The Forbidden Beat (A Stepbrother Romance)

by Sterling, Jillian

  "Where am I?" I asked. "And what the hell is that annoying beep?"

  "You're at Cedars-Sinai," he said.

  "In LA?" I asked, pushing myself up on my elbows and immediately regretting it. I dropped back down moving my IV'd hand around, looking for a comfortable spot to rest. "Weren't we in Vegas?"

  "You were Medevac’d to Cedars."

  "Medevac’d? Like in a helicopter?"

  "Nik, you were shot," he said. "Don't you remember?"

  I closed my eyes and tried to recall Vegas. I remembered the gig, the crowd going nuts, the encore with me singing. Oh god, I groaned. I sang. In front of like a zillion people.

  "You remember?" he asked, scrambling up from the arm chair.

  I shook my head. "Dion, I sang in front of all those people."

  "That's your takeaway from all this? I tell you that you were shot, and you're embarrassed because you sang."

  "Did I get shot because of my singing?"

  The tension around his mouth released when he smiled. He shook his head no.

  "Any other ailments? What part of me was shot?"

  "The left side of your abdomen," he said. "You really don't remember what happened?"

  "No," I said, watching his face darken. "Is that bad? Why do you look like that's bad?"

  "It's not bad, Nik," he said.

  "Stop lying," I said. "Did you beat the shooter up or something?"

  "Well, actually, yeah. I did."

  "Crap," I said. "And you need me to be a witness, don't you?"

  "No, the cops believe me. There were ballistics."

  "Damn this is like a real live episode of CSI. We were even in Vegas." I watched Dion pace the room, his brooding silence a little unnerving. "Dion, why does my throat hurt?"

  "They had you on a ventilator. It was shoved down your throat. It scratches the hell out of your throat when they remove it."

  "A ventilator?"

  "You almost died, Nik," he said. His eyes went rheumy and he blinked in rapid succession.

  "I almost died," I repeated.

  "Grimm and Vince wanted you treated at Cedars," he said.

  "Of course they did," I scowled. "The nurses on Grimm's payroll can feed the gossip rags information."

  "Now's not the time, Nik," he said. "Vince has been cool. Really. Grimm, too. They've been cool."

  "Okay," I said, taking a shaky breath. "So, why don't I remember anything?"

  "The doctor said trauma could do it."

  "As long as you're off the hook," I said. "Jail isn't all that friendly to pretty boys like you."

  He didn't laugh at my joke. "There were some things we said, just after. I wish you remembered."

  "Like what?" I asked.

  "Doesn't matter," he said. "You're going to be okay. No long term damage."

  "Did the song chart?"

  "What?"

  "Our song. Ruined. Did it chart?"

  He gave me a small smile. "It's holding at Number 5."

  "Damn," I said. "Can't catch a break. If I died, I bet it would hit number 1."

  "That's not funny," he said.

  "It's called gallows humor," I said, trying to suppress a chuckle. It hurt my stomach.

  We remained in silence for a moment, Dion standing over my bed like the world's most warped guardian angel.

  "Here, come sit," I said, patting space on the bed next to me. "You're making me nervous with all the hovering." He settled onto the edge of the bed, tentative around all the machines. "So you going to tell me who shot me?"

  "Brian," he said.

  "The EMT guy? Rogue Nation's biggest fan?"

  Dion just nodded and settled onto the edge of the bed.

  "Wow. I Didn't see that coming," I said.

  "Neither did we."

  "Why'd he shoot me?"

  "Because he's nuts," Dion said as if that explained it all away. "He was the one leaving the threats, Nik. Just an unhinged guy. It happens."

  "My sisters?"

  "They're fine," he said, running his fingers around the IV tube at the top of my hand.

  "They're not here?"

  "They were here earlier," he said.

  I glanced around the room. Dion's clothes were half stuffed in a hospital bureau, and from the open closet door I could see his dirty laundry heaped on the floor. A blanket and pillow rested on the chair he was snoozing in. "From the looks of this room, you've pretty much moved in."

  "I'm just glad you're okay," he said, getting up from the bed.

  I grabbed for his hand but the IV tube yanked me back. "Dion, what's going on? You're weird."

  "I'm just exhausted."

  ""Right," I said, closing my eyes. "You may as well go get some sleep in a real bed. I'm okay, the doctors have everything under control."

  "You know what, Nik? You're an asshole."

  My eyes snapped open. "Excuse me?"

  "You blamed me for those threats," he started.

  "Like I ever imagined there'd be a crazy fan on the lose?"

  "I told you it was a nut job, but no. You'd rather have your own imagined scenarios about asshole Dion rather than, oh I don't know, listening to me."

  "Dion," I started.

  "And then, I saved your ass. I went out there and faced off with a dude with a gun. Dude with a gun, Nik," he fumed.

  "Dion," I repeated.

  But he kept going. "Then I road in the damn ambulance with you. I covered the wound with my Metallica concert t-shirt. There was so much blood, Nik. So much fucking blood. I flew in a Medevac to LA with you. I've been by your side the entire time."

  "Okay, Dion, okay. Sorry. I didn't mean any offense. I'll alert the press that you're a goddamn hero, okay."

  "Fuck, Nik, I don't want to be a goddamn hero," he snapped. "What I want is for you to realize that I am not the guy you think I am!"

  The beeping on the monitor sped up as my anger rose. "Fine, hot shot. Tell me. Who do I think you are?"

  "I am not Vince Davis, screwing anything that moves," Dion exploded. "And you are not some throwaway groupie to me."

  I blinked at him. "What do you mean, I'm not a throw away groupie?"

  A nurse rushed into the room. "You're awake! Mr. Davis, why didn't you tell us she was awake?"

  He rounded on her. "Because we're talking here."

  "Mr. Davis," she said, her tone sharp. "You need to calm down. Her heart rate should not be that high right now. I'm getting the doctor."

  Dion turned to answer her but the nurse's exit from the room was swift. Dion sank down onto the bed. "Shit. I'm sorry, Nik."

  "Your Metallica tee? The one from their 30th anniversary show at the Fillmore?"

  "The very one."

  "Damn," I said with a smile. That was an epic concert, and he ruined the prized souvenir he took to remember the night. "You did that for me?"

  "Of course for you," he sighed. "Fuck it, Nik. You could have died and that scared the shit out of me, and I don't care if I wasn't anything to you. Because you are something to me. And I almost lost you once, and not going to risk losing you again."

  "But what about Vince and Pamela? You think they'll understand?"

  "Does that even matter?" he asked, jumping up from the bed and pacing the small room.

  "I don't know," I admitted. Did it matter what my mom and Vince thought of the whole thing? We were all adults.

  "And even if they don't understand, I don't give a goddamn," he said. He paced the room faster, hands flying, adding emphasis to his words. "And I don't care if people think it's weird. Or Rafe gets all shitty about it. And I don't care about Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks. Or Meg and Jack White."

  I smiled. "Or Sonny and Cher?"

  "Especially not Sonny and Cher," he said. "I care about you. And me. And us. Together. And if that means Rogue Nation gets kicked to the curb, well, Rafe'll be pissed but I'm not going to risk losing you."

  "Dion?"

  "No, don't argue with me," he said. "I know you feel the same way. You have to feel th
e same way."

  "Dion."

  "You don't feel the same way?"

  "Dion, shut up and kiss me," I said.

  "Seriously?"

  I nodded. He leaned over, about to put his lips on mine. And I turned my face at the last minute and he planted a kiss on my cheek.

  "That's not exactly what I was going for, Nik," he said. "I thought we were okay."

  "I don't know when I brushed my teeth last,' I admitted. "My mouth feels like something died in it."

  He laughed and got up. After poking around the room, he came up with a crappy toothbrush and a small tube of generic toothpaste. We make-shifted a sink with one of those kidney shaped buckets and a plastic cup.

  "Open wide," Dion said, slipping the toothbrush into my mouth. He brushed my teeth, focusing on all sides of each tooth, careful not to scrape my gums with the stiff brush.

  "Better?" he asked when he finished. I swished water around in my mouth and spit it into the kidney shaped bowl.

  "Much," I said. He wiped my mouth with a paper towel. "You're not completely turned off right now?"

  "Not even close," he said. "Now, can I kiss you for real?"

  "How's my hair?" I asked, running the hand without the IV through the tangles.

  "Shut up and kiss me," he said.

  He leaned over me and his lips touched mine, gentle at first. The kiss lingered and he sat back down on the edge of the bed, lips stronger, more forceful. He teased my mouth open with his tongue.

  "Minty fresh," he teased without lifting his lips off of mine.

  He caught the back of my neck with his hand and his mouth pressed into mine harder, his tongue probing my mouth with more urgency. His hand moved down, tracing the curve of my breast through the thin hospital gown. I trembled when his hand swept over the bullet wound.

  "You okay?" he asked. "Hurts?"

  "A little," I admitted.

  He pulled back, but I grabbed his hand. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "I don't want to hurt you," he said.

  "I trust you," I whispered.

  He kissed me again, and his hand wandered under the sheet, creeping up my bare thigh. He found my sex, already slick with desire.

  The beeps from my heart rate monitor went off the charts. I yanked it off my finger to shut the damn thing up. Then with my free hand, I tugged at the top of his jeans.

  "Right here?" he asked, helping me release the button.

  "Right here," I said.

  "What about the nurse? She said she's coming back with the doctor."

  "Then we better speed it up then, don't you think?"

  I eased his zipper down and pulled out his hardening cock. He moaned as wrapped my hand around his shaft and stroked.

  He pushed the sheet off of me and I spread my legs open. He pulled his jeans down to his hips and nestled in between my legs, careful not to dislodge the IV. I recoiled when his ab bumped against the bullet wound.

  "Dammit," he said, pulling back again.

  "No." I gripped his cock harder and yanked him back towards me. He leaned over and planted his elbows on either side of my body, careful not press on me.

  I guided his penis to my wet opening, teasing the head against my swollen lips. He pushed into me gently, easing it in.

  He paused. "Okay?"

  I nodded. He maneuvered his body around mine, careful not to lean on me. I lifted my hips a bit, impatience getting the best of me.

  "Easy there," he said with a sly smile. "We have to take this easy."

  Leaning on one elbow, he tugged up my hospital gown. He feathered kisses along the curves of my breast, stopped to tease my nipple firm with his tongue. He brushed his thumb over the other one. I gasped in pleasure when as he pushed further into me.

  He kept up this slow tease, working my breasts with his hand and mouth, inching his thick, rigid cock into me. When I finally took all of him up to the hilt, I came. It wasn't an intense, rushed orgasm, but it was long, my inner walls pulsing against him, taking him to climax as well.

  "I love you, Nik," he whispered into my ear after his final shudder.

  "I love you, too."

  He took me in his arms, careful not to dislodge the IV line or bump up against my wound, and he held me. I feel asleep in his arms.

  Epilogue

  "Nikki, wake up."

  I felt a rough shove against my shoulder.

  "Come on, Nik, wake up."

  Another rough shove and music, which was playing low in the background, blared out of the speaker.

  I opened one eye. Dion hovered over me, his non-shoving hand held a remote, a finger pressed the "louder" button.

  "You don't want to sleep through this," he shouted above the music.

  "Dion, Mrs. Roper is going to call the cops," I said, referring to my caftan wearing downstairs neighbor. Her name wasn't really Mrs. Roper, but she reminded me of the crazy landlord from Three's Company. Devlin and I used to let me watch the old show on DVD while we waited in the van for my mom and Vince to finish their "alone time" on the tour bus.

  I made a groggy reach for the remote but Dion was too quick for me. He held it above his head.

  One song ended and a DJ started prattling off a rundown of the top nine songs he already played. Just as he announced the song that landed in the number one spot, a familiar chord progression began.

  I bolted upright. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  Dion bounced up and down on the bed, unable to contain his excitement. Ruined blared out of the speaker.

  "Number one? Number one!"

  He grabbed me and swept me into his arms. "Number-fucking-one, baby!"

  We twined our arms around each other in bed and listened to our song hit number one on the Billboard alternative charts. He turned the speaker off with the remote when it was over.

  "You think we'll break Top 10 pop charts?" I asked.

  "Do you really want to?" he asked. "The trend is pre-teen boy bands."

  "Maybe we can break the trend, get real rock and roll back in the top 40.

  "I like your spirit," he said. His hands began to wander over my body. "And your tits."

  I laughed.

  "This is no laughing matter," he said. "How should we celebrate?"

  "I can think of a few ways," I said, settling back into my pillows and letting him kiss me. Just as we were getting to the good stuff, there was a sound in the other room.

  "That sounded like a knock," I murmured around his kiss.

  "Did it?" he asked, his hands pulling at my underwear. "Maybe it was a woodpecker."

  "You said woodpecker," I teased him, feeling his hard-on through the confining cotton of his boxers.

  Dion laughed. "What are you, a 10-year-old boy?"

  Another knock, this time harder. I went limp against the mattress in defeat.

  "Nope, it's a knock," I said. "Probably Mrs. Roper. I told you not to turn up the speakers like that."

  I swung my legs over to the side of the bed and reached for me robe. Immediately I regretted the swiftness of my movements. I dropped back down onto the bed, dizzy.

  "Whoa, Nik," Dion's arm was around my back, holding me steady. "Slow down, babe. You only just got the stitches out. I'll deal with Mrs. Roper."

  He got up and plucked a pair of sweat pants up off the floor. He stepped into them and I stared at his firm abs as he secured the string around his hips. I kept one eye on his perfect ass as he walked out of the bedroom to get the door.

  I pulled my robe around me and this time took my time getting up. By the time I stepping into the living room, Presley was shrugging off her denim jacket and pacing around the room.

  "Pres, what's up?" I asked, tying the belt of robe tighter around my waist.

  "You got any coffee?" she asked. Her eyes, bare of makeup, were bloodshot.

  "I'll put a pot on," I said, heading to the coffee maker.

  "You sit, I got this," Dion said, jumping in front of me.

  "Dion, I can handle a pot of coffee."
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  "Hmmm," he said, looking me up and down. "Who almost fell just getting out bed just now?"

  "I got up too fast, that's all. A pot of coffee isn't going to kill me," I responded. "Come on, the doctor said I should try to do normal things. What's more normal than making coffee?"

  Dion scowled at me, but stepped out of my way. While I puttered around the kitchen, Dion hovered. He grabbed things off shelves for me, making sure I didn't exert too much energy. Exasperating as it was, he was too damn adorable to stay annoyed with him for long.

  Presley sat on a stool at the breakfast bar just watched the two of us doing our kitchen dance. The silence was broken by the sound of the coffee grinder and Presley's sniffles. Once the coffee was brewing and I was seated next to my sister, Dion made a nod at the door.

  "You two want some alone time or something?" he asked.

  Presley's sigh was filled with drama. "No, this concerns both of you."

  I chewed my lower lip and my eyes jumped between her and Dion. "What'd we do now?"

  "I thought we all agreed that the subject of and me and Nikki was off limits," he fumed.

  It took time, but Rafe, Presley and Jett were dealing with our relationship. Vince was more circumspect than angry. His concern was Rogue Nation. If Dion and I broke up, he didn't believe Rogue Nation would survive it. I pointed out that No Doubt went on to have a fruitful career even after Gwen Stefani and Tony Kanal split up. Of course, this ended up causing a big fight between me and Dion. Dion insisted that we were for keeps. He was pissed that I even considered breaking up an option. It was sweet.

  Pamela, however, was furious. She exploded and threatened to call the cops. Not like they could do anything. We were both of legal age and we were not blood related. But she went so far as to dial 911 on her phone and press send. Vince smacked the phone out of her hand, but since 911 was on the line, they sent a car over and she threatened to press charges against Vince for spousal battery. In short, it was a shit-show.

  So of course it blew up the internet. Alice "Banshee" Monroe spent close to a week fielding phone calls. She cackled the entire time.

  "It concerns you two but it has nothing to do with you two," Presley said with a sniffle.

  Dion leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his dead sexy chest. "Now that that's cryptically clarified."

  "Have you been crying?" I asked. I felt like an idiot, the lack of makeup, the sniffling. Of course she was crying.