Page 3 of Rock Hard

Thankfully, the gate closed behind us, leaving them on the other side.

As we all poured out of the buses, the heat hit us with the blast of a hot oven. Quickly, we all went inside and were ushered down several long halls until we reached a cluster of dressing rooms that stood side by side. Each band member had their own room, with a big common room for everyone else. Everyone else meant me, Matt, and Big D and slew of other people that were milling around that I hadn’t met yet.

A large buffet was spread out along one wall and a bar was set up next to it. Matt and Big D began tearing into the buffet and helped themselves to drinks. I grabbed a bottle of water, and sat alone on a big couch. Matt sat down across from me, setting a heaping plate in his lap.

“Sorry about last night,” he said, in between bites.

“For what?” I asked.

“Liam. He’s kind of an asshole,” he said, with a shrug. I watched him shovel food into his mouth, his huge frame spread out on an adjacent couch.

“Isn’t he your boss?” I asked. I wasn’t too impressed with Matt at all. He’d hardly said a word the entire trip, and I was sure there was some important business he should be off taking care of now that we were here, instead of feeding his face.

“Technically,” he replied.

“How long have you been the tour manager?” I asked.

“Just a few weeks. The other guy left after Liam…,” he said, his words cutting off.

“Why did he leave?” I asked, looking away from him and trying to follow his gaze, landing on Liam and his sexy smirk.

“What are you doing, Matt? Don’t you have work to do?” Liam asked, walking over and towering over him.

“Well, yeah…” Matt hung his head and stood up, setting down his plate and shuffling out the door past Liam.

Liam sat next to me, his eyes flashing with mischief.

For fuck’s sake, he’s the sexiest fucking man I’ve ever seen.

Masculinity oozed off him, and I drank him in. Sure, I’d keep this professional, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the scenery.

“Don’t you have to get ready or something?” I asked. He was sitting awfully close. His hair had dried, leaving his black locks looking softer than mine. His long lashes were practically waving at me, and I pushed away a pang of jealousy. He was intense. If he had been anyone else, if he wasn’t such an arrogant bastard, and I wasn’t working, I’d have been doing my damnedest to seduce him.

Some people you meet are pure sex - every movement of his body screamed sensuality, his lips full and wide, his muscles rippling under his still open shirt. For fuck’s sake, I thought, does he ever close it? I hadn’t seen him without a bare chest since I arrived.

“All I have to do is strap on my guitar,” he replied. I shook my head in disbelief. “Sound check is in thirty minutes.”

“Sound check, right,” My voice cracked with desire. I cleared my throat, trying for professional again. “I was hoping we could spend some time together,” I said.

He moved closer, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

“Now you’re talking, luv,” his arm snaked around my shoulder, and he began pulling me closer, bringing his mouth to mine, his breath searing my lips.

“Not like that!” I said, shoving a palm against his chest, right before his lips made contact. “That’s not what I meant.” I struggled to breathe. Why did he have this fucking effect on me? It was maddening. “I meant, I want to schedule a time we can sit down and talk, please.” My fingers lingered a little too long on his chest, and I pulled my hand away reluctantly.

He nodded, that crooked smile still spread across his distractingly handsome face.

“Right, luv. There’s an insane amount of time between our sound check and when the show starts. Meet me in my dressing room after sound check and we can do whatever you want.”

“Talk,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Talk. Of course.” He winked again and my stomach flipped.

“So, I think we got off on the wrong foot, Catherine,” Liam said, as he walked into his dressing room. He hair was even messier, but somehow it looked even better. A light sheen of sweat caressed his skin, and I found myself staring at it, yearning to touch my fingertip to his slick, bare chest again. “I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly a gentleman.”

“You’re not really known for being a gentleman,” I said, wishing I could take it back as soon as the words flew from my mouth.

I was relieved when he broke out in laughter.

“Finally the truth!” he said, throwing his head back, his loud guffaw echoing in the room. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and cracked it open. “You want one?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Mercury.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that bullshit. Please call me Liam.”

“Alright. Liam.”

“That’s better. So,” he said, sitting across from me and chugging on his beer. “What do you want to know, Catherine from Rolling Stone?”

“Well, I have many questions. When I write a story, I don’t force it. I let it build from the inside out. I’d like to get to know you better, so why don’t we start at the beginning?”

“The beginning? What - you mean like my childhood, or somethin’, luv?”

“Sure, that’s as good a place to start as any.”

“For fuck’s sake, can’t we talk about something more interestin’? My music or somethin’? Isn’t that what this is about? Selling records?”

“It is. And also saving your reputation, if it’s salvageable.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.

“You can’t be all bad, Liam,” I said, smiling over at him.

“There are hundreds who would disagree with you, darling,” he replied.

“Liam, think of it this way. You’ve got a clean slate with me. I’m here to observe and listen to whatever you share with me. No judgement. No preconceived notions. If you don’t want something included in the story, just say so. I’m not out to get you, I promise.”

“Well, that’s refreshing to hear, luv,” he said, winking at me. “But you can have me if you want.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I groaned.

His laughter, the mischievous gleam in his eye, the way he looked at me with such unrestrained hunger every time he flirted with me - none of these things were helping me stay professional.

However, they were definitely having an effect on me. I just wasn’t sure that was where I wanted this whole thing to go. I also wasn’t sure I would be able to resist him.

Time would tell, but at this point, I was beginning to see that most of my time was going to be spent putting my energy into keeping my hands off of him. Or, keeping his hands off me.

; If I could do that, I’d be alright…

If…

Chapter 6

LIAM

The last thing in the whole fuckin’ world that I wanted to do was talk about my past. But she was sitting there dripping sexy, flashing those doe-like green eyes at me, her blouse plunging to a deep v, showing off a good portion of what I was sure were perfect knockers. Every time she smiled at me, my cock swelled in my pants.

And here she was asking about my childhood. I just wanted to rip off her clothes and take her right there on the fuckin’ couch. Or, better yet, blow the show and take her to a nice five star hotel and give her a proper fancy fuckin’. A woman like Catherine deserved that.

I imagined what she’d look like, splayed out in my bed, naked as a jaybird, her long black hair spread out around her head, her eyes full of desire. She was already so goddamned beautiful, but I could only imagine how much sexier she’d be with my cock buried inside her.

It had been awhile since I met a girl who played hard to get, and I liked it.

She was going on and on about how she was just here to do her job, that she wasn’t judging me, that she had no pre-conceived notions about who I was. As if I cared if she judged me at all. I was used to that shit. Nobody in the whole fuckin’ world knew me for who I really was, not even my bloody brother. He was so sure he did, though. But I’d done an excellent job of not letting anyone in. I’d done that once, a long, long time ago, and it pained me to even think about that now. I’d done my best to make good on that mistake.

“So, if we could just start with you telling me what your parents were like?” Catherine asked.

“My parents? My parents were a couple of dysfunctional assholes that had no idea how to raise children.”

She blinked, and furiously starting making notes in her little notebook. I probably shouldn’t have, but I continued.

“My father was a postmaster. My mother was a house wife who could never do anything correct, according to my father. Hell, in his eyes, none of us could do right. He was angry at the world, and he took it out on us every night when he came home. Ian got the worst of it, being younger than me. I tried to stop it, but I was just a kid, what could I do?”