Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat Book 4)

by Eden Summers

  He broke their connection, glancing down her body, focusing on her left thigh.

  The breath left her lungs on a shudder, and she swallowed hard to fight the burn in her throat. He knew. “For how long?” They both knew what she was asking. She could see the pity in his eyes as he raised his face to her. “Did Sasha tell you?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve known a long time. I’ve seen the damage for myself.”

  She stepped back. Stumbled. “You didn’t say anything.” She clutched the nightgown over her chest, feeling betrayed and ashamed all at once. “You never told me.”

  “I could say the same about you.” He stalked forward. “You never trusted me enough to tell me, so why the hell would I bring it up?”

  Because maybe things would’ve been different if he had. She didn’t know how, or why, but the inevitable ending might not have been so inevitable if he’d told her.

  “Please leave.” The plea burned her throat and made her hands shake.

  “You don’t want to know how I feel about it?” He continued forward, so there was barely a breath between them. “You don’t want to know why I bit my tongue every time you refused to let me see you naked?”

  She shook her head, sliding back another step. No. She didn’t want to know anymore. It already hurt too much. Her chest was an open wound. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She’d promised herself not to cry anymore. The months of sorrow had been enough.

  “Too bad.” He lunged for her, stealing her breath, making her heart climb to her throat as he pulled her into his arms, gliding his hand into her loose hair so he could leverage her face right where he wanted it. “I’m going to tell you.”

  He leaned in, his lips close enough for static to flicker between them. “The reason I never said a word is because I didn’t fucking care.”

  She shuddered, pulling back, pushing against his chest. In truth, she wanted him to hold her tighter, until the will to fight was gone. She wanted him to love her, to make her believe she wasn’t a waste of life, and her future may one day be brighter than the current darkness.

  “I hurt for you, Melody.”

  Her name was a prayer. A promise. A sweet caress from the man she loved yet couldn’t have.

  “Please don’t.”

  “The morning I left for New York, I woke up and found you splayed across the bed.” His grip tightened in her hair, making it impossible to move. “I almost died. You almost killed me. Because it was then that I understood you. I figured out why you were confident one minute and insecure the next. I remembered the night we met and discovered why you ran away when I touched your thigh. I met the real Melody that morning. Yet you still refuse to show her to me.”

  “I tried.” She shook her head slightly, unable to move far because of his grip.

  “Not hard enough. Do you know how frustrating it is to stare at the most beautiful woman in the world and know she hates herself because of one small expanse of skin?” He brushed his lips over hers, dragging a cry from her throat. “The weeks after I found out were torture, all because you refused to confide in me. You never gave me the chance to show you how I feel. And you know what?” His gaze bore deep into her, making it near impossible to fight the need to sob. “I don’t care about your scars. I don’t give a shit what that part of your body looks like, because the beauty I see in you could never be dampened by an injury. You take my breath away, and you don’t even know it.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. This was what she’d wanted to hear, so why hadn’t the pain in her chest ebbed? She fought the need to crumple. To fall to her knees and cry until the tears gave her relief.

  “Dance with me, Melody,” he whispered into her mouth. “I can’t do this with anyone else.”

  “No.” She pleaded with her eyes, trying to make him understand.

  “You don’t trust me.” He pulled back, just a little, enough to show her she’d stung his pride.

  “I do.” She cupped his cheek. “I trust you.” She did. With all her heart. “But I can’t perform in front of your friends.” She shook her head. “I can’t let Sasha see me like this. The whole world will see me like this.”

  “And why do they matter? I’ll never let them hurt you. I refuse to let you sink into self-pity again.”

  “Don’t make me do this, Sean.” She wanted to make him proud more than anything. To see him smile as they danced, to witness his passion on the dance floor, mirroring her own. It was too soon. Too quick. She needed to think it over.

  “You can’t hide forever.” His face softened, fell, almost cut her with his sadness. “And I don’t know how long I can wait, knowing you’re holding yourself back from me. I want to be with you. Without stipulations. Without secrets. I want you to trust me, and I want to be able to trust that you are telling me the truth. Otherwise, there’s no point to us at all.”

  There it was. The thinly veiled ultimatum. The make or break. He needed all of her to be able to move forward, yet she’d lost parts of her soul in the accident and still didn’t know where to find them. “I don’t think I can.”

  “You’ll do it for us. I have faith in you. All my faith, is in you.” He kissed her hard, stroking his tongue along the seam of her lips, pushing into her mouth before withdrawing just as fast. “Have a shower. Get dressed into something pretty. And come meet me at the hotel. I’ll be right by your side for the rest of the way.”

  He let her go, gifting her with one last sweep of his lips. “I’ll see you soon.” He strode from the house, closing the door behind him, leaving her alone in the heavy silence.

  Her head swam with possibilities and repercussions. Light and dark. Damage and beauty. Could she do this? The screaming protests in her head said no. The warmth Sean left in her chest told another story. A more powerful one. She wanted to be the woman she saw reflected in his eyes. She wanted to be his everything, like he’d become for her.

  Maybe she could do this. For him. For them.

  And most importantly, for herself.

  “She’s on her way.”

  Sean walked back into the ballroom like his shit was red hot. And it was. Red was going to dance with him. Even better, he’d pushed her about her issues, and she hadn’t broken. They were going to move forward. He was sure of it. All the world’s goodness was within his grasp.

  “That’s great.” The head of the film crew approached. “But Sean, we’ve gotta start filming. Time’s running out.”

  It was almost lunch, and he hadn’t danced once. “Give her half an hour.”

  He’d had to leave her. To walk away and give her the empowerment of making her own choice even though he knew, deep down, in his chest, she wouldn’t deny him. They were going to nail this whole relationship thing. Brush away the insecurities and awkwardness and become something that had a future. An unending one.

  “We don’t have half an hour to spare. Can’t you do a few takes with Sasha first? Just in case?”

  Sean shook his head. “No need. She’ll be here soon.”

  “Come on, Sean.” Sasha nudged his shoulder, staring up at him with pleading eyes. “Can’t you do a few takes with me? Purely for my own portfolio. I’d love to have a keepsake.”

  He shrugged. “Fine.” He was too charged to sit and wait anyway.

  One take turned into three. Half an hour morphed into an hour. An hour into two. Lunch passed, along with the afternoon. And so on and so forth until nobody could look him in the eye. Not even Sasha. They knew Red wasn’t coming, and no matter how many times he checked his cell, he knew she wasn’t going to call.

  “I’m sorry, Sean. We can’t hang around any longer.”

  “No problem.” He spoke the words as if he didn’t care. As if he were over the disappointment instead of falling harder into despair with every breath. “Thanks for your patience today.”

  The guy inclined his head and strode away.

  Sean had willingly suffered through Red’s lies of omission. He understood her fear and the inability to share t
he darkest piece of herself. Things were different now. There were no more secrets. No need for deception or broken promises. And still she was tearing his heart out. Pushing him away.

  His friends hovered around him at the drinks table, clearing their throats and muttering useless conversation. Nobody knew how to talk anymore. Not after yesterday’s carnage and Groundhog Day today.

  “I’m outta here.” The words solidified the betrayal, shooting anger through his limbs. He slapped a full cup of water off the table and stormed for the door before he lost the withering restraint he was barely clinging to. He’d done all he could. He’d placated for weeks. He’d tried being heavy handed. All for nothing.

  She’d made the choice. They were over. The one thing he’d searched for had finally been within reach, and now it was gone.

  She didn’t want him.

  He strode through the lobby, ignoring staff and the added security hovering at the front door of the building, and entered the fading daylight surrounding the parking lot. The crowd had dispersed, the few loyal fans held back at the driveway by a team of security so their screams didn’t echo into the recording.

  He marched out the pain, pumping it from his system. Or at least trying to. The pressure increased, closing his throat, stealing his breath. His pickup was within sight, yet too far away. One of a handful of cars still remaining in the lot, parked beside a vehicle he’d become familiar with in the past three weeks.

  Red?

  His stomach dropped as he scanned his surroundings, searching for a woman he couldn’t find. Shit. She’d been here. So where the hell was she? He increased his pace, breaking into a jog.

  “Red?” He called her name as he rounded the hood. Fuck. There she was, slumped forward in the driver’s seat, her arms clinging to the steering wheel. She didn’t move, didn’t look up at the sound of his voice. “Melody.”

  He thumped her window, fear climbing up his throat. He pulled her door handle, unable to unlock it.

  “Melody, please, sweetheart. Open the door.”

  She didn’t acknowledge him, but he could see her moving now, her back rising and falling in rapid succession, her fingers white as chalk as they clung to the wheel.

  “Fuck.” His shout rang through the night as he turned in panic and yanked the back door of his truck open. He climbed in, scrounged behind the seat and pulled out the car jack. The next thing he knew, he was slamming the heavy metal through her rear window, smashing the glass.

  He could hear her now, her faint sobs, the panic in her panted breaths. “Red. Sweetheart.” He crooned to her, saying whatever came to mind as he cleared away enough broken glass to get his arm inside to unlock the car.

  He dropped the jack to the asphalt, yanked her door open and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her arms away from the wheel. Tears streamed down her face, mascara running in pained trails, the skin around her eyes swollen and red. She couldn’t breathe. She was panting. Making him panic from the fear of not knowing what to do.

  “Jesus, Melody.” He unclicked her belt.

  Running footsteps approached behind him. “Sean, everything OK?”

  Blake. Sean held up a hand, requesting space as he encased Red in his arms and pulled her from the car. With the flick of his leg, he slammed the door shut, pressing her back against the metal. She was shaking, gasping, the tears still rushing down her face as he held her as close as humanly possible to his body.

  “I’m so sorry.” He spoke into her hair, squeezing her until his chest ached.

  She was dressed in a white gown, the soft material hanging around her knees, the multiple layers overlapping, falling over her thighs to reveal her scars. She’d come for him. She put her pride and her vanity on the line, all for him.

  “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  She wouldn’t stop shaking. “I…t-tried.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. He’d broken her.

  “I—” She gasped, one after the other, struggling to fill her lungs. “I—”

  “Hey.” He brushed her hair from her jaw and crouched to meet the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Come on now. Breathe, honey.”

  She sucked in one breath, another, winding herself back up in mania as she plastered her hands over her face and began to sob with earnest. He kissed her forehead, pressing his lips so hard in the hope it would ease her pain.

  His friends hovered closer. He met their scrutiny in turn, not caring that tears blurred his vision. He’d always been the hard ass. The tough as nails motherfucker nobody wanted to mess with. But this…This was too much. He couldn’t withstand her sorrow. He couldn’t forgive himself for what he’d done. He closed his eyes, clung to her and waited, minutes, hours, he had no clue, until her breathing stabilized and the sobs turned into sniffles.

  “I’m so fucking sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  She lowered her hands, tore his heart out with her sadness and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him. Her head fell to his shoulder, her gasps peppering his skin, each one of them stabbing through his chest.

  “Is she OK?” Blake asked quietly.

  Melody leaned back against the car and sucked in a steadying breath. Her gaze took in his friends, then lowered to her leg where parts of her scar were exposed between the broken layers of her dress. She reached down, placing a hand over the darkened flesh, trying to cover herself.

  “We all have scars. Some bigger than others.” Blake stepped forward, clutching her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips, exposing her thigh once more. “Just try to see yourself through his eyes.” He gave a sad smile and released his grip. “Ours, too. You’re beautiful, Melody. I hope you figure that out soon.”

  Her breath hitched and she pressed her lips together, her chest shaking.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Mitch muttered. “You’re gonna make her cry again.”

  ***

  Melody allowed herself one more deep breath, then turned to Sean.

  His blue eyes bore into her, his pupils still dilated, not only from the darkness, but from panic, too. His body was so warm, comforting her without the need for words. She wanted to snuggle into him, have him wash away this moment so she could try all over again.

  “I wanted—” The words caught over the emotion in her throat. She closed her eyes. One more steadying breath as she jutted her chin. “I wanted to dance with you. I really tried.” She snapped her mouth shut, stopping her lower lip from quavering.

  After he left her house, she clung to his confidence. A quick shower, a splash of makeup and she was ready to get dressed. That was the hardest part. Pulling on the gown was like stepping into a time capsule. One she didn’t belong in. She felt like a fraud. A pretender. The thought of Sean was the only thing that kept her moving.

  She’d been proud of herself as she drove to the hotel. She hadn’t even worn stockings to dull the severity of her injury. It was all or nothing. At least that was her rationale until she passed the fans banked at the Hennabrook driveway, and her confidence faded. The security guard stopped her, requesting I.D. It was his glance, the lowering of his scrutinizing gaze to her exposed left thigh, that caught her up.

  The noise of the crowd sank into her head, the screams for Reckless Beat morphing into hatred, taunting her with her flaws. Searching for a lifeline, she drove toward Sean’s pickup and tried to pull herself together. Only to be let down by her weakness to pull herself through.

  “It’s OK, pixie.” He ran his hands over her hair. “It’s OK.”

  She shook her head. “You were right. You do give me strength. And I needed to show you that. But I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t get out of the car. Not dressed like this.”

  She plastered a hand over her mouth, not allowing another sob to break free.

  “You’re strong.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry for making you think otherwise.”

  Her leg throbbed, not only from the pain that increased with her fragile emotions but from the scrutiny of the four othe
r men staring at her. She turned to Mason and swallowed over the question drying her mouth. “Do you understand why I can’t dance in the music clip?”

  He shook his head, his brows raised. “If the two of you dance as well as I’m led to believe, there’s no excuse.”

  “You don’t want someone like me promoting your music.”

  “Stop it, Red,” Sean warned. “I told you it doesn’t matter.”

  She ignored him, holding her breath as she raised the layers of her dress, giving Mason a full view of what she was talking about. “Look at me.”

  She didn’t take her focus off Mason as he lowered his gaze and shrugged. “You’re not the first performer with an injury.” He leaned against the side of her car, relaxed, not a care in the world. “Look at Rick Allen. He’s a total legend.”

  “And Seal.” Blake smiled at her.

  Ryan shuffled forward, resting his back against the side of Sean’s pickup. “Tommy Flanagan—Sons of Anarchy.”

  Melody frowned and squirmed in Sean’s hold until he lowered her feet to the ground. “I don’t know most of those people.”

  “Joaquin Phoenix has a scar above his lip, too.” Mitch straightened with what she thought was excitement. “And there’s David Bowie’s eye.”

  “Jesus,” Sean muttered. “They’re turning it into a game.”

  “And that dude from the Batman movie…” Mitch clicked his fingers. “The Joker.”

  Blake snorted. “That was makeup, you idiot.”

  Mitch glared and raised his middle finger. “Screw me for trying.”

  “What about Scar from the Lion King,” Mason drawled, heavy on the sarcasm.

  “I think she got the point.” Sean stepped back, positioning himself between Mason and Mitch. “Didn’t you, pixie?”

  Her cheeks heated. The nickname washed away some of the pain and replaced it with fond memories from the last three weeks. “I understand.”

  They didn’t care what she looked like. Or maybe they did. But the thing they cherished above all was Sean’s happiness. And she did, too.

  “So what do you say, Red?” He grinned, like the sun rose and set in her eyes. “Will you come inside and dance with me?”