Dangerous Hearts: Rock Star Romance, 1 (Lyric & Wolf) (17 page)

Wolf

The
question isn’t whether I want Lyric by my side. And there isn’t a spec
k
of doubt that she would be here if I asked. The
problem is the self-consuming hole of darkness I tumbled into the moment Lyric
said she wanted to meet my mother. It sent me down a mental path I
've
avoided for so long. Four years
,
to be exact. Never in my wildest dreams did I
expect to unleash that on her, but after her comment
,
there was no stopping the volcano of emotions
that
rose
in my chest. And then she had to watch me physically fall apart in
the bathroom. I cried like a fucking baby
,
and
she saw every single teardrop.

Then she held me.

I’ve loved one woman and one woman only.
My mother. When she was dying, we spoke of my future. I made promises to her;
some I’ve been able to fulfill, others I haven’t. Have I respected every woman
I’ve encountered? Not in a sense that my mother would be proud of. Have I
worked hard and stayed true to my dreams? Without a doubt. Have I met someone
who
makes every other flower wilt in comparison?
Hell yes.
Do
I have any intention of pursuing
the connection? That’s where shit gets complicated.

I didn’t think my heart was capable of
beating this way for anyone, not even someone as beautiful and smart and sexy
as Lyric. The death of my mother suffocated a part of me until I thought it had
grown cold and died
.
L
etting
someone in mean
s
them seeing all of me
—
the damage, the hurt, the pain, the bitterness I
have
toward life beyond the music. There
's
no way in hell I was opening myself up to anyone
if it meant being vulnerable like that. I’d always been the strong one.
A
s my mother was fading
away
,
my hand squeezed hers, letting her know I would be okay when she was gone and
could no longer look after me. But even as I ma
de
those
promises, I knew they were all
sugarcoated lies to mask my pain
and
make her
death as peaceful as possible.

The lies hurt like hell. They still do.

While I promised my mother one thing, I
silently promised myself something different. Falling in love was never the
plan.

When Lyric said she wanted to meet my
mother, it all came crashing down. My first thought was that my mother would
have
adore
d
her.
She’d
have
give
n
me that knowing smile, like when I’d ma
d
e a
decision she was proud of but expected no different
ly
because she believed in me. And then the realization hit like a boulder slowly
rolling over me and crushing my
chest;
I let
my attraction for someone completely obliterate my vow—a vow I made for a
damn
good reason. Because loving someone hurts like
hell when it ends.

There’s a tap at my door before it opens
and Lyric appears. I watch her beautiful body as she quietly closes the door
and leans against it, a mixture of her pain and sorrow clearly written on her
face. I caused this. I led her on. For a second, I believed I could do this
—b
e with her in a way that was more than sex and an
ego boost.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she
says. It’s then I see her songbook clutched to her chest. “I wrote something.
Will you read it?”

I can almost feel her heart pounding in
her chest. The way she’s letting her vulnerability bleed into my room, she’s
asking me to trust her without asking anything at all. If I had to name the
thing I love
most
about Lyric, it might just
be the words she’s able to express on paper. It’s my ultimate weakness, which
is why, despite my intention to let her go, I nod.

Her steps are slow. Her eyes are
everywhere but on mine. And then she sit
s
on
my bed, handing me her open book. I take it, but then I pull her down so that
she’s lying
by
my side. Her free arm wraps
around my waist and her cheek rests on my chest. I’m sure she can feel my heart
racing
at our nearness.

The title,
“
Taste,
”
catches my attention first, and then I read her
words. My eyes drag across and down the page slowly, allowing every single word
to sink in, until I can feel myself shaking with emotion. I’m going to fall
apart again.

Not sure how this will all end

Stealing pieces of me
’
til you win

A silent war between heart and mind

Heart wins every time

I wish it were that easy.

Lyric takes the book from my hands and
sets it on the floor before facing me again. When she plants her soft lips on
mine, her lyrics
run through
my mind again until
they’re blinding me. My response to her words is revealed in my response to her
kiss. I take over, gently moving her so that she’s beneath me. My tongue dives
in to explore her mouth and all its warmth. I let my passion bleed into her, while
I keep my movements achingly slow
and
appreciati
ve
.

After peeling the layers of clothes from
our bodies and placing my mouth on all
her
exposed places, I beg her to look at me. I’m positioned above her,
and
her knees
are
up,
her
legs spread wide to accommodate me. The
rubber is hugging me, unwelcome but necessary, and I’m ready to enter her. But
I can’t be inside her unless I’m staring into her eyes. I love that I can see
every emotion in them as if their depths could carry me straight to her heart.
When our eyes lock, I let out a sigh and remove my finger from her folds,
exchanging it for the tip of my penis. “You’re beautiful, Lyric.”

Her breath catches when I push into her.
I go slow, letting her get used to me, and then I sink deeply, as far as our
bodies will take me
.
For
a moment, I simply
hold her to me while I kiss her. Her hugging
tightness is enough to make me forget to breathe. Her high-pitched sigh causes
me to thicken inside her
,
a
nd then I’m moving, pushing into her with slow
strokes. Our eyes never break their hold.

After a while, I need to squeeze my eyes
shut; the pleasure becomes too much, but she’s there with me, our heated
breaths colliding. Becoming one.

When her fingertips dig into my shoulders
and her movements take over, controlling every thrust with finite detail, I
feel my own build intensify. “Baby, come with me.”

She releases stuttered breaths. “Wolf,”
she whimpers. “I’m going to come.”

The tone behind her words is my undoing
,
and I take control back
,
rock
ing
my hips into hers with more demanding
thrusts. I bury my
face
in her neck
,
tast
ing
the sweat
rolling down her skin
, before
bit
ing
into it as she screams with her release. Her
tightness clenches around me, over and over, as I pound into her again and
again.

With a grunt, my own orgasm erupts into
the condom, into her. When the final ounce of me is released, I’m still
shaking. I fall on top of her, never wanting to leave her warmth. Her arms and
legs are wrapped tightly around me, her breathing fighting
against
the weight of my body splayed on top of her.

“Holy shit,” I say with a rush of air.
“What the fuck was that?” I look down at her, lifting myself to relieve some of
my weight.

She bites her lip and releases it quickly
before smiling. “I think you liked my song.”

I feel my entire body soften at her
words. It forces me to remember what brought us to this point—to the aftermath
of the best fucking sex in the world. “I loved it,” I reply before slipping
from her and disposing of the condom.

When I return to the bed, Lyric is still
lying naked, staring out the window with a thoughtful expression. She said we d
idn
’t need to talk about it, but how can I hold back
after that? After she poured her heart out to me in the form of lyrics and
after we shared the most intense sex I’ve ever had. I climb onto the bed, wrap
my arms around her
,
and kiss her cheek.
Sliding my hand down, I circle the dark peaks of her breasts with my finger, all
the while still looking into her eyes. “You’re beautiful. If I say it too much,
I’m sorry, but you’re the most beautiful fucking thing.”

When Lyric smiles
,
it’s always genuine and always starts from her eyes. “You’re not so bad
yourself.”

For this
next
part,
I need to look away. I rest my cheek on her chest and tell her the story of my
mother.

“My mom was diagnosed with cervical
cancer when I was sixteen. I was still in high school and could barely keep up.
I was terrified I would lose my mom, fighting with anyone who ever gave me shit
about anything. Suspensions were frequent and music was my only outlet. Even as
sick as she was, she swore she’d beat the living shit out of me if I didn’t
smart up.” I chuckle over the tightness in my chest.

“I listened to her, graduated from high
school and then spent every free moment trying to take care of my mom. Still
made time for my music, because it was the only thing that kept me from feeling
like drowning. My sister helped as much as she could between work and school.
She’d take over when I’d have gigs. But my mom kept getting worse.

“Chemo made her miserable. The cancer was
spreading. So I stayed at home, took some online classes, but I knew I didn’t
want to go the college route. I was cooking, cleaning, taking her to doctor
appointments, to the hospital when she’d . . .” I take a breath when my voice
catches.

Lyric turns to wrap an arm around me. She
rests her cheek on my chest and I find my breathing slow again, enough to
continue.

“My father was on the road a lot, but
when she started to get worse, he just disappeared. I’d follow his tour online
and would know when his time off was, but he never came home. Never even
called. I’d see pictures of him all over social media with groupies slung over
each arm, half dressed. I died inside thinking my mother might see the same
things. My mom was a fucking angel. She never wanted me to feel bad, so she didn’t
say a word, but I know she was so hurt, Lyric.”

I take a ragged breath, trying desperately
not to get worked up.

“And then she was at the hospital again.
Doctors said she was close to death. My dad still never fucking showed up. My
mom would always talk to me about the things she wished for me. She’d beg me to
make her promises, about how I would treat women . . . that I would choose
the one
carefully.” My eyes flicker to
Lyric who’s tracing light circles on my skin. “And that when I found her she
would be it for me. She never said it, but I know she didn’t want me to become
my father.

“I made those promises to her. Every
single one, but I’ve done a shit job of seeing them through. When she passed, I
went straight to the music and buried myself in it. Let it consume me. That’s
been my last four years. Sex, alcohol, and rock
’
n’
roll. It was therapeutic in a sense. It helped me repress all of it, but I know
my mom is probably rolling over in her grave.”

“You make it sound like you’ve been
living in sin for four years,” Lyric says gently. “You were mourning your
mother’s death. It’s natural to not deal with death right away. I can’t imagine
losing someone so close to me
,
but I
don't think
it’s something
you
ever fully heal from. You’re going to make mistakes, Wolf. It’s never too late
to make better decisions.”

My sweet Lyric. So optimistic. I lean in
to kiss her again. If anything can illuminate the darkness, it’s the feelings I
have for Lyric. “I wrote something
,
too
.
”

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Can I read
it?”