Read Online Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction #2) by Olivia Thorne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Olivia Thorne
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humorously. “Casey, Mara – you go with Ryan. Kaitlyn… you come with me.”
“What?” Mara asked, crestfallen. “Why can’t we come with you, too?”
“I’ll be along in awhile. But we have to go do an interview.”
“Oh,” Mara said. She shot me an angry look, then followed her brother and her sister backstage.
An interview! The first one with him, one-on-one, just him and me alone.
I didn’t realize it was going to be in a shower, though.
15
We walked down the concrete hallway, sandwiched between two heavy-set security guards, one in front, one in back. As we went, people – stadium employees? Music label people? Band crew? – shouted and smiled their hellos at Derek, with an occasional high five or fist bump on the way. Most of them were men – and most of them took one look at me and then gave Derek a knowing little smirk.
I could tell what they were thinking, and it bothered me.
Not so much that they thought we were going someplace to have sex (although their leering was pretty disgusting)… but that he’d probably done something like this with other girls. Enough of them that it was what everybody expected.
We finally reached a locker room. Derek led the way inside. One guard came in and checked every nook and cranny for stalkers, then went back out to join his partner guarding the door.
I looked around. It was the locker room for the LA Lakers – their purple and yellow colors were everywhere, and I saw some famous last names on the tiny placards adorning the burnished wood lockers. There was a pleasant, minty tang to the air, like sports liniment.
On a nearby bench sat a small pile of plush towels, a pair of designer jeans, sunglasses identical to the ones Derek was wearing, a high-end t-shirt, black boxers, socks, bad-ass black boots, a pair of shower flip-flops, and a bag of toiletries.
I looked down in shock. “Um… what’s this?”
Derek grinned as he pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on the bench next to the change of clothes. “You don’t expect me to go meet all my adoring fans looking like this, do you?”
Then he lifted his hands up and peeled his sweat-soaked shirt up over his head, just like he had on our night together four years ago.
I froze and watched the wet cloth slide over his bulging muscles, his perfect olive skin, the intricate design of tattoos across his chest.
Jesus.
He was even hotter than I remembered.
He’d gained a little muscle mass over the years. His abs stood out in relief from the rest of his body, and as he turned and threw the t-shirt down, his back flexed like a model’s in a Bowflex commercial.
Unh.
He kicked off his boots (Mark Nason, my favorite for guys), peeled off his socks, unbuckled his belt –
“You’re taking a shower?!” I asked, my panic rising just as fast as my arousal level.
“I get the Lakers locker room – I always have that in the contract. Ryan gets the Clippers, Killian gets the Kings, and Riley gets the women’s. If she actually uses it.”
The pants came off at the same time his boxers did.
Oh my GOD.
He was standing there, five feet away, completely naked, beads of sweat dripping down his perfect body –
I tried not to look, I tried, but I couldn’t help myself: I glanced down at his cock.
UNH.
I’d only seen it by candlelight four years ago. In the bright light of the locker room, I was struck by how big it was, even when soft. Thick and full and heavy, swaying between his legs as he moved. Perfect and hot, framed by a thatch of dark curls, slick and damp from his sweat.
FUCK I wanted to touch it so bad. Like I had four years ago.
Instead I darted my eyes up at his face and tried, tried so hard, not to look down below.
But it loomed quite large in my peripheral vision, that’s for damn sure.
He smirked at me – probably because I was blushing furiously.
“Relax… you’ve seen me naked before.”
“Not in quite this much light.”
He broke into a full-on grin. “That is
“What?” Mara asked, crestfallen. “Why can’t we come with you, too?”
“I’ll be along in awhile. But we have to go do an interview.”
“Oh,” Mara said. She shot me an angry look, then followed her brother and her sister backstage.
An interview! The first one with him, one-on-one, just him and me alone.
I didn’t realize it was going to be in a shower, though.
15
We walked down the concrete hallway, sandwiched between two heavy-set security guards, one in front, one in back. As we went, people – stadium employees? Music label people? Band crew? – shouted and smiled their hellos at Derek, with an occasional high five or fist bump on the way. Most of them were men – and most of them took one look at me and then gave Derek a knowing little smirk.
I could tell what they were thinking, and it bothered me.
Not so much that they thought we were going someplace to have sex (although their leering was pretty disgusting)… but that he’d probably done something like this with other girls. Enough of them that it was what everybody expected.
We finally reached a locker room. Derek led the way inside. One guard came in and checked every nook and cranny for stalkers, then went back out to join his partner guarding the door.
I looked around. It was the locker room for the LA Lakers – their purple and yellow colors were everywhere, and I saw some famous last names on the tiny placards adorning the burnished wood lockers. There was a pleasant, minty tang to the air, like sports liniment.
On a nearby bench sat a small pile of plush towels, a pair of designer jeans, sunglasses identical to the ones Derek was wearing, a high-end t-shirt, black boxers, socks, bad-ass black boots, a pair of shower flip-flops, and a bag of toiletries.
I looked down in shock. “Um… what’s this?”
Derek grinned as he pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on the bench next to the change of clothes. “You don’t expect me to go meet all my adoring fans looking like this, do you?”
Then he lifted his hands up and peeled his sweat-soaked shirt up over his head, just like he had on our night together four years ago.
I froze and watched the wet cloth slide over his bulging muscles, his perfect olive skin, the intricate design of tattoos across his chest.
Jesus.
He was even hotter than I remembered.
He’d gained a little muscle mass over the years. His abs stood out in relief from the rest of his body, and as he turned and threw the t-shirt down, his back flexed like a model’s in a Bowflex commercial.
Unh.
He kicked off his boots (Mark Nason, my favorite for guys), peeled off his socks, unbuckled his belt –
“You’re taking a shower?!” I asked, my panic rising just as fast as my arousal level.
“I get the Lakers locker room – I always have that in the contract. Ryan gets the Clippers, Killian gets the Kings, and Riley gets the women’s. If she actually uses it.”
The pants came off at the same time his boxers did.
Oh my GOD.
He was standing there, five feet away, completely naked, beads of sweat dripping down his perfect body –
I tried not to look, I tried, but I couldn’t help myself: I glanced down at his cock.
UNH.
I’d only seen it by candlelight four years ago. In the bright light of the locker room, I was struck by how big it was, even when soft. Thick and full and heavy, swaying between his legs as he moved. Perfect and hot, framed by a thatch of dark curls, slick and damp from his sweat.
FUCK I wanted to touch it so bad. Like I had four years ago.
Instead I darted my eyes up at his face and tried, tried so hard, not to look down below.
But it loomed quite large in my peripheral vision, that’s for damn sure.
He smirked at me – probably because I was blushing furiously.
“Relax… you’ve seen me naked before.”
“Not in quite this much light.”
He broke into a full-on grin. “That is
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