9. Cora
cora
. . .
“Tell me I’m not out of my mind.”
“Are you kidding? Ronan Christian just invited you to his house.”
“Yes, Emma. I told you that, remember?”
I hold up another outfit in front of me and look in the mirror. One good thing about living in the studio is having an enormous mirror to check myself out as I decide what to wear.
“It’s no big deal, right?” I ask.
“Is that a rhetorical question, Cora? How many outfits have you tried?” she asks in the knowing elder sister tone.
“None. What are you even talking about?” I toss the pant suit aside and walk away from the suitcase that holds my clothes. Emma makes a noise like she knows I’m lying.
Am I crazy? Yeah, we’ve had good banter, and we shared that one, incredibly hot, panty soaking kiss. He wasn’t unaffected, but he didn’t act on it. That was what intrigued me more. A few more of those kisses and I might have stripped him naked and rode him like a motorcycle. No hesitation.
In a way, I’m glad he stopped it. It doesn’t do to throw yourself at a rock star. So, I did what I thought he would like, what he wouldn’t expect. Every time I think of him opening that package, I smile.
It took me a long time to come up with ten songs. They all mean a lot to me. It wasn’t until I was doing it I realized Ronan is reminding me of some of my happiest memories. There are one or two that make me sad, but they’re all a part of who I am.
“Maybe it turns out to be one of those things, you know. Something you can think back on when you’re older. The date with a rock star. Or maybe it becomes something more.”
“Let’s not get carried away.”
“Maybe, it’s a polka dot night?”
There is a dress hanging up on one of the studio lights, which I keep being drawn to.
It’s a black polka dot dress that wraps around and ties at the waist. The neckline is a little low, and the hem line a little high.
My fingers trail over the fabric. I’ve had this dress for years, and it’s always made me feel good when I wear it.
How Emma knew I was staring at this is no surprise. My sister knows every side of me.
“Live a little, don’t be so closed off, from what I saw he’s a nice guy. Diego vouched for him too.”
“Yeah? Maybe he has to, it’s his family.”
“Cora, I wouldn’t let you date certain members of my family,” Diego calls out in the background. “But Ronan, he’s one of the good ones.”
Okay then. After a few more words of encouragement, I thank Emma, take a shower, and slip on my polka dot dress.
Ronan’s house is by the beach and has controlled gates and an impenetrable wall. Another reminder he’s different from the guys I’ve dated in the past.
The gates rumble before I even figure out how to let Ronan know I’ve arrived.
I roll the car inside and they close behind me.
The house in front of me is impressive, but I put my game face on because Ronan is stepping out of the front door.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a T-shirt that hugs his chest and arms, and he’s barefoot.
Why is that sexy?
I still my fluttering heart and clench my thighs to get that part of me under control too, then climb out of the car. His movements are so fluid and casual and make me want to do things to him.
I’m not that easy, I’m not that easy , I chant in my head. I will not do something stupid. But I may do something fun…
“Hi,” he says, his voice a deep, sexy rumble. He sweeps a look over my dress but comes back to my eyes. He can’t hide the interest in his gaze, yet he’s a gentleman.
He’s handling this better than me. My tongue is about six sizes too big for my mouth. Perhaps Ronan can help me out by sucking it?
“You hungry?” he asks.
“Yeah, for sure.”
He steps back to let me go ahead of him. His hand on my lower back is scorching. We head inside and he shows me around, eventually leading me out onto a terrace at the back of the house that looks over the beach. The sound of the ocean is soothing, and the sun is just going down.
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is.”
I glance over my shoulder. Ronan is leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, staring straight at me, not the sunset.
“You said something about food?” I say with great restraint.
“I’ve been warming the grill. Do you like steak? Or I have roasted vegetables if meat isn’t your thing.”
Oh, the innuendo. My voice is deeper when I respond. “Steak is fine.”
“Great.” He pushes off the wall and heads to the outdoor kitchen.
It’s impressive as hell. I take a seat on the comfortable sofa close to him. He offers beer or wine. I take the wine, smiling at the memory of him hating champagne at Franny’s wedding as he grabs a beer.
We talk as he cooks, about how things are going with the new album and Caden taking over vocals. It’s clear how much he loves Velvet Echo. When he isn’t busy cooking, he’s tapping on surfaces with his fingertips, or the utensils. I wonder if he knows he does it.
One thing he doesn’t mention is Christopher. Even though I’m dying to ask, it’s a painful topic. Marissa told me before the photoshoot he was not to be discussed.
“Tell me about your tattoo? ”
“Huh?” I look up from his hands, which I’d been staring at.
“Your tattoo.” He lifts a brow.
“Oh, that.”
“Why does it sound like there is a story there?” He flips the steak, and the sizzle and smoke make him lean back a little.
“No story. I had a shitty tattoo done when I was sixteen and wanted to cover it up.”
“Sixteen?” He frowns. “Who tattooed you when you were sixteen?”
“He was training, and he did it for free.”
“Guess that’s why you needed it covered up.”
“Yeah. And before you ask, no, I will never show you what it looked like before. I made sure there was no evidence of that hideous thing left anywhere in existence.”
“You won’t even give me a hint? My mind will just make stuff up if you don’t.”
I shift on the couch and get up, walking closer to the grill so I can top up my wine. Ronan watches me in silence. “And what are you imagining?” I ask, setting down the bottle and lifting the glass to my lips.
“A giant dick.”
I almost spit out my drink.
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But that lame ass attempt to get me to tell you didn’t work.”
“Was worth a shot.” He steps back and grabs some plates and pulls a salad out of the fridge. “So, the dragon, does it mean something?”
“They mean power, strength, and wisdom. I’ve got two out of the three. The peonies, they’re Mom’s favorite, and I thought a snake was too cliché. I wanted it to be different but not ugly.”
“Snake tattoos can be cool.”
“Dragons are cooler.”
“Can’t argue with that. What are the qualities of a dragon you have, Cora?”
“Power and strength.” I take another sip as he finishes with the food. “Wisdom, not so much.”
“We’re all learning as we go.”
“That’s deep.”
“As is your tattoo. Shall we eat?”
He makes me smile. Emma and Diego are right, there is more than meets the eye to Ronan Christian. In fact, I think he is a secret cinnamon roll with a healthy inquisitiveness. I usually go for closed off, emotionally deficient assholes. Hence why I have no wisdom.
We sit down to eat. It’s really good. Which I tell him.
“You could cook like this too if you had a kitchen.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“It can’t be good for you living there.”
“It’s fine. And I have a lead on a place anyway so there is no point discussing this.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” I’m not lying. A friend is spending the summer in Europe and said I could sub-let her place. Bonus that it’s in Venice. “And I could have a gourmet kitchen and still burn water.”
He laughs. Topic changed. I like that he listens. We finish the meal, chatting about family, and he tells me Brandon and Franny just got back from their honeymoon.
“You’re never going to think of her as anything else now, are you?”
“I have you to thank for that.” He grabs us more drinks and suggests we move inside as it’s getting chilly. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to slip up every time I see her.”
“That’s a shame.” I pout.
“Yeah, right.”
He leads me into a spacious sitting room. It’s homey, comfortable, nothing like I would have expected from a rock star. There is a lot of music related artwork and a giant portrait of Jon Bonham from Led Zeppelin sitting behind his drum kit.
“Okay, so don’t get too excited. I know you’ve been dying for this since the moment you met me.”
What is he talking about? I turn around to him holding up his Walkman. Part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but in all honesty, he’s right. I’ve never seen one in real life. And this is such an integral part of who Ronan is. It feels like he is showing me something deeply personal.
“And here.” He opens the lid on the coffee table to reveal an entertainment system. It’s far more modern, but to the side there is a stack of cassette boxes. He takes one out and closes the lid. When he hands it to me, I set the wine down and turn it over .
“Rock legends,” I read the scrawled blue handwriting on the cassette. “This isn’t my tape?”
“Your tape?” He cocks his head.
“You know what I mean.” I reach out and take the Walkman. He sucks in a breath, and I pause. “What?”
“It’s just…no one ever touches my Walkman.”
“Do you want me to set it down?”
“You shouldn’t make fun of a man’s precious belongings you know. Would you like me feeling up your cameras?”
“Interesting choice of words,” I say, caressing the wire on the headset between my fingertips.
Ronan tips his head back and lets out a groan. I laugh and figure out how to open the Walkman and insert the tape.
He watches me slip on the headset and press play.
He’s right, it sounds fine, like a digital recording, not tinny like I expected.
I figure out how to clip the back of the Walkman to the belt on my dress and take a few steps away, turning my back to him.
‘Walking After You’ by Foo Fighters is playing.
I adore this song . The dark romance of it, the desperate longing, and the melancholy vocals.
It’s gotten darker outside and I can see our reflection in the large window beside the John Bonham portrait. My body sways to the slow beat of the music. Ronan is staring at me. Not my ass.
Just me.
When I turn to face him, his hands clench into fists, and his chest rises and falls on a shaky breath. It makes me stop in my tracks. The coffee table is between us, but I imagine I can feel every breath that leaves those luscious lips of his.
I won’t lie, I’ve re-lived our make out session many times.
He moves around the coffee table without a word and walks toward me.
Now it’s my turn to hold my breath. With my hips swaying, I turn away from him, trying to gather myself.
It doesn’t stop him advancing, and I watch his reflection in the window.
Ronan stops behind me. I can feel the heat from his body, even though he’s not touching me. His hand slips around my waist and he lifts the Walkman from my belt. Part of me wonders if he is treating that with kid gloves, or it’s me causing him to move so reverently.
When he slides the headphones from my ears, it feels like he’s stripping away a piece of me. The room is strangely silent without the music in my ears. Ronan sets the Walkman down and presses something on the entertainment system. The music transfers to the speakers.
That is some impressive technology. I need to figure out how to do that. I’d need to get a Walkman first. And a super expensive entertainment system.
Ronan’s hands land on my hips, making me jolt out of my musings. He steps closer, and he moves his hips side to side, the motion and his hands on my hips make me move with him.
I can’t help leaning back into him. His hands grip me a little tighter. He’s firm and strong and his cologne smells like heaven .
There is a choice to be made here. Be the sensible one and step away. Or…
Ronan slides one hand up my arm and brushes my hair back off my shoulder. It’s almost natural how my head tips onto his shoulder to make it easier for him. My eyes sweep closed as he runs his nose up the side of my neck until his face is buried in my hair.
“I’ve wanted to touch you from the first moment I saw you,” he breathes out against my ear before nipping my earlobe. “After your studio I’ve thought of nothing else.”
My stomach swoops and lifts all at once. I feel lightheaded and hot.
His voice, oh Jesus. The whisper of his breath on my skin sends tingles all the way down my spine and straight between my legs.
Stepping away from him leaves my mind, I can think of nothing dumber right now. Not just because of who he is.
I feel the same. From the moment we sat down to talk at Franny’s wedding, I’ve wanted this. I won’t lie, even seeing him in a dress got me hot.
It’s shocking to realize this is more than the physical. It’s him. The person he is. He understands me. The way we talk, the banter, the push and pull. The comfort I feel around him. I haven’t met my match in Ronan, but he isn’t scared by how forthright I am. How nothing is off limits for me.
A lot of men have run from me in the past and it’s left me harder, more impenetrable. Will Ronan be the one to change that?
His lips touch my neck more firmly, bringing me out of my head and back to the moment. My hands find his and I lace our fingers. He lets out a small groan then opens his mouth, sucking my skin, all the while he is still moving us in time to the music.
It’s sultry, it’s sexy, it’s getting me hot and wet. There is a deep throbbing beat between my thighs, my pulse is spiking and my breath going shallow.
“Fuck, Cora.” He moves back and spins me around so we’re chest to chest. His is rising and falling and his pupils are blown out as he looks at me. “This dress,” he groans, using his fingers to tease the tie at my waist.
I’m barely holding on here. It’s wrong to throw yourself at the hot rock star, right? I track the movement as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth. It’s my turn to groan.
I know what it feels like to kiss him. I want more.
A burning hot fire scorches up inside of me, lust, arousal, need.
Surging up, I press my mouth against his and Ronan doesn’t disappoint. He wraps one arm around my waist, tugging me tight against him, and parts his lips, drawing me in, tasting me, turning my blood molten.