Rockstar’s Accidental Marriage (Wild Band Rockstars #2)

31. Thirty-One

Thirty-One

Emily

The house is unusually quiet when I wake up. Stretching, I glance over at Sam’s side of the bed, only to find it empty and cold. My heart sinks a little. He must have left early. Again.

We’ve been missing each other lately, like two ships that pass in the night. I try not to dwell on it as I get ready for the day, focusing instead on the long to-do list waiting for me. I clean up the kitchen, answer emails, and organize a few things for the band’s upcoming events. But the empty house feels lonely, and no amount of chores can distract me from knowing things are still off between us.

I’m on the couch with my laptop by late afternoon, trying to finalize some scheduling details, when someone knocks on the door. I glance at the clock, frowning. I’m not expecting anyone.

Curious, I open the door to find a deliveryman holding a sleek black garment bag and a small envelope.

“For Emily Ryder,” he says, handing them to me with a polite smile before retreating to his van.

I close the door and set the garment bag on the couch, staring at it, wondering what it might be. The envelope has my name scrawled in Sam’s familiar handwriting. My heart flutters as I tear it open.

The note inside is simple but intriguing:

‘Wear this tonight. I’ll pick you up at 7. —Sam’

My fingers brush over the note, and I can't help but smile. Sam has that naughty side, the one that keeps me guessing. Unzipping the garment bag, I gasp. Inside is a breathtaking black dress—in a fabric that shimmers in the light. It’s understated but undeniably sexy, the kind of dress that makes you feel confident and alluring.

My chest tightens with anticipation. Could this be Sam’s way of trying to fix things? Of making up for the tension that’s been hanging over us like a cloud?

I decide not to overthink it. Instead, I head upstairs to start getting ready.

By the time 7 o'clock rolls around, I've pampered myself more than I have in months. My hair is styled in soft waves, my makeup is subtle but flawless, and I spritz on the floral-scented cologne Sam seems to particularly enjoy.

A confident smile plays on my lips as I stand in front of the mirror. The dress hugs my curves in a way that I know Sam will appreciate while subtly concealing my baby bump. It's short, showcasing my shapely legs, and as I turn to admire the back, a grin spreads across my face. It's snug, but I look damn good. A flicker of excitement, a thrill I haven't felt in a while, courses through me, and I shiver with anticipation.

There’s a knock at the door, and my stomach flips. When I open it, Sam is standing there in a dark suit that fits him perfectly, holding a bouquet of red roses. His reddish hair is neatly combed, but there’s still that hint of rebellion in the way it falls over his forehead.

“Wow,” he says, his voice low as his heated gaze rakes over me. “You look... stunning.”

“Thank you for the dress… it’s beautiful,” I reply, my cheeks warming under his gaze.

He grins and hands me the flowers. “For you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, burying my nose in their fragrant scent.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping aside to reveal a sleek black limo waiting at the curb.

I blink in surprise. “Where’s your truck?”

“Not fancy enough for tonight,” he says with a wink, holding out his arm.

We’re both silent during the limo ride. Sam is unusually quiet, his hand resting lightly on my thigh. Just that light touch is enough to start my heart racing, but I’m not ready to cave immediately. I already know how good he is in bed. But this night is about more than just great sex.

When we arrive at the restaurant, a hostess leads us to a private room lit with soft, golden candlelight. The table is set with fine china and crystal glasses, and the faint strains of a string quartet play in the background.

“This is… nice,” I say, glancing around.

“You deserve it,” Sam replies huskily, pulling out my chair for me.

The dinner is perfect—every bite is a symphony of flavors. Sam ordered for both of us, remembering my newfound craving for spicy food. The dishes are exquisite, and the heat is balanced perfectly with sweet and tangy notes. But every time I think Sam will start a serious conversation, he doesn’t. I don’t press him, letting the moment unfold at its own pace.

As we finish a sinfully decadent dessert, he looks at me. Without a word, he stands and offers me his hand. “Dance with me,” he says, his voice low and steady.

I blink at him, caught off guard. “Here?”

“Here,” he replies simply, his lips curving into a small smile. “Just you and me.”

My heart flutters as I place my hand in his. The warmth of his palm sends a shiver of awareness through me. He leads me to an open space near the corner of the private room, where the music feels intimate. His other hand finds the small of my back, guiding me close.

“I want to hold you,” he says quietly, his breath brushing against my temple.

We begin to sway, the melody wrapping around us like a cocoon. My hands instinctively move to his shoulders, and I feel his fingers tighten around my waist. The world outside the restaurant seems to disappear, leaving just the two of us in this quiet, candlelit moment.

“I’m not that good with words, Emily,” Sam whispers to me softly, “I do best communicating with music.” He looks into my eyes. And then I hear it, the song. It’s Ed Sheeran singing Perfect. My heart beats a little faster.

I tilt my head back to look at him, feeling the tension between us ease just a little. His eyes are soft, filled with something that makes my chest ache.

“Emily,” he says, his voice barely audible over the music. “You drive me crazy you know that?”

I smile, my fingers brushing against the back of his neck. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

“Both,” he admits, his lips curving into a playful grin. “But mostly good.”

“Listen, about Bobbi—”

“You don’t have to explain,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t about her. Not really.”

Sam nods, looking relieved, and pulls me closer.

The song ends, and another love song begins. It’s Elvis Presley singing "Can’t Help Falling in Love." Sam looks deep into my eyes as if waiting for a reaction.

“This is a favorite of yours,” he says softly, pulling me closer. I don’t remember telling him that, but I don’t respond. Instead, I rest my cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my skin. I relax, melting into him.

“Sam,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. “What are we doing?”

He exhales, his breath warm against my hair. “Figuring it out,” he says simply. “One step at a time.”

I sigh. Maybe we’re not as broken as I feared. This is us finding our way back to each other. I sway against him, letting the music carry us.

As the Elvis song ends, Sam looks down at me, and the heat in his eyes ignites an answering flame in mine.

As soon as the limo door shuts behind us, Sam pulls me roughly toward him, brushing my lips with his. As the kiss deepens, I press against him urgently, wanting to bridge the gap between us in any way I can.

As I feel his hands boldly caress my back, I glance at him. His green eyes are filled with longing, and in that moment, I forget about my hurt feelings and my doubts. Instead, I’m only aware of the answering ache between my thighs.

Sam pulls me onto his lap. His seeking hand goes beneath my skirt, where he finds me wet and waiting for his touch. Pushing my barely there thong out of his way, he thrust inside me with a blunt finger. Gasping at the sudden intrusion, my eyes flutter closed. Biting my lip to keep from moaning at the sensations he’s arousing, I lean my face into his shoulder.

He continues to expertly pump into me, slipping in a second finger, and an uncontrollable shudder courses through me. Silently, he continues working me until I suddenly shatter and come in his arms.

He holds me until I open my eyes–

“We’re here, Mr. Ryder,” the driver quietly states as he pulls the limo to a stop.

“Thank you,” Sam replies just as quietly, and I marvel at his composure as he opens the door and steps from the car. He deftly pulls an envelope from his jacket and hands it to the driver before he helps me from the vehicle.

When I sneak a peek at his face, though, his features appear tight, as if he’s barely keeping his control. As soon as we’re inside, he has me over the arm of the couch, pulling my dress up around my waist as he moves between my legs. The entire last half hour felt like foreplay, and his urgency matches mine.

I impatiently shift my weight from one foot to the other for him to claim me.

“Sam! Sam, please… hurry,” I mumble as my hair falls forward around my face like a curtain.

Hearing the sound of his zipper is a relief, and my stance goes wider as I arch my back. By now, I’m aching for him to enter me. I need him inside me. I’m strung so tight with wanting that I can hardly bear the wait.

Suddenly, I feel Sam fill me from behind with his hard shaft. Plunging in deep, his hands anchoring me in place. My entire body quivers in response, and I let out a gasp at the depth of his penetration.

I feel him pull out and then forcefully thrust in again. “Em, you look so fucking sexy like this. Watching my cock enter you. It’s such a turn-on. The feel of me as you take me–Damn!”

Not able to answer him or even nod, I push back against him, showing him how much I want this too—meeting his hard thrusts just as urgently. I’m only aware of Sam—of him entering me so fiercely as our breathing grows harsher. It doesn’t take long before my entire body clenches around him. As my orgasm overtakes me, I shout out his name–loudly.

He joins me a split second later with an equally loud, guttural groan. He slumps over my back for a moment, recovering. Then he stands, pulling me up with him. My legs feel weak, and I lean back against his chest, letting him take most of my weight as our breathing slows.

“I hadn’t planned that–it just happened,” he admits roughly, “See what you do to me? I can’t even think straight when you’re around. You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You affect me the same way, Sam,” I admit softly, slowly turning to face him.

“Good to know,” he says gruffly, leaning down to gently brush his lips with mine. Wrapping an arm around me, he leads me to the stairs. “Upstairs. The night’s not over yet. We’ve only just started.”

I shiver at the husky promise in his voice as he leads me to our bed.

It’s a very long night. The next morning, my eyes slowly open to see bright sunlight flooding the room. I look over and see Sam sleeping soundly beside me.

Slipping quietly from our bed, I stand and stretch lazily. With a smile, I lean over and slowly pick up the clothes scattered around the room. As I grab Sam’s jacket, a small black velvet box slips from the inside pocket.

My fingers tremble as I pick up the fallen box, anticipation swirling in my chest. I open it slowly, my breath hitching when I see what’s inside.

It’s a gold wedding band—beautifully crafted but unmistakably designed to look like the bubblegum ring he gave me in Vegas.

For a moment, I’m speechless. I stare at the ring, my emotions tangled in confusion. It’s beautiful, but why did he have it crafted to replicate the cheap plastic ring?

My chest tightens painfully. Is this Sam's way of embracing our past, or is he missing the point that I want to move forward? Start fresh. With possibly a real wedding and meaningful vows–and forget our drunken, accidental marriage. Did he mean this to be funny and make me laugh, or did he somehow think this would be romantic?

Either way, it misses the mark. Seeing this ring–It’s not what I expected. What was his intention? And why didn’t he give it to me last night—before we—I glance at Sam to ensure he’s still sleeping. Confusion and hurt swirl in my chest as I carefully return the box to his jacket.

After gathering some clothes, I tiptoe from the room. My mind is clouded with a mix of emotions. I need time to think. Leaving a hurried note, I exit the beach house and jump in my car. Maybe a drive will clear my head. I don’t get far when my phone buzzes.

It’s the crew manager. I nod as he explains he needs to meet with the crew so they can check out a few pieces of equipment. I state briskly, “Fine. I’ll meet you and your team at the security gate.”

With a grimace, I turn the car toward the studio.