Hard Rock Tease: A Rock Star Romance (Darkest Days Book 1) Read online

  Hard Rock Tease

  A Rock Star Romance

  Athena Wright

  Copyright © 2017 Athena Wright

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Dedications

  To my fellow rock star author and BFF Crystal Kaswell. It's been amazing sharing this journey with you. It wouldn't have been half as fun without our daily fangirl rants and raves.

  To my best friends Maggie and Jeff. I never would have gotten as far as I have without your continuous love, support and outpouring of ideas.

  Other Books By Athena Wright

  Feral Silence: A Rock Star Romance Series

  Hard Rock Gaze - Jayce and Ailey's story

  Hard Rock Voice - Kell and Emily's story

  Hard Rock Touch - Ren and Ivy's story

  Hard Rock Heart - Morris and Natalie's story

  Darkest Days: A Rock Star Romance Series

  Hard Rock Tease - Noah and Jen's story

  Hard Rock Sin - Cameron and Lily's story (Coming Early 2017)

  Hard Rock Fling - Ian and Hope's story (Coming 2017)

  Hard Rock Heat - Damon and Faith's story (Coming 2017)

  Hard Rock Deceit - August and Crystal's story (Coming 2017)

  Coming Soon

  Cherry Lips: A Rock Star Romance Series

  Cerise and Liam's story

  Gael and Jessie's story

  Nathan's story

  Julian's story

  Seth's story

  Stay informed of new releases, discounts and giveaways. Visit athenawright.com and subscribe to my newsletter

  ALERT: Bonus Novel At The Back

  You’ve downloaded a limited edition version of this ebook which contains a bonus novel at the back.

  Continue flipping the page at the end of Hard Rock Tease to read Hard Rock Gaze, featuring sex god guitarist Jayce Evans.

  Hard Rock Tease

  Summary

  Rock god Noah Hart needs inspiration. And he's choosing me as his muse.

  In my darkest days, I found solace in the words of rock star god Noah Hart. He saw into my heart. And I saw into his. Even though we'd never met, I felt as if I knew the man behind the music.

  Then I met him.

  Noah isn't a wounded poet.

  He's a jerk.

  He's abrasive, cutting, and guarded as hell. He says people are selfish. He says we're only out for ourselves. He refuses to trust. He refuses to let anyone in.

  I'm supposed to be helping him write a song. I'm supposed to be his confidant.

  But the only time we connect is when we take to his bed. Noah plays my body as skillfully as he plays the piano. He makes me feel things I've never dreamed of.

  And that includes heartache.

  The man behind the music is nothing like I imagined.

  Who exactly is this Noah Hart I've met, and what the hell happened to my soulful, romantic poet?

  — — —

  Hard Rock Tease is a sexy New Adult Rock Star Romance. It is the first novel in the Darkest Days series, but can be read as a standalone with a HEA.

  A note from the author: This book is complete and utter fangirl wish fulfillment. It is not realistic at all. Then again, who reads rock star romances for realism, anyway? ;)

  Chapter One

  My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I took deep breaths to try and calm myself. It didn't work. I was going to miss my interview with Etude Entertainment. I was going to lose the best chance I had at getting my foot of the door in the music industry.

  The building had too many twists and turns. The corridors all looked the same with their eggshell white walls and marble-tiled floors. Rushing around one more corner, I pushed my way through a set of double doors with shaky, clammy hands. I didn't know which way I was going, but I hoped if I continued on I'd at least find someone to ask.

  Light strains of music hit my ears the moment the doors swung open. Piano music. Some of my rising anxiety eased. Maybe there was finally someone I could for directions.

  Following the music down the hall, I found an open door. A quick peek inside showed me a man sitting at a piano. Broad shouldered, black hair, and tall. Even though he was sitting down I could tell when he stood he'd reveal an impressive height. No doubt much taller than me.

  I was about to knock on the open doorframe when the man began to hum. Lithe fingers spidered across the keys, a soft, tinkling melody that complimented the humming. Every so often he would stop to make a notation on a piece of paper laid flat on the top of the piano's surface.

  Even without words, the man's singing was lovely. Almost sweet and romantic, somehow. The music made my heart swell, touching something inside of me. Such a sad song, yet at the same time hopeful. There was a longing beneath the light humming.

  My rapid heartbeat slowed, my frazzled nerves soothed by the music. Without meaning to, I lost myself in that melody. As a music student, I could appreciate the intricacies of each note. The song didn't sound quite finished. A rough draft, maybe. Still, I could tell the man was gifted.

  Hunched over the piano, his shoulders tensed up. He pressed down hard on the keys, fingers now flying. The soft melody turned harsh and aggressive. Whatever loving sentiment the man had begun with, he'd lost it. The music became louder, unpleasant. I could hear unspoken rage in the smash of every key.

  The longer the man played the more discordant the notes become, until he slammed his hands down one final time, the music resolving itself in a crash of noise. I jumped, my heart beating a pounding rhythm against my ribcage.

  The man buried his hands in his hair, tugging at the strands. He hunched further over the keyboard. He cursed, a quiet, forlorn expletive. Moments later he shot up from his seat at the piano with a flurry, knocking off the papers full of music notes, sending them scattered to the floor.

  I took a few steps back out into the hallway, nervous adrenaline racing through my veins.

  The man stood in front of the piano, his back to me, chest heaving with every breath. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a slow breath in, then out. Running his hands down his face, he let out a soft, pained sound.

  This man was clearly in the middle of an emotional breakdown. I didn't want to interrupt. I took a few more steps backwards, intending to leave before he noticed me.

  He bent to pick up the music sheets from the floor. I saw his face for the first time.

  All the air left my lungs.

  This was a man I'd recognize anywhere.

  Blinking once slowly to clear my eyes, I counted to three, making sure I wasn't imagining things. When I looked again, it was still him. Dressed all in black, from his open leather jacket, to his form fitting t-shirt to his tight jeans…

  My eyes nearly bugged out. Damn, those were some tight jeans. My stomach muscles clenched involuntarily, an instinctive reaction. A pulse of arousal spiked through my body, warming me from the inside.

  My gaze followed his body down further to his heavy black combat boots.

  My heart stuttered in my chest.

  It really was him.

  Noah.

  Fucking.

  Hart.

  All my senses went on high alert.

  Noah Hart, lead singer of my favorite rock band Darkest Days, a rock star god, a man I admired beyond all reason, stood mere feet away from me.

  My eyes travelled over his body, taking in his long legs, broad shoulders, a
nd messy dark hair. I gnawed on my lip as excitement ran through me. He looked even hotter in person than he did on stage or on TV.

  Although I had to be honest, I was sort of disappointed he wasn't wearing leather pants and eyeliner.

  Pure misery showed on his face, his expression alight with inner turmoil. I held still, not making a move, not making a sound. I didn't want to disturb him in what seemed to be a private moment.

  I also didn't want to risk opening my mouth and freaking out in the presence of one of my music idols.

  Noah scooped the papers up, gathering them into some semblance of order. His face was open and lined with pain. The emotion he exuded on stage was just as evident in person. I wondered if he was working on a new song, if this was part of his process.

  Something lit up inside my chest at the thought of Noah Hart having trouble writing songs. The fact that it might not come easy to him, despite the wondrous lyrics he wrote and the passionate way he sang, gave me a small bit of comfort. Sometimes it seemed like the work that I struggled with came about so effortlessly to everyone else.

  Maybe he and I had something in common when it came to that.

  I was still lingering in the doorway, watching him, drinking him in. Dark tattoos peeked out of the collar of his shirt. Enough of his upper chest was exposed to make my thighs clench. One of my shaky hands gripped the doorknob. The other was pressed to my heaving chest, feeling every one of my shallow breaths.

  I shouldn't have been so affected. It wasn't like I'd never met this man or his band before. I was a fan, after all. I'd seen them backstage dozens of times. I'd shaken their hands and spoke a few words to each, gotten their autographs and given them my thanks.

  I'd even seen a few members of the band up close at a private event, once. Being a music student and having friends with connections in the industry had its perks. Of course, at the time, all I'd been able to do was stare at them, mouth gaping open and blushing. It had been mortifying.

  I wasn't going to let that happen again. I had to get out before I made a fool out of myself.

  But I had stood in the doorway for too long. I should have left when I had a chance. Noah turned to leave. He froze as his eyes met mine.

  Immediately his expression shut down, eyes shuttering. His face went blank, no trace of the pain I'd seen before.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm so sorry," I replied immediately, shuffling my feet back and forth awkwardly.

  His voice was flat. "No one's supposed to be here."

  "I-I'm lost," I stammered.

  The expression on his face was chilly, except for the lingering frustration in his eyes and the downturned corners of his mouth. He set down the papers he'd picked up from the floor on the piano.

  "I'll just… leave," I said weakly.

  Noah eyed me up and down slowly. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at that penetrating gaze. I couldn't help eyeing him back. Damn, but those jeans were tight. I'd heard rumors, but he couldn't really be that big, could he? I could practically see his outline through the rough fabric.

  "Do I know you?" he asked coldly.

  I shook my head, trying to suppress the heat flaring between my legs.

  "I've seen you before." The words weren't a question. "It was at a party. That album release."

  My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was for him to recognize me. I didn't want him to think I was just another one of his swooning fangirls. Even if it was true.

  "I remember." His eyes narrowed. "You were so starstruck you couldn't say a word."

  I fought to shake myself out of my daze. Noah was right. I had been struck speechless before. Almost like I was now. I didn't want to let that happen again. I could pull myself together. Definitely. I could totally do that.

  "Well. You know." I gestured to him.

  He tapped his fingers on the top of the piano in an impatient rhythm. "No, I don't know. What?"

  "You're Noah Hart," I shrugged helplessly. Noah. Fucking. Hart. I still couldn't believe it.

  "You're a fan?"

  I tried to make light of it. "Who isn't a fan of Darkest Days?"

  "So the answer is yes?" he asked, almost mocking.

  I stayed silent.

  "How lucky for you to have stumbled upon me."

  I swallowed hard. I was either lucky or cursed. How could I possibly manage an interview after running into the lead singer of Darkest Days? My heart felt like it might explode out of my chest. My limbs were trembling. My insides were throbbing.

  I had to get a hold of myself.

  "I didn't mean to intrude. I'm here for an interview."

  "This area is off limits to non-employees."

  "I'm sorry. I think I got off on the wrong floor."

  I hovered in the doorway, unable to make myself walk away.

  "You want an autograph or something?" His voice full of snark. "I can't imagine why else you'd still be standing here."

  "Sorry, I'll just…" I trailed off, breath hitching as Noah strode over.

  He moved like a wild animal, purposeful, with a barely restrained edge. As he approached, he scanned me up and down, his dark eyes intense. I felt my nipples tighten and peak underneath my blouse.

  His eyes lingered on my chest. I had no doubt he could see the effect he was having on me. I fought back a flush.

  "Or maybe you want more than an autograph?"

  I folded my arms over my stiff nipples to hide them. "I don't know what you mean."

  "Fangirls throw themselves at me all the time. You think I don't recognize that look you're giving me?"

  "I'm not throwing myself at you. I'm just standing here."

  "Your nipples are hard as a rock."

  A sense of shame swirled and combined with outrage inside my chest. "It's cold in here."

  "It's almost summer."

  "The air conditioning is on."

  "Is that why your face is red?"

  I put my hands to my cheeks. "It is not."

  Noah smirked. "I bet your pussy's soaked, too."

  My mouth popped open, appalled and turned on at the same time. Hearing those dirty words out of this man's mouth made my inner walls pulse.

  "Famous rock star or not, you don't get to makes comments on my pussy."

  "Am I wrong?" He took another step forward, crowding me until my back was nearly to the wall. My breathing sped up. I couldn't even tell if I was angry or turned on. He smirked. "Have I turned you speechless again?"

  I inhaled a sharp breath, but nothing came out.

  He narrowed his glinting eyes at me and backed away. I let out a wavering whimper, my vocal chords beginning to work again.

  Noah gave me a darkly amused look as he walked through the open door. "Good luck with your interview, fangirl."

  The moment he left I clung to the doorframe, my knees going weak. Shivers ran down my spine, half in arousal and half in anxiety. I only had room for one thought in my head.

  Who exactly was this Noah Hart I'd met, and what the hell happened to my soulful, romantic poet?

  Chapter Two

  I couldn't believe I'd met Noah Hart.

  I couldn't believe Noah Hart had been so moody and abrasive.

  I also couldn't believe I was actually sitting in the vast foyer of Etude Entertainment with marble floors and expensive leather furniture. My stomach was doing flips, and it had nothing to do with the sexy, gruff rock star I'd encountered.

  Well. Maybe it had a little to do with that. Okay. A lot to do with that.

  I'd been sitting in the same spot for over twenty minutes, though. Straight-backed to avoid slouching, chin up to convey confidence, thighs pressed together to prevent a flashing incident. I exuded a sense of calm, competence, and professionalism.

  On the outside, anyway.

  On the inside, my mind gibbered away at me non-stop.

  Why were they making me wait so long? I didn't care. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. But what if they decided to go with someone else? Of co
urse they'd go with someone else. I was nothing special.

  It didn't matter how long they made me wait, though. I'd sit there forever if it meant I had a chance to work with one of the biggest entertainment companies in the world.

  Despite my misbegotten encounter with Noah Hart, I'd wait forever if I had a chance to work at the music label that had signed Darkest Days.

  I gave myself a mental shake. No use getting all worked up. I might not even get the job. I'd been left waiting for so long. Maybe they really had forgotten me. I'd been a single minute late. That might have been enough to disqualify me.

  Light footsteps sounded down the hallway. I stood up with haste, smoothing down my pencil skirt and blouse. I forced myself to breathe deeply, hoping to wipe away any hint of nerves. Thank god my nipples were no longer stiff with arousal.

  A woman wearing a smart pantsuit, in her late-twenties or early-thirties at most, stepped into the lobby.

  "Jennifer Young?"

  I pushed aside all thoughts of a certain grumpy, gorgeous, and goddamn sexy rock star god. I plastered a pleasant smile on my face.

  "Yes, I'm Jen."

  "Naomi Sera." The woman held out her hand for a shake. I made sure to grasp it firmly. She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed me a pen. "Before we do anything else, you need to sign this NDA."

  "A non-disclosure agreement?"

  "Exactly. You can't tell anyone the details of what we talk about today."

  I scribbled my name with haste and handed it back to her.

  "I'm sorry to keep you waiting." Her black hair, cut short in a severe bob, swayed back and forth as she shook her head, an apologetic look on her face. "I had some trouble with—" She cut herself off with an almost exasperated laugh. "Never mind. You'll see soon enough."