With the fabric clenched in one hand, I reached for Beckett with the other. “You’ve still got paint on you,” he said with a frown.
I glanced down and realized my hands were smeared with scarlet and azure. “Oh, sorry. I was going to give you a kiss.”
“Raincheck?” he asked with a wink.
I dropped my arms. “Sure.”
“Sorry to just drop in on you. My meeting was postponed, so I decided to come a day early and see my girl. I made us dinner reservations,” he explained.
“Aww. How sweet? How’d you figure out where I was?” I asked.
“I went by your place. The doorman said you’d been here pretty much from sunup to sundown. I took a chance you’d still be here.” His gaze roved over me as he talked.
“You ready to go?” I moved towards the glass door.
“Don’t you want to go wash the paint off before we leave? It’s on your cheek too.” He pointed to his left cheek with his index finger.
“Oh, OK. I figured I’d just catch a shower at my place then we could go to dinner.” The look on his face stopped my words. “But I’ll just go do a quick clean up first.”
“Sounds good.” He smiled brightly.
“Be right back.” I spun around and hurried to the restroom.
I held my hands beneath the hot water and leaned in closer to the mirror. There was a tiny dot of blue on my cheek. With my fingernail, I scratched the speck until it flaked off my cheek, leaving a red mark.
When I got back to the door, Beckett’s face lit up. “That’s better. I’ll take my kiss now.” Leaning down, he planted his lips on mine for a soft kiss. “Let’s go.”
The sun was sinking, and there was a chill in the air. With his hand on the small of my back, he steered me to his car parked right outside the door. Dawson’s voice poured from the speakers as soon as Beckett turned the key.
“Sorry. I’ll change it. I was getting ready for the concert.” The sheepish look on his face was adorable.
He reached for the knob, but my hand on his wrist halted him. “You don’t have to change it. I mean, I’m going to be in the midst of a rock concert tomorrow anyway. May as well prepare my ears for it.” And my heart.
We both settled back in our seats as he maneuvered the car onto the street and in the direction of my apartment.
Surprisingly, the sound of Dawson singing didn’t squeeze my heart painfully or send me into a near panic attack. “So, where are we going for dinner?” I asked as I watched traffic out the window.
“Chophouse.” The look on his face said he was proud of his choice.
“How in the world did you swing that on a Friday night?” That place was always busy.
“Luck. They had a cancellation right before I called.”
“That is kismet.” I hadn’t ever eaten at the widely popular eatery, but I’d wanted to.
“Oh, I meant to ask you, what happened to the front of your apartment building?” He glanced at me.
“Someone spray painted it a few days ago.” The police still had no leads.
“Really? Your neighborhood is a low crime area. What in the world was painted on your building?”
“I think it said, ‘He’s mine, slut,’ or something of that nature. Speaking of, the police wanted me to ask you if you’d ever had a patient form an unhealthy attachment to you.” I twisted my body to look at him.
“You mean besides my girlfriend?” he asked with a smirk.
I smacked his arm. “Obviously.”
He scratched his chin. “Hmmm. I guess there have been a few patients over the years. It’s not uncommon… But why would they ask you that?”
“The officer said that the message was directed to a female in the building. So, they were asking all of us who live there if there was anyone who might possibly be trying to stake a claim on the men in our lives,” I explained.
He frowned and opened his mouth to speak before slamming his lips shut again.
“What, Beckett?” I asked as he pulled into the lot at my building.
“Well, there was this one patient from the same trial as you actually who reached out a few weeks ago. She asked if we could grab coffee sometime. I told her I was flattered but I was seeing someone. But she couldn’t have done something like this. She doesn’t even know your name, let alone where you live,” his voice sounded uncertain.
“I’ll give you the detective’s number and let you give him the information just in case.”
“Certainly,” he agreed as he climbed out of the car in front of my building and came around to open my door. Always the gentleman, he helped me out of the vehicle.
When we entered the lobby, Kyle said, “I see you found her.”
“Yes, I did thanks to you. Have a great evening.” Beckett saluted him.
“You too.”
We moved in the direction of my apartment in companionable silence. Once we were inside, I dropped my purse on the table by the door and started down the hall.
“I’m just going to take a quick shower. Want to join me?” I called over my shoulder.
“I’d love to if we weren’t pressed for time. I don’t want to miss our reservations. But after you get dressed throw some stuff in a bag, and we can soak in the jacuzzi tub in my hotel room tonight.”
My achy muscles rejoiced at the prospect of a long soak. Spending long hours hunched over a canvas each day was starting to take a toll. “Sounds heavenly. My tired body is already thanking you.”
Within minutes I had the shower going. I drew in a sharp breath as the cold water pounded my skin. I was in too much of a hurry to wait for it to heat up to bearable temperatures. Quickly, I cleaned all the residual paint from my hair and body. After the world’s fastest shower, I rubbed the feeling back into my limbs with the fluffy towel.
In record time, I made it back to where Beckett waited, dressed in a black cocktail dress. “Wow.” His assessment warmed my heart. “Let me take your bag.” He grabbed my overnight bag, then wrapped his fingers around mine.
After the most exquisite meal of braised duck, which I’d let Beckett pick for me, we drove a few miles to his hotel.
“I checked in before I came looking for you,” he explained as we bypassed the front desk and strode across the lobby.
The mirrored doors to the elevator slid open, and we stepped on in silence. Things were different between us. Maybe the difference was me and the war waging in my heart. Maybe it was just the stress we were both under. I wasn’t sure. But Beckett had kept our dinner conversation superficial all evening, like I was a casual friend, not someone whose body he’d been buried inside before.
I’d been hoping the small flicker that had only simmered between us would be ignited into an inferno. I wanted affirmation that I was traveling in the right direction for my life. But nothing seemed to raise the heat level.
As soon as the door to our room opened, I moved to the window to look out over the port. The movement of the water soothed my soul.
“Babe, I’ll go get the tub going, if you’re still wanting that soak,” he offered, coming up behind me.
“Mmmhmm,” I moaned as he kissed my neck. He spun me around and kissed me deeply.
“Be right back,” he whispered and disappeared into the bathroom.
The swish of flowing water filled the air. Methodically, I stripped off my clothes. The falling water in the bathroom lulled me to a peaceful state, letting my mind rest.
The faint scent of lavender permeated the air as I dug through my bag for a hairbrush and scrunchie. With quick strokes, I brushed my short hair, then knotted it in a low bun. As I dropped the brush back in my duffel bag, strong arms slid around my stomach. Large, warm palms caressed my abdomen, then traveled upward. Hard muscles pressed against my back.
“Water’s ready,” he murmured against the shell of my ear, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin. Wet kisses trailed down my neck. I tilted my head back and lost myself in the sensation, thinking of nothing beyond the second w
e currently inhabited.
When I turned in his arms, his eyes were filled with lust. I only had a moment to admire him before his mouth devoured mine, kissing me with more passion than ever before. He backed me up against the wall next to the dresser. The shimmer of a foil square caught my eye on the wooden surface. He ripped it open and covered his length. His palm cupped the apex of my thighs. Gentle fingers stroked along my sensitive skin, dipping in to taunt.
I allowed myself to be present in the moment. To not think of what used to be or what could be, just what currently was. Strong arms gripped my thighs and hoisted me up. With surgical precision, he teased me with his shaft before sinking in.
As he thrust in and out, I rested my head against his shoulder. The ferocity of his motions was unprecedented, like he was seeking something. Maybe the same thing I was. Something we seemed to be missing.
In the mirror across the room, I watched us, my artist’s eye examining things. My pale skin against his darker tone was a nice study in contrast. The muscles in his back flexed and released with each motion. My nails pressed into his flesh.
I studied myself. It wasn’t me looking back at myself. That short, blonde hair pulled back wasn’t mine. Those sad, shimmering eyes weren’t mine. Those lips without even a ghost of a smile. Those cheeks without the flush of passion. They weren’t mine. None of it. Somewhere along the way I’d gotten lost, and now the shell of myself went through the motions in every aspect—art, clothes, appearance, even sex.
Beckett deserved better. I had to put forth some effort. Reaching between our bodies, I pressed my fingers against the top of my slit. In minutes, I was able to reach his level of arousal by rubbing concentrated circles around my nub. His breath picked up in my ear, and his muscles tightened beneath my palm on his shoulder. My fingers moved faster. He shattered first, and I followed behind.
He eased from my body, then carried me to the bathroom. With gentle hands he lowered me to the steamy, scented water.
My limbs went limp with glee as I sank to my chin. Beckett pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Enjoy your soak.” He dimmed the light as he walked out of the room. Relief flooded me as I embraced the solitude.
I couldn’t do this anymore. Though what we had was nice, it wasn’t enough. Beckett should have someone who could love him with her whole heart, not broken scraps that still echoed with love for someone else.
I stayed in the tub until the water turned tepid. As the water swirled down the drain, I dried off. Clad in my pajamas, I padded quietly to the bed where Beckett dozed. Lifting the blanket, I slipped in next to him. He rolled towards me and cracked one eye open.
“Night, babe. Love ya,” he mumbled in a sleepy voice, then rolled back away from me.
In the dim light, my mind drifted to and fro, fretting over things I’d never considered before. Simple things, like how two people who loved each other should share a bed. And how their hearts should touch. How it should be more than nice.
Why couldn’t we have that?
I glanced at the clock. 11:11. Wishing time. But what to wish for?
♪ Every Rose has its Thorn by Poison
Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because the next time I glanced at the glowing red numerals they read 6:43. Carefully, I crept out of bed and grabbed my bag on the way to the bathroom. The soft click of the door was the only sound in the darkness. I turned on the light over the sink, so I could find my toiletries. Triumphantly, I unearthed my toothbrush. My mouth filled with minty foam as I scrubbed away the sleep-fuzz coating my teeth. Once the morning breath had been conquered, I tackled the rat’s nest in my short hair. Finally, I rubbed some fruity scented lotion onto my skin. Satisfied, I turned the light off and climbed back into bed.
Over an hour later, warm breath feathered across my cheek as Beckett stared at me.
“Morning,” I offered with a smile.
He brushed a kiss across my lips, then buried his nose in my neck. “How are you real?”
“What do you mean?” I giggled as his nose tickled my skin.
“You smell so good, even first thing in the morning, and your breath is even fresh. How is that possible?” he asked in sleepy awe.
I just grinned at him. “Magic.” I’d always been self-conscious with the handsome doctor, and months later, it still hadn’t subsided.
“I know I kind of showed up early, so it’s cool if you have to go to the studio today. I know you’re on a deadline. I brought work with me too,” he said as he stretched.
“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” I asked in relief.
“Not at all.” He kissed my nose. “I’m going to shower. Can you order us some breakfast?”
“Sure. What do you want? Or do you want me to surprise you?” I asked his back.
“I’d like two eggs over easy, wheat toast and fresh fruit. Coffee, black.”
“Got it.”
I placed our orders and got dressed while he showered. I was happy that I was going to spend the day at the gallery. But I shouldn’t be.
Two people who hadn’t spent more than a night of quality alone time together in over a month, shouldn’t be anxious to be apart.
By the time I needed to head out to get ready for the concert, I’d completed one painting in my alternate plan. I still kept going back to my sketches of my original idea—erasing, tweaking, longing to bring them to life. I locked everything up and went out to the curb where Beckett was waiting.
Between a late lunch and my nerves, my stomach wasn’t in any condition to take on dinner. Thankfully, Beckett had eaten while he worked. After a detour to my apartment so I could change clothes, we were on our way to the venue. I’d had an odd feeling all day. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was almost like someone was watching me, judging me.
Beckett proudly flashed our VIP lanyards at the parking attendant, who motioned us towards the special parking lot where the buses were. It was almost showtime, so security wouldn’t let us backstage.
My heart vacillated between relief and disappointment. Beside me, Beckett vibrated like a band stretched too tightly. An attendant showed us to our seats, front row center. I sank into my spot, while Beckett leaned against the metal barricade separating the seats from the stage.
“Izzy,” Joe rumbled as he approached from the other side of the divider.
I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him. “How have you been?” I was so happy to see him.
“Been good. I hope you have been too.” He squeezed me tightly.
I nodded.
“Dawson wanted me to come let you guys know that during intermission, someone from security is going to come grab you two so you can watch the second half of the show from backstage if you want.”
A squeal came from my right. I glanced up at Beckett. “I take it that you’d like that?”
“Mmmhmm.”
I chuckled. I’d never seen him so giddy and child-like before. “That’d be wonderful, Joe. Tell the guys I said break a leg.”
“Will do. See you in a bit.” Joe waved as he ambled away.
Later, when the house lights dimmed, I tugged on the back of Beckett’s shirt. “You can sit down you know. No one’s going to be in front of you blocking the view.”
“I’m too excited to sit.” His weight shifted from foot to foot.
His enthusiasm was rapidly squashing my nerves. I was glad that I could be part of giving him this bit of joy. He’d rarely ever let loose and enjoyed himself, so it was a sight to behold.
He glanced down at me. “What?”
“I’ve never seen you like this. So carefree and excited. It looks good on you.” I gave him a shy smile.
He flashed me a cheesy grin, then joined the throng of fans chanting, “LO, LO, LO.”
The lights went out completely, bringing a hush across the auditorium. When they flashed back on, the guys were on stage and pandemonium erupted.
Tap, tap, tap. “How are you doing, South Carolina?” Dawson shouted into the mic.
The crowd went wild. My heart did too.
“We’re so happy to be here playing for what we consider to be one of our hometown crowds. We’re going to give you some old stuff, some new stuff and some stuff from great South Carolinian musicians.”
He strummed the E-minor three times, then launched into the band’s biggest hit, to the delight of the crowd. Beckett proudly belted every word, while I sang under my breath, trying to keep a tight rein on my emotions.
When the band paid tribute to South Carolina native band, Hootie and the Blowfish, Dawson stared in my direction every time the words of the chorus left his lips. Was he trying to say that he only wanted to be with me?
♪ Only Wanna be with You by Hootie and the Blow Fish
As the night wore on, Beckett glanced back at me more frequently when it seemed Dawson was singing in our direction. But the smile never left his face. It amped up my anxiety though, making it hard for me to lose myself in the music like I’d always done in the past at Dawson’s shows.
After a dozen or so songs, Dawson pulled up a stool to his mic. As he sat, he strummed absentmindedly. “We’ve got one more for you before we take a quick fifteen-minute break. Then we’ll come back and rock some more. This song is actually from a new guy on the country music scene. He’s pretty cool. I met him a few weeks ago. He was singing this song we’re going to play for you. The words of the song really hit me. So, pay attention to the lyrics. See if they hit you like they hit me.”
For the first time all night, Beckett sank into his seat. Dawson turned his body slightly on the stool, so he was fully facing me. He started to sing about a couple in a relationship. The song was catchy and upbeat. I somehow hadn’t heard the country version, but I imagined the guys had added a rock twist to it in their signature style.
Staring into Dawson’s eyes, I became lost in a trance, and the world faded away. When he hit the hook, the words sank in and gripped my heart like they were delivering a message directly to me.
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 55