Suddenly Famous: A Famous Novella (Famous Series Book 5) Page 4

  Who is this guy?

  I carefully extract myself from the couch, making sure not to disturb Leah, and pad into my bedroom. After using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I take off my jeans and moan at the glorious release of my dick from the tight, unforgiving denim. An old pair of sweats is lying on the bed, so I slip those on and head into the kitchen to make coffee. Leah owns a coffee shop. I remember her saying that, so I’m fairly certain she’ll want a cup when she wakes.

  By the time Leah joins me, I’m on my second cup of coffee and have answered most of my emails.

  “Hey, I’ll get you a cup?”

  “That would be great, thank you.” She takes a seat at my kitchen table, a modern design with a steel pedestal and a deep aqua, round glass top.

  “Cream and sugar?” I look over my shoulder as I wait for her answer.

  “Both please.”

  “Here you go.” I place the mug in front of her and she immediately takes a long sip.

  “This is really good, Ry,” she says, taking another sip.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, considering you own a coffee shop.” Taking the seat next to Leah, I grin and she raises an eyebrow at me. “What? You thought I wasn’t listening when you told me?”

  “Well… kind of. I mean, no. Not that you weren’t listening to me. It’s just that, well… it was a few weeks ago. I didn’t know if you’d remember.” Pink slashes of color appear on her cheeks and she drops her gaze to the table.

  Fuck that’s sexy.

  Damn. Sweatpants were a bad call. Now I can’t get up from the table unless I want her to see a tent in my pants.

  I reach out and take her chin with my thumb and forefinger, gently tugging it until I can see her eyes. They’re turquoise today, almost the same color as my table. Leaning in close, I whisper, “I remember everything you say.”

  I can hear her breath catch and liquid heat spreads down my spine, collecting in my groin.

  As my mouth closes over hers and I taste her sweet lips, it occurs to me that this is the first day since the incident that I haven’t obsessed over it. It hasn’t even crossed my mind, not one single time.

  Maybe I’ve found my cure.

  Chapter 7

  Leah left right after breakfast this morning. She said she’s been gone from work for a while and has to stop by to make sure everything is running okay. Plus, she wants to run by Sydney’s place for a visit.

  That leaves me with the rest of the afternoon to myself while I wait for her to call. She was so cute when she asked me if I wanted to come to her apartment for dinner. Bold, confident Leah was back. She probably just needed to get away from the hospital in L.A. and get a good night’s sleep. I know exactly how that feels.

  Bored, I think about who I know that’s in New York right now. Declan and Lilly are in L.A. and so is most of my family. Brittany is going to the Hamptons for the weekend with some of the other girls that live in her apartment building.

  Britt’s lucky. She can meet people and become friends. I pretty much have to stick to crewmembers and other celebrities for friendship. No way do I want to chance meeting some closet psycho who stabs me in my sleep.

  Then it hits me. Adam Reynolds lives in New York. Or at least has been staying in New York recently. That’s what he told me the last time I saw him. Only one way to find out. I pull up his contact info and shoot him a text.

  Me

  I grab the remote for the television and flip through the sports networks, stopping on a basketball summary program. The sportscasters are halfway through their predictions for the weekend when my phone buzzes.

  Adam

  I hurry and type a response.

  Me

  God, I feel like an idiot setting up a ‘date’ with a dude. I have to get out of this apartment though, so I need to suck it up and stop being such a baby.

  Adam

  Me

  Adam < 2pm at the bowling alley. Rented entire place>

  I didn’t realize how tense I was until Adam mentions that we’ll have the entire bowling alley to ourselves. No fans, no outsiders allowed. I check the time. It’s just about one, which gives me plenty of time to get there.

  Me

  Adam

  Chelsea Piers is enormous. It must span seven or eight city blocks, not including the massive piers that jut out into the Hudson River. I step out of the cab and pull my hat down low, pushing my new, non-prescription, thick black-framed glasses up on my nose, praying that nobody notices me.

  I duck inside the sports complex and follow the signs to Bowlmor, practically jogging to get there undetected. By the time I walk up to the doors of the bowling alley, I’m breathing heavily, partially from running the whole way, partially from panic at being so exposed.

  The big guy at the door nods when he sees me coming and lets me pass. I shot Adam a text from the cab so he would know what I was wearing and when to expect me, and he must have told security.

  “This place is unreal!” I call out to the four men who are hanging out in front of one of the lanes, beers in hand.

  “Ryker! Come meet my mates.” Adam greets me warmly and shakes my hand. “Everyone, this is Ryker Bancroft. Ry, this is Dex, Gavin, and Hawke, my band mates.”

  While we all shake hands, a beer ends up in my possession.

  “We haven’t started yet,” Dex says in a heavy British accent. “Are you any good at this game?” He arches an eyebrow at me expectantly.

  “Ummmm, no. I don’t bowl much,” I admit.

  “Good!” He slaps my back with one of his huge hands, pitching me forward, nearly spilling my beer. “Neither do we.”

  Gavin punches everyone’s names into the computer and grabs a ball. “Ready?” he asks, giving each one of us a teasing stare, “because I’m going to kick your pathetic asses!”

  Everyone laughs and trash talks while we bowl several games and watch sports on the big screens.

  I sit next to Adam on one of the thick leather chairs. Leather chairs, in a bowling alley! “So, you’re coming with us next month? To England?”

  “Yep. Need to get my inspiration from somewhere,” Adam says with a smile.

  “Well, I hope you like desperate, screaming women clawing at you, because that’s what you get if you hang around me for very long.” I can’t help the bitterness that creeps into my words. Frowning, I take a long sip of my beer.

  Adam shrugs casually, “Not a problem.”

  He really has no idea. Anxiety starts to unfurl in my belly so I change the subject. “I saw you talking with Leah at the Verve party. You know her?”

  Adam freezes, beer halfway to his mouth. He lowers it slowly before answering. “Yeah, I know her. From her café.”

  “Oh, right. What about Sydney? How do you know her?”

  My question causes Adam’s face to blanch. “Right, Sydney. I met her at the café as well.”

  “Leah’s been pretty broken up about what happened to her… with the stalker.” Why am I talking about this? It’s only going to stress me the fuck out!

  “Yeah,” he says, his tone gruff. “I called her while she was still in hospital. Says she’s fine.” He waves his free hand in a motion that implies he doesn’t believe Sydney. “That was fucking sick what that bastard did to her.”

  I watch, fascinated, as Adam Reynolds, one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, twists his face into a very scary grimace.

  “You should go see her then, if you’re worried. Leah said she’s back in New York.”

  If I didn’t see it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it, but Adam’s face gets even darker. He looks positively menacing.

  “Nah. Can’t. Her boyfriend is the biggest tosser I’ve ever met. Won’t let me near her,” he snarls.

  Before I can ask anything else, one of Adam’s band mates calls over to us. “It’s your turn Bancroft
! Don’t make us wait!”

  We get up and go back to our lane, neither of us saying a word about what just happened. Four games and several beers later, I’ve completely forgotten that the conversation even took place.

  I’m just getting into a cab in front of the sports complex when Leah calls.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Nothing. We still on for tonight?” she asks.

  “Sure. In fact, I’m already at Chelsea Piers. Want me to come straight over?”

  “Yay! That’s only a few minutes away from my place.” Leah gives me her address, which I relay to the cab driver.

  “Great, see you in a few.” I relax back into the seat and enjoy the short ride, thinking of all the things I’d like to do with Leah when I get there.

  “Here you go,” the cabbie says. “Twenty-five dollars.”

  I hand him a fifty and get out, feeling incredible. Today was fun, and tonight will only get better. Except I step out of the cab and right into a group of teenaged girls.

  The screaming starts in less than five seconds.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

  “No way!”

  “Ryker I love you!”

  “Aaaahhhhhhh!”

  Their hands dart out, wanting to touch me, and I freak the fuck out.

  Shit! I had to get out of the cab on the opposite side of the street from Leah’s because of all of the traffic. Cringing, I duck my head and speed walk towards the corner, which is still a good hundred yards away. The screams of the girls who noticed me are attracting attention from passers-by. Now there’s a good thirty or forty females crowding tightly around me, each one touching and wailing and making my head hurt.

  I’m going to fucking die on this sidewalk, I know it.

  The whooshing of blood behind my ears nearly drowns out the hysterical screams. That damn steel noose has slipped down over my neck and is starting to cinch tight. My breathing becomes more and more shallow with each flailing grope of my body. The stench of their desperation combined with dozens of types of perfume practically chokes me.

  “Please, stop touching me,” I beg, my voice barely a whisper because I can’t fucking breathe.

  I look up to see the street corner is far enough away that it may as well be on another continent. I’ll never make it there in one piece. The women are packed so tightly around me that I can hardly walk. Their elbows jostling my ribs and their feet stepping on mine.

  As a last ditch effort to get the hell out of this mess, I see a sliver of an opening in the crowd and take it. I shove two shocked women aside and dart into the street, speeding into a full-out sprint once I’m clear. It’s insane, with the amount of traffic zipping by, but I have no other choice unless I want to be crushed to death by fans. My shoes pound against the asphalt while my heart pounds out an erratic rhythm against my ribs. The familiar band gets tighter and tighter around my chest with each hasty step.

  My breath catches in my throat, making it just far enough into my lungs to keep my head clear. I take a chance and peek over my shoulder to see if anyone was brave enough to follow me into the street. Sure enough, a few daring women did, but not nearly as many as I left on the sidewalk. By the time I swing my head forward, it’s too late to stop for the car that’s barreling down on me.

  The driver slams on the breaks, locking the wheels. A long, high-pitched screech tears out of the smoking tires and the back end of the sedan fishtails before righting itself. The acrid scent of rubber and brake fluid burns my nostrils. About one second before impact, I throw myself forward and fall to the ground, the air in my lungs punching out with a whoosh. My teeth snap together painfully as the palms of my hands and my knees take the brunt of the landing.

  The bumper of the car missed me by less than a foot.

  Motherfucker!

  My heart is thrumming and my body is trembling all over, but I put it back into high gear and scramble the rest of the way across the street. Leah’s doorman must have been watching the entire scene play out, because he holds the door open for me, slams it shut, and locks it behind me.

  Inside, it takes more strength than I thought possible to keep from collapsing on the floor of Leah’s lobby. My legs are shaking so badly that I have to lean against the cold marble wall for support. I bend over and put my hands on my knees, gasping for air, and start to count to try and relieve the pressure on my chest.

  One, two, three… it takes until fifteen before I can stand back up without feeling dizzy and nauseous.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bancroft?”

  I manage not to flinch at the sound of my name being spoken by Leah’s doorman. “Yes?”

  “Would you like me to call the police, sir? That… well,” he shifts awkwardly as he tries to come up with the correct words to describe the chaos he witnessed, “that was just…”

  I find a nametag on his dark jacket, “Gino, is it?” He nods. I point outside where crying women have grouped under the awning in front of the building, smashing their hands against the glass. “That is my life. Every single day. No,” I say wearily, running my hand through my sweat-slicked hair, “don’t bother calling anyone. I’m going upstairs now. Will you let Leah know that I’m on my way up?”

  Gino can’t hide the look of shock on his face, but he does as I ask and doesn’t push me to call the police. “Yes sir. No problem.”

  “Thanks.” I push off of the wall and head for the elevators.

  “Oh my God, Ryker!” Leah comes flying out of her apartment the second I step off onto her floor. She’s a whirlwind of activity, talking non-stop while running her hands all over me to make sure I’m okay. The minute she touches me, the tense knots of stress begin to unwind.

  Leah shuts the door behind us, gently shoving me towards a couch. “Go sit. I’ll get you something to drink.” She stalks off. I can hear her muttering under her breath. Something that apparently involves a lot of cursing.

  I close my eyes and lean back on the soft cushions, suddenly feeling incredibly drained.

  “Here, drink some Gatorade.” Leah sits and runs her fingers through my hair while I down half the bottle. Her touch feels so good I lean into her hand and I may or may not let out a moan.

  “Jesus, Ry. You’re bleeding.” She grabs my free hand and flips it over to inspect my palm. The heel has deep scrapes in it, bits of dirt and asphalt stuck in places.

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” I put the bottle of Gatorade down on the coffee table and look at my other hand only to find the same scrapes. I frown at the injuries.

  “Fucking psychos. Wait here.” Leah gets up from the couch again, her blonde ponytail bobbing behind her as she disappears down a hallway.

  I hadn’t realized I closed my eyes again until the cushion next to me sags down. Leah carefully picks up one of my hands. “I have to clean it up, or those bits of gravel will stay under your skin as it heals. It’s called road rash…” She continues chatting as she wipes my palms down with a cotton ball soaked in something cold, then squirts a good amount of ointment onto each one and covers them with large bandages.

  Leah is still talking a mile a minute after finishing up with my hands. I smile, realizing that this is her way of coping with stress. She’s such a take-charge, fearless kind of girl, that it’s cute to watch her babble nervously on and on about nothing.

  “Hey,” I interrupt Leah’s chattering and wrap my hands around hers, bringing them to my lips. Brushing small kisses over her knuckles, I murmur, “Thanks for taking care of me.”

  “God, you could have been killed Ryker. Gino told me what…”

  “Shhhh, I don’t want to talk about that. Not right now.”

  I continue to place small kisses on her hands, sliding further up to her wrist. When I open my mouth and scrape my teeth over the sensitive skin there, her breath hitches. I watch, fascinated, as her eyes turn from worried to lustful. The bright blue irises become small slivers as her pupils enlarge with desire.

  Leah shudders as I take her other wrist and repeat m
y actions, licking and biting and kissing my way to her elbow. When she whispers my name, it becomes too much and I fall off of the wire I’ve been precariously balanced on.

  After everything that happened today, everything that happened with Leah’s friend Sydney, all of the anxiety and fear and stress I’ve had, right now I need to lose myself, and losing myself in Leah sounds like heaven.

  Gently, almost reverently, I reach out and brush my thumb over her lower lip. Leah gasps softly, those perfect pink lips part, and her eyes flutter closed. I slide my hand behind her neck and lean in, scraping my mouth over hers gently, reverently. Teasing her, I nip and suck on those soft lips until she’s writhing. And me? I’m desperate for more… more kisses, more skin, more hands… more Leah.

  Shifting forward, I lean over her until she’s lying on the couch and I’m on top, using my elbows to hold up my weight. Leah is so strong and vibrant, but physically, she’s so small I’m afraid of crushing her. Giving in to my own fierce need, I capture her mouth once more, thrusting my tongue in roughly, tasting and exploring, our teeth clashing as we devour each other.

  My cock is begging to be let out, to plunge deep inside Leah and pound away until it finds that sweet release. I ignore the twinge of pain from being trapped by my clothes, determined to go slow. Since my life changed so suddenly a year and a half ago, I haven’t found anyone who can calm my demons, who can let me be myself. No anxiety, no iron band around my chest, no noose tightening on my neck… I can just feel. And fuck, she feels good.

  “Ry,” Leah whispers as I lick and bite the soft skin of her neck.

  “Yeah,” I breathe into her ear, running my tongue back down to her collarbone.

  “Bedroom.”

  I stop what I’m doing, bringing my face back up to hers, staring into those lust-filled blue eyes, her pupils blown and glazed over. “Are you sure?” I don’t move an inch, wanting her answer to be based on careful thought, not carnal need. No regrets, that’s what I want from her.