Tempting the rockstar, p.1
Tempting the Rockstar, page 1
Tempting the Rockstar
Keren Hughes
ISBN 978-1-914301-26-1
Published 2022
Published by Black Velvet Seductions Publishing at Smashwords
Tempting the Rockstar Copyright 2022 Keren Hughes
Cover design Copyright 2022 Jessica Greeley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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All characters in this book are completely fictional. They exist only in the imagination of the author. Any similarity to any actual person or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Prologue
Culhwch
I close my eyes. One long, slow blink. Hoping, praying that my eyes are deceiving me and that when I open them, he will be gone.
Opening my eyes slowly shatters that illusion. He is still sat there, holding court like he always did. His trademark shit-eating grin is in residence on his painfully handsome face. Handsome? Did I really think that? He’s a douchebag and I’m glad to be free of him. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t admit that he is indeed too handsome for his own good. Not out loud, but I can admit it to myself.
He looks my way, and I’ve never been gladder than I am now to have a glass full of amber liquid to wash away my nerves.
Nerves? Why am I nervous? He’s the asshole that tore us apart. I shouldn’t have a damn thing to feel nervous about. But try telling that to my fast-beating heart or my hands that tremble as I wring them in my lap.
I watch as his eyes do a double-take and land back on me. They flare with curiosity, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I see lust in those green orbs. But that can’t be right. Not a chance. I wasn’t good enough for him then—why should that have changed?
I’ve bulked up since we ended. Figured hitting the gym would eventually work out my frustration, when, in fact, all it did was help build muscles in places I didn’t know existed before.
No, before, I was geeky. I wore thick-rimmed glasses, dressed for comfort instead of style, as opposed to him. He always dressed for style, but then I can understand not wanting to go on stage in front of his adoring fans wearing jogging bottoms or geeky TV/film quote T-shirts. Which always made me wonder why he chose to date me.
I was shy, he was confident—except for when it came to coming out of the closet, which is something I’d done long before. But he still hadn’t. He held court with men and women alike. The men wanted to be him; the women wanted to be with him. Not that I could have blamed them. He’d walk into a room and a sudden hush would descend. Everyone was hyperaware of him. I was hyperaware of him.
Nobody even knows we dated, which is sad. It’s one of the main reasons we couldn’t be more than what we were. I was his dirty little secret, tucked in the back of the closet.
We met because my best friend married his brother Alex, and that meant Sophia and I got to hang out backstage with The Descendants anytime they did a gig close to home. One night, Houston had a few too many to drink and pulled me into a dark corner of the room, then his tongue was down my throat before I could ask what the hell was going on. He was straight. He should have been hooking up with groupies or whatever famous rockstars do. Instead, he was in a deep, dark corner of the room with his tongue down my throat and his evident erection brushing against me.
What the world at large or the die-hard fans would have thought of that, I didn’t know. But it didn’t take long for me to find out. And while I got off on the thrill of us being a secret at first, I soon learned that I would never be more than just his dirty little secret. It took me three years to finally stand up for myself and break it off, but I got there in the end.
It hurt like a motherfucker to let go of him, but it didn’t hurt as much as having a three-year relationship with a man I was head over heels in love with and having to keep it in the shadows. In public, we could be friends, but I could never hold his hand, never lean over and kiss him, never tell him I loved him, never go on real dates. No, we always had to be surrounded by other people so as to avoid temptation, and the times we were alone together were always behind closed doors.
We had “date nights”, but they were always in the house, a film on the telly, cooking for each other… they were never real dates.
I knew he wasn’t comfortable telling other people about his sexuality. But I loved him regardless. I held out what turned out to be false hope, that one day, we would be out and proud. But the timing was never right, or the fans wouldn’t understand, his bandmates wouldn’t understand, he could lose his job… and in the end, that job was worth more to him than a man who loved him with all his heart and soul.
But I digress. My inner turmoil is warring with long-lost lust rearing its ugly head and contempt. Contempt for the fact that he reassured me he’d never break my heart—complete with promises that he would one day come clean with everyone about his sexuality—then obliterated it in one fell swoop. He was the one. The one. He was the love of my life. I never had a reason to believe we’d fall apart. I thought that I could convince him to step out into the light. I never made light of his feelings, but I always tried to convince him that his fans, family and friends would all accept the real him, if only he took the chance to tell them. We were so good together. Yes, okay, we had to keep our love a secret, but I was willing to do whatever it took to be with this man. To me, he wasn’t Houston Wainwright, lead singer of The Descendants. To me, he was my soulmate.
From the way his mesmerising eyes looked at me with such love, passion, lust. The way he let me into his deepest secrets and trusted me to never breathe a word… and I never did. Not even after we split. I am still the keeper of his secrets. Not that I haven’t wondered what it would be like to tell everyone he knows every sordid little detail. Tempted? I admit, I was. But I never actually did it. I’m many things, but to betray someone’s trust like that? That’s not my style. If anyone is going to find out all the things he’d rather they didn’t know, then I won’t be the one to tell them. Not even after the way he annihilated my heart.
Those eyes still linger on me, and I swear that if I didn’t know better, I’d mistake those half-mast eyelids and the way he licks his bottom lip for hunger. But know better I do.
Houston and I dated for long enough for me to know all his tells, and those are usually two of them. But they can’t be right now.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before opening them again. And just like that, I see him holding court once more. Any trace of what I thought I saw was gone.
My heart stutters in my chest, and for the life of me, I don’t know why. I can’t pin down the way it made me feel as his gaze penetrated mine.
Was it indignance? Disbelief? Hurt? All the aforementioned? Or was it like the soft fluttering of a butterfly’s wings? No, if anything, it felt more like the ceaseless fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.
I turn on my stool and face the bar once more. The bartender walks over and pours me another whiskey. Not the cheap stuff either. I like the burn of the alcohol as much as the next person, but the cheaper the whiskey, the more akin to bleach being poured down my throat it feels.
Enjoying the warmth as it flows down my throat and feels like it ends in my fingertips, I take a moment to relish the feeling.
Houston did a lot of things for me, I’ll admit, much as I am loathed to. Turning me onto drinking something better than a bottle of Jack, that’s one thing I thank him for.
A raucous burst of laughter fills the air and I incline my head slightly to the left, watching as the whole table around him laughs. Nothing new there. He was always amusing. Even when he wasn’t trying to be.
I straighten up and finish my drink, about to pay my tab and leave, until I feel a presence beside me.
I know without looking that it’s him. The scent of his aftershave permeates the air and invades my senses.
My body is automatically put on high alert. Like I said, I was always hyperaware of his presence, and it seems now is no different.
“Culhwch, is it really you?” his sinfully sexy, gravelly voice asks.
“Houston,” I reply.
“Oh my god, it really is. I thought my eyes deceived me from where I was sat.”
I can’t help but turn to look at him.
His muscular physique takes up the space in between me and the next person at the bar, probably invading their space as much as mine.
It’s fucking ridiculous that all the hairs on my arms stand on end, along with the hair at the nape of my neck.
“What an unexpected pleasure,” he says as he looks me over.
He’s definitely checking me out this time. Most likely appraising my new physique and wondering where the skinny little computer geek ex of his resides.
Well, I’m still here. I’m just… different now. I can probably thank training for my new job as a firefighter for the changes to my physique, just as much as I can thank hitting the gym after he left.
“What can I do for
“I just… well, I was sat with some friends and thought I saw you, but I couldn’t be sure. So I volunteered to come to the bar for this round.”
Why is it my heart skips a beat as he smiles a megawatt grin at me? My heart betrays me. Let’s hope my mouth doesn’t.
“Well, it was good seeing you, Houston, but I should get going.”
I get down from the stool a little too forcefully and it falls behind me… but Houston catches it and rights it in one swift move. Damn him for flexing his muscles and standing closer to me. I want to push right past him, but don’t want to appear rude.
“Don’t go, Culhwch. Please. Stay for one more, with me. Just us.” His voice is almost pleading, but that doesn’t fit with the asshole I remember him being. Why would he plead with me?
When we ended, my friends all rallied around me. They didn’t know who I’d been dating, because I wouldn’t betray his trust, but they knew it had to be someone special for me to keep it to myself for three long years. When we split, they assumed it must have been infidelity on his part. But although Houston might have been a lot of things, unfaithful was one I couldn’t imagine.
I mean, sure, other people looked at him like they wanted to devour him, but he saved those looks for me. He only had eyes for one man. Even when I didn’t know why he chose me, he still did. He had plenty of groupies throwing themselves at him, but he stayed true to me. That’s something I never questioned for one moment.
“I–I c–can’t.”
Damn my voice for being the second thing to betray me tonight. I blame it on the alcohol consumption.
“Please?” he asks, sounding almost hurt. “I won’t bite, I promise.”
That’s a shame. Goddamn my stupid alcohol-addled brain for being the third thing to betray me in as many minutes.
If he truly thinks I’ll stay for a drink, alone, with him… pfft! He has another think coming.
“Sorry Houston, maybe some other time,” I reply as I grab my jacket from the stool and sling it over my shoulder.
“That’s a lie,” he says as he looks me straight in the eye.
“Probably,” I say with a shrug.
My heart wants me to stay. My head wants me to have already run a million miles away.
“Culhwch, please? For old time’s sake?”
“Old times?” I ask, incredulity dripping from my tone, “Which ones would those be?”
“The times when you used to want to stay, where you never wanted to leave my side, nor I yours. The times when we’d stay up talking until three in the morning, even though you had work the next day…” he trails off quietly.
“Ah, I see. You’re referring to the times when we were together.” I whisper so as not to be overheard. “Not where you took a spectacular dump all over my life from a great height.”
As I look around, I realise I may have said that a little too loudly. I’ve never been one to air my dirty laundry in public and I’m not about to start now, so I start to walk away.
A strong hand grips my bicep, turning me back towards him. I could put up a fight. I could push him off. But that would make us a spectacle and I’m not in the mood for being stared at. I also don’t want to “out” him in public. I know he still keeps that part of his life a secret, and I’m not going to be the one to let the cat out of the bag.
“Culhwch,” he pleads quietly. “Please? Look, I know I hurt you but—”
“Hurt me? Are you fucking stupid? You annihilated my heart. Completely eviscerated me. You stayed hidden in the closet after promising me that you wouldn’t. How do you think that made me feel? Hurt is a goddamn understatement of spectacular proportion,” I seethe as quietly as possible.
“Okay,” he says, removing his hand from my arm—probably the safest and smartest move he’s made—and holding his hands up to placate me. “I fully deserved that.”
“Oh, you think?”
My derisive snort isn’t attractive, but hey.
Houston’s face tinges pink, and I wonder if it’s through embarrassment at what he did to me or just the rather public discussion we’re having about something he’d rather remain a secret. Lord, I hope nobody heard us.
A hand slides into mine and I look down at where my fingers automatically entwine with his. I only have a moment to assess my stupidity—and his for taking my hand in public—as he gently tugs me towards a quiet corner booth.
My heart thrums in my chest, my body reacts to his proximity and I follow him, even when I know in my head that it’s the wrong decision.
He throws one hand up at the bartender, holding two fingers up. Moments later, we’re sitting in the booth and two large glasses of whiskey are placed in front of us. He must be a regular here for them to know without asking what his poison is.
“What do you want, Houston?” I ask warily.
I swear I hear him mutter “You” quietly, but that must be my own wishful thinking. No, not wishful thinking, I’m over him. I’ve had two years to get over the heartbreak he left in his wake. I’m over being Houston Wainwright’s ex. Aren’t I?
“To talk.”
“About?”
I wring my hands in my lap before placing them on the table to stop myself. Fingering my glass, I slowly look up to meet his gaze. I swear it penetrates my soul, but that’s a momentary lapse on my part. There’s no way he’ll break through my walls, not after what he did.
“I owe you an apology.”
He looks contrite, but I laugh derisively in his face anyway.
“You think?”
“Look, Culhwch, I know that you have every reason under the sun to hate me right now. I really don’t blame you. I know I was an asshole of epic proportion. But in my defence—”
“Defence? You have a defence?” I seethe as I reach for my glass.
“Not really. I should have worded that better… I don’t have a better way of phrasing it though. What I was going to say was, I was young and stupid. I was under a lot of pressure with my job, my family… a family who wanted me to settle down, get married, give them babies to coo over. And I wanted that too. I wanted it with you. But… well… I chickened out at the last moment. You know how people would have reacted if I’d admitted to being gay.”
“I do, but you promised me that you would. I lived a lie for three years, never able to tell my friends and family who I was dating because I had to keep your secret. A secret I was only too happy to keep in the beginning. But do you know how it felt to me after three years of being your filthy little secret? Do you have any idea how it felt? It felt like I was back in the closet again.”
“For that, I am truly sorry. You’ll never know how sorry. But you have to understand where I was coming from, Cul. I had a reputation to protect. An act to put on. I couldn’t just up and announce my relationship with you publicly, I would probably have been lynched by fans.”
I feel my blood boil at that callous statement. I almost get to my feet, but he places a warm hand over mine and his eyes implore me to stay. My treacherous heart gives in and I sit back in the booth, extricating my hand from his.
Closing my eyes and counting to ten, I make a wish to be anywhere but here. Maybe this is just some weird dream, conjured up in my mind because I’ve seen him all over the news recently.
“I loved you, Culhwch. That’s something you must know to be true. I just… I don’t know… maybe it was short-sighted of me to think that you’d be okay with us being a secret. Like I say, my reputation would have taken a hit. Do you really think that fans would have been open and accepting to the fact that I’m gay?”
“You never gave them a chance to find out, did you?! You just assumed. You know something, Houston? I believe that if you’d been honest, you would have been just fine. If your fans were really your fans, they wouldn’t have turned away from you or the music because of your sexuality.”
“I know I should have said something, but the truth is, the longer I kept it to myself, the harder it got to put it right.”
“Then you should have said something sooner rather than later… or in your case, never.”
