Built to Fall: A Rock Star Romance

DOMINIC DIDN’T PLAY MY song at his second show in New Orleans. I was disappointed, but only slightly. Last night had been special, just for me. Yes, I’d shared it with thousands of other people, but not thousands more tonight.

Marta and I danced to Dominic’s music again, singing along until my throat burned. Adam joined us late in the show, wrapping me up in his arms like we were long-lost friends and hadn’t just seen each other backstage an hour before.

“Party in our suite tonight,” he whisper-shouted into my ear.

“Is that an invitation?” I asked.

“It is. Are you accepting?” He grinned excitedly and bounced on his toes.

“As long as Dominic doesn’t need me, I’ll be there.” I elbowed Marta. “Are you in?”

She paused her singing. “For what?”

“Party in our suite,” Adam answered.

She fist-bumped with him. “Hell yes, my friend. It’s about time you guys use that suite of yours for good and not evil.”

I gasped. “Have you been committing human sacrifices in there?”

Adam’s eyes shifted right and left. “I’m innocent, I swear.”

My attention was pulled away from him when the audience went wild. I went wild too, even though I hadn’t heard what we were cheering for. Dominic made it easy to get caught up in his show, to feel like you were part of it and vital.

When the concert was over, Marta and I went straight to his dressing room to check in and see if he needed us. Only a few people were milling around, but Dominic was alone in a corner, drinking from a water bottle and keeping watch on the door.

He stood when he saw us, leaving the bottle behind. “Let’s go.”

I caught his arm, which was still a little slick with sweat. “Don’t you need to stay and talk to people?”

“No. I’ve done enough of that.” He sounded pissed off, which seemed impossible given the incredible show he’d just put on.

Marta and I flanked him as we made our way through the corridor. “Are you tired?” I asked.

“No.” He rubbed his face with both hands and breathed out a long exhale. “Are you?”

“Not really.”

“I’m not tired either. Thanks for asking,” Marta chimed.

Dominic huffed a short laugh. “If you go out tonight, try not to get too shitfaced. The plane takes off at ten and your ass will get left behind if you’re late.”

“I’m not going out. Claire and I happen to have been invited to a very elegant soiree in a hotel suite tonight. Try not to be jealous,” Marta deadpanned.

Dominic said nothing, but I felt his eyes on the side of my face as we continued walking to the car. He didn’t let up on the ride to the hotel, and after a few minutes of allowing him to stare without challenge, I stared back. Neither of us spoke, but tension built in the space between us anyway.

I had no idea what I’d done to make him angry, but there was no denying he was. I couldn’t say I wasn’t confused by my torrent of feelings for him, but I tried to remain as professional as possible, and he seemed to want to make that difficult.

By the time we were in the elevator to our floor, I felt like I might go insane if I spent one more second in his presence. The way he looked at me, the low, simmering anger just below his surface, what he wasn’t saying, and what he had said, swirled together in my consciousness. Marta chattered with us both, but I couldn’t concentrate—not with Dominic Cantrell across from me in the too-small moving box, frowning and blazing his eyes along my skin.

The doors slid open, and I barely refrained from throwing myself through them. Instead, I calmly followed Marta out with Dominic directly behind me.

“Goodnight, Claire. Marta.” That was all he said before he sauntered away like he hadn’t just engaged me in eye contact warfare for the last twenty minutes.

Noise, music, and people spilled from the suite at the opposite end of the hall, so it wasn’t hard for Marta and me to find the party. The living area wasn’t filled, but there were lots of bodies milling around.

“We need drinks,” I said.

“Absolutely.” Marta clasped my hand, and we wove around the room until we came upon the dining table laden with a surprising array of alcohol.

“Claire, Marta, you’re here!” Iris hugged us both with equal fervor, which made me a little sad since Marta desired so much more. “Allow me to be the bartender, ladies. What will you have? Actually, let me surprise you with my signature cocktail.”

She ended up making us a concoction from many bottles, which tasted strong and sweet—a dangerous combination.

“Yum.” Marta licked her lips after one sip, which made Iris laugh.

“It’s terrible. You can say it. I’m like the one musician who never worked as a bartender before signing a record deal.” Iris turned her attention to me. “Tell me the truth, Claire.”

I swallowed more of my drink and hummed. “It will get me drunk fast.”

Iris pumped her fist. “Hell yes, honey bunny. And really, isn’t that the goal?”

From behind me, someone slipped a string of beads around my neck. Without checking to see who it was, I said, “I’m not showing you my tits, so you can take your necklace back if you’re expecting it.”

Adam laughed and hugged me from behind, his arms around my shoulders. “That’s a freebie.” He kissed the side of my head, then leaned down to whisper in my ear. “And did you mean never, or not right now?”

I couldn’t decide how I wanted to answer. Flirt or laugh him off? If I tried to be sexy, it would undoubtedly come out awkward, but I wasn’t sure I even wanted to be sexy with him.

So, I tipped my head back, giving him what I hoped was an enigmatic smile, and winked. He grinned back at me, so I must not have looked too ridiculous.

“Where are my beads?” Marta demanded.

Adam broke away from me to pull another string of beads from his pocket and place them around her neck. “There you go, princess. I’m the official beadmaster of this shindig.”

Iris nodded. “I dubbed him that when he came back to the suite with a thousand beads from some tourist trap he stumbled into this afternoon.”

I gasped. “You have a thousand beads and I got one measly strand?”

He tapped my nose. “Keep being cute and you might find yourself with two measly strands.”

“So generous,” I teased.

As much fun as I was having with Adam, I felt like I was practicing with him. I flexed my dormant flirting skills, basked in his attention, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted this to go further than it already had.

The four of us hung out, drinking and singing terribly to the music we could barely hear over the din of voices. Iris made another powerful drink for Marta and me, and it went down even smoother than the first.

The more I drank, the cuter Adam became. I got another two bead necklaces by dancing with Adam and Rodrigo, and a third by taking a shot of something that tasted like Swedish Fish and burned like lava.

Feeling slightly overheated, I broke away from the group and leaned against a cool, floor-to-ceiling window, my head just the right amount of floaty. Adam followed, bracing his hand on the window beside my head, his fingers toying with the ends of my hair.

“You’re so pretty when you’re tipsy.” He dipped down, his face slowly closing in on mine. “So pretty,” he murmured.

At the last second, I giggled and turned my head away. I hadn’t had a first kiss since I was nineteen, and my nerves had gotten the better of me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss him, it was that I wasn’t ready at the moment.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

“Adam…” I giggled again, but he straightened and pulled back.

He tugged my hair good-naturedly. “It’s all good. I see someone I need to talk to. I’ll be back.”

Adam wandered off into the crowd, but I didn’t have time to dwell on possibly hurting his feelings. Rodrigo brought me another shot, and then we got caught up in a rousing game of rock, paper, scissors. We both kept choosing paper, then high-fiving with our paper hands.

“This game is never gonna end, preciosa.” He sounded excited about that more than anything.

“What if I do rock next and let you win?” I offered.

“Nope. I don’t want a pity win.” He bounced on his toes, his eyes wide and wild. “One more, winner takes all.”

Neither of us questioned what “all” was. I went for rock this time, and Rodrigo went for scissors. I pounded his scissors until he made an explosion sound with his mouth and his hand went flying into the air.

“Boom, Claire is the goddamn winner!” he cried. “She came in at the last second with the rock and blew her competition apart.”

Snorting with laughter, I fell against him. “I still can’t believe you went for scissors after I told you I was going for rock.”

“Cheaters never win, preciosa.” His arm curled around my waist. “Let’s go tell Adam his girl is the winner.”

Without giving me a chance to balk at being called Adam’s girl, Rodrigo tugged me through the crowd, weaving around groups and couples. Marta and Iris were together, but unfortunately, not alone. Marta gave me a subtle thumbs down, and I blew her a kiss.

Rodrigo stumbled as we passed one of the open doors to a bedroom and muttered, “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, what?” I tried to peer around him, but he blocked me.

“Let’s keep looking.” He tried to pull me away from the doorway, but he was drunk and clumsy, while I was drunk and determined. I ducked beneath his arm to see what he hadn’t wanted me to.

There was no mistaking Adam’s long, lean form stretched out on the bed beside a shirtless woman who had multiple bead necklaces strung around her neck. She writhed against him as they made out like they were running out of time. Desperate, mad, panting, humping. It would have been a turn on to watch if he hadn’t just tried to kiss me against his window. Was any man sincere? Adam obviously didn’t owe me a single thing, but this made my stomach twist.

“Gross,” I whispered, stumbling away from the train wreck.

“He’s drunk,” Rodrigo said, attempting to defend his boy.

“So am I. I managed to keep my tongue in my mouth.”

But why should I? I’d been a good girl for so long. Loyal to a disloyal husband. With one man for seven years, and instead of going wild when it ended, I’d taken time to “heal.”

Well, fuck that.

I didn’t have to be a good girl anymore. Men did whatever they wanted and enjoyed the hell out of it—it should be the same for me.

“He’s going to be sorry tomorrow,” Rodrigo said, rubbing my hand between his.

“Aren’t they always?” I tried to flip my hair behind my shoulders, but had a feeling the move more resembled swatting a fly.

“Oooh, burn with the truth napalm.” He looked me over with lazy, drunk eyes. “What’s your move?”

“I’m getting out of here. My buzz is too good to deal with Adam’s guilt when he’s done hooking up with that girl with the really nice boobs.”

He cupped my cheeks with both hands. “Are you good to get back to your room?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t going there, though. “I know the way.”

He gave my cheeks a pat, then spun me toward the door. “Go, fly high, pretty Claire. I’m gonna gloat so hard when I tell my boy you got to witness his fuck up. And I promise to tackle him if he bugs you.”

I waved over my shoulder and finally made it into the hall. A few people were still hanging out here, but it was a lot quieter than inside the suite. I took a deep breath, smoothed my palms over my black T-shirt dress, and walked with determination around the corner to another suite.

Dominic Cantrell’s suite.

I rapped my knuckles on his door and leaned against the jamb as I waited for him to open it. When he did, I almost stumbled forward—which wasn’t seductive at all.

“Claire?”

He wore nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, and the smell of soap and spice drifted from him into the hallway. His tattooed hands gripped the frame of the door, and the frown pulling at his mouth only served to make me even more committed to my mission.

I leaned into him, taking one step inside his room. “Why are you angry with me?”

He tried to laugh me off, rubbing his mouth as the low sound escaped. “You had to come to my room at one in the morning to ask me that?”

“Yes. If I did something wrong, I want to know. And if you’re just an ill-tempered dick, I want to know that too.” I took another step, my chest brushing against his, my head tipping back to keep my eyes on his.

“Are you drunk?” he murmured.

“Don’t avoid the question.” I slid a finger up the center of his chest and tapped on his throat. “Speak, sir.”

“Claire,” he breathed. “We’ll do this in the morning.”

“No. This won’t keep. Let me in, Dominic.”

With a heavy exhale, he gripped me by the waist and tugged me into his room. The air around us snapped, and my control was on the brink of doing the same.

“What do you want tonight?” His palm slid down the curve of my back, splaying at the top of my ass.

My pulse ratcheted, and I reached behind me, moving his hand lower. “I want to know why you’re angry. And then I want to be bad.”

There. There was no going back now.