Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) by Crystal Kaswell Page B
Authors: Crystal Kaswell
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again. I can ask for that. "Let's go somewhere quiet."
"You sound tired."
I nod.
"Let's order something at your place."
"Are we going to..."
He slides his arm around my waist and nods to the exit. "We're going to talk."
***
I t's a quick drive in Pete's quiet as a mouse black Tesla. The luxury electric car is another thing I could get used to. It has cushy leather seats, freeze your ass off powerful air conditioning, and all sorts of fancy digital controls.
Actually, his car is too nice for this shitty neighborhood.
I turn to him as I unbuckle my seatbelt. "You sure it's okay to park here?"
He cocks a brow. "If you want to go to my place, ask."
"No, I just... this isn't a good neighborhood and this is an expensive car."
His deep brown eyes bore into mine. "You're worried."
I nod.
"You worry a lot?"
I nod a yes.
He shifts out of his seat then out of the car. I follow his lead, squeezing my purse against my shoulder reflexively.
Pete moves close enough to whisper. "You don't have to worry about me. I know how to handle shit. Don't come from money."
"Oh."
The look in his eyes tells me he doesn't want to discuss this. Anyone else, I'd back off right away. I don't push people's defenses.
But I want to know more about him. I want to tear down the walls around his heart.
I drop my voice to a whisper. "Where do you come from?"
His posture stiffens. "Lived in a shitty neighborhood when I was a kid. Inland empire. Riverside. It's nicer now. Back then it was meth central. We had drug dealers next door. I know how to defend myself."
"Oh. I'm from suburban Long Island. We don't have much crime. We don't have much besides chain restaurants and Westfield Mall."
"There a non suburban Long Island?" he teases.
"Haven't you read The Great Gatsby ? We have The Hamptons. Technically, Queens and Brooklyn are in Long Island."
His lips curl into a smile. "Guy who didn't go to college can't have read a classic piece of American Literature?"
"No, I just mean—" My cheeks flush. "Have you read it?"
He nods. "It's no Hunger Games."
I laugh and lead him up the stairs, through the door, into my tiny studio apartment.
There's about two feet between the kitchenette and my twin bed and another two between my bed and the desk.
He shuts and locks the door. "You like Thai food?"
"Never had it. I'll eat anything but I'm allergic to peanuts."
He nods. "I know a place that's good with modifications if you want to try it."
"Okay..."
He moves close enough to run his fingertips over my shoulders. He pulls out his cell then stares into my eyes. "Trust me. I've got this."
I trust him a lot more than I should, what with us meeting twenty-four hours ago. I nod a yes.
"What do you like?" he asks.
"Vegetables."
He laughs. "Really?"
"Yeah. They're good. Red peppers are my favorite."
His cheeks crinkle as his deep, throaty laugh fills the room.
"What the hell is funny about red peppers?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just never met someone who loved vegetables."
"Let me guess. You have a manly love of red meat?" I tease.
"Wouldn't turn it down." He smiles. "Prefer shellfish."
"Expensive tastes."
He nods and motions one minute. Then he's on the phone, ordering delivery. It's nearly midnight but it's not a problem. We'll have our food in half an hour.
Thirty minutes with Pete. And there's my bed. It's a perfect situation, really.
But I can't sleep with him until I've made up my mind about this.
I'm not ready to decide. I reach for anything else I can discuss. "Do you really have expensive tastes?"
"Don't think about it like that." He motions for me to sit on the bed.
His posture is more I'm going to take care of you than I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming .
I sit anyway.
He moves to the kitchenette and opens the cabinets. "What do you have to drink?"
"You're supposed to ask permission to use someone's kitchen."
"Am I?"
I nod.
"You really want me to ask?"
"No. Just. You're kind of pushy."
"I know." He turns back to me.
"You sound tired."
I nod.
"Let's order something at your place."
"Are we going to..."
He slides his arm around my waist and nods to the exit. "We're going to talk."
***
I t's a quick drive in Pete's quiet as a mouse black Tesla. The luxury electric car is another thing I could get used to. It has cushy leather seats, freeze your ass off powerful air conditioning, and all sorts of fancy digital controls.
Actually, his car is too nice for this shitty neighborhood.
I turn to him as I unbuckle my seatbelt. "You sure it's okay to park here?"
He cocks a brow. "If you want to go to my place, ask."
"No, I just... this isn't a good neighborhood and this is an expensive car."
His deep brown eyes bore into mine. "You're worried."
I nod.
"You worry a lot?"
I nod a yes.
He shifts out of his seat then out of the car. I follow his lead, squeezing my purse against my shoulder reflexively.
Pete moves close enough to whisper. "You don't have to worry about me. I know how to handle shit. Don't come from money."
"Oh."
The look in his eyes tells me he doesn't want to discuss this. Anyone else, I'd back off right away. I don't push people's defenses.
But I want to know more about him. I want to tear down the walls around his heart.
I drop my voice to a whisper. "Where do you come from?"
His posture stiffens. "Lived in a shitty neighborhood when I was a kid. Inland empire. Riverside. It's nicer now. Back then it was meth central. We had drug dealers next door. I know how to defend myself."
"Oh. I'm from suburban Long Island. We don't have much crime. We don't have much besides chain restaurants and Westfield Mall."
"There a non suburban Long Island?" he teases.
"Haven't you read The Great Gatsby ? We have The Hamptons. Technically, Queens and Brooklyn are in Long Island."
His lips curl into a smile. "Guy who didn't go to college can't have read a classic piece of American Literature?"
"No, I just mean—" My cheeks flush. "Have you read it?"
He nods. "It's no Hunger Games."
I laugh and lead him up the stairs, through the door, into my tiny studio apartment.
There's about two feet between the kitchenette and my twin bed and another two between my bed and the desk.
He shuts and locks the door. "You like Thai food?"
"Never had it. I'll eat anything but I'm allergic to peanuts."
He nods. "I know a place that's good with modifications if you want to try it."
"Okay..."
He moves close enough to run his fingertips over my shoulders. He pulls out his cell then stares into my eyes. "Trust me. I've got this."
I trust him a lot more than I should, what with us meeting twenty-four hours ago. I nod a yes.
"What do you like?" he asks.
"Vegetables."
He laughs. "Really?"
"Yeah. They're good. Red peppers are my favorite."
His cheeks crinkle as his deep, throaty laugh fills the room.
"What the hell is funny about red peppers?" I ask.
"Nothing. Just never met someone who loved vegetables."
"Let me guess. You have a manly love of red meat?" I tease.
"Wouldn't turn it down." He smiles. "Prefer shellfish."
"Expensive tastes."
He nods and motions one minute. Then he's on the phone, ordering delivery. It's nearly midnight but it's not a problem. We'll have our food in half an hour.
Thirty minutes with Pete. And there's my bed. It's a perfect situation, really.
But I can't sleep with him until I've made up my mind about this.
I'm not ready to decide. I reach for anything else I can discuss. "Do you really have expensive tastes?"
"Don't think about it like that." He motions for me to sit on the bed.
His posture is more I'm going to take care of you than I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming .
I sit anyway.
He moves to the kitchenette and opens the cabinets. "What do you have to drink?"
"You're supposed to ask permission to use someone's kitchen."
"Am I?"
I nod.
"You really want me to ask?"
"No. Just. You're kind of pushy."
"I know." He turns back to me.
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