Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle, #4)(43)

“I didn’t f*ck trash like you when I was single. Why would I start now?” He turns his back on her and tips my chin up with his finger. “Wanna get out of here?”

“We don’t have to leave just because of that,” I assure him, my voice light. “I told you earlier, I don’t care.”

He leans in until his mouth is pressed to my ear and whispers, “I don’t give a f*ck about her either, sweetheart. I’m ready to take you home, get you naked and have you beneath me.”

My breath catches in my lungs. “Well, when you put it like that, yeah, let’s go.”

Leo waves at Lance, who nods in acknowledgement, and calls out goodbyes to the rest of the band. Security escorts us out through the back door into the refreshing cool winter air and to his Camaro.

He starts the car and pulls away from the curb.

“That was fun.” I turn in my seat so I can see him, watching the street lights flash over his face and reflect off the metal in his ear and lip.

“Yeah, it was,” he agrees. “You weren’t kidding. The groupies don’t bother you.”

“They’re gross.” I wrinkle my forehead. “Why would anyone f*ck that? Who knows where her * has been, not to mention her mouth. Ew.” I shudder and make gagging noises. “Seriously, that’s just not sanitary.”

Leo throws his head back and laughs.

“How many groupies did you f*ck in your day? And don’t tell me you can’t count that high. You’re smart.”

“So not answering that question.” He shakes his head.

“No, really.”

“Sam, there are some questions a woman should never ask. Asking a famous musician how many women he’s banged is one of them.”

“Just give me an estimate.”

“How many men have you f*cked?” He asks, frowning at me.

“I asked you first.” I grin, enjoying his discomfort.

“I f*cked the groupies back in the day. It’s been a while.” He shrugs. “Who knows how many.”

“But no kissing and no oral?” I ask, remembering what Meg said at dinner the other night.

“No, too personal.”

“Just a quick f*ck then.”

“Samantha…” And I know this is as far as he’s willing to take his side of the conversation, so I let him off the hook.

“Six,” I state.

“Six what?” He asks.

“I’ve had sex with six guys, including you.” I smile smugly at him and wait for his reaction.

“You’ve only had sex with six guys?”

“Hey, that’s a decent number. Enough to know what I like, but not so many that I’m like a fast-food drive through.”

Leo laughs again and smiles over at me. “I’ve had sex with more than six women.”

“I figured.”

“But I’m only having sex with one at the present time.”

“If it were any different, I’d have cut off your dick by now.” I nod. “Most guys had a lot of sex when they were young. You’re a musician. All you have to do is open your mouth and women take off their underwear. What man can resist that?”

“I didn’t have sex with thousands or anything, you know. I’m no Gene Simmons.”

I laugh. “I really don’t care, it’s just fun to torment you.”

His eyes narrow on me. “I think I might need to spank you.”

I sober and watch his strong hands on the steering wheel. “Sing me my song again and you can do anything you want.”

His face turns to mine in surprise, and then he smiles softly. “You really like it?”

I nod happily and reach for his hand as he begins to sing quietly.



I don’t wanna be your friend

Cause I’ve already let you in

Everytime I see your sweet blue eyes

I know I need to make you mine

My walls crumble… And crumble

So all you see is the real me



He sings the whole song, from start to finish, and I trace the ink on his hands as I listen, soaking in the words.



When I run my hand

Over your perfect skin

I know you see me

And not what I’m covered in

My walls crumble… And crumble

So all you see is the me I need you to see



My pretty red panties are wet by the time the song ends, I’m panting.

I want him. Now.

He pulls up at his townhouse and cuts the engine. “I can’t wait long enough to drive to your place.”

“Good call.”





Chapter Thirteen


We barely make it through his front door before we’re attacking each other. His alarm system beeps with a warning, reminding him to put the code in before they call for the police.

I so don’t need the police to break this up.

He’s working on my jeans, not paying attention as I slam the door behind us.

“The code, Leo.”

“Huh?” He buries his face in my neck and bites the tender flesh below my ear, sending tingles down my arms.

“What’s the code? I don’t want to stop for the cops.”