Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

by Charli B. Rose

  “You were the anonymous buyer?” she murmured in awe.

  “Yes.” I shrugged. “When I saw the video tour and realized you were selling the collection, I knew I couldn’t let someone else own our story. And I figured you wouldn’t really want to sell it.”

  “I didn’t. But then I decided our story wasn’t over, so if I had to part with a portion that represented our story, everything would be fine. But I have to admit, I’m so glad the buyer was you.”

  She threw herself at me, nearly knocking me down in her enthusiasm. I accepted her passionate kiss, but I kept it from getting too far out of hand, since there was more to show her.

  I walked over to the half of the room that didn’t have a twenty-foot ceiling. Tucked in the corner of the room was a staircase, leading up to a loft. The area was well lit thanks to the wall of glass. The room was high enough that an unobstructed view of the ocean filled the glass. I had a custom art desk installed, along with all the other things Izzy had ever mentioned wanting in her dream studio.

  She turned to me, questions in her eyes.

  “I had this room designed for us. Since we like to create in the same space, I wanted this area converted into a room for the both of us,” I explained.

  “How long did you say you’ve owned the house?” she asked, mentally trying to figure out how I could’ve done all of this in such a short period of time.

  “A little over two years,” I admitted.

  Her brow wrinkled. “What? You bought a house before we broke up and you never said anything?”

  “I bought it for us a few weeks before your visit to Amsterdam two years ago. I was planning to fly you out here when we had to be in town a few months after that. But then everything fell apart….”

  “And you kept the house?”

  “I couldn’t let it go. Even though you’d never set foot in it, I bought it for our future. And somewhere in my heart I always hoped we’d get a second chance.”

  ♪ Home by Phillip Phillips

  “I’m glad you kept it,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

  “Me too, flutterby.”

  I turned the knob on the door set in the front corner of the loft. It opened onto the second-floor hallway. As we passed rooms, I explained what had been done to each when I purchased the house. We were almost to the end of the hall, when I revealed a room that was bathed in soft light from the window. The carpet inside was plush. The room stood empty at the moment, but I could envision it a few years in the future filled with toys.

  “Since this room is the closest to our room, I thought this would make a perfect nursery someday.”

  Pain filled her eyes, and she sunk to the floor.

  “What’s wrong, flutterby? You always wanted to be a mom someday. I’m sorry I assumed that wouldn’t change when I bought the house. It’s OK if you’ve changed your mind.” I was desperate to erase her sorrow.

  My heart ached at the prospect of never getting to parent a child with her. But I’d rather have her than have kids.

  “I still want to be a mom one day,” she whispered as sobs wracked her body. “I just don’t know if it’s a possibility anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, the doctors said infertility might be a consequence of my treatments. I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how to even br-bring it up,” she hiccupped.

  I lowered myself to the floor with her and drew her onto my lap.

  “I know you always envisioned yourself being a dad in the future. If this changes how you feel about me or what you see for your life, I understand. It’s a big deal knowing kids might not be a possibility.” She looked into my eyes.

  “Izzy, even without your diagnosis and treatments, there never would’ve been a guarantee that pregnancy would happen easily. But that’s beside the point. There are many ways to become a parent. When the time is right, we can explore our options. But know this, the only thing I can’t live without in my life is you. If kids aren’t in the cards for us, I can deal with that as long as I have you.”

  “Are you sure? I’d never want to cheat you out of your plans for the future.”

  “I’m positive. Now come on, let me show you our room. We can break in our bed.” I waggled my brows at her, drawing a smile to her lips.

  I stood and pulled her to her feet then led her across the hall. With a twist of the knob, I opened the door to the master suite. It was decorated in blue and grey. The bed was massive and until today, had been lonely. A balcony jutted from the side of the house beyond the sliding doors.

  Bending my knees, I lifted her over my shoulder and tossed her onto the bed. She laughed as she bounced.

  “Tour’s over,” I announced.

  She scrunched up her nose as she examined the fancy headboard. “This isn’t the bed you had at your old apartment.”

  “No. That bed was old. It was my mattress from New York. It just didn’t feel right moving a bed that other girls had been on into our house,” I explained with a shrug. I knew my thoughts were probably foolish, but I didn’t want to bring any bad vibes into our place. Lot of good that did me.

  She tackled me, pinning me beneath her. “So, you’re telling me that there have been no women in this house or this bed?”

  “It would be sacrilege to have anyone else in the home or bed that was meant for you.”

  Leaning down, she gave me a hard kiss. “I’m glad.” She smiled against my mouth.

  Every piece of me was filling up with Izzy. Her breath fanned my skin, her taste filled my mouth, her voice echoed in my mind, her beauty seared my vision, imprinting our love in each of my hundred trillion cells. Writing its existence into each strand of DNA comprising my being.

  Her tongue darted out to trace my parted lips. I accepted her kiss and gave back in equal measure, licking and stroking the interior of her mouth. As passion rose between us, her hips began to grind down where my cock twitched against her warmth. I growled and forced myself to keep the pace the same.

  Beneath the weight of her, this house finally felt like a home. And though I was desperate to sink into her heat and chase release for both of us, now that she was here, we had time. Time I planned to take worshipping each cell of her body. We had forever to love each other.

  The next morning, I had to leave her asleep in bed while I met with Bas about hiring a manager he recommended.

  When I came back home, Izzy was oddly quiet and distant. She was curled up on the couch with a sketch pad on her lap.

  “Sorry I left before you woke up. Did you get my note?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Her pencil continued to stroke across the page, but I couldn’t discern what she was drawing just yet.

  “OK. Anyway, Bas suggested three people for us to interview to be our manager. I’m going to talk to the guys about it later.”

  “Cool,” she said without looking up.

  Her one-word answers and lack of eye contact were concerning.

  “I brought takeout for lunch.” I held up the bags of Chinese food. “You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  I carried the bags to the kitchen and placed them on the counter. Once I unpacked them all, the counter was littered with several cardboard boxes. I filled our plates with our favorites then carried them into the living room. As I slid the plates onto the large coffee table, I glanced over to Izzy in the corner. I willed her to look at me.

  When she didn’t, I got up and returned to the kitchen for napkins, utensils and water bottles.

  Dropping to the floor, I settled in front of my plate at the coffee table. “I got your favorites,” I said, hoping to entice her into looking up and speaking.

  She put her sketchpad aside then sat beside me on the floor. “Thanks,” she said, taking a set of chopsticks from me.

  She grabbed some lo mein noodles and lifted them to her mouth.

  I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t figure out what was bothering her. “Did I do something wrong, flutte
rby?”

  At first, she didn’t say anything, just continued eating.

  “I know I said I didn’t have anything going on the next few days. I didn’t realize Bas had lined this up. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again,” I rambled.

  “It’s not about you leaving this morning.”

  “Then what has you so upset? Did something happen?” I turned to face her fully.

  She shrugged. “I slept in. Found your note and the flower on the pillow when I woke up. Then I explored your bathroom.”

  “Oh, did you try out the soaking tub?” I figured she’d love that when I first considered buying the house.

  “No, just the shower, which was amazing by the way.”

  I waited for her to continue.

  “I thought you said no girls had ever been here. Not that you didn’t have the right to while we weren’t together. But you didn’t have to lie to me about it.” She looked down at her plate.

  With my fingers, I gently lifted her chin up so I could see her eyes. “I swear to you on all my guitars no women have ever been here in this house except for those the band employs and the lady who cleans. Why would you think there has been?”

  She put her hand in her pocket. “Then why do you have these in your bathroom?” She pulled her hand out to reveal a tube of strawberry scented lip gloss and a bottle of perfume. “Plus, you have girl shampoo and conditioner in your shower.”

  Laughter and relief exploded from me.

  She looked at me in disbelief. Shaking my head, I plucked the items from her hand. “Flutterby, these are yours. You left them on the tour bus in Europe, remember?”

  She dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my gosh,” she said. Her gaze met mine. “I totally forgot about that. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s OK, baby. I’m just glad I didn’t really do something. I can be an oblivious idiot sometimes,” I teased. “We’ll settle back into who we are as a couple. And if you want to know something, anything, just ask me. I have no secrets from you.”

  “Complete honesty. Always.”

  Chapter 21

  Izzy

  The day after Dawson met with Bas, we managed to avoid all semblance of reality beyond the walls of Dawson’s house. But our vacation was drawing to a close, if the dinging from Dawson’s phone was any indication.

  “The guys want to hang out tonight,” he said as he scrolled through his messages. “If we don’t agree to meet them somewhere, I’m afraid they’re going to descend on us. They’ll stay all night if they come over.”

  “So, where are we going then?” I asked, a little excited. I really didn’t mind going out with the guys. It would help make things feel like they were back to normal between me and Dawson.

  “They want to go to The Hole in the Wall.”

  “I thought that place was in Ohio?” I asked, scrunching up my brow in a frown.

  “The one we got our start at is. But the owner has a second location here. We’ve hung out there a lot over the past few weeks.”

  “They going to have live music tonight?” I asked.

  “Yeah. They’ve actually had a few acts who we’d like to work with once we get established as a record label.”

  “That’s great. So, what time do we need to go?”

  He looked at the time on his phone screen. “In a few hours.”

  “So, we have time to go to the beach?” I’d longed to go since we arrived.

  “Sure. I just need to let Joe know.”

  I got to my feet while Dawson tapped away on his phone. Before he could get off the couch, I’d dashed up the stairs to find my bathing suit.

  By the time Dawson crossed the threshold, I was clad in my new one-piece suit.

  “What happened to that little bikini you used to wear? Not that there’s anything wrong with that one. But man, that pink bikini fueled a lot of my fantasies.” He rubbed his hands together.

  My hand drifted to the area over my scar. With a shrug, I said, “The bikini just didn’t seem… right anymore.”

  Dawson closed the distance between us. “I’m going to show you every single day just how sexy I think you are, how much you turn me on, how there is no one more beautiful than you. And one day, you’re going to believe it yourself. In the meantime, since you have a sensible suit, want to go surfing?”

  My mouth spread in a wide grin. I hadn’t surfed in forever. “Together?” I asked.

  When Dawson first started teaching me to surf, I surfed on his board with him. I loved it.

  “Of course,” he said with a smirk.

  He moved to his dresser and rifled around until he found his wet suit. With a little more searching, he unearthed mine from when he got it for me years ago.

  “I thought the water here was warm?”

  “Nope. So, even if you had the teeny bikini, no one would see it.”

  He stripped, and I started to forget about leaving the room.

  “I know that look,” he teased as he stepped into his suit. “You want me.”

  “That’s a given. But I guess I can take a raincheck since we’re going to the beach.”

  Covered in skintight black fabric, he was a sight to behold. He held open my suit and help me slip into it like a second skin.

  “Joe’s waiting in the garage for us.”

  He grabbed a couple of towels then laced my fingers with his.

  After we stopped by the garage to pick up Dawson’s longer board and Joe, we walked to the beach. The walk was short—across Pacific Coast Highway, through some dunes and down to the rolling ocean.

  I slipped out of my shoes as soon as we hit the shore. The soft sand sifted between my toes. It was always a marvel to me, the subtle differences in texture and shade of something as simple as sand between here and the beach at home. Instead of the brownish grey of the beach at home, Malibu’s sand was much closer to the actual hue that bore the label sand. The color and power of the Pacific always awed me. The clear, bright blue was so different from the brownish green of the Atlantic. Gulls cried in the cloudless sky overhead as waves rushed towards us.

  We left Joe sitting with our towels and moved into the water. As my feet became submerged, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Damn, that’s cold.”

  I stopped moving forward. Dawson halted beside me.

  “Told you. It’s best to just get it over with like when we were kids.”

  I knew he was right, but it was so cold. The ocean never felt this cold when we were kids. Maybe we were just too reckless to notice back then.

  “On three?” he asked, looking at me.

  I nodded.

  “One,” he said, dropping the board into the water.

  “Two,” I said, willing my body to warm up.

  “Three,” we said in unison and dove into the oncoming wave.

  I sputtered as my head broke the surface. The temperature stole my breath. Dawson’s head popped up next to me, and he wrapped his arms around me. I welcomed his warmth. His lips descended on mine. My mouth fell open to welcome his questing tongue. My taste buds were bombarded with a hint of salt and the taste of him.

  My fingers clutched at his wet suit. No matter how many times I kissed this man, those same butterflies I felt during our first barely there kiss still took flight in my belly. It was a feeling I loved and was grateful to have again. I mourned those damn butterflies for two years.

  He pulled back and grinned at me. Damp locks hanging across his brow made him look like a quintessential surfer boy minus the blond hair.

  “Hop on,” he said as he shifted the board between us and held it steady so I could climb on the front.

  Once I was in position, he eased himself on the back of the board, careful not to dump me in the cold water.

  “Paddle out,” he called up to me, the breeze taking his voice beyond me.

  I reached down and started moving my cupped hands through the water, guiding the front of the board through the undulating sea. Dawson’s head rested on my butt as he synchronized his
paddling with mine.

  When we got far enough out, Dawson sat up, allowing me to sit straddling the board. He pulled my body backwards into his. I sank back against his chest, the water gently bobbing us. The motion was soothing and torturous as it rubbed my back against his front. The fabric of the wet suit did little to disguise his body’s reaction to our proximity. Pride swelled in my heart at how much this famous man’s body responded to me when he could have anyone. But he chose me. His heart picked mine.

  “Want to try that one,” he pointed to the horizon, interrupting the emotional thought train I was on.

  My gaze followed the line of his finger. The sky was beautiful out there where the sun kissed the sea. My mind snapped a mental picture for me to recreate later.

  Turning to look over my shoulder at him, I pressed a quick kiss to his lips and said, “Sure.”

  We paddled out a little farther to get in perfect position to catch the wall of water heading our way. Once we were far enough out, we turned the nose of the board back towards the beach. Joe was a small speck amid a patchwork of color on the shore.

  “I’ll tell you when to pop up,” Dawson said from behind me. His head was turned to watch the approach of the coming wave.

  In no time, the swell of water was upon us. Because he was in the rear, Dawson jumped to his feet first. Beneath me, the board lifted slightly with the redistribution of weight. Once he was up and steady, he ordered me to pop up.

  Biting my lower lip, I hopped up and immediately jutted my arms out for balance.

  With his hand on my hip, Dawson guided me back on the board a tad. Wherever we touched, I heated. It was like satellite fires breaking out on my skin that were in direct contrast to the areas now being cooled by the offshore wind caressing my body. Dawson shifted his weight causing us to ride higher down the length of the swell as the cap of the wave curled over us. I looked over my shoulder and basked in the grin lighting up his face. Another snapshot to file away for later—vivid wall of water as the backdrop, crown of whitecap sending foamy spray out around his perfect form, muscles taut holding the classic pose, breathtaking smile and sparkles of sun bouncing off the sea.