Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3)

yet somehow it was marginally more easy to swallow than the idea that he’d already attempted to break in the night before, failed, and come back to try again.
That felt a lot more calculated. Pre-meditated.
Creepy.
After a moment, I gathered my voice and said, “It’s really quiet in here.”
Ronan looked at me. I wasn’t eating anymore, and he definitely noticed. Inconveniently, the man seemed to notice everything.
Including the fact that I was so distracted by him that I’d almost gotten us in a car accident this morning.
“You don’t like silence?” he asked.
“I can hear you chewing. It’s weird.”
“You prefer noise at all times?”
“Noise. Music. People. All of the above.”
“Sometimes silence can be good.”
“I guess,” I said, unconvinced.
“I noticed your music room isn’t soundproofed.”
I raised an eyebrow, daring him to complain about that. “No, it’s not.”
“Interesting, that you’d go to the expense of soundproofing the studio, when you live alone.”
“Was that a question?”
“I guess I’m wondering why you’d do that. Or if you’ve always lived here alone.”
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I’m not paid to miss much,” he said.
I started eating again in silence. But I could hear my chewing too, and it was weird. It wasn’t that silence made me uncomfortable; it was that when I felt uncomfortable, silence made it worse.
“Okay,” I said, “here’s the story. I bought this place just over three years ago. I was with someone at the time, and possibly optimistic that it might last. It didn’t. He was a mortgage broker who snorted coke at lunch meetings and started drinking at breakfast. I should’ve known it wasn’t gonna work out. But hey, love can be blind, right?”
Ronan didn’t say anything, but he was still watching me with those gorgeous, assessing eyes, so I went on.
“When I bought the house, I had a lot of renovations done, and I’d already started on the studio when we broke up. I decided to just keep going with the plans as they were, soundproofing and all.” I shrugged. “Maybe I figured some future boyfriend would appreciate it. I get loud when I’m in the zone.” I glanced at him. “It’s not entirely selfless, though. I practice my vocals down there. I hate people overhearing that.”
He considered that, the gears turning. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m self-conscious about my singing.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I thought about that. “Maybe because it’s organic? And when it comes out of my body and I’m just practicing, I’m not fixing it or enhancing it. It’s just me, I don’t know… naked.” I glanced at him again. I didn’t like admitting my weaknesses, but I could be humble. I couldn’t exactly pretend I was vocalist of the year when I was standing next to Ashley Player. “I’m not the world’s greatest vocalist. It’s something I’m working on.”
Ronan said nothing else, just listening.
“How did we get onto this?” I asked, with a small laugh. “I don’t usually talk much about my exes or my insecurities. What black magic have you cast?”
“It’s a rare gift,” he said. And there was that subtle, dry-as-hell sass again.
“Seriously. I don’t even want you here and you’re getting me to talk to you. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Actually, maybe it’s because you don’t say much. It makes me want to talk more than I already do, which is a lot.”
He said nothing.
I realized I hadn’t gotten us a drink, so I went to pour us each a glass of water. I put one in front of him. He nodded a thanks, since his mouth was full. His food was disappearing much faster than mine was.
I slid back onto my stool.
“So…” I said, when he remained silent. Because damn, it was true. His silence made me want to talk.
Was that a technique of his to extract information from me? Or was he really just a quiet guy?
“Are you always a man of such few words?”
“I like to think of myself as a man of well-chosen words.”
“Hmm. I don’t think I can live like this.”
He chuckled a little.
Holy shit. I’d just made the stoic bodyguard laugh. Barely, but still… A nice little shiver ran down my spine at that deep, alpha tone of his.
Encouraged, maybe, I pulled out my phone. “Would you like some music?”
“It’s your home. Like I told you, you’re not required to entertain me.”
“Humor me. Entertaining is what I do.”
“Music is fine,” he said.
“Music is better than fine,” I corrected him. “But I’ll take it.” I scrolled through some artists in my music app. “Now, to figure out what you like. Don’t tell me.” I studied him.
He stuffed his mouth with rice, like, I’m not telling you anything.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Please tell me you like music.”
“Everyone likes music.”
“You’d think that would be true, but there are some real weirdos in this world.”
He took a sip of water, and I couldn’t tell if maybe he was blocking another chuckle.
“Okay, let’s see. Security guy. Works out…” I looked him over gratuitously. “Dresses well. Was a real piece of shit in his younger days…”
“And where do you get that from?”
“Educated guess.”
He considered that. “How young are we talking?”
“Young. Like, you were an absolute nightmare in adolescence. But you chilled out when you hit adulthood. Am I right or what?”
He muttered, “You might actually be right,” and took another bite of food.
“I knew it. Likes good food. Likes a challenge. I mean, that much is obvious, given your line of work. Likes his women sexy, obviously. But also… smart,” I ventured. “And likes his music… hard, but not too heavy. I’m guessing you still like the stuff you listened to in those angry teenage years? Reminds you of a simpler time, when you were free to tell people to fuck off right to their face.”
He glanced at me, and there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.
“Hmm. How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Uh-huh.” I hit up Google. “And you know who was fucking huge… when you were seventeen? Ha. Got it.”
I put on 3 Doors Down, “Kryptonite.” And gauged his response.
“Did I nail it, or