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  Rock Free

  (Rock Candy Series, Book Six)

  Virna DePaul

  Copyright © 2018 by Virna DePaul

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Description

  More From Virna DePaul

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Hard Time Excerpt: Prologue

  Hard Time Excerpt: Ch 1

  Get Hard Time

  Books by Virna

  About the Author

  Description

  Point Break’s lead guitarist, Wes Shaw, is all about living free—free career choices, free to do as he pleases, free love. As the band’s remaining bachelor, he gets his pick of women and men. But when Wes gets stuck in an elevator with a gorgeous, innocent vixen ready to test her wild side, everything changes.

  Sara Crawford is the daughter of a famous TV evangelist getting to know her true self in New York City. Normally, she hides her passionate nature, but when she’s trapped with her favorite rock guitarist, she finds a sensual way to keep her mind off her claustrophobia.

  The moment they’re rescued from the elevator, however, Sara flees. Normally, Wes would move on, but now that he’s met Sara? He can’t let go. Can Wes convince Sara that she rocks a part of him he never knew existed? And will Sara risk alienating her family to stand by her bad boy’s side forever?

  More From Virna DePaul

  BAD BOY DOCTORS SERIES

  KISS TALENT AGENCY SERIES

  HARD AS NAILS SERIES

  GOING DEEP SERIES

  BEDDING THE BACHELORS SERIES

  HOME TO GREEN VALLEY SERIES

  ROCK CANDY SERIES

  THE PARA-OPS PARANORMAL SERIES

  His Royal Hotness (A Royally Hot Romance)

  Seal of A Lifetime

  Chapter 1

  Wes

  As the lead guitarist for one of the country’s hottest rock bands, I’d met plenty of gorgeous women, but the one standing in front of the elevator was definitely the cream of the crop. Close to six feet tall in spiked heels, her long legs stretched out for miles under her black miniskirt. Creamy, pale skin, highlighted by a few freckles here and there showcased her auburn hair, half-tucked into an oversized red hoodie. Pouty, full lips and rounded breasts molded by a black T-shirt set my imagination on fire, but the most riveting thing about her were her eyes—bright green, glittering precious stones.

  Earlier, I’d snuck away from our post-show meet n’ greet and headed for the venue’s service elevator to take me to our limos. Usually I liked to stay and check out the fans, hook up with a willing one, but not tonight. I had a lot on my mind, including the rock video we were planning to shoot.

  Bands had been making “rockumentaries” for years—U2’s Rattle and Hum was the first one I’d ever seen, and that had been filmed back in the late ’80s. Now our record label was after us to do the same. I’d been running over several ideas for scenes in my head, but thoughts about the movie fled my mind as soon as I turned the corner and saw the girl in the red hoodie. She must have ducked out through an emergency exit in the venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of Point Break’s band members.

  If so, she was in luck.

  Still, after a quick glance my way, she didn’t gush or fawn the way I’d been expecting. Instead, she stared straight ahead. When the elevator doors opened, she stepped inside, and I slid in right beside her. “Going down?” I asked. When she gave me a tight nod, I pressed the button for the ground floor and smiled.

  And waited.

  I’d changed out of my concert clothes, and in a white T-shirt and jeans, with no stage makeup on, I looked a lot different than I had a half hour ago onstage. Didn’t matter. Fans usually had no problem identifying me. An occupational hazard you could call it, or a perk, depending on the situation. Still, I always made it a point to never forget how it feels to be a fan.

  Finally, the girl glanced at me again, then instantly bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. Almost immediately, however, her gaze roved up the length of my thigh. Her mouth relaxed and opened slightly, and I knew—whether she recognized me or not, she was attracted to me. She seemed reserved, yes, but then she looked up and smiled. Waiting for me to make a move, I figured, but she wasn’t acting coy, just…shy. I liked that.

  I held out my hand. “Hi. I’m Wes.”

  “I know who you are,” she said. A blush spread across her cheeks and she groaned. “I mean, hi, my name’s Sara.” We shook hands, and I was just marveling at how soft her skin felt when she let go. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a complete dork, especially considering I already look like one.” She tugged at her oversized red hoodie. I studied it, realizing the hoodie was actually a cape. Intriguing. Most of the fans at the small, exclusive concert tonight had worn halter tops or belly shirts. Sara looked like she’d wandered out of a cosplay convention dressed as a naughty Little Red Riding Hood, and damn, she owned the look.

  “You come across just fine,” I said, taking in her strong and curvy body. More than fine, actually. Push-her-against-a-wall-and-find-out-what-she’s-all-about kind of fine. She caught me checking her out and her blush grew more intense, making her cheeks almost as red as her cape. Totally adorable.

  “Um, thanks?” she said. Then she rolled her eyes at herself again, and when I chuckled, she laughed.

  “So Sara, is this your first Point Break concert?”

  She shook her head and pulled a face. “I may have to drop out of college because of you guys. I used most of my final semester’s books and supplies budget to get tickets for this ‘intimate event’ thing. I’ll be eating ramen noodles for weeks.”

  I winced. Yeah, the tickets had definitely been pricey, especially for a college student on a limited budget. She’d said “final semester,” though, so I figured she was at least twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. Fantastic. “I hope getting an advanced preview of our new songs was worth it.”

  Her eyes lit up. “The concert was amazing! In fact—”

  The elevator groaned, then shook like a dragon coughing up a lung, sending us stumbling. I grabbed onto the rail, and when the elevator lurched again, Sara fell against me. I caught her with my free arm and held her tight.

  A loud screech sounded as metal ground on metal and then the whole elevator came to a dead stop. Keeping one arm around her, I reached out and jabbed at the buttons. The elevator didn’t move.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I murmured into Sara’s soft and sweet smelling hair. I was thrilled when she didn’t pull away, but my thrill slacked when I realized her fingers were digging into my sides. The girl was freaked.

  “We’re stuck,” she said, her voice shaky.

  “Yep. Between floors two and three. Give me a second. Just need to use the Emergency button to call for help.” I pressed the button and didn’t hear a response. I didn’t let go of Sara, who still clung to me like a long, tall limpet. Damn, she smelled great, although I couldn’t place the scent. With my other hand I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked cell serv
ice. Nope. Nada.

  I didn’t tell Sara I had no cell service and instead texted Liam, Point Break’s singer and the band member who checked his phone most often. Maybe a text could go through even if a phone call couldn’t; Sara needed to know I was doing all I could. I thumb-typed, “stuck in service elevator—call 4 help,” hit SEND, then stuffed the phone back in my pocket.

  “There. I texted for help. I’m sure someone will be along any minute. Got anywhere to be?” I asked, trying to make conversation to keep her mind off the fact that we were stuck.

  She shook her head and stepped out of my arms. Weird how reluctant I was to let her go.

  “Me, either,” I said. It wasn’t like my bandmates were waiting for me. As soon as the meet n’ greet was over, the guys would likely end up hanging out with their girlfriends. Liam, Tucker, and Corbin had all found their “special someone” over the last year.

  It had all started with Liam and Abby, our background cellist. They’d had a rocky start but were in it for the long haul. In fact, I’d recently noticed Liam scoping rings on the sly on his laptop. But he’d just been the start.

  Tucker had found himself Nikki, a tempestuous couture shoe designer, in Paris. She’d had some issues but got through rehab and found a more balanced but still plenty wild life with Tucker, who I never imagined would ever settle down. With a nickname like Tucker the Fucker, who would?

  Even our bassist, Corbin, had recently flown out his girlfriend, Aimee Bodine, who ran a restaurant in New Orleans. They’d met most recently, when Corbin went on the road to play small clubs and ended up in Point Maison, Louisiana, of all places. Aimee was currently on break, enjoying the Big Apple with Point Break as her guide.

  So, yeah, all my friends had found the women of their dreams. Me, I was fine being alone, although Ben—my best friend from high school and my hookup for most of the last two tours—had recently broached the idea of us being exclusive.

  I’d known immediately it wasn’t what I wanted.

  I loved him. As a friend. As a lover, too.

  But he didn’t fill any burning need inside of me. He was just…Ben.

  I hadn’t told him that, but I hadn’t lied, either. I’d told him I needed time to think on it. I’d reassured him this wasn’t because I was still not “out”—hell, not even my bandmates knew I was bi. Well, maybe Liam did, because he’d walked in on Ben and me during a drunken stupor, but he hadn’t said anything. Still, I didn’t feel like I was keeping my sexuality top secret. I’d had a few casual hook-ups with guys, and any one of them could out me at any time. Like Liam, they’d kept the info to themselves, otherwise it would have made the press by now. And it wasn’t anyone’s business. As far as I was concerned, there was no reason to publicly announce my sexual preferences to the world any more than there was for anyone else.

  I jabbed at the red button on the emergency phone a few more times.

  “Emergency,” a voice finally rang out in the stillness of the elevator.

  “Hi, we’re stuck in the service elevator at Hell’s Bells,” I said, rattling off the cross streets.

  “We’ll send someone right out. Happens all the time.”

  Really? I barely refrained from saying they should probably fix the damn thing. “How long?” I asked.

  “Usually takes the fire department twenty minutes.”

  Sara made a small noise and I turned back to her. She was pale and shaking, her eyes lit with panic.

  “Can you get someone out here faster?” I snapped.

  “Anyone bleeding profusely? Having a heart attack? In labor?” When I grunted no, the operator added, “Standard response time for a stuck elevator in this part of town. Hold tight. Call back if there’s a medical emergency.” The call ended.

  “Hey, it’s all right. Are you okay?” I patted her back, rubbing her shoulders as best as I could. With her height, we were eye-level.

  She moaned and shook her head. Then she half-laughed, half-cried. “I feel so stupid. It’s just, I’ve always been claustrophobic, so this is freaking me out.” Her hands were balled into fists, her arms straight by her sides. Tension practically radiated from her shoulders, which were growing stiffer under my hands as she spoke.

  “It’s fine. They’ll get us out soon. Like the guy said, this happens all the time.”

  “Yeah, but maybe this time they won’t be able to get us out. There’s always a first time.” Her voice went up an octave and tremors ran through her body. She was panicking.

  “Won’t ever happen.” She moved closer to me, as if needing comfort, and I put my arm around her again. “Look at me. Only at me.” I tilted her chin up, encouraging her gorgeous emerald eyes to meet mine.

  She shivered once more, then took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, her voice trembling. But she connected her gaze to mine, and stayed steady.

  “Okay,” I echoed, then asked, “What’s your favorite Point Break song?”

  Her brow furrowed. “What?”

  “Your favorite Point Break song. Which one is it?”

  “Oh. Um… ‘Into Darkness.’ It reminds me of…” She trailed off, averting her gaze. Her breathing still was light and shallow.

  I tipped her chin back up. “Of what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ve known you all of two minutes and I can already tell it’s not ‘nothing.’”

  She gave a wry smile and flicked her gaze back up to my face. “Of my family and our situation.”

  I didn’t know what her family or their situation were, but if I could help her stay chill for the next twenty minutes, that was all I cared about. “All right…” I took a deep breath and found the lyrics in my mind. “Sometimes I see her, and sometimes I cry…” As I sang, Sara’s breathing calmed and her expression softened.

  “Sometimes my dreams won’t let me say goodbye…”

  Her lips moved in sync with mine as I sang the next verse. She was getting her own personal concert, something I’d never done for any groupie. But I felt more than okay doing it for her. I didn’t just want Sara to be less fearful right now. I wanted her to feel happy.

  Happy she’d met me.

  Suddenly, getting stuck in an elevator didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world.

  “Into darkness I fall, into darkness I aim, never knowing at all if I’ll ever see you again…”

  We sang together, a great melody written by my buddy, Liam, and smiled as we did. Sara stared deeply into my eyes.

  “Wow. Your eyes really are gray,” she said when we came to the bridge in the song.

  “They really are.” I opened my eyes wide for her.

  “Damn, I owe my roommate ten bucks.” She laughed, another good sign she was feeling better. “I told Kass that if I could get close enough to you, I’d find out. Never thought I’d get stuck in an elevator and get this close.”

  “And yet, here we are.”

  “Here we are.”

  The tension between us resembled a taut rubber band. One bounce and we’d snap. Too bad the rescue people were on their way.

  “Are they contacts?” she asked. She shifted, and her hips brushed mine.

  “Nah, been this shade my entire life,” I said, squeezing her shoulders and brushing her hair back. Her body felt warm and so good in my arms.

  “What else do they say about you that’s true?” She gave me a mischievous look.

  My body reacted, wanting a deeper intimacy with her, and things got hard—real hard. “Depends what they say,” I replied, giving her a wink. She giggled, and I asked softly, “Feeling better?” God, I wanted this girl. Right here in the elevator would be great, too. Those lips and fuck-me green eyes…

  She nodded and bit her lip. “Yeah. One time,” she continued, “when I was a kid, I got locked in my dad’s bathroom at the office. I couldn’t open the door and started screaming. He came and got me out, but people were staring and laughing at me afterward. I always feel stupid when I freak out like this.”

  For a woman as
gorgeous as her, she seemed lacking self-confidence. What had happened in her life to make her think she was stupid in any way? “You’re not stupid,” I said. “You’re beautiful, sexy as hell, and—”

  The elevator shook again. Sara stiffened, gripping my arms. On one hand, I wanted the service people to arrive already so Sara didn’t have to feel so miserable. But on the other hand, I enjoyed having her in my arms.

  “…and I’m concerned for your welfare,” I finished. “Hey, you want to hear a song we’re just now working on? Brand-new, not yet released?”

  She didn’t respond, and under my hands, I could feel her quivering. The pupils in her eyes had gone so wide I could barely make out the green.

  “Tell you what,” I said, thinking quickly. “I’ll sing the song and we’ll slow dance. Like at middle school dances.” I took her stiff arms and draped them over my shoulders, then put my hands on her hips. She didn’t pull away.

  I started singing again, a ballad Tucker had helped write for Nikki, his one true love, called “Parisian Love.” I shuffled us around in a circle, the way I recalled dancing back in school, and Sara followed, slowly relaxing and swaying to the rhythm of the song I sang. Even though the song wasn’t about Sara, for the moment it felt like it was, like we were floating down the Seine under the moonlight