Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) (14 page)

NEVER HAD A THREAT SOUNDED
more appealing than right then. Staring into Sean’s molten gaze, a wicked heat spread through my veins and warmed me from the inside. I wanted to feel his hands on my body, teasing, touching, and caressing every square inch of my naked curves.

My eyes locked onto his lips as my head tilted forward. The desire to get a second taste silenced Marco’s name blaring like a megaphone in my head.

Sean leaned away from my advances with a look of great restraint. “I don’t want this night to be looked upon as a regret. Are you positive you want this?”

Yes was on the tip of my tongue, because I had wanted Sean since the moment we’d first met. Since then he had been the number one fantasy haunting my dreams, especially after the kiss we’d shared.

He suddenly jumped to his feet. “I have somewhere I want to show you.” Caught off guard, I blinked at him, and a chuckle rose from his throat. “Come on.”

Hauling me to my feet, he didn’t let go of my hand as he ordered an Uber or for the entire ride to the unknown destination. Every once in a while, his pointer finger would tap a rhythm only he could hear against my skin.

I glanced out the window where the city streamed by. Pulling alongside the curb, we arrived at a pale pink building. Sean tugged me to the entrance and I dug my heels in.

“Tell me what’s behind that door,” I demanded as he shot a curious glance over his shoulder.

“An art gallery.”

“It’s closed.”

“Nothing is closed when you’re a rock star.” He didn’t say it to be cocky, he said it as a fact. Sensing my lingering reluctance, Sean squeezed my palm. “I promise it’s super cool. Trust me.”

“Okay.”

A radiant smile broke out across his face and my heart fluttered. After three firm knocks on the door, it swung open. The hulking security guard fist-bumped Sean as we walked inside the darkened space.

“Enjoy the show madam,” he drawled while flicking on the lights.

My breath caught in my throat. The walls were lined with photographs of women shot in a style I recognized immediately. “Holy shit. Is this…”

“Lisette Model?” Sean gently guided me farther into the gallery. “It is.”

I stared up at a self-portrait of Lisette clad in a bra with a camera around her neck. She was my inspiration and had spurred my love of photography.

Glancing at Sean from the corner of my eye, disbelief tinted my words. “How did you know?”

“I read your bio on your website and it said you first got into documenting the world when you picked up a book of photographs by Lisette in high school. When I saw the exhibit posted online, I knew I had to bring you here.”

My words got stuck in my throat as an overflow of affection swept over me.

“Did she only stick to street photography?” Sean asked.

I swallowed thickly. “She developed the style after the handheld camera was invented and was known for her stark, biting portraits of people, like this one for example.” We wandered to the next photograph of an overweight immigrant woman. Her eyes locked onto the camera with dignity. “Powerful, huh?”

“Very. Why do you admire Lisette?”

“She had a natural ability to connect with her subjects, resulting in an un-posed raw frame.”

“Your styles are similar. I watched your latest documentary last night and was impressed with the footage you managed to get. That young boy in the shootout with the rebels…” Sean glanced at me with wonder. “How the hell did you escape from that unharmed?”

“I didn’t.” When I pulled up my sleeve, his eyes widened at the half-inch long scar on my forearm. “The bullet ripped through my flesh without damaging any arteries, but the hospital was dirty and understaffed. I had to wait for almost three hours before a doctor could examine me.” I winced at the memory of the searing pain that had caused me to float in and out of conscious. “They had run out of painkillers, so they told me to bite onto a cloth they stuffed into my mouth while they poked and prodded at the wound.”

“You’re a badass.”

“More like reckless.”

Standing there next to Sean, it dawned one me my father’s anger stemmed from a place of fear. Losing my mother had almost killed him, and losing me too would probably push him over the edge. Lucky for my dad though, all that worry would soon be put to rest when I went on my extended break and lived a quiet existence in rural upstate New York.

“Why the sigh?” Sean asked.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“My dad. Reliving some of the stuff I have gone through, I understand why he wants me to quit, which unbeknownst to him is a wish that will be granted very soon.”

Sean’s mouth set into a thin line. “I thought you were taking a break.”

“Same thing.”

“Quitting is permanent, a break is a pause.”

“A break then,” I said. “Until Marco’s son gets better, and in the meantime, I can learn how to make apple cider and knit.”

Putting a positive spin on the new chapter that lay ahead didn’t quell my apprehension. What if I wasn’t cut out for a domestic life?

“You can do a documentary in New York. There is plenty of subject matter there, like the homeless population that squats underground in the old subway terminals.”

“Marco needs me by his side.”

He stepped into my line of sight and cradled my face in his hands. His eyes churned with the intensity of a winter storm. “Any guy would be lucky to have you waiting for him at the end of the day, but you have a rare and special talent that shouldn’t be chucked out the window once the wedding band is secure around your finger. If you love someone, you don’t force them to give up what makes their soul sing.” As he pressed his lips to my forehead, I breathed in his spicy scent, fully aware of what a goner I was.

When he stepped back, I already ached to be in his arms again. “Let’s go see the rest of the show.”

We wandered around the small gallery while Sean acted as the inquisitive student. He asked an endless stream of questions about Lisette, which I was happy to answer. The last photograph of an elderly lady smoking a cigarette in her undergarments signaled our night was coming to a close.

“Which snapshot was your favorite?” Sean asked.

“The self-portrait. She is baring herself to the audience without apology.”

“How much do you think it’s worth?”

A not-so-lady-like snort puffed out of my nose. “Millions. She is featured at the Getty Museum.” My eyes lovingly gazed around at her body of work hanging on the white walls. “I would love to own one of her photographs, but the chances of that happening are slim to none, unless I rob a bank or win the lottery.”

“Nothing wrong with dreaming big.”

His smile tugged my lips upward. “What do you dream of?”

“To save humanity.”

Laughing, Sean and I fell in line and walked toward the exit door. “In all seriousness, I don’t dream like I used to,” he said. “It seems ungrateful when you’re standing at the peak.”

“It isn’t ungrateful to want to reach for something bigger.”

“What’s bigger than this?” His arms widened to indicate the influence of his power. “I’m content with where I’m at.”

Stepping under the blazing yellow streetlight outside the gallery, Sean seemed as reluctant as I was to say goodbye. “Do you want to grab some ice cream or maybe a proper dinner?”

“Pancakes are a proper dinner.”

“A walk then?”

“Sure.”

Located off the main drag was a neighborhood with bungalows and old brick apartment buildings looming above the street. As we strolled along the tree-lined avenue, Sean’s strong grasp on my hand made me feel grounded, whole. We pointed out the houses we loved. Our similar appreciation for older architecture—where the charm lay in the stained glass windows and sloping roofs—chipped off another piece of my heart, which made my happy-ever-after with Marco that much fuzzier.

“What are you going to do with your sister?”

“Good question. I have no idea.”

“Jane sure is a spitfire.” Sean chuckled. “Ash was quite taken with her.”

“Men usually are. She is beautiful, smart, and doesn’t have a filter on that mouth of hers, which means lots of phone calls from displeased teachers.”

“That’s the thing about family, though. You love them despite how much of a pain in the ass they are.”

My brow raised as caught on to what Sean was trying to do. “Jane isn’t forgiven. She went behind my back and lied. It was…”

“Hurtful?” he supplied. “I don’t think she meant it to be. You should have seen how upset she was.”

“It doesn’t matter. She should have come clean about why she came to visit me in Atlanta. I would have gladly gone to a wedding gown warehouse sale with her…” Remembering the chaos in the church basement, I changed my tune. “Actually, that’s a lie, but she didn’t have to invite my father and his girlfriend along.”

Sean stuttered to a stop in front of a worse-for-wear Victorian house, the lawn patchy and threadbare. “Why does your father disapprove of Marco? Have they met?”

“He doesn’t disapprove of him as a person, he disapproves of the circumstances.”

“You can’t fault for him that.”

My eyes snapped to his. Breaking our interlocked fingers, I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re taking his side?”

“If you want to put it in second grade terms, then yes I am. You’re sacrificing your career and a chance at true love because you couldn’t save your mother, but Melody, nobody could save her. She had cancer. It wasn’t your fault, and marrying Marco to help his young son won’t bring her back.”

“You don’t need to lay some rudimentary psychology bullshit on me Sean! I’m aware my mother is dead and gone; the ache in my chest reminds me of that every single fucking day. I’m helping Hendrix because he deserves a childhood devoid of sickness. Do you want me to just kick him to the curb like some heartless monster?!”

“There are other ways to help. You can raise the money on Kickstarter or…” The sentence petered out as his eyes grew frantic. Grabbing me by the shoulders, his fingers dug into my skin. “If you opened your heart, you would see that it belongs to me, not to Marco. What you have with him is safe and comfortable, but it doesn’t make your palms sweat or your heart race. You deserve the kind of love that consumes you and drives you mad, the kind of love we are on the brink of. All you have to do is let go.”

SHIT. WHAT WAS I THINKING
telling Melody I was practically in love with her? I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. Desire to change Melody’s mind about Marco caused me to spill all the thoughts that should have stayed firmly in my head.

Her midnight-colored eyes were as flat as sea glass as she stared at me. “We aren’t close to being in love, Sean! We have known each other for less than four weeks.”

“I said we were on the brink.”

“We aren’t fucking on the brick of anything! I’m getting married.”

“You’re entering into an agreement so Marco’s son can get health insurance.”

“I love him!”

She screamed it without conviction. It was a lie she wanted to believe so badly she must have hoped that by saying the words, she would somehow make it real. That wasn’t how it worked though. I knew love, and I had felt love, but I had never felt anything like this before, and neither had she, obviously.

Her chest rose and fell as her breathing came out in rapid succession. The olive tone in her skin turned a waxy gray. She bent forward at the waist as she settled her hands on her knees and made a strangled wheezing noise.

Rushing over, I rubbed her back in a soothing motion. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breath, in and out, in…” She sucked in a lungful of air. “Out.” She exhaled. We repeated this for several seconds.

“I’m better,” she said, righting herself. Tears streaked down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

“Has that happened before?”

Melody shook her head. “I have been shot at, chased through the streets of Mexico, and almost kidnapped, yet I have never had a panic attack.”

“I guess love is scarier.”

She shot me the stink eye and I laughed. “Let’s get you home.”

Panic flooded her eyes and my fingers clamped around her elbow in case she doubled over again. “I don’t want to see my sister yet.”

“She’s still on the tour bus last I checked.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes. She, Ash, and Noah are playing a card game.”

“Clothed?”

A reasonable question, considering Ash was involved. “As far as I’m aware.”

Nibbling her plump bottom lip, she gazed at me from under her lashes. She looked so fucking sexy I had to put some space between us, or else I couldn’t be blamed for my actions. No man could. Melody was a goddamn siren.

“Okay, but you can’t come into my room. You’re just dropping me off and then leaving.”

“You’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

“We both know what happens when we are in close proximity together.”

The image of her wet t-shirt clinging to her perfect round breasts blared in Technicolor in my mind, as did the sensation of her nipples sliding against my chest and the heat in her eyes before my mouth drowned in her sweetness.

Melody’s wagging finger brought me back to reality. “See! This is what I’m talking about. Stop any dirty thoughts you’re having right this minute”

“Tell that to my dick.”

An adorable blush tinted her cheeks a rosy pink as her eyes dipped below my waist. “Get it under control.”

“If I would I could. I have had a permanent case of blue balls for the past four weeks. It hasn’t exactly been pleasurable.”

A flicker of lust ignited in her gaze at the word pleasure, but quickly dissipated. “Whatever.”

She started stomping down the street and I chuckled to myself while following after her. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“We are almost twenty miles from your hotel. You plan on walking?”

Stubborn to the bone, she muttered a curt
yes
. I shrugged, happy to get the exercise, although my gut was telling me Melody wouldn’t last a quarter mile before she threw in the towel. It was late, and exhaustion lined her face.

Two miles later, she ran out of steam. I pulled out my cellphone and let her keep her dignity as I silently rang for a car.

I STOOD AT THE THRESHOLD
of her room, watching as she crawled on top of the covers fully clothed. Letting out a sigh of contentment as her head hit the pillow, she closed her eyes. I was about to shut the door when her voice, thick with sleepiness, made me pause.

“Stay.”

“What about your request?”

“Stay,” she said again. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I can get your sister.”

The devil on my shoulder was yelling at me to shut up. Melody was sober and perfectly in the right frame of mind. Why the hell was I resisting what I craved like a stiff drink?

Through a yawn, she said, “I don’t want my sister. I want you.”

Melody didn’t need to convince me any further. Closing the door, I double locked it and slipped off both our shoes. My body fit around hers like two . Her ass wiggled into my crotch, and I did some complicated math in my head to solve a whole other problem.

“Sean? Do you really think I won’t be happy if I marry Marco?” Her entire body tensed, waiting for the answer she obviously didn’t want to hear.

Lying would do her no favors. “I really do think that.”

“There was a time when I would have been content with a house in the country and a family.” She sat up and crossed her legs. Focusing on the blank television screen, she spoke softly. “But that American dream is a mirage. My parents thought they had it until my mother came home one day and told us she had cancer. She was given six months; she lasted three. Witnessing my father’s grief showed me how dangerous it was to love someone as if they hold the moon. He lost himself when she passed.”

“You can’t protect yourself from heartache and hide behind the notion that a comfortable love is a safe love. If you tie yourself to Marco, there will be rough patches. It won’t be smooth sailing.”

“I know that, but at least it will be easier if…” She buried her head in her hands and groaned. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I thought I did, but then I met you and…”

“Call off the wedding.”

“But then Marco would be deported and his son would be left without health insurance.”

“We are throwing a benefit concert in his honor to raise the funds,” I confessed as I scooted to where she sat, unmoving. “You aren’t stuck. There are other options.”

“The medical clinic costs almost sixty grand. I can’t ask you or anyone to donate that amount.”

The number was higher than I’d estimated and last I’d checked, we only had half of that when all was said and done. It didn’t matter though; I would find a way to make up the difference. “You can and you will.

“No,” she said firmly. “This is the grave I dug for myself. It’s my responsibility to dig myself out, and if I can’t…” Melody smiled to mask the pain behind her gaze. “I’ll always think back fondly on the memories we have made together. You have broken through my walls and have showed me the future I could have if I wasn’t too scared to go after it.

I breathed in the fruity smell of her body wash, drowning in the sea of emotions that were impossible to sort through. Melody was trading her happiness for a young boy’s life, and while I wished she was another kind of person—someone selfish who put her needs above everyone else’s—she wasn’t. Her selflessness was one of the many amazing qualities she possessed, and it made me want to smash a heavy object against the wall to know Marco was taking advantage of it.

Inches away from me, Melody’s eyes flickered to my mouth as the air crackled with the enough electricity to cause a power outage.

“I opened your eyes a little too late, and that is a regret I’ll always have,” I said softly.

“No regrets—promise me Sean. Life is too precious to constantly think about what you could have done differently.”

“You’re marrying a man you aren’t in love with.”

“Like you said, I love him in a different way, a quieter way.” She shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“And you’re okay with the spending the next forty or so years with a glorified teddy bear?”

“I have to be,” she stated.

“You don’t have to do anything Melody! Fuck!” My fist slammed on the scratchy duvet and she jumped. “You aren’t indebted to him.” My chin dropped to my chest as I fought against the rage battling inside me.

“We should stop this and remain friends. It would be easier in the end.”

The mattress dipping jerked my head up and I caught Melody around the wrist as she attempted to flee. “Bullshit. Nothing will make this easy in the end. We are already in too deep, and we both we know it.”

“I could quit then, and…”

“And what?” I challenged. “Run home to Marco? I’m not giving you up before I have to.”

Irritation flashed across her features at my domineering tone. “You can’t chain me to the wall.”

“It’s tempting.” Getting off the bed, Melody met my gaze with a challenge that tested my patience. If I had a choice, Melody would be stripped naked with my head buried between her thighs as I proved she belonged to me, not Marco. “So very tempting,” I murmured.

“I’m not a BDSM kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl are you then?”

A devilish smile spread across her face as she purred, “A dirty one.”

The restraint I did my best to practice shattered into a million fragments. She gasped against my mouth as I tugged her into my chest and kissed her. She tasted like maple syrup and buttery pancakes.

Nipping her bottom lip, I pulled back and cradled her face in my hands. “Tell me to stop and I will. Just say the word.”

The lust clouding her gaze told me her body wanted me, but a single piece of Melody wasn’t enough. I wanted the whole package—her body, her mind, and her heart.