Free Rock All Night (The Rock Star's Seduction #2) by Olivia Thorne Page A

– simple, nothing grandiose, just the four of them. If they’d taken a thousand pictures that day, then the one they used for the cover was absolutely the best: a light moment, horsing around and laughing, shot from the waist up. Derek was in the front carrying Riley piggyback, liked she’d just jumped up there and was trying to bite his ear. They were both grinning, though Riley still looked pretty aggressive and definitely seemed intent on pulling a Mike Tyson/Evander Holyfield chompfest.
    Derek was in his Maui Jims. Riley’s mohawk was, for once, a solid platinum blonde. Off to the left, Killian and Ryan were both laughing and reacting in shock. It’s obvious the moment was a surprise to them, and that the photographer just happened to snap the picture at exactly the right second – like catching lightning in a bottle. The picture was lighthearted and spontaneous, and captured exactly what I’d seen at the Dubai: the bantering, the camaraderie, the ease and humor of the band. And Riley’s simmering punk menace, of course.
    Most bands’ publicity photos show the members being super-serious. They always seem to scream, ‘We are Musicians! We are ARTISTS! WE ARE IMPORTANT!’ And if the band members are instead being lighthearted and playful, it always seems staged and fake. But the cover of Bigger Is Better was effortless, effervescent, and funny. Joyful, even.
    And whoever the tattoo artist was, they had captured that perfectly.
    It was a black-and-white reproduction of the cover, just the four band members – and it was like someone had somehow printed a hi-def scan directly from a computer onto Derek’s skin, and yet still infused the image with life. Derek already had a black-and-white tattoo of Jim Morrison, the famous pose of him shirtless and staring into the camera; that one was amazing, but this one was flawless. It was beautiful.
    And for once, I didn’t have a problem keeping my eyes off his ass.
    “Wow,” was all I could say.
    “I know, right?” Derek said happily. “The guy who did it is out of New York – he’s a fucking artist. Best in the world, in my opinion. Cost me $20,000 and took 36 hours for that tattoo – nine four-hour sessions – but it was worth every penny. And every second.”
    Then he turned back around to face me full-on.
    I willed myself – I forced myself – not to look down.
    I kind of succeeded. I only dropped my gaze as low as his chest before I snapped back up to his eyes.
    But I could still see out of the bottom of my field of vision that his cock had only gotten bigger, and was now jutting out from his body, parallel with the floor – and still growing and angling upwards.
    I stared into his eyes like my life depended on it.
    He was grinning like he was having the time of his life. “So… you gonna start the interview?”
    “Uhhhh… yeah.”
    I just stood there stupidly, though, unable to think of a single thing besides Oh my GOD it’s getting BIGGER…
    That, and trying to tamp down my overwhelming desire to reach out and touch it.
    Derek pointed at the purse slung over my shoulder. “You going to get your little recorder thing?”
    “Uhhhh… yeah.” I reached down blindly, fumbling with the clasp, determined not to look away from his eyes. His eyes were dangerous enough as is, but anything else was deadly.
    The clasp was snagged or something. But I refused to look at it.
    Derek was going to start laughing at any second, I could see it in his face. He took a step forward – Jesus, another few inches and his cock was going to brush up against my leg – and reached down for my purse. “Do you want me to – ”
    “NO, I GOT it,” I said, stepped back a good two feet, turned away, and looked down. I opened the purse up, got out the Zoom recorder Ryan had given me, and pressed the button twice until I got the red light.
    Then I turned around, careful not to look down, and held out the Zoom so that it blocked my vision of what was between his