Page 27 of Not Another Rockstar
“Touring, fame—the pressure can twist even the best person,” he said. She hadn’t heard him speak about what they did this way before.
“You seem pretty normal,” she said, “except that you’re allergic to smiling, interviews and social media.” He was the only one in the band who refused to be online.
He shrugged. “I was older when I met the lads.”
“Only by five years. You’re hardly ancient.” She nudged him, and he rolled his eyes.
There was a hint of a smile, and as sexy as his brooding demeanour was, there was a kindness in his smile that made his eyes light up.
“On the road, five years is a lifetime. I’d toured with solo artists and other bands to get my start. Anita thought I’d be a level head since I’d already had my wild years.”
“You were wild?” she said with a smirk, never having even seen him drunk. There’d only been a couple of beer bottles in his tour bus, unlike the others who thought every night was a party.
“You’ve no idea.” His eyes met hers, and something giddy stirred in her. It made a nice change from the heartbreak and upset.
She wanted to know what his wild meant.Girls, booze, drugs?She’d never thought much about his past. Maybe his quietness wasn’t him being cold or rude; maybe he’d felt out of place since she had known the others since school.
“I think we’ve been gone long enough,” Axel said, offering her a hand.
She sighed, bracing herself to return to the accusing stares and sorrowful glances. He helped her up, and she stared at their joined hands. A spark she’d never felt before rippled through her, and from the way his brow creased, he felt the same. With only inches between them, her eyes drifted to his lips in the tense silence. He didn’t pull away, and she became curious to know what his red wine-stained lips tasted like.
He cleared his throat. “Stop looking at me like that, Bee,” he said softly.
He’d never called her Bee before. It felt too intimate, but she wanted to hear it again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said as he tucked a strand of lilac hair behind her ear, just like that night in the tour bus.
“Yes, you do,” he rasped. His fingertips grazed along her jaw, her neck, as though he was trying to memorise every inch.
Her breath caught as he drew near.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, snatching his hand away like she’d burnt him.
“We should go downstairs,” she said, but neither of them moved. Eye level with his chest, she stared up at him, seeking answers. He let out a deep breath, lost in thought, but when her eyes met his, his gaze darkened.
“Fuck it,” he cursed, and pinned her to the wardrobe door. He crushed his lips against hers, hungry and exploring.
She moaned as he pulled her flush against his hard body. She lost all ability to move, to think, to breathe—there was only him. Trying to steady herself, she rested her hands on his chest. The rush of his heart told her they were both nervous, this wasn’t the time or place, but the taste of his lips ruined her self-control. His touch, the comfort of being held, brought tears to her eyes, and the last thing she wanted was to cry.
“Axel? Phoebe? You up there?” Nick’s voice froze them both in place.
Phoebe covered her mouth with her hands, not sure if she was going to laugh or cry.
“We should get back,” Axel said, but his grip on her didn’t loosen. Nor did she want it to. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like nothing mattered more than her.
“Grief waits for no one.” She brushed off the gloss from his full lower lip. His eyes widened at the gesture. She blushed in disbelief—why was she so comfortable touching him?
“Why?” Axel asked, breaking the heavy silence as they reached the top of the stairs.
“Why what?” Her heart was beating so fast, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“The kiss.”
“I wanted you to, and Cillian will be turning in his grave.”
“So, it was to get back at him?” he asked.
In fact, Cillian hadn’t even crossed her mind. That scared her more than if it had just been about getting revenge.
