Rock With Me(61)

“Why?”

“Makes sense.” He shrugs. “My house is there. We’ll stay there, and I’ve scheduled meetings that I needed to have anyway for while we’re there.”

“When, exactly, were you going to share these plans with me?”

I don’t know why I’m so pissed, but I am. We’ve been together for a few weeks. It’s not his place to make arrangements around me, for me, without talking to me. I’m not his possession.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Look.” I begin but he throws the iPad down on the bed, pulls his long, lean body off the bed and cups my face in his hands.

“I don’t want to be away from you for a few days. I’m not ready for that. I want to have you in my bed. I want to see you in my house. I want to show you my beach. It’s only for a few days, and I didn’t say anything before because I know how f*cking stubborn you are and I knew you’d say no.”

“It’s only over night.” I frown at him, part of me completely giddy that he wants to be with me, but wary that neither of us can stand the thought of being apart for just a few hours.

He closes his eyes for a brief second, shakes his head and clenches his jaw as he looks at me again. I’ve hurt his feelings.

“But I’d like to see your house.” I amend thoughtfully. “You live on the beach?”

His body relaxes and his face calms. “I do.”

“Have you ever had sex on the beach?” I ask him. He smirks and his thumbs rub my cheeks softly.

“No.”

“I have.” I shrug and smirk when he narrows his eyes on me. “We’ll need a blanket ‘cause I do not need sand in my bits and pieces.”

“So, you’re assuming we’ll have sex on my beach?”

“I’m pretty sure.” I kiss him quickly and pull out of his embrace, getting back to packing. “Shit, I need more stuff.”

As he laughs, I stomp out of the room to my closet room to choose more clothes for our trip to sunny California. When I return, he’s sitting on the bed again, examining his iPad.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Reading email, setting up appointments.”

“No one is working at this time of night,” I remind him.

“No, but when they get my messages tomorrow, they’ll make it happen.”

“So, you say jump and all of your little followers say ‘how high’?” I ask with a raised brow, fold some khaki capris and lay them in my suitcase.

“Pretty much.” He shrugs.

“Must be rough,” I mutter sarcastically.

“I pay their salaries,” he reminds me. “They can make time to meet with me.”

He has a point. I nod and finish packing my bag as a thought occurs to me. “Holy shit, you’re going to ride in coach with me on the plane tomorrow?”

He snickers and then breaks out into a full on belly laugh. “No, sweetheart. We’ll take Arista’s jet.”

“What?” I sputter.

“Well, one of their jets.” He frowns deeply. “If I get on that plane with you, we’ll have a mess on our hands.”

I nod slowly. “Fans.”

“Yeah.”

I take a deep breath and meet his eyes with my own. “I hate that part.” He scowls, and I feel the need to clarify. “I’m so proud of you, babe.” I climb on the bed and straddle his hips and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love your music, and I am proud that you do what you love.”

“But.” He prompts me, his large hands gliding up and down my back.

“But.” I frown, trying to gather my thoughts. “The fame part makes me nervous.”

“Hell, it makes me nervous.”

“Been there, done that,” I remind him. “Have the baggage to prove it.”

“Look, Sam, I don’t expect you to be a part of the celebrity side of my life. That’s just work. If I worked in an office, I wouldn’t take you there with me. If you want things to be on the down-low, fine, but I won’t lie. You’re mine.” He kisses me and pulls his fingers down my cheek. “But we don’t have to take out a spread in a magazine either.”

“Okay,” I agree.

“The reality is, we’ll be photographed at some point. The press will catch on. After a while, it’ll be old news.”