Muses and Melodies (Hush Note Book 3)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “There’s a meeting added before tomorrow’s show, but I didn’t put it there. This is why I keep my own planner.” She shook her head. “So, someone took the guitars you tossed out like trash? Shocking.”

  “Right.” Despite my current lack of guitars, I almost laughed. She’d managed to throw sass at me without so much as looking in my direction. Even her profile was beautiful. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a knot, exposing the long lines of her neck and the stubborn set of her chin. “Unless you think the bears—”

  Now she shot some side-eye my way.

  “No? Okay. Then yes, someone took the guitars I tossed out like trash.” I repeated her words verbatim, minus her sarcastic tone.

  “Now I have to call the office as soon as it opens,” she grumbled.

  “I know. And…I’m sorry. Someone will have to go to my place and get at least four guitars from my studio. I’ll have to juggle and retune a few while Jonas does the whole introduce the band thing he loves to do after the second set, but I can do it with four.” I scratched the three-day scruff I had growing on my face.

  “I have to call the office for the appointment, not the guitars,” Zoe corrected me, then sipped her coffee.

  “I know you’re pissed at me, but please don’t tell me you expect me to play some off-the-rack instrument tomorrow.” Because that wasn’t happening.

  “Your guitars are in my room.” She opened her email on her phone and flipped through.

  “What?” I put my mug on the counter.

  “You heard me. Your guitars are in my room, but you’re not getting the acoustic back until I’m sure you won’t set it on fire. Oh, good. The plane will be ready for us any time after three. I know you want to spend as little time in Vegas as possible, but any later than that and you won’t be able to make it to dinner with Jonas and Quinn.”

  She’d gone out there last night and brought the guitars back. Apparently, she’d rescued the acoustic before I even had the chance to haul it out with the others, which showed exactly how messed up my thinking had been last night. My chest tightened as my emotions bounced between relief, gratitude, and more than a little shame. This was yet another one of my messes she’d had to clean up. She’d known I’d regret my tantrum this morning and sheltered me from the consequences.

  I turned her head as I cupped the back of her neck, then kissed her. It was chaste—I kept my tongue behind my teeth—but I put every ounce of my gratitude into it before pulling away slowly. Need flared, shooting down my spine and spiking my heart rate, all from a simple brush of her lips. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Yeah, we were sure as hell on a collision course for something, and her eyes showed it, too, as she glanced down at my lips, skimming her bottom one with her tongue before looking away.

  “You’re welcome. So that means you’ll need to be packed by noon,” she stated, like nothing had happened. “The new leathers I ordered for you are already waiting in Vegas, and your therapist will be waiting after the show, as requested.”

  My eyes narrowed slightly. How the hell could she ignore the kind of reaction her body was having? Color flushed her cheeks, there was a slight hitch in her breath, and she shifted her weight on the stool, yet she’d already moved on to the day’s travel plans. “Are you really going to pretend I didn’t just kiss you?”

  She scoffed. “Just taking a page out of your book. Now, we have a meet-and-greet scheduled—”

  I took her face in both hands and filled her mouth with my tongue, kissing her with every ounce of skill I’d picked up from years of nameless women. Zoe. She wasn’t faceless, nameless, or forgettable. There was a hint of peppermint on her lips as she melted into the kiss, her hand gripping the front of my hoodie.

  So. Damn. Good. Kissing her only got better and hotter every time. I could have spent the next year of my life doing nothing but kissing Zoe and it still wouldn’t be enough. I wanted more than a kiss. I wanted to taste every inch of her body, then come back for seconds, thirds, fourths. I wanted to feel her orgasm while I was buried deep inside her, to hear my name tumble from those lips, to wear little half-moons in my skin from her nails.

  I wanted her, which was precisely why I stopped kissing her, yanking my mouth away before I could change my mind. Thank God I was wearing sweatpants, or I would have had to readjust. Then again, they didn’t exactly help me out in the camouflage department.

  She blinked rapidly as her eyes came back into focus.

  Let her ignore that one.

  “You were saying?” I asked, struggling—and failing—to keep my breathing steady.

  “I woke up in your bed this morning,” she said, a clear challenge in her eyes.

  My jaw ticked, and I fought the urge to walk away. “You did.” My voice dropped.

  “Any idea how I ended up there?” Her eyes softened, the plea obvious.

  “Maybe it was the bears.” Kissing the hell out of Zoe was one thing. Discussing whatever this was between us was…something else. I’d already told her she wasn’t a game. How much more could she want? I turned my head and took a long drink of my coffee, uncaring that it was probably scalding the shit out of the vocal cords I’d need later.

  “Right. Be packed by noon.” Zoe slammed her planner closed and stood.

  No matter what I did with this woman, it was wrong. Shutting her out was wrong. Kissing her was wrong. Doing more would be even worse. But that little flash of pain in her eyes trumped them all.

  “I put you there,” I admitted, catching her wrist. She didn’t tug it away. “I found you sleeping on the floor, and I…” My eyes squeezed shut as I sucked in a deep breath. “I hated seeing you like that. Hated that I put you in that position. So, I put you to bed.” I slowly brought my gaze up the length of her body to meet hers.

  “In your bed,” she whispered.

  “It was closer.”

  She scoffed and tugged her wrist free.

  “I wanted you in my bed.” I stood, taking the vertical high ground if I couldn’t hold the moral one. “I didn’t get in with you or anything. I just…wanted you in my bed.”

  Her eyes flared in surprise. “I would have rather woken up next to you than alone in your bed.”

  A dull ache spread through my chest, sharpening into something simultaneously painful and sweet. “That’s a really bad idea.” But it sounded really good.

  “Why did you run away from me on the plane and then freeze me out for a week?”

  “Can we talk about something else?” I cringed slightly.

  “Sure. What happened at my parents’ house last night?” She stared me down even though I was a head taller.

  “For fuck’s sake.” I rubbed my hands down my face.

  “Pick one, and I’ll let the other slide for now,” she offered.

  “And if I don’t?”

  She swallowed, then lifted her chin a good inch. “Then you can find someone else to stay with you, because I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  I swore under my breath as I realized how badly I didn’t want her to go. There were only two people in my life I couldn’t walk away from—Jonas and Quinn. I cared too much about them. But Zoe had shot right up there without permission. Which was probably for the best, since I never would have given it.

  “Fine.” The stool squeaked against the floor as I moved it back under the counter and stepped away from her. Maybe it made me a coward, but I went for the easier of the two. “I thought it was best to put some professional distance between us, given the direction things had gone.”

  “Because you didn’t like kissing me?” Her brow puckered. “Because I’m not sure if you noticed, but you just kissed me again. Twice.”

  “Didn’t like kissing you?” I sent up a quick prayer for patience. “If you’d like to come over here, I’ll let you feel exactly how much I like kissing you.”

  She came closer.

  I jumped back. “Fuck! Would you please let me be honorable for once in my damned life?”


  “Explain.” She sank onto the stool.

  “I want you.” My chest eased a little with the admission, and I raked my hand over my hair. “Let me be perfectly clear. I want you naked, under me, in my bed, on this counter, against that wall, in the shower, on the porch swing in full view of the wildlife—”

  “I get the picture,” she blurted, her blush deepening. “So why run to the bathroom like you need to wash the taste of me out of your mouth? Was it all just to prove how far I’d let you go? I thought you said I wasn’t a game.”

  “You’re not!” My mouth hung open for a second before I managed to snap it shut. “That’s not what happened. I went to the closest room with a lock because I knew if I stayed on that couch, I would have been inside you in the next thirty seconds.”

  Her lips parted.

  “Understand now?” I put the island between us. “I didn’t want to use you like that. Can you honestly tell me you wanted to fuck me with the crew on the other side of the door?”

  She drew back slightly as her brow furrowed in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t have used that word, but in the moment, I’m not sure I would have cared if the press was on the other side of the door.”

  I groaned and gripped the edges of the counter. “That’s the problem. You weren’t thinking. I was barely thinking, so I did the responsible thing and gave us both time to clear our heads.”

  “Which took a week?” She folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Great, now I was going to start drooling. “I might have a slight communication problem.”

  “You think?” she snapped. “And it’s not using me if I’m clearly on board with it.”

  That brought me up short. “You’re…on board with it? So many inappropriate plane comments are rolling through my mind right now.”

  “Nixon!” She pushed away from the counter, then sighed. “Okay, you’re right. Looking back, I probably would have been a little mortified. About the audience. And the location. After the fact. Not during. You have a way of switching off my common sense.”

  “Exactly. I have f—” I grimaced. “Been with a lot of women. I’ve never really cared if they regretted it afterward because they were all clearly in the consent column before and during.”

  “I get it. You’re a rock star. Everyone wants it.” She put up her hands and rolled her eyes.

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I care if you regret this, Zoe. I care about what you think. I care about being in the right state of mind when it comes to touching you, because I care more about your feelings than I do about getting my hands on you, which, trust me, is a first.” I pointed at her. “And don’t you dare pull that shit about not wanting you, when you know it’s not true. I want you so badly that I’m hard the second I smell a damned coconut!”

  “Well, I bet you’re fun in the produce aisle.” A ghost of a smile curved her lips.

  “I’ve been banned by your local grocery store.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m a mess. You’re on the management staff. I heard what you said up there, loud and clear. I know how important your job is to you. It’s…complicated, and I was trying to put some distance between us for your own good.”

  She studied me carefully. “Are you done now?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered as truthfully as possible.

  “Well, I do.” She swallowed. “I want whatever this is.”

  My eyes widened and my heart stumbled. “You want… What about your job? I mean, I’d never let Ben fire you, but I know you’re worried about perceptions.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve decided if you’re willing to be real with me…then I’m willing risk whatever the consequences might be.”

  I stared at her in openmouthed shock. She thought I was worth the risk. Me. The guy who’d proven himself as anything but reliable. Perfect, gorgeous, rule-abiding Zoe wasn’t just coloring outside her lines, she was obliterating them. For me.

  “Say something,” she begged, her voice slipping to a whisper.

  You’d better earn it.

  “All right,” I said with a nod.

  “All right?”

  “We have two shows in the next six days. Let me get through them without…” Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. “And then we’ll see. I need to know I’m not using you.”

  Every inch between us went tight in the quiet.

  “Okay,” she finally agreed, breaking the silence but not the tension. “But…” She winced, looking away before steadying herself and meeting my gaze. “But if you end up using someone and it’s not me, I don’t know—”

  “Won’t happen.” There was zero chance in hell.

  “I’m sure you mean that, but I’m not exactly new to backstage, Nix.”

  I came around the island and took her face in my hands. “You’re new to this, just like me. And I’m telling you that I don’t want anyone else.”

  For now. The flash of sadness in her eyes said it for her.

  “I promise. No one else.” I’d never offered that to another woman in my life. Then again, I’d never met one I wanted to keep for myself either.

  “Okay.” She stood, brushed her lips over mine, and walked away, scooping up her planner and phone. “Now get packed.”

  “Just like that?” I asked.

  “Just like that,” she agreed. “You made me a promise. I trust you to keep it. It’s that simple. One week.”

  “Six days!” I countered as she walked out, tossing me a grin over her shoulder.

  These were about to be the longest six days of my life.

  12

  ZOE

  This had been the longest six days of my life.

  I had to give it to Nixon. If he’d been trying to heighten the tension between us, then mission accomplished. I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. Couldn’t stop fantasizing about what would happen once tonight’s show was over, and we were on our way home to Colorado.

  Then again, he’d probably want us to wait until tomorrow, just to be sure he could handle the aftermath of the second show on his own the way he had the first. He’d kept his word. No alcohol. No drugs. No other women. And while he’d occasionally brush his lips over mine when we were alone, he hadn’t taken it further, even after the first show. Plus, I was pretty sure he enjoyed torturing me.

  Like right this very minute.

  I didn’t need to turn around in the dark, hidden little spot I’d found offstage to know those were his hands on my hips, his lips at the shell of my ear, his chest pressing against my back. The second he touched me, my entire body started to hum.

  And it was humming.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “The bass guitar is bringing them down,” I lied, motioning to the stage, where a local band was opening. Not that it wasn’t true. Seven to One was pretty damn good. The vocals were hot, lead guitar impressive, and the drummer was on point. They had the sound, the talent, and the looks…except for the bass. I’d watched about a hundred videos of their live shows, and they all told the same story—the problem was the six-foot-three model with shit timing.

  “Really?” He leaned forward, molding my curves to his frame. There was another act before Hush Note went on, which meant we had a little over an hour.

  “Don’t you think?” I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair, turning slightly so my mouth brushed his jawline. Six days of mental foreplay had me ready to back him against the wall, regardless of who might see us. Six days of hidden looks, barely there touches, and secret smiles. He hadn’t so much as given me a proper kiss, and I was starving for it—for him.

  “He’s dragging the tempo,” he agreed. “But what I really think is that you’re trying to kill me in this dress.” He swept his hand from my waist to my thigh, ruffling the light, flirty material.

  “I thought you hated the dresses,” I teased.

  “I hate my inability to concentrate when you’re in a dress.” He nipped m
y earlobe.

  The curtains moved to our left, and Nixon stepped to my side, putting a friendly but professional distance between us.

  Quinn and Jonas appeared.

  “Here you are!” Jonas grinned and clapped Nixon on the back. “Checking out the competition?”

  “They’re not competition,” Quinn noted, her attention focused on the drummer, then slipping to the bass guitarist. “The bass is lagging.”

  “Told you!” I swatted Nixon’s chest. Not that it mattered, since they were already managed, though still unsigned by any label.

  “I didn’t disagree!” Nixon smiled down at me, and my heart stuttered.

  This was going to be bad. Maybe not now, but eventually. There was no way something that felt this wild ended with anything but heartbreak. I knew it. I just didn’t care.

  “I want your opinion on something. You got a second?” Jonas asked Nixon.

  “Yeah.” Nixon turned toward me, blocking me from sight. “I’ll see you in my dressing room? I have to change my shirt.”

  “I’ll be the one in the dress.”

  His smile hit an all-time high for sex appeal.

  Yeah, you’re screwed.

  He winked, then turned and walked back through a set of curtains with Jonas. I shook my head to clear it from the sight of those new leather pants and focused on the band.

  “You have a good ear,” Quinn said, coming up next to me, her sticks protruding from her back pocket.

  “Thanks.” It was a huge compliment coming from Quinn, who was pretty much as brutally honest as they came. “They’re already managed, but poorly. It’s a shame.”

  “You’re smart too.” She watched me carefully, and I had the feeling she saw way more than I wanted her to.

  “Thank you?” My gaze drifted sideways.

  “Too smart to get yourself tangled up in Nixon.” Her tone softened.

  My gaze jerked to hers, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

  “Shit,” she muttered. “I really wanted to be wrong.”

  “I’m not…tangled.” I knew exactly what I was getting into.