Authors: Lexxie Couper
Heather only gave him head when she wanted something, or when she wanted to punish him for not paying enough attention to something. She would often bring him to the very edge of an orgasm and then walk away, asking him how it felt not to have something finished. She used blowjobs as a weapon, but holy fuck, when she
did
blow him until he came…
The knot in his gut twisted tighter. A lump filled his throat. He looked at the image of Pepper, at the surprised terror on her face at the paparazzi’s camera flashes.
“Noah?”
He tore his stare from Pepper to Samuel. “What answer do you want to hear, Strings?” he asked, all too aware of his flat tone. “Your friend’s answer, or your fellow band member’s answer?”
Samuel sighed. “I know I was against you and Pepper at first, mate. I know I said I didn’t want you having a relationship with her, but Jesus, Holden, every time I’ve spoken to you this last fortnight, you’ve sounded more and more like the Noah Holden I first met all those years ago. The guy who loves life. Sure, having a conversation with you is like constantly flicking the channel on a television, but I’ve heard you laugh more in the last two weeks than I have in years, and when you talk about Pepper…well, you’re just more…there. More focused.” He placed a hand on Noah’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “She’s good for you, mate. And you’re more than the drummer in some band I play for. You’re my best friend. The band can go to hell if I have to choose what’s best for it over what’s best for you. Make sense?”
Noah nodded. “It does.”
Samuel raised his eyebrows. “So? What are you going to do if—”
The sound of The Wiggles singing “Fruit Salad Yummy Yummy” cut him off. He muttered a curse, shaking his head as he dug the phone from the back pocket of his snug jeans. “Gibson,” he muttered with his trademark brooding tone.
Noah watched him, his unfinished question tumbling around his head. What would he say to Heather if she called? What would he do if she apologized? What would he tell Pepper?
“Where the fuck are you?” Samuel burst out.
Around them, various guest in the lounge cast disapproving glares. Famous or not, swearing loudly in a first-class airport lounge was not socially accepted.
“You’re what?” Samuel continued. His stare found Noah’s. Fury fought with shock on his face. “Are you kidding? Fine. Fine. It’s been a blast.”
Jerking the phone from his ear, Samuel killed the connection with a violent jab of his thumb. “You’ll be happy to know,” he said, shoving the phone back into his pocket, “that our delightful manager just quit. Says we’re nothing without Nick and doesn’t want to waste his time with us.”
Noah frowned. “He what?”
Samuel slapped Noah on the shoulder, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “We are without a manager, Drummer Boy. Let’s go get drunk.”
Chapter Six
Pepper woke early, her belly a mess of nervous butterflies, her heart thumping fast. Sleep had not claimed her until the wee hours of the morning, her mind far too busy replaying the wonderful, conflicting moment when Noah pressed her back to her bed and made her come with just his touch.
She’d replayed it over and over again. Sometime around two a.m., she’d relived it with her own hand, imagining her thrusting fingers to be Noah’s inside her sex, bringing her to climax.
When she ventured from her bedroom into the apartment for breakfast a few hours after that, a smirking Frank sat in the living, waiting for her. “Details,” he cried, eyes twinkling. “I want details. Now!”
Pepper blushed—as always. “Mind your own business, pervert.”
“Oh, Peps.” He leaped from the armchair and snared her fingers in his, his smirk spreading into a wide grin. “Did you have the best sex of your life last night? You did, didn’t you? I can tell by the shade of red you’re turning. How loud did you scream when he made you come? Are you going to marry him? You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? Oh God, you’re going to marry a rock star.” He did a furious little dance, shaking her hands the whole time. Pepper felt certain her teeth rattled in her head. “Please let me be the chief bridesmaid. Please? I look ravishing in canary yellow. Honest. I’ll out-Cher Cher I’ll out-Gaga Gaga. I’ll—”
“Frank,” she moaned, her cheeks on fire, her tummy a curious mix of nerves and joy. “I’m not going to—”
Her cell rang, the Star Wars theme emanating all the way from her bedroom.
“I’ll get it,” Frank squealed, dropping her hands and dashing for her room.
“Frank!” She laughed, dropping into the armchair.
“The delightful Ms. Kerrigan’s phone,” Frank cooed, swanning back into the living area with Pepper’s phone pressed to his ear. He paused, disappointment falling over his face. “Oh, Rupert, you’re not who I was expecting.”
Pepper laughed again. She didn’t know if she was relieved it wasn’t Noah or disappointed. The way she’d ended last night with him, she wasn’t sure when she’d hear from him again. He’d given her such an amazing sexual experience, and in return, she’d given him…nothing.
To make matters worse, her growing suspicion she didn’t really want to replace Nick Blackthorne kept scratching at her consciousness. She’d dreamt of being a singer her whole life, so why did it now seem enough that she’d sung for Noah?
Frank’s slap against her shoulder made her jump.
“Let me check,” he said into the phone before covering the end with his hand. “It’s Rupert, honey. He needs you to come into work now. The morning shift waitresses have called in sick. He’s begging you.”
Heat itched at Pepper’s nape. She was meant to sing with the band today, but Noah hadn’t told her when or where.
“Yeah, yeah,” Frank snapped into the phone. “Keep your pants on. Remember, I’ve seen what you’ve got in there. You’re not hung well enough to take them off over something…oh, who’s a touchy bar owner this morning?” He covered the end of Pepper’s cell again, pulling a face. “He sounds desperate.”
Pepper swallowed. She could text Noah and ask when he was collecting her, but she didn’t want to sound clingy. Especially after the way she’d behaved last night. Or she could go to work and hope she finished before he came to get her.
“Pep?” Frank prodded. He raised the phone to his mouth. “Hold your horses, tiny. She’s thinking. She spent the night making glorious love to a—Oww, Peps, that hurt!” He rubbed at his leg. “Pepper just slapped me, Rupert.”
“Of course I slapped you,” she whispered. “You’re telling my boss about my sex life.”
Frank grinned. “And what a sex…what, Rupert? Oh, okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s
really
begging, honey. Even offering to reimburse your subway ticket.”
Letting out a breath, Pepper straightened to her feet. “Tell him I’ll be there ASAP.”
An hour later, pocketing a very miserable tip from a regular customer, she wondered why she’d said yes. Rupert had scowled at her when she’d rushed in, muttering something about a magazine under his breath before telling her she had to service two sections of the bar. The guy at the first table she served had slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, no doubt thinking the hot pants of her uniform gave him permission to go for a grope. “Pepper needs new shorts,” he’d murmured, already half drunk at nine forty-five in the morning. “’Cause I’m gonna rip these off.”
She’d slapped his hand away, thrown Rupert a scowl and moved to the next table, only to find the woman that had been seated there had left a massive tip, a phone number scrawled on a napkin, along with a lipstick kiss and rather detailed drawing of two women in what appeared to be the sixty-nine position.
However, it wasn’t until she caught the man at table five taking a photo of her ass with his smartphone that she realized she couldn’t do this anymore. Even if she failed at singing with the band, she couldn’t deal with being a bar waitress any longer. When she finished this shift, she was telling Rupert she was quitting. Worst-case scenario, she’d get a job in a diner during the day and go to school at night. Study music management and find an unknown garage band to…
The thought faded away as her gaze fell on Noah striding into the bar. Dark sunglasses covered his ice-blue eyes. A playful grin curled the corners of his mouth. He walked straight toward her, ignoring everyone else, including Rupert, who hurried over to him with right hand extended.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he asked, his Australian accent making Pepper’s belly flip-flop.
“Working,” she answered.
He shook his head. “Nope. Someone with a voice like yours doesn’t work in a bar.”
“Noah,” she began, shifting on her feet. She wanted to throw herself at him. Kiss him senseless.
Tell him singing for him had been enough. “I’m not—”
He held up a finger. “And more to the point, you promised me you would sing with the guys today. Can’t do that while your serving tables here, can you?”
“But Rupert needed—” she tried again.
Noah swung to face the bar’s owner, currently standing beside him. “Are you Rupert?”
Rupert nodded, right hand still thrust outward. “I am, Mr. Holden. Can I just say I’m honoured to have you and the other members of Nick Blackthorne’s—”
“How much for the bar?”
Rupert blinked at Noah’s question. “A drink? Wh-what do you want?”
Noah shook his head. “No, the bar. The whole bar. I want to buy it.”
Rupert’s mouth fell open. So did Pepper’s. “B-buy it?” Rupert stammered.
Noah shrugged. “Sure. If it means I get to take Pepper away from here now.”
“I…” Rupert swung a shocked stare at Pepper. “I mean…”
“Noah.” Pepper frowned at him, even as her heart pounded fast. “You can’t do that.”
Noah cast a quick look around the bar. “Five-hundred thousand. First and final offer.”
Pepper’s heart smashed into her throat. “Noah, you can’t be—”
“Deal.” Rupert grabbed Noah’s hand and shook it vigorously.
Noah beamed. “Excellent. My lawyer will be in touch tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He took a step backward and raised his arms. “Your attention, everyone,” he shouted, his deep voice resonating around the near empty bar. “I’m Noah Holden, the new owner of Rupert’s. G’day.” He nodded at the few patrons drinking so early in the morning and then smiled at the confused barkeeper behind the marble and glass bar. “G’day. The bar is closed until further notice, but don’t worry, it’s not closed for good. Customers, your current tabs are on me. Staff, you’ll still be paid your weekly wage, plus forty percent daily to compensate for tips. But for now, everyone should go have some fun. Bloody hell, it’s autumn in New York. Who wants to be inside when it’s so beautiful out?”
He swung to face Rupert with a flourish. “Rupert, you can shut up shop for me, right? There’s an extra fifty thousand for you if you—”
“Deal.” Rupert snatched his hand and shook it again, faster this time. He flicked a look at Pepper. “Pepper, I knew you were my favourite for a reason.”
Turning away from them both, he clapped his hands with brisk proficiency. “Okay, everyone, you heard the owner. Closing time.”
He hurried away, waving his hands at the various people staring agog at him, Noah and Pepper.
Pepper, for her part, couldn’t stop staring at Noah. “Are you serious?”
His answering grin stretched wide. “Always wanted to own a bar.”
“Since when?”
He shrugged. “Since now?”
She shook her head. “You can’t do this.”
“I just did. Don’t worry. I’ve got stupid amounts of money. And hey, if my drumming career tanks, at least now I’ve got something to fall back on, right?”
Pepper continued to stare at him. She didn’t know what to say. Or do.
He chuckled. “C’mon, there’s singing to be done. I should warn you though, Strings is going to be a pain in the arse. He’s got a hangover. A big one.”
Pepper frowned, tearing her stare from him long enough to watch Rupert shoo the man that had groped her earlier out the door. “Did you really just buy a bar so I could come sing with the band?”
Noah looked about himself. An expression of immense joy filled his face. “Seems that way, doesn’t it.” He reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers with warm pressure and then tugged her to his body. “Let’s go. Before I decide the guys can wait and I kiss you. In a purely platonic way, of course. Hey, did you hear they’ve finally announced who’s playing Han Solo in the new movie?”
Pepper didn’t know whether to laugh or just be shocked into a stupefied silence. In the end, she laughed. “You’re unbelievable, Noah Holden.”
He beamed, obviously pleased with her observation. “Thank you. Now we better—ah, fuck it. Who am I kidding?”
His lips captured hers, the kiss quick and feverous and playful all at once. Pepper’s head spun. Her breath caught in her throat. And then he pulled away, happiness twinkling in his eyes, and dragged her by the hand toward the exit door.
“My bag,” she laughed.
“Don’t need it,” he answered. “I’ve got it covered.”
He swung the door open and strode straight for the stretch limo parked directly in front of the bar. Pepper blinked at the bright morning light. And then raised her eyebrows as Frank climbed out of the vehicle’s back seat.