expert.”
“Some would argue that you are an expert.”
“Because of my dad?” I sighed dramatically. I hated the labels that came with a rock star daddy. “Hardly.”
He shook his head. “Not because of your dad. Because of you. You listened as a fan. You can judge that record however you want. You can take every experience you’ve had in your life and bring it to the table every time you listen. So that makes you an expert.” He took another bite of salad, not done eating.
I stared across the table at him, enjoying just looking at his face. Studying him, getting to know every line, every expression, every sentiment expressed in his eyes. “I love that.”
“It’s true of any art form. None of us are experts, and we’re all allowed our own opinions. On anything.”
“Well this expert likes Flashing Light’s lead guitarist better than lead vocalist.”
“Surprising given your father.”
“Not really. Why would I go for vocals when that’s my dad’s role?”
“Touché. You done?” He nodded toward my salad.
“All yours.”
He pulled my plate on top of his and proceeded to scarf down the rest of my salad.
“They don’t feed you on tour?”
He shrugged. “Not homemade food.”
“I could’ve made you a nicer meal than salad.”
He shoveled in the last bite. “This is perfect, Jimi. As are you.”
I lowered my eyes to the table. “Shut up.”
“You don’t know how to take a compliment.”
“No arguments here.” I picked up our empty plates and brought them to my kitchen sink. “I’ve spent my entire life assuming people only want to talk to me because of my dad.” I rinsed the two plates, and I felt Parker move in behind me again. That was becoming his signature move.
His voice was low and close to my ear when he spoke. “But you assume I want something else?”
“I heard you defending me in the alley to Vinnie when you couldn’t have had any idea I was listening.”
I set the two plates and forks in the dishwasher, trying to move out of his orbit even though I was finding it more and more difficult to. I cleaned up the counters and put the salad fixings away. He leaned against the counter and watched me.
“I already told you about the first time I saw you. I couldn’t let him talk shit when I’d already put you up on a pedestal.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stalked toward me and pressed my body back into the countertop. “I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being honest.”
He leaned down and nuzzled my neck in that way he had. His scruff against my skin was outrageous. I was about to tear my clothes off for him when he pulled back suddenly. He glanced at the clock on my oven.
“Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was. I have to go.”
I glanced away from him so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in my eyes. “Okay.”
I expected something further, some sort of explanation after all we’d shared. I’d taken for granted that he’d spend the night with me. It was what I wanted, but we weren’t dating. We weren’t exclusive by any means. He had a life, a busy one at that, so I hid the disappointment I felt.
Disappointment.
Another emotion that I’d missed in the total absence of emotions I’d experienced over the past year.
“I’m sorry.” He was sincere, but I had no response.
So, as usual, I shrugged.
“That fucking shrug.”
A smile tipped my lips.
“When can I see you again?” he asked. I was about to shrug when he stopped me. “I swear to God, if you even shrug right now…”
“What?” I prodded, provoking the beast.
He stepped in front of me, his body flush against mine, and he grabbed my chin roughly. My eyes met his, and his were hot with desire.
“You’ll be in big trouble. And then I’ll fuck you. Hard.”
“Fuck me hard before you go,” I whispered, the ache for him overwhelming me.
“I can’t,” he said, stepping back as regret filtered through his dark eyes. Disappointment
“Some would argue that you are an expert.”
“Because of my dad?” I sighed dramatically. I hated the labels that came with a rock star daddy. “Hardly.”
He shook his head. “Not because of your dad. Because of you. You listened as a fan. You can judge that record however you want. You can take every experience you’ve had in your life and bring it to the table every time you listen. So that makes you an expert.” He took another bite of salad, not done eating.
I stared across the table at him, enjoying just looking at his face. Studying him, getting to know every line, every expression, every sentiment expressed in his eyes. “I love that.”
“It’s true of any art form. None of us are experts, and we’re all allowed our own opinions. On anything.”
“Well this expert likes Flashing Light’s lead guitarist better than lead vocalist.”
“Surprising given your father.”
“Not really. Why would I go for vocals when that’s my dad’s role?”
“Touché. You done?” He nodded toward my salad.
“All yours.”
He pulled my plate on top of his and proceeded to scarf down the rest of my salad.
“They don’t feed you on tour?”
He shrugged. “Not homemade food.”
“I could’ve made you a nicer meal than salad.”
He shoveled in the last bite. “This is perfect, Jimi. As are you.”
I lowered my eyes to the table. “Shut up.”
“You don’t know how to take a compliment.”
“No arguments here.” I picked up our empty plates and brought them to my kitchen sink. “I’ve spent my entire life assuming people only want to talk to me because of my dad.” I rinsed the two plates, and I felt Parker move in behind me again. That was becoming his signature move.
His voice was low and close to my ear when he spoke. “But you assume I want something else?”
“I heard you defending me in the alley to Vinnie when you couldn’t have had any idea I was listening.”
I set the two plates and forks in the dishwasher, trying to move out of his orbit even though I was finding it more and more difficult to. I cleaned up the counters and put the salad fixings away. He leaned against the counter and watched me.
“I already told you about the first time I saw you. I couldn’t let him talk shit when I’d already put you up on a pedestal.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stalked toward me and pressed my body back into the countertop. “I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being honest.”
He leaned down and nuzzled my neck in that way he had. His scruff against my skin was outrageous. I was about to tear my clothes off for him when he pulled back suddenly. He glanced at the clock on my oven.
“Shit. I didn’t realize how late it was. I have to go.”
I glanced away from him so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in my eyes. “Okay.”
I expected something further, some sort of explanation after all we’d shared. I’d taken for granted that he’d spend the night with me. It was what I wanted, but we weren’t dating. We weren’t exclusive by any means. He had a life, a busy one at that, so I hid the disappointment I felt.
Disappointment.
Another emotion that I’d missed in the total absence of emotions I’d experienced over the past year.
“I’m sorry.” He was sincere, but I had no response.
So, as usual, I shrugged.
“That fucking shrug.”
A smile tipped my lips.
“When can I see you again?” he asked. I was about to shrug when he stopped me. “I swear to God, if you even shrug right now…”
“What?” I prodded, provoking the beast.
He stepped in front of me, his body flush against mine, and he grabbed my chin roughly. My eyes met his, and his were hot with desire.
“You’ll be in big trouble. And then I’ll fuck you. Hard.”
“Fuck me hard before you go,” I whispered, the ache for him overwhelming me.
“I can’t,” he said, stepping back as regret filtered through his dark eyes. Disappointment
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