The Rocker’s Muse Read Online Penelope Ward

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Forbidden Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
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Almost an hour went by. It was nearly one in the morning when my phone finally rang.

I picked up. “Hey, what happened?”

“I did it. I told Doug everything,” Tristan said. “He agrees we should cancel tomorrow so I can rest my voice.” He sighed into the phone. “At least it’s the second show here, and we were able to get one in. That’s not going to satisfy the people who bought tickets for tomorrow night, though.”

“You don’t owe them anything, Tristan.”

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I’ll be staring at the ceiling, second-guessing my decision.”

“Have you heard from the guys since you told Doug?”

“They’re still out partying. They’ll find out soon enough. Honestly, I wish I didn’t have to be here when they do.”

I didn’t know what came over me, but it felt like the right thing to say. “Why don’t you come here?”

“To your mother’s house?”

“Yeah. You can rest here tonight and tomorrow, away from everyone. We’ll go back to the bus tomorrow night.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your time with your mom.”

“Are you kidding? She’d die to meet you. She’s asleep now, of course, but we can explain everything in the morning. Or I’ll explain, since you’ll be silent. I mean it. If you come here, you can’t talk. You need to rest your voice.”

“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

“You’re coming?”

“Already putting on my jacket.”

“How are you getting here?”

“I’ll call a car.”

“Under your name?”

“Hell no. I use Stephen’s account when I want to remain incognito. I’ll put my shades on and my hood. I’ll be good.”

After I gave him my address, we hung up, and I wondered if I needed my head checked. Not only would my mother definitely get the wrong idea, I wasn’t even sure what my intentions were. It wasn’t just that I had a massive crush on Tristan. I cared about him a lot. All I wanted was to protect him—not only from the world, but from his own harsh self-judgment.

I waited by the window until I saw the bright lights of a car pulling up in front of the house. The car door slammed shut, and then a dark shadow of a man dressed in black approached the house. With every step he took, my heart beat faster.

CHAPTER 14

TRISTAN

Emily opened for me before I even reached the door. She looked so damn beautiful standing there. Her long brown hair blew in the breeze as she stepped out to greet me. I didn’t give two fucks what was appropriate right now; I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into a hug, letting every ounce of tension release with my exhale.

“Thank you,” I said, taking in a long whiff of her flowery scent as if it were my oxygen. “You have no idea how nice this is, to be away from everything.”

Her warm body was an intoxicating mix of comfort and electricity. She molded perfectly to me as her heart beat against my chest. I felt secure in a way I wasn’t used to. Already this was a place I never wanted to leave.

She pulled back and led me inside. “Don’t forget. You can’t talk.”

“Can I at least whisper?”

“Only if you have to.”

Emily’s mother’s house was small but homey. The entryway had a coat closet off to the side. The living room had lots of windows and several plants. I immediately noticed a photo of Emily hanging on the wall. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. She still had the same small gap between her teeth, but the smile on her face in that image was different than her smile now—more genuine, less hesitant. The things that had darkened her smile were yet to come when that photo was taken.

Emily moved toward the kitchen, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’m going to make you some tea with lemon and honey. It’ll be good for your voice.”

Couldn’t argue with that. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

Being here was heaven. My life was divided between hotel rooms, tour buses, and my vast, but empty, mansion in L.A. Spending time in an actual, lived-in, welcoming home was a treat.

I lay back on the couch, appreciating the way my body sank into the cushions. Appreciating the quiet. I felt incredibly safe here, away from all my troubles.

Several minutes later, Emily brought me a cup of steaming hot tea. She placed it in front of me on the coffee table, and I could smell the lemon.

“Thank you. I don’t deserve this treatment.” After blowing on it, I took a sip, the water just hot enough to soothe without burning my throat. When I looked over at her, I caught her staring, which she often did. She turned away quickly. I loved catching her in the act, but it always made me wonder what she was thinking, whether she stared because she found me attractive, or if she was thinking something else.


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