Rock My Bed
Page 8

“Are you serious?” My thoughts instantly flick to a second chance with Riff. Sleeping with a bad boy of rock and roll has always been one of my bucket list items, and now that I know he’s interested there’s no way he won’t be down for a night of hot sweaty sex. After all, he’s famous for one-night stands.
“Totally serious. I know how much you wanted to get backstage and meet the guys before, so I figure I kind of owe you.”
I fight the urge to toss my ice cream on the floor and throw my arms around her and go into a total girl hugging and screaming fit of excitement. She really is my best friend.
That last thought causes my heart to twist a little and makes me feel like a complete jerk. Would a best friend keep a huge secret? Isaac is asking a lot from me, but I know deep down, he’s right. Telling her now would only cause her to do something crazy, like walk out on Center Stage Marketing. Lanie’s hot-headed, and when she’s pissed she speaks her mind with no filter.
Before I can struggle anymore with the internal debate, her cell phone rings. Noel’s calling her again. She answers with a sickly sweet tone to her voice and I shake my head with a grin on my face. Fight him my ass, that boy will have her in his bed before the week is up. For a while I sit and listen to how happy she is by merely talking to him and my thoughts are confirmed. I can’t screw this up for her. If she knows the truth, she’ll never go to him and possibly find happiness.
I whisper and tell her we can skip the movie and that I’m heading to bed. She waves me off and continues to talk to Noel. Yep, I give it a week tops before she’s humping him.
I set my bowl on my nightstand as my cell buzzes with a new message. I had nearly given up hope of hearing back from Riff, so I’m caught off guard when I see there’s a new message from him on our private message thread.
I gnaw on my lip as I read his words. Just as I thought, he’s totally down for a one-nighter. Bad boys make the best lovers, and Riff is one that I can’t wait to sample. I pull the ticket he gave me from my nightstand drawer and read the crude words.
One Night with a Rock Star
Admit One
I shake my head and laugh. It’s clever, really. Handing out tickets like sex with him is a coveted prize. Suddenly, the silly ‘golden ticket’ song from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory rings through my mind. Bad boy Riff has a sense of humor. This could be fun.
Riff,
Tempting…
Aubrey
P.S. What’s up with the Wild Cat name? Do you call all the women you try to bed that?
I hit send and I hope this time it doesn’t take him two days to respond. Five minutes later, another message dings in.
Kitten (since you seem opposed to Wild Cat),
You’re my only Wild Cat. I knew from the minute you tried to resist me, that deep down there’s a naughty girl inside you dying to bust out and cash in that ticket. You contacting me only proves my theory. So why don’t you save us both a lot of trouble and name your time and place so we can fuck each other out of our systems.
Name the date.
Riff
I nearly choke on my ice cream as I read his words. Just like when he kissed me backstage, he’s not afraid to go all out and say exactly what he has on his mind. I respect him for that.
I reread his message, and while I agree one hundred percent that we need to get this over with, I don’t want to seem like one of his random sluts that can be used. I do want a little respect from him. If I can keep this little messaging game up for a bit, and make him wait, I’ll stick in his mind. I’m fully prepared to give into his wicked ways when I visit Lanie on the road with the band, but I want to be the girl that blows his mind. The woman, when he looks back, who was most amazing in bed.
Dearest Cocky Riff,
You want me? You have to earn it. It’ll be worth it.
Aubrey
Either he’ll take the challenge or I’ll never hear from him again. Before I have a time to toss my phone on my bed, another message comes in.
Name your terms, Kitten…
I nearly squeal with delight. Game on.
RIFF
Damn it. Only a few messages in and I’ve already let her gain the upper hand. This is so not good. I stare at the message I just sent her and bounce my leg while I wait for the floodgate to be unleashed.
Noel comes out of the back room or as I like to call it his throne room. It kind of pisses me off that because he’s the front man everyone willingly handed him the only bedroom on the bus. See where his fucking privacy got him.
Trip turns around from the kitchen sink and acknowledges our band mate.
“What’s up, man?” Noel says to Trip as he plops down on the bench seat attached to the kitchen table.
Noel slides the opened pack of Oreos that I left on the table away from him. At least he knows not to touch those. Too bad he didn’t realize the same rule applied to the chicks I’m banging. Everyone knows not to touch my fucking cookies or I go ape shit. That’s one thing I don’t share with these assholes. They’d eat every single one if I weren’t such a dick about it.
Noel clears his throat. “I need to have a band meeting.”
I roll my eyes. Leave it to Noel to always be the one to call for a band meeting like there’s a problem with the rest of us. Usually the problem is him, or caused by him. Ever since we dubbed him the band’s leader—none of us wanted the responsibility of making tough decisions for the group—he’s taken it to extremes. Calling band meetings is typically a way he gets to bitch at us for some stupid reason or another.