Heart of the Music (Saints & Sinners #1) (3 page)

“What are you doing half-naked on my bed?” she asked him, wrapping her hands around herself, hoping it would somehow cover her body. She knew how ridiculous she was being, but the man was pure perfection, and, well, she had curves.

“I’m tired, you’re tired…. After all of these years, I know for a fact you sleep better when there’s someone in bed with you, sharing a bus with you has taught me a few things, so I’m volunteering.” He had his hands behind his head, leaning against the pillows, and she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Damn him and his stubborn attitude.

“Oh no, hell no! Jarrod, get up, get dressed, and go sleep in your room. I am not sleeping with you.” There was no way she could handle sleeping in the same bed as him.

He sat up on the bed and looked at her from head to toe. She felt his eyes on every inch of her skin, slowly setting her body on fire. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself. Trish, you need to sleep. I need to do the same. What’s the problem?”

“Where do you want me to start?” she said, moving to the side of the bed, feeling the body heat rolling off him in waves.

She was so tired that she considered not arguing with him anymore. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Five years of dealing with the man told her that once he had his mind set on something, there was no changing it.

“You know that no matter what you say, I’m not leaving this bed. So why don’t you quit thinking I’m going to take advantage of you, climb into bed, and get some sleep.” The hint of laughter in his voice made her weak in the knees. Silent and defeated, she climbed into bed and slipped under the covers. Before she could turn on her side away from him and put some much needed distance between the two of them, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her flush against him. With her head on his chest, she felt his heartbeat against her cheek. She fought hard to remember why staying away from him was for the best.

“Don’t try anything, Banks,” she whispered against his skin.

Chapter
Two

4 1/2 years ago

Patricia

Patricia woke up to the smell of coffee, and more importantly, she was fully rested. She didn’t know what time it was and, if she were being honest, she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so refreshed. She climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she washed all traces of makeup from her face and made her way to the kitchen.

When she walked in, she almost stopped breathing at the sight that greeted her. Jarrod was cooking breakfast wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, which were resting low on his hips. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the way the muscles in his back moved every time he reached for something. The man had a body that was made for a woman’s pleasure, she couldn’t deny that. As if he sensed her staring at him, he turned around and gave her a wink. When his eyes travelled down her body, she felt underdressed in nothing but his shirt, but now wasn’t the time to let her insecurities get the best of her.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he told her as he handed her a cup of coffee, her drug of choice. It was the one thing she couldn’t live without—okay, make that the second thing, if you considered Jarrod himself.

“Good morning. What time is it?” she asked before taking a sip of coffee, which, of course, was brewed to perfection.

“It’s a little past eleven. Okay, so we have: pancakes, bacon—and, yes, it’s turkey bacon, God help me—fresh fruit, and orange juice,” he said, putting everything on the breakfast counter on display in front of her.

She picked up a strawberry before turning to him. “Okay, I’m going to have breakfast here every day. I didn’t know you could cook.” There was nothing the man standing in front of her couldn’t do. It was unsettling to think that some other woman would get this treatment the next time they were home. That stung, even though she had no right to claim this privilege.

“My mom figured we could use some skills to impress women. So, impressed yet?” She knew he was teasing her, and she loved every second of it. She wasn’t about to tell him that anything he did impressed her, so she took a bite out of one of the pancakes and moaned softly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“These are so good,” she said blissfully, shoving another piece into her mouth. “Now that I know you can make these, I’m going to ask for these every morning.” The man could seriously cook; she would have to remember that and make use of it any chance she got.

“Anytime, babe, just ask.” Jarrod sole focus was on her, his gaze intense; it felt as if he was seeing right through her. She tore her eyes away from him because if he saw what she was hiding, if he caught a glimpse of her feelings for him, nothing would ever be the same, and that just couldn’t happen.

Present Day

Patricia

She woke up the next morning sprawled across a warm, toned body, her head on a solid chest with an arm around her waist and their legs intertwined. For a minute, she thought she was dreaming, and then the memories of the night before hit her. With one swift movement, she was off the bed. Frozen, she stood and watched him as he slept. How was this a good idea? The barriers around her heart crumbled as he stirred and his eyes opened, and that scared her to death. This was exactly what she had been avoiding for the past five years.

“Good morning.” Jarrod’s voice sent shivers racing through her body. Primal hunger darkened his eyes, and in that moment, she realized she was standing in front of one of the sexiest men in country music with tousled hair, no makeup, and wearing an old T-shirt, which didn’t hide much. She couldn’t help but think back to that morning years ago when he gave her the shirt. After a long night in the studio, she had fallen asleep on the sofa and he had tucked her into bed in his spare bedroom with one of his old tees. In the morning, she hadn’t been able to make herself give it back. Since then, every time she felt lonely or sad, she wore it.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever woken up with such a beautiful woman. I might get used to waking up with you, Miss Monroe.” She wanted to believe him, God, she wanted to believe him with everything she had, but images of him and the multiple women he’d dated over the years flashed in front of her eyes, reminding her that she was nothing like them.

She started laughing and she couldn’t get herself to stop. “Until a Victoria's Secret model comes along maybe.” She knew it was a low blow, but she needed some emotional distance from him. He threaten to tear down all of her resistance, and she knew if he succeeded, there would be no going back. The only thing that scared her more than taking this chance with him was the possibility of a broken heart she would never recover from.

“Glad to see you think so highly of me there, Trish.” The hurt on his face made her ache. Even if he had his share of women, supermodels or not, she knew he never cheated, never led women on, and she admired that about him. He might have been with a lot of women, but he always made sure they knew exactly what to expect going in, and not once did he ever make any of them feel cheap or small.

She climbed back into the bed and kissed him on the cheek, her body on autopilot. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She sat back, and was startled when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, her cheek touching his. There was something deeply intense about the way they held on to each other in that moment. She hadn’t expected this, but it felt too good and too right to fight him or pull away. Her lips brushed his neck as she felt the warmth of his body through her old T-shirt. His fingers dug into her hip, as if he were trying to hold on to the moment. Her body responded to every touch, every breath he took, like it had been made for him.

Without being aware of it, she rocked her hips toward him and felt his fingers tighten on her skin. She would probably have a bruise on her hip, and instead of scaring her, she relished in the possibility of having his brand on her. Jarrod turned his head slightly and whispered her name like a prayer, sending an ache through her body she knew only he could fill. Their eyes met and she knew he was going to kiss her. But before he could, there was a knock at the door, and Sam’s voice calling her name, which broke the spell. The moment she’d done everything to avoid and would give everything to have again.

“Trish? Are you in there? Come on, open the door.” Sam’s voice made her aware of what she was getting ready to do, and she shook her head as the lust-filled haze around them disappeared. She could not have sex with Jarrod; it would change, and jeopardize, everything they had all worked so hard to build. Most importantly, it would mean risking her heart, and she knew if things went wrong, she would never recover.

Without saying a word, she walked to the door and opened it to find Sam standing there with three coffees and croissants. “I’ll take the flush on your face as an indication that Jarrod is still here?” When she didn’t argue, he stepped inside. “Good, then we can all have breakfast.”

“Sam, your timing is probably the worst ever,” she heard Jarrod say from the bed.

Acting like he didn’t know he had just interrupted something, he laughed and said, “Because yours is so much better there, buddy. Five years and you couldn’t find the right time.”

Patricia looked at both of them. God, she couldn’t handle this right now. “I’m going to go take a shower. Think you guys can behave?”

Before she closed the bathroom door, she heard both of them say, “Nope,” and then laughter filled the room.

She closed the bathroom door and leaned her back against the cold surface, wondering what would have happened if Sam hadn’t knocked when he had. With her hands in her hair, she shook her head. “Shit.” She knew something had changed between the two of them in the last couple of months. They had always been flirty with each other, but the intensity of their connection had increased to a boiling point.

Jarrod

When she had climbed into bed with him the night before, it had felt like he had been handed a gift so precious he was afraid he would destroy it. Then this morning, when she pressed her lips against his cheek, he almost lost it. The urge to throw her down, get on top of her, and explore every inch of her body with his hands and tongue was almost too much for him to resist. But he knew her and her body language better than anyone, and in that moment, she’d been vulnerable. He knew he would hate himself if he made a move on her when she was like this. He wanted her fully on board, mentally and physically, when they took their relationship in that direction, and he wouldn’t take anything less from her.

When Sam knocked on the door and interrupted the moment he had been anticipating for such a long time, he wanted to fucking punch his friend and thank him at the same time. With Trish locked away in the bathroom, he looked over at Sam, who had taken a seat by the window, giving him a look that said everything, causing them both to laugh.

“What did I interrupt just now?” Sam asked while taking a sip of his coffee. Jarrod loved the man like a brother, but there was no way he was sharing such an emotionally charged moment with anyone, not even him.

Jarrod took a bite of his croissant and smiled. “You don’t want to know, trust me.” They both laughed again. “I felt her walls drop last night, Sam, and fuck, it felt so fucking good to have her with me like that.”

“You’ve both been dancing around each other for a long-ass time. It’s bound to blow up.” He knew Sam was right, but getting Trish to see it that way wasn’t easy.

“Has she talked to you lately? There’s something on her mind, but she won’t open up to me about it,” Jarrod asked, knowing Sam was the only other person she would confide in.

“She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. Give her time.” So Sam knew what was going on with her. Well, at least she was talking to someone.

Twenty minutes later, Trish walked out of the bathroom, her hair still wet from the shower, wearing jeans and a George Strait T-shirt. It didn’t matter what she wore, if she was dressed up or dressed down, she was so damn beautiful. He could look at her all day and never get tired of her. Her wavy brown hair went down below her shoulders, framing the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen on a woman before. He had heard so many times that the eyes were the window to the soul, but before meeting Trish, he hadn’t understood just what that meant. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. They told him when she was sad, when she was happy, and when she doubted herself. His eyes travelled down her curvy body. Fuck, he loved her curves. She wasn’t thin or fat. She had curves in all the right places, and a body toned by her workouts.

When both he and Sam looked at her from head to toe, she tossed her hands in the air. “What? It’s a travel day. Give me a break.”

Sam snorted and walked over to the door. “And on that note, I’m going to go check out. Jar, your stuff is already on the bus. Derek is waiting in the lobby. It’s not pretty outside, so don’t be late. We’re on a schedule.”

Jarrod watched her as she walked over to Sam and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the coffee.” Her voice barely registered over the ringing in his ears. He knew it was ridiculous, but he wanted her lips on him and him alone—no one said he was a rational man.

When Sam left the room, he got out of bed, and when he caught her looking at him and licking her lips, he swore this was some sort of test. It was a test he wasn’t opposed to failing if it meant having her look at him that way for the rest of his life. “If you keep looking at me like that, we are definitely going to miss bus call, and you know how Derek gets when we’re late.”

Half an hour later, they were both ready to head out to the bus. Standing in the hallway, waiting for the elevator, she looked out the window. “It got bad pretty quickly out there. It’s pouring now.”

 They could hear the wind had picked up against the hall windows. “Damn, that’s some storm,” he agreed.

 “No? Really? I hadn’t noticed,” she mocked him, punching his arm as she laughed. God, he loved her hands on him. When the doors opened, he let her go in first. She dropped her overnight bag on the floor and pressed the lobby button.

Looking straight at the door, she whispered, “Thank you for last night. I really needed that.”

 Her words took him by surprise. She never expressed gratitude for taking care of her; hell, she barely let him take care of her in the first place. “Never thought I would hear those words coming from you,” he said jokingly.

 “Funny, very funny, Jar.” As she said the words, the elevator came to a complete stop, jerking her forward, straight into his arms. “What the hell was that?”

 “That was me saving your gorgeous face from hitting the floor,” he said as he steadied her back on her feet, even if all he wanted to do was keep her body glued to his.

 “Be serious for a minute here. What was that? Oh, God, the elevator isn’t moving,” she said in a panic.

He knew she didn’t like confined spaces, so he put his hands on each of her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Breathe, sweetheart, everything is going to be fine.” The minute he felt her calm down, he pressed the emergency phone, and a few seconds later, a man’s voice came on the intercom.

 “Is everyone all right?” the man asked. He looked at Patricia, who fought hard to keep herself calm, and he shook his head, hating to see her like that.