FALLING FOR THE ROCKSTAR (#1 ROCKSTAR SERIES)

♪ five - part two ♪ 🔥

In the Uber, I focused on the scenery as we cruised through the light Friday night traffic. Flashing lights, crowds on sidewalks after exiting bars, lining up for nightclubs. Horns, cars clustering up and down the avenue, trying to squeeze into tight alleyways in search of secret parking spaces.

We traversed into East Village, which was where I remembered Cameron said he lived. I wasn't too used to this area, but it was lit-up, busy, bustling with life. We pulled up at his residence—a light brownstone building in delightful shape, compared to mine—and we all but ran up the entry stairs to get to the elevator inside the lobby.

The elevator ride was so tense, so quiet, I worried if I opened my mouth we'd rip each other's clothes off then and there. We stood on opposite ends of the space, biting our lips, squeezing the railing to keep ourselves balanced. But also to hold us back. It was a nice, luxurious elevator; but without even speaking about it, we knew that having sex here—or getting started here—wasn't what we wanted. As hot as elevator sex could be, that'd be for another time, once we were more familiar. So we kept our distance, glancing at each other, up and down, left to right, holding our tongues.

I wasn't much of a dirty talker, and Cameron hadn't said anything overly naughty in our texts so far. But from the gleam in his eye, the way his lower lip puffed out and showed me glimpses of his tongue as it danced in his mouth—this was about to get filthy. And I couldn't wait.

In all my sexual experiences in the past, I'd been restrained, rarely as bold as I'd been tonight. Even my one-night-stands were orchestrated, to an extent; this was unplanned. It was spontaneous and sexy and exciting.

The hallway was pristine, with dim, tasteful lights that flickered on as we walked by. The apartments doors were spaced apart, which meant the apartments themselves were spacious, which I'd deduced from the looks of the building—and the fact that we were in East Village. Cameron didn't pretend like he didn't make good money; but this location confirmed it.

Inside the apartment, he flipped the light switch on and threw his keys into a bowl on a sleek white-wood commode by the door. I noted the impeccable white walls and hardwood floors and the elegant but understated décor. Straight ahead, splitting the area in two, was a set of wide stairs leading to an upper floor that I imagined would be as well-kept as the rest of the downstairs floor-plan.

He waited for me to let my purse slip from my shoulders before he gently pushed me against the wall, then placed one hand on either side of me. He put his nose up to mine, his body shoving into me, his heat making me sweat. I felt every inch of him, his eagerness, his excitement. It took all my might to not moan in yearning.

"You want this, right?" His brandy and mint breath gave me shivers as he backed out of my space, hesitant. "I have to make sure I didn't imagine you consenting to this. That you didn't come here out of fear or because you were pressured."

"No pressure," I said, aroused by his speech about consent. "I want you."

Breathless, I was losing the fight with my restraint against shoving my tongue into his mouth. Squirming underneath him, I begged myself internally to be patient, to let him make that first move. He obviously wanted to play around with me, rub his covered erection against me to rile me up a bit.

But he didn't need to do anything to get me there. My consent, my desire, was the trigger, and he'd yanked it. By giving me the option, by stating his desires but not forcing them on me, he'd made me want him more.

His mouth met mine with a vigor that shocked through me, but opened up a well of pleasure I hadn't been aware was closed. Our lips collided with passion, opening to intertwine our tongues, eager and excited for contact. He tasted like that brandy I'd gotten a whiff of, and the mint, too, but also a hint of coffee, of cream. God, he was delicious. And skilled, his tongue twirling in motions I had a difficult time keeping up with. It was one of those kisses that kept taking your breath away, and you wanted it to. It knocked me out, made me dizzy, made my legs weak, and I needed more, more.