The Last Love Song (A BWWM BDSM Romance) (20 page)

So as wound up as I was, when somebody grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up while I was on my way to my dressing room, I freaked the fuck out.

"Get off of me!" I screamed, kicking my feet out and slamming both of my elbows back into the gut of whoever was holding me. My shoes flew off and down the hall.

The figure grunted and let me go. I whirled around. "Vaughn!"

"Remind me not to sneak up on you," he said, though he was grinning. I looked him up and down - it had only been a couple of months and he didn't look much different, but it was such a shock to see him in person out of the blue like this.

"How did you get back here?"

"Gavin let me in." Gavin. I'd have to give that boy a raise.

I felt sort of shy and awkward all at once, standing there with him. People bustled around us and smartly kept their mouths shut.

"Get changed," he finally said, "That costume looks uncomfortable. We'll go out after - your choice." It was true - the shiny black bodice looked hot but it was crushing the hell out of my ribs.

"Good, 'cause I'm over those dive bars you seem to like so much," I said with a wink. Sashaying my hips, I turned and left him there, somehow only glancing back once to make sure he was watching.

I burst into activity once I was shut inside my dressing room. Lexi was already there, awaiting instructions. "I want a reservation at Senna Lounge," I said, "VIP area. You can send a security guy with me but I won't need more than one."

"You have an interview," she said, "You've got to do it, you promised Harper."

I had. Harper Moore had become kind of my late night guy over all the other shows. We'd streamed the concert, so half the internet had seen my new song already, but Harper would be the first to hear from me.
Just a few quick soundbites, then I can get the hell out of here.

"Right, I'll be ready in ten," I said, ripping the bodice away. "Make the call, though."

"The crew will be disappointed. It's the tour's kickoff, they want to party with you."

"Is it in my appointment book? No?" She shook her head. "Then they can wait. Set up something for tomorrow night. We'll get the stream up on a bigscreen and drink our faces off. Tomorrow."

"We'll be in San Francisco tomorrow."

"Does San Francisco have bars?" She nodded. "Then tomorrow!" I waved at her, indicating that she could leave.

I tried to remain poised through the interview. The director jammed an earpiece in my ear, and I spoke directly to Harper through the camera.

"We loved the new song, Zenaida!" he said. "How are you feeling about it?"

"I feel great, Harper. I was a little nervous but I think the audience enjoyed it. And I hope everybody watching from home liked it, too!"

"I know I did," he said. "Can you speak about the rumor that this song was written for you ex-boyfriend, the rising hip-hop producer Camden?"

"It was not about him, Harper," I said, as firmly as I dared on national television. "I can assure you and everyone who's listening. I did not write this song for Camden."

"Then who?"

"Can't a girl just write a love song?" I asked, batting my eyelashes.

"Not the famous anti-love song Zenaida!" he said.

"Now, now, Harper, a girl's got to have a few secrets." I winked.

Luckily he let that string of conversation die there. Maybe one day I would let the world know who the song was about - but not yet. It didn't matter what anyone thought they knew. It only mattered that Vaughn knew.

I found him waiting patiently in the hallway, chatting with the other bodyguard that Lexi was sending along with us.

"Hey," he said. "Lead the way."

I took his hand. I was done being Zenaida the Goddess of Pop for the night. Now, I was just a girl going out with her man.

We were allowed to enter Senna Lounge through the back door and were led straight upstairs to the VIP spot that I'd requested. Their own security team guarded the entryway, but Lexi's bodyguard stood nearby, keeping an eye out for anyone that would try to sneak past the velvet ropes.

I recognized a couple other celebrities there - a B-list actress that had appeared in one of my music videos, a corespondent that I'd interviewed with once before, but they all kept to themselves. This was known for being a quiet spot for the rich and famous to unwind without being harassed by each other or the public.

"Nice place," Vaughn commented, looking around. It was lit up in a wild variety of lights and decorated with glowing tables and golden lamps. We were seated on a velvet-cushioned bench along the side wall where we could look out into the rest of the lounge over the balcony's railing.

"Not really your scene, I know," I said. "But I don't have to worry about getting recognized up here." A waitress came around with complimentary champagne and took our drink orders, but otherwise we were left to ourselves.

"I missed you," I admitted as I sipped from the tall flute.

"Yeah?" He brushed his fingers down my arm. "What did you miss?"

"This," I said, nodding at his hand. "And that." I nodded toward his crotch and giggled.

"No. Be honest."

"I miss how you let me let go," I whispered. His presence even now made me feel safe and warm and free, all at the same time. I was just there with him. Present. The rest of the chaos of my life was a distant thing when we were alone.

"Mmm. Want to let go a little right now?"

I glanced around us. "What do you mean?"

"Let go of your panties. I want a souvenir."

I grinned. Where I should have argued, hemmed and hawed and hesitated and refused, I grinned and began to plot my way out the tiny thong.

It was quiet in the area directly around us. There were only a few guests in the VIP area and they were concentrated closer to the bar.
I am officially out of my mind
. I shifted over so that the bottom half of my body would be shielded by the glowing cube table. Vaughn watched, his eyes glinting with amusement, as I slid a thumb up the side of my dress and wiggled around, trying to get the elastic of my panties to let me go.

I giggled when they finally popped over my ass. I tugged them down my legs, all while trying to demurely make it seem like I was simply adjusting my dress. Then I was gracefully leaning over to fix something with my shoes. Then I shifted back over next to Vaughn.

He laughed as I discreetly passed him the wadded up ball of material. "I was going to let you do that in the bathroom but that was so much hotter."

My cheeks flushed.
Of course, the bathroom!
"Well I've never done anything like this before," I said, "I didn't know that was an option."

"It's not anymore," he said, stuffing the wadded up panties into his jeans pocket. "Now tell me what had you so upset earlier."

"What do you mean?"

"Pauline mentioned something about you needing a drink. And you were so jumpy when I found you backstage..."

"Oh come on," I joked, "You should know better than to surprise a girl like you did." He didn't joke back, he just waited patiently for me to go on. I sighed. The man was good at making a point using only his face, I had to give him that. "Camden is up to usual bullshit, that's all. I think I'm going to need to tell him off again." I clenched my fists as I spoke about him, bubbling with anger at the mere thought of his face.

Vaughn rubbed my back. "Did he threaten you?"

"No. He just keeps sending those fucking flowers." I leaned into his touch and felt the rage drain out of me. "Let's not talk about him, though."

"Good," he said. He studied my face. "I'm glad that you can let go of that anger. It isn't good for you."

"Well, you help me with that, somehow," I said, gently resting my head against his shoulder. "I wish I could help you let go, too."

He tensed. I knew that his own painful past was an off-limits sort of subject, but I also knew that he still carried a lot guilt around with him. Hell, I suspected half the reason he'd taken a job in Rhode Island was to avoid having anyone recognize him while the tabloids were at the height of their frenzy over us. Still I pushed, though I tried to dance around the subject as best I could, because I meant what I'd said.

"If you ever want to talk about it-"

"I know."

Well there I'd gone and ruined the mood. Great job, Zenaida. "I'm sorry," I said, "I don't mean to be pushy. It's just, I'm not really the bottle-it-up type. At all. So it's hard to relate."

"A boy died in my charge. The circumstances aren't important. That's the only fact that matters."

That was the most he'd said on the subject yet. Normally all I got out of him were mentions of karma. "What happened after?" I whispered.

He shrugged. "Nothing. The mother wanted to press charges but nothing stuck. And I was deployed right after." I ran a hand along his ribs, remembering the scars that lay beneath his shirt. "It's in the past. All of it."

But then he shifted away from me. It was only a hint, a fraction, but it may as well have been a mile.

He wasn't getting away that easy. I grabbed the collar of his shirt. "If I can learn to let go of my anger then you can learn to let go of your guilt. Now, kiss me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerous - this was a man that didn't take orders from anyone, after all.

"Seal the deal. That's what we're going to do for each other. Kiss me."

He struggled with it for a moment. But finally, he leaned in a and softly pressed his lips to mine. I savored it - his taste, his closeness.
Finally
. I slid my lips along his and hoped that he'd gotten the message.
We can be in this together, now
.

He sent a different sort of message though. He suddenly grabbed my hair, tugged it back, and his kiss became scorching.
We're in this together but I'm taking charge
. I melted into him with a soft gasp.

Somebody nearby cleared their throat. We broke apart, though I continued grasping his arms with trembling hands.
I'm gonna kill whoever's interrupting us
.

I turned to face the waitress. My lip was already curling into a snarl. I took a deep breath and prepared to chew her out.

"The paparazzi know you're here, Miss Zenaida," she said, her voice deliberately soothing, "Our manager just wanted us to let you know in case you needed to call for more assistance when you go."

"Thanks," I snapped. What I wanted to do was demand who had leaked my location. But Vaughn was pulling away and standing up.

"I should go."

"What? Why? Because of a few cameras?" I stood with him and grasped his arm. "Vaughn-" He glared back. Anger and sadness clouded his eyes.
He's afraid of them. He's afraid of what they'll say
. "Vaughn, if we're going to do this, you can't be afraid of a few asshole asking questions. It's part of the package. You just have to ignore them."

He shook his head. "I have to go." He left the VIP area and walked down the steps to the main lounge, heading for the front exit instead of the way we'd come in. They'd be out there, too, but hopefully less of them.

My heart sank to my shoes. A step forward, a step back. I hoped this wouldn't be enough to drive him away permanently, but how could we be together if he was afraid to be seen, afraid of what people would say?