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“I went to boarding school with Will. Henry and Tripp were the first mates I made when I began to pull away from my title. They saw my musical talent when I was playing solo and encouraged me to pursue a career in music. We met Louis on a busking tour of mainland Europe. He told us we were boring and run-of-the-mill, that we needed him and his magic fingers to add some depth to our music. He was right, I’m afraid. Arrogant bloody Frenchman.”
I giggled.
“While we’re close, we still haven’t managed to break the big time. So I think with some new material, the gala will be a big step up for us.”
“Fingers crossed.” I held both hands up with my forefingers and middle fingers crossed in front of me.
Cruz smiled at me and strummed his guitar.
“There’s this girl
She rocks my world
But she don’t know
She don’t know.
With raven hair
And a lively stare
She’s got my head all fucked around.”
“It sounds cool,” I said.
“Absolutely clueless,” Cruz said with a shake of his head.
“Me, clueless?” I sat up straight and pointed at myself.
“Yes.”
I raised my shoulders. “Is itnotgood?”
“It’s fucking brilliant, thank you very much.” Cruz set the guitar aside and got on his knees before me. He caught my chin with his thumb and brushed it over my lips. “It’s about you, strawberry.”
“What?”
“The song. It’s about you.”
For once in my life, Iwas speechless. Cruz Huntington, a semi-famous rock star, had written a song aboutme?
“You’ve no idea how I feel about you, do you? I know we barely know one another, but fucking hell, strawberry, you have me in knots.”
“Why do you call me strawberry?”
“Because of that morning after Aug’s party. Just us and the strawberry. Mmm… delicious. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since then.” Cruz purred the words as his eyes fluttered closed for a single moment. He brought his lips to mine and kissed me painfully slowly. “Mmm… delicious,” he repeated.
I rested my hands on his cheeks and resumed the kiss. Cruz was sensual and surprisingly gentle. Beneath the rich-boy rocker exterior was a sweet guy who wanted to be accepted for who he was, not what he was, not what he might’ve been.
I could accept him at face value.
Cruz gripped my hips and pulled me down to the floor. The shag rug was soft underneath me while his hard body hovered over me and drew me even deeper into him. He lifted my leg so it rested on his hip, and his hand skimmed my thigh.
“Wait,” I mumbled.
Cruz ran his hand from my cheek down to my breasts. Punch drunk on me, he muttered, “Why?”
Before I could say another word, the door to Cruz’s apartment slammed open, and in walked four guys.
