Never Kiss a Rockstar (Never Trust Book 2) Read online

  NEVER KISS A ROCKSTAR

  (The Never Trust Series, Book 2)

  SARAH DARLINGTON

  NEVER KISS A ROCKSTAR

  Copyright © 2019 Sarah Darlington

  Cover Design by Alora Kate

  Editing by Kamaryn Kretz

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and events portrayed in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced throughout this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 3 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 4 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 5 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 6 ~

  ~CHAPTER 7 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 8 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 9 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 10 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 11 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 12 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 13 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 14 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 15 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 16 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 17 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 18 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 19 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 20 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 21 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 22 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 23 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 24 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 25 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 26 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 27 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 28 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 29 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 30 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 31 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 32 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 33 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 34 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 35 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 36 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 37 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 38 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 39 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 40 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 41 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 42 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 43 ~

  ~ EPILOGUE ~

  ~ DANI & JOHN BONUS CHAPTERS ~

  PREORDER: NEVER LOVE A ROCKSTAR

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  ALSO BY SARAH DARLINGTON

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  NEVER KISS A ROCKSTAR Playlist

  To every girl still waiting on her dream guy. Sometimes the guy you least expect—is everything.

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  DANI

  This was how all murder cases started. That was for damn sure. Stranded at a spooky gas station. On a cold November night. With a heavy fog rolling in.

  I was with my three cousins—Luke, Caleb, and Ollie. The only reason I was in North Carolina in the first place was because Caleb had fallen in love, and to help him in pursuit of that love, I’d booked us a giant beach house so he could be in close proximity to this girl. We’d postponed our concert schedule for this little detour in his life. And, right about now, I regretted my decision to be one-hundred percent supportive.

  It was too foggy to drive the twenty-some miles off-road, through the sand back to our isolated rental. So, fan-fucking-tastic, we were all going to stay at some John guy’s house.

  “How much further?” I asked, squished between Ollie and Luke in the backseat of the Hummer we’d rented for this ‘vacation’.

  “About fifty yards,” answered Luce, the woman driving us. “It’s right there.”

  Caleb’s girl was Emma. Luce was Emma’s aunt. They’d come to our rescue and were taking us to this John person’s house.

  Shit. I saw it. The house.

  As the drummer of the world-famous band, Sunset Revival, I was pretty accustomed to the finer things in life. Well, this house was one of those finer things. We’d traveled inland some, and from what I could tell through the dark fog, the massive house sat on a pond of sorts. We crossed a small wooden bridge as Luce drove closer.

  The house was yellow, it had five chimneys, and a dramatically slanted roof. Unlike other houses around here, built on stilts to prevent flooding of the bottom floor to withstand hurricanes, this one didn’t follow the same rules. It sat level with the grass.

  “If it were daylight, you could see the Currituck lighthouse. Right there.” Luce pointed out the car window at nothing but blackness. But then, sure enough, a second later, a light like a beacon blinked through the trees. I guess the lighthouse still worked.

  Luce stopped the Hummer just outside the front doors to this giant house.

  We all piled out of the car. I had an image of John formulating in my mind.

  Preppy. Boat shoes. Polo shirt.

  I’d met his younger sister earlier tonight at the party we’d attended. I couldn’t remember her name, but she’d been blonde—pretty but generic. The type of girl who would have tormented me in high school, but now, since I was a famous rockstar and all, only wished she could be me. So I figured he’d fall in line with her.

  But, holy shit, the John in my head wasn’t the John who opened the door.

  The door to this man’s massive house swung open and on the other side, shirtless, were the most tattoos I’d ever seen on one naked chest. He had more dark ink than white skin. It even went up his neck, to the edges of his jawline. He had short jet-black hair, blue eyes, and more piercings than most girls.

  I squealed in surprise. Like literally some animal noise came out of my mouth.

  John stared at me. Nobody else—me. Embarrassment engulfed me. I hadn’t meant to be rude. His icy blue eyes dared me to say something negative. But on the contrary, I didn’t necessarily hate all his ink. It had only been a shock.

  “Sorry,” I quickly apologized. “I expected some frat-boy type in boat shoes to answer the door. I mean, judging by the exterior of the house.”

  John continued to glare.

  “I’m Dani Mills.” I reached out my hand to shake his. “These are my cousins. Luke, Caleb, and Ollie. Thanks for letting us crash here tonight.”

  John took my hand, his long fingers warm to the touch, but he still stared at me with apprehension, like I was a snake that might bite him.

  “Your house is fucking awesome,” I added, still trying to cover up for being an asshole a moment ago. “Can we come in?”

  “Sure.” John dropped my hand and stepped aside.

  “It’s different than other rentals you see around here.”

  “That’s because it’s about fifty years older. It was one of the first big houses in Corolla. My grandfather designed it himself.”

  A grand staircase that split to the left and right adorned the entrance. The decor had a mid-century modern vibe, which seemed to fit John and his ink.

  “So, my bedroom is on the very top level,” John explained with his arms crossed over the dragon in the middle of his chest. “Don’t go up there. Sydney’s old room is the one with all the black and white artwork. Luce can sleep in that room. Don’t go in the garage. The cars are antiques. Otherwise, help yourselves. Luce can show you around. Goodnight.”

  That was it. The end of his hospitality. He left us and started marching up the stairs. I watched him go, enjoying the view. At the top he glanced back one last time. Our eyes connected. A heat sparked through me. And I swear to God, it felt mutual.

  Interesting.

  “Why do I feel lik
e I’m in a horror movie?” Ollie stated once John was out of earshot.

  “Because you probably are,” I muttered. My eyes were still on the space that John had previously occupied.

  “Guys. This is perfect,” Caleb said to us. “It was either this or sleeping in the Hummer at the gas station. The gas station was the horror movie.”

  “If you say so,” Ollie added in a snide voice. “Is the fridge off limits?”

  He kept talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was scheming.

  Here’s the deal—I liked sex with strangers. It was kind of my thing. The ‘no-strings-attached, one-and-done, love-them-leave-them’—that was me. I wasn’t into second helpings. I wasn’t into commitments.

  In the months we were on the road, jumping from city to city, it made for the perfect opportunity to indulge in the kind of sex I liked.

  But since we’d arrived at this Godforsaken beach town, I’d been cooped up with my cousins. I was going stir crazy. I’d gone to the bonfire party tonight with Caleb, hoping I’d find someone decent to play with. All I’d found were taken men and duds. So here I was, in this tattooed mystery man’s house, feeling like fate had put him in front of me.

  I made polite conversation with Caleb and Emma, before excusing myself, saying I was off to bed.

  But fuck that.

  I marched up the stairs. Off to find John’s bed.

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  JOHN

  I hated having people in my house. I hated entertaining. I hated making conversation.

  I kept people at arm’s length. Luce and I were ‘friends’—friends in the sense that I’d done the hibiscus tattoo that adorned her neck, and a set of scales that covered one of her hips. But besides that, we weren’t really friends.

  My sister Sydney was close with her niece Emma, which was the only reason I’d let this group into my house tonight. They could stay one night only. Tomorrow, if they didn’t leave on their own, and early, I’d kick them out.

  This wasn’t a hotel.

  I padded across my room, opened the fridge, and pulled out the pitcher of filtered water. Grabbing a glass from the sink, I filled it. Yes, I had a mini kitchen in my room. In a sense, this was my house within my house. I also had a place above Kill Devil Ink, my tattoo shop, further down south in the Outer Banks. When I had days off, I always came here. Because I liked my solitude.

  Don’t fuck with my solitude.

  I heard a small knock on my door. It made me groan. Because, damn it, I thought I’d made it clear I didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Setting my drink on the counter, I moved for the door. I had an idea of who it might be. The chocolate-haired girl. Something about the way her chestnut eyes had stared at me, led me to believe she’d want more from me. That girl had trouble written all over her ink-free skin. I never messed with trouble.

  “What?” I said as I yanked open my door.

  It was her.

  She had her hair pulled up high on top of her head, little pieces purposely falling around her face. Fresh, young, wild—in a tight little skirt and a fringe, black leather jacket. Both fit her small frame so perfectly they must have been specially made for her body.

  “What?” I repeated.

  “Can I come in?”

  She had a rasp to her voice. I might have liked it if I liked people.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “Yes, you can. You can let me into your room.”

  I didn’t know what made me do it, but I opened the door wider and allowed her in. She walked into my space, the first woman to ever set foot in this room. Her eyes were on my shit, inspecting it. Then she saw my record collection, and that particularly interested her. She started perusing, as if this was the CD section at fucking Walmart.

  By this point, my pulse quickened. “Can I help you find something?” I tried.

  “You have good choice in music. I’m surprised.”

  What did she know about music? “And?”

  “And,” she continued. She looked at me full-force now. I’d given up dating years ago, but even then, a girl like her would never have gone for a guy like me. She was miles out of my league. Maybe in my high school days, in my boat-shoe wearing days as she’d so perceptively inferred from my home’s exterior, a girl like her would have noticed me.

  “I’m bored,” she said. “And you don’t look boring.” She briefly narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.” I don’t know why I was obliging her by answering. “And I don’t want one.”

  The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her small, rather pouty, mouth. “I’m not offering. But I’d really like to fuck you. Right now. In this room. No strings attached. You don’t have to call me tomorrow. I don’t want you to. Just hard, rough, sex.”

  My jaw dropped open. Wow. Holy shit. I’d pegged her as bold, but not that bold. And to my dismay, my traitorous cock flinched at her offer.

  I took a small step in her direction. “I’m not a story to tell your girlfriends when you return back to wherever it is you came from.”

  She sighed. Then she inched off her black jacket, revealing a lacy tank-top underneath. “I don’t have girlfriends. And I don’t tell stories.” She folded the leather, setting it on my bed beside her.

  No strings. One night. This beautiful woman. I was considering it.

  “Yes or no, John?”

  I was taking too long to answer her, too long to tell her to get the fuck out of my room. My mind seemed centered on the fact that—she knew my name. And I liked it.

  I locked my fingers behind my head, allowing my eyes to run down and then up over her body. The curve of her tits against the lace edge of that tank top had my throat dry.

  She made a noise, almost like a growl, and she unbuttoned the top button on her tight jean skirt. Her hands rested on the edge, showing off a little sliver of her stomach. Her eyes waited on my answer.

  Jesus. Fuck.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her no.

  “Take it off,” I said instead. “Take everything off.”

  ~ CHAPTER 3 ~

  DANI

  I had a second of doubt. A second of fear. But the fear was half the fun. These sort of nights for me usually came after drinking or partying. Or, at the very least, after the guy heavily pursued me. It had never happened like this. Completely sober. In the other person’s territory. Me taking the lead. But whatever, I wanted this. That want was blinding.

  He told me to take off my skirt. I was ready to do just that when he stepped closer and touched my wrist with his tattooed hand. “No,” he said, his voice an octave lower now, his blue icy gaze cutting through me. “Actually, if we’re gonna do this, then you should leave it on.”

  “We’re gonna do this,” I assured him.

  “And if I don’t like you much?”

  “You don’t have to like me. You just have to fuck me.”

  The way he stared down at me, caused a tremor to move through my body. I could see in his heavy gaze, in the rise and fall of his inked chest, in the tension of his jaw...that he wanted to fuck me. He was a liar too. Because if he wasn’t curious about me, he never would have let me into his room. He never would have paused at the top of the stairs earlier, looking back at me, seeking one more glance at me. And if he didn’t like me much, right this second, he would have been able to step away from me.

  Instead—his touch moved from my wrist, to the edge of my shirt. And wouldn’t you fucking know, like most men, he couldn’t tell me no. He lifted the material. I raised my arms to help. And he pulled my shirt clean off, dropping it on the floor beside us.

  “Take off your panties,” he commanded.

  Oh, hell yes, I could do that. The growing ache between my legs multiplied.

  Working under my skirt, understanding that he wanted to fuck me in my skirt, I looped my fingers along the edges and inched my underwear down my thighs. I stepped out of them and dropped them to his floor.

  Sudden
ly, he cupped my face with his strong hands and moved to kiss me. I sucked in a breath. “No,” I uttered before his lips came to touch mine. “No kissing. That’s not necessary, is it?”

  His mouth hovered millimeters from my mouth. “I guess you’re right,” he breathed. “It’s not necessary at all.”

  It was then that he took over. He turned my body, guided my hands so they’d grip one of his tall bedposts, and moved into position behind me.

  So this was going to be hard and rough.

  I don’t know why, but I felt a slight disappointment. I half wished I would have let him kiss me. But that feeling vanished when he ran his hands over my chest, popping my breasts free from their satin confinement, rolling each of my nipples between his fingers. Oh God, they hardened under his expert touch and seemed to be directly linked to the wetness between my legs. As his attention continued, I leaned back against his warm chest. He smelled so good and felt even better.

  Then his hands moved lower, and I squeezed my grip tighter around the wooden bedpost, pushing my ass into him. My clit throbbed, needing his immediate devotion.

  He seemed to understand because he worked my skirt up, exposing my bottom half to his well-lit room. With his knee, he nudged my legs apart. I opened my stance for him. Circling an arm around me, he touched me, for just a moment, running his index over my most sensitive spot.

  “Fuck, you’re ready.”

  A moan of bliss escaped my lips, one mixed with a cry of protest. Because he stepped away from me, in the opposite direction, the very next second.

  He went to his nightside table, opening the top drawer. “I don’t have any condoms,” he spoke. Meanwhile, I still stood there with my hands gripping wood and my bare ass sticking out, waiting for him to come fuck me.

  “I’m on birth control.”

  He frowned.

  “I’ll get a morning-after pill from the pharmacy tomorrow,” I added. “Fuck.” I needed him now. I needed him to touch me again.

  “I’ve never done it bare,” he told me. He returned to me, running his hands over my ass, then between my legs again. His touch felt incredible. I don’t think anything had ever felt this incredible.