by Lizzie Shane
The lingering irritation with her mother melted out of her gaze. “Oh.”
She didn’t object again, remaining quiet throughout dinner where she was seated halfway down the table from him again. He was seated next to the best man—who seemed almost as good at extolling the groom’s virtues as Tug was himself. Ren tuned him out, focusing instead on watching Candy and thinking about what he would sing for her.
He knew just the song.
It was one of his father’s less known recordings from his first album after the band split up. His fans had been appalled by the shift from dirty, raw rock to subtle, heartfelt lyrics and everyone had blamed Lily. Fans, critics, even Lore’s own bandmates. Ren’s mother had been the villain. But if you listened to the songs, they were all about being set free of a cage that had been killing him for too long. About the woman who was his key. The one who made life feel like it had a purpose again. The one who filled his soul up with light.
The album was chock full of love songs—some of the most gorgeous love songs ever written—but no one wanted that from Lore Tate. They wanted sex in musical form, not romance. The album had almost killed his career. But it was Ren’s favorite.
So after dinner, when they all gathered on the terrace for drinks again and one of the staff appeared at his side with a guitar while Regina announced a very special performance for them, Ren knew exactly what to play.
He half-leaned, half-sat on the wide stone railing around the balcony, tuned the guitar—which, thank God, had a decent tone—and began to play.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
One and a half years ago…
Watching Ren sing took her breath away. She didn’t know how he did it. It wasn’t just his voice—which was a gentler, slightly less raw version of his father’s. It was the way the music seemed to flow through him and she could feel every word. He didn’t just tell a story, he made her feel it. How could he expose himself like that? Reveal so much of who he was inside?
How could he be so brave?
Ren Xiao was so much more than she’d ever given him credit for. It was easy to dismiss him as a pretty face. A spoiled little rich boy. A playboy and a player who was always smiling and never seemed to take anything to heart. He made it so easy to forget that his life hadn’t always been easy and perfect. That he knew loss and loneliness better than anyone.
And then he sang like that.
Her heart felt tight in her chest as he set aside his guitar, swollen with an emotion she didn’t want to name. She wasn’t even aware of moving toward him. All she knew was one second she felt like her heart would burst if she couldn’t touch him and the next she was in his arms, his mouth on hers, wrapped around him until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
The urgency was different this time—not the sharp, frantic rush of lust, but a heavy, breath-stealing pulse of aching need. It wasn’t a race to get their clothes off. Instead, she pressed against him, wrapped around him, closer, so much closer.
“Candy,” he groaned against her throat—and she didn’t even know what he was asking, but she answered instantly.
“Yes.” Whatever this was. Wherever it was going. However tonight ended. Yes.
*
Present day…
Ren had no idea how amazing he was.
He compared himself to his father and found himself lacking—but when your basis for comparison was one of the greats of all time it was hard to get an accurate read of your own skill. Candy leaned against one of the high cocktail tables as her knees went weak from the first sound of his voice.
She recognized the song—one of his father’s old love songs—and a little shiver of nerves went through her at the idea of someone putting two and two together and figuring out who he was. But no one else seemed to see anything beyond a man with a guitar singing a love song for the bride and groom—though his eyes never left Candy.
And suddenly she was shivering for another reason.
The soft, pure notes of the acoustic ballad blended with the smoky rasp of his voice to brush over her skin like a lover’s touch.
She’d heard him play before—not often, mainly overhearing him when he played for himself in the mornings when he thought she was still asleep—but she was rarely so wholly seduced by a song as she was in this moment.
He sang about being trapped in the life he’d created and the love that held the key to set him free. About a love that taught him how to love. About wanting to accept that gift but being so lost in the past he didn’t know how.
The words hit a little too close to home, making her chest ache and her throat tighten.
When the last notes of the song faded, no one dared clap, not wanting to break the spell he’d woven over them all. Even Tug, where Charlotte leaned dreamily against him, seemed to have felt something.
Then her mother sighed, “Oh, how lovely,” and clasped her hands together—which broke the spell and gave the rest of the audience the cue to applaud.
Ren ducked his head as the applause rolled over him, handing off the guitar and quickly slipping out of the proverbial spotlight.
“I have a natural gift for music. I would have been the best guitarist if I’d ever learned,” Tug announced loudly, but Candy easily tuned her future brother-in-law out, sliding her arms around Ren’s waist and hugging herself tight to his front when he joined her at the cocktail table.
She tipped her face up to him. “That was beautiful.”
“So are you,” he murmured, dropping a light, chaste kiss on her lips before she knew what he was after.
“I don’t think I know that one,” Aiden commented and she realized he’d been standing at her side through the entire song, just as caught up in the powerful lyric as she’d been.
“Not many people do,” Ren acknowledged, not loosening his hold on Candy. “But it’s always been one of my favorites.”
“I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere before,” Alicia commented, the maid of honor strolling up to join them. “Who originally performed it?”
“Who can remember band names?” Candy said quickly before Ren could speak. “I’m terrible at things like that. Half the time I think I’m listening to the Rolling Stones when it’s Queen or The Beatles or someone else entirely.”
“That’s because you have a tin ear,” Aiden reminded her.
“At least I know better than to try to sing in public. I leave that to Ren. He has enough talent for both of us.”
Ren squeezed her gently. “Don’t sell yourself short, babe. You have other talents.”
She looked up at him again. “Oh?”
And the look in his eyes made her knees go weak again. Oh.
Aiden coughed. “On that note, I believe Alicia and I are going to make ourselves scarce. Have fun, newlyweds.”
Candy tore her gaze away from Ren’s. “We’ve been married for years.”
“Sure you have.”
Candy frowned at that enigmatic comment, but Aiden was already walking away, towing Alicia with him and leaving Candy and Ren relatively alone on their little corner of the terrace. She knew she should let go of him and go socialize with the rest of her family and Tug’s, but she couldn’t seem to make herself unlock the hands that were linked behind his back.
His head bent down and her eyes fell closed, but instead of kissing her in front of God and everyone, his lips moved beside her ear. “Do you think we’ve made enough of an appearance that we can sneak away without getting in trouble?”
“Do you care about getting in trouble?” she asked, trying to remember how to think with him so close, her heart beating fast at the brush of his breath against her skin.
She felt him smile. “Not if I get to be alone with you.”
Right answer. So very much the right answer. She finally untangled herself from around him, catching his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
His grin was wicked enough to make lust shoot down to curl her toes. God, she loved this man—
No. Not t
hat.
She was crazy about him. Nuts about him. So incredibly hot for him. But that other thing… not that.
Ren wove his fingers through hers and tugged her off the side of the terrace, taking the more direct garden route back to the carriage house rather than navigating the maze of rooms in the main house. She appreciated this tactic even more when they rounded the corner of the house, out of sight of the terrace, and suddenly he spun her into his arms.
His mouth came down on hers and dear God, how could she have forgotten how good this was?
Her heart rate tripled from one beat to the next as his lips and tongue and teeth all came into play, teasing her and tempting her beyond reason. She wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered herself to his front, as close as she could get with their clothes in the way. The fitted bodice of her dress suddenly felt too tight, her breasts full and aching before he could even touch her there. One of his hands splayed over the small of her back, pressing her close—as if she would allow any space between them—while the other stroked down over her hip, down to the hem of her skirt, his fingertips gathering the frothy material of the skirt, dragging it up against the sensitized skin of her thigh to bunch it in his fist.
Oh, sweet Christ, she was going to go up in flames right here on her grandfather’s back lawn if they didn’t stop this soon. She turned her face to the side, gasping for breath as he immediately took advantage of the opportunity to kiss along her throat.
“Ren.” She gripped his shoulders, trying to remember what rational thought felt like.
“I fucking love when you call me that.” The hand against her thigh slipped beneath her skirt, and in the hot rush of skin on skin her brain stuttered, confusion thickening her thoughts.
What else did she call him? “Ren, we can’t do this here.”
His head lifted and she watched him realize they were standing in the middle of a moonlit lawn where anyone could see them. “Point taken.”
His voice sounded rough. Uneven. All edges and sexy, raspy abrasion against her skin. Then he swept her up into his arms and her preoccupation with his voice was lost on a surprised laugh. “Ren!”
But he was already jogging toward the guest house and she was clinging to him, trying not to laugh as she bounced in his arms. He burst into the carriage house and took the stairs two at a time, barely breathing hard. She was giggling helplessly by the time he backed into their room and turned to toss her onto the bed. She laughed breathlessly as she bounced and he began yanking at his collar.
God, this felt good. Light. Like her soul was full of light.
She sat up as he went back to make sure the door was locked. “Didn’t you worry that you were tempting fate by playing one of his songs?” she asked his back as she twisted to reach for her zipper. “What if someone recognized it?”
“Then they recognized it. Why would anyone assume I was his kid?”
He’d told her mother that his parents were dead, that his father was a musician—he kept dropping hints. Almost as if he wanted them to know. But that didn’t make sense when she knew how closely he guarded that secret.
He tossed aside his dinner jacket—and she was almost sad to see it go. The man looked good in a suit. Luckily, he looked even better naked and his fingers were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He yanked the tails out of his pants and Candy knew if she was smart she’d keep her mouth shut and enjoy where this was going, but one question kept nagging at her.
“Why didn’t you tell Jessica about your past?” He froze at her words and she almost regretted the question, but she’d come this far so she went all the way. “Were you worried about how she’d react?”
He’d told her about his childhood after his parents died. About how people would hear his name and it was like they couldn’t even help it. Even good people, people he trusted, were twisted by the promise of that much money. Everyone had wanted to use him. Until his grandparents had legally changed his name and moved him halfway across the country.
She sat on the bed, her dress gaping in the back where she’d unzipped it, but otherwise still covering her, the frothy skirt pooled around her hips. Ren had frozen in the act of shrugging off his shirt, but he resumed the motion after a brief pause.
“The truth?” he asked, sliding off the shirt and tossing it aside. His bare chest was glorious, sculpted perfection, distracting her as he walked to the bed and braced his palms on either side of her. “I knew it wasn’t forever.”
He leaned over her and Candy moved in counterpoint to the motion, lying back until her shoulders touched the bed and he was braced over her, separated by inches and the strength of his arms holding them apart.
“Jessica and I never had a chance.” He lowered himself, inch by inch, until one deep breath would bring them into contact. “Because I never stopped being in love with you.”
Oh, Jesus. Oh, God. Bad. So bad. He’d brought the L word into it. A word that meant forever and marriage and lies and betrayal—but God, it sounded so good when he said it. A little panicked voice in the back of her head begged her to run for the hills, but this was Ren and he was here and his green eyes were so close to hers and for the first time in her life she felt like all the harsh edges of reality had been smoothed away by his love, like a stone worn smooth by a steady flowing stream.
She didn’t want to run. She just wanted him.
“Ren,” she whispered when his lips were a breath from hers, and he groaned.
“Do you know you almost never call me that when we aren’t in bed? Now I get hard just from hearing it. Like a fucking Pavlovian response.”
“Do you like it? Ren?”
“Fuck yes.”
Then his mouth settled on hers, his weight settled on her, and every thought she’d ever had but yes melted out of her brain on a blinding tide of want.
Yes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
One and a half years ago…
“Are we going to talk about this?”
He almost didn’t ask. He already knew the answer.
He lay on his back, naked in bed with Candy—a new experience for them—with one arm propped behind his head and the other wrapped around her slim shoulders tucking her against his side. She stiffened as soon as the words left his mouth, starting to pull away.
“I don’t—” she stammered.
“Hey.” He tightened his arm around her, drawing her back against him, tension making her muscles rigid. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk.”
And it was okay. Before he’d been frustrated when she treated him like he was just a sex toy, but he knew better now. He knew she cared for him. Maybe even loved him. Just like he knew it was hard for her to accept more from him. He didn’t know all the reasons behind it—though he’d long suspected it had something to do with her family—but right now he didn’t have to know. He could be patient.
Candy was worth it.
“We’re good,” he murmured against her hair—sandy blonde tonight—until he felt the knotted muscles in her neck and shoulders ease. “We’re perfect.”
*
Present day…
Ren lay on his back on the bed with Candy sprawled across his chest, letting the silky strands of her hair slip through his fingers. Ash blonde again today. The color of her current disguise.
“Is this your natural color?”
“Hm?” She stretched against him and the feel of her curves moving against his skin would have been enough to get him hard again if they hadn’t already thoroughly exhausted one another. She rubbed her face against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. “Close enough.”
“Do you always wear this disguise when you come to see your family?”
Candy was a chameleon. It was one of the first things he’d learned about her. The way she would disappear into her disguises, playing with people’s minds by changing her image on a whim—often two or three times a week. It felt almost jarring to see her wearing the same look all this week, day after day.
/> “What makes you so certain this isn’t my real face?”
He trailed a line down her spine. “All of them are your real face, in a way.”
That brought her head up. She rested her chin on top of the hand she rested on his chest, a small frown making a tiny wrinkle between her brows. “How can they all be my real face? I use those disguises to hide who I am.”
“If you say so.”
Her frown darkened. “You think you know better?”
“I just have a different theory.”
“Well? Enlighten me?”
“I think you use each one to show a different side of who you are and every single one of them is a piece of you. Even this one.” He tugged gently at the sedate ash blonde hair.
“This isn’t a disguise,” she argued, but there was less heat in the words, a thoughtfulness in her eyes. “I miss my disguises when I’m here like this. It feels like someone took away my Kevlar and I’m about to walk into a shoot-out.”
“Is that why you wear them?” He’d never asked her that before. Somehow sensing it was a question she wouldn’t answer truthfully, but things felt different tonight. Like there was truth in this pocket of post-coital intimacy and neither of them wanted to shatter it with a lie. “As a shield?”
“I guess.” She rested her cheek back against his chest, so he couldn’t see her eyes anymore. “It started out that way. They made me feel stronger. Protected. Now, I don’t know. It’s like they’ve become a habit I can’t break. Like they’re a crutch and I’m weak for using them, not strong like I used to think.”
“You aren’t weak. I may not know much, but I know that. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
“Am I?” She looked up at him again. “Or am I just good at convincing people I am so they never see the weakness inside?”
He cupped her jaw, running his thumb along the strong, elegant line of bone. “Strength isn’t being unbreakable. It’s standing up again when you fall. You do that. And no matter what I go into with you—whether it’s a security detail or the perils of a family wedding—I know you will always have my back and you will never let me down. Am I wrong?”