced, snagging my toiletry bag from my suitcase. "Try not to pine for me too hard while I'm gone."

Jared, in the midst of unlacing his boots, flipped me off without looking up. "Take your time, princess. Just try not to use up all the hot water jerking it to your own reflection."

I squawked indignantly, heat flooding my cheeks even as a reluctant laugh bubbled up my throat. "Fuck you, I do not-"

"Uh huh, sure. I've seen your hair routine, Rapunzel. No shame in the vanity game." He shot me a wink, eyes glinting with mischief. "I'll just be out here, counting the seconds until your glorious return."

"Asshole," I muttered, with no real heat. Before he could retort, I whisked myself into the bathroom and shut the door with a decisive click.

Minutes later, I slung a towel around my waist and reached for the doorknob, bracing myself for another around of talking in circles, saying everything but what I really wanted to,needed to.

Another night of lying awake until the small hours, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself I wasn'timagining the weight of his gaze on my skin. The phantom heat of his body inches from mine, radiating temptation like a furnace.

I was so lost in my own bleak thoughts, that I completely forgot Jared's earlier claim on the second shower.

So when I stepped out of the bathroom, still damp and flushed, I found myself face to face with Jared, in all his naked, dripping wet glory.

There was really no preparing for that. No bracing yourself for the sheer, overwhelming reality of all that toned skin, the acres of it on display without a stitch of clothing to obstruct the view.

I'd seen Jared shirtless before, of course. Hard not to, given the hours he spent in the gym and the casual way he treated his body, stripping down unselfconsciously in locker rooms and backstage areas alike.

But this was something else entirely. This was Jared fresh from the shower, steam still curling around him. Jared with water tracing the stark ridges of his abdomen, pooling in the divots of his hipbones. Jared displaying the thick, powerful muscles of his thighs.

My mouth went dry as I drank him in, my eyes tracking greedily over every inch of exposed skin. The broad, perfect expanse of his chest, dusted with crisp dark hair. The roped, corded muscle of his arms, his shoulders. The tantalizing trail of hair leading from his navel to his cock.

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