Free Run to You by Clare Cole

Chapter One
     
    "I can't go to the Grammy Awards like this."
    I stood with my arms folded, looking into the full-length mirror across from me in the suite of the Beverly Hilton Hotel. My breasts were practically spilling out of the top of my dress, pushed up by my underwear beneath to form two alluring round peaks that may well have kept Rick happy all night but left nothing to the imagination.
    "Why?" Rick said, peering his head around the corner of the room and moving a toothbrush around his mouth. "I think you look sexy, baby."
    I rolled my eyes. "Because, Rick, of these," I replied, pointing two fingers at my heaving cleavage. "Can you imagine the headlines if I go out like this? 'Rick gets the Grammy – and two Golden Globes.'"
    "That's funny," he snorted, heading back into the bathroom.
    I let out a sigh and grabbed my smartphone. I shot off the text to Anita, my stylist, asking if my beautiful but slightly ill-fitting Marchesa dress could be altered. As I hit 'Send', I smiled to myself. Even now, just over 6 months into our relationship, I still couldn't believe this was happening – that this was my world.
    I was dating a rock star. Hell, it was much more than that. I was in love with a rock star. I'd gone from not being able to afford to keep my gas and electric on in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in London to zipping around the world at the drop of a hat in a private jet with one of the most recognisable men on the planet. We had managed to keep our relationship reasonably under wraps; Rick was fierce about maintaining his privacy and mine. But that can only happen for so long when you're as famous as Rick Borrell.
    His solo album had been a huge hit, spawning three top 10 hit singles in the US alone and charting in over 100 countries. Rick had decided not to tour with this album – this was, after all, the thing that would get him off the treadmill of spending life on the road. He'd had enough of that with his band, Beautiful Losers, and decided that he wanted to not only slow down things for himself a little but to also give our relationship time to breathe and to grow.
    Boy, did I love him for that.
    If that wasn't enough, one of the tracks on the album had been used as the theme song for a major new television show – one of those police procedural dramas full of dead bodies, lots of fake blood and gruesome autopsies. I was so proud the first time we switched it on to hear his track over the opening credits – but, like all those shows, I couldn't watch any more. Well, what's the point with a cushion in front of your face? I still got queasy at things like that. My life had become unrecognisable from where it had been half a year ago, but some things never change.
    "How do I look?"
    I turned to see Rick in an awesome vintage Hugo Boss suit. He looked every inch the swaggering, super-confident rock star and it was fantastic to see him in something other than faded jeans or a leather jacket for once.
    "Good enough to eat," I smiled, looking him up and down. I unzipped the back of my soon -to-be-adjusted dress and let it drop to the floor.
    "Wow," Rick gasped, holding his palms up. "Haven't we got hair and make-up people coming up in the next fifteen minutes?"
    "Hold your horses, cowboy," I laughed, grabbing a dressing gown. "As much as I'd love to get you out of that suit and into my panties, we haven't got time. Besides, there's always later."
    "Amy, something tells me we're both going to be absolutely wrecked once we've been to the aftershow party. Even incredibly charismatic and modest international superstars need to crash once in awhile, you know."
    I walked over to him and kissed his beautiful, soft, full lips. The scent of Davidoff aftershave sent a little tingle down my spine. "Who said anything about when we get back?" I grinned. "There are plenty of dark nooks and crannies in the Staples Center, aren't there?"
    He playfully slapped my ass. "You're a bad, bad girl, Miss Reid."
    "I know. And I like