Rock With Me(76)

“First flame,” Lori adds. “I don’t think that Leo’s ever been photographed with a woman.”

“Never?” I frown in disbelief. “That’s hard to believe. I’m sure he’s had girlfriends.”

“I don’t know.” Cher shrugs. “But if he did, he never took them out. He’s a really private guy.”

“We’re lucky.” Lori nods. “Our guys are all about the music and the fans. The rest of it is all frills, and they don’t really play into it too much. They play the publicity game when they have to, but…” She shrugs.

“I like that,” I mutter thoughtfully.

“I thought you might.” Lori grins. “Leo’s the best. He’ll have your back.”

We join the guys back on the patio, already eating and talking about music and bands and who has what single coming out when.

I sit quietly, nibbling on salad and steak soaking it all in. These guys are just so… normal. And kind.

“What are you thinking?” Leo whispers into my ear and offers me a bite of his steak.

“I like them,” I whisper back and he smiles widely.

“I’m glad.” He kisses my forehead and goes back to eating his dinner and chatting with his band, and it occurs to me, I just made friends who don’t give a shit who my brother is or what family I come from.

Imagine that.

***

“So tired,” I yawn and lean back in the seat of Leo’s car as we drive back to the ugly Malibu house from Lori and Gary’s late that night. We stayed much later than I expected we would, chatting and laughing. The guys also got a little work done, talking song selection for the next album.

“I think you’ve won over the band.” He links his fingers and mine and I trace the ink on his hand.

“It was the sex remark.” I smirk.

“They’ll never forget that,” he agrees and glares at me. “You’ll be punished for that.”

“You already punished me, babe. Hence, the clothes that don’t belong to me.” I point to Lori’s purple tee and smirk.

“Are you wearing her underwear too?” he asks.

“I’m not wearing any underwear at all,” I respond and yawn again.

Leo pulls into his driveway and parks in the garage, and before I can open my door, he’s pulling me to my feet and lifting me in his arms.

“I can walk,” I murmur and link my arms around his neck, bury my face next to his skin and breathe him in. “But this is nice.”

“You’re tired.”

“I don’t know why,” I murmur and enjoy the way he effortlessly carries me through his horrible house to the staircase. “Uh, I might need to walk up this weird staircase.”

“You’re fine.” He kisses my forehead and carries me to the bedroom. “Do you need to use the restroom?”

I nod and he takes me into the master bath, sets me gently on my feet and leaves me alone to do my thing. When I return to the bedroom, he’s turned the bed down and is standing on the balcony, stripped down to just his short, black boxer-briefs.

I stand and watch him, his back to me, leaning on the railing and staring into the blackness, most likely listening to the ocean. Even his back is gorgeous, smooth and bare of tattoos, except the very tops of his shoulders where his sleeves end.

I wonder why he never got any ink on his back?

As if he can sense me, he turns and grins and comes in through the glass door.

“You okay?” I ask and tilt my head to the side. There’s something in his eyes that looks sad.

He nods and crosses to me, lifts me back into his arms and kisses me softly.

“The bed is only a few feet away,” I remind him.

“I like having you in my arms.”

I brush his hair back with my fingers as he moves us to the bed and lays next to me, pulling me to him.

“You’re not trying to seduce me.” It’s not a question.

“I want to hold you.”

“I was just kidding when I said you were bad in bed,” I remind him and pull myself up onto my elbows. He smirks and pushes my hair back behind my ear and then laughs, a full, belly laugh.

“I can’t believe you said that.”

I grin and shrug. “It was funny.”

“You’re funny.” He kisses me and tucks me to his side, my head on his chest. “You should sleep.”