Notes of the Heart: Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series

by Charli B. Rose

  ♪ I’ll Make Love to You by Boyz II Men

  “Those look complicated to remove.” I fidgeted with the strings. “I might have to just rip them off you and buy you more later.”

  “The secret is to just pull the strings tipped in red,” she whispered.

  Impatiently, I lifted her in my arms and practically ran to the bedroom. Despite what my libido shouted, I didn’t toss her onto the bed. I gently laid her down. The mattress dipped as I eased down next to her. My eyes raked over her body. The sight of her stretched out before me covered with a few strategically placed strings made my mouth go dry and my heart pound painfully.

  She fidgeted beneath the weight of my stare. “Are you planning to just gawk at me all night?” A nervous laugh escaped her lips. Even after all this time, it made her self-conscious to be the sole focus of my intensity.

  Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, I shook my head. “No, not all night. But I am going to memorize you just like this. You’re inspiring a song in my soul. From your kaleidoscope hair…” I ran my fingers through her tresses. “To your sparkling eyes and your perfectly kissable lips…” I molded my mouth to hers for the briefest of moments. “To your beautiful heart which dictates the rhythm of mine…” I pressed my palm over her heart. Silently, I trailed a finger down the center of her torso, never stopping to savor any one spot, all the way to her foot. “To these hot pink painted toes and everything in between… you inspire me.”

  ♪ Soul Deep by Gin Blossoms

  Gently, I kissed her lips once more. I set the pace to slow and tender. When her desperation became apparent, I leaned back and propped up on my elbow to admire this miracle I was blessed enough to call mine.

  With one finger, I reached out and traced the top string on her bra. Her breath panted out. Systematically, I ran the length of each strand. Every so often, my skin brushed against her bare skin. Beneath my touch, her chest heaved, and her nipples peaked to hard points with the barest of caresses.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  My resolve to go slowly was hanging by a thread. Literally. I repeated my methodical examination of each string of her panties. They were deliciously wet and became even more so when I applied pressure to them to touch her more intimately.

  She’d finally had enough and reached for my pants. When her fingers closed around me, the thread snapped. Somehow, I managed to grab the red tipped strings and dispensed her of the scraps of fabric. Then I set to work savoring and loving the best Christmas gift I’d ever received. All the while dreaming of our forever.

  DURING IZZY’S VISIT, she was glued to my side for every appearance and outing, the label reps be damned. When I had to perform, I set her up just offstage where I could still see her easily, even when we performed with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra for the live Christmas TV special. The DVD created from the show would be another first for us. It was going to be a limited edition release for next year. The pre-order sold out in hours. Thankfully, I ordered a copy for Izzy as soon as the order form went live. It would be a nice surprise for her next year. Playing “Christmas Canon” with the iconic group was just as amazing as covering “Want to Know What Love is” with them. With Izzy watching from the stage right, the experience was perfect.

  ♪ I Want to Know What Love Is by Foreigner

  On Christmas morning, we sat naked in bed and opened our presents. She let me open my gifts first. She always was a giver.

  The first box contained a new sketchbook filled with memories of our relationship as we’d gotten older. Next was a framed photo of the two of us kissing in the park not long after we’d made our relationship official. And finally, a black thumb ring she’d designed for me to match the one she always wore. Now we had matching thumb tattoos on one hand and real rings on the other.

  With glee she opened her gifts next. I’d gotten her an ornament engraved with her drawing of our first kiss. That drawing had come to mean so much to the two of us, and to think it almost hadn’t ever existed because she took my words to heart when I told her at age eleven that the kiss hadn’t meant anything. I was such an idiot back then.

  I’d also recorded her an acoustic CD with a song inspired by our first kiss, aptly named “First Kiss”. I also included a few other Izzy inspired covers— “Izzy in the Sky with Diamonds” and “Pink”. I handed her the gift I was most nervous about next.

  ♪ Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by the Beatles

  As she pulled out the perfume bottle, she read the label, “Happily Ever After… I’ve never heard of this scent before.”

  “That’s because it’s brand new. Custom designed just for you.” I twisted the band of metal recently placed around my thumb while I waited for her reaction.

  “What?” She removed the lid and squirted the mist onto her wrist. Lifting it to her nose, she inhaled deeply. “It smells kind of sugary sweet and fruity.” She rubbed her wrist against her neck.

  “Yeah, I took your favorite scents and worked with a perfumer at a new company called Whiff. We came up with this signature fragrance for you. Do you like it?” I was so worried. Izzy had worn practically the same scent since she was thirteen.

  “I love it. It’s perfect.” She beamed at me. “What do you think?” She tilted her head to the side, offering me an expanse of skin to sniff.

  I buried my nose in the curve of her neck and inhaled deeply. “Mmmm. Good enough to eat,” I said wickedly.

  She giggled.

  “Do you really like it?” I asked again.

  “I really do,” she assured me.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and handed her the last pink box. Inside was a diamond crusted butterfly necklace.

  Without even bothering to clear the discarded wrapping paper, I allowed her to spray her new delicious smelling fragrance everywhere she wanted my mouth. I nibbled delectable swaths of flesh, making her writhe beneath me. Thankfully the perfume wasn’t toxic. We also discovered that the cool hard metal of my new thumb ring was good for more than just establishing another visual connection to remind me of her when she was physically absent. That delightful circle of steel brought unknown pleasure when pressed strategically against the top of her wet heat.

  ♪ Without You by Motley Crue

  WHILE MY MIND had wandered into the past, Brooks had created a layered track of the song. I must have zoned out for a while because by the time I came back to the present, he’d created a whole orchestra to play my latest song. Nodding my approval, I began strumming.

  I wasn’t sure if the amazing experience we had with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra was colored by the fact that Izzy was by my side during the week surrounding it or if the encounter would’ve been epic anyway. But I wasn’t opposed to us reaching out to them for a volume two, where the band wouldn’t get only a small percentage of the take while the record execs raked in the monetary rewards of our work.

  When we finally decided to call it a night, we headed back to the kitchen.

  “So, you’re heading to your dad’s in a few days, right?” Brooks grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a deep drink.

  “Yeah.” I huffed out a breath.

  “How ya feeling about seeing Izzy again after all this time?” his voice was cautious as he said her name.

  “Excited, nervous, scared out of my freaking mind.” I paced the floor as I imagined the joy I knew would fill my heart at just the sight of her. I couldn’t contain my elation at the image.

  “How you going to handle meeting her boyfriend?”

  ♪ Look Away by Chicago

  And all that elation fell to the floor like popped balloon remnants.

  “Honestly, I have no damn idea. Dad says he’s a really nice guy. And he did save Izzy’s life. But I want to hate him. He’s got my girl.” My fists clenched by my side. I really wanted to punch something.

  “I don’t envy you at all.”

  Pity filled his eyes. Brooks had witnessed our love from almost the beginning, at least from when we were old e
nough to know what love was even though we denied its existence for so long. Brooks knew what we’d meant to each other. He gave me a bro hug before he snatched his car keys from the counter.

  “You know, maybe you shouldn’t go alone. Your invite includes a plus one, right?” he said nonchalantly.

  I nodded curtly.

  “Then you should call Izzy’s mom and tell her you’re bringing a plus one.” He nodded assertively at his idea.

  “And who do you suggest I take, man?” I cocked my head to the side, waiting to hear his brilliant thoughts.

  He quirked his brow at me. “You’ve got options.” He tapped a square of white that lay discarded with a pile of junk mail.

  Unable to resist, I gazed at the white bar napkin with the feminine scrawl on it. Cleo.

  I sighed. Brooks was right. I couldn’t go alone. She’d definitely say yes if I asked her.

  But could I really make the call? If I carried her with me, would that slam the door shut on the possibility of me and Izzy having a second chance?

  CHAPTER 23

  IZZY

  With the tip of my paintbrush between my teeth, I stepped back to examine the portrait of my parents. I couldn’t halt the smile that spread across my lips. It was finally perfect. The bulk of it had been done for over a week. But every day I looked at it with a critical eye. Something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  This morning when I woke up, I finally knew what it was. My shoulders sagged in relief. Though I’d just gotten out of bed a couple hours ago, I was exhausted. My days and nights had been filled with preparing for my art show and creating Mom and Dad’s anniversary gift. Losing myself between palette and canvas made time pass quickly.

  I looked at the other easels scattered about the living room. The shaft of light coming through the window showcased two of them perfectly. Pacing the room, I dragged my fingers through my hair. Cradling my chin in my palm, I tilted my head to the side, trying to view the piece critically.

  Charles wanted some of my old spark. I really tried to infuse it into some new pieces. After attempting it on three different works, I couldn’t make it happen. So, I resorted to pulling out a few old pencil sketches and transforming them into bigger pieces. The emotion and feelings were already embedded on the paper between the strokes of colored graphite. All I had to do was copy it onto the stretched fabric. I was pleased with my recreations. But the victory was hollow.

  The ringing of my doorbell pulled me slightly out of my creative haze. Without much thought, I twisted the lock and opened the door. A small smile tipped my lips when Beckett leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips.

  “You’re early,” I said as I spun on my heel and strode back to the trio of easels.

  “No, I’m not. I’m right on time. We need to hit the road in, like, thirty minutes if we’re going to get to your parents’ house on time.” A frown darkened his features briefly.

  “What?” I screeched, giving him my full attention. There was no way I’d heard him right. I hadn’t finished packing yet.

  “Sweetheart, it’s 11:30. Aren’t you supposed to go somewhere with your mom at 2:30?”

  I bolted down the hall, calling over my shoulder, “Yes. I totally lost track of the time.”

  Diving into my closet, I grabbed my half-packed suitcase and lugged it to the bed. Then I started yanking things out of my drawers and tossing them into my bag, not even bothering to fold anything. Hopefully, some of it actually matched. I didn’t have time to coordinate. Beckett leaned against the doorframe, watching my mad dash with a smirk on his face.

  “Where are your keys? I’ll go ahead and transfer my bag to your car while you finish up,” he finally said and stood up straight.

  “On the kitchen counter… I think.” I wracked my brain, trying to recall where I’d dropped them when I came in the other day. I couldn’t even remember when I last left my apartment. Hmmm…

  While I was gathering my toiletries, Beckett’s voice called from the kitchen, “I don’t see them.”

  “Um… Try my desk or the coffee table.” I kept shoving stuff in my bag. If I forgot anything, I’d get Mom to run by the store with me once I got there.

  A few moments passed before a triumphant “Eureka,” rang out. The sound of the front door closing echoed soon after.

  Once my toiletries were in my suitcase, I zipped it up and hauled it to the living room. From the kitchen, I grabbed my phone and charger. Depositing them in my purse, I hiked it up on my shoulder and slipped on my shoes. With my pinky, I lightly dabbed the portrait of my parents. When it wasn’t tacky to the touch, I deemed it safe to move. Carefully, I maneuvered it closer to the door. As I was turning off the lights, Beckett came back in.

  “I’m ready. I left my dress and shoes for the party at my parents’ last time. I think I threw everything I need in my suitcase. If not, I’ll just go to the store there. My camera bag’s by the door. The painting’s ready. I have my phone, my charger and my Dramamine.” Mentally, I ran through any other items on my checklist.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  The huge smirk on his face distracted me momentarily. He was such a handsome man. Maybe I should try to paint him. Maybe a portrait of him would have my old spark.

  “Izzy? Are you still with me?” He snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking I should paint your portrait. You standing there with that larger than life smile and the sunlight reflecting in your eyes… You look so carefree and casual. You never look carefree. It’s a nice look on you. Your skin… Sorry, my artist brain is running amok this morning. Anyway, you asked if I was forgetting something. The answer’s no. I have everything.” I patted my purse hanging over my shoulder. Yep. Had everything essential.

  The chuckle that rumbled out of his chest was contagious. But I wasn’t sure what we were laughing at. He stepped over to me and slipped my purse from my shoulder and set it next to my suitcase. His strong hands ran the length of my arms.

  “Sweetheart, you’re wearing only a button up shirt that’s covered in paint with your sneakers. You have paint on your face and hands. And there’s a paintbrush holding up your hair. Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” His eyes were filled with laughter.

  Mortified, I tried to pull away from him, but he held tight. Beckett had never seen me this disheveled. I’d always made an effort to be put together whenever he came over. And every time we’d overnighted together, I always made it a point to wake up before him, so I could brush my hair and teeth and put on some light makeup. No wonder he’d sported a frown when I answered the door.

  “Crap. I’ve got to go take a shower and change. Sorry.” My fingers trailed down the front of my painting shirt, one I’d stolen from Dawson years ago. I was so flustered.

  “You know, you’re cute when you’re all addled,” he teased.

  “Hardy, har, har.” I smacked him on the chest and moved to my bedroom. “You could’ve clued me in a little sooner, then I’d be done showering by now.”

  “This way was more fun. Besides, I thought you’d have noticed your appearance while you were in the bathroom getting your stuff.” He trailed behind me, his hand on the small of my back.

  “Nope. One-track mind.” I flipped on the bathroom light and reached into the shower to turn on the water.

  “How about I help you get the paint off?” he offered in a seductive tone. His fingers plucked the paintbrush from my hair, letting the small coil of blonde hair unravel. “It’s been so long since we’ve been alone in the same place. Over a month. I’ve missed you. And you know your parents aren’t rooming us together.” His lips pressed against a clean spot on my jaw.

  “I know it’s been a while. But you said we were in a hurry,” my voice hitched as his tongue licked along my neck.

  “Text your mom when we get on the road. Tell her you got distracted. I’m sure after all these years, she’s used to you losing yourself in
your art. Get her to push back the appointment.” As he talked, his fingers unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it from my shoulders.

  “Mm’kay,” I breathed as he kneeled down to slip my shoes and panties off me. With one finger, he traced the butterfly tattoo on my hip. “But we should probably still hurry.”

  Quickly, he grabbed his wallet from his pants, then undressed. “It won’t take me long.”

  I climbed into the shower, trying to mask my disappointment. I’d expected him to argue with me about the time. Protest that we’d make time. The couple of times we’d utilized our video calls to share intimacy in the past week or so, he’d seemed desperate for me, in any way he could have me — even long distance. So, his statement just now made me a little sad. I thought he’d want to treasure our time. Make it last until next time.

  While the circumstances called for quick, a nagging voice inside of me said we needed more. We needed to reconnect. Hell, connect differently. Better. Something. Part of me felt like I needed to strengthen our bond. We weren’t in the place I needed us to be for me to actually consider moving in with him.

  I wondered if the weakness I felt in our relationship was due to the lack of physical intimacy. And truth be told, I hadn’t really missed it. Hadn’t ached for it. Not like I used to before…

  Before my life went to hell. I wasn’t sure if my illness and the treatments had changed me or if having my heart broken was the pivot point. But this weekend, I was going to have to tell Beckett I wasn’t ready to live with him yet. And I didn’t know what that would mean for us. Would it be the beginning of our end?