* * *
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 other 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?”
“But it’s too late.” She scanned their faces, noting the disappointment in each of their features.
“I don’t care.” He took her hand, entwining their fingers. “I want our last dance.”
“And I want to see it, too,” Mason added.
“Me three.” “Yeah.” “Let’s do this.” The remaining men spoke over one another.
She shuffled forward, nervous, anxious and more than a little daunted, as Sean opened his arm to her, pulling her into the sanctuary of his chest.
“We don’t have to do this,” he whispered into her hair. “I won’t push you again.”
She closed her eyes, breathing in his strength, letting his warmth suffuse her. She couldn’t let him go. And she couldn’t hide from him anymore either. He was here now. By her side, giving her strength. If it wasn’t now, it never would be.
“No.” She met his gaze, squeezed him with everything she had. “I’m ready this time.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sean focused on the warmth of her fingers in his hand as he led her onto the dance floor. He hadn’t left her side, not even when she entered the bathroom to fix her makeup. He wasn’t sure he ever would.
The crew had already packed up. Only two or three remained, winding cords and packing the last of their equipment. The ballroom was quiet. Peaceful. The perfect setting.
“You sure you don’t want to back out?” Her hand was trembling in his, her nervousness flowing through their connection and into his veins.
“No.” Her eyes were wide. Her chest rapidly rose and fell, but he could see her determination, could feel it in her tightened fingers.
“Can someone start the iPod?”
“I will,” Blake called.
A beep from a cell camera sounded, followed by another and another. Red jolted, glancing over her shoulder in panic.
“It’s just us,” Sean raised his voice. Confident. Strong. Completely the opposite to how he felt inside. He was prepared to tell the guys to stop. To quit recording the moment even though he’d kill to see the video. It was too late for the music clip, but he’d have one of his own. Something to cherish for later. Something they could both look back on when they were old and gray.
She gave a jerky nod and turned to him with her teeth firmly planted in her lower lip. She stole his breath and made him proud all in the same moment. His pixie. His fairy. His Melody.
“I love you.” His words drifted between them.
Her chest expanded with a sharp inhalation, her mouth gaping.
“I don’t need you to say it back. In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything at all. I just want you to know how much I care for you.” He reached for her cheek, running his fingers along the smooth skin. “You’re my world.”
The first notes of Fighting Against Attraction filled the room, startling her.
“Go on.” He jerked his chin at her. “Get in position.”
She licked her lips, dashed forward to smack her mouth against his, and then ran to her starting position a few feet away.
Nothing broke his focus as she began the routine that had etched itself on his soul. He wasn’t a dancer. He never had been. But he’d shuffle these big feet of his every damn day if it meant seeing this gorgeous woman in action.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Not when he dragged her into his body, or she lowered into the splits and slid her way between his legs. He knew his friends could see it, too—her beauty, her passion, the unmistakable connection they’d experienced with the women they loved.
Sasha had been right. Red did soar. Majestic. Breathtaking. Twirling and sauntering as if she owned the gr
ound she walked upon. There was nothing more alluring. There never would be. He was forever lost to her.
The final lyrics of the song sounded, and she began to walk away from him, following the routine. Not this time. He grabbed her hand, yanked her back, and stole her gasp with a punishing kiss.
Her hands clung to him, her body leaned into his, as though they were meant to fit together. He pulled back, looking down at her, unable to grin from the fear any movement in his face would encourage tears.
“That’s not how the song was meant to end,” she whispered, her bright eyes beaming at him, an elated smile curving her lips.
“No.” He shook his head. “But that’s how our song ends, Red. There’s no going back now. I’ll never let you walk away. You’ll always be in my arms.”
Because from now on, he’d never be able to let her go.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Sean?” Melody could hear him in the next room, could also hear the music he was listening to. “What are you doing?”
After their dance—their one life-changing dance—he’d led her to his pickup, drove her to his penthouse, and silently carried her to the front door. With his thuggish looks and the heart of the sweetest gentleman, he ran her a bath, filled it with bubbles, and left her alone to undress. He didn’t ask to join her. Didn’t stand in the doorway leering at the body she still hadn’t fully shown him. He disappeared, leaving her alone to come to terms with the overwhelming emotions of what she’d just accomplished.
The bathroom door creaked open, and he leaned against the jamb, not staring at her, purely focused on the cell in his hands. He hadn’t looked at her, she knew he wouldn’t either, not unless she asked him to.
“It’s the video of us dancing,” he murmured, finally meeting her gaze.
She nodded and turned her focus to the bubbles overflowing the bath.
“Do you want to see it?”
His voice was low, sensitive, as if scared she would break. That was far from the case. A weight lifted from her shoulders. A load heavy enough to have crippled her for twelve months now. It was mere days from the anniversary of her accident. A year of her life spent in seclusion and darkness that culminated in the most devastating panic attack to snap her out of her self-doubt. Well, at least push her into the light of day a little.
The warmth of life and achievement was suffusing her. She was free. The constricting force of uselessness having drifted off her. At least somewhat.
“I suppose that depends on how it turned out.” She met his stare, silently asking a question she didn’t want to voice.
He glanced at his screen, the scratchy sound of Fighting Against Attraction echoing softly off the walls. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
He strolled forward, reached her side, and then sat at the top step leading to the tub. “Here.” He pivoted the cell toward her. “See for yourself.”
She raised her knees, blowing the bubbles away from her face as she cuddled her thighs to her chest. The video was dark, almost romantic with the faint orange hues of illumination glistening down on them from the ceiling. She moved around the screen, her motions majestic, soulful, just like she’d known they would be. She’d never danced with more passion than she had tonight. Her routine had never been this flawless. It was the only way she could make up for the physical appearance she had no control over. It had pushed her to create a magical moment, outdoing each and every performance from her impeccable past.
And Sean…
Her man was perfect. There was no other word to describe him—his moves, his emotion, the way his gaze ate her up and spat her out just like the lyrics demanded.
“Would you let Reckless Beat use this as the music clip?”
Her focus snapped to his eyes, those deep-blue irises that held her captive. “What do you mean? That clip is barely visible.” The lazy beat of her heart increased, pounding, thundering.
“I kinda like this darkened, whimsical look we’ve got going. It’s unique. It’s passionate. It’s us.”
She glanced at the screen, at the woman and man who were madly in love and unafraid to show it. “And what about Sasha?”
“There’ll be no clip with Sasha. I’ve already told Mason to inform whoever necessary that it won’t be going ahead.”
“So you’re telling me I have no choice…”
“No.” He shook his head. “With me, you’ll always have a choice. I just can’t stomach the thought of the world watching me dance our dance with someone else. I can’t do it. The band can just as easily fly to New York and create another performance-based video. It’s completely up to you.”
He ran a hand through her damp hair, delicately sweeping the stray strands off her face with his finger. For long moments, he remained silent, his focus eating away at her, telling her the story of his love and affection. Bathing her in his sincerity.
“Can you let me think on it?” The couple on the screen filled her heart with hope. The performance so profound, so raw that the glimpses of her scar were barely noticed, even to her.
“Of course.” He leaned in, placed a delicate kiss to her hair, and then stood. “I’ll leave you to the rest of your bath.”
“Wait.” She released the hold on her legs. “There’s one more thing I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Hmm?”
“After everything we’ve been through—” She moistened her lips and met his gaze. “—I still haven’t seen you naked.”
He let out a breath of laughter. Low. Deep. So damn fine her thighs clenched.
“I can say the same about you, pixie.”
She inclined her head. True.
They’d slept together many times. He’d also now seen her at her most vulnerable. Still, she was nervous. Butterflies of anticipation took over her stomach. The burn of arousal heated her sex. Could anything be scarier than what she’d been through earlier today?
No. Not when it was just the two of them.
Her and Sean.
The man of her dreams.
She raised her chin, sucked in a breath, and gripped the side of the bath. With pride tightening her belly and excitement fraying her nerves, she pushed to her feet, the rush of water and bubbles cascading down her body in a temporary waterfall.
Time stopped. They didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Only the faint coating of white, silky foam dared to move as it slid over her skin.
“I lied.” He stared. His attention roamed every inch of her, from her knees, to the apex of her thighs, and higher to her breasts. She held her breath, luxuriating in his admiration as he took a step forward. “Now I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
The heat in his eyes rocked her foundations more than his exquisite affirmation. His fingers rose, those strong, steady hands working to undo his already loosened tie. He yanked it over his head, let it fall to the floor, then began undoing his buttons, one by one, so slow she was sure the wait would kill her.
His white dress shirt was shoved off his shoulders, the material falling behind him as he raised a wicked brow, taunting her with his confidence.
“I’ve already seen that part.” She loved this. Loved him. He hadn’t even acknowledged her scar, didn’t even look there. As if it didn’t exist. And maybe it didn’t. Not to him.
“Such a greedy little pixie.” He unclasped his belt buckle, lowered his zipper and shucked his black pants. “Satisfied yet?”
“Almost,” she breathed. His legs were cords of muscle, thick, tight, so damn gorgeous. But it was higher, the erection held prisoner in his boxers that made her mouth salivate. “Take it all off.”
There was no chuckle now. No humor at all as he shoved the elastic waistband down his thighs, exposing more flesh then she had anticipated. Whoa. No wonder the sex between them was so good.
He cleared his throat and she glanced up at him, her cheeks heating in chagrin. This man was hers. Every inch. Every muscle. And by the end of the night, she would own it all.
“Ready?” he
growled.
“For what?” Whatever it was, she was prepared. Between her thighs most of all. She’d follow him anywhere. Let him lead her to heaven and hell and back again.
His lip curled in a delicious smirk filled with promise and love.
Then he leapt for her.
Reckless Rendezvous
Reckless Beat #4.5
Chapter One
“Take me to the Bellagio, please.”
Leah relaxed into the back of the cab and pulled her cell from her handbag. The device was turned off. Had been since she fled Richmond, Virginia, this morning. She couldn’t bring herself to turn it on. Not even now, when she was thousands of miles away, approaching the blinding lights of Vegas.
The texts and missed phone calls on the way to the airport increased her guilt. Her clients, the illustrious Reckless Beat band members, wanted answers.
Answers she didn’t have.
Explanations she couldn’t give.
One minute, she had a smooth sailing career. She was the queen of fixing fuck ups. Not a day passed without one of the musicians causing some form of drama. Big or small. Those dilemmas were a leaf in the wind. A breath of fresh air compared to the shit she’d put herself in.
She’d kissed Ryan, the Reckless Beat rhythm guitarist.
Well, technically, he’d kissed her.
He’d backed her into a corner, spewing hateful, caustic words about a wife he now despised. Then he stole the breath from her lungs, the beat from her heart, the strength from her legs, and kissed her senseless.
It had been pure, undiluted perfection—until she realized she wasn’t dreaming.
The panic set in.
The soft lips pressed against hers belonged to her best friend. The rough scrape of clean-cut beard against her skin was from the man she adored. The tongue tangling with hers was none other than Ryan’s—a man she’d successfully hidden her love from for too many years to count.
Jesus fucking Christ.
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