The Trouble with Rock Stars

Chapter 7

After another morning of restless sleep, she was bleary-eyed and her head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton, and she was undeniably grumpy.

And it was all Troy Bolton's fault. Not because he'd said some things that really pissed her off or because he struck a nerve about her feelings for Thomas. Both of those things she could have dealt with, and in the moment, she had. No, it was that unexpected, toe-curling kiss that he'd planted on her that kept replaying in her mind in life like detail whenever she closed her eyes that was responsible for her sleep deficiency.

Not to mention the pulsing ache between her thighs that he'd instigated with that kiss. God, she hadn't been so hot and bothered in a long time, and after a few hours of trying to ignore that persistent arousal thrumming through her body, she'd finally reached into her nightstand drawer and let her battery-operated boyfriend get her off. At least, he never disappointed.

But as she'd slid the vibrator through her wet slit and closed her eyes to summon Thomas's face, it was Troy's gorgeous features that she'd seen dipping between her spread legs and his hands gripping her inner thighs as she kept them pushed wide apart so he could slide his wicked mouth across her needy pussy. With his dark hot eyes looking up at her, he'd flicked his tongue along her clit until she'd come on a long, hard, shuddering orgasm.

As a fantasy, Troy was quickly replacing all of her go-to guys. She couldn't even picture Liam Hemsworth anymore. He was sex personified, with a body built for sin and mouth made for pleasure, and good God, she wanted more of him, even knowing what a huge mistake it would be to give in to the lust burning between them...which is why she'd run from his front door. It had been pure self-preservation on her part, because if he'd opened that door again she wasn't sure she'd be able to resist him, or where another kiss like that might lead.

Then again, the shameless part of her that was attracted to Troy was very curious to discover what might happen between them if she allowed his lips on hers again, the possibilities were endless.

She shook the stream of thoughts from her head as she slipped into a black dress that hit her knees. She stood in front of the mirror and attempted to see herself from every angle. Yes, it looked appropriate from the front, but what if she had to dip down and retrieve a pencil. Would the seam ride up tastefully, or will it scream out yee-haw?

"Ella, Coffee!" her mother called from downstairs.

"Be right down," she said deciding to replace the black dress with pants and a blouse. No danger with fitted wool trousers.

She raced down the stairs fully changed, ready for work and finally in a state of calm when she came to an abrupt stop at the kitchen doorway.

There he was. Like rodent, she couldn't get rid of. Troy's lower body was visible as he tinkered with something under the sink. The sight of him shocked her into a stunned silence.

"Morning honey," her mom held out a cup of coffee and Gabriella eyed her quizzically as she took the mug.

"The sink had a drip, Troy said he could take care of it for me." Her mother side with a smile.

Gabriella looked back at the man on the floor and for a moment, funny how her mother saw Troy the way everyone else did— tall, handsome, innocent guy next door with thick brown hair and a perfect smile— but it was a mirage, a fictional oasis that disappoints as she got closer and remembered that the image of this man belonged to a dangerous, whiskey drinking, kissing bandit.

"Having a case of the Mondays?" he asked, his tone suspicious of her inspection.

"Wouldn't you like to know." She muttered before urging her legs to propel her into the safety of the Livingroom.