Page 30 of Rockstar Baby
It was only as I climbed the stairs that hope surged inside me. My step quickened. If Ivy had still been in the room when housekeeping arrived, might she still be there?
I stopped outside my door and knocked, just to be polite. “Ivy? It’s me.”
No reply.
I opened the door to the suite and let out a long breath at the destruction around me. Nothing too horrifying, but there was little doubt a female was still in residence.
Thank God.
A noise came from the bathroom and I cocked my head. She was singing. I couldn’t help a grin. Her voice was pleasing, as appealing as the rest of her. Even if she wasn’t exactly nailing the lyrics of the song she’d decided to attempt.
I moved to the doorway and came to a halt. She was in the tub, surrounded by fragrant bubbles. Her hair was up but some spilled free to her shoulders. Barely contained fire. Her eyes were closed and her breasts bobbed and swayed as she danced in place, her tight pink nipples popping through the froth to torment me.
My throat went dry, my pulse sped up, and my jeans suddenly got a size smaller.
Christ, she was going to kill me.
Did the morning-after—okay, afternoon-after—count as an extension of a one-nighter?
Guess we were about to find out.
Seven
Bubbles frothed around my neck.Perhaps a bath bombandbubbles wasn’t the way to go. Then again, I’d never been in such a luxurious tub. Not quite thePretty Womansize, but I was going with it.
If I was going to be treated to a swanky room for my one-night stand, I damn well better use it.
My first reaction had been to ball up his note and pitch it on my way out the door with a flounce. But I was alone, so the flounce was just stupid.
No sense in wasting me time. Living with my brother didn’t allow for much of it. And I really didn’t need to do the walk of shame just yet. So, tub, my bitchy playlist, and my AirPods it was.
Fuck Rory Ferguson for being such a good lay.
I didn’t want to keep thinking about him. Charlie Puth in my ears certainly didn’t help. Fitting song though. I smoothed the bubbles along my arms and sang about attention and the gossipy nature of a relationship.
Not exactly us. Gossip would require caring about what we did.
And I didn’t.
Time to stop feeling sorry for myself.
I slowly sat up, the bubbles and water flowing over my shoulders. My nipples tightened at the change of temperature.
“You are a sight.”
My eyes popped open. Rory stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, pulling at the sporty collared sweater he was wearing. My gaze raked down over his lean waist to the strong thighs making his jeans way too appealing.
Especially with the obvious bulge showing there as well.
I ducked back under the suds. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to hear you butcher Charlie’s song.”
I pulled out my AirPods. “Rude.” He shrugged. Was that a smirk? Ugh, such a shit. “I wasn’t singing for you.”
“Pity. I was still enjoying it.”
“What are you doing here?” All the bubbles I’d been so worried about were suddenly disappearing at a rapid rate. I tried to pull them toward me, but they were dissolving as quickly as I tried to gather them.
