by Eden Summers
He collapsed on top of her, trying to bear his weight on one elbow so he didn’t crush her. “You…are…” He couldn’t catch his breath. He was still mind blown. In disbelief of her perfection.
“Wonderful? Astounding? The best sex you’ve ever had?”
“All of the above.”
She released a bark of laughter and lowered her legs to the bed. For a moment, he felt bereft of her touch. He wanted more of her, not less. Then her arms came down, and her hands found his hair, and she drove him crazy all over again by the gentle way she scratched her nails through his buzz cut.
For the first time in months, he felt free. Failure had lost its grip on him. His heartache had dissipated. There was only him and Red, and the lingering high of climax. He wished he could stay here. With her. For as long as it took to turn his life around.
“Spend the night with me.” He kissed her shoulder, then her neck, and the sweet spot below her ear.
She moaned, and he wasn’t sure if it was an affirmation. All he knew was that it wasn’t a flat out rejection. That was enough for now.
His dick began to soften, and he groaned at the inevitable. “I better freshen up.”
Her arms gripped tight around his shoulders. “Stay.”
Damn you, pixie. “I’ll be back. Just let me get rid of the condom.”
Her arms loosened, falling limp to her sides. In the faint glow from his bedside clock, he could barely make out the softened features of her face, her eyes now closed. It took a lifetime to drag his body off of hers, to let the chill of loneliness sink under his skin as he padded to the bathroom. He’d always been a bachelor. A happy one, too. Now being alone ate at him.
As he strode back into the room, he grinned at the unmistakable sound of her slumber. If he had no care for waking her, he would’ve turned the bathroom light on, just to see a glimpse of her sleeping. Instead, he dragged his feet around the room in search of his clothes and got dressed. His truck was still in the public parking lot, and he didn’t want to leave it there overnight.
The time away would give him the opportunity to figure out what he was going to do once he returned—ply her with more sex so she never wanted to leave, or play it cool and sleep on his side of the bed so he didn’t push his luck.
Not really much of a decision. Out of the bedroom he could be a gentleman until his dying day, it just wasn’t an option between the sheets. The least he could do was pretend to ponder the high road while he was gone. And maybe have a little laugh at the unlikelihood.
Melody startled awake, her heart pounding, throat tight. Where the heck was she? There was only darkness. And nakedness.
“Sean.” The distant male shout brought clarity and fear. She was in Sean’s apartment, the man’s voice traveling from outside the front door.
“Sean,” she rasped into the dark.
No answer. There was no movement. Nothing. She was alone. What the hell? She scampered from the bed, hands and knees racing until she was on the floor to scour for her clothes. Her palms ran into the stiff underwire of her bra first, then the softness of her top, and finally the harsher material of her cargos. She had no clue if they were inside out or upside down, but she blindly rushed to tug them on. Not even a lack of panties was going to stop her from covering her insecurities.
“Sean, open the damn door,” the man shouted.
Oh, Christ. What the heck had Sean left her to deal with? She pushed to her feet, resigning herself to leave a hidden lingerie present for her long-lost lover. Whoever was looking for Sean was pissed, and she didn’t want to stick around to learn why. She padded barefoot from the room, increasing her pace as she tried to figure out where she’d left her shoes.
Downstairs. The reminder made her wince. She’d known Sean was working his moves on her. She’d known she wasn’t immune, and still she followed him home, her hormones leading the way.
The pounding continued at the front door, her scar echoing the beat, and she broke into a jog, descending the staircase to the music room two steps at a time. With a quick flick of the light on and off, she scrambled for her shoes and ran back up the stairs to the kitchen.
“Sean.” The masculine voice was louder now, and Melody could hear the faint hint of a slur. Whoever the man was, he wasn’t happy, and he was well and truly drunk.
“Sean.” This time the voice was defeated, almost pleading.
Yeah, Sean, where the hell are you?
She slipped on her shoes and scrounged through her pocket for her keys and credit card. As far as weapons went, it didn’t give her hope. Apart from pulling a knife from a kitchen drawer, she didn’t have much choice. With her chin raised, she approached the front entry hall, tiptoeing to mask the sound of her footsteps as she went in search of the peephole.
“Come on, man, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Shit. No damn peephole.
“Who’s there?” She raised her voice, adding steel to her tone.
A muttered curse followed. She was going to chew Sean a new one the next time she came across his thugalicious face. Where the heck had he gone? And what sort of famous musician lived in a penthouse without a damn peephole? Stupid asshole…then again, there wouldn’t be many people willing to take him on.
She pressed her chest against the door and placed her ear to the tiny crack of light shining from the other side. She needed to get her ass out of here. Even more than that, she didn’t want to come face to face with the drunken angry dude.
“Who’s there?” she asked again, already fed up with the dramatics.
Silence.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she muttered to herself. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
A barely audible grunt filtered through, followed by a thump of something against the floor on the other side of the door.
“It’s Ryan. Who’s this?”
Ryan? She wracked her brain, trying to remember Sean’s band members. There was Mason. The tattooed Adonis was Blake…crap, she couldn’t recall the other two.
“Ryan who?”
“Fuck this shit. I’m outta here.” There was a shuffle of sound, followed by retreating footsteps.
Good. She rested her ear against the wood, listening to the fading thump of his gait. Seconds ticked by and with each moment her lungs tightened. Damn it. Curiosity was getting the better of her. This guy had woken her up, made her scramble to get dressed, and now he was leaving without her even catching a glimpse of who had ruined her dreams.
Don’t do it. She gripped the door handle, ignoring her inner voice, and turned the knob to pull the door open a crack. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the bright light, she noticed a guy stalking down the hall, a large duffle in his hand. She wasn’t familiar with the view from behind—the rather nice view from behind. He had shoulder-length hair, raggedly falling just above his shoulders. Probably in the same messy state as hers. His blue jeans hugged a tight ass, and the loose black T-shirt hung from his leanly muscled frame.
“Ryan?” She slapped a hand over her mouth. Stupid woman. He could be a drug dealer for all she knew. A drug dealer with a nice butt and shoulders hanging low in defeat.
The guy stopped, turned, and fixed her with a scowl. “Yeah?”
Ah-huh. She knew who he was. He’d been at Mason’s engagement party. The man Sean had been propped up against when he’d passed out on the floor. One of the Reckless Beat band members, who currently focused a scowl her way, annoyed at her existence.
“Sean’s not here. I’m not sure where he is. Was he expecting you?”
“No.” His annoyance didn’t waver. He didn’t move. His eyes, although beautiful in their dark-blue shade, were filled with anger.
“Umm…” Awkward. “Well, I was just about to leave, if you want to come in.” To hell with Sean. He’d left her alone, going god knew where. She wasn’t going to spend a second feeling guilty about letting someone into his penthouse.
Ryan shrugged, lowering his gaze to his duffle as he staggered forward. He reac
hed the door and she held it wide, her heart rapidly beating in her chest. She could smell the booze on his breath, or maybe he’d bathed in it. Either way, he wasn’t in good shape.
“Are you all right for me to leave you alone?” Stupid question to ask an intoxicated stranger, but she felt compelled to break the silence.
He paused in the middle of Sean’s hall with his back to her. “I’m not gonna trash the joint if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I hadn’t spared it a thought,” she lied. “You just seem…out of sorts.”
He gave a derisive chuckle. “Drunk. That’s all. Don’t go making a story out of it.”
“Right…” She scowled and took a step out of Sean’s penthouse. “I’ll see you around.”
Ryan muttered a reply she didn’t care enough to hang around and decipher. The sex was over, drama had prevailed, so like a good little girl, she was going to skedaddle and focus on how the night started, not how it had ended.
***
Sean whistled as the elevator reached the penthouse floor. His truck was now safely in the apartment building’s private lot, and he had a smoking hot redhead to return to. He had big plans for her flexible body—naked, dirty plans that would keep them up well into the morning hours.
A grin split his face as the elevator doors opened, and in an instant, the sight greeting him stole his elation. “Red?”
She was pissed, her arms folded, forehead wrinkled, as she raised a brow and clenched her jaw. Pissed, yet somehow arousing the ever-loving shit out of him. It didn’t help that her hair was sex tangled, and her pants were covered in creases.
“Sean,” she muttered, stepping into the small space.
“Where the hell are you going?” He shoved his hands over the doors, making sure they didn’t close. He had plans. She couldn’t leave yet.
“After waking up alone in a stranger’s bed, I decided it was time to go home.” She faced the elevator panel and slammed her finger over the button to the lobby.
Fuck. “I was just movin’ my truck, that’s all. Come on, follow me back inside.”
“No, thanks.” She crossed her hands over her chest again.
“Fuck.” This time he couldn’t hold in the curse. “At least let me drive you home.”
She shook her head, still not meeting his gaze. “You can’t. You've got a visitor in your apartment who clearly needs your attention. I can catch a cab.”
“What?” The doors began to close, and he pushed them aside with a burst of annoyance. “Who?”
“Ryan.” Finally, she looked him in the eye. “He’s drunk. I wouldn’t leave him alone too long if I were you.”
“I’m going to fuckin’ kill him,” he muttered. “Did he tell you why he was here?” Apart from ruining my sex life.
“Nope. I don’t think he got the memo about me being your new secretary,” she drawled. “All he wanted to do was slam his fists on your front door and yell your name loud enough for my dead grandfather to hear. Apart from that, he wasn’t too communicative.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “OK. I’m sorry. Just give me a sec to deal with him, and I’ll drive you.”
“Forget it. I’ll be fine.” She dropped the scowl and lowered her arms to her sides. “I’ll find my own way.”
“Red, please.” He positioned himself between the doors as they began closing again, nailing him in the biceps. “At least take my truck.” He dangled the keys.
Her lips curved in a devilish way that should’ve made him worried for his pride and joy. Instead, the slight hint of her smile did crazy things to his heart rate as she batted his offering away. “There’s a cab stand across the road. I’ll see you next Sunday.” She stepped forward and pushed his chest.
He smirked, trying to hold in a laugh at her vain attempt to shift him from between the doors.
“Come here.” He grabbed the thin material of her top and yanked her forward. He stole her gasp with his lips, slanting them over hers in a punishing kiss. She still tasted the same, sweet with the slight bitter tang of coffee. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want to stop. And then she moaned, making his need to kill Ryan all the more potent.
“Bye,” she growled into his mouth, this time pushing him with earnest.
He smothered a groan as he stepped back and watched her grin disappear with the closing of the doors. Once the elevator began to descend, he clenched his fists, squeezing the keys tight in his grip.
“Motherfucker.” Sean cracked his knuckles as he stomped his dwindling hard-on down the hall and pushed open his front door with enough enthusiasm for it to smack against the inside wall. “Ryan?” The Reckless Beat rhythm guitarist was a dead man.
A moan rumbled from the living room, where Sean found a male form sprawled across the sofa.
“What the fuck, man? I’ve never been cock-blocked so hard in my life.”
“Welcome to my world.” Ryan pulled himself to a seated position, his shaggy hair falling in a tangled mess over his face. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Probably because you didn’t call first. What are you doing here?” Sean sank his ass onto the glass coffee table, placing his keys beside him as he frowned at his friend.
“Julie kicked me out.” He held Sean’s gaze for a second before lowering his head into his hands. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so fuckin’ sick of fighting with her.”
“Shit.” Sean stood and began to pace. He had no words. No advice. He was the least equipped to offer marriage counseling, especially toward a woman he had no time for. Julie had grown into an accomplished bitch. From what he could tell, the time apart from Ryan while Reckless was on tour had made her bitter. She no longer attended local gigs, or band celebrations. He doubted she supported Ryan at all unless it involved lowering his bank balance. “What do you want me to do? I can call Mitch. Or maybe Blake.”
“Sit down.” Ryan lifted his head to glare. “It’s not a fuckin’ intervention. All I need is a place to crash.”
“You flew all the way to Richmond to crash?” He sank his ass back onto the coffee table. “Why not stay in Mason’s New York apartment? Nobody’s living there.”
“Because this time I want to stay away. I want to see if she ends up missing me if I don’t go crawling back. In fact,” he lolled to the side, tugging his cell from his pants pocket. “Take this.” He shoved the device at Sean. “Don’t let me call her. Don’t let me text, or email, or fucking picture message.”
Sean placed the cell on the coffee table and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sure thing.”
Ryan didn’t deserve this. His buddy was all heart. Well, he had been, until Julie started fucking him over. She changed the cool, calm, and collected guy into someone who spent most of his time staring at the bottom of a bottle of Jack. The gentlemanly charm was vanishing under a heavy veil of scorn.
“I see you’ve got off to a quick start with your dancer lady.”
Sean was thankful for the new topic of conversation. Also thankful for the reminder of Red. That woman had a wicked way of putting a smile on his face even when she wasn’t around. “Yeah, I guess.”
Ryan raised a brow. “So, what’s she like?”
Heaven and hell. Fire and ice. “Different.”
“I’m-more-flexible-than-a-circus-freak different,” Ryan slurred, “or I’ve-got-hair-on-my-back different?”
Sean stifled a laugh. “Neither.” Although, her flexibility was something he planned on testing in a more extensive manner. “For a confident woman who performed all over the world with her dancing, she wouldn’t even have sex with the lights on. She also had certain exclusion zones I wasn’t allowed to touch.”
Ryan’s eyes bugged. “With a body like hers, I didn’t see that comin’.”
“Mmm.” Sean felt the same way. Something was off. Red was gorgeous. She walked with self-assurance and knew what it took to drive a guy wild. The sex stipulations didn’t match her looks or personality.
�
�Have you done a background check?”
“A background check?” Sean scowled. “You can’t be serious.”
“Otherwise known as a Google search.”
Sean rolled his eyes. “Do people really do that shit?” Who had the time? Or the energy? He hadn’t even had the foresight to hound Leah for information. Not that his band manager would’ve given him any. “Apart from searching the online directory for her studio address, I haven’t done any snooping. And I don’t plan to.”
Ryan leaned forward and fumbled as he retrieved his cell off the coffee table. “What’s her name?”
“Fuck off. I’m not spyin’ on her.” He stood and strode to the glass windows overlooking the river. The Internet had done enough damage to his life, and he detested how he had to use social media to gain any form of fan interaction.
“Just tell me her name.”
“No.” He grated through clenched teeth, not only because Ryan was being a pain in the ass, but because he couldn’t remember the woman’s god-damn name. He was a fucking moron. He had to stop calling her Red.
Maniacal, intoxicated laughter echoed off the walls. “You can’t remember, can you?”
Fuck! He strode back to Ryan and sank into the corner of the sofa. “It’s something dancerly…” And started with N or M, or maybe K. No. It wasn’t K. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.” It was on the tip of his god-damn tongue.
“You can’t even remember her first name?” Ryan’s mirth continued. “You’re such a dog.”
Guilty as charged. “Melody!” He stabbed a finger in Ryan’s direction. “Her name is Melody.”
A smirk tilted Ryan’s lips as he began typing with heavy fingers. “Do you know anything else about her? Surname? Who she used to dance for? Did she work with a specific company?”
They shouldn’t be doing this. It didn’t feel right. Searching for her secrets was like turning the lights on during sex when she’d specifically asked him not to. It was an invasion of her privacy. He couldn’t stop the hammering in his chest demanding he find out more about her.