Steady Beat

by Lexxie Couper

  Pepper swallowed, nodding her head. Noah had told her a few days ago of the lead guitarist’s idea—a small, low-key performance somewhere in New York without any fanfare or publicity, just to get a feel for the vibe.

  As if sensing her trepidation, Noah changed his grip on her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “It’s a good idea. Will give you a taste of performing to a crowd.”

  She swallowed again. “I know.”

  He smiled. “You’ll be amazing, but that’s not why I brought it up. I’m wondering what you would do if you were in charge of us?”

  Pepper blinked. What would she do for a band comprising the world’s best drummer, a lead guitarist classified as a legend, a bass player who won Oscars on the side for his film scores and a keyboard player unrivaled by his peers? How would she sell that group, especially if they were fronted by an untested, unknown female singer? How would she even hope to manage them?

  A familiar wave of excitement shot through her apprehension. Her brain began to conjure a list of things she’d do if she were their manager before she could rein it in.

  “I’ve no fucking clue what a manager would do in this situation,” Noah went on, his grin self-deprecating. “Even when I was playing in after-school bands as a teenager, I just turned up when and where I was told to for a gig. I’m lucky if I know what day it is most of the time. Sam is furious about Daltry pissing off of course—hence the hangover—and we haven’t told Levi or Jax yet, but I was just curious what you’d do with us in our unusual situation.” His thumb tapped out a steady beat on the side of her hand, his gaze holding hers motionless. “What would you do if you were our manager?”

  Pepper’s mind whirled again. She stared at him, her heart beating fast in her throat. “I’d start with the small intimate appearance at a popular bar,” she said, the words confident. Sure. “No announcement at all about the band members’ identities. I’d record the audience’s reaction as they realized who they were watching and release it on YouTube, Facebook and Twitter. Then the next day, I’d send out a press release.” She paused, the wording of the announcement already forming in her mind. “I’d send it out to every musical publication along with the mainstream press. I’d book you spots on all the late-night television programs—Conan, Letterman, Leno, as well as Saturday Night Live. I’d make sure you were featured in Rolling Stone, pulling every contact I have to land the cover. I’d avoid the word comeback and push the word rebirth. I’d arrange a coast-to-coast tour, starting in L.A. and ending in Central Park with one hundred free tickets to each concert in all major cities given away to radio stations that played your first single more than five times a day.”

  She took a breath. The thrill of organizing something so amazing made her blood sing.

  “I’d arrange a viral campaign of YouTube clips showing the band members prepping for a secret appearance and I’d lock you all in a hotel suite and wouldn’t let you out until you’d written at least three original songs.” She smiled at him. Her heart was beating five miles a minute. Damn, she was almost buzzing with the hypothetical possibilities. It was such a rush, one she remembered with longing. “How’s that sound?”

  Noah whistled again. “Absolutely perfect. Incredible. If it wasn’t for the fact you are going to be a part of the band, I’d ask you to replace Daltry here and now.”

  She studied him, chewing on her bottom lip, and then raised her phone from her lap and dialed a number she hadn’t called for quite a while. “Henry?” she said, when a smooth male voice purred hello into her ear after the third ring. “It’s Pepper Kerrigan. I have an incredible band you will want playing in your joint ASAP. Rock so raw and carnal it’ll make you simultaneously weep and climax.”

  She grinned at Noah’s stunned expression.

  In her ear, the owner of the small Upper West Side establishment she’d launched Black Toad Dare’s career in laughed. “Say no more, Baby K. Fate is being kind to us both. I’ve just had a group cancel on me this morning. How’s this Friday? Nine p.m.?”

  Triumphant excitement blossomed in Pepper’s stomach, a second before abject terror destroyed it. Oh God, so soon?

  She gripped the phone, a conflicted mess. “Perfect,” she croaked, her vision blurring, her heartbeat rapid. “I’ll call you later with more deets. They’re called The Han Solos.”

  Hanging up, she squeezed her eyes shut. What had she done? And The Han Solos? Really? What was the band going to think of that? What was Noah—

  An impressed whistle tickled her senses and she swung to Noah, not sure what to say. “Err…”

  He leant forward and brushed his lips over hers in the quickest of kisses. “That was incredible. Amazing. A thing of beauty. The Han Solos. Perfect.”

  His praise—sincere and warm—licked a path through her fear, soothing her soul. “Thank you,” she murmured, loving the way his palm pressed closer to her.

  The rest of the trip past quickly. Too quickly. Pepper never wanted it to end. Sitting with Noah, talking about music and movies and life was the closest to heaven she’d ever been.

  And then the limo slowed to a halt, the privacy glass lowered and the driver twisted around to face them. “We’re here, sir,” he said to Noah.

  Noah grinned at Pepper. “Ready?”

  The butterflies in Pepper’s belly erupted.

  She was about to sing with the greatest rock musicians in the world.

  God help her.

  Noah had never heard the words to “Burnt” sung in such a way. The only song he’d ever written tore from Pepper’s heart, raw and angry and haunted.

  He’d written the song years ago, after his first fight with Heather when she’d called him a pathetic idiot who couldn’t finish a damn sentence.

  It was an angry song of pain and self-doubt.

  It was his song, his pain, and yet sitting at his drum kit, thrashing out its beat, it was a song he’d never lived before.

  Pepper wrung out every note with tormented anguish, her voice soaring, her inflections a perfect complement to the lyrics. When Nick had sung “Burnt”, the critics had labeled the song harrowing in its broken pain. Billboard called it “a wretched heartache trapped in beautiful music”. Nick had asked Noah to write another song, but Noah never had it in him.

  Now, with the rhythm in his soul beating in perfect harmony with Pepper’s voice, he knew there was more in him—all good, all wonderful, all real. All focused.

  Occasionally, he’d watch Pepper move to Samuel, harmonizing a line with the lead guitarist. She worked the notes, including Jax and Levi at the most sublime moments, hitting emotions Nick never had.

  Other times, he closed his eyes and surrendered to the exquisite beauty of her voice. Sweat flung from his forehead, dripped from his damp hair, and he felt calm. His mind—a riotous state when not at the kit—thrummed with the peace of playing.

  As always when he played, no matter how frenzied or savage the beat, his world was calm.

  Calm and right.

  And yet, he’d never experienced this level of contentment at the kit.

  He knew it was Pepper. Pepper singing his words.

  Pepper singing his soul.

  Christ, he was lost to her.

  The song ended, its dying breath solely Noah pounding out the crescendo.

  He slammed his sticks against the hi-hat, letting the strike reverberate around the Loft’s cavernous space.

  It rose to the ceiling, and then silence claimed the room.

  “Fuck me,” Samuel muttered.

  Noah opened his eyes. His gaze found Pepper without thought.

  She stood at the microphone, sheer amazement shining in her face. He winked at her, afraid if he tried to say something he’d fuck up the perfection of the moment.

  Or say something stupid.

  Like I love you?

  “You, Ms. Kerrigan,” Levi said, the cord of his bass trailing behind him as he crossed to where Pepper stood, “are incredible.”

  “You sang the shit
out of that song,” Jax agreed. “I think you gave me a hard-on.” He dropped a look below the keyboard and nodded. “Yep, I’m as hard as a bloody—”

  “Okay, Liberace. Settle down,” Samuel cut him off. Noah knew he should be laughing. He couldn’t. He was still too moved by what he’d just experienced.

  Pepper smiled, her cheeks filling with pink. She ducked her head, swiping a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Not bad,” Samuel said, adjusting the strap on his Strat. “Let’s see what you do with ’Gotta Run‘.” He hit the first chord before Pepper could acknowledge his compliment.

  Noah thumped out the accompanying beat, unable to stop his smile spreading over his face. Jesus, he was happy. Ecstatic.

  Euphoric.

  Five songs later, during the middle of “Today”, when Pepper turned to Noah and sang, “I’ll hold you ’til you let me. And then plead for time,” he knew he couldn’t play anymore.

  He stopped. Just like that.

  He lowered his sticks to his thighs and stared at her. Just stared, his heart a sledgehammer slamming against his chest, his breath a ragged soundtrack to the whirlwind of emotions claiming him.

  Mid-lyric, Pepper stopped singing. She studied him, her teeth catching her bottom lip. A question shone in her brilliant-blue eyes.

  Jax stopped next, the sound of his keyboard dying away. The deep backbone of the bass came to a halt as well, Levi’s stare prickling over Noah’s senses.

  Two bars later, Samuel ceased playing and turned to face Noah. “What’s up, Holden?”

  Noah didn’t move his gaze from Pepper’s face.

  Now. It had to be now.

  Before he died.

  “Everyone needs to fuck off out of here,” he stated, his voice hoarse.

  Jax laughed. “What?”

  Levi let out a knowing ahh.

  Noah didn’t move. Neither did Pepper.

  When Samuel walked over to her and took her in his arms, Noah had to bite back his roar of possessive fury.

  “Playing with you is sublime,” Samuel said, smiling at Pepper. “I can’t wait to perform with you in public. The world won’t know what hit it.”

  Pepper drew a swift breath, but her gaze didn’t leave Noah’s face for any more than a heartbeat.

  Samuel turned to Noah, meeting his stare across the distance. “There’s not a single person in the world better than you at pounding out a rhythm, mate,” he said. “Let her see that, not just in your body, but in your heart, okay?”

  Noah nodded. Or maybe he stayed motionless. He didn’t really know.

  All he could do was stare at Pepper and ache for her.

  Need her.

  “C’mon guys,” Samuel’s voice barely penetrated the roaring in Noah’s ears. “I think we’re done for today.”

  The sound of the exit door banging shut an eternity later smacked through Noah.

  Pepper stood motionless at the mic, holding it with one hand. The same hand he’d held in the limo.

  She watched him, her lips parted.

  Without a word, he rose from his stool, placed his sticks on the snare and walked around the kit.

  His heart thumped harder. His groin throbbed. His stomach clenched.

  He walked to her.

  Stopped directly in front of her.

  Held her gaze with his.

  And then slid his fingers under the hemline of her shirt and pulled it up over her head.

  Chapter Seven

  The soft material of Pepper’s shirt shimmied over her chin, her lips, her face like a silken caress. Cool air kissed her newly exposed skin. Her nipples, already puckered, pinched tighter, rubbing against the lace of her bra.

  When Noah tossed her shirt aside, his gaze roaming over what he’d revealed, a ripple of terrified rapture claimed her.

  He lifted his blue gaze to hers, his nostrils flaring. His hair hung over his forehead, damp and messy. “I need you.”

  It was a statement, but at the same time a question. Pepper knew if she shook her head, he’d step away. She trusted him. He’d back off and give her the platonic space she’d told him she wanted. All it would take was one word from her.

  She reached behind her back and released the fastener of her bra.

  The delicate lace fell away from her breasts. “I need you,” she whispered.

  Noah sucked in a slow breath. His stare held hers, despite what she’d just revealed to him. “Say it again.”

  Pepper’s sex constricted at the raw desire in his voice. “I need you, Noah Holden. I want you. Now.”

  He closed his eyes, his jaw bunching. “Pepper,” he groaned, “I didn’t plan on it happening here. There’s no bed, no roses, no—”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips, smiling when his gaze returned to hers. “I can’t think of anywhere else more perfect.”

  His jaw bunched once more. And then, almost reverent, he brushed the palms of his hands up her ribcage, over the side swell of her breasts.

  She let out a soft moan, swaying slightly into his barely-there touch.

  His thumbs skimmed the tips of her breasts, a feather-light stroke of flesh on flesh. It was the only contact he made.

  It drove Pepper wild.

  Her pussy contracted again, an insistent, impatient throb.

  She watched him as he continued to tease her nipples, the honest hunger etched on his face making her head spin.

  He brushed at her nipples with his thumbs and then circled them with steady fingers.

  She swayed toward him again, aching for more.

  He trailed his fingertips around her areola once, twice before tracing a slow line up over the swell of her breasts to the base of her throat. Pepper lifted her chin, closing her eyes as he lowered his head and touched his tongue to the shallow dip there.

  A shiver raced through her. Warm moisture pooled in her sex.

  She didn’t move. Stood motionless, offering everything she was to Noah.

  He raised his head from her throat, his delicate caress of her nipples resuming. With every stroke on her flesh, Pepper’s need grew. And still, Noah did little more than explore her breasts and nipples with tender fingertips.

  Her breath left her in shallow hitches. Her belly clenched.

  She licked her lips, staring up at his face as he watched his hands move over her body.

  Oh God, she would not survive much more. Was it possible to orgasm without any physical contact of her sex?

  Another ripple of aching need claimed her. She whimpered, her eyes closing again. And then gasped when he closed warm lips around her left nipple. She bucked, burying her fingers in Noah’s hair.

  He worshiped the taut peak with gentle laps of his tongue, circled its puckered tip in slow swipes.

  “Noah,” Pepper murmured, rolling her head backward. “Oh, Noah…”

  He removed his mouth from her breast and blew a cool stream of air on her moistened flesh.

  Pepper’s pussy squeezed, longing for a cock that wasn’t there. Noah’s cock.

  She’d never wanted to feel a man inside her like she did him.

  “Noah,” she murmured again. “Please…”

  He slowly lowered himself to his knees before her, smoothed his palms over her hip and pressed his lips to her belly.

  She let out a low groan, the absence of his mouth, his fingers on her nipples an exquisite counterpoint to the warmth of his hard body against her thighs. His chest pressed the curve of her sex, the heat of his body branding her through the crotch of her hot pants. She raked her nails over his shoulders, under the collar of his shirt. His skin scalded her fingers, smooth and slicked with sweat. His muscles flexed under her touch, sculpted to perfection.

  She lowered her gaze, wanting to see his lips on her bare belly.

  He charted a slow path around her navel, his hands spanning her hips. His tongue flicked at the tiny scar left from the belly ring she’d worn in her youth before he kissed it with gentle lips.

  Her breath caught in her thro
at, the action driving her closer to the edge. How could someone who’d just spent the last hour pounding out the most powerful rhythm on a drum kit, who radiated raw energy and charged vibrancy be capable of such tender patience now?

  It made Pepper delirious.

  It made her wet.

  “Noah,” she rasped, “please…”

  He rained a string of kisses down to the waistline of her pants, even as his hands skimmed a slow path up her ribcage to her breasts. He cupped each one, framing her nipples between strong fingers. She moaned, pushing her hips forward, tugging at the damp strands of his hair. His tongue flicked at the sensitive flesh just above her fly, the caress mirrored by his kneading hands.

  The building pressure in Pepper’s core grew tighter. She whimpered, her whole body aching.

  “Please,” she repeated, covering one of Noah’s hands with her own. She squeezed her breast with his fingers, forcing him to touch her with more force. “I want—”

  He straightened to his feet and crushed her mouth with his.

  The kiss was savage. Hungry. In direct contrast to the reverent passion in his hands. His tongue took possession of hers, fierce and wild. He framed her face with his hands, positioning her head exactly where he wanted it. He nipped her bottom lip before he sucked it, holding her motionless.

  Pepper’s head spun. Her heart raced. She pushed her hips forward, moaning when the steely length of his erection ground to her lower belly.

  He razed her throat with his lips, nipping and sucking as he made his way to her ear. Capturing her earlobe, he bit the fleshy pad. She cried out, ramming her hips to his.

  He groaned, one hand leaving her face to drag down her body. He covered her breast once again, his thumb rolling back and forth over her distended nipple until her knees began to tremble.

  “Oh God,” she gasped. “I can’t…this is…”

  He removed his hand from her breast, even as his mouth reclaimed hers.

  He explored her mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss. She met him with equal want, raking her nails down his back, around his waist. She sought his belt buckle.