Savage Rhythm (2 page)

“Is this
your
dock?” she asked him.

“What?”

“You told him to get the fuck off your dock. It’s yours?”

Declan’s hand had migrated from her arm to her lower back while he scared off the frat boy and he hadn’t moved it, not even as she turned to him so that it rested on her hip. Now his eyes met hers and it became very, very clear to her that he wasn’t going to move it, unless maybe she asked. Molly considered herself a strong woman, but not quite strong enough to do that. Not just yet. In a minute, maybe.

“It’s mine while I’m on it,” Declan said.

Molly licked her lips and rallied. This was stupid. Silly. “Like a territorial thing?” she asked, one incredulous eyebrow raised.

A hint of a smile flickered at the corner of his full lips, the softness there offset by the scruff on his jaw.

“Yes,” he said.

He didn’t seem to think he needed to say anything else.

Molly swallowed. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t thought he would just straight up own the caveman thing. Did this mean she was in his territory? Part of his territory?

The idea both turned her on and infuriated her.

Declan studied her face and smiled. He was amused. “You’re mad I took care of that guy,” he said. A statement, not a question.

“No,” she said, maybe too quickly. “Maybe. It’s just that I could have taken care of him myself. I’m not helpless.”

“No one said you were.”

“No, you only acted like it.”

What the hell was she
doing
? Picking a fight with Declan Donovan? It was like the childish, try-hard version of trying to impress him. She knew she had a valid point, but that wasn’t all she was reacting to. She was reacting to Declan himself. To how overwhelmed she felt just standing next to him. Like she had to fight for every breath, every thought that was not about him.

What would happen when she was stuck on a tour bus with him twenty four hours a day?

Oh God.

He was still looking at her. Calm. His hand hot and heavy on her hip. Jesus. She had to draw a line, here and now, before she lost control of the whole project.

“Your hand—” she started.

His voice cut through the air, sharp and strong.

“Tell me your name.”

Without even thinking, she told him. “Molly Ward.”

She blinked. She’d just…obeyed. The look on his face said he’d noticed. His thumb pressed into her hip bone a little bit more.

“The writer,” he said, almost to himself, his voice a low, satisfied hum. “Ain’t that lucky.”

Whoa. Danger, Will Robinson.
Molly shook her head and stepped back to get free of his molten touch, and immediately felt more in control. Jesus, but the man was lethal.

She forced herself to look him in the eye and said, “You need to keep your hands off of me.”

chapter
2

Declan removed his hand, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Molly Ward. He missed contact with her already. He hadn’t even thought about it, just put his hand on her, like it was normal. It took both of them too long to realize it wasn’t.

This was something.

“As you wish,” he said.

Molly looked at him sideways and then rewarded him with a sly smile. “Don’t
Princess Bride
me, Declan Donovan,” she said. “I have a feeling you only obey orders when it amuses you.”

And where had this woman come from?

“You would be correct,” he said, grinning. “What clued you in?”

“This
is
a Club Volare event, right?”

Declan let his eyes drift south momentarily to the straining buttons on the front of Molly’s shirt. No button should be put through that. Come to think of it, no man should be put in close proximity to a woman like this if she was going to be off limits. Especially not on a tour bus. For eight weeks. His balls ached just thinking about it. She was dressed up in a way he could tell wasn’t natural for her, just by the way she held herself, and yet
damn.
Those curves. Those brown eyes. That dirty blonde hair, starting to wisp out of that bun and play around her face.

Fuck me
.

He said, “You should know, that won’t be the last time I touch you.”

Declan believed in honesty. There was no shortage of women willing to throw themselves on his dick, but this one seemed determined to avoid his touch like the plague, even though it visibly turned her on. Nipples didn’t lie, not when they were tight and poking through her cheap shirt, and neither did her dilated pupils or her flushed skin, and if she cared to look down she’d have seen how freaking hard he was already. There was just no explaining physical chemistry, and between the two of them it was potent. All the physical indicators he’d trained himself to recognize as a Dom screamed, “Do me now!”

And yet she was telling him no.

He’d always liked a challenge.

Molly stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“That won’t be the last time I touch you,” he said again. “Only next time, you’ll beg me to.”

Her eyes hardened.

“Are you going to pee on me next?” she said. “Mark your territory a little more?”

She could cut a lesser man down with that tone, that wit. Declan only grinned.

“I’m not into that, so no,” he said.

“I meant I’m not your damn property,” she said, a flush starting on her cheeks again. “I’m not some fucking groupie who will do whatever you want.”

Declan tensed. That word hit him hard:
groupie
. There was no way this little writer knew about it. He’d only told Adra, outside of the band, and he knew Adra wouldn’t screw him like that, even if she did think that Declan should come clean about what had happened in Philadelphia. No way in hell that was happening. He wasn’t going to do that to Bethany, “groupie” or no. Let the world think he was a violent drunk; it didn’t fucking matter. Especially not to Soren.

Damn it. That whole situation was still… He’d rather think about the woman in front of him.

“Good,” he said eventually. “Groupies write bad books.”

Molly Ward paused. She seemed conflicted. She looked like she wanted to fight him, but she also couldn’t stop biting on her lower lip. It was distracting as fuck. He loved that she was giving him shit, that it seemed her natural state was to be a ball buster, even while she’d automatically given him her name when he’d demanded it. The combination was damn sexy. And damn suggestive.

He wondered how well she’d respond to other commands.

“What are you doing here?” he asked suddenly. He’d thought they weren’t due to meet until the tour. He’d also thought the writer would be someone boring, not someone so evidently fuckable. “Did Adra tell you to come here?”

“No,” she said.

Then she lowered her eyes. There was something she wasn’t telling. It tweaked his Dom sense.

“Answer the question,” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t order me around.”

Declan crossed his arms, though he was hiding a smile. This woman. Already, this woman. He couldn’t trust any of the women in his life to tell him to go to hell if he deserved it, except the women at Volare—and now this one. He hadn’t had a submissive in a fucking age because his fame tended to warp a woman’s perception of what she was actually comfortable with, and that made BDSM dangerous. He was aching to dominate a worthy sub. Felt it throb in every freaking nerve, every last capillary, every waking thought.

And now Molly Ward had showed up, beautifully responsive when he gave her an order, even if she didn’t want to admit it. A woman with natural submissive tendencies who vied for control. Fun.

 She was trouble, no doubt, but fuck it.

“You’d love it,” he said softly.

Molly Ward blushed right up to the tips of her adorable little ears. Declan laughed.

“I’m here because I thought it would be a good idea to meet you before the tour,” she said hotly. “Get acquainted? Since we have this book to write.”

“You wanted to ambush me,” he countered. “You want me off balance for your interviews.”

Her mouth dropped open.

What he could do with that. Jesus.

“How did you…” Molly seemed to forget herself for a minute, just a minute, and the hint of her vulnerability pulled him in even further.

“I’m good with people,” he said. “And you’re not the first writer to get clever. So don’t bother lying to me, it’ll just piss both of us off. You feel like you have something to prove, coming here dressed like that, trying to surprise me at a private, personal event?”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” she whispered.

Things seemed to have gotten quieter between them, more still. The party was still going on behind him, and Declan knew it was loud as hell on the dock, but somehow he wasn’t focused on anything but Molly Ward. Focused so much that he could hear her whisper into the freaking wind.

“But I’m right,” he said.

She was staring right back at him. Goddamn.

“So what if you are?” she said finally. “You’re obviously kind of blunt, right? You like it when people are direct?”

Fuck me
. Direct. Yeah. He resisted the urge to hook his fingers into the front of her tight little skirt, pull her close, and kiss her hard.

“What do you think?” he said.

“Ok, well, here it is direct,” Molly said, standing a little straighter, refusing to let her eyes waver. “You don’t get to have me, Declan Donovan. That’s not what’s going to happen. What’s going to happen is that I’m going to get to the bottom of what happened between you and Soren Andersson in Philadelphia, and you’re going to let me, because you’re going to trust me. Because you’re going to respect me. And then I’m going to write the best goddamn book you’ve ever read. And at the end of it—”

“You’re going to let me fuck you senseless,” he said.

Molly’s eyes went wide. He’d shocked the words right out of her mouth. Christ, if that was all it took, he couldn’t imagine…

“You’re going to thank me,” she said. She was a little breathless, still looking at him with those big, open eyes. “I don’t know where you get off—”

“Quiet,” he said.

She shut up.

She almost seemed surprised by her own reaction. But Declan felt his cock twitch, like the damn thing knew a sub was nearby. He was sure of it. Well, then he’d give her what she needed. Clear, concise commands.

“Give me your phone,” he said.

Molly only hesitated a moment. She was staring at him like she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on, but she very much wanted to. Then she narrowed her eyes and wordlessly dug into her oversized purse by feel, never taking those challenging, inquisitive eyes off of him, and came up with her phone.

Declan took it from her without explanation and dialed his own personal cell phone number, since he’d left his phone in his jacket. He waited until it went to voicemail, then saved the number under “Declan.”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He gave her the phone back, and winked. “Making sure you know when to pick up.”

Declan was all ready to parry another outraged barb from Molly Ward—was looking forward to it, in fact—when real life got in the way. If Savage Heart could be considered real life, anyway.

“Declan!”

It was Adra’s voice, getting closer. But Declan just did not want to stop looking at Molly. That combination of confusion and curiosity was almost as attractive as the defiance and submission combo she had going on earlier.

Almost.

“What’s up, Adra?” he said without turning around. Let Molly know what he was looking at. He could tell she liked it. In fact, the woman was looking right back.

“Eric’s called you so many times he started calling me,” Adra said, catching up. He felt Volare’s resident agent look at him, then look at Molly, and back to him. “There’s obviously something you need to deal with. I think he’s freaking out.”

Damn. Eric was an old friend, an amazing guitarist who’d given up on the rock dream and had cut a decent living as a studio musician instead, and he had been perfectly happy with that up until Declan told him Savage Heart needed a new guitarist freaking yesterday. Eric had saddled up and saved the tour, which had been a godsend. He knew all of Savage Heart’s songs, and had known the band forever, but now the pressure was getting to him. Savage Heart had their first show since Philadelphia that night—a surprise appearance at the brand new public part of the Volare club in Venice Beach, just to test some stuff out before they hit the road. No one knew how the fans were going to react, but they were probably going to give Eric some shit just because he wasn’t Soren.

So Eric was panicking.

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Declan said. He gave Molly one long, last, lingering look. “See you soon, Molly Ward.”

Just his luck the one woman who’d set off his Dom sense in months without being weird about his fame was the one woman determined to keep it professional. And the one person who seemed to think she could get him to talk about Philadelphia. Declan wasn’t worried about getting her into bed—fighting attraction like that was like fighting a force of nature. She’d lose, and he’d teach her the things she craved. It was inevitable.

So why did he get the feeling Molly Ward thought it was just as inevitable that she’d get him to talk?

chapter
3

Molly had triple checked everything around the house, making sure it was ready for her friend Shauna, who would be housesitting. Molly hadn’t felt comfortable leaving it empty for eight weeks, and she couldn’t stop worrying. She told herself that it was because Robbie and his boys still loved to fuck with her on occasion, and an empty, unguarded trailer would probably be too tempting, but really it was her own tendency to stress. Shauna had been too willing to step in, needing a break from her own situation. Besides, Molly needed someone to deliver the rent for her, in cash.

Yeah, not sketchy at all. She couldn’t wait to get out of Pleasant Valley Park. There was just nothing pleasant about it.