by Eden Summers
There was an edge to her tone. Not anger or frustration. It was something far worse, and he was the culprit.
She turned sharply and disappeared through a metal door—the stairwell entry. The heavy barrier closed between them by the time he got there and he shoved through to see her descending to the lower platform.
“You’ve got the wrong impression.” He tried to back it up with a chuckle but all it achieved was a narrowed scowl as she continued to descend the opposite staircase. “It wasn’t drugs. You know me better than that.”
She didn’t reply. Didn’t acknowledge his presence.
He jumped three stairs at a time, over and over, until he caught up to her at the lower landing. “Hear me out.” He slid in front of her, blocking her path to another staircase. “It wasn’t drugs. It was powered sugar.”
“Whatever you say.” She was shaking as her gaze met his—her arms, her legs, her beautiful lips.
“Whatever I say?” They’d been best friends for years. They’d shared everything. She’d become his everything. And after months of ignoring him, she’d lost her trust, too? Something snapped inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was his mental stability or his patience, but he lost his shit in a blink of an eye. “Now you think I’m a liar?”
“I can’t be near you like this.” She held up her hands and made to walk around him.
He gave a harsh laugh. “That makes a great change from the disappearing act you’ve been playing for a week now.”
“I was giving you space,” she grated. “You didn’t want my help with this charade, remember? You kept shoving me away.”
“Because I didn’t want you seeing me with another woman.” Jesus, how could she not see that? After all this time, how could she have misinterpreted his intentions? “My life has been circling the god damn drain, but all I’ve needed is you. I had to get through it on my own.”
Her jaw ticked, his unmistakable Wonder Woman preparing for battle. “And if I had been there, I would’ve kicked your ass for all the shit you’re pulling.”
“And what shit is that?”
“You’re always late to rehearsals. The guys say you’re drinking all the time. You almost had a god damn three-way on the stage last night, and now this.” Her voice cracked and her responding wince hit him in the chest. “Everything is escalating. Soon you’ll go too far. Further than anyone can drag you back from.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled his frustration into check and softened his voice. “I’ve been late two or three times and it’s always because of my lawyer. Julie has stalled negotiations and wants me back in New York for a face-to-face meeting. I’m doing my best to ignore her and let my legal team handle it.”
“Why?” Concern furrowed her brow. “What does she want?”
Apart from his soul? “I don’t know, and I don’t give a damn.” He grabbed the railing and gazed down. “And yes, I’ve been drinking more than usual.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, those gorgeous depths placing an invisible hold on him. “But life ain’t fun at the moment and I’m coping the best I can on my own.”
She gave a derisive laugh. “The live ménage is a coping mechanism?”
Was she jealous? He scrutinized her, her cheeks turning pink under his stare. “Don’t tell me you bought that crap. You were there when we set up the charade. You know being around Flick is all for show.”
“I did. But you’re awfully convincing.” Her vulnerability lashed out at him. “And then you scored another lover who was never in the plan.”
“I have nothing but friendship for both of them.”
She scoffed and broke eye contact, focusing on the landing below. The silence stretched out, the awkwardness increasing with every second. Being with her would solve all his problems. Well, not solve them, but make them nonexistent. Nothing else would matter if he was finally with her. Nothing could drag him down.
But this place where he was—the spot between love and nothingness—was toxic.
“Leah?” He chanced another step, and reminiscent of the time when he’d backed her into a wall months ago, she retreated, maintaining the space between them. History was repeating itself, and this time he didn’t have the luxury of intoxication to excuse what could be a huge mistake.
“I’m going to do something crazy…” He took another step, the nearness making her eyes widen.
“What?” Her voice was panicked.
“I’m going to tell you there’s only one person I’m interested in. That there’s only ever been one person capable of making me happy.” He removed the last foot of space between them, backing her against the cement wall. “And you know it’s you.”
Chapter Ten
Leah didn’t react. She didn’t think she could. Her mind was too lost in thought to consider action.
“Leah?”
His voice was soft, so sweet and coaxing. She remembered how hard it’d been to get over the last time they were poised to kiss. She remembered the pain of suppressing her energized affection and vivid fantasies.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I can’t talk about this.”
“If not now, when?”
He reached out a hand and she whimpered as his finger stroked her cheek. That one touch changed her life, her outlook and her reluctance, forever marking her skin.
“I was going to have this conversation once the tour ended,” he admitted. “But that’s too far away. I can’t wait anymore. I don’t care about the divorce or the complications. I want to be with you.”
Her heart rallied, maintaining the arduous pace threatening to instigate a heart attack. He wanted her. And was prepared to take on anything that stood in his way. Yet, the world stood in their way. Their livelihood. The family they’d made within Reckless could be torn apart. At least, for her. She could be ripped from them.
“What about Felicity?”
“You’re concerned about my gay, fake girlfriend?”
“Gay?” She balked.
He gave a mischievous grin, leaning closer, filling her with something akin to hope.
“Yeah. Her and Hannah. Apparently, this charade wasn’t only about instigating hype. Grander doesn’t want them announcing their relationship and making Slicker famous for homosexuality instead of their music.”
She gave a slow nod, understanding, yet not entirely functioning because his body was pressed up against hers. All his places touching all of hers.
It wasn’t like Scott’s abhorrent behavior was a shock. The underhanded, manipulative schemes instigated by their label were more common than not. When it came to corporate greed, there were no limits.
“Talk to me.”
She swallowed. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say you’ll give us a chance, and that you’re confident we can find a way to make this work. I want you to tell me you’ll let me take what I’ve been dreaming about for nights on end. I want to hear you say you want this with the same conviction I’ve seen in your eyes for years.”
She sucked in a breath. “I want you…”
He opened his mouth to speak but she placed a finger over his lips, her heartache returning with vengeance.
“But trust that I’ve been thinking about this longer than you have. I’ve watched my employer fire numerous staff who became involved with clients.” Her shoulders sagged as she leaned further into the wall. “They won’t let me out of my contract either. Their commission for me working with you is too substantial to the company.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He pressed his hips into hers and she groaned with the warmth. The perfection. “Trust me.”
He leaned closer, their breath mingling, her heart latching onto his. She was a deer. A wild, brainless forest animal staring into the bright lights of an oncoming truck. Any minute now she’d be run through. Any damn minute.
“No.” She placed a hand on his chest. On his hard, whimper-inducing chest. “I can’t kiss you again.”
His eyes met hers
with gentle defiance. “Why?”
“Because there’s no future in it.”
“I disagree.” He leaned further into her, his lips descending. So close. Too close. “Tell me I’m right in assuming you want this. Tell me you’re not going to slap me this time.”
“You remember?” Her words were barely audible as he crept closer, breathing her in.
“I remember every horrific second. You may not believe me, but I’ve imagined kissing you for a damn long time. I never thought, if given the chance, that I would’ve ruined it.”
“You had a lot going on.” She latched onto his biceps, holding tight. “You still do.”
“Not enough to stop me doing this.”
The bristles of his beard hit her first, a rough sweep before the smoothest of lips were upon hers. All she could breathe was him, the deliriously mind-numbing aftershave she’d phantom-smelled for months.
A mass of uncontrollable tingles took over her body and the ripple of his muscles under her palms made her moan. She could feel him everywhere. His hips, chest, hair. But nothing could beat the buzz of sensation that ignited when his tongue parted her lips, the gentle stroke devastating her foundations.
He kissed like a man in love. Like a man who needed to prove a point.
Then all her senses pinpointed to her pelvis and the unmistakable grind of his erection. She gasped against his mouth, her lips no longer kissing, his kiss no longer coaxing.
“Too far?” he whispered.
Was it? She didn’t know. The only thing that made sense was sensation and the need for more.
“No.” They were barely brushing the surface. They had so much further to go. Thousands of dreams to fulfil. Millions of lonely nights to make up for. She wouldn’t be sated until this was body to body, skin to skin. “Not this time.”
She gripped his shirt, her eyes on his as she tugged him closer.
His groan was her undoing, the sound defining her, making her strong in a situation where she’d always been weak.
“Kiss me.”
He complied, this time without finesse or tenderness. This connection was harsh. Almost vicious in its hysteria. His hand found the hem of her blouse, his scorching fingers moving under the material to sear her belly. The trail of his palm was authoritative. His fingertips branding her with their abrasive grip, demanding ownership as they approached painfully hardening nipples. She’d always wondered what his touch would be like. Rough or smooth. Lustful or loving.
The strength in his hold dissolved her worries. The intensity of his mouth erased all concern. She was cocooned in a happiness bubble, each breath a double-dose of hunger. Nothing could tear her away from him. Nothing but the sound of creaking hinges overhead and the soft footfalls of someone approaching.
She broke the kiss and clung to his shirt.
“What is it?”
His words fanned her cheeks, his lips moving to her jaw, then her neck. His touch was still under her blouse, his exploration moving higher as her gaze caught hold of another pair of eyes peering down at her from the staircase above.
“Shit.” She shoved at him.
“Sorry,” Felicity called before backing out of view. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
There were rushed footsteps, another squeak of rusted hinges and then silence. Painful, arduous silence that slid panic into the place where passion had once been. The blood drained from her face, making her lightheaded as Ryan stared at her, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
“Don’t worry about Flick.”
“Don’t worry?” She straightened her blouse, unable to look him in the eye. “You trust my career with that woman?”
“I wouldn’t entrust your happiness with anyone. But I’ll speak to her.”
He reached out, and professional instinct had her backing away.
“I’ll tell her to keep quiet.” He straightened his shoulders, defensive. “Don’t you dare pull away from me now.”
“I’m not pulling away.” Not really. Her body was still all up in his business, palpitating, shaking, coursing with adrenaline. Her head, on the other hand, was in reverse, trying to steer through the hysteria of an oncoming tidal wave.
“You’re in panic mode. I’ve seen it before.” He reached out again, this time encapsulating her wrist in loose fingers. “About three months ago, to be exact.”
“Felicity found us together, of course I’m panicked.” She pleaded with her eyes, trying to convince him of the obvious danger even though her anxiety was much more complicated. “Please go after her.”
“I will. But then I’m coming after you.”
No.
No, no, no. She needed to regroup, to find her misplaced sanity, and most of all, tear Mason a new one for talking her into something so addictive and destructive. She should’ve had a plan before attempting this career-suicide mission. There was always a plan.
“What’s your room number?” His thumb rubbed back and forth against her skin, hypnotizing her into submission. Nothing compared to the lazy graze of his finger. She was being worshipped with the simplest of touches. He was reverence personified. “Your room number, Leah?”
“409.”
“409,” he repeated in a seductive drawl, making the three digits sound like an erotic password. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”
He smacked her with another kiss, then dropped the hold on her wrist and fled up the stairs, two at a time.
She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe until the door above opened and quickly slammed shut again. Damn it. Her limbs were tingling, her organs somersaulting. Her lady bits were salivating in the only way lady bits could.
“Idiot.” She pushed from the wall and hurried out of the stairwell. She was barefoot, disheveled, and probably pregnant from the efficiency of that kiss. The professional, always immaculate Leah was lost, rushing into the elevator and down the hotel hall like a lovesick fool until she was safely inside the sanctuary of her room.
Her laptop taunted her from the kitchenette counter, reminding her of her job and the video amassing views from last night’s show. Her slip couldn’t have come at a worse time. There was the divorce, the tour, the supposedly gay fake girlfriends… The list described a circus program.
Her circus. Her monkeys.
How could she have stooped so low?
She strode for the bathroom, wrenched on the sink taps, and drowned her face in water to wash away the insanity. She could still feel his lips, could still taste him. But she couldn’t let it linger. If it sank under her skin, buried itself in her veins, she wouldn’t be able to regain control. And control was what she needed.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She’d been caught in a position the world could never find out about. Caught by a threesome-loving lesbian who had her mitts all over Ryan on a daily basis.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Her cell beeped over the sound of the running water and she ignored it. Ignored everything the universe had to offer because an apocalypse was gaining strength in her mind. This time she couldn’t chalk the kiss up to unexpected psychosis. She’d gone to his room. She’d instigated the downfall.
Stupid. Stupid. Fucking stupid.
She shut off the water and dried her face on a towel, ignoring yet another message beep on her cell. Then it was her door, harsh knocks against the wood.
“Leah.”
She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled the growing tightness under her ribs. She couldn’t see him so soon. Her strength hadn’t returned yet. Nor her sanity. So she tiptoed to the door, placing her hand and her forehead against the thick barrier between them.
“It’s OK,” his voice was loud, deliberately taunting her fear of him making a scene. “I can wait.”
She peered through the peep hole and sucked in a breath at his carefree lean against the far wall of the hall. He was looking directly at her, his grin smug.
“How long do you think you’re going to make me wait?” His lips cu
rved higher. “Maybe I should get Mason to come keep me company.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she whispered. He was threatening her.
“I can hear you.” He placed a booted foot against the wall and crossed his arms to look lazily down the hall. “I’m sure all the guys will come searching for me when I don’t arrive at sound check. Then we could talk this through as a group.”
Gorgeous bastard.
She sighed and opened the door a crack. “Did you speak to her?”
“I went back to my room, told her not to repeat what she walked in on, and then came straight down here.”
“Ryan—” she nudged the door wider, “—you need to tell her why. This is important.”
“I know it is, and I’ll fill her in later. Right now, you’re my main concern.” He pushed from the wall.
“I shouldn’t be.” She shook her head. “Nothing happened.” Her voice was frantic as she tried to erase the past. It was a mistake. She needed to keep reminding herself, otherwise her future was going to slide down the drain like boiling grease. And the way he looked at her. Gah! Those eyes. Those penetrating, soulful eyes.
“Bullshit.” He approached, his authority growing before her. His confidence far more prevalent than she was used to. “Everything happened. Every god damn thing that should’ve been happening for years.”
She swallowed, otherwise she would’ve whimpered, or mewled, or done some other pathetically weak thing to undermine her future as band manager. “Don’t be like this.”
“Like what?” He placed his hand against the door, his gaze gliding from her face, to her heating neck, and then back to her lips. He’d never looked at her like that before. Not like she was a woman and he was a man. It was always a friendly appreciation. A glance filled with love and kindness but amiable nonetheless. “Like a guy who’s finally sick of being a spineless asshole all for the sake of a wife who never loved him. This is me, Leah. This is me demanding what I’ve wanted for too long.”
Silence.
She had no words. She could barely breathe.