Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat #4) (17 page)

“Nice pictures.” The living room wall resembled his entry hallway. Images on display like a time capsule. Red as a child. Others when she was older. Some with what looked like family and more with friends or maybe dancing groups.

“Ignore those. I’ve been meaning to take them down.” Her surly tone and lack of snickering made him glance over his shoulder. “Do you want a shower?”

He studied her for a moment, noticing the way her gaze never held his for long. She was nervous. Out of her comfort zone. “Do you want company?”

He didn’t mean to push for something that would exacerbate her body issues…well, OK, he couldn’t
help
pushing. Just a little. One day soon, she’d have to trust him. He didn’t care what she looked like under her clothes. Her beauty was already ingrained in his mind. Nothing could wash that away.

“I have two bathrooms, Sean.” She turned on her heel and padded down the hall. “I’ll get you a towel.”

He watched, unmoving from his position in front of the picture frames as she retrieved a towel from the hallway closet and then planted her feet to hold it out for him. She didn’t bridge the distance. She wanted him away from her past. Or away from her life in general.

“Thanks,” he grated and marched toward her. As far as looks went, her current glower could deflate the most determined hard on.

“The bathroom is on your left. I won’t be long.” She strode away, her head held high and one gigantic pole stuck up her ass.

He didn’t get it. She was fucking brilliant. Her dancing skills were unlike anything he’d ever seen. She was strong minded, capable, and independent. Then again, maybe it didn’t have anything to do with dance, and everything to do with him. He couldn’t work it out. There had to be something else. Something more than a minor accident that hadn’t even affected her ability to perform.

Problem was, he couldn’t broach the subject because he wasn’t meant to know about it in the first place.

Melody turned off
the shower and went in search of her towel in the darkness. Having the lights off soothed her, calming her heartache. Sean was getting too close, making her fall too hard. She’d grown attached to the happiness she felt around him and began to lose sight of the reality of her situation.

She wished she could storm up to him and get the painful revealing of her scars over and done with, but it wasn’t as simple as ripping off a Band-Aid. His reaction would change everything. No matter how hard she tried, it would be impossible not to scrutinize every word he said or each glance he made her way from that point onward.

Sean was a gorgeous, accomplished man who deserved a gorgeous, accomplished woman. And despite her wanting to be that woman, she didn’t have the ability anymore. The thrill of the charade was wearing off and the strength to ignore the constant ache in her thigh was becoming harder to maintain. Over the last year, her pain threshold had increased. There was no way it couldn’t when the severed nerves in her leg were on an endless mission to reattach themselves to something that wasn’t there.

Sean helped distract her, keeping her mind occupied and her heart in a continuous flutter. But now he pushed boundaries and wanted to spend time in the house with too many hurtful memories that made the awareness of her leg become more potent.

She toweled herself off, dressed in a silk camisole and long pajama pants, and left the bathroom without meeting her reflection in the mirror. Her bedroom was quiet, and the water from Sean’s shower was no longer running. The thought of greeting him again sent her pulse rocketing. She hadn’t missed the admiration in his eyes when he focused on the pictures on her wall. They were all lies. All pictures from the past of another woman. One who’d died the day of the accident.

“Sean?” She left her room and her heart sank to the soles of her feet as she rushed down the hall.

He was back there, at the wall of distant memories with only a towel covering his naked body as he scrutinized her past. He turned, taking her in with those breathtaking blue eyes that held a hint of pride.
Christ.
She was going to lose it—the hold on the charade, the grip on her hidden depression. She was sick of hiding, sick to death of pretending, yet seeing his respect turn to pity, or worse, revulsion, would cripple her.

“Can you stop looking at those?” She continued forward, each step empowering her frustration to claim another piece of her soul. Anger consumed her—anger at the world, at her life, at herself. The hatred never eased. Sean only helped to divert her thoughts temporarily.

“Why?” He frowned and turned his attention back to the photo frames. “You look gorgeous.”

God, she hated that. The assumptions drove her crazy. If her scars were merely emotional, maybe she could bluff her way through a relationship with this man. Sooner or later, he would find what she was hiding. Sooner or later, the fun would end.

“The guy looks like a bit of a jackass.” Sean pointed to a picture of her and Simon striking a pose after one of their earlier tours. “You’re phenomenal, though.
Jesus
, look at how toned your body is.”

“I said
don’t
.” Her brain pounded, and the ache in her leg increased from stress. Her injury reacted with her emotions, nudging its way into every part of her life. She squeezed between Sean’s bare chest and the wall and shoved at his muscled stomach. “Maybe you should leave.”

He straightened, peering down at her in confusion that slowly morphed into annoyance. “Like fuck I am.”

His gaze scrutinized her, brushing past secrets she needed to keep hidden. She had to calm down. Not just for his sake, but hers, too. She still wasn’t used to her new life. She’d been reborn from a confident, in-your-face diva, to a frail and pathetic excuse of a woman. It wasn’t an easy transition.

“Sean, I’m tired and I’m not in the mood anymore.” She stared at the ground and ran a hand through her hair. For the first time, the thought of speaking to a psychologist seemed necessary. Speaking to
anyone
would be beneficial. Anyone but Sean. Her head was a mess, and she couldn’t control the negative thoughts. How could she when she’d lost the body she’d based her career on and the lifestyle she’d loved? “Let’s—”

“Go to bed,” he growled. “Great idea.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her alone to bask in sorrow. She was caught between wanting something she couldn’t have, and having something she couldn’t want. The more time they spent together, the more she ached for it to continue. It was the height of cruelty, slowly pulling her toward a temptation she had to resist.

The fight left her system. She hit the lights and followed after him. When she reached her room, he lay nestled between the sheets of her bed, resting on his side with a soft frown on his face.

“You aren’t going to be hot in those?” He indicated her pajama pants with a jerk of his head.

“No. I prefer to stay warm, even in summer.” It was a lie. Another one to add to the long list.

She flicked off the bedroom light and shuffled toward him. Her room wasn’t as dark as his. The streetlights seeped in around the curtains, and her alarm clock was brighter, too. She could see him in all his shadowed glory as she climbed into bed and scooted down the mattress so they were face to face. His gaze enveloped her, touching every one of her frazzled nerves with the comfort in his eyes. The potency of his affection destroyed her. She had to roll over to her other side to break the connection.

This thing between them, the building lust and growing temptation, couldn’t work. No matter how much she wanted it to. It was too soon. The doctors told her the severity of her injury would fade over time. The bright red exposed flesh would dull to a softer shade, becoming less horrific. Maybe then her confidence would be different. Right now, revealing her true self was too confronting.

“Maybe I should’ve left my clothes on,” he muttered. “That cold shoulder you’re giving me is freezing my balls.”

Even through her melancholy, a grin pulled at her lips. “I told you, I wasn’t in the mood.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to sleep so far away from me.”

Yeah, it did. If he touched her, she’d cave. There wasn’t a way she could resist him. “I’m good where I am.”

His growl sent a shiver rocketing down her spine.

“Well, I’m not.” He scooted across the mattress, his warmth enveloping her as he spooned into her back.

He felt perfect. There was no fevered attraction. No cloying lust…well, OK, that was another lie, but above all the sexual attraction, her chest was filled was something less tangible. Something she hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing before.

She was at home in his arms.

The sweet smell of soap on his skin, the hardness of his body. She ached to run her hands over his nakedness. To learn him by touch and taste. She knew her desire was born from the need to feel worthy again. His interest filled a part of her soul she’d thought she’d lost in the accident.

She sighed, trying to relieve the pressure building in her chest.

“Can’t get comfortable?”

“Not when parts of your anatomy are shoveling into my ass.”

He chuckled, the softness of his breath brushing the back of her neck. “I thought it would’ve felt at home after that stick you’ve had up there for the last half hour.”

She winced into the darkness and relaxed against him. “I’m sorry.” She had to give him credit for hanging around. She’d been a grade-A bitch, and he had no clue why.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Melody closed her eyes, wishing it was possible. “You rattle me.” Finally, the truth. He rocked her already unsteady foundations and pushed her toward a place she wished she was ready for. “I’m not used to being out of my comfort zone.” She turned in his arms, and blinked up at him in the barely visible light.

“Why? You don’t seem like a woman who’s easily rattled.” The sincerity in his tone spoke volumes as his chest thumped against hers.

“I don’t know. I guess you’re different from the men I’ve been with.” She was different now, too. Whatever this thing between them was—merely sex, or the prelude to something bigger—it was all new to her. New to the fragile Melody who was merely playing the role of a stronger woman.

“I’ve never been with anyone like you either.”

“You mean mentally unhinged?” She added laughter to her tone to mask the truth.

“Oh, no.” He chuckled. “I’ve been with a lot of women like that. You just make me want different things.”

“Like?”

He kissed her gently, the briefest brush of his lips against hers. It was barely a kiss at all, yet it slammed right through her.

“You make me want slow and sweet.” He kissed her nose, her cheek, then settled his lips against hers. “You make me want things I’ve never experienced with any other woman, Red.”

His tongue ran along the seam of her mouth, coaxing her lips apart. As she matched the slow glide of his tongue, she cupped his cheek with her palm, rubbing her thumb along the harshness of his stubble. She sailed along an alternate plane, one she wasn’t familiar with, yet somewhere she never wanted to leave.

“Come to dinner at my place on Saturday,” he whispered against her lips. “Otherwise, I’ll end up on your doorstep, and you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

She smiled and sank deeper into the warmth of his arms. “OK.”

“OK you’ll come, or OK you want me on your doorstep?”

“I’ll come to dinner.” It was a mistake. She needed to stop playing this game. But how could she when being with him was a balm over her fractured confidence? She wanted him. More than she’d wanted anything in a long time. He filled her with excitement. Nerves, too. The most delicious feelings she wasn’t willing to let go of just yet.

He nudged his erection against her belly, grinding in a gentle friction that made heat burn in her sex. She shouldn’t be encouraging this, yet every kiss convinced her she could continue the charade. Just a little longer, a few more kisses, a few more days. Whatever it took to remain immersed in the goodness he surrounded her in.

His palm ran under her camisole, scorching a trail over her waist to the side of her breast. She clenched her thighs together and lowered her hand to his shoulder, holding on for dear life because he made her feel like she was falling.

“I want you,” he murmured. “I want you unlike anything I’ve ever wanted before.”

She kissed him harder, hoping the pressure could miraculously change this dream into reality.

“I want you, too.”

He grabbed the waistband of her pajama pants and tugged them down her thighs. She shuffled, ignoring the dull throb of pain from her scar as she helped lower the material.

“You didn’t wear panties.” He left her pajamas hovering at her calves and ran a hand over her abdomen, straight to her pussy.

She sucked in a breath and kicked the material from her legs while his fingers slowly slid between her folds. He knew exactly where to touch. In the one spot that would’ve made her knees buckle if she’d been standing.

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. “You’re always wet. Always ready. It drives me fucking crazy.”

If only she was immune to him. Life would be easier if she wasn’t smitten. She rolled onto her other side, giving him her back while she retrieved a condom from her top drawer. He didn’t stop seducing her while her focus was elsewhere. He nibbled her earlobe, rested his hand on her waist, and then kissed the sensitive curve where her neck met her shoulder.

His affection grew, softly, sweetly, building the ache in her chest under gentle brushes of his lips and delicate strokes of his fingers. Unlike their previous times together, he wasn’t trying to fuck her. He wasn’t teasing. He was passionate, caring, making her feel like this was closer to love than lust.

“I can’t get you out of my head.”

She ignored him and ground her ass into his erection as she handed the condom over her shoulder. He made quick work of sheathing himself, before he nudged his pelvis against her ass and rested the head of his shaft at her entrance.

He adored her, leisurely and attentive. His usual dominance gone, replaced with a need less potent and ten times more thrilling. There was no scratching or clawing. She learned his body inch by inch, with her mouth as well as her hands.