Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(4)
He grimaced, running a hand through his hair. “We had enough guys that we don’t technically need another member, but the record company has someone that they want us to use. I haven’t met him, but I hear he’s good. I’m happy for the guys, but like I said, I’m not sure I’m up for it. None of it would be the same for me without Jared. Just the thought of someone else taking his spot makes me feel sick.”
I saw what he wanted from me, even if he didn’t.
He tried so hard to hide all of his pent-up frustration at life, his malcontent with the hand he’d been dealt; a talented man who was good at everything, of sound mind and exceptional body, and yet had nothing to do with it, nowhere to put it to its proper use.
He’d been raised in a world where his potential had been valued at so much less than its worth. He was ambitious. He’d never admit it, because it was a pipe dream where he came from, but his ambitions were a hot burning thing, beyond his control, and he needed this.
I buried my hands in his hair, touching my forehead back to his. It wasn’t easy, but when I spoke, I made my voice sure. “I think you should do it. Opportunities like these don’t come often, and when they do, you have to grab them. This is what Jared would have wanted.”
“It’s just not the same without him. It never will be.”
“No, it won’t. It will be completely different, but that doesn’t mean it won’t still be good. For the guys and for you. And for Jared. It was his dream for the band to make it, and he was not selfish. He’d be just as happy if you made it without him. But you’re never really without him. He’ll always be a part of you, right? And that part of you needs to do this, baby.”
He hugged me to him, his face burrowing into my neck, breathing me in, making my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Thank you. You’re my rock, sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You make everything better.”
I melted into a messy little puddle at his feet. Having this man love me like he did had become my whole world.
Though he’d put up a token protest, I knew he wanted this bad, and I couldn’t blame him. I understood his need for this. I desperately wanted to amount to something too, and so I didn’t ever even consider holding him back.
My approval, or encouragement, was seemingly all he needed, and so it was settled.
I got more details, troubling details, as we rejoined the group of giddy bandmates.
They were going to start working in the studio in just over a week. And that studio was in L.A., which was a five-hour drive away. They were required to work on the new album five days a week, and the entire process could potentially take months to complete. I wanted to throw up, but instead I smiled, and congratulated them all, and let Tristan hang his arm over my shoulders like all was right with the world.
I didn’t need another reason to hate Dean, but he always seemed more than willing to give me one.
Tristan was off talking to their new producer, leaving me alone for less than five minutes when Dean approached with a shit-eating grin on his face. I had the strong urge to literally make him eat shit.
“Out of town five days a week…How long do think it will take for Tristan to bury himself in some fan pu**y? I give it two weeks. Let’s make a wager out of it. If I’m right, I get to bury my dick in your pu**y.”
I glanced in Tristan’s direction, debating whether I should deck the creep or sic Tristan on him.
“Aww, you gonna tell your boyfriend that I was out of line with you? You can dish it out, babe, but you sure can’t take it.”
I glared at him, because I’d been real good about not dishing it out where Dean was concerned. The less interaction the better, I’d learned. “I would tell Tristan what you just said to me, but then he’d kick your ass, and I don’t think it’s right to hit girls.” I smiled sweetly as the jab hit home, and he glared at me.
In an act of supreme self-control, I walked away.
At least I’d gotten the last word.
CHAPTER TWO
TRISTAN
The party had gone into full swing with the announcement of our record deal. Music started blasting and across the brightly lit backyard, I saw Danika dancing with Frankie. No matter how many times I saw it, Danika moving her hips to the beat was the hottest f**king thing I’d ever seen.
She was wearing a little tiny blue skirt, her legs toned and shown off to perfection, her little ass so tight my mouth went dry every time she turned it my way. I was standing near the pool, talking with a group of guys about the news, but I wasn’t really. In my mind, I was lifting up that tiny skirt, bending her over, and burying myself balls deep inside her.
I owned that. She was mine. Mine. That sexy as hell creature belonged to me, and the second I thought someone else didn’t seem to understand that, I lost my f**king mind.
How I knew I was a lunatic about her was that I was even jealous of her smiles, her laughs, any damn thing that brought her joy that I hadn’t caused. I just didn’t want to share her, any part of her.
She was mine.
The way she felt about me was evident with just a look. I’d never been loved like that before, not by anyone, and it did insane things to me. I’d only had one other relationship to compare this to, and so I thought of Nat, and how she’d said she loved me five f**king times a day, incessantly, until I felt suffocated by it. Suffocated, but never actually loved. Not like I felt with just one glance from those pale silver eyes. Now if I could only become halfway worthy of that love, I’d make it through all the shit life was throwing at me.