Snow Storms: A Wish on a Rock Star by Gillis Lisa

Author:Gillis, Lisa [Gillis, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Music, Contemporary
Goodreads: 25632581
Publisher: Rock Star Reads
Published: 2013-11-24T08:00:00+00:00

♪♫¨♫♪

They cleared the dishes after Tristan devoured his hamburger. Next, they filed upstairs for their showers and bed to follow. Jack detoured into Tristan’s bathroom to make sure he had clean towels, and then joined her just as she was relaxing under the spray of theirs. His eyes burned down her body before he tilted his head back letting the water soak his hair and face.

Pausing with shampoo pooled in her hand, she watched this spectacular display. Instead of soaping her own head, her hands rose, almost on their own. Forking her fingers through thick dark wet hair to his scalp, she watched the suds form. A sound of satisfaction rumbled from his lips, and he dropped to a sitting position to give her easier access.

She wanted to apologize, for the hundredth time, for first keeping her pregnancy, and then keeping Tristan a secret until forced by circumstances to tell him of his son. She could not believe that Tristan had doubted even for a only few weeks that Jack was his father. However, Jack had reached a point and became firm anytime she had let an apology slip.

He didn’t want to hear it. She wasn’t to blame. What was done, was done. The memories of these sweet words meant to assuage her guilt swirled in her head and kept her silent. Instead, her fingers lovingly massaged his scalp.

Jack nuzzled his lips against her skin, pressing his kisses to her. As his attention grew more heated, she dropped her hands to rest on his shoulders with a blissful sigh. With one last tease of his tongue, he stood, and tipped his head back. As the soap streamed down his body and swirled at the drain, she hurriedly washed her own hair.

Her eyes closed as, with a loll of her head, she guided the spray over her hairline. Jack’s hands gliding up her torso were not unexpected, and she savored the feel of the guitar calloused friction on smooth sensitive skin.

With a nip at her ear, he whispered, “I’m going to read the boy a story.”

A slight draft hit her skin when he pushed the glass open, and she called, “Don’t forget his snack. I was going to make him a smoothie since we just finished eating...”

The glass cracked back open, and his eyes gleamed hopefully. “Make me one too while you are making?”

Slinging the suds from the loofa his way, she resounded when the glass clicked closed. “I will. Just get his stories read.”

“I was joking, Mariss. I will make them. You want one?”

“Really,” she insisted. “Just get the reading done. And I will do it.”

Through the glass, she watched as the towel glided over lean muscles, colorful arms, and he turned with a confident grin. “In a hurry?”

“Hell yeah...”

“Fine. Take kitchen duty then. But can we have chocolate shakes instead of smoothies?”

“Do we even have chocolate ice cream?”

“We have chocolate syrup.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Magically freeze the milk?”

“We have ice cream, Mariss. It’s in the outside freezer.

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