Nola

"What got you into rock music?" I asked, fishing for something safer to discuss.

Darius topped up my glass, then his. "For a long time, I didn't like the music that other kids my age were into, but I listened to it anyway because I didn't understand that there was anything else. My dad only let me use one of those old Nokia phones, so no internet access, and I didn't have a computer."

He smiled a little. "I was a retro kid. One day, the guy next door was decluttering his house, and he threw out some CDs that had come free with newspapers years ago."

"I think my mum still has some of those," I said.

That earned me another smile. "One of the CDs was a rock's greatest hits compilation. I fished it out of the guy's bin, and played it on the old CD player my dad kept in the loft. Alice Cooper's "Poison" was the first track, and from the moment I heard that opening riff, I was home. I'd finally found my place."

His face lit up while he talked, all the shadows from earlier melting away, and the breath caught in my throat at the sheer fucking beauty of him.

"And that made you want to form your own band one day?" I said.

"Not right away, but the more rock music I discovered, the more I felt like I was seeing my future."

"And it all started with that Alice Cooper song," I said, stubbing out the butt of my joint on the patio.

"In more ways than one," Darius murmured.

His joint had gone out; he took out his lighter and I waited patiently while he relit it, expecting him to continue the story.

"How do you mean?" I prompted when he didn't.

"Alice Cooper led me to rock music, but he led me to Rhydian too." Darius ran his fingertip around the rim of his glass, his face pensive. "When I was twelve, Alice was touring the UK. One of his shows was at the O2 arena and I knew I had to be there. I scrimped and saved for the ticket, doing odd jobs for any neighbour who'd pay me, looking for dropped cash in the street, anything."

"You little Charlie Bucket," I teased.

Darius chuckled. "I managed to get enough for the ticket, but I couldn't afford the train fare too, so I sneaked onto the train and spent the journey hiding on a luggage rack behind someone's suitcase."

"Seriously? How did you fit?"

A smile played around Darius's lips. "Believe it or not, I was a skinny little shit back then."

Glancing at him as he lounged on the seat, joint in one hand, gin in the other, his black flame tattoo flexing around his bicep, I did find that hard to believe.

Surely Darius Keller hadn't ever been a kid, not really. He'd just materialised as he was now, a rock god.

"I didn't immediately know it, but Rhydian was on the same train," Darius continued. "He wasn't initially going to the show – he'd just planned on getting lost in London – but like me, he couldn't afford the fare so he stole someone's train ticket. While he was wandering around Trafalgar Square, he overheard some guys outside a pub talking about the show, and decided to check it out. He swiped one of their tickets and went in his place. I met him there and we've been friends ever since."

"That sucks for the guy who'd bought the ticket though," I commented.

Darius acknowledged that with a slight nod.

"Why was Rhydian planning on getting lost in London?" I asked. He was the same age as Darius, which seemed way too young to be catching a train into the city by himself.

Stubbing out his joint, Darius raised the gin bottle to his lips, abandoning his glass.

I waited a few moments but he didn't answer. Clearly another line we weren't going to cross.

Not that I hadn't already learned a lot about him tonight. I had no idea he'd ever struggled with money or that he'd had a strained relationship with his dad. These weren't things he'd discussed in any interview I'd ever seen, which begged the question – why was he telling me?

"Does it feel strange for you to be rich now? It's such a big change from the twelve-year-old looking for loose cash on the streets, and it's happened so quickly," I said.

Darius laughed shortly. "Trust me, it didn't feel quick at the time. Like AC/DC said, it's long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll."

"I can't imagine how it must have felt when you first realised you'd made it, after dreaming about it for so long," I said.

Darius flashed me a grin that I felt right down to my core. "It definitely has its perks."

I glanced back at his house, sprawling behind us. "I can see."

His grin widened.

"Rolling in money, fans worldwide screaming your name, supermodels lining up to jump into bed with you – it seems like the whole job is a perk," I teased.

"I guess it depends who you are. I haven't taken advantage of the supermodels as much as you might think," Darius said.

I didn't want to say that I'd noticed he was almost never photographed with women because that sounded a bit too fangirly.

Instead, I went with, "Why not?"

"I don't do relationships, Nola."

I took the gin and swigged from the bottle, trying to drown the sudden, strange feeling in my chest.

"Why not?" I asked, wishing I wasn't repeating myself.

Darius rubbed his palm along his jaw. "I just have too much going on in my life to commit to anyone like that."

It was a plausible answer, yet at the same time I sensed there was more to it.

"Besides," Darius said, "relationships aren't all they're cracked up to be. Every guy Bianca's ever dated has been a disaster, yet I'm the weird one for not wanting any of that shit?"

I winced. "I haven't exactly challenged that perception, have I?"

Darius sat up a little. "Shit, Nola, I didn't mean you."

"I know, it's fine." But I couldn't meet Darius's eyes.

Despite everything Mike had put me through, I hadn't been put off relationships. I wasn't ready for anything like that yet, but one day I hoped I'd meet someone who'd build me up rather than tear me down. The thought that Darius didn't believe he'd have that made me deeply sad.

"It's getting late. I should probably go," I said, stifling a yawn.

"Stay here tonight. Your old room's still empty," Darius said.

I'd only slept in it once – that hardly made it my old room – but sleeping there would be easier than calling a taxi. And if I was honest with myself, as amazing as my apartment was, I didn't think of it as home yet. That wasn't so surprising, considering I'd lived there less than a week, but for some reason I liked the idea of crashing here more.

"Thanks," I said.

"Any time."

I took a final swig of the gin, bolstering my courage for one more question. "Why are you so good to me?"

Darius went very still. He met my gaze, his dark eyes penetrating. "Because you needed it."

Again, it was a plausible answer, but there had to be more to it. He wasn't giving me the full picture. I set the bottle down with a soft thunk.

"I'll see you in the morning," I said, and stood up.

"Hey, Nola?"

"Yeah?" I turned back to him.

Darius was still looking up at me, and fuck me, those eyelashes really were amazing. "You look really pretty tonight," he said.

The breath caught in my throat, and all I could do was blink owlishly at him because surely I'd misheard. There was no way that Darius Keller, most beautiful man on the planet, had just called me pretty.

It had to be the gin and the weed talking.

That had to be true of me, too, because I opened my mouth to thank him, but instead what came out was, "You always look pretty."

Immediately I wanted to take it back. What guy wants a girl to call him pretty? But Darius just smiled, slow and confident, and my stomach fluttered.

"Anyway, good night," I blurted.

I turned around too fast, trying to get away before I said something else I'd regret, and my foot caught on the leg of the padded seat. I stumbled, almost losing my balance, and hopefully it was because the weed and gin had gone to my head, and not because I was a total klutz.

A pair of strong arms caught me around the waist, steadying me.

"Easy there," Darius said, sounding amused.

I couldn't respond. I could barely breathe. I was acutely aware that my gorgeous little playsuit left a lot of skin on display, and that skin was now pressed up against Darius, his arms around my stomach, my back against his chest. His breath stirred my hair.

I should have pulled away.

I didn't.

Slowly, I turned, still in his arms, and tipped back my head to look at him. With his face cast in moonlight and shadow, his cheekbones looked more defined than ever, like they'd been sculpted with the sharpest knife. His eyelashes were like feathers.

Darius's gaze dipped to my lips.

Time seemed to slow down.

My heart almost stopped beating as he leaned in, and my lips parted on a small gasp because I couldn't believe this was actually happening.

Darius kissed me, and it was a soft, slow, tender thing that stole what little breath I had left, and made my knees tremble. His lips were sweet with cherry gin, his tongue even sweeter as it gently slid against mine, and holy hell, that felt good.

Mike had never kissed me like this.

No one had.

Darius rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my mouth. "Thank you for tonight," he murmured.

"For calling you?"

"Just for being here."

His words warmed me as much as his kiss had.

God, I wanted more.

But Darius was stepping away, his face settling into neutral lines. "You remember where your room is?" he said.

I nodded, hoping my disappointment didn't show. He was still calling it my room, but it was clear there would be no more kisses, at least not tonight.

"I, uh, guess I'll see you in the morning?" I said, scratching the ragged skin at the edge of my thumbnail.

Darius was already walking away, the bottle of gin dangling loosely from one hand. "See you tomorrow, Nola," he called back.

I watched him walk inside, then I slumped back into my seat, breathing heavily as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

One thing I was absolutely sure of – everything had just changed.

Darius

Fuck.

I shouldn't have kissed her.

What the hell was I thinking?

At least I'd managed to keep it brief, restrained – on the surface anyway.

Inside, I was about to fucking boil over.

I'd always noticed that Nola was pretty, but kissing her tonight had flipped a switch I wasn't sure I could undo.

All I could think about was the soft warmth of her mouth beneath mine, the feel of her small body pressing against me, the tempting shadow of her cleavage in that fucking tiny bit of velvet.

What would have happened if I hadn't walked away?

Would she have let me take things further?

Fuuuuck, that wasn't helping.

Now all I could think about was how it would feel to slowly peel that velvet off her, what she'd look like naked, how her lips would feel stretched around my cock. Until this moment, I hadn't realised just how badly I wanted to fuck this woman.

How would I have done it?

Right there on the patio seats? Nola sitting on top of me, riding me, her tits in my face? Or maybe on the kitchen table, Nola on her back, her legs wrapped around my waist, her whole body jolting as I thrust into her?

Jesus, I was hard. My cock strained against my jeans, and I almost stumbled going up the stairs. I needed to get to my room, right fucking now.

I wasn't drunk, but I almost felt it as I lurched down the hallway. Finally I reached my room, and almost threw myself inside. My bed beckoned to me, the soothing greys and whites that made up most of my house, but it looked a fucking mile away. I couldn't make it.

I sagged against the door, my fingers fumbling over my jeans, undoing the top button and yanking down the zip. A groan of relief slipped through my lips as I shoved my jeans and boxers down my thighs, just enough to free my cock. I wrapped my hand around it, closing my eyes.

Nola on her hands and knees, her ass pointed upwards, her hair wrapped around my hand as I fucked her from behind.

Nola panting my name, her pussy clenching around me.

I jerked myself off, my hand a blur, the breath hitching in my throat, almost gasping from how good it felt.

Nola stretched out beneath me, my hand pinning her wrists over her head.

Nola on her knees, sucking my cock, those big eyes looking up at me.

Fuck.

My hand grew slick with pre-come, my breaths coming faster, as pure fucking sensation roared through me. Close . . . I was so close . . .

I came with a harsh groan, spilling across my own hand, my head hitting the door behind me with a soft thunk. Aftershocks shuddered through me, and I continued to slide my hand up and down my cock, slippery-wet, so sensitive that my thighs twitched.

I stayed there for a few minutes, resting against the door, my breaths gradually slowing, my cock still in my hand. Fuck me, I hadn't come that hard in a while.

I peeled myself off the door and stumbled across the room, my jeans still around my thighs, until I reached the bed. I should really go to the bathroom and clean up, but I couldn't seem to move. That explosive orgasm had sucked the strength out of me.

With any luck, it would also have sucked out the lust, and I wouldn't fantasise about Nola Collins anymore.

Fingers fucking crossed.