Finding Her Rhythm (Backstage Pass Series) (5 page)

He laughed, and the move completely transformed his dark, handsome looks into something resembling a warrior
angel, the contrast between light and sin so tangible it took her breath away.

This was how he responded to the kids and his brother. Only she seemed to be the recipient of his somber brooding.

With a shrug, he brushed over his competitiveness, but the grin still tugged at those sculpted lips. “Where did the idea come from?”

Wow. He was
acting almost human. “My parents,” she said, loosening up as she remembered those happy times spent around their kitchen table. “We did it all through my teens, usually on Sundays. I even came home for it after I left for college.”

“
Still?”

Her gaze shifted into the distance when he turned those intense eyes her way.
“No. My parents have been gone for over two years now.”

“
I’m sorry,” he murmured, so low she almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of the waterfall feeding into the nearby corner of the pool. For long moments neither of them spoke, but for once she didn’t feel the need to rush in and fill the silence. When she did that, she always ended up regretting it.

After about a hundred ripples brushed the edge of the pool, Michael said,
“My mother died when the kids were little.”

Taylor knew from experience that condolences were often empty, making the loneliness worse. She glanced
toward him but didn’t dare look into his eyes, instead focusing on the contrast of the blue and white print on his swim trunks. “What was she like?”

“
Strong. Independent. Single all her life. She dated, but wasn’t willing to let a man move in and take over what she saw as her domain.” He grinned again, pulling her gaze upward. “Daniel and I tested her something fierce, but somehow she was always one step ahead, maneuvering around us, laughing at our surprised expressions when she caught us red-handed.”

“
That is a strong woman—to handle two rowdy boys with ease and a sense of humor.”

“
She was, right up to the end.” He shifted on the smooth tile. “Now Daniel and the kids are my only family.”

She knew exactly how that felt, except her only family didn’t even remember she existed.
Time to think of something else.
He was probably only talking to be nice, but the conversation kept her focused on something other than his body.

“
It must be nice, being in the same band, getting to spend so much time with your brother.” She snuck a quick peek toward his face, which had lost that illuminating smile.

“
Sometimes it’s a helluva lot of fun. Sometimes I feel like I do nothing but herd cats all day.”

A giggle
burst out. “That’s not how I envisioned life in a band.”

The somber look wasn’t directed at her this
time, but it was there nonetheless. “A lot of people assume a lot of things. Very rarely is any of it true.” Finally the grin reappeared and he cut his eyes down at her, leaving her floating with emotions she couldn’t identify. “Then again those rare moments are something else.”

“
Are they worth it?”

His eyes slid closed, giving her the chance to study the almost peaceful expression that softened his strong features.
“Absolutely.”

“
It must be incredible, being able to live your passion like that.” She was jealous. She loved kids, had thought she was meant to be a teacher, but Bradley had taken that from her too.

For now.

Michael’s deepened voice cut through her thoughts. “Passion is made for living. Otherwise it dies.”

Chapter Five

You’ll never be free of me. No one will ever want you like I do.

Taylor shifted on the cool cotton sheets of her bed, eager to escape the voice of her tormentor.

We’re perfect together, Taylor. I command and you obey.

This wasn’t what she wanted, but the voice refused to go away.

I’ll tie you to me forever, whether you want it or not.

“
No.” Taylor jerked awake, finally able to shake sleep enough to stop the nightmare.

Bradley had tormented her for so long, she should be used to his voice replaying over and over in her head. Somehow his abuse had mixed with her own guilt for letting him gain so much control over her while she grieved for her pa
rents. In the aftermath, her brain spent her sleeping hours rehashing her mistakes.

Sometimes she could make it stop. Most nights, she couldn’t. Hearing from Stephen that Bradley had been nosing around made the voice that much louder.

Distraction had been the winning strategy so far. Lying in bed trying not to think about the past, her mistakes…that only made the dreams worse. Dragging herself out of bed, she drew a knee-length, thin robe over her tank top and sleep shorts. Luckily for her, the cook kept a particularly decadent brand of hot chocolate in the kitchen ever since she’d discovered it was one of Taylor’s weaknesses.

The evenly spaced night-
lights gave just enough illumination to the darkened halls for Taylor to make the trek without turning on the overheads. One o’clock in the morning wasn’t the ideal time for waking the kids—or her employer.

Heat burned her cheeks and along her neck as she promised herself she would never awaken her employer again—even if the house was burning down.

He was on his own.

She piddled around in the kitchen, letting her mind get caught up in the tiny details of heating milk, mixing, stirring, and sipping. All her muscles relaxed with the first hot, dark taste.

The cool air conditioning and rain that still came down outside allowed her to imagine it was fall, her favorite season. She could close her eyes and pretend the last year never happened. That Bradley hadn’t started stalking her, hadn’t threatened her in any way. But then she’d have to pretend she hadn’t had him removed from her apartment by police officers, and that was the best decision she’d ever made.

A little too late, but still the best.

Then she’d landed herself in a situation where she totally lusted after her boss, a man who went out of his way not to touch her. Not even a casual brush of the fingers when passing the salt. Who frowned at her more often than not, at least until this afternoon in the pool. And who probably found her curves repugnant after years of feasting on Barbie dolls morning, noon, and night.

Wow. She felt so much better.

Maybe she’d watch television for a while, drift off to a movie instead of a litany of memories and regrets. But as she followed the hallway along the back curve of the house toward the space affectionately named the “family room”—where everyone gravitated to hang out—she heard a few haunting notes, so faint she wondered if they were manifestations of tonight’s overactive imagination. The closer she came to her destination, the louder the sound.

Though she knew she shouldn’t, her feet still carried her through
the doorway and onto the second-story balcony that overlooked the firelit family room below. This side of the house was built on a slight hill, so the room was one level down from the main floor. The fireplace crackled with a small fire, just enough to take the rainy chill from the air. The rest of the room remained in darkness, almost tranquilized with the simple sound of an acoustic guitar.

Hauntingly beautiful, the music built on her melancholy mood, reawakening the ache to hold someone close. As she approached the entryway, a voice joined the melody.

Instinctively she knew it was Michael, but he sounded different than the times she’d heard him on the radio. Even in his brother’s background, his voice had a distinct hard edge.

To
night sadness penetrated the words, giving her a glimpse of the man beneath the stone. He sounded less in control and more, well, exposed.

Like a breath of fresh cool air

The taste of you on my tongue

Just the scent of sun in your hair

Tells me I’m no longer alone

My arms wouldn’t be empty

My heart would be full

I’d take you down with me

Love you every way that I could

The longer she stood there, the more Taylor felt like she was witnessing a side of hi
m Michael rarely showed anyone. The same side she’d glimpsed in the pictures of him holding his children—vulnerable, full of fear, ready to love, aching with need.

Something that drew her, even when she knew she shouldn’t
watch.

She took a step back, determined not to intrude, only to catch the sharp edge of
a side table. The rattle of photo frames was just loud enough to be heard over the rain, but Taylor held her breath, praying the noise hadn’t traveled to the room below.

“
McKayla? Honey, is that you?”

Without the stretch of the music as a guide, Michael’s voice sounded strained, tight. Taylor found she couldn’t leave him alone when she knew exactly how the loneliness could close your throat and make it hard to breathe. Even if she was asking for him to reject her again.

With a shaky breath, she stepped from the shadows. “No, Michael. It’s me.”

He sat at the far end of the room, shrouded in darkness
, with only the low-burning fireplace to illuminate the closest edge of his body and gleam off the guitar that rested in his lap.

“
Taylor? What are you doing up so late?”

The remembered fear, the looming presence of Bradley’s continued pursuit froze her for a millisecond, but she forced herself to descend the steps into the room.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She lifted the mug in her hand, though she wasn’t sure if he would see it. “Thought some hot chocolate would help.”

As she moved closer, she could make out the faint grin that pulled at his lips. He waved toward the fire.
“We’re both seeking warmth tonight.”

Unsure of her welcome,
she slipped forward in the darkness and ease down onto the sofa a few feet away.

“
I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she said, her voice hushed in deference to both the late hour and the air of solitude that permeated the room. “I didn’t mean to—”

“
Don’t.” He leaned back in the chair, farther into the shadows where she could only make out the reflection of the fire in his eyes. He cradled the guitar like a child, his long fingers absently tracing its bottom edge.

Long, silent moments crept by, and Taylor’s heart thudded uncomfortably loud in her ears. But still she couldn’t dredge up the will to walk away. The movement of his fingers mesmerized her, lulling her into the intimacy found in the shadows.

Finally the words slid from her, without thought or volition. “If you’re lonely, why do you leave? Your family is here.”

His body stiffened
for a moment; then his words shot across the space between them with the accuracy of an arrow. “Honey, what I really need, my kids can’t give me.”

The burn that had simmered underneath her skin as she watched him flared out of proportion. A few deep breaths helped her bring it under control. She pulled the flimsy robe a little tig
hter around her curves, unconsciously protecting them from implied ridicule.

“
I understand, I really do—the need for intimacy.” She tried to speak matter-of-factly, without letting her own arousal seep into her words. “The need for someone close by, to hold on to in the dark of night.” She swallowed. Maybe that was going a bit too far with one’s boss.

“
But family, just knowing there’s someone nearby who loves you, appreciates you, can go a long way toward filling the void.” At least, she imagined it could, when the ache for her lost family grew too heavy for her to bear.

He jerked forward, snatching up the lone beer bottle that
rested on a low table before him. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. You’re so naive, what I want would probably have you running in fear.” He took a swig, his movements full of anger and rejection.

So she sank inside herself…away from the turbulence simmering beneath his surface. Away from revealing her own inadequacies and need. She stood on shaking limbs, her arms hugging her waist, and took painful steps back the way she’d come. Because she
had
been naive, and look where it’d gotten her. She’d just breached the outer ring of the fire’s soft glow when he spoke again.

“
The paparazzi have it all wrong.”

Frozen at the bottom of the stairs, she found herself asking,
“What?”

“
They have it all wrong, about my brother and me. I don’t have sex with a new woman every night. We didn’t hold orgies on the tour bus. And I didn’t need whips and chains to get my wife to have sex with me.”

Apparently she wasn’t listening to the right kind of gossip shows.

He stalked to her as he spoke again. “People want us to be edgy, raw. After all, we’re rock gods. But my needs are relatively simple.”

Without volition, she found herself backed up to the wall, her fingers flat against the wainscoting to give her some piece of reality to hold on
to. Though a part of her was still scared, a growing part of her felt the kindle of arousal.

He leaned in close, resting his forearm on the wall beside her head. The fire behind him obscured his face. Her pulse pounded
as she felt space narrow to the inches separating them. He surrounded her, and every muscle in her body wanted to surrender.

“
Does a fresh-faced middle-school teacher like you even know what bondage and domination means? Other than the academic definitions?”

Taylor thought she might have swallowed her tongue for a moment. Images flashed in her mind. Whips and chains, yes. But straps, blindfolds, and commands. Her core liquefied, but she struggled not to show it. Licking her lips, she asked,
“You mean like lots of leather and handcuffs?”

Instead of disgust, he surprised her by chuckling. A deep rumbling in his chest that she was close enough to feel.
Her nipples tingled as if he’d touched them.

Leaning in, his big body crowded her much smaller one. He whispered in her ear,
“Close, but not close enough.”

His fingers twined into her wavy hair, immobilizing her. His touch was sure.
Afraid, but for once trusting her body’s lead, she dove into the undertow of desire. He used the entanglement to his advantage, positioning her just where he wanted her.

“
Taylor,” he groaned. “I need…”

She
couldn’t deny him when he fused his mouth with hers. The earthy taste of beer mixed with his dark essence, drawing her under in a matter of seconds. As lips and tongue explored, she learned the true meaning of domination.

Michael held her open, available for his plunder, but everything he did set her aflame. Like he held the original roadmap for her sexual fulfillment. He didn’t force himself on her. Instead he teased her lips apart, nibbled their curve, stroked deep to
brush his tongue against hers. His hands in her hair tilted her head to the side, exposing the vulnerable skin of her neck. Her secret fuse to her own personal dynamite. Every lick, every suck set off shockwaves, and her pussy was ground zero.

Long moments later
one hand skimmed low over her back to grip her butt and squeeze, pulling her tight against the erection trapped between them.
He actually wants this.
She felt submerged in the sensations, her core wet and open, heat travelling from his marauding tongue to every erogenous zone in her body—until she could no longer smother the moans escaping her lips.

She held her position, hands against the wall,
aching to please him. If he wanted her to move, he’d show her. That knowledge kicked her need up another notch.
How many nights had she ached for this?
For a man who could command without torment, who could orchestrate her response until she couldn’t think, couldn’t worry—could only feel.

Finall
y he returned to her mouth, but stopped when their lips were barely brushing. Their breath mingled for long moments.

Then he whispered. “Show me, Taylor.”

Accepting his permission, she skimmed his lower lip with her teeth, testing the plump flesh, delivering a hint of pain. He grunted, grinding his hips even harder against her. Giving her his response. His body stiffened, small contractions showcasing his need.

She soothed the sting
with her tongue, then followed where his hands directed—across his hair-roughened jaw and down to the salty skin of his neck. She felt him swallow hard beneath her questing mouth. Then she sank her teeth lightly into the crook between his throat and shoulder.