Page 11 of The Rockstar

I’m puttingon my sneakers when Ryder stands in front of me and casually declares, “So, I’ll drive you to the festival.”

I don’t even have to think twice. He already asked me, and I said no. “You will not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles flexing with the simple movement. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not necessary,” I say, pulling on the other shoe. “We just need to drive far enough to get a signal and call for a tow truck.”

“Which will take hours,” he points out, standing now, already pulling on a hoodie. “And there’s no guarantee one’ll come out here today, and even then, if I’m right, it needs a part you have to order. Why not just say yes? We can be on our way in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Because” —I stand too, frowning at him— “you’re you.You’re hiding out here to escape the madness. I’m not going to rip that away by dragging you to a festival where every person and their mother will recognize you and want selfies and autographs and ask you to sign their boobs and God knows what else.”

He smiles that easy smile I’ve come to love. “Oh wow. Would you look at that? Vivian’s opinion of me has changed. You were willing to stab me with that blunt knife of yours yesterday, but now you’re ready to protect me. I believe that’s what they call a redemption arc.”

I grab the nearest throw pillow and hurl it at his chest. “Take it back.”

He catches it easily and laughs. “Nope. Already noted. We’re making real progress. What if my actual goal was to convert you from a non-fan to an obsessed one?”

“I didn’t say I like you,” I grumble.

“But you didn’t say you don’t.” He grins, moving closer, stealing my breath with how casually affectionate he is. His fingers brush my arm, and he kisses my shoulder. “Anyway, it’s fine. I’ll stay in the car. It’s tinted. No one will see me.”

“You’re really planning this out, huh?”

“We need to bring those records,” he says, straight-faced, like it’s a mission of national importance. “And you need someone to drive. Come on, let me help. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

The words hit somewhere low and deep. I rub my arms, trying to ignore how warm I feel from that one soft touch and that light kiss. “I don’t want you getting swarmed.”

“I won’t be,” he says. “I’ll stay in the car. Like a good boy.” His lips twitch. “Won’t even bark unless you tell me to.”

I groan. “You’re the worst.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, voice dropping slightly as his hand brushes mine.

My breath stutters. He keeps teasing me, sure, but now there’s heat curling under it, slow and steady. “You’re lucky I need those records.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

His thumb grazes over my knuckles, and it’s such a small gesture, but my whole body notices.

He’s still touching my hand.

Still close enough that I can count the flecks of darker blue in his irises. Still looking at me like he’s remembering every second of last night.

My breath comes a little shorter, the space between us practically buzzing and crackling with sparks.

I jab a finger at his chest, which is really hard and packed with muscle. “I’m not even sure you’re a good driver, so I’m telling you now, and consider this an ultimatum: I need to get there in one piece, or you’ll lose a fan. My sister will kill you, and no, you can’t placate her with a smile.”

Ryder grins, and in the next moment, he pulls me in for a kiss.

His hands cup my jaw, thumbs grazing my cheek before he wraps a hand around the back of my head to pull me even closer to him.

His lips part mine, tongue sweeping deep, and I moan into his mouth. The world tilts and narrows, and all I can think is more,closer, deeper.

My body leans into him, molded against the length of him, his hard length pressing against my stomach. He’s solid heat, his scent in my lungs, his mouth working mine like he’s trying to ruin me for anyone else.

And it’s working.

I gasp when his teeth tug gently at my bottom lip. Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

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