Dirty Like Brody: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 2) Read online

  “Piper’s not even here,” he said, still holding me pinned against the tree. “You want me to go head-to-head with a dozen pissed-off bikers, armed pissed-off bikers, ’cause you keep screaming like a banshee for me to get off you? You want someone in that party deciding you need to be relieved of me, just so he can take my place?”

  Okay. That got through.

  The guys in that party were kinda scary. Like scary in the way Piper was scary to other people—because I didn’t know them, and yeah, they were probably armed. But mostly, scary because Brody seemed to think I should be scared of them.

  No way I’d admit that to him, though. I didn’t need him.

  At that point in time, I was well on my way to convincing myself I didn’t need anyone.

  I bit my lip and sniffled, shaking my head.

  “Hope you’ve got something nice to wear to my fucking funeral,” he said, releasing me. He eased back an inch, but didn’t step away.

  “I wasn’t going to get you in trouble,” I whispered into the small space between us.

  Brody was still breathing hard, and something in his eyes had changed as he stared at me. They looked kind of… dreamy, and darker than usual.

  “You, at this party,” he said, “is nothing but trouble.”

  “Why? Why can Roni be here but I can’t?”

  “Because I don’t give a fuck about Roni.”

  “But what if something happens?”

  “Like what? She falls on someone’s dick?”

  I sucked in a massive breath, preparing to blast him for that.

  “She’s not a virgin, you know,” he added quickly. “Half the guys at your school have already—”

  “Shut UP!” I shouted at him. “Don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know!”

  “I know you like her and she’s fun to have around, and she gets you in trouble, yeah?”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s my job to bail your ass out of trouble when you get into it. And when I see you walk into a party like that, I know trouble’s coming. I’d rather pre-empt that shit before it hits the fan.” He got in my face again, forcing me back against the tree. “Get used to it and stop acting like a spoiled princess who can do whatever the fuck she wants without any consequences. I know and you know that you’re still a snot-nosed little brat inside, but guess what, sweetheart? Those guys don’t know shit about you. All they see is some hot teenage ass they wanna get up inside.”

  “That’s disgusting!” I cried. “And I do not need you to bail my ass out of trouble! Who the hell made that your job?”

  “YOU did,” he said, “every time you called me crying in the middle of the night.”

  “I did NOT call you crying!” I protested, embarrassed, but that wasn’t true. After the tampon incident, I’d just started going to him instead of Jesse whenever I needed something; I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because he kept coming around, checking up on me. He was just always there, even when my brother wasn’t.

  Maybe because I’d seen what my brother had gone through for years, how hard he worked to take care of me and our mom, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil all his fun when he’d rather be playing gigs or getting laid than looking out after his kid sister all the time.

  Maybe because more and more I’d felt like a burden in my brother’s life.

  But Brody… Brody never made me feel like a burden.

  Until now.

  “No? You don’t call me crying whenever you need something?” he accused. “Crying to me about your mom always sleeping and Jesse pissing you off and every time some prick tries to get in your pants? Who’s there to swoop in and save you, Jessa? It’s me.”

  “Then stop doing it if you don’t want to! And I’ll stop calling!”

  I stood there fuming, shuddering, just trying not to break down in sobs. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need a fucking babysitter. Where did he get off, thinking he was doing me some kind of favor by ruining my life?

  He blinked at me.

  “I don’t want you to stop,” he said, and then, suddenly, his mouth was on mine.

  He kissed me, hard, forcing my mouth open… and as soon as I got over the shock of it, I succumbed to it. My bones went all liquidy as he shoved his tongue in my mouth, hot and strong. He pressed me against the tree and I clung to him, feeling lightheaded. Kind of like the whole world was spinning and somehow we were dancing and he was leading, and I was going with him, wherever he would take me… and then suddenly I lost track of the steps, of where his lead ended and mine began, and I was kissing him back… harder and faster, pushing back, tasting, sucking, wanting more. My body grew hot against his…

  And then a little shiver prickled through me.

  I got scared.

  I pulled away, breaking the kiss. I stared at him as he panted, looming over me.

  I could only guess how much more experienced he was than me, but I had a rough idea. I saw the girls my brother’s friends hung out with, and I was pretty sure Brody wasn’t exactly saving himself for the priesthood.

  And yes, I was afraid. I was afraid of that burning look in his eyes, a look I’d so desperately wanted directed at me, yet now that it was… I did not know what to do with it. I was well aware that Brody was no longer a boy, that he was a man; that he had been a man for a long time, while I was still fumbling around in that awkward borderland between girlhood and what lay beyond. I had no idea how ready I was or totally wasn’t for what would follow that look.

  He ran his knuckles, softly, over my cheek. “Jessa—”

  “I’ve seen you with Christy Rempel,” I blurted. “Everyone knows she’s the worst kind of slut.”

  Okay; that was maybe a slight exaggeration. In truth, all I knew for sure was that Christy, who was the older sister of one of my classmates, was nineteen, voluptuous, had her own car and an apartment, and a job. In other words she was a woman.

  But throwing her reputation under the bus was the only thing I could think of to do in that moment to drive a wedge between us.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, mostly for the comment about Christy, but also because I had to get out of there.

  I turned to run, but my stupid boots slipped on the wet grass again. Brody’s hand closed on my arm, hauling me back around to face him. “Don’t run from me,” he said, his voice all low and husky, his blue eyes soft. “No matter what happens… I’ll never hurt you, Jessa.”

  “I know,” I said, hiccuping a little. I’d been doing so much yelling and trying so hard not to burst into tears, I was getting a headache.

  “I know you’re not ready for this,” he said, sifting his fingers into my hair, gently gripping my neck, sending shivers down my spine and making me wonder what, exactly, this was… and really, really wanting to know. Wanting him to show me.

  Then he drew me closer, until our lips touched again, gently this time… I breathed in his clean, manly smell, like leather and the wind off a green field on a warm summer day, and heat tore through my body like wildfire. He breathed softly against my face and whispered, “I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for you ’til you’re ready.”

  Maybe some girls would’ve been thrilled to hear that. Swept up in the romantic implications of it. Swoony.

  I just felt sick.

  “You can’t wait for me,” I protested, and he frowned.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Didn’t you ever see Legends of the Fall?” I sniffled. “You know, when the girl tells Brad Pitt she’ll wait for him forever?”

  “So?”

  “So… forever is too long, so she ends up marrying his brother and then blowing her head off.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, his thumb skimming over my cheek. “That sounds depressing as fuck, Jessa.”

  I shrugged and tried to smile. “Sorry for the spoiler.”

  “No worries. I’m never watching that shit. And I’m not blowing my head off either, you want me or not. I promise you that.”

  Then we both realiz
ed what he’d said; what I’d said. I knew it by the look on his face, at the same moment it hit me. My dad hadn’t shot himself. But suicide wasn’t exactly a vague romantic concept in my world.

  “Jessa.” Brody moved closer, pulling me against him so his body was flush against mine, big, strong, and warm against the night. “I’m not gonna do that shit and neither are you,” he said softly, “no matter what happens in our lives. Stop brooding on that nasty shit or it’s gonna eat up all the good and the sweet in you, and princess, there’s a whole lot of good and sweet. So just stop. No one’s gonna die here, yeah? People don’t have to die just because they care about each other.”

  I gave up the fight and started crying, the tears flowing openly down my cheeks. “Either way,” I told him, “I don’t want you waiting on me. I can’t handle that kind of pressure, Brody.”

  “Jesus, babe, get your shit together,” he said, but the words were soft, almost a whisper, and he held me tight, kissing the tears from my cheeks. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me just ’cause you love me.”

  I sucked in air and held my breath.

  Because I loved him?

  Brody knew I loved him?

  I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved.

  He sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “How about I wait for you for a year, and then we’ll see what happens.”

  I exhaled shakily and nodded a little, because I couldn’t speak.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I said, not even fully understanding what exactly I was agreeing to, just knowing that I wanted it. I wanted him, so bad.

  I always had.

  “Good. Now get your ass on my bike.”

  He took off his leather jacket and put it on me. Then he pulled me through the misting rain and drove me home, and I thought I knew what was going to happen. I saw my whole life rolled out ahead of me as the pavement whipped past and the white lines blurred into each other on that highway, my arms wrapped tight around Brody’s waist.

  My brother and his band were going to be superstars. When I got brave enough, I’d show them the lyrics I’d been writing, and they’d put them in their songs.

  When I got really brave, I’d kiss Brody again.

  Then I’d marry him. We’d have kids, and everything would be perfect.

  That was the fantasy.

  Then my mom died.

  Seth happened.

  A whole lot of other shit happened.

  And in the midst of my grieving and my awkward coming-of-age among my brother’s friends, infatuated with a man I didn’t yet know how to make mine and foolishly thinking I had all the time in the world to figure it out… it was the heartbreak I didn’t even see coming that trampled my dreams.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brody

  “So… how you been, Bro?”

  “Great,” I said.

  I was hammering on a punching bag and Jesse was looking at me like I wasn’t fucking great at all. More like I’d grown horns out of my head. That cautious tone of voice really fucking irritated me.

  Since the wedding, everyone had been talking to me like that.

  Well, since I’d walked Jessa back to her cabin and told her she broke my heart, and she blew me the fuck off, and I started leaving a trail of broken shit in my wake.

  I didn’t know you were in love with me, and it’s not my fault if you were.

  Fuck.

  Couldn’t they all just get a fucking clue? I didn’t wanna talk. Usually, Jesse was fine with that. Heart-to-hearts with his bros weren’t exactly his forte. But he did have a gym in his house, and I definitely felt like punching things. A lot.

  I hadn’t counted on Jude being here, though.

  Jude had little patience for other people’s bullshit, just like I did, so usually that worked for me. But when he said, “He means what the fuck’s up your ass?” I started to seriously regret dropping by. “You’ve been wearing that ugly face all week. You know, you keep scowling like that, it might get stuck.”

  I threw an ugly look his way and kept punching.

  “Think about it. How’re you gonna get laid, that happens? Your sparkling personality isn’t gonna do it.”

  I ignored him.

  “He’s right,” Jesse put in. “Ladies like to laugh, and you’ve got shit for jokes. Good thing you’ve got money.”

  They were fucking with me. Trying to make me laugh, ease up a bit. Or piss me off enough that I snapped and maybe flipped out of this shit mood I was in.

  I glanced over at them, where Jude was spotting Jesse on the bench press. “How about you girls worry about your own pretty faces, yeah?”

  I caught Jude throwing a sideways glance at Jesse. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Jessa coming back to town, huh?”

  I turned my focus back to the punching bag. “Broke up with Amanda.”

  Yeah, that sounded convincing. A convenient excuse for the rotten funk I’d been in. And it was true; I’d broken up with her as soon as we got back from the wedding. Which sucked, in a way, because there was a whole lot to like about Amanda. She was smart, compassionate, pretty, athletic, and seriously into me. Plus, she hadn’t broken my heart, so she had that going for her.

  If I’d never met Jessa Mayes, I probably could’ve seriously fallen for an Amanda.

  But I did meet Jessa Mayes. I met her when I was young, angry and had shit all in the way of love in my life, and that lonely eight-year-old girl with the big brown eyes made me smile for the first time in a long time.

  She made me smile a lot, back then.

  Never mind that the woman she’d grown into had caused me more pain than anyone else I’d ever known. Any way I tried to get around it, there was no denying it. Jessa Mayes was in my motherfucking bones.

  She always had been.

  Amanda wasn’t the reason I’d been walking around slamming doors, rattling windows and breaking shit that got in my way.

  And even Amanda knew it.

  “It’s her, right?” she’d asked me, just as I was about to walk out of her life. “Jessa,” she said. “The rose on your hand.”

  It’d taken me kind of aback. I’d never told anyone the meaning behind that tattoo.

  She’d just shrugged and said, “You stare at it a lot. And… you stare at her a lot.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  And yeah, the rose was for her.

  I’d had it done nine years ago, at a time when things between us were getting really fucked up. It was on my right palm, at the base of my thumb. Just a small rose entangled in thorny vines, to mark the spot where, even though things between us were fucked up, she’d kissed me at my father’s funeral.

  It was the only way I could think of to somehow ink Jessa Mayes onto my body and not raise too many eyebrows. And I had to ink her onto my body. Had to have her with me, to remind myself that there was something between us, something real… or at least there had been, once, even if it was temporarily fucked up.

  At the time, I’d really believed it was temporary.

  “She okay, man?”

  Jesse was still eying me across the gym, and all I could think was: How the fuck would I know?

  Then I realized he wasn’t asking about Jessa.

  I took a break to guzzle some water before I sweat out my body weight and passed out. “Yeah,” I said, but I had no idea if that was true.

  I honestly hadn’t thought about it.

  Since I’d walked away from Amanda after telling her it was over, I’d felt nothing in that direction but a sense of relief, of finality, the likes of which I’d never come close to feeling toward Jessa.

  I went back at the bag with a vengeance. Because what the fuck else was I gonna do to keep from losing my mind?

  I hadn’t seen her for days. Not since I’d confronted her at the church and basically told her to leave. She hadn’t returned the phone call I’d made to her this morning and she wasn’t responding to my texts.

  Nothing fucking new,
right?

  And yet, it still gutted me.

  I wouldn’t have thought there was anything left for Jessa Mayes to take, since she’d already eviscerated my heart and soul so many years ago. But apparently there was still shit for her to carve out of me…

  I could still feel her, damp and near-naked, her silky bra and panties clinging to her as she wrapped her goddess-like body around me, rubbing herself against me. Could still feel her heartbeat, her heat and her need.

  Could still taste her as she kissed me, like she’d been starving for my kisses all her life.

  Could still hear her, her helpless whimpers… gasping with anticipation… and singing by that fire in the night with a smile on her face.

  I could still feel the long, smooth curve of her thigh as I slid that frilly garter up… up…

  I’m not wearing any underwear.

  Shit.

  How the hell was I supposed to let her go again? When I’d glimpsed the pain and the regret in her eyes? When I’d held her, all drunk and vulnerable in my arms? Worse, I’d felt the hunger that was still there between us. A hunger that had never been sated.

  Jessa wanted me. And still… she was running from me.

  This time, maybe I was running too.

  This morning, I’d driven past the church. I didn’t stop. Not because she might be there. Because what if she wasn’t? What if we were losing her again?

  What if we were losing her because of what I’d said?

  There’s nothing you can do. Except leave now if that’s what you’re gonna do.

  After I passed the church, I drove back into town and over to Roni’s place, since it was nowhere near my route coming back from the church. Yeah, pretty much like a stalker would.

  I didn’t even know what the fuck I was planning to do or say if I saw her. If Jessa was even there. Even when I’d called her, I didn’t know what I would say.

  Apologize again?

  Beg her to stay with the band again?

  Fat fucking lot of good that ever did.

  I was just making up my mind not to stop, to just drive on by, when I saw her. A few blocks from Roni’s, standing at the curb, waiting for the light to change so she could cross the street. She was carrying a takeout coffee from JJ Bean and gazing off into nothing; not vacantly, but the way she used to when she was working out a song in her head. It was just about to rain but she had no umbrella, no jacket. Her hair was twirled up into a messy knot thing on top of her head. She was wearing Ray-Bans and pink Chucks and ripped jeans, and a T-shirt that said Rock ’N’ Roll Stole My Soul. Looking just that little bit awkward, like she always did: like some angel fallen to Earth, trying to pass as a regular person.