Finding Rhythm (Rogue Rockstar Series Book 4)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  Of course she would have known his performance of that emotional piece meant he was ruminating on something. She was too clever not to know his moods by now. Again, it didn’t mean he wanted to talk about the thought process Celia had inspired. He’d rather deflect into the other issue that had been bothering him.

  “Tell me why not, Fee,” he told her.

  Pulling away from him, she looked into his eyes for a long moment. “Is it really what you want?”

  “Yes. Yes. You know it is.”

  “I’m not going anywhere—”

  “That’s not the point. I’m not wanting to marry you to trap you—”

  “Shh, I know.” She kissed him and now he felt the urgency in her lips.

  Her desire ignited his, and he kissed her insatiably. He wanted her. Wanted her to be his. Pulling her leg up to his waist, he pushed himself against her. She was right there with him, grinding her hips against him and ready for more. With one swift move, he grabbed her backside and lifted her up so she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He held her to him, keeping their kisses going as he carried her to the bedroom. Releasing her onto the bed, he kept eye contact as he undressed. She watched him in return, not taking anything off herself. Seeing him undress was one of her favorite things.

  First, he kicked off his shoes and discarded his socks. Then he released the catch on his belt and opened his pants so that his erection wasn’t painfully constrained. Pulling his shirt off over his head, he saw the way her eyes trailed down his chest. Working out had started as a way to control his physicality, but he learned early on that women were just as turned on by visuals as men. He knew that his body turned Felicity on. It made him eager to shed the rest of his clothes.

  Once he was completely naked before her, she stood, letting him remove her clothes. He took his time, teasing her as he went, with the back of his hand sliding against the curve of her breast or his fingers slipping between her upper thighs and rubbing against the spot that was already sensitive in anticipation. All the while, he was swollen and increasingly impatient.

  “Sit,” she said softly, pushing him onto the edge of the bed.

  He watched as she turned her back to him and guided him into her as her thighs pressed against his. Stifling a moan, he wrapped his arm around her waist. Loosely, though, so that she had the freedom to keep doing what she was by moving her hips in a slow circular motion. This was one of his favorite positions because he could watch the twin dimples at the small of her back and her tight little ass while she set the pace. She was doing such a good job of it that he was getting close to coming. He reached around to touch her but she dragged his hand away and up her belly, to her breast. Gladly taking the invitation, he used both hands to squeeze her breasts and toy with her nipples while kissing her neck.

  In a quick move that surprised him, she pulled completely away, turned around and pushed him all the way onto the bed so he was on his back. Straddling him, she started to build his excitement all over again. She leaned down and kissed him as she raised and lowered her hips. With this, she had taken all control even though he had wanted to be the one to possess her. He pulled his mouth from hers and raised her higher against him so he could take her nipple into his mouth, knowing the combination of that with his penetration would quickly send her over the edge. When she caught her breath and a soft moan escaped her lips, he felt her thighs tremble. He gave her five seconds to recover before he grabbed her hips and helped her work movements. But again, she took control by sitting up and rocking against him. The sight of her body as she leaned backward slightly, the feel of being deep inside her sent him over the edge.

  She leaned back to him, kissing him before lying flat against his chest, rising and falling with his breaths as he held her to him.

  “You should ask me,” she said. “Like really ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  She raised her head and just looked at him until he understood.

  “Oh. Yes,” he said.

  Peeling herself away from him, she settled on her back against pillows, one arm resting over her head and a trace of a smile on her lips.

  At the same time she was relaxing, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. He had asked Colette to marry him. Twice. Neither time was out of careful consideration or planning. But marrying Felicity was something he had given a lot of thought to. There was no doubt in his mind she was the one for him.

  Turning on his side, he faced her and prepared to finally ask her the question he had known for months he wanted to ask her. “Felicity, will you—”

  “Do you remember when you took me up on the London Eye for a private Ferris Wheel spin overlooking the city at midnight?”

  This change of topic threw him. He swallowed and tried to think what she was after. “I, em, yes, I do.”

  “We had champagne.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you even rubbed my feet.”

  “I did.”

  She glanced at him, then back up at the ceiling. “Con, that was the absolute most romantic night of my life. Only, it shouldn’t have been because you weren’t mine then.”

  No, he had been engaged to Colette at that time and stubbornly holding to that commitment despite all evidence suggesting it was the wrong match. And that Felicity was the right match. He wouldn’t figure that out until months later.

  “Still, it is a beautiful memory,” she continued.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “It’d be lovely to have another romantic memory to go with you asking me this question you have.”

  Now Conor understood. It wasn’t much to ask. She wanted to be romanced and though he wasn’t usually one for grand gestures, she brought out in him a desire to woo and wow her. But with having been away on tour so much, he hadn’t followed up on that new instinct. What better excuse to do so now than with a marriage proposal? Especially one she had finally signaled she was open to.

  “There’s no hurry, sweetheart,” she told him as she stretched out in bed.

  Her milky skin was mostly exposed among the pale blue bedding and Conor watched her for a moment, enjoying her casual confidence. Even after having experienced a devastating and unexpected divorce from her husband of eight years, she was comfortable with herself and it was sexy as hell. Sure, she had been shaken by the demise of the relationship she thought would last forever, but in the end it had allowed her to reconnect with her true self. And it allowed her to end up here, as his girl.

  He trailed his fingers over her flat belly and up to her breasts, gently teasing her, before cupping her cheek in his hand. “I’ll work on it, honey. Gotta make another memory for us, don’t I?”

  Her contented smile told him she was finally ready to stop putting up walls with him. It was the best feeling in the world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “I’m fearing for my life. You need to get here quick as you can.”

  Gavin furrowed his brow, confused by his mother’s plea. The fact that Bernadette had never once phoned him before led him to answer her call, even as it disrupted the tender and special moment he and Sophie had been having with her prediction of being pregnant again. She hadn’t said hello, but rather had made this entreaty in a hushed, but insistent tone. He knew her to be emotionally and mentally unreliable at times, but there was something in her voice that made him take her seriously.

  “What is it? What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Just come, won’t you? I need you, son.”

  Her use of the endearment triggered something in him. He couldn’t remember her ever calling him that. But then again, her abandoning him when he was seven years old had likely impaired his memories. They had only been reconciled for two years and hadn’t exactly formed a close bond. It was a complicated situation, and they each were reluctant to put in the work that was required to repair their damaged relationship.

  “It’ll take me two hours to get down to you,” Gavin told her. “Should I call the Garda for you?”
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  “No, I don’t want police involved. I need you. You’re the only one, Gavin,” Bernadette said. “It’s Ian. He’s come here and I swear I’m fearing for my life.”

  Ian. Great. Ian was Gavin’s older brother. They had never seen eye-to-eye, and had had an irreparable falling out a few years ago when Ian sold to Vanity Fair the previously untold story of their mother’s abandonment. The story, with Ian’s guidance, had urged Rogue fans to see Gavin’s lyrics about the mother he had long claimed to have “lost” as a child as manipulative lies meant to stoke album sales. The truth was that Gavin had never admitted that his mother simply left, rather than died, because it was easier—easier than explaining what had really happened, and easier on his and her privacy. He had convinced himself, in fact, that she would seek him out once she was ready, fantasizing that her absence was self-protection until she was capable of being a mother to him again. When he finally recognized that this thought process was foolish wishful thinking, he sought her out and found her to be living a solitary life not far from Dublin in Rosslare Strand.

  Their reunion had been a confusing mix of emotions and without ultimate resolution. His few subsequent visits had been similar. Bernadette was fragile and generally ill-equipped to recognize the effect of her actions. At her insistence, Gavin hadn’t shared with his brother or father their meetings. But when she showed herself to be especially shaky upon meeting Daisy for the first time, he took it upon himself to come clean with Ian and his father.

  “What the fuck do I care about that bitch?” Ian had spat out.

  “Ian, calm yourself,” Brendan, their father had said.

  The rest of their conversation continued along those lines—Ian expressing anger and disdain at meeting with the woman who had cowardly disappeared from their lives, and Brendan focusing on talking Ian down rather than expressing his own feelings on the discovery.

  It was only later, when Ian stormed out, that Brendan told Gavin he had known for some years where Bernadette was living. And so, it seemed that both of his parents had decided to hide from each other. It didn’t take long for Gavin to understand why Brendan never said anything to them. Doing so would open up more hurt. Brendan had raised his boys as a single father. He wasn’t an emotionally open man and could seem cold, but he had done everything he could to steer his sons away from dwelling on what their mother had done. Rather than speaking ill of her, he didn’t speak of her at all. And he never allowed the boys to get caught up in sentimentalism of what they lost. Because of that, Gavin internalized it all before finding the outlet of music. And Sophie. Music and Sophie were his salvations. He could never see what Ian’s were. He was a man old before his time, wound tight, and convinced his worldview was the only legitimate one.

  But if Ian was at their mother’s home now and she was truly fearing for her life, he might have just snapped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The interior of Bernadette's small home was amply lit, allowing Gavin to see movement through the lace curtain-covered windows. Speeding the whole way, he’d made good time, but now he wasn’t sure what to expect as he walked up the path to his mother’s Kelly-green front door.

  Driving down, he had thought over his mother’s choice of words in her call. Saying she feared for her life was dramatic. It just didn’t jibe with what he knew of Ian. Ian was an asshole, but he was no threat to anyone. Gavin didn’t truly believe there was a dangerous situation going on. It had to be some sort of argument that had gotten out of hand.

  But as he stood by the door, he heard nothing. No conversation or shouts or crying.

  Fuck, how he wished he could be back home. Daisy would be waking up about now, wanting to nurse before falling asleep in their bed. He’d doze until Sophie fell back asleep, then watch both her and his daughter in the darkened room for a while. Finally, he’d rouse himself enough to carefully pick up Daisy and take her back to her room and settle her into her crib. Slipping back into bed, Sophie would reach for him without really waking and they’d sleep deeply until Daisy cried out again. Or, he would take the opportunity to coax Sophie into making love, using the quiet to their benefit while it lasted. That’s what they did now as parents—find ways and times to keep their sex life alive. And if Sophie really was pregnant, it looked like they had done a good enough job in that endeavor.

  Since he wasn’t where he wanted to be, though, he went ahead and knocked on the door. It was only a moment before the door was pulled open and he saw what his mother had been dealing with.

  Ian stood before him, disheveled as usual. If Ian didn’t carry around extra weight and made a better effort at grooming, he and Gavin would have looked almost like twins. But as it was, Gavin had inherited the naturally slim build, good hair, and rugged handsomeness that Ian lacked. Whereas Ian walked around with a chip on his shoulder, Gavin projected relaxed confidence and charisma. There was a reason one of them was a rock star and the other was an accountant.

  The look in Ian’s bloodshot eyes at seeing Gavin there was deadly. And then Gavin noticed Ian held something in his hand. It looked like a florist’s knife. It was just over two inches in length, slightly curved at the tip, with a green grip. Their mother ran her own flower shop out of her home, so the tool wasn’t out of place. Seeing Ian in possession of it was surprising, though. Gavin decided it was best to ignore what he had seen.

  “What in bloody hell are you doing here?” Ian asked.

  “I was just going to ask you the same. Everything all right?” Gavin asked as he pushed his way into the house.

  Bernadette was seated in an armchair, staring with glassy eyes at the battered steamer trunk used as a coffee table. Plump, and with a head of brown curls streaked with gray, she appeared grandmotherly. It wasn’t a role she was fit to play, however.

  “It’s fine,” Ian said sharply. “I was just having a chat with our dear mother.”

  “Grand. I’ll be happy to join you then.”

  “You had your chance, didn’t you? I don’t need you to get involved, Gavin.”

  “Bernadette, how are you?” Gavin asked.

  She didn’t respond. Gavin looked at his brother. “What’s been happening here, Ian?”

  “Talk. Talk. Talk. To make up for all the years she stole from me.”

  Ian’s voice was seething with anger, but what alarmed Gavin was the way he was now gripping the knife. Half of the blade was crushed inside his closed fist. Drops of crimson blood oozed out and fell to the scarred wood floor, but he seemed unaware.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking—how about a lovely cuppa? Then we can all do some talking—”

  “What I think, is that this is none of your goddamn business and you should get out of here. I’m not done talking to our mother.”

  Fuck. Was it going to come down to Gavin having to wrestle his brother for the knife? No, he didn’t want to risk that. He would have to employ the thing that had earned him both trouble and success over the years: his mouth. He’d have to de-escalate this thing with talk.

  “Well, what have you covered so far?” Gavin asked with a casualness he didn’t feel. He sat in the mismatched armchair next to his mother. She finally looked at him, her eyes focusing for what must have been the first time in a while. A fatigued smile crossed her lips briefly before disappearing.

  “Gavin, this isn’t about you,” Ian said. “Not every fucking thing is about you. When will you ever learn that?”

  Gavin laughed. “Probably never, to be honest. You know me, pretty self-centered.”

  The aw-shucks attitude he had copped wasn’t going over well with Ian. His brother was holding the knife tighter and the blood was streaming from his flesh rather than coming out in drops. He’d never seen his brother so undone, and it made him feel something for him he hadn’t felt in many years: sympathy.

  Ian never had time for Gavin when they were kids. When their mother left, Ian grew up fast and did his own thing. Eventually, Gavin found his footing with music. It was a pursuit Ian derided from
the start, but it would take years for Gavin to understand that Ian wasn’t jealous of the attention he got from being a musician, but rather jealous of the release it granted him. Knowing this didn’t help Gavin feel for Ian, though. They were just born opposites. Not all siblings were destined to have a connection. And that was made definitively clear when Ian went to the media about their personal business. Ian had claimed he was tired of Gavin’s posturing about their mother and wanted to set the record straight. Gavin would never forgive him for it.

  And yet, seeing Ian now as he was having some sort of breakdown, made Gavin think about all the years of stoicism he’d showed. He’d bottled up his feelings, never acknowledging the trauma of being abandoned. It had been almost a full year since Gavin had told Ian about their mother’s whereabouts. Ian had held it together until now.

  “What brought you here, Ian,” Gavin asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” Ian said reflexively.

  “You know, I didn’t tell you and Da this, but want to know how I figured out where she was? It all started with a dream I had—”

  “Bloody typical. Always with your head in the clouds,” Ian said with a derisive laugh.

  “Yeah, well. I’m saying that’s how it started. What about you? Last I heard, you had no interest in seeing her. What changed your mind?”

  “He said he wanted to see my face, and me to see his,” Bernadette said, surprising them both with her interjection. “He said he wanted to see me once to remind me what he looked like because I’d never see him again.”

  Gavin nodded and stood. “Okay, fair enough,” he said. “Time to go, then, yeah?”

  “What?” Ian asked.

  “Time to be on our way. You’ve seen her and there’s no doubt she’ll remember you always. Now, why don’t we leave this here.” Gavin deftly plucked the florist’s knife out of Ian’s now slack fist and threw it across the room to the large butcher block island in the kitchen. Ian didn’t even acknowledge what Gavin had done.