by McAdams, Mia
“Ha! Says the forever bachelor.”
He growls and rolls his eyes. “No. You did not just bring up ‘Forever Bachelor.’ I could have killed my career with that show. Damn near did.”
“Tuned in every Sunday night. You were a real ladies’ man, that’s for sure. Did you have to kiss every single female contestant, though?”
“Yes,” he responds with a smile and puff of his chest. “I didn’t want to play favorites.”
“What was the point of that show, anyway?”
“They wanted me to ride off into the sunset with one of them, and that was supposed to be the big twist. That a rock star like me would go on a show claiming to be a forever bachelor and then wind up falling in love. It didn’t exactly turn out the way they wanted.”
There are tears in my eyes from laughing. “You picked a winner at the end, though. Said you were in love with her.”
“Lies! All lies. We broke up a minute after the director yelled ‘Cut.’ She despised me by the end of the show.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
My dad shakes his head. “I didn’t claim to be the perfect male specimen. I just know that my daughter should never date a man like me.”
“Daddy, you’re a good man.”
“Not good enough for my daughter to speak to me.”
His words make my heart ache. “Things just got . . . difficult. I don’t know. Mom stole a huge part of me, you know? I had big dreams. Not to follow in my parents’ footsteps, exactly, but I was determined to collaborate with the hottest artists and work in a studio just like this one. After I found out what she did, I hated her and all her reasons why. Even when I first moved in with her and she was never there, I didn’t hate her. I’d always hoped she’d come around.”
“You still don’t hate your mother. You’ll probably be mad at her forever, and you have every right to be, but your heart doesn’t hold hate, Lyric. That’s not you.”
I turn my head toward him and frown. “It sure feels like hate. She had zero remorse for what she did—not even when I cried to her. I never felt more alone.”
“You weren’t alone, not at all. I fought the label for you. I would have done more, but you told me to stay out of it. I figured there was more to the story than I was privy to. Pumpkin, I would have done anything for you. Still would. Your mother . . . I should have never sent you to live with her.”
I do not want to cry right now. The tears are pricking the backs of my eyes, and my throat feels swollen. I’m twenty-two years old and I’m still crying about my parents. It’s time I move on from this. I just don’t want to be angry anymore.
My father slips a hand into mine, and my heart expands with love for this man. God, I’ve missed him. Eventually I give up trying to hide the tears. His face mirrors mine with emotion. “Let’s do something together. Like old times.”
At first I’m confused, but then I realize his eyes have moved from my teary face to the piano. I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”
“You were just playing. Come on. Play something with me.”
I take a deep breath. If I’m going to get over the drama in my life, I might as well start right now. He helps me to my feet, and we sit next to each other on the piano bench.
He smiles as his fingers play around the keys a little until an idea comes to him.
“You ready?”
“What are we playing?”
He winks at me. “You’ll know in three notes.”
He plays the first line of the verse, and my entire body relaxes in recognition at my favorite Natasha Bedingfield song. “‘Wild Horses.’ I still love that song.”
Then, without another word, my father’s fingers move angelically across the keys, his eyes closed, and he waits. I laugh, knowing what he wants me to do. I thought we were just going to play together.
He wants me to sing.
I take a deep breath, feeling somewhat shaky. I haven’t sung in years, unless you count the occasional shower session. He replays the start of the verse, and this time I’m ready. I close my eyes, excited to feel the impact of the music as I let the words lift from my diaphragm and out into space. Once again, I’m overwhelmed with emotion and buzzing from the acoustics of the room. It’s always hit me hard—but this feeling . . . I forgot what this felt like.
“Baby girl, you’ve still got it,” my dad says after he hits the last note. It lingers in the air, and my chest is so full it feels as if it’s going to burst. I’m breathing hard, still reeling from the energy in the room. I needed that reminder.
A slow clap starts from the back of the room, and I don’t need to look up to know who it belongs to. My heart races. I should have known Wolf would walk in. When I finally look, I’m met with an expression of surprise and pride. He tries to hide the hurt, but I know it’s there. Another secret exposed, and he has no idea why I would hide my voice from him.
“Looks like we have an audience.” My dad stands and jumps from the stage.
I watch in horror as the two most important men in my life walk toward each other and shake hands.
Wolf
Mitch Cassidy extends a hand. I take it without hesitation as I meet the eyes of my idol and, more importantly, Lyric’s father. I’m standing in front the man I looked up to more than I did my own father when I was growing up. With a reputation for being the most respectable rocker in the industry, and with the talent this man slays on the stage, I feel as if I’m in the company of rock royalty. Yet all I can think about is how Lyric’s secrets continue to grow into a mountainous pile.
I’m trying to keep the hurt from seeping through. At some point I’m going to have to sort through it all to figure out if anything surfacing is significant enough to be upset over. Except, I’m pissed. And fucking confused.
“Wolf, I presume.”
Mitch is searching my face, and it’s obvious he’s already caught on to my befuddled expression. “Yes, sir. Mitch Cassidy. I’m a huge fan. Of you—and your daughter.”
Mitch laughs, relieving some of the tension I brought into the room. “You didn’t know my daughter could sing.”
I shake my head. “We’re still getting to know each other, sir.”
He makes a face. “None of that ‘sir’ crap. Mitch is fine. I hear your tour is going well. And your chart rankings are phenomenal. Congratulations. I’m a fan of the latest album, but I’m hoping for more of the ‘Dangerous Heart’ sound on the next one.” He winks, and it’s clear he knows who wrote that song. Lyric probably didn’t even have to tell him.
Hearing Mitch Cassidy compliment me might just be the highlight of my career. “Thank you. It’s been quite the ride. And I agree. We’ve been working with a talented writer who chooses to stay anonymous.”
Mitch’s eyes crinkle, and when I get a good look, I can see where Lyric gets her heart. She carries it in her eyes just like her father. “Hopefully not forever.”
Lyric approaches us, and I almost forget that I’m mad at her. Her eyes are already pleading with me to not be upset. I’m not about to have this conversation here in front of her father, so I wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“Are you guys on break?”
“Lunch. Someone said Mitch was here, and I wanted to introduce myself. I thought you left.”
She looks at her father and smiles. “I got caught up in old memories, and then we ran into each other. I really should get going, though. I have a million things to do for Europe.” When her eyes meet mine, I want to ask her so many questions. “Walk me out?”
I nod and turn back to Mitch. “It was great to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He smiles, looking at Lyric. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
Lyric hesitates, and I can feel her body stiffen. I’m so confused by her right now, and I have no idea how to interpret her reactions. “I think so. Maybe for a couple hours.”
“How about lunch? Can you make time for your old man?”
“Um, yea
h. Okay. Let’s do lunch tomorrow.”
We wave good-bye, and I lead Lyric out to the front door. Making sure we’re alone once outside, I turn to face her. “What the hell was that?”
I don’t mean to sound angry, but what the fuck? Lyric blanches and steps away from me. Shit. I hate when she pulls away every time I have an honest reaction. I pull her back and tilt her chin so her eyes meet mine. “You sing? You still play? What else are you keeping from me?”
She looks down and then back up into my eyes. “I haven’t done that in years. My dad asked me to, and I couldn’t say no. It’s all in my past.”
“But why? Baby, you’re so good. I don’t know what I was listening to, but your voice is fucking amazing.”
She groans. “It’s just an old dream. It’s not what I want anymore.” Her eyes dart around us, and I sigh, knowing she’s not about to divulge any more to me now.
“All right, then I’ll see you tonight?”
She looks shocked, as if she’s expecting a fight. I’m tired of fighting. “Okay.” She wraps her arms around my waist and lifts up onto her tiptoes to kiss me.
I can’t help it. I hesitate a little, still consumed with all the secrets. This girl I love more than life scares the shit out of me.
“Wolf?”
I look down and meet her the rest of the way. It’s a hurried kiss, one I know will leave us both uneasy, but I’ve got other things on my mind right now. She gives me another backward glance when she gets into the car, and then the driver takes off. It all feels wrong.
“Fuckface! Get in here. You have ten minutes to eat, and then we need to work.” Derrick is holding the door open for me. Terese is by his side.
“Where’d Lyric go? Does she know her dad’s here?”
I walk through the door and give her a nod. “Yeah, she knows. She went back to the house to work.”
Everything about me is tense for the rest of the day. Luckily, most of what’s being recorded are the instrumentals. Not as much with the vocals. It’s probably not a good thing, actually. It gives me too much time to sit back and stew when I should be listening to the cuts. Usually our band manager would be heavily involved in this part. Crawley always wanted to put his two cents in. I hate to admit it, but with him gone, I’m a bit lost.
“What do you think, Wolf? We need to finish this one today. I know you want to hear it all, but we’re losing time.”
Our sound engineer is the shit. He’s well-paid and knows how to keep things moving in the studio. I respect him, but his push isn’t helping my attitude.
“Wait a sec.” I get up and walk out of the room, hoping to find the one person who might be able to give it to us straight in a way that we’ll listen to. He’s right outside the door with his cell phone to his ear. When he sees me, he tells whomever it is he’ll call them back.
“Wolf, everything okay?”
I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous. Could it be because I’m standing in front of Mitch? Or because Mitch is Lyric’s father? Or because of what I’m about to ask him? “It’s kind of a long story, but our band manager, Crawley—”
“I’m aware of the prick. Go on.”
I laugh. “Okay, well, we’re kind of between band managers right now, and usually I’d count on Crawley for his input.”
“What do you need? An ear?”
I stare at Mitch. I can’t believe I’m asking him this. “Could you? I mean, I don’t want to tell the guys, but I’m a little lost right now without him. He was a prick, and I don’t regret letting him go, but he had a good ear.”
Mitch groans. “Crawley’s an ass. Never forget that. I’ll take a listen as long as you never admit to another soul what you just told me.”
I grin. Wow. This is really going to happen. “Deal.”
The rest of the session is much smoother, and my stress levels decrease as time goes on. Everyone in the room has mad respect for Mitch because he’s a fucking brilliant artist and his feedback is on point. We instinctively seek him out after each take, asking him for approval. He never demands a thing, just lets us play and provides pointers on what to do to make everything better. And when he loves something, it’s like fireworks are going off with all the excitement in the room.
What are the odds? Lyric writes the song. I compose it. And Mitch fucking Cassidy is practically producing. Unreal.
“Lyric,” I call out as I walk back into the house. Everyone else went out to dinner, but Lyric wasn’t answering her phone so I decided to check on her. “Babes,” I shout again. Nothing. I walk down the long hallways and peer into each guest bedroom, my room, the living room, the kitchen. She’s nowhere to be found.
Panic sets in as I worry that running into her father was more difficult for her than I expected. Suddenly I feel like the shittiest boyfriend for being upset at her. She’s going through a lot, and I promised her patience. I groan, reaching for my phone to call her again. I’m about to press Call when I notice a door cracked open at the end of the hall. The gym.
At the end of the hall, I push the door open to see her stretching on a yoga mat, her feet flat on the floor, pelvis up in the air, stomach exposed. She’s wearing tiny pink shorts that cling to her body and a matching sports bra. Sexy as fuck.
“Babes.” I’m instantly hard.
She must hear me over the earphones because she looks up in surprise and pulls the buds out of her ears. “Hey.”
I walk to her, worshipping her body with my eyes and fantasizing about taking her over the workout bench . . . or maybe right here on the floor. “You’re the sexiest thing, you know that?” I help her to her feet and immediately slide my hands around her waist down to her ass and squeeze a handful. I can already imagine my dick sliding between her ass cheeks and then dipping into her sweet pussy. I groan. Lyric’s cock hugs are the best, especially after a long day of work.
My mouth moves to her neck. I kiss her softly, breathing in her sweet and salty fragrance. “You okay?”
She sighs at my touch. “Better now.”
I press my front into her, and Lyric laughs at my obvious arousal. She tugs at my shirt for me to remove it. I comply and enjoy every second as she sticks a hand down the front of my pants.
“Lyric,” I moan out her name.
I’m sensitive to all things Lyric, even when I’m mad at her. I can’t help it. Her touch is the best stimulation. Her grip is firm as she rolls the skin over my shaft. I growl and shove my hips forward.
“You missed me today?”
“So fucking much,” I moan with my eyes closed.
She’s got a good grip on me and strokes slowly. I need more. Opening my eyes, I take her in. She’s got the same fuck-me-now look in her eyes that I’m sure I have. This is one thing Lyric and I will never be able to fight. Our physical attraction to each other is insane.
I move my hand to her head, grip a handful of her hair, twist it around my fist, and tug gently. Putting my lips near her ear, I speak. “I want your mouth on my cock. Just for a minute. And then I want to fuck you crazy hard.”
The night I first told her I loved her, I promised to fuck her crazy hard, and I made good on my promise. It’s definitely one of my top five sex memories with Lyric. The first is the night I pounded into her against the wall at the Aragon. She’s always liked it a little rough, but we mix it up. Sometimes our sex is soft and intense, and other times, she encourages me to let loose on her like I’m hoping to do tonight. Sometimes she lets loose on me, too. Give and take.
“Sure, baby.” She slips my shorts down and kneels at my feet. “Geez, Wolf. You’re so hard.” She flicks the tip with her tongue and then takes the head and sucks. Her eyes close as she covers as much of my cock as she can with her mouth and savors every inch, slowly, torturously.
Lyric takes her time, moving up and down, paying extra attention to the tip, sucking at just the right moments and swirling her tongue around the head.
I groan as my body tenses up, trying to concentrate on something, anything that will keep me from exploding in her mouth too soon. But the way she’s sucking me off makes holding back impossible.
When I think I can’t stand it anymore, I remove myself and kneel to face her. “I’m ready to fuck you now.”
She’s panting, and she has that look in her eyes. She’s wet and ready, and I haven’t even touched her yet. I lean in and take her bottom lip between mine, biting it gently before pulling away. I drop my gaze to her breasts, and she catches the motion. Knowing me way too well, she smiles, pulls the sports bra away from her skin, and drags it over her head.
Jesus Christ.
“You have the finest tits, baby.” I can’t hold out. My mouth covers one of her nipples, while my hand plays with the other one. Her legs move restlessly with need, and it only makes me want to torture her longer.
“Maybe you should take off those shorts so I can feel your pretty pussy.”
She moans and leans back, pulling her feet out from under her. With a shake of her hips, the skintight material travels down her smooth legs. I’m tempted to spread her and fuck her without warning. My dick needs another hug, but this time he needs to be in control.
When she kneels again to face me, we’re both panting, but we don’t touch. “I’m trying to decide how I want to take you,” I tell her honestly. “I really want your ass in the air, but I want to watch your face when you come.” I stroke her bottom lip with a finger, thinking.
Without a word, Lyric turns around so her ass is in the air, her stomach flat and strong below her, and then she tosses her hair over her shoulder and looks at me. “You won’t miss a thing. Just take me, Wolf. I need you inside me now.”
Well, shit. Okay. She doesn’t need to beg me, although that might be fun next time. This time, I kneel behind her and rub her perfect ass. My hand reels back, and I smack her right cheek hard enough to make her jolt forward and moan.
“Fuck, babe. What was that for?” She doesn’t look pissed . . . in fact, her eyes are shining with excitement.