Not Just Another Romance Novel by Lisa Suzanne Page A

would definitely have to mark in my notes that the rock star had a great sense of humor. “I love that story!”
    He chuckled. “So do I. The five of us laugh about it all the time, and I often wonder whatever happened to good old Mrs. Fuckwit.”
    “You should visit her. Tell her she inspired your band’s name.”
    He laughed. “I don’t think so, sweets.”
    Sweets ? I liked it. It was different.
    “So Mrs. Fuckwit’s a Bitch plays almost every night?”
    He nodded. “I never have Thursdays off, but Emerson’s closed for a private event.”
    “Lucky me,” I said.
    His fingers tightened over mine. “Lucky me.”
    I smiled up at him, and he stopped walking. He turned in toward me, his right hand still holding my left. His other hand came up, and I felt his fingertips graze my collarbone again, just like he had back in my apartment before we’d left. His hand came around the back of my neck, and I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. He let go of my hand and laced his arm around my waist as my hands came up to rest on his biceps.
    The moment was right. It was perfect. It was romantic and impulsive and sexy…everything Dax was.
    And then right there in the middle of the sidewalk, the very sexy Dax, a rock star so far out of my league that we weren’t even playing the same game, leaned down and pressed his lips softly to mine.
    Tingles shot through my chest and exploded out into my blood.
    It was just one soft, tender brush of his lips against my own, but it was one of those moments where time stood still, where everything around us faded and we were the only two people left on earth.
    And then everything turned back on, and he pulled back and my eyes opened. Our hands reconnected and we resumed our walk like he hadn’t just kissed me in the most earth-shattering moment of my life.
    Our conversation picked up where it left off, but my heart was definitely in a new place. Everything was slightly different, slightly shifted. Slightly brighter.
    We ended up at a candy shop, and Dax bought us a couple of chocolate covered strawberries. We sat at a table outside lit by candlelight and the soft glow of streetlights to enjoy our dessert and more conversation. And when I asked him what he thought of the most delicious chocolate strawberries I’d ever tasted, he just said they were “good.”
    This was such a normal date compared to the first two guys from my list. And I found myself more and more into him with every second we spent together.
    I learned about his band. He loved playing guitar, but as the lead vocalist, he tended to focus on vocals since there were five guys in the band. He only played guitar for a few songs during their set, and he admitted that guitar had always been his first passion.
    I found that interesting, but it was fascinating that he felt comfortable enough with me to admit something so personal so quickly.
    He asked me about my interests, and I admitted that aside from romance novels and psychology, I was pretty boring.
    So boring, in fact, that this date with this man had to be the most exciting thing I’d done in months. Maybe years.
    We were heading back to his car when he broke the possible awkward end to the date before it even came up. “You want to come back to my place for another drink?” His fingers were still twined through mine, and his voice held a hint of hope.
    There was not a chance in hell I would turn down that offer. “Sure.” I smiled up at him, and his eye caught mine. His gleamed dangerously, and once again I thought about how he could be the epic end of my project before I’d barely even gotten started.
    I was already addicted to the way his lips curled at the corners. I wanted them on mine again. On me again. Anywhere. And for a lot longer this time.
     
    * * *
     
    We pulled into the driveway of a modest two-story home. Two other cars were parked in the driveway—a beat-up older truck and a bright yellow Jeep—and a few cars were parked on the curb right