Xander: Part 2, The Present (Rockstar Book 14) Page 4

  He leans in so his face is right in mine. “I’m the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you, Tera Louise Ramirez Mackenzie. Settled. Are you fucking kidding me? I’m a catch, baby. I’m a fucking rockstar! I could have as many women as I want every night of the week. Settled. Give me a fucking break.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Oh yeah? Do tell.”

  I’m sorry, Xander.

  “You can’t have me.”

  He nods and smirks, hands on his hips, as he lets out a quiet humorless laugh.

  “And what’s new with that, huh?” he replies.

  I don’t flinch—not where he can see it, but oh, does it hurt—my heart.

  “This is what you want?” He’s not really asking, just talking aloud. He’s angry and hurt and lashing out at me—just as I knew he would.

  “Is it?” he whisper-shouts.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “You got it.”

  With that, he turns and walks to the door. He hesitates before turning the knob, not looking back.

  “You’re going to regret this.”

  He opens the door and closes it with a quiet click.

  Oh, Xan, I already do.

  “You idiot!” Linc yells at me.

  “Shut up. You don’t know—”

  “Little sister, I sure as hell do. I know.” He paces, agitated with me—again. “Why’d you do it?”

  “He deserves more than I have to give.”

  “That’s his decision. And a man has a right to know about his child! Jesus. Fuck!”

  “There is no child,” I whisper, wiping the tears.

  “You should have told him. It’s his right as the father—as your husband. You need to tell him,” Lincoln tells me, continuing the lecture.

  After Xander walked out of my room, he told everyone in the room I wanted a break so he was giving it to me. He didn’t want me to feel like I was settling. I really hate that word, now.

  Then, as I watched from the doorway of my room, Xander gave me one last look before he walked out of my apartment and out of my life.

  “Maybe there’s something else out there for me,” I say aloud. Dante’s really kind and good-looking and sexy. “So what if no guy can set me on fire like Xander does—no one will ever be able to—but maybe they’ll come damn close. I can live with that so long as Xander Mackenzie is out there living life, making the most out of it, and not wasting his time on the broken girl he thought he fell in love with at the age of eight. Who falls in love in grade school?” I scoff.

  “You two,” Linc reminds me.

  “Puppy love. This too shall pass.”

  “Who’re you trying to convince?” Lincoln asks before he grabs his gym bag and heads out the door.

  Me.

  6

  TERA

  It's been six months since I’ve heard from Xander. It's what I wanted and yet, I didn't. He's moved on. I've seen him in photos, magazines, and on the gossip channels with models and actresses; gorgeous, beautiful women—but never the same woman twice.

  Over the last six months, Shea's come to hang out a lot and I've focused on my painting. Dante—Mr. DiMora—had a construction crew install a stairway going from my apartment down to the studio. It's all enclosed and protected with a keypad lock. I really think he's going to too much trouble to appease my needs. He's always been that way.

  When he found out Xander and I are on a break, he asked me on a date. I looked at him and laughed. Really? I don't go anywhere. I can't. The second I get too close to the door, I begin to shake and sweat. It's as bad as it gets—the panic.

  Agoraphobia is what my psychiatrist calls it. I call it me not trusting anyone I don't know, especially in open spaces. Some days, I can't even stand by the windows to look at the people below. I get a panicked feeling that they're staring at me, that they are just biding their time and scoping things out before they come back here to hurt me. It's those days I close the pale pink sheers. I can still look out, but up here, no one can see in.

  I am a mess. My heart's a wreck. My head's chaotic. My body's damaged.

  I want so much to go in and get the tests done to see if I'm able to carry children, but I don't know how that would work. How would I get there without giving myself a panic-induced heart attack or hyperventilate?

  It's really a moot point right now, anyway. I'm not with Xander anymore, and I certainly don't want to have children with anyone else.

  Well, that's telling, isn't it?

  My subconscious mind reveals this to me a lot. But I do nothing about it. And I won't. Xander's living his life the way he's meant to—even if it's killing me inside that I'm not a part of it.

  Tonight, I'm having dinner with Dante again. It's our fifth date. I've cooked or we've ordered in up until now, but tonight he's got something special planned down in the gallery.

  The back part of the gallery was added on to accommodate my studio upstairs. In that section downstairs is the new office area and a small bedroom for nights the gallery shows run late.

  I'm putting the finishing touches on my lipstick when I see Linc leaning against the doorjamb, watching me.

  "What?" I ask, seeing the judgment in his eyes.

  He shakes his head. "You're really going to do this?"

  "Do what? Move on? Date a handsome man who is kind and generous? If that's what you're asking then, yes. I am going to do this," I reply, knowing full well he's asking about me sleeping with Dante. It's been a gradual lead up to this point. I know what tonight's about and Lincoln is no dummy. There's a reason we're having dinner downstairs.

  "You're going to fuck him. I know you are. What I don't get is, why? Why are you doing this to yourself?" he asks.

  I turn to face him. I no longer get angry or upset or, even, guilty when he asks me this.

  "Have you seen the press? He's happy, Lincoln. He's living the life of a rockstar and I want that for him so much," I admit.

  "Even if it doesn't include you?"

  I nod. "Yes. Even if it doesn't include me."

  "You're an idiot."

  I just sigh.

  "You think he's happy?"

  "I do. His smile isn't faked. It's genuine, Linc. You see it as well as I do. He hasn't smiled like that in so long, not one of those smiles."

  "And you think that has to do with you being here and him being there. Him doing whatever with whomever and vice versa."

  I nod.

  "I've talked to Ethan a lot. Xander isn't as happy as you think he is. He still worries about you whether you allow him to be here with you or not—and because he's there and you're here, he worries even more. He calls me, T. Me. To find out if you're okay," Linc informs me.

  "I know. I'm doing just fine. I hope you tell him that."

  "I do. I lie for you."

  I shake my head and he holds up a finger.

  "Don't lie to me. I know you, Tera. I know you as well as I know myself. You're miserable on the inside. You want him here with you, but you think he's better off out there."

  "We've been over this a hundred times, Linc. He is better off without me. Right now, he is," I defend when Linc looks to argue with me.

  "Ah. And there it is. 'Right now'."

  "I admit it. I hope one day we'll be back together, but if he finds someone before that day, I will be happy for him. I truly will. All I want is for him to be happy," I tell him truthfully.

  "What about you?"

  "What about me?"

  "Don’t you deserve that kind of happiness?" he asks.

  "I'm not ready for that kind of happiness, Lincoln. I am a walking, talking disaster. I need to work on me before there can be a 'we'." I laugh. "See what I did there?"

  One side of his lip lifts. "What if it's too late, then?"

  I shrug a shoulder. "Then I find my other someone, too."

  "They'll never be him."

  "Well, no. No one will ever be him," I whisper.

  "Are you really okay with this Dante guy? You
trust him?" my protective big brother asks.

  "I trust him. He's been nothing but kind."

  "He wants to get you in his bed tonight. You ready for that?"

  "You're doing 'girl talk' with me? That's usually reserved for Shea."

  He nods. "Damn right. I'm very confident in my masculinity."

  "With arms bigger than my thighs, I can see why," I tease.

  "Stop deflecting."

  "I hate that you know me so well."

  "Twin curse," he grins.

  I sigh. "Yes. I am ready for that. It's been leading up to this and, if I'm being completely honest during this 'girl talk', I'll admit I want to know if I can feel anything other than empty."

  "With anyone who isn't Xander."

  "Yeah."

  He pulls me in for a hug. "I get it. I know why you're doing it. I know you're just wasting time until you get back to where you're supposed to be, but I'm gonna step back, Tera. I'm going to let you make these decisions and mistakes and I really fucking hope you learn from them—sooner rather than later."

  "Who knows? I might fall in love with Dante," I question, leaning back and looking at him.

  "If you haven't already fallen for that slick dude, you're not gonna."

  I shove his shoulder, which doesn't budge. "Whatever. I'm gonna get laid tonight."

  "I got laid last weekend," he taunts.

  "Bravo. Now, it's my turn," I tell him and head downstairs.

  There's candlelight, soft music playing in the background, and the handsome man that is Dante DiMora—all waiting for me. Not just for dinner.

  "This is beautiful, Dante." It's so much more than that. Roses. There are roses and rose petals scattered about.

  I'm not going to lie. I'm nervous. Since the attack, it's only been Xander and that was just one weekend. No one's touched me since… not intimately. I don't know what to expect from Dante or myself.

  "Sparkling cider?" he asks.

  I nod and take the champagne flute from him. He knows I can't drink alcohol while on the medications I'm on. I appreciate the effort he made to accommodate that. Not every man would.

  "Thank you."

  He smiles softly. "You are nervous?"

  "A little."

  He reaches out to rest his hands on my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. "There is no need, little dove. You know me. I know you."

  I nod and inhale his scent. It's an expensive cologne but it definitely does the trick. I feel the tingle of arousal all from his scent—even more so when he leans down to press a soft kiss to the side of my neck.

  He kisses my neck, my cheeks, my lips; and when he begins to remove my clothes, his lips touch every part of my body. I knew he was experienced, but I had no idea he'd be a considerate and attentive lover. Every breath, every moan, he learns from, enhancing my pleasure until I come apart in his arms. I'm shaky and wobbly. He carries me to the bed.

  I watch as he undresses, removing his tie, shirt, shoes, socks, and slacks, leaving him in black silk boxers. That would seem silly—wasting silk on boxers—if I didn't know him as well as I do. Everything has to be the best for Dante.

  Dante winks at me then wiggles his eyebrows as he removes his boxers and I have to laugh.

  I look at him naked and he definitely is a sexy man and I want him. He's not as "big" as Xander, but he's definitely not lacking in the endowment department.

  No. There is no room for Xander in this bed. I'm positive he doesn't think of me while he fucks other women. I refuse to let him interfere tonight.

  I hold out my hand to Dante and he takes it, sliding next to me on the bed. He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a stream of condoms.

  "Whoa. You're definitely prepared," I tease.

  He grins. "You think you can handle it?"

  "I don't think you can handle me," I taunt.

  He smirks and dips his fingers between my legs.

  "Ah, still so wet and ready for me. It was a beautiful thing to watch you come. I want to see that again."

  He rips open the condom and rolls it on.

  I pull him down to me. The feel of his fingers rubbing me ignited the spark again.

  Slowly, he positions himself at my entrance.

  "Are you sure?" he asks, one last time.

  I nod. "I am."

  With that, he gently slips inside me. Inch by inch, watching my face as he does, gauging my expression. His eyes darken and glaze over, and when he's fully inside of me, he groans.

  "You feel amazing."

  I'm dying here. He's going so slow and I want hard and dirty. I don't want slow. I don't want sweet. I want him to fuck me. I want to come. I want to know I can feel that with someone other than— "Please," I beg.

  "What do you want, darling?"

  "I need you to move."

  So he does, but it's slow again, and I'm frustrated.

  "Dante," I say as I reach up to hold his face in my hands.

  "Mmm," he replies.

  "Faster. I want it fast."

  "You want me to fuck you?" he probes with a devilish grin as he continues his slow but deep thrusts—driving me insane.

  "Yes. I need you to fuck me hard," I mewl, all but begging.

  He winks at me. "You only need to tell me and I will give you anything you want."

  He lifts one of my legs over his hip and begins a hard, steady rhythm. He gets so deep and it feels so good, I lift the other leg and lock them behind his back, arching my back, lifting my hips to meet him in the middle.

  "Oh, yes," I moan when he thrusts hard and begins moving faster. "Just like that, please…"

  Nonsensical things fly from my mouth, begging, pleading for him to give me the orgasm I'm chasing but is just out of reach.

  "Not yet. It's too good and I don't want it to end yet."

  "Dante…"

  We move and moan and sweat and pant and fuck like it's the last time we'll ever be able to fuck anyone again. It's a hard, pounding rhythm now, one that sends the sparks to a steady, increasing burn.

  "Oh, God. Please," I beg.

  "You're so wet and hot—so tight. Mmm, Tera you're magnificent."

  "I need to come, Dante. Please make me come."

  He doesn't hesitate. He shifts us, just a little, but it's everything. It gives me what I couldn't get…

  "Oh yes, yes, yes," I cry out as the orgasm nears.

  He leans down and sucks on my nipple, then bites the tip gently between his teeth. That's it. I explode, like, major detonation.

  "Yes!" I moan as the orgasm barrels through me, wicked and hot and sharp, almost painful.

  He groans over me, his body shuddering, his breath stuttering out as he comes.

  I can't watch him come. I don't know why. I just can't.

  When he stills, he rolls us to our side, giving this an air of intimacy I don't want to experience. I lean back, lift my hands to push my hair out of my face, looking everywhere but at him. I know he knows what I'm doing. I know he's watching me. I just don't know what to do next.

  He fixes that problem for me. He slips out of me and out of the bed toward the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

  I merely nod as I roll to my back, slipping under the covers and pulling them up to my chest. I stare at the ceiling.

  I can't believe I just slept with someone who isn't Xander. I close my eyes and fight back the tears, but they slip out anyway. I can't stop them no matter how hard I try, so I give up and let them fall.

  Dante must have anticipated this because, when he comes back from the bathroom, he's carrying a box of tissues. He pulls a couple free and hands them to me, taking one for himself to wipe my tear-stained cheeks.

  "Come here, darling," he says softly, kindly, as he sits with his back against the headboard. He pulls me onto his lap, nearly cradling me, letting me purge the grief, the pain, the ache, the shame.

  He whispers sweet words and holds me while I cry.

  "I-I'm sorry," I sob.

  "Hush. Don't you dare apologize for being
human," he replies.

  I hate that I'm doing this after we just had sex. I don't want him to think it's about him. This has everything to do with me and the fact I gave myself to someone other than my estranged husband—the love of my life, the one I forced out of my life.

  Finally, the tears let up and I look at Dante, my makeup likely smeared everywhere.

  "I don't want you to think I'm crying because of you or what we just did. It's not."

  "Shh," he whispers, taking a tissue and wiping beneath my eyes. "I know, Tera. I know you. I know your heart. So, I know what the tears are about."

  "I did this," I sniffle. "I told him to go. I want him to be happy."

  "Darling, what makes you think he wasn't happy with you?" Dante asks, sliding us down so we're lying face-to-face, hands held as if we're about to arm wrestle.

  "The photos. The fact that he couldn't live the rockstar life—not completely, like the others are. It's unfair for him. He deserves to experience all of that. The groupies, the parties, the other musicians, the fame, the fortune, and the sex. That's what the rocker life is all about, right? Sex, drugs, and rock and roll—especially to those who are young like Xander is," I confess.

  "Did you talk to him about this?" Dante asks patiently.

  "I have. Multiple times."

  "And?"

  "And he always gives me the same answer—the one he knows I need to hear. After everything that we've been through, after the distance between us physically, emotionally, and geographically, I don't know if he's still being honest with himself."

  "You think he'd want to live the life his friends are, but he wouldn't want to tell you because it would hurt you?"

  I nod.

  "I want more for him. I want him to have everything, to experience everything, as a true rockstar should. They made it to number one and they let themselves, for just one night, enjoy themselves. They didn't have to think about the media. They didn't have to worry about me. They shouldn't have to," I admit.

  "But—"

  "Ben was right, Dante. I heard him ask why it was wrong for them to be able to enjoy one night. They worked so hard for this. They earned the right to party however they want to party and without restrictions. Their security, their crew—they all deserved that night. And, because of me, they woke up in a panic when they saw the images. That memory, the one of them hitting number one for the first time, will forever be tainted because of their obligation to me. I don't want that for them and I sure as hell don't want to be an obligation to anyone."