Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle, #4)(12)

“That’s it, baby, come for me.” He pushes harder with his hips, presses harder with his thumb, and I come undone at the seams, crying out his name.

He sits up again and grips my hips firmly, impaling himself all the way, and follows me into his own orgasm, growling as he spills himself inside me.

“Damn, baby,” he whispers and pushes my hair behind my ears. “You are incredible.” He kisses my breasts, my collarbones, and then my chin.

“You’re no amateur yourself,” I murmur and chuckle when he bites my neck playfully.

“Let me stay,” he whispers, his eyes happy and on mine. I can’t resist him.

I nod happily and twine my arms around his neck. “Stay.”





Chapter Four


I wake to my bedroom falling dark with shadows and a cold bed. We fell asleep after a particularly vigorous round of crazy sex, but I didn’t plan to sleep so long. I sit up and glance around the room, spying Leo’s shirt still on the bathroom floor and suddenly realize I smell bacon.

Bacon in the evening?

I climb out of the bed, throw on a black silk robe and follow my nose. My feet come to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the kitchen, and I’m mesmerized.

Leo Nash, rocker superstar, is in my kitchen cooking.

Half naked.

He pulled jeans on -where did he get those?- but they’re loose as though he didn’t button them, and he’s clearly not wearing his underwear. He has the most amazing dimples above his ass.

His shoulders are wide, but lean, like the rest of him. He’s muscular, although not like the Montgomerys. He has a runner’s body.

His hair is a mess from my fingers, and I want to bury them back in there and hold on to him.

He glances back at me with a half-smile and my stomach clenches.

Shit, I’m in so much trouble.

“Hey, sleepy-head.”

“Hey.” I walk to him, wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his back, between his shoulder blades. He’s so tall next to me. Or I’m short. “You cook too?”

“A bit. You had breakfast stuff, so I dug in. I hope that’s okay.”

“Mmm, I’m starving.”

Don’t get used to this, Sam.

“Meow.”

“Hey, little one,” I grin and scoop my fluffy white cat into my arms, nuzzling his face.

“You have a cat.” He glances at me, one eyebrow raised, as he scrambles the eggs.

“I do. Leo, meet Levine.”

“Hello there.” He pauses and smirks. “Levine as in Avril or Adam?”

“He’s a boy, Leo.”

“How did you come up with that name?” He asks with a laugh, scooping the eggs onto our plates.

“I guess I just have a thing for tattooed rock stars.” I grin and shrug.

“What was wrong with Nash?” He asks with a mock scowl.

“Oh, nothing. They’re okay, I guess.”

“I will hurt you later,” he laughs and then shakes his head.

“What?” I ask and set the cat on his feet.

“Never pegged you for a cat owner.”

“It’s one cat. I’m not the crazy cat lady or anything.” I hop up onto the counter next to the stove and watch his tattooed hands as he deftly makes our meal and the cat threads his way through Leo’s legs, purring.

“Well, the jury’s still out about the crazy part,” he winks at me and I slap his arm.

“Don’t be a douche bag. I was thinking about having sex with you again.”

Leo laughs and plates our food, handing me mine. “Wanna sit at the table?” I ask.

“I’m fine.” He leans against the island opposite me, crosses his jean-clad legs and digs into his food. He’s watching me as I eat, but we don’t say anything; just watch the other with a smug smile on our lips.

“What are you thinking?” he finally asks.

“How’d you get that scar?” I ask and point to his abdomen with my fork. He has stars tattooed on his hips, right over those incredibly sexy V lines, and he has a surgical scar just above the one on the right.

“Appendectomy,” he shrugs. “Not a very exciting story.”

“I bet it hurt.”

“It almost killed me.”

“What?” My eyes find his and I stop eating. “What do you mean?”


“I was a teenager, in a foster home. I told the lady I lived with my stomach hurt, but she told me to just go lie down.” He shrugs again and takes a big bite of bacon. “When I started throwing up and ran a temp of about one-oh-four, she took me to the ER. I had to have emergency surgery.”

He’s concentrating on his plate, not looking me in the eye, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, but I can see that it is a big deal.

Of course it is.

I set my mostly-consumed plate into the sink and hop off the counter top, take his plate from him and set it on the island behind him and wrap my arms around his middle, rest my cheek on his chest, and hold him.

Aside from Olivia, I’ve never felt the need to cuddle anyone in my life.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me close, plants his lips on the top of my head, and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and kiss his chest. I lean back just a bit so I can see his tats up close while I’m not in the throws of passion.