Raw Rhythm (Found in Oblivion Book 6)

by Cari Quinn

This woman would never need his help for long. But him? He was fucking sunk.

  Done.

  Gone.

  Even prepared for it, he wasn’t ready for her to turn toward him again as she started “If I Was Your Woman.” Because this time, she wasn’t searching for her strength by channeling the anger she felt for him. Or perhaps she was. Something had to be fueling the passion in her eyes, that trembled in her voice. Not from weakness or fear. From a depth of feeling that made him grasp his drumsticks hard enough to cause a goddamn cramp. But he kept playing, needing to feel the familiar reverberation through the skins and the hi-hats while he fought not to look away from her.

  He couldn’t look anywhere else.

  She should be facing the audience. He knew it. Scooby definitely knew it, because he kept tapping his pedals and jerking on his guitar cord to try to get her attention. She paid him no mind. Her focus was riveted on Mal with a precision that could have flayed the paint off the walls.

  The skin off his body.

  He couldn’t hear beyond the throb of his heartbeat in his head to follow the beat in his earpiece. Didn’t really matter, since she dragged him through the song with her as if he was her captor. The spell she wove was more powerful than even his need to turn away.

  Maybe he just wanted to fucking believe that for one moment, just fucking one, she could be his.

  When she finished, she cupped the microphone in her good hand and shifted to face the eerily silent audience. Slowly, one by one, they started to clap and stomp their feet. Oh, there were a few grumbles—there always were—but overall, the response was overwhelmingly positive.

  Behind the kit, Mal wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He had to be smiling like an idiot. It was stupid to be proud of her, because she’d done all that without him. She had no clue of her own abilities.

  In any way.

  Her stance relaxed and her smile returned as she glanced toward Scooby to confirm something, and Mal ducked his head before she saw his dumb grin.

  Except he wasn’t quick enough. Never was when it came to her. She shot him a look, her eyebrows pulling tight as she took in his face. He did his best to clear it, but after a second, she flashed him a dazzling smile that told him succinctly the game was over.

  And he’d won, because he’d just been serenaded by the sexiest goddamn woman he’d ever known. Even if she hated him.

  Even if he didn’t blame her.

  Watching her for the rest of the set was torment like he’d never known. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what it was like to be behind her every night for a couple hours. That was his life, and he derived a sick sort of pleasure from seeing her get really into playing her guitar, bending over it so her hair trailed almost to the floor while her head bobbed to the music. This was something else altogether. She was in a sort of command here, though this band was on loan. He never would’ve guessed it. She might’ve tripped at first, but she found her way.

  By the end of it, he was the one who was lost.

  He made it through the last couple of songs through sheer will. They were new to him too, obviously, since he’d only done a few gigs with Venus Rising. But that wasn’t why he couldn’t keep up.

  He was addicted to watching her.

  She was in her element. Those few moments she disappeared into the music enough to sway while she sang, and the little bits of laughter she gave to the audience—hell, even the irritated glance she flicked him when he fumbled a crossover during the bridge to “Chasing Shadows” and screwed up her entrance—were his undoing.

  If he’d had to see her sing every night, he would’ve quit Warning Sign within the first month. There was only so much one man could take.

  Your fault. This was all your bright idea.

  After they took their bows and ran backstage, Mal headed straight for the men’s room. He needed a piss and to splash his face with enough icy water to get his head straight.

  He wasn’t going to have made it this many months—years now—and reveal everything without even making the choice. It just wasn’t going to happen.

  “What did you think?”

  Her voice stopped him cold. He couldn’t ignore the question.

  Not even if she figured out all he didn’t have a way to hide.

  Swallowing hard, he turned back around. Her cheeks were ruddy with exertion, her huge eyes luminescent in a way he’d never seen.

  More than anything, he wanted to keep that look on her face. And because he was a selfish, needy bastard, he wanted to be the one to put it there.

  “You were magnificent.”

  Her mouth quivered before her expression smoothed out into a smile. “Thank you. You weren’t though. So not like you. Normally, you’re flawless. What happened?”

  For an instant, he was almost bold enough to tell her the truth—if only so he wouldn’t have to carry it around alone anymore.

  I fell in love with a woman I can never have.

  But telling her wouldn’t change shit. Words didn’t mean anything. He’d learned that a long time ago. Actions were what counted, and words were lies.

  So he gave her a pretty one so she wouldn’t look too close.

  “Must be because some hot chick hit me right here.” He rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest, slow and sure. “Some aim she has.”

  Her grin spread and she wiggled her fingers. Not the ones on her injured arm. She still wasn’t using it for much. “Guess you’re not the only one who’s good with his hands.”

  He waited until she went back to talk to Scooby before heading toward the men’s room. Just before he left, he heard Scooby mention wanting to gig with her again the next time she was in town.

  Her laughter made it all worth it. And then some.

  Chapter Twelve

  At three am, Elle toed off her high-heeled shoe and rubbed her heel. “Damn torture devices. I know why Li packed this pair for me, though they came in handy.”

  “Because those torture devices are part of her daily wardrobe?”

  Elle glanced at Mal on the other side of the circular booth they were seated at in Club X. After the success of that night’s show, the band—including the two temporary members—had hit a few bars and clubs. They were actually a fun couple of guys once they loosened up.

  Well, minus the obvious exception of Mr. Grumpy Pants, who’d been in fine form for the last four hours. He’d only danced with her when she’d called him a chicken. Dancing still wasn’t the right word for what he did while music was playing and strobe lights were flashing, but she’d made do by using his giant shoulders as her own kind of stripper pole.

  Pissing him off had almost been worth how much she’d worked herself up. Working him up had been an added bonus. There had been no missing his erection even in the darkened club.

  She also might’ve rubbed against it accidentally on purpose a time or thirty.

  And she didn’t know where she was going with that one. He might be revved, and she might be revved, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  He was an asshole. All right, not always, but most of the time. They had to see each other every day. Eat breakfast across the same table on a tiny bus.

  And they were the only uncoupled ones left in the band.

  That little fact hadn’t escaped her notice. It was probably natural to be jealous of everyone else pairing off—or tripling up—but that didn’t mean she should do something crazy.

  Randy’s grinning face flashed into her head and her stomach roiled, her good humor disappearing as if it had never been.

  “What?” He leaned forward from where he’d been sprawled against the back of the booth like a big lazy lion, his expression instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, smiling slightly. It was the only way she could keep from crying. Just like that. “When did you get so good at reading me?”

  He immediately relaxed, jerking a shoulder as he reclined again. For the first time, she wondered if he was feigning his king of cool act. If
maybe he wasn’t nearly as blasé as he seemed.

  His cock definitely wasn’t. Damn alligator. That was the best way for her to think about it—snapping teeth and all. Or else she might just be tempted to climb on and say to hell with tomorrow.

  Tomorrow might never come. They’d learned that well enough. The least she could do was die wearing an O face.

  She swallowed, tracing a fingertip through the condensation on the table from her glass of Coke. He probably would’ve barked if she’d gone for anything stronger, but tonight, she hadn’t needed it.

  Until now.

  “Did you realize we’re the only ones who are still single in the band?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “I had that thought, then I thought of everyone doubling and tripling up, and—”

  “I get it.”

  Her head jerked up and she locked her eyes with his. Of course he got it. That was a terrible thing they’d always have in common, sharing a stage during that final show.

  Living when someone else had died.

  “I didn’t think of it tonight,” she said, shame burning through her as hot as a wildfire. “I’d been sure I would, being on stage again. It’s only been such a short time. I thought of it today at practice. But when I was up there, I guess I was channeling Molly or something, because I forgot.” She sniffled and rubbed her wrist under her nose as it dripped. “How could I forget?”

  Jules sure as hell couldn’t. She didn’t have that luxury.

  “Because you deserved that moment,” Mal said, his voice barely above a whisper. But she felt every word in her soul. “You deserve a hell of a more like that, but that was a start.”

  She couldn’t look at him. Her eyes were full, on the verge of overflowing, and everything felt like a lie.

  Especially this moment, this night. That it was the two of them, survivors of a war they’d never meant to fight, sitting together in a place so far from their home.

  The comfort they sought with each other didn’t have to be anyone else’s business. It could be one more thing they shared.

  He didn’t want anyone to know he was with her. That they’d been together in any capacity, even non-physical. Earlier, his lie to his brother had hurt. Now it made her decision seem more rational.

  If it was a secret, she didn’t have to second-guess herself and her choices. They’d do it, it’d be one night, and they could just throw away the key.

  No one would question her if she’d gone crazy. No one but herself.

  Swallowing deeply, she whisked her fingers under her eyes. “If I asked you how you felt about picking up a girl at a club, what would you say?”

  He ran his thumb around the rim of his glass. It took him so long to respond that she wished she could pull the words back and pound them to dust.

  Stupid. She was so stupid. He didn’t want her like that. Sure, he’d get hard when she practically flung herself at him and had invited him into the shower. He was a dude. That didn’t mean he wanted to do anything about it when his blood wasn’t rerouted south.

  She was a fool. Not the first time. Not the last.

  “Depends who the girl is.” His voice was still so low she could barely hear it. Her nipples, however, seemed to have receptive abilities her ears did not. They were perfectly aware of what he was getting at.

  He wanted her to say it. To come right out and make it clear what she was asking for.

  Who.

  Now would be a really good time for a drink.

  “You don’t need one.”

  Oh God, had she spoken aloud? Jesus, she was going to glue her lips shut. Possibly her legs too. The area between them tended to get her in all kinds of trouble.

  Alligator, remember? Snapping teeth. You aren’t built for Mack truck action anyway.

  “Me. I’m the girl. And if you wanted to pick me up, I’d say yes. Probably.” There. She’d given herself an out if he laughed at her.

  A pretty pathetic one, but still.

  “Probably?”

  She swallowed again and realized she could drink possibly an entire gallon of something. Anything to parch the dryness in her throat.

  What the hell was she doing? She didn’t even like the guy. That didn’t have a whole lot to do with fucking him though.

  “I would say yes.” She met his stare head-on and fisted the hand of her injured arm in her lap. “As long as you didn’t expect anything too athletic, because…broken.”

  “You’re not broken.” His tone was far too sharp for a guy who’d just been propositioned for non-athletic sex.

  Weirdo.

  “So are we leaving or what?”

  He leaned back again and stretched his arm along the booth. “Tell me why.”

  “What?” She let out a baffled laugh, leaning forward so he could hear her over the thumping music and other voices. Not that he’d offered her the same courtesy, but whatever. “Why do people usually have sex?”

  “All sorts of reasons.”

  “Maybe you do. Me? I do it because I’m horny.”

  He tapped his fingers along the top of the leather booth, not looking at her. Making her strain to hear what he said next. “All of a sudden, you’re horny for me. Kinda coincidental, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, it coincided with me seeing the python in your pants and wanting to ride it.”

  For a second, she thought he was going to smile. Rare as a rainbow, those were, and twice in one day seemed nearly unthinkable. But then even the hint was gone from his face. “You’ve seen it plenty. Used to call me an exhibitionist, remember?”

  “Well, you are. And yes, I saw it. But I never rubbed against it.” Dear God, were they really discussing his dick in public? And was it really making her tingle in places that had absolutely no shame whatsoever?

  “So that’s what did it.”

  She huffed out a breath. “I don’t get what you’re getting at.”

  He pinned her with another glance, one far more direct than she was prepared for. She wanted to fall into those deep dark eyes of his and never find her way out. “Give it some thought and get back to me.”

  Yep, that sealed it. The guy was officially a weirdo.

  She shook her head and dug her phone out of her bag as it went off with Teagan’s ringtone. Thank God she hadn’t slept with him.

  Even if she wanted to. Really, really wanted to. She’d heard enough women making noises in his bed over the years that yes, she could admit to some curiosity about his talents in that arena. As far as she was concerned, she’d more than earned some decent sex after the string of duds she’d endured.

  Besides, it could all end tomorrow. There were no guarantees. No promises that mattered. Might as well get a couple of meaningless orgasms while she was still breathing.

  She accepted the call and turned her back on Mal. Asshole. “Teag? What’s up?”

  It was awfully late for her friend to be calling. She’d talked to her that morning after the shower that had sucked, and she’d apologized profusely for leaving Teagan to go off with Mal. They were the most improbable words she’d ever uttered, but they were the truth. Then Teag had apologized to her, because she felt as if she’d gone off with Bobby, that guy they’d met, and left her with Mal.

  A few minutes later, they’d been laughing and everything was fine.

  Teagan wasn’t laughing now.

  “Ricki, please come. Please.”

  Elle gripped the phone tighter. “Teagan, what’s wrong? Where are you?” She shifted toward Mal, grateful in a way she couldn’t fully acknowledge that he’d moved to the edge of the booth and was watching her intently.

  She wasn’t alone to handle this—whatever this was. But it was something.

  “I-I don’t know. I went out tonight with that guy. Bobby. We just went dancing.” Teagan took a shaky breath. “Then I came home and oh God.”

  The back of Elle’s neck grew cold and she threw another look at Mal, this time to center herself. To be enough for Teagan right now she
had to hook into his strength. Her own supply was beyond depleted.

  He watched and he waited. Poised and ready.

  “Tell me what happened,” Elle said softly, grasping the phone so tightly that her fingers grew numb. It was only then she realized she was holding it with her injured arm.

  She quickly switched hands.

  “The door was open. I should’ve stayed outside. But Bobby dropped me off and split, said he had—he had somewhere he needed to be. I think he had another girl lined up after me.” She let out a hiccuping laugh edged with despair. “It’s okay. It’s so soon for me, you know? I just needed to feel wanted.”

  “Yes.” Elle shut her eyes. “I know.”

  “I thought I’d left the door unlocked somehow. That maybe I’d just gotten distracted, but I don’t, ever. Then I came inside, and I tripped and fell. There was stuff everywhere. Someone broke in. They trashed the place. Oh, Ricki, do you think this could be—” She stopped. “I hope it was just someone random, but I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Her ex. That had to be who Teagan was referring to. Her friend hadn’t said much about the guy, just that they’d dated for a while before living together but that things had gone south fast. He sounded possessive and, well, dangerous. And that was what she’d picked up from Teag soft-pedaling the situation. She never wanted to cause drama or dwell on bad things.

  Now bad things had been brought right to her doorstep.

  “We’ll be right there. Call the police and then lock the door. Don’t open it to anyone but us.”

  “Wait, we who? I don’t want anyone else to see this, to see me right now.” She choked back a sob. “Just you, please.”

  “Honey, Mal’s with me. You remember Mal?”

  “Yes. Okay, yes. Your bandmate.” She blew out a breath. “Can’t he just drop you off—”

  “No, he can’t.”

  Elle’s head snapped back as she realized Mal had slipped out of the booth as silently as a panther and come around behind her to listen to her conversation. His head wasn’t pressed to hers, but Teagan’s voice was loud and shrill with nerves, and Mal was a damn nosy fuck.

  Grateful he’s here, remember?