Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) (6 page)

IT WAS PLAIN AS DAY
that her fiancé hadn’t captured her full heart. A piece, perhaps, but not the whole entire beating organ, otherwise he would have ripped away the barbwire she shielded herself with.

“Why are you getting married?”

Melody came to a stumbling stop as she looked at me, startled, as if a giraffe had landed in the middle of the street. “Why?”

“Yes, why? You obviously aren’t the kind of woman who believes in fairytales and white puffy dresses.”

“I used to be.” She spoke it so quietly I inched forward to capture the rest of her words, but there were none.

The mystery of her past was woven into the silence. A tender vulnerability shone in her eyes and my arms felt empty without her in them. I wanted to offer whatever margin of comfort I could, but the dull roar of a truck passing on the highway broke the moment.

Slipping the mask back in place, Melody smiled. “Can we save the deep meaningful conversations until after we eat? I’m starving.”

“Sure.”

We proceeded to Fat Smitty’s where the rowdy vibe and blasting jukebox made it impossible to think, let alone talk. When our food arrived—a double cheeseburger for me and a lettuce and ketchup “burger” for Melody—we dug into the greasy feast. Melody savored each bite, offering a glimpse into what she would be like in the bedroom. As she licked the ketchup from her fingers, she nearly brought me to my knees with intense lust. A blow job from another woman hadn’t satisfied my craving, it would seem only Melody could do that. Jesus, she made me want to break the rules and bend her over the table, and fuck her until she didn’t remember her fiancé’s name, only mine as she cried it out in orgasm.

“Are you ready?” Melody pointed to the door, in case I couldn’t hear.

“I’ll meet you outside.”

Grabbing her jacket, she exited the restaurant. I slumped forward in my seat and cradled my head in my hands. Six weeks of fighting my attraction to Melody might kill me. I could see the headlines:
Drummer Dies From Extreme Case of Blue Balls
.

With a resigned groan, I threw a twenty on the table and followed after her. My feet crunched on the broken beer bottles littered outside the front entrance. Looking around the vacant lot, Melody was nowhere to be found. Had she decided to head home by herself? Worry swelled up like a tidal wave as drunken laughter that came from around the corner carried on the breeze.

Two stocky men were leaning against the brick wall near the dumpsters, the ember tips of their cigarettes glowing in the darkness.

“Come on sweetie, it will be quick,” the pudgy one said.

“Yeah and then you can move on to me and I’ll show you what a real man tastes like.” The second one cackled, which morphed into a wet hacking cough.

My heart slammed against my ribcage. I stepped closer to get a clearer picture of the situation. A flash of a black hair compelled me to call out, “Hey!”

Their two heads swung over to me, eyes as flat as pennies. They weren’t drunk. They were blackout wasted. Their lips were twisted into cruel smirks, and the men looked to be itching for a fight.

My fists balled at my sides and adrenaline pumped into my veins. “What are you two assholes up to?”

“None of your fucking busin—”

His head jerked backward and blood flew when a fist connected with his nose. He stumbled, tripped, and fell face first onto the cement, landing with a sickening crunch. The second man didn’t have time to react before a foot connected with his stomach and knocked the wind from his lungs. He slumped onto his knees and curled into a ball.

What the hell just happened?

Their intended victim emerged from the shadows. Melody. She straightened her crumpled dress. “Thanks for distracting them.”

Without thinking, I closed the distance between us and grabbed her by the shoulders. My eyes raked over her torso to assess any damage. She looked unharmed, but the sickening thought of
what if
caused my airway to constrict. What if I hadn’t gotten there in time? What if the two men had…? I couldn’t go there.

“Look at me Sean.” I stared into her eyes, which were framed by thick black lashes. Calming as the crashing surf, they slowed my heart rate to a normal pace. She laid her palm against my cheek. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? They didn’t…”

“No, they didn’t touch me. They were just two drunken idiots who were all bark and no bite.”

“You should have waited for me.”

Her gaze darkened with annoyance as she dropped her hand. “I don’t need saving.”

The man closest to us groaned and turned onto his back. A purple bruise already colored his jawline.

“Obviously. You kicked the asses of two men twice your size,” I said. “But it’s not safe to go wandering off in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t wander off. I heard a cat.”

“A cat?”

“It sounded sad so I went to go investigate. As I was on my knees, cooing to get its attention, the two men cornered me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes I’m serious!”

She stomped past me with a huff, which was incredibly adorable. Grinning, I checked to make sure her victims were breathing. They were, and the hangovers they would suffer from the next day would be a bitch and a half.

Melody, a woman with a heart of gold and the skills of a kung fu master. “Do you have any other hidden talents I should know about?” I questioned when I caught up with her.

“I know how to tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.” My feet stumbled at the visual. She laughed at my smoothness. “I’m joking.”

“Too bad; I would have really liked to see that.”

She cast a glance my way with a wicked smirk. “I’m sure.”

“But in all seriousness, you morphed into Catwoman back there.”

“Hardly. Those were some basic self-defense moves.”

“Don’t be modest. It doesn’t fit you.”

“Hey! I can be modest.” She giggled at my expression of disbelief and caved. “Fine, you’re right. I suck at being modest.”

“There is nothing sexier than a woman with confidence.”

“Other parts of the world would disagree with you.” Melody tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you know any self-defense?”

“I used to do MMA—mixed martial arts fighting.”

“What happened?”

“A torn rotary cuff.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t as if I planned to fight professionally. What’s your backstory? How did you end up learning to kick people’s asses?”

“I wasn’t the popular girl in high school. My glasses, frizzy black hair, and hand-me-down clothes didn’t exactly scream sexpot. I didn’t date and basically lived in a dry wasteland until I was eighteen. Once I got into college, it was a chance to reinvent myself.” Her dark brown eyes shimmered with mirth. “How cliché, huh?”

“I’m guessing your favorite movie was
She’s All That
?”

Melody snorted. “Hell no.
City of Gods
.”

Of course she would pick a gritty action flick.

“Anyway, I soon came to the conclusion that I could change my outside appearance all I wanted, but that wouldn’t change how I acted—shy and meek. My friend suggested kickboxing, and once those gloves were fitted on my hands, it was like another woman entered my body. Kickboxing led to self-defense after I started traveling to some of the most dangerous places on earth for work.”

“Damn. I guess you really don’t need anyone to save you.”

“No, but sometimes it’s fun to play the damsel.”

My eyes latched onto her mouth, which was begging to be claimed. She wet her top lip and I bit back a groan. Blood swelled to my crotch as a vivid image of her tongue wrapped around my cock played in my head like a dirty porno. I dug in deep for all the self-control I possessed. My hands curled at my sides instead of in her thick luscious hair that ran in waves down her back. Somehow, despite my best efforts, the space between us closed and our bodies ended up inches apart. Looking up at me with an equal amount of desire written on her face, Melody’s hands entwined behind my neck. Her perfume smelled like peppercorns and cotton candy—sweet and spicy, naughty and nice. I wanted her. No, that wasn’t right - I
needed
her more than I needed oxygen. My forehead leaned against hers, our ragged breaths mingling together.

“We shouldn’t,” she said in a tortured whisper.

I didn’t disagree. Crossing the line would be stupid and reckless with consequences that reached far beyond tonight. More than that, though, I was a greedy bastard and wanted more than a sample of what Melody tasted like.

My palms ran over her arms, which were dotted with goose bumps. “I have one rule, to not step on another man’s turf, but I have never been closer to breaking that rule than right now.”

The lust-driven layer cleared from her gaze as she stepped away. Her arms around her middle as she flashed me an abashed smile. “We should get back. It’s late.”

I watched her leave with regret swirling in my stomach like battery acid.

MELODY WAS NOTHING BUT CORDIAL
to me for the next week, and it made me want to punch someone in the throat. On the plus side, any worries Matthew had about my concentration were put to rest. The cocky asshole probably thought he had cured me of my attraction to Melody, while that couldn’t have been further from the truth. If anything, it had grown stronger.

Taking a swig from an ice-cold beer, I stared at the large flat screen television where a football game played out in high definition. My interest toward the sport fell in the lukewarm category. It was fun to cheer on the winning team, but if you asked me who my favorite player was, I couldn’t say. Ash and Noah’s peels of laughter floated above the crackling jukebox. They beckoned me out with the promise of a lady-free night, which lasted half a beer before two buxom blondes whispered sweet nothings in their ears and cut our bro time short. I threw a wad of twenties on the bar to cover my tab.

“I’m leaving,” I announced.

Ash removed his tongue from the blonde’s throat long enough to ask, “Where are you going?!”

“I’m tired.”

“It’s barely eleven o’clock.”

“Yeah man,” Noah said. “Stay.”

The bleached blonde snuggled closer into Ash’s side. “My friend should be here soon. We can make it a six-some.”

A shudder ran down my spine. Crossing swords with my brothers didn’t appeal to me in the slightest. “I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”

“Any time baby,” she purred.

Ash’s hazelnut eyes danced around my face as if he were attempting to solve the mystery behind my apparent lack of interest. He bent his mouth to the blonde’s ear.

Huffing out a breath, she exited the booth and tugged down her shirt to reveal a swath of creamy white cleavage. “Fucking musicians,” she muttered.

The woman’s friend climbed off Noah’s lap in solidarity. They both returned to the bar in prowl mode, determined to snag their next victim.

“Sit,” Ash said without room for protest. As I slid into the booth, he shoved his beer into my hands. “Drink.”