Rock with You (Risking It All) (4 page)

S
am cursed a blue streak as he pawed through the contents of his bedside table. He was almost positive he’d brought condoms with him to the mountains—not that he’d been planning to get laid, but just in case. But they weren’t here.

Wait.
His suitcase.

He hurried into the closet, wishing like hell he’d remembered to bring a flashlight upstairs with him, but he’d been thinking with his dick, and his dick was screaming at him to hurry. Now he was freezing his ass off up here in the dark, feeling his way around the closet for the suitcase. Finally, his hands encountered its smooth, leather surface. He went straight for the inside pouch, where his fingers closed over a small cardboard box.
Halla-fuckin-lujah.

He closed his fist around it and ran for the stairs.

Carly still lay on the rug in front of the fire, looking like a goddess with her blond hair spread out behind her, all of her lush curves on display. The firelight rippled over her, making her skin seem to dance.

There was a song in it, but he couldn’t write it down now. Right now, all he could think about was losing himself inside her.

“Thank God,” Carly said when she saw the box in his hand.

He dropped to his knees beside her, sheathed himself in a condom, and took her in his arms. “I just met you, but it feels like I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. “I feel it, too.”

He laid her back on the rug and positioned himself against her. She hooked one knee around his hips, taking him in. A hoarse groan tore from his throat. Holy shit, she felt amazing. And he was already struggling for control because
everything
about Carly was amazing. The infectious sound of her laughter. The way she got all shy, then totally blew his mind in the next second. Those big doe eyes, currently locked on his and blazing with emotion.

Her body surrounded his, gripping him, urging him toward his release. He thrust steadily inside her, clinging to his control by a thread as sweat beaded on his back and need blazed like an inferno inside him. They moved together, touching, kissing, panting.

“So fucking good,” he rasped, losing himself ever deeper inside her welcoming body.

 Carly cried out beneath him, and he let himself go. He thrust harder as she came, pounding into her as his own orgasm built, filling him with an almost painful pressure, then pulsing through him in scorching waves of release.

He collapsed on the floor beside her, their bodies still joined, gasping for breath.

“Wow,” she whispered. “That was…”

“Yeah. It was.” He didn’t want to put words to what he was feeling. Not yet.

When he’d collected his wits, he went down the hall to the bathroom. In the living room, Carly had slipped into his T-shirt. She sat with her knees hugged against her chest, staring into the fire.

He pulled on his boxers and sat beside her. “Okay?”

She turned, a warm smile curving her lips. “So much better than okay.”

“Yeah, me, too.” They sat together for a few minutes in front of the fire.

“Hell of a way to spend the ice storm,” she said.

“Sure is.”

“Why are you really here?” she asked. “In Haven?”

“Short answer or the long one?”

“We’ve got all night. You might as well tell me the long one.”

He had no business telling her either version, but for some reason, he just…needed to. He needed her to know. “My manager rented this place for me, told me to lay low for a while, stay off the radar, come back when I’d written my next big hit.”

She turned her head and met his eyes. “Why lay low?”

“You can probably figure it out.” He looked away. Carly seemed to be a fan after all, although he was pretending for tonight that she wasn’t because he had a rule not ever to sleep with a fan.

“That thing with your housekeeper.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that thing.”

“So tell me what happened,” she said.

“You know what happened.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “And
Celebrity Juice
never gets its facts wrong?”

He inhaled sharply. She was asking him for his side of the story. His own manager hadn’t done that, had told Sam it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the public perception, and right now the general public thought he was a heartless asshole. “I never slept with Manuela. Her baby isn’t mine. I took a damn paternity test just to get her and the press off my back.”

“Okay,” she said. “Did you have her deported?”

His fists clenched. “Hell, no. She put herself in the spotlight trying to extort money from me. One of those gossip blogs started poking around and found a problem with her visa so they published it, trying to make me look bad for hiring her illegally. Then the INS got involved. I tried to stop it from happening, but it was out of my hands.”

“Well, it sounds like she brought it on herself then,” Carly said quietly.

“It was a shitty situation.”

She looked up at him. “So have you written your next big hit?”

“No.” He’d been starting to wonder if he was done, if it was time to sell out and let one of those hit makers write his next album for him. “Been hiding out in this house for a month and wrote nothing but mediocre crap until I walked into your shop this morning.”

She blinked, sitting up straighter. “Will you play something for me?”

Fuck yeah, he would. He stood and walked to the corner where he’d left his guitar. “What’s your favorite?”

She smiled, looking so goddamn gorgeous sitting there wearing nothing but his T-shirt. “‘Hit Hard.’ Random, right?”

Hell. She’d named an obscure song off his first album, and while he couldn’t pick a favorite, that one sure held a special spot in his heart. “It’s one of mine, too.”

He lifted the guitar into his lap and began to play.

Carly felt like her heart was about to beat its way right out of her chest. Sam’s low, throaty voice filled the living room, making the hair on her arms stand on end. He strummed the guitar as he sang, and it was just magic. Everything about tonight was magic.

“Wow,” she whispered when he’d finished.

He set the guitar down, and she slid into his lap. “Um”—she giggled as his cock pressed against her—“does this always happen when you play?”

He smiled, his eyes heated. “Only when I play for you.”

That was probably a line, but she didn’t care. Tonight was all about living for the moment and creating the kind of once-in-a-lifetime night she’d remember forever. “Then you should play for me more often.”

“There are a lot of things I’d like to do with you more often.” He pulled her flush against him, reminding her that she wasn’t wearing panties, and now she was aroused as he was.

They made love in front of the fire, then devoured most of the box of chocolate chip cookies. Afterward, since it was unbearably cold everywhere else in the house, they piled extra pillows and blankets on the living room floor, added fresh wood to the fire, and slept.

When Carly woke up the next morning, she was disoriented for a moment. Then Sam stirred behind her, and she remembered the totally crazy series of events that had led to her spending the night here with him.

“Mornin’,” he said, his voice raspy with sleep.

The fire had dwindled to coals, allowing a chill to permeate the air, but under the blankets, with Sam’s naked body entwined with hers, it was toasty warm.

“Morning.” She rolled to face him and gave him a quick kiss, mindful that she hadn’t brushed her teeth.

Sam’s hands slid down to her butt, pulling her closer. “Woke up thinking about you.”

Yeah, she could tell because he was hard, so deliciously hard. He hooked a hand behind her knee, angling her hips so that his cock pressed between them, and then he kissed her until every bone in her body had melted.

“Damn, baby,” he rasped. “You make me so hot.”

He reached behind them for a condom, rolled it on, and pushed inside. She gasped as he filled her, sending waves of pleasure through her body. He withdrew and thrust again, and it felt so good. They rocked together in the soft morning light, becoming more urgent with each thrust of his body inside hers.

For a man who made his living with his voice, Sam wasn’t a talker in bed. He showed his pleasure in the soft groans that tore from his throat, the way his eyes blazed into hers, and he clutched her against him, as if even an inch of space between them was too much.

She came with a cry, and Sam followed her over. They lay panting in each other’s arms.

“I hear songs in my head when I make love to you.” His voice was a whisper against her neck. “I thought I’d lost my muse, but I found her again. She’s you.”

Carly’s heart rolled over in her chest, and
poof
, she lost a little piece of it right there in Sam’s arms.

S
am sat by the back window, strumming chords while the melody worked itself out in his head. After they finally got up, he and Carly had quickly realized they’d be spending the day near the fireplace. The rest of the house was colder than a refrigerator. Outside, the world glistened beneath a sheen of ice. It coated everything, the house, the trees, the road.

It meant Carly wasn’t going home today. He didn’t mind. Didn’t think she did either. They were having themselves a hell of a sleepover party, and he intended to enjoy every moment. That, and write as much new music as he could while he still had his muse here for inspiration.

“Back in Black” started playing on his cell phone—the ring tone he’d set for his manager, Donny. Sam almost turned it off. He’d charged his phone this morning in case his parents had called, not to take more flak from Donny. Although…

He brought the phone to his ear. “Donny.”

“Sam!” Donny’s voice boomed over the line. “Listen, I need you back here ASAP.”

“What happened to writing my next hit?” he asked drily.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Donny said. “I just got off the phone with Tina Torrey’s manager. She wants to record a duet.”

“A duet with Tina Torrey?” Sam had met her a few times. She sang edgy rock-laced pop, real cute with jet-black hair and overdone makeup. And she was hot, as in
burning-up-the-charts
hot. His interest was definitely piqued.

“Recording as soon as next week. We want it all over the airwaves this summer. This is your splashy comeback, Sam. We’ll follow it up with a new album.”

“Send me what you’ve got. I’ll give you my final decision after I’ve heard the tune, but unofficially…I’ll do it,” Sam said. He respected Tina Torrey and her music. Collaborating with her was a good move.

“Awesome, man, will do. I’ll go ahead and charter a flight for you.”

“Better check the weather first,” Sam said. “We’ve had an ice storm here in North Carolina.”

“We?” Curiosity dripped from Donny’s voice.

“Me, and the rest of the town. Couldn’t get out if I wanted to.”

“Right, well, let me see what I can do. I’ll be in touch.” A click signaled the end of the call.

Sam powered off his phone. He wasn’t checking it again until Carly had left. Donny and his hit-making duet would have to wait.

“A duet, huh?” Carly said, coming to stand beside him at the window.

“Yeah.”

“I like it.” She smiled softly, her brown eyes twinkling with the reflection of the icicles outside.

“Could be just what I need.”

“I think so, too.” She gazed out the window. “It’s beautiful out there.”

So was she, her hair loose and wavy, dressed in his shirt and sweatpants. He picked up his guitar.

“So beautiful,” he sang. “The world melts away when I look in her eyes.”

“I could listen to you sing all day.” She slid onto his knees, the guitar between them.

“I could sing to you all day.” He leaned forward to kiss her. He’d written four songs since he met her yesterday. At this rate, he’d have enough music written to record a new album once Donny got that flight chartered. But after a month of biding his time in Haven, waiting to escape, now that he was truly trapped, he no longer wanted to leave.

He sang what he had so far on the song he was calling “Crazy Beautiful” while Carly leaned in close, watching him play. When he’d finished, there were tears in her eyes.

“That was beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

He set his guitar on the floor and tugged her closer.

She pressed a kiss against his lips. “You’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“Written your next big hit.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “I can’t wait to listen to it in my headphones while I bake.”

He chuckled. “I can just see you now. I’d love to see you bake sometime, you know.”

“I’d love to see you sing. Really sing. Up onstage.” Her sunny eyes clouded. “You’ll be flying home when the roads clear up, right? I don’t even know where you live. This is so weird.”

Yeah, it was weird. This felt like so much more than a casual hookup, and he didn’t even know her last name. “I live in Calabasas, outside Los Angeles, and yeah, I’m going home soon.” Much sooner than he’d thought. He rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t know your last name, Beautiful Carly from the Bakery.”

“Taylor. Carly Taylor.” Her brow scrunched. “Do you do this a lot? Sleep with women you barely know?”

Well, hell, they were getting into it now. “Have I? Yes. Do I make a habit of it? No.”

“I haven’t,” she whispered. “I’ve never even kissed a man the same day I met him.”

“Do you regret it?”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Not even a little bit. Soon I’ll go back to my bakery, and you’ll go home to California, but I’ll never regret a single minute of this.”

“Good.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “I need you to know that this isn’t just meaningless sex for me either, Carly. The circumstances are crazy weird, but this is something special. I mean that.”

She blinked quickly. “That better not be a line, Mr. Fancy Pants Rock Star.”

He chuckled. “You’ll have to take my word for it. No lines.”

She scooted closer in his arms. “So tell me about your life in LA. What do you do when women aren’t flinging their panties at you onstage?”

“Business shit takes up a painful amount of my day. What photo goes on the next single, what brand of water should I be seen drinking on tour.” He hesitated. “Why did my last album sell five million fewer copies than the others?”

She sucked in a breath. “Really?”

He nodded. “It was a commercial flop. That’s why my manager sent me out here to the mountains. Between that and the mess with Manuela, he needed me out of the spotlight for a few months until he came up with a splashy way to bring me out of my slump.”

“The duet,” she said.

“If it works out.”

“I hope it does.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “My bakery has been in a slump since I took over the reins from my grandmother, too. Profits are way down.”

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t a reflection of your baking skills. Maybe you need some advice on the business end of things.”

“Maybe.” She looked away. “I’ve been too embarrassed to ask for help.”

“Your grandma still around?” he asked.

“Yeah. She comes in a few mornings a week for breakfast.” A soft smile curved her lips.

“Then you know who to ask for advice.”

She pressed a hand over her eyes. “I’ve been so afraid of letting her down, but you’re right. She’ll know exactly what to do.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he wanted to come back to A Piece of Cake someday, to see her again, maybe meet her grandma. But he knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep.

The world outside looked like it had been dipped in glass. A thick coating of ice covered everything in sight, shimmering in color now as the sun began to set. Carly stood at the big window in the living room, looking out at the frozen landscape. “We should bring in some more firewood before it gets dark.”

“On it.” Sam grabbed the wood carrier and walked to the back door.

She watched as he crossed the back deck and filled the carrier with firewood. Thank goodness this place was stocked with plenty of it. They could have made do without a fire in the fireplace, but having it had made things so much more comfortable.

Her gaze fell to a stack of board games on a shelf beside the door. Grinning, she crouched beside it for a closer look. There was everything from Trivial Pursuit to Charades, and oh, this could be fun.

Sam stepped back inside with a basket full of wood. “This should last us until morning.”

“So should these,” she said, carrying an armload of games to the coffee table.

He glanced over his shoulder as he stacked wood in front of the fireplace, eyebrows raised. “You sure about this?”

Her grin widened. “Better bring your A-game, hot shot.”

“Never leave home without it.” He rummaged through the stack, coming up with a game called Battle of the Sexes: Blind Date Edition. “Sounds appropriate.”

“So it does.” She sat on the floor opposite him while he dumped out the cards.

The game proved to be pretty silly, testing their knowledge about the opposite sex with various trivia questions, but Carly hopped up for a victory dance after she correctly identified a photo of an Allen wrench, winning the game.

“Rematch,” Sam declared.

They played another round of Battle of the Sexes—which got a lot more interesting after they started drinking—before moving on to Jenga, then Sorry. By then, they’d polished off two rounds of rum and Coke, and there was a whole lot of trash talk as they maneuvered their way around the board, bumping each other’s pawns. After she crushed Sam in Sorry, he held up Twister, an evil grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now.” She jumped to her feet, swaying slightly.

“This is where I get my revenge,” he said as he spread the mat out on the floor.

She couldn’t stop giggling. “I haven’t played this game since I was a kid.” And she had an idea it might turn out very differently as adults.

It started out innocently enough. Left hand on a red circle. Right foot on blue. When she spun right foot on yellow, he purposefully reached his body over hers so that she’d have to crouch.

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked, stooped awkwardly beneath him. Then inspiration struck. She straightened her legs, bringing her butt solidly against the fly of his jeans.

“Now you’re fighting dirty,” he said.

“Am I?” She wiggled her hips against him, causing him to suck in a breath.

He reached over her to spin. Left hand on green. Soon they were completely entangled and laughing like crazy. When Carly hit the mat, Sam crowed his victory. She went into the kitchen for a glass of water while he put Twister away and pulled out a deck of cards.

They played until their eyes hurt from squinting at cards by firelight. Sometime past midnight, Sam put the games back on the shelf. Carly was tired and still a little tipsy. Her cheeks ached from laughing so much. She followed Sam into the kitchen to get her cell phone while he rummaged in the pantry for a midnight snack. She’d used his portable charger earlier so that she could check the local news and weather reports.

“Temperatures are supposed to rise tomorrow,” she said, leaning against the countertop.

He nodded. “Might thaw enough to get you out of here.”

“It should,” she said, looking at the forecast on her phone. “Might be days yet before we get power back, though. Sounds like most of the town is without.”

Sam shook his head with a smile, leading the way back to the living room with a box of cookies in his hand. “This kind of shit doesn’t happen where I’m from.”

“Where are you from?”

“Grew up in Birmingham.”

Ah, so that explained the Southern twang in his voice. “Does your family still live there?”

“Bought my parents a place in California a few years back. Still have extended family in Alabama, but I don’t get out there too much.”

“It’s nice that you have your parents nearby.” She sat in front of the fire.

“Yeah.” They stared at each other for a few beats of heavy silence.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged herself. She’d be able to go home tomorrow. Sam was flying back to LA. He’d be recording a duet with Tina Torrey. She was gorgeous and sexy and sophisticated in all kind of ways Carly wasn’t.
That
was his real life. This was hers. “So when I leave here tomorrow, it’s good-bye,” she said.

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Nothing ever would have happened between us if I hadn’t gotten stranded here. I’d have dropped off your pastries, and we never would have seen each other again.” And she had no business feeling emotional about this, but try telling that to her heart.

“Not true.” He sat and tugged her into his lap. “I thought about you all damn day after I left your shop. Why do you think I asked you to deliver all that stuff yesterday?”

She looked away because the intensity in his blue eyes was stirring up all kinds of warm, mushy things inside her. “We live in different worlds.”

“We live on opposite sides of the country, yeah. But don’t spin some bullshit about ‘different worlds,’ Carly. If you owned a bakery in California and I’d met you there, this…” He yanked her forward so that her hips met his, his erection pressing into her. “It still would have happened, and it would have lasted a hell of a lot longer than two days.”

She wanted to believe that,
really
wanted to believe it. But what difference did it make? Once the ice melted, he was flying back to California, and they’d never see each other again. “Tonight,” she whispered. “I’m yours tonight.”

“No, baby.” His voice rumbled through her, low and sexy. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”

He kissed her, hot and fierce, his mouth devouring hers with a new kind of urgency. The knowledge that this was their last night together had set them on fire.

“Crazy beautiful,” he murmured against her neck. “That’s what you are.”

Her heart somersaulted in her chest. He’d sung those lyrics to her earlier while he played the guitar. It was one of the new songs he’d written, and she absolutely loved it. Would she hear it on the radio someday? Would he be singing about her then, or would she just be a distant memory?