Rockstar by Lexi Adair Read Free Book Online Page B

jawline as her thumb absently stroked his cheek. Her emerald studded eyes glimmered softly as her lips curved into a tender smile. “Who says I want to share you?"
    "You don't want your story?"
    "There'll be another."
    He rested his head on her breast while she absently ran her fingers through his hair. There was nothing else she could have said that would have pleased him more. And nothing that could have melted the last hard edges of his heart.
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Chapter Seven
    As daylight gave way to the amber hues of sunset Summer grew restless waiting for Anthony's return. They'd greeted their last day in rain-drizzled Seattle with a sweaty tumble beneath the sheets. But morning had come and gone and at quarter ‘til eleven Anthony had dragged himself from the room.
    He had mumbled while he dressed. Cursing his manager for booking him a day of publicity events on their last day in town when all he'd wanted to do was spend it beneath the sheets. There was a part of her that hoped he would tell his manager to fuck off and come back to her bed. But he hadn't. Duty bound him just as it had bound her.
    Duty. She nearly scoffed at the word. Perhaps she wasn't as bound by her vocation as she had once thought. Never before would she have blown the story of a lifetime for a tumble beneath the sheets. Yet, strangely, she had no regrets. She would have turned down a hundred stories for chance to spend a moment in his arms. She was hopeless. Completely and utterly hopeless.
    There would be another story, she tried to remind herself as she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was already twenty after six. His laptop lay open on the bed beside her. The cursor blinking repeatedly, waiting for the next word. She'd written most of the day, the hours passing like minutes as her fingers flew over the keyboard.
    The story, half truth, half indulged fiction, mirrored her exploits, revealed her heart's desire, exposed her deepest thoughts. It wasn't what she had come for or what she had set out to write, but her fingers had taken over as she penned the story that could never be published.
    The words flowed from her like a waterfall. Spilling, sometimes haphazardly, onto the page. The story would forever be hers to keep. A diary the world would never see. She would keep it as a reminder, for too soon their moment would pass and they would go their separate ways. She may have been a writer, but she wasn't a romantic. In real-life there was no such thing as a happily-ever-after.
    Her dark thoughts turned to their inevitable departure from this room, from this fantasy they had created. The thought had drowned the love-stricken words that had filled the page. She'd had attempted to break the block with a long hot bath but a soak in the tub had not chased away her writer's block.
    Her clothes had been torn to shreds during their lovemaking so she'd rummaged through Anthony's suitcase and slipped into a white T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. She returned to the laptop and stared blankly at the screen but the words refused to come.
    Summer heard the door click open. She tabbed over to her open email and attached the file she'd been working on. She clicked “send” and then slammed the laptop shut.
    She rose and crossed the room to poise herself in the threshold. She leaned her elbow against the door frame. Her head rested in the palm of her upturned hand. She let her gaze trail lazily across the room before settling on him beneath lowered brows. “You're late."
    Anthony drew his gaze slowly up the length of her body as he dropped his shoulder and the guitar case slip free to fall to the floor with a heavy thud. “You're gorgeous."
    Summer peeled herself from the doorway. Her bare feet padded silently across the carpet as she drew to him. She watched the dance of desire flicker in his haunting gaze. The desire reflected in his eyes matched the hunger searing insider her as she drew in the delectable vision of him. She buried