by Eden Summers
“Good evening, ladies.”
Women screamed. For him?
He shot a bemused look toward Cameron, then focused on the people before him, wondering what the hell he was meant to do now.
“Can you sign my shirt?” A woman in front stepped forward and held out a permanent marker.
“Sure.” He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face…well, not until the woman tightened the pink T-shirt over her chest and directed him to sign the patch of material over her breasts.
He’d done this type of thing before—signing tits, bras, anything that was meant to draw his attention to their sexuality. Only now, the heightened euphoria he’d gained from those moments of fame didn’t pack as much punch. In fact, he felt dirty. Sleazy. Like he was cheating on Red for even paying these women attention.
“You sure you want me to sign here?” He raised a brow and bit the lid off her marker.
“Positive,” she crooned.
Whatever. He signed his name, then worked his way through the crowd that didn’t seem to disperse.
“Can I have your number?”
“Who was that woman?”
“Are you single?”
They threw question after question his way, not one of them bothered to ask about his career. He wasn’t entirely convinced they even knew who he was. They didn’t care about his music. The excitement was all about rubbing up against fame. Brushing their fingers along the fairy dust of what they thought was the nirvana of celebrity status.
“I better get going.” He scanned the faces of women who begged him to stay, not only with their words, but with their puppy-dog eyes and the plumping of their breasts. “I’ve got a lovely lady waiting.”
“Please, Sean. Stay.”
The majority of women ignored his comment about Red, while a few others muttered nasty remarks that didn’t skip his attention. In fact, they pissed him off. One woman even grabbed for the waistband of his cargo shorts.
“Back off!” Cameron snapped.
The bodyguard didn’t move. He didn’t need to. His tone and stance were enough deterrent to stop the group from encroaching further.
“Sorry, ladies.” He used the term loosely. Probably as loose as these women used their bodies. Yeah, he knew it was a dick assumption. He couldn’t help it. He was pissed. “Make sure you keep an eye out for the Fighting Against Attraction music video.”
He strode toward his pickup, a bodyguard at both his sides as he held the fake smile on his face. This wasn’t what he wanted. In essence, it was exactly what he’d asked for—fame without Mason or any of the other band members being the draw card. So why hadn’t it brought the fulfillment his hopes had relied on?
He’d fucked up. Again. Focusing all his attention on something that wasn’t remotely like what he expected. First, he’d pinned his hopes on Sidney. Now this. Christ, he didn’t even know himself anymore. He’d begun to rely on Red, too, but she was still withholding secrets with no hint of letting down her guard anytime soon.
It seemed he was destined for mediocrity, which was rich coming from a drummer in one of the most widely known bands. He just couldn’t overcome the feeling he wasn’t achieving all he was capable of. He wanted more. And maybe it was time to push a little harder to achieve it.
Melody clutched her hands together, pleading as she stared at her sister on the other side of the kitchen. “Please don’t mention the sex video.”
Blair smirked, dusting off imaginary fluff at the thigh of her beige skirt. “I won’t.”
“And don’t say anything about my accident.”
“I won’t.”
“And if he asks about my past, just brush it off. I don’t want to get into a conversation about it tonight.”
“No problem.” Her sister’s smile turned devious, wordlessly announcing she enjoyed Melody’s apprehension.
“What are you grinning at?”
“Nothing.”
“Blair.” Her name was a growl. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is. I wanted to enjoy our last night of rehearsals, and instead I’m here, holding down nausea, not only because Sean wants to meet you, but because I was utterly humiliated tonight.”
“Why? Just because a few people stopped your performance in the park?”
“There was more than a few. It was a pack of hungry vultures, and one of them called me a ‘fucking bitch.’ Me. One of the best dancers in the country, no exaggeration, was looked down her nose at by some tawdry groupie who thought she was better than me.”
“A pack of hungry vultures, starved for some sexy man meat.”
“Blair.” This was ridiculous. Her sister was set to cause trouble, Melody could see it in her eyes.
“What do you want me to say, Mel?” The humor left Blair’s features. “Do you want me to be brutally honest? Because if so, I’d ask why you think you’re better than that woman in the first place? At least she was going after what she wants, with no concern for how it made her look.” Blair held up her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, sweetie, you were one of the best dancers in the country. You aren’t anymore. You teach. You choreograph. And here you are with this great guy drooling all over you, yet you walk away when you could’ve stood by his side and basked in the attention with him.”
No. There’d been no place for her among Sean and his bodyguards. He’d been in his element. Engrossed in the crowd, loving the adoration. Yes, she’d been jealous. Fading into the distance stung her pride. She also knew it wasn’t a place she belonged anymore. “I don’t want attention.”
“Well, too fucking bad, honey. You’re dating a celebrity. Either you like it or you walk.”
Melody stared at her sister, hearing the honesty she hadn’t been able to tell herself. Blair was right. Sean stood for everything she didn’t want—fame, scrutiny, and high expectations. And he wanted more. More groupies. More screaming women. More limelight.
There was no way she could handle that. Not in her current mental state. And it wasn’t as if her scars were miraculously going to heal themselves. She’d already been called names tonight, without her faults on display. Imagine what they’d call her if she’d been exposed. If they knew how flawed Sean’s date really was.
“Don’t slink back into that new cave of yours,” Blair warned. “You’ve got a good thing going, Mel. Don’t throw it away like you did with your career.”
The air rushed from Melody’s lungs as if her sister had punched her in the stomach. Blair didn’t understand. She never would. Maybe nobody would. “You don’t know…”
A car pulled into the driveway. The bright lights beamed into the living room and stole her attention.
“He’s here,” she murmured, keeping her focus on the front room so she didn’t have to meet her sister’s scrutiny.
“I’m sorry, Mel. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. It’s just hard to see you like this.” Her sister walked forward and squeezed her shoulder. “I understand that you like him. And that he was the reason you came back into my life. But I also know you’re stronger than this role you’re playing—”
“It’s not a role, Blair.”
“I think it is.” Her sister shrugged. “You’ve always been shrouded in the diva lifestyle. Surrounded by people who only care about appearances and the perfect persona. Once you learn to understand that none of that matters to anyone else, you’ll find life a lot easier.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever find people staring at my insecurities easy. And you can’t judge something you don’t know jack shit about.”
Blair inclined her head. “Just like you can’t judge people for being curious about something they don’t understand. The hard truth is that people will look at your scars if they’re on display. Strangers may judge you. They may even pigeonhole you as someone you’re not. But does that really matter when you’re doing a worse job of pigeonholing yourself? Who cares what strangers think?”
Blair glanced toward the hall at the approaching footsteps on the front porch. “You
need to realize that scar on your leg is a sign of strength, not weakness. Until then, you’ll continue to be ruled by the past. Simple as that.”
“Simple, yes. Especially for someone with no clue what it’s like to be me.” Melody pushed from her stool and strode to the hall. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll let you get the door.”
***
Sean pasted on a smile for the woman opening the door. Her features were the same as Red’s, the warm brown eyes, the smooth skin and cute lips. However, she was entirely different, too. Brown hair instead of the most beautiful strawberry-blonde, and a darker shade of skin. She was taller, wider, less appealing, which didn’t really mean much when nobody appealed to him more than his little pixie.
“Sean?” The woman flashed him a warm smile. “I’m Blair, Mel’s sister.”
He offered his hand and grasped her fingers gently. “Nice to meet you.”
She shook his offering and released his grip just as quick. “Come in.” She pushed the door wide and allowed him entry to an immaculate hallway that smelled of coffee.
“So…” He glanced over her shoulder, scoping the hall and then the adjoining living room. “Where’s Red?”
“Umm.” Blair winced. “I’m sure she’ll only be a minute. I think I upset her, so she’s probably sulking in the bathroom.”
Sulking? Red? His protective side flared to life, heating the blood in his veins. “Why do you think that?”
“She doesn’t like to be pushed. Not by me, anyway.”
“Pushed?” His chest started to pound. He’d planned on adding a little pressure to Red himself. Now he was having second thoughts.
“She wasn’t meant to be a choreographer, Sean. She was born to perform.” Blair focused on him with intent, reading him. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he muttered, breaking eye contact. He didn’t want to talk behind Red’s back. It wasn’t his style. He only wanted what was best for her. “She’s definitely talented.”
“Someone needs to put pressure on her. To snap her out of these insecure thoughts. It’s been twelve months now.”
He frowned at Blair, noting the scheming look in her eyes that matched the one he’d seen Red give him numerous times before. “Why are you looking at me?”
“Because I think you’re the closest person to her at the moment. You could get through to her.”
“No.” He shook his head. Hell no. His own plans had been daunting enough. God knew he’d fucked up with Red more than once already. He was going to take this slow. Get a feel for where she was at, then determine if he should nudge her in the right direction when the moment was perfect. On his own terms. In his own time. Nobody else’s.
“You’ve seen her naked, right?”
“What?” Sean’s focus snapped to hers. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Blair gave a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m not perverted. I swear. I just wanted to see if you knew why she quit dancing.”
He swallowed, seeing the image of Red’s scar reflected in his mind. He couldn’t forget it, no matter how hard he tried. “I know.”
“See. She trusts you. Far more easily than she did with me and my parents.”
“But—”
“I also think she’s in love with you.”
Bam. She almost knocked him on his ass from her words alone. Love? Fuck. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t been running through his mind. But it was his own love. His own feelings he’d been fascinated with. He’d hadn’t even held hope Red would feel the same. At least not yet.
“Blair,” his voice croaked. “She didn’t trust me. I discovered it on my own.”
“Discovered what on your own?” Red’s voice echoed through the hall moments before Sean caught sight of her striding toward them. Her cheeks were red, kicking his heart rate up a notch because he couldn’t tell if she was angry, upset, or embarrassed.
He cleared the apprehension from his throat and smirked at her. “Your G spot.”
She rolled her eyes as he bridged the distance between them, smashing his mouth hard against hers before she could reply. Her hands clung to his shirt, her short cropped nails lightly scratching through to his skin. He parted her lips with his tongue, kissed her harder as she moaned into his mouth, and tugged her into his chest, unable to let go.
The thought of her love had him reeling. He wanted to believe Blair, bad enough it hurt. There was no obsession liked he’d endured with Sidney. His feelings for Red were different. Genuine. He knew within himself, they were honest emotions. Right now, it was the only thing he knew.
She pulled back, the air rasping past her lips in heavy breaths. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” She grinned. “You’ve never found my G spot. Not yet, anyway.”
Liar.
“What? Not once?” He peered down at the playfulness in her eyes, breathed her in, sank under the spell of her adoration. He loved the way she looked at him. “I guess I should fix that.”
His lips curved, slow, subtle, breaking into an arrogant smirk as he settled his hand on her stomach and slid it lower, to the waistband of her pants.
“Don’t mind me,” Blair drawled. “I’ll just mosey on out of my own hallway while you two make yourselves at home.”
He’d never cared about an audience before. Yet, right here, right now, he wanted Red to himself. He didn’t want to share. He had no desire to socialize.
“I’m sorry our last rehearsal was ruined.” He spoke against her mouth, sweeping his lips over hers. He needed more of her. He needed everything—the secrets, the insecurities. He wanted it all. “You should’ve stayed,” he murmured. “We could’ve given them a glimpse at the routine. Those women would’ve been in awe at the sight of you.”
He ignored the stiffness that entered Red’s posture and continued to kiss the side of her lips, her jaw, the curve of her neck.
“Maybe we should save this for later.” She nudged against his chest. “We’ve got company.”
He glanced over his shoulder to find nothing but two pairs of heels beside the door and a coat rack. “We’re alone.” He met her gaze, then stole the faint smile from her lips with another kiss, this time grinding his lengthening shaft into her as he walked her backward to the wall.
“Barely,” she whispered.
He didn’t care. He wanted to be all over her. Under her, too. Tomorrow things would change. Maybe for the better. The loss of anxiety might make their connection stronger. Then again, he wasn’t excited about dancing with another woman, and he was sure Red was close to nausea at the thought of Sasha taking over the routine. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch whenever they discussed the other dancer.
“I am really sorry it didn’t work out tonight.” He noted the hint of sadness in her eyes before she could mask it. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Like the time you made up for spilling champagne on my pants?” She chuckled.
He grinned and leaned closer, brushing his lips against her ear. “I’m pretty sure you liked the way I made it up to you.”
“I did.” Her hand cupped his cheek, shifting his attention to her face. “Honestly, it’s OK. We danced in the park for over an hour. I think that’s special enough.”
“No, it’s not.” He shook his head, staring into those deep brown eyes, trying to convey his sincerity even though his cock pulsed hard between them. “I called Leah and gave her a piece of my mind. She did apologize, but like always, she fell back on the excuse that it’s her job.”
“It is her job.” Her hands move to his hair, her delicate fingers gliding through the strands. “It’s your job, too. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
“I’ve got more news.” His throat tightened. “There’s going to be a camera crew at the dress rehearsal tomorrow. They’re going to want to do interviews and capture some bloopers from my first session with Sasha.”
There was a pause, only slight, but long enough for him to hone in on her tone and notice the di
sappointment in her inflection. “No problem.”
“You know, it’s not too late to do the dance yourself.” He pulled back, looked her in the eye and noticed the fake smile she continuously tried to fool him with. “Being there with you would mean a hell of a lot more to me than some woman I don’t even know.”
“You’ll partner perfectly with Sasha. I promise.” The red splotches disappeared from her face, but sorrow still lingered. “You’re nervous. That’s all. Tomorrow, you’ll hit it off. I know you will.”
He smothered his disappointment with a grin, not wanting to push a conversation he’d already struggled to discuss more times than he cared to remember. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” He ran his hand along her waist, then lower still, pushing his index finger underneath her waistband to trail a line back and forth over the skin of her abdomen. Teasing. Tormenting. “We’ve still got one little problem.”
“Hmm?”
He slid his hand lower, into her silk panties, brushing his fingertips over the trimmed curls at her mound. She sucked in a breath, clung tighter to the short strands of his hair and parted her lips on a gasp. “Apparently, I haven’t found that G-spot of yours.”
“Sean.” His name was a question. Maybe even a plea.
He swept his mouth over hers, smothered her soft whimper as he slowly sank his fingers inside her. He was lost, consumed with the temptation of having her. He no longer cared where they were, or if they were caught. His lips had to taste. His hands had to touch. There was no way he could stop until he got his fill.
“Sean.” She spoke into his mouth, kissed him back, worked her hips back and forth as she clamped on his fingers.
There was no one else in the world when he was with her. He didn’t have to compete with anyone for attention, or fade into anyone’s shadow. When he was with Red, his soul was at peace. He was happy. The only part of him currently left unsatisfied was his cock, which ground against her thigh as she undulated back and forth against his digits.
A gruff throat was cleared from the next room.