Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat Book 4)

by Eden Summers

  “Sean.” Ryan kicked him in the leg with his bare toes. “Surname?”

  Damn it. There was no point dragging out the process. Intrigue had him by the balls, and he wouldn’t sleep until he had answers. “I have no clue, but I think Tina mentioned she’d been in the dance crew that toured with Jaxon Sharpe.”

  Sean fell quiet, letting shame eat him from the inside out while Ryan tapped away on his phone. Nobody would blame him for what he was doing. Security-wise, he needed to become more vigilant. Obsession played a huge role in the success of Reckless Beat. It wasn’t long ago he’d been in a life-or-death situation due to one motherfucker of a psychopath. Without research, he couldn’t be sure Red wasn’t deranged. Anyone could hide sinister intentions under a sexy smile and sultry hips.

  It was a lame excuse. What he was doing was wrong, no doubt about it. But the bullshit was placating his guilty conscience, so he was going to roll with it.

  “Melody Jenkins?” Ryan glanced up briefly before staring back at the screen, his head lolling from the sudden movement. “Last year, Jaxon posted a farewell message to her on his website.”

  Innocent enough. He wanted more. “Does it say anything specific?”

  “Nope. We’ll miss you, yadda yadda yadda.” Ryan scrolled, swiping his whole hand over the cell screen. “There’re some sweet pictures of her in action, though. That body of hers is beyond words.”

  “Yeah. No shit.” Sean scooted to the edge of the sofa. “What about social media?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to snoop.”

  “And I thought you needed a place to crash.”

  Ryan shot him a death glare that didn’t quite hit the mark with the drunken glaze before returning his focus to the device in his hands. “Not that I can see. There’re a few women with the same name on Facebook, but no pictures to match. Give me a sec to scroll through more website links on Mr. Google.”

  Sean’s chest tightened. He really shouldn’t be doing this. Really, really, shouldn’t be doing this. There was a reason he felt nauseated. Having your secrets available on the Internet was a bitch you couldn’t defeat. He tried many times to remove content, which involved some unflattering sexual moments he wished had never been recorded. And each time it was brought up in the media, he wanted to cut someone. Exposing Red to the same scrutiny was unforgivable.

  “Bingarino.” Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Jaxon Sharpe’s lead dancer, Melody Jenkins, was left hospitalized after a motorcycle joyride took a wrong turn.”

  “Fuck.” He’d gone too far. “OK. That’s enough. Shut it down, Ry.”

  “The highly successful dancer was thrown from the motorcycle driven by her boyfriend, after he lost control on a secluded gravel road on the outskirts of Paris. Blah, blah, blah. Melody received extensive damage to her left thigh and was forced to remain in the hospital—”

  “I said ‘shut it down.’” Sean leaned forward and snatched the cell from Ryan’s hands. “I don’t need to know this.” He winced at the image on the screen, a fuzzy black-and-white picture of Red on a stretcher as it was loaded into a foreign ambulance.

  “Speaking from experience, you can never have too much information on someone. I thought I knew Julie. Look at how that fuck-up turned out.” Ryan slumped into the sofa. “Stupid fucking marriage. Stupid fucking life. The last twelve months have been one punch to the balls after another. I’m sick of being where I’m not appreciated.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.” Sean placed the cell on the coffee table and rested his head in his hands. “We need to rewind and have a do-over.”

  Ryan scoffed. “What would you change?”

  Good question. Sean didn’t have a clue. He loved playing the drums. Creating the backbone of every song was what he did. He could’ve focused his music career on lead guitar, or bass, but he’d loved the heavy beat echoing through his chest. It was the world’s perception of his position in the band that pissed him off. “I don’t know. How about you?”

  “I wouldn’t have married her.” Ryan murmured. “If I had the chance to go back, I wouldn’t walk down the aisle again.”

  Jesus. How the hell did he reply to that revelation? Sean was a man of few words…well, few serious words.

  “Since I joined the band, I’ve been the married one. While we were on tour, you guys were going out drinkin’ and gettin’ laid, while I was in the hotel room with Leah.” Ryan’s eyes filled with sorrow. “I know things with you and Sidney are hard at the moment, but you’ve always had Mason. Blake and Mitch have each other.” He shrugged. “I had Leah. She was my go-to girl. And once we returned home from tour, I’d have to ditch her because Julie hated how close we became.”

  Warning bells started to ring in Sean’s ears. “How close is close?”

  “I’ve never fucking cheated on my wife.” Ryan glared. “Leah was my best friend. Just like Mason is yours.”

  “I know, I know.” Sean scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry. Stupid question. You’re probably the only one who hasn’t had a crack at her at one point or another. Touring is tough. It’s lonely.”

  “Try being married and on tour. You don’t know the definition of tough.”

  Ryan broke eye contact and worked his fingers over his close-cropped beard. There was something going on, and unlike Sean’s ability to push through the guilt while snooping on Red, he didn’t want to pry with Ryan.

  “I think this fantastic moment should be sponsored by Johnny Walker.” What else was there to do? He didn’t know how to talk this shit out. God knew he’d screwed up enough with women lately to be crossed off the people-to-go-to-for-advice list.

  “Yeah.” Ryan closed his eyes and rested his head against the sofa armrest. “Alcohol fixes everything, right?”

  Sean shrugged and slunk his ass to the kitchen. “If a little liquid solace doesn’t get her off your mind, at least the hangover tomorrow will.”

  Sean spent a week thinking about her. Every time Sidney shoved herself into his mind, he shook it off with thoughts of Red. It probably wasn’t the best approach to replace one obsession with another, but it was working, and he had no plans to stop.

  He pulled his truck to the side of the road in front of the Melodic Dance studio and focused through the floor to ceiling windows as he cut the engine. The night was already dark, the illumination from inside shining like a beacon toward the fascinating woman inside. She was spinning, popping, doing whatever the hell dancers do to make a routine seem flawless and flowing.

  For a while, he sat and stared, transfixed. He liked her. He nodded to himself. Yeah, he really did. It wasn’t a rebound kind of thing—well, at least he didn’t think it was. She’d become more than a hard-and-fast distraction. He totally dug her, every inch, every word, every smile. She was beautiful with her long, flowing hair and tiny pixie body. She was stubbornly cute. And she was smart. Or maybe a smart-ass was a better fit. Either way, he loved being around her.

  He slid from his truck, locked the doors, and then cursed as his cell began to vibrate from his shorts' pocket. He read the screen with dread and contemplated letting the call go to voice mail.

  “Hey, Sid. What’s up?” He rested his stomach against the hood, his gaze still fastened on Red. Now, more than ever, he needed to keep the image of this beautiful dancer in his mind instead of the one who’d grown to taunt him.

  “I just wanted to see how you are.” Her tone was soft, light, the same melodic lilt that had previously made his chest crack.

  “I’m good.” For the most part. He’d be even better if she stopped checking in on him.

  “And Ryan? Mason told me he crashed at your place all week.”

  “Ahh…” Ryan was another story. Another drunken, anger-filled story. “He’s…”

  “Upset?”

  “Guys don’t really do upset. He’s more on the rage-filled, I’m-going-to-go-postal spectrum.”

  She fell silent for a moment. “I didn’t pick Ryan as the angry type. He seems so quiet and polite
.”

  “Yeah, well, I think the old Ryan is gone for now, and whoever took his place is one messed up motherfucker.”

  Red ran from the back corner, jumping into the air to do the splits before landing on her toe and descending in a roll that looked far too easy to be real.

  “Is there anything I can do? For you, or him?”

  Leave me the hell alone. Stop calling. Stay out of my mind. If he had the balls, he’d do something to make her hate him. With a semi-permanent break from her, he’d be able to let go of the lingering hold she had. Only he didn’t have the heart to hurt her.

  “We’re good.”

  “OK.” She paused, and the seconds of silence put him on edge. “Sean…”

  Fuck. He couldn’t stay in this loop, the long, never-ending cycle where she loved his best friend and wanted to drag Sean along for the ride.

  “Sid.” His tone was a warning. He couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t want to be that guy. Sidney would never be his. Ever. It was time to move on.

  “I just need to know that you’re all right. Mason and I are both worried. At the engagement party you were—“

  “I’m fine. Look, I gotta go. I've just pulled up at the dance studio, and I’m already runnin’ late. I’ll catch you later.”

  He paused to wait for her half-hearted farewell, and then disconnected the call. He knew Sidney meant well. It wasn’t her fault he was a mess. He just needed to stay away from her until he got his shit together. Hopefully, with Red’s help, that would be sooner rather than later.

  He strode around his truck, almost tripped up the gutter because he was too busy gawking through the window, and jogged to the front door. As he pushed his way inside, he fought to keep the grin from his face. She was a fucking wet dream—sweat slickened skin, tendrils of hair plastered to the side of her face, her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she sauntered toward him.

  “Evenin’, Red.” He shoved his hand hard into his back pocket, making sure to hide the prize he stored there for later.

  “You’re late.” She quirked a brow, thrusting her hands to her hips.

  “Sorry.” For the first time, he wished he could pull off the meek puppy dog look. “I was stuck on the phone.”

  “Right.” Her tone said like-I-give-a-shit. “Well, you better start warming up. We’ve got a busy night ahead.”

  His grin turned to a smirk. He couldn’t help it. At the first mention of a busy night his thoughts shot to the moment when she blew his mind last weekend. His sac still tingled at the memory.

  “Wipe that look from your face, sticks. By the time you’re finished, you’ll be struggling to use your legs, let alone your dick.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “No, sweetie, that’s a promise. We’re not leaving here until your legs are like jelly, and these moves are a permanent stain on your soul.”

  He chuckled. “You can stain my soul anytime.”

  “Enough with the flirting.” She glared and then swung around, her high ponytail swaying as she stormed her sexy ass toward the music system in the corner of the room. “While you’re stretching, I’m going to show you my part of the dance to see what you think.”

  With any other woman, he would’ve felt rejected at her blatant attempt not to discuss the awesome sex they’d had. With Red, he considered it a game. Interest blazed in her eyes. She was playing hard to get, and he was more than willing to accept the challenge.

  “You’re the boss.”

  She shot him a sideways glance. “Really? And here I was thinking you demanded control at all times.”

  Let the tally of sexual innuendo begin. “Only in the bedroom. In day to day life, you can have all the control you want. I’m yours, sweetie.”

  She scoffed, and he wasn’t sure if it was related to her undeniable lack of sweetness or his comment about control. Either way, she was doing an unconvincing job of trying to show disinterest.

  “Are you going to flirt with me the entire time?”

  “I’m gonna try.”

  “Super,” she drawled, heavy on the sarcasm. “I’ll commence ignoring you then.”

  The opening bars of Fighting Against Attraction echoed off the walls, and his little pixie rolled her ankles as she pivoted to face the room. She lifted her chin, allowing a professional demeanor to settle over her features. “The dance will start off with you center screen and me sauntering toward you.”

  Sean lowered his knees to the ground in defeat. The games were over for now. Merely temporary, though. He spread his legs in front of him, pretending to stretch when what he was really doing was fighting the need to readjust his stiffening cock.

  “Uh huh.” He bobbed his head as her essence filled the room. She twirled, her toes pointed, her face a mask of professional grace. Beautiful. Captivating. In a relaxed setting, in a baggy gray tank and loose black pants that went to mid-calf, she was the most hypnotizing thing he’d ever seen. There was no hint of her accident from the year before, and nothing hindered the mesmerizing way she moved.

  Something uncomfortable unfurled in his gut. Could he be nervous? She was a god-damn dream, after all. Dancing alongside her was more than likely to make him look like the biggest tool in the shed.

  “Pretend you’re behind me right now.” She raised her arm, seductively swaying her hips, while she cocked her head to the side as if waiting for a lover's kiss on her neck. “You’re going to have to act like you’re fighting to keep your hands off me.”

  No problem there.

  “As we sink into the chorus, and the beat starts to pound, you’re going to succumb. That’s when the rough push and pull will start. I’ll try to walk away, and you’ll tug me back.”

  “Uh huh.” Another bob of his head. How did she learn to move like that? Even without a partner, she made the vision real. He could see himself before her, grabbing her, pulling her to his chest so he could steal a kiss. Or two. Those seductive moves would be easy. He already envisioned it. Only he was no longer sure he could dance beside her.

  “I really want to incorporate some acrobatics. Maybe a few lifts and flips, but I’ll get into that later. I think those will be the hardest, especially when you can’t practice on Sasha until the last minute.”

  He cleared his throat over the apprehension and lifted an arm to flex his bicep. “Don’t worry, babe, I brought the guns tonight.”

  She shot him a glance and rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself.”

  Her movements continued, gliding through some beats, then popping her shoulders or hips hard on others. Watching her made the song he’d grown to detest into something more. Something breathtaking. She was a vision. His vision. Or soon would be, anyway.

  For the remaining chorus and final verse, she talked him through the moves, making the cloying doubt pulsing in his veins throb harder. When the song ended, he stood, having enough of the fake stretching routine.

  “You’ve got me all warmed up, Red.” He pulled his wallet, cell, and keys from his front pocket and threw them onto the wooden bench near the door. “Let’s get started.”

  He positioned himself in the center of the room, fighting back the nerves that made his limbs tingle. How the hell was he supposed to get through these rehearsal sessions without making a dick of himself? Red was a professional dancer. From what Leah mentioned, she was at the top of her game. And he had to try and impress her with moves he didn’t have. He had rhythm and stamina by the bucket load, he just wasn’t sure he had the ability to dance with a hard-on.

  Then there was the knowledge of her accident. Knowledge which shouldn’t be taking up valuable space in his brain. He had no hope. This music video was a lost cause. But her body…Jesus Christ. He’d almost be happy to make a dick of himself for that body.

  “Are you feeling OK?” she asked, frowning at him.

  Shit. “Yeah, of course.” He nodded and didn’t even feel the movement because he was too numb. Then again, having parts of his anatomy dulled from sensation while in close p
roximity to this woman was probably a damn good thing.

  “OK, so…” She strode back to the corner. “I’m going to do another basic run through of the moves, start to finish. After that, I’ll break them into sections and work on a piece at a time.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Here goes.” She strode toward him, dragging the tips of her toes behind her with each step. “Leah said the set will be a hotel ballroom with a lot of space. So we’ll start by walking toward each other.”

  She bridged the distance between them, coming to a stop at his feet. “The song is full of emotion, and we need to mimic that in everything we do, from the way we touch to the way we look at each other.”

  She turned, resting her back into him and glancing over her shoulder. His body was on full alert, throbbing, running hot with the need to feel her body beneath his.

  “First off, you’ll be the one to plant your feet, cross your arms over your chest, and fight against the pull of lust. You’re angry, and all I want to do is make you react.”

  His cock already had. The more she rubbed against him, her hands drifting around his waist, her confident voice taunting him, the more he wanted to drag her to the ground and show her some moves of his own.

  “In the second verse, the lyrics are about succumbing to temptation.”

  “I can’t resist you. I can’t deny you. The pleasure you bring has turned to pain.”

  “Yes.” She gave him a brief smile. “At that part, I’m going to walk away, and you’re going to grab my hand and pull me back into your body.”

  They went through the motions, his gaze caught on her mouth and the way she moistened her lips as they came chest to chest.

  “Now the fighting begins.” She shoved at his chest. “You stumble back, and then lunge for me with your hand coming intimately around my nape.”

  He stepped forward, doing as instructed.

  “You want to kiss me.”

  No shit.

  “But I’m not going to let you.”

  He tightened his hold around her neck, not wanting to be denied. Red paused, her chest expanding with her rapid pants, her lips slightly parted, waiting. Pins and needles erupted under his palm. Jesus Christ, she wanted him. He wanted her. Why the hell weren’t they naked?