“I want you,” he whispered in her ear, as if to confirm any doubt she may have had before returning to the breast that was already craving his attention.
With quick work, he had the blouse unbuttoned and off her shoulders. With the flip of his fingers her front-latching bra was open, exposing her brown mounds to him.
And he dove in with a zestfulness that caused her to laugh out loud. The laughter soon turned to a moan of satisfaction as he pulled first one and then the other breast into his mouth.
Rayne could hold back no longer; soon she was ripping his shirt off his shoulders, needing to feel his skin against hers, and he was eager to help her. He sat up and pulled the spandex material of the costume over his head.
She reached for the button fly of his jeans and tugged hard but nothing happened. He smiled, a smile of pure seduction, as he slowly released the buttons and pulled the jeans down over his hips along with his underwear. “Is this what you want?” he asked, stroking his hand over his penis. Rayne gently reached out to touch him.
Yes, she thought, it was exactly what she wanted. Taking his manhood into her hands, she stroked him, watching the expressions of both pleasure and pain pass over his face.
It had been so long all she wanted was to touch him, to feel his skin against hers, but that simple pleasure was cut short as Tristan quickly stood and removed his jeans.
He rummaged in his pocket a moment and came up with a condom. Donning it quickly, he covered her body with his and then he was entering her.
Rayne wrapped her arms around his chest and held on with all her strength, never wanting to lose this feeling again. His lips found hers and with a kiss and their bodies they told each other what words never could.
Rayne felt as if the world were spinning around her. No one, nothing, had ever been like it was with Tristan. The level of intensity he brought out in her still stunned her. For so long, she had worked to control her emotions, learned to minimize a person’s effect on her. She gave only what she wanted to give and took only what she needed to take. But with Tristan the lines had become blurred. The want was endless and the need was all-consuming. He was not just her lover, he was her addiction.
And at that moment, she was as lost to his touch as a recovering alcoholic would be with that first sip. Lost…lost…lost.
Holding to him with all her strength did nothing to stop the tidal wave of pleasure that coursed through her body as she gave up her woman’s nectar.
She felt Tristan bury his head against her neck as his arms tightened around her thighs and he gave in to his own release.
When she opened her eyes a few minutes later it was to find Tristan sitting beside her on the sofa in his jeans. He was holding his costume shirt in his hands as he watched her nap.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” he whispered as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead.
Rayne yawned and sat up, surprised to find she had fallen asleep.
“I need to get back out there before they realize how good they sound without me.” He smiled as he gestured to the door. “Can we talk later?” he asked, pulling the shirt over his head.
She nodded, not sure what else to say. Then with another quick peck on the forehead he was gone.
Rayne sat up on the couch and, feeling the fabric against her bare skin, suddenly remembered she was naked. She quickly stood and redressed hoping no one came looking for her too soon. She flopped down on the couch, realizing she’d just broken another of her rules. She’d never made love in her office before. She’d said from the beginning of the club that her office was for business only. So much for that, she thought.
She knew the exact moment Tristan retook the stage because of the roar of the crowd. Despite whatever was going on between them, there was no denying Tristan Daniels had been good for Optimus.
She stood again and picked up her battered purse. “All that fighting and he still didn’t get the card,” she muttered with a shake of her head.
No matter how she tried, she could not concentrate for the rest of the evening. Normally she went out and mixed with the crowd throughout the night, but instead she huddled in her office trying to make sense of what had happened.
For so many years, sex had just been a thing she did. It was a physical release, an exercise of sorts, and if her partner happened to be good at it all the better. It was just sex.
But no matter how she tried, she could not place what had just happened in that category. She wanted to. She desperately wanted to. She wanted to be able to bed Tristan whenever the mood struck—and the mood struck quite often. But in her heart of hearts she knew it would never be that way between them.
She placed her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands and finally admitted the truth to herself. For the first time in her life, Rayne Phillips had fallen in love. With a twenty-four-year-old bass-playing schoolteacher no less! What the hell?
As she listened to the band play, she considered what Tristan wanted to talk about. She already knew. She decided it had to be a side effect of being in love. People in love could apparently read each other’s minds.
He would want to move back in with her. He would want to pick up where they left off. He would want to make peace between his family and her. He would want—no, expect to have a normal, healthy committed relationship.
The problem was that Rayne had no idea of what that was. She’d heard about it; she’d even seen some couples who managed to pull it off. But the details were sketchy.
For instance, how did a woman manage to feel what she felt for Tristan and keep from giving him too much control over her life? And her hard-won control was not something she was willing to give up easily. Not even for Tristan.
And the pain of losing him…
The past few days had been some of the hardest of her life. She wasn’t quite sure she could go through that again. So what were her options?
The sound of Tristan’s voice came through the walls as he sang “Beats of My Heart”—and Rayne knew he was playing it just for her. He was speaking to her through the walls, over the heads of the crowd. Even now, surrounded by his adoring fans, he was reaching out to her. What woman wouldn’t love a man like that?
The stress of trying to decide how to move forward combined with their rambunctious lovemaking had her yawning and she decided to lay her head on the desk just for a few minutes to take a short nap.
She awoke four hours later to find Tristan sitting across from her desk, just watching her sleep.
When he saw her eyes open, he smiled. “Wow, I must’ve really put it on you, huh?”
She twisted her mouth in a sarcastic expression. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
His smile faded slightly. “Me either.”
Glancing at her desk clock, she saw it was fifteen minutes past two in the morning. “I can’t believe I slept so long.”
Tristan reached forward and picked up her glass paperweight. “It’s okay, I closed the club. Everyone’s gone except us.” His face had taken on a solemn expression. He tossed the paperweight casually. “So?”
She looked at him and considered pleading ignorance, but he deserved better than that. “I don’t know.”
“What am I missing, Rayne?” He leaned forward, returning the paperweight to the desk. “I feel like there is a barrier between us that only you can see. It’s frustrating. How can I knock down a wall I can’t see?”
“Maybe it’s not meant to be knocked down?”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head in frustration. “This is all new to me.”
“How about we take it a day at a time?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t rush things, just take it nice and slow. Go back to the way it was before my family showed up.”
“I don’t think I can do that either.”
He chuckled. “You are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”
“You don’t even know what I want.”
“Yes, I do.”
“What would that be, Rayne?”
“You want a committed relationship.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Would you find it that hard to be faithful?”
“Commitment is more than being faithful, and you know it.”
“Look, I’m not asking you to wear a chastity belt or tattoo my name on your forehead. But, yes, I do want some kind of commitment.”
“And when I start feeling like a caged animal. Then what?”
“Why would you feel like a caged animal?”
She simply stared at him for several long seconds before shaking her head in denial. “Never mind, bad choice of words.”
“No, tell me. Why would you feel that way?”
“I like being in control of my own life, Tristan. You give that up in a relationship.”
“Where do you get this crazy nonsense?” He frowned. “I thought our problem had something to do with you not wanting to settle for one man. But this is a lot bigger than that. You’re afraid of sharing yourself with someone.”
“Sharing myself?”
“Opening up to someone.”
“We open up to each other all the time.”
“No, you tell me about your past and I tell you about mine. I’m talking about something totally different. I’m talking about the future. I’m talking about sharing the future.”
She frowned at him. “You know what,” she said as she stood from her chair, “it’s late. Way too late for this. I’m going home. Let’s have this discussion when I’m fresh.” She pushed her chair in to the desk. “Are you coming home with me?”
He stood staring into her eyes. “I don’t think so.” He looked away. “I need to think, something I don’t do well when I’m with you.”
He regretted the words when he saw the slightly hurt expression that quickly passed over her face. She shrugged in false indifference. “Suit yourself.” She collected her purse. “Can you lock up when you leave?”
He nodded and watched as she dropped the ring of keys for the club on the desk in front of him and without so much as a backward glance walked out of the office.
The next morning, Tristan was walking to his post office box to collect his mail when his cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Mel Ferrell’s voice came through the line.
Tristan frowned slightly, wondering how Mel had gotten his cell phone number. “What do you need, Mel?”
“Have you thought about my offer?”
“What offer?”
“The solo album we discussed last night.”
Tristan had completely forgotten about their discussion in the hallway. “Solo album?”
“Man, that woman has you all twisted in knots. Pay attention this time. My label wants to sign you, just you—not Optimus Four. Now, do you have a problem with that?”
Tristan stopped walking. “Hell, yeah, I have a problem with that. No deal. It’s all or nothing.”
“Before you go all musketeer on me, think about it, because this is the last time I will be making this offer. There are fifty guys standing in line behind you dying for a chance like this. Now, I know you feel loyalty to those guys, but let’s be real. How long have you really known them? A few weeks? You don’t owe them anything.”
Tristan let his eyes float over the people rushing by him in all directions while he considered the offer. What Mel Ferrell was offering was a devil’s deal. But he would’ve been lying to himself if he pretended it was not a tempting offer. Then again, the devil’s deals usually were.
What Mel was offering was exactly what he’d come to New York seeking—or so he thought. Now he realized he would’ve been just as happy spending the rest of his days performing at the Optimus, as long as he could have Rayne by his side while he did it. But at this point, he couldn’t even be certain of that future.
“Can I have some time to think about it?”
“Take all the time you want. But I need an answer by tomorrow. Like I said, there are others we are considering, as well.”
After he ended his call with Mel, Tristan continued to the post office and then headed to a nearby greasy spoon for breakfast. As he sat in a back booth of the small restaurant, his mind was racing with recent events.
The world had changed so much since he’d come to New York. A part of him was wishing he’d just stayed in Albany, and continued to dream. “Be careful what you wish for,” he muttered to himself.
“What’s that, sweetie?” His waitress appeared at his side. She was a middle-aged woman of average appearance.
He lifted his coffee cup. “Can I get a refill?”
She poured the coffee and noticed the notes he was scribbling on a napkin. “What’s that?”
He glanced down at the paper. “I’m a songwriter.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? Are you famous?”
He smiled. “Not yet.”
Her face twisted in thought, then she quickly reached over and grabbed another napkin. “Can I get your autograph anyway? Just in case.”
Tristan couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Why not?”
He quickly signed his name on the napkin and the waitress tucked it into her pocket. “Thanks. Who knows, one day this may be worth something.”
“Who knows?”
She continued on to the next table and Tristan was once again left alone with his thoughts. He continued to stare out the window until finally…it came to him like an epiphany. He knew what he needed to do.
He pulled a fresh napkin to him and began to write.
Chapter 10
As he entered the club that night, he was running late. The club was already jumping with patrons and the evening was well under way.
As he hurried down the hallway, Tristan could hear commotion coming from the dressing room. As soon as he opened the door all sound ceased.
Dex, Ronnie, Toby and Steve, who all seemed to have been huddled together in deep discussion, turned and looked at him with solemn expressions.
Tristan knew instantly that Mel Ferrell’s offer had somehow become public knowledge.
“What’s up, fellas?” he asked, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.
Dex stepped away from the group. “Okay, let’s get all the awkward stuff out of the way. No one here blames you, Tristan.”
“Blames me for what?”
“We know Mel offered you the contract,” Ronnie spoke up. “Only you.”
“Nobody blames you for taking it,” Steve said.
“Who said I took it?” he asked, moving to the closet to collect a clean costume shirt. The one he wore the night before still smelled like Rayne.
The other men each looked at each other. Dex stepped forward again. “Tristan, you have to take it. You can’t pass up a chance like this.”
Tristan found a shirt that would fit and pulled it out of the closet before turning back to the group. “Watch me.”
Toby stepped through the group and walked up to him. “I like you, Tristan, but if it were me I would take it.” He gestured to the others. “Any of us would’ve.”
Dex placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder in a show of support. “We all knew you were going places the first time we heard you sing. This really doesn’t surprise any of us. So don’t feel like you’re betraying us. This is your moment—go for it.”
“Look, I appreciate all the support.” Tristan moved away from the group and quickly changed shirts. “But I’ve already made up my mind. I’m going back to Albany.”
Without warning, the dressing-room door swung open and Rayne stood there with wide, frightened eyes. “You’re going back to Albany. But why?”
Seeing the startled expression on the faces of the others, Tri
stan quickly crossed the room and guided her by the arm back into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.
Rayne quickly turned to face him. “Why? I thought—after last night…”
Tristan placed his hand over her lips. “Don’t say anything.” He reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out the folded napkin. “Just read this.” He handed her the napkin, and, taking her by the shoulders, turned her in the direction of her office.
“I admit,” he said, giving her a gentle push, “I’m too much of a coward to watch you read it, so take it back to your office.”
“What is this?”
“Just read it.” He placed a gentle kiss on the back of her head, taking the time to breathe in her perfume, knowing he may not have many more opportunities like this. And then he disappeared back into the dressing room.
As soon as he was gone, Rayne opened the napkin and something fell out onto the floor. She quickly bent to pick it up and her breath caught in her throat. She stood slowly, not believing what she was looking at.
The yellow diamond from the store window! But now it was set in a gold ring and surrounded by various colored precious stones. Needing to sit down, she remembered where she was and hurried down the hall to her office.
She flopped down in her desk chair and reopened the napkin. The solitaire diamond sparkled in the bright office light, and, looking at it, Rayne realized how well Tristan understood her nature. The ring was exactly what she would’ve chosen for herself. Looking at the napkin again, she saw it had two simple words scribbled on it: “Marry me.”
That was it, the two words and the diamond ring. Her heart sped up. Was he insane? How could he just spring this on her like this? And he didn’t even have the decency to do it in person.
It took everything in her not to go back to that dressing room right now and give him a piece of her mind! Just then, the diamond caught a ray of light and the beauty of the stone was revealed. Her heart softened.
In all the so-called relationships she’d experienced in her adult life, Rayne could not remember any one of them ending in a marriage proposal. Primarily because the men she dated were not the marrying kind, nor did she give off the vibe that she would be responsive to such a request.
Rhythms of Love Page 17