Play Smart: An Enemies to Lovers Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Work For It Book 5), page 27
“Ah!” I cry out.
His muscles constrict as he strains harder with each push, feeding my orgasm and chasing his own. I wrap my hands around his arms for leverage, pulling with each collision, until he tenses with his own release. Eyes clenched shut and lips parted slightly, he’s the picture of what I knew this moment would be. That’s what it was for me, and as we both come down from the high, I’m reluctant to let him go and lose his warmth.
He rests his forehead on mine for a second, breathing hard as I shift my hold to his face. I adjust enough to draw his lips to mine for a long, sated kiss.
“You survived,” he teases, pulling back.
“Barely,” I mumble.
His smile grows, and I can’t help but return it. Electric blue eyes search mine and project a thousand words he will probably never say that I will always treasure. Almost as much as…
“Hmm. I’ve never done that before,” I say with a grin.
Alarm flares in his eyes as he stiffens and pulls back.
“Hold on. You’re a virgin? Fuck, Paige! Why didn’t you tell me?!”
I laugh and grip his shoulders to yank him back. “Relax. That’s not what I meant. I’ve done that before, but I’ve never been a screamer. I’m definitely a quiet climax girl.”
His body does relax, and I kind of love the smug look that replaces the concern. “Ah. Well, in that case, I guess you’ll have to edit that description of yourself.”
I scrunch my brow, considering. “Actually, I don’t know. One time doesn’t exactly warrant an edit. That’s more of a footnote.”
His eyes widen at the challenge. “Really. So how many times until an edit is justified?”
“Hmm… good question.” I tap my chin, then release a sly smile. “Maybe seven or eight?”
21—DREAMING
NASH
“That’s six!” I say, rolling off Paige to land on the mattress.
She shoots a glare in my direction. I can’t even see it. I feel it.
“No. That one didn’t count. It wasn’t a scream. More of a… choke.”
“A choke?” I push up to my elbow. “Are you serious? Did you really just imply we choked an orgasm out of you?”
“I didn’t imply it. It was pretty explicit. And that’s the perfect description for what that was.”
I shake my head and steal a kiss before resuming my ire. “You know, it’s not really fair when you’re trying not to make a sound just to spite me.”
“I’m not.”
I give her a look, and she bites her lip with a grin.
“We should be at about fifteen,” I mutter.
“Fifteen? No way. Maybe ten.”
“I knew it!” I say, poking her arm. “You are holding back so you don’t reach seven.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Nope. Admit it. I’m a sex god.”
She snorts a laugh and shoves me away when I lean over her like the sex god I am.
“Whatever, Romeo.”
“Was Romeo known for his bedroom skills? Isn’t he more of a trellis-climber kind of guy?”
“What’s wrong with trellis-climbers? I’ve dated a few. It comes in handy when you need to access things at the top of trellises.”
I laugh and shake my head. This girl.
“Fine.” I check the time and groan. “Hey, I gotta run. Val and I are meeting up with Larinda to review his work.”
“I’ve heard what he did. It’s good.”
“Duh.”
With one last kiss, I force myself out of bed to get ready for a long night of making other people’s dreams come true.
It’s been three weeks since that shitshow in L.A. I’d say a lot has changed, but that’s implying there are things that haven’t. I mean, I guess there are a few things that are still the same. Our armchair still has no arms. Eva still works at Reedweather Media, although the clock is ticking on that as well. Oh, and I’m sure Chad still owns the record for ugly polo shirts.
After the ransomware gaming event, Brighthouse reacted pretty much how I expected. Once I saw the “virus” and knew Nate was involved, I figured it wasn’t dangerous. The passcode to “get rid of the scary pop-ups” was especially hilarious. (I told Nate about Grant’s scary-pop-up-thingy-special-disk demand and I’m pretty sure my roommate pulled a muscle laughing.)
The passcode was nothing. As in, there was no passcode. You just had to press enter, but I figured it wouldn’t take much to confuse (a.k.a. impress) Grant. In exchange for my freedom, I told him I’d give him the code and a copy of the virus so they could exact their revenge on Sandeke Telecom. I also promised not to tell anyone about his involvement with Brighthouse. He doesn’t need to know that Marcos and Eva already knew he was a spy and his IT Department was probably about to call him any second with the magic “enter” solution.
Anyway, it worked. They let me go, I had Nate forward his masterpiece to me so I could pass it along, and thus ended my first (and only) spy mission. I put in my resignation as soon as I got back, along with Paige who insisted on having her four-page treatise notarized and spiralbound. Mine was a text to Chad, but whatever. At the end of the day, neither of us are employed at cheating mega-corporations.
As of now, we have yet to hear anything about a counterattack so the jury is out on that. I’m going to guess Grant’s IT Department also told him doing the same thing to Sandeke wouldn’t be worth the effort since the virus was so easy to disable it was only responsible for a surge in internet searches on “Renos.”
The real damage was the publicity of the attack due to the disruption of the live streaming event. Brighthouse’s network may be fine, but they took a huge PR hit when it looked like they got hacked, just as we hoped. So unless Sandeke decides to do an international streaming event Brighthouse can sabotage, the virus won’t be of much use to them. It’s kind of fun waiting to see when and what Brighthouse will do to strike back. Now I know how Luke Skywalker felt.
On the job front, things are looking up across the board. Eva gave Paige unofficial screaming orgasm number five when she asked if Paige would be interested in helping her execute a business plan for her own marketing firm she’d been working on for the last couple of months. I don’t think Paige even asked if the offer came with a salary. Or a job title or, well, anything. She said yes before Eva could even show her the business plan she’d be executing. I can’t explain any more than that because I tuned out after the screaming orgasm part. Paige is excited and happy, though, so that’s all I care about.
Val had an even bigger offer on his dining-room-table desk. After Larinda heard his final production on her track, she freaked out and asked him to work on the others. We still don’t know what Jarvis plans to do with the songs he tricked Steve into sending him. Maybe nothing since—I can’t believe I’m saying this—he and Larinda are back together. Just to play it safe, Steve and I teamed up to form a secret society dedicated to protecting Larinda from herself. Our first order of business is to finish her album and get it released under her name before Jarvis can stab her in the back… again.
As if we needed more reasons not to love the guy, we also learned from his PA that the green bandana he wears is to show support for his own fundraiser to restore his mansion in Miami. I don’t know how much he’s raised so far but I’m hoping it’s twelve paperclips and three mismatched buttons.
Then there’s me. Yeah, we don’t need to talk about that.
An urgent knock rings out on Paige’s door, and I can’t stop a smile from slipping out. Val is so nervous about today. It’s adorable. To be fair, I’ve been in his shoes and it’s an uncomfortable mix of terror and excitement to face your dream head-on. This meeting could change his life or send him right back to his kitchen table, so yeah. I get the frantic pound on that poor, unsuspecting piece of wood.
“Geez. Are you even late?” Paige asks. “I thought you were meeting Larinda at seven.”
“We are. He’s just anxious. He wants to review everything again before we head over.”
“Ugh. Haven’t you two listened to those songs enough? They were cool the first six hundred times.”
I shrug with a grin. “Now you know how I feel when you and Eva gush over competitive analyses or whatever.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve never done that.”
“Uh. Yeah. Last night at dinner. Even Marcos was getting annoyed and that guy shits boring financial reports.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“I can still hate you at the same time.”
Val knocks again.
“He’s coming!” Paige shouts at the same time I say, “I’m coming.”
Once my boxers are secure, I pull open the door and find exactly what I expected. Yep, the guy looks like he’s going to puke. How will he react to being in the same room as Larinda?
“She’s gonna love it, man,” I say, clapping his shoulder. “I promise.”
“You can’t promise that. I’ve never done much with country music before. These tracks are nothing like all the other stuff out there.”
“That’s a good thing. Trust me. Her stuff is more crossover anyway. She’s looking for a slightly different sound, hence bringing in a new producer. You got this.”
Val nods, but it’s obvious my words haven’t changed anything. Has telling someone not to feel a certain way ever actually worked?
“Right. I’m, um, gonna set everything up at the table,” he says.
“Great. And I’m gonna shower. Meet you in fifteen?”
He releases a long breath and starts down the hall.
“He really respects you. You’re like a big brother to him.”
A smile settles over my lips as warmth fills my chest. Yeah, the kid is kind of growing on me too. Still, I can’t let that comment slide.
“Gross,” I say.
“Gross? That was a huge compliment.”
I turn to Paige and scrunch my nose. “Yeah, but that would make you my sister.”
“Oh my gosh. You’re ridiculous,” she groans, throwing a decorative pillow at me. I’ve noticed a lot of those scattered around the apartment lately. It’s like she plants them in strategic locations just so she can chuck one at me.
“Yep. And you love it.”
“That’s her,” Val hisses.
“It is,” I say.
“I can’t do this.”
“Dude, you’ve talked with her on the phone three times already.”
“I know! But this is different.”
I’ve never seen Val shake so hard. Even when he met Abram Fletcher he had more cool than he does right now.
“Larinda is an angel,” I say. “She will love you.”
She loves everyone. Unfortunately.
“Come on.”
I grab his sleeve and drag him into the studio before he can ruin his future by running away from a lifechanging opportunity. Literally, because the guy looks ready to bolt. He also looks fast and I’m in no mood to be chasing anyone down.
“Nash!” Larinda says, jumping up from the couch.
I return her greeting and motion toward Val.
“Oh my goodness! Val!” she shrieks, flinging her arms around him before I can even make the introduction.
He stiffens, looking shellshocked, until a wide grin seeps onto his face.
“Hi, Larinda. Nice to meet you,” he says with legit human words. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.
“You didn’t tell me he was so cute,” she says to me in a playful reprimand. “Look at you. You’re freaking adorable. Geez.”
And now Val is just a useless puddle on the floor. Great. I’m not cleaning that up.
He shakes his head with a shy smile, and I’m honest enough to admit she’s not wrong. The kid definitely has some boy-next-door vibes going on if the boy-next-door also had a bit of a rebellious streak and a decent garage band.
She steps back and waves us toward two open chairs in front of a computer monitor. I see the DAW software up on the screen already loaded with the stems for one of the tracks. Huh. Interesting.
“I know you converted the midi tracks to .wav files so I could listen, but I told my people to grab all the plugins you use so you don’t have to do that anymore,” she says. “We’ll also stick with SoundStage 4 as our DAW to make things easy.”
“Is that why you asked what software I was using?” Val asks, clearly surprised. To be honest, so am I. The world grossly underestimates this woman.
“Yes,” she says brightly. “I figured it’ll be a lot easier to collaborate if we’re all using the same stuff now that we’re working together full-time.”
Hold up. Did she just say what I think she said?
Val stares at her in shock.
“So you listened to what he sent?” I ask when it’s clear my friend won’t be speaking for a while.
She pulls up a third chair. “Of course. Why do you think we’re here?”
“To show you what he sent,” I say.
She snaps me a look of disbelief. “You actually think I wouldn’t listen the second you sent the link?”
“So you… liked it?” Val asks.
Now she’s the one looking horribly confused.
“Liked it?” She grunts and kicks the chair beside her so Val can sit.
Reaching for a composition book, she flips it open to a page covered with notations. “These are my notes. You’re here to review them and start making final decisions so we can get these tracks mastered and released. Oh, and I loved your idea of adding a rock element to ‘Crimson Crush.’ We are totally doing that. The label freaked when I told them we’re using a new producer and mixing some things up for this album, but screw them.”
She giggles, and oh my god. What is happening right now?
“You told your label about him?” I force out. Holy shit.
She squints at us like we’re the ones not making any sense. “Um. Duh. They kind of have to know I’m using someone else from now on. Contracts and rights and all that?”
She almost looks annoyed as she shakes her head in disbelief at our ignorance. “Okay, so let’s start with what you did for… you know what? Let’s start with ‘Crimson Crush.’ Let me just pull that up.”
While Larinda searches through the folder of song files, I shoot a look to Val. He blinks at me in stunned silence, his dark brown eyes glistening with… fuck. Now, I’m tearing up too. Man, I hate this shit.
I pull my gaze away to focus on the screen before I do something ridiculous like hug someone.
“Oh, shoot!” Larinda says, pivoting in her chair to face Val. “We didn’t talk about the money part! No wonder you’re confused. So I’m not sure what you usually get, but I was hoping you’d be okay with ten per track.”
“Ten?” he croaks out. “Per track?”
I hear shock in his trembling voice. Larinda hears disappointment.
“I know that’s not ideal,” she says quickly. “But I think we have the best chance of convincing the label to get on board if we go in low to start. After this album, they should be fine bumping it up to fifteen or twenty, especially if it does well, which I know it will. Please say you’re okay with that. Pleeeease.” She even bats her eyes and juts out her lip in an exaggerated plea that’s actually kind of cute. Even cuter? Val’s face right now.
He’s back to a blinking mannequin.
“Can he get any of that up front?” I ask. “Say, thirty-five?”
Relief washes over her. “I’m sure we can do that. If we can get you an advance, you’ll accept ten per song?” she asks Val. When he still doesn’t respond, she starts counting on her fingers. “Okay, well if there are twelve songs, that’s one-twenty, right? So maybe we can do half up front? What about sixty?”
“You… you want to pay me sixty?” he says in a weak voice.
“Sixty thousand dollars, yes. Then the rest after we complete the project.”
His gaze rushes to mine again and ugh. Here we go. More annoying emotions because I see everything in this saturated moment. It has nothing to do with the money, although being able to shove thirty-grand into his horrible parents’ faces will be pretty damn satisfying. This is about a dream. About his soul that has just been validated and adored.
Told you this kid was going to be something big.
“I… um… think that would be okay,” he says.
“Really? Eek!” Larinda says, clapping her hands. “Perfect. Then let’s get started. I had this idea for the intro. You know how you had that cello? What if we add…”
My work here is done.
I end up leaving Larinda’s studio long before her producer does. By the third song it was pretty clear they had a good thing going and didn’t need my input or mediation. Besides, I have a girlfriend who keeps blowing up my phone with texts about GOING STRAIGHT BACK TO YOUR PLACE! the second I finish.
Marcos is out with Eva celebrating his birthday, and Nate is… somewhere… nursing his wounds with friends after his breakup with Myra. So, sure, I’m looking forward to chillin’ at my apartment instead of hers for once too, but her excitement over a bad movie and maybe a pizza seems a little excessive.
Anyway, I text her the second I’m on the sidewalk, and twenty minutes later I fulfill my promise by returning to my apartment two minutes before I said. All-in-all I’d say I’ve had a pretty successful night in the benevolence department.
Until…
“Abram?” I ask when I see my old friend rise from the couch. I shut the door and greet him with a hug. “What are you doing in New York? You should have told me you were coming in.”
“I’m only here for a few hours, and I couldn’t,” he says.
Wait, why does he look nervous? Abram Fletcher isn’t afraid of anything.
“Why couldn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have told me not to come.”
“Huh?”
He clears his throat. “Sit down, Ellis.”
Okay? What’s going on?
