Текст книги "Rock Addiction"

Автор книги: Nalini Singh

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“If you’re fat, I’ll eat my fucking guitar,” Fox muttered, sliding down his hands to cup her butt. “You’re exactly right.”

A woman would have to be in a seriously bad headspace to argue with that statement from the sexiest man in the world, and while the online attack had shaken Molly, the knock hadn’t dented the heart of her. Nuzzling at his throat and drawing the primal masculine scent of him inside, she said, “We were lucky to skate under the radar this long, weren’t we?”

Fox’s eyes were solemn when they met her own. “Cost of doing what I was born to do is that I lose my privacy.” The edge in his tone was tempered by the protective heat of his hold. “I won’t lie. If you’re with me, you won’t have any either.” His chest rose as he drew in a breath, released it. “Soon as the vultures figure out we’re serious, they’ll dig up everything about you. And Molly”—one hand cupping her face—“you have to be ready for some of your friends to turn against you when offered a big payday.”

Molly heard the pain he couldn’t quite hide, wanted to hurt the person who’d betrayed him. “Biggest skeleton in my closet has to do with my father.” The idea of the world salaciously picking through the ruins of her childhood made a stabbing sensation jab through her, but she’d already considered that consequence when she decided to be with Fox.

“Whatever happens with that,” she said, turning her face into his palm, “it won’t be any kind of surprise.” Today’s shock, however, had had one unforeseen consequence. “I was so nervous all this time about media exposure, but I forgot I’m not a vulnerable, scared girl anymore.” Hadn’t been for a long time. “I’m a strong woman, a survivor… and I have you.” A man who would never let her fall.

“Thank you.” It was a rough-voiced statement, his head bent, his breathing low and harsh.

“For what?” She stroked the side of his face, his stubbled jaw a familiar sensation against her skin. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

Chapter 29

“I know how private you are.” His fingers flexed then curled again around the side of her neck. “I was fucking terrified you’d turn and run in the other direction the first time you saw what being with me can mean.”

“What kind of rock chick would I be if I allowed boneheads like that to scare me off?” Stroking her fingers through the chocolate dark strands of his hair, she petted him as he’d so often done her. “I was just hoping we’d have longer to be us before the outside world started poking its nose into something that isn’t anyone’s business but ours.”

The instant the words were out of her mouth, she groaned. “I’m such a hypocrite. I have a gossip magazine in my bag for the flight home.” It had always seemed like harmless fun to read articles about the lives of the rich and glamorous; she’d never equated those “fluff” articles with the kind of hounding the media had put her family through. “I feel so bad now.”

Fox laughed, pressing an affectionate kiss to the curve of her jaw. “As far as vices go, that’s a forgivable one.”

“Still, it’s one I’m going to kick,” she vowed. “Otherwise, I can’t complain about the people who violate our privacy.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Fox bent his knees so they were eye to eye. “A lot of the ‘shocking’ news articles and ‘scandalous’ photo ops are carefully choreographed.”

She pretended to pout. “Don’t burst my bubble.”

Nipping at her lower lip, he rose to his full height. “It’s not all fake. Some of us don’t want to play the game”—a growl of sound—“but we’re pulled into it regardless.”

“We lucked out in New Zealand, didn’t we?”

“Baby, you have no idea.”

“It has to be a hotel employee who sold the pictures.” Scowling, she curled her fingers into her palms against the taut muscle of his chest. “Has no one heard of confidentiality?”

 “So innocent.” Fox shook his head. “You’ll be terrible for my bad boy image if this gets out.” Cupping the back of her head in one strong hand, he opened his mouth over hers, his tongue and lips doing things to her that made her whimper and want to beg for mercy.

A leisurely parting, their lips slick, he ran his knuckles down her throat, along the valley between her breasts. “Clearly”—he began to undo the belt of her robe—“I have to corrupt you as much as possible.”

The robe fell to the floor, Fox’s hands on her skin. No nasty words, Molly thought before thought became impossible, could ever hold as much power as the passion and the tenderness of her lover’s touch.

Kathleen came up around ten thirty that morning. The actress was dressed with her usual pizzazz in a formfitting leather skirt the color of roasted coffee beans, her feet sheathed in five-inch designer heels in luscious raspberry—the color matched her sleeveless top, the prettily tied fabric bow to one side of the high neck keeping the outfit on the right side of sexy. “I’m doing librarian chic, see?” She twirled in those teetering heels, her hair smooth and shiny in a bun at the back of her head. “In honor of our new friendship.”

Molly bit the inside of her cheek. “I’d like to see you survive eight hours on a library floor in those heels.”

Cocking her hip, Kathleen placed a perfectly manicured hand on it. “I’ll have you know I ran in heels worse than this for an action flick I did three years ago. Did eighty takes at least because my douche-bag costar had to be a prima donna.” Fingers pressed between her high, firm breasts, she fluttered her lashes and, voice a piercing falsetto, said, “What do you mean she gets to be in front of me? I’m the lead, not this jumped-up soap ‘star.’” Kathleen made air quotes with her fingers. “Dickhead actually did the air quotes.”

“Bet he’s sorry now.”

“He sends me weekly bouquets and asks for introductions.”

“Have you? Introduced him?” Molly made a coffee for the other woman, her own tea already sitting on the gleaming wooden table in the dining room.

“In his dreams.” Snorting, Kathleen took the coffee and leaned against the wall rather than taking a seat at the table. “How are you doing?” It was a gentle question. “I saw that piece on G&V.”

Molly blew on her tea to cool it, thinking of the forty-five-minute phone call she’d had with Charlotte. “My best friend pointed out that if I had to have a ‘debut,’ then better I got caught dressed to the nines in full makeup than wearing sweats while having a fat day with bad hair.”

Kathleen’s laughter was full-bodied and vivacious. “She’s right, you know,” she said afterward, amber eyes drenched in warmth. “I’d pay to be caught so deliciously in flagrante with a hunk like Fox.” A wrinkling of her nose. “Except not Fox. It would be like sleeping with my spiritual brother. Ew.”

Molly’s face must’ve given something away because Kathleen’s mouth dropped open. “Oh no, you didn’t. You thought Fox and I bumped our bits?”

“You’re stunning, he’s hot, your friendship’s rock solid.” Molly felt like she’d been called up to the principal’s office when Kathleen glared at her. “We’re talking about Fox here.” Gorgeous, talented, wonderful.

Kathleen groaned. “Oh, it is sickeningly cute that you think no woman can resist him.”

Scowling, Molly folded her arms. “Did you just insult the man I adore?”

“As only a friend can.” Kathleen twirled one heel-clad foot, eyes downcast, before raising her head and pointing a finger at Molly. “You ever breathe a word of what I’m about to tell you, and I’ll sell a story to the tabloids saying I caught you doing unspeakable things with and to a goat.”

“Cross my heart.”

It took Kathleen another minute to speak. “The sparks were there—but not with Fox—with My Dick is My Life Noah.” One graceful hand clenched against her leather skirt, she blew out a breath. “We’d never been close, Noah and I, maybe because there was always this tension beneath the surface, but that changed eighteen months ago. The connection…”

The other woman took a long sip of her coffee. “We played chess together.” Her smile was unutterably sad. “No guy had ever spent so much time with me without wanting sex—though don’t get me wrong, the heat was there. Seriously. But we never so much as kissed.”

It was a difficult idea for Molly to process, Noah the most promiscuous member of Schoolboy Choir.

“We talked,” Kathleen said, voice quiet. “Hours and hours, until I felt as if I knew him inside out, as if I could tell him anything. He was the one who gave me the courage to try out for that part in Last Flight.” Trembling voice, jerky breath. “When I was afraid people would laugh at an ex-soap-actress auditioning for such a serious role, he told me I was gifted and perfect for it, then drove me to the casting himself.”

“What went wrong?” Molly’s heart ached at the poignant emotion in every one of Kathleen’s words.

A brittle shrug. “I walked into his hotel room after a concert and found him screwing a groupie.”

Molly had known something bad was coming, but hadn’t expected anything this brutal. “God, Kit, I’m so sorry.”

“The worst thing was,” Kathleen added, eyes shining wet, “I’d been to see him after three previous gigs. He’d cleared it so the hotels would give me a keycard.” She blinked rapidly as if to stave off tears. “We’d always do the same thing—order room service and watch an old movie together on the couch. The bastard knew I’d be coming in.”

Molly wanted to hug the other woman, hurting for her, but Kathleen wasn’t finished. Her fingers gripping her coffee cup so tight that her bones pushed white against the golden bronze of her skin, she said, “I got the message loud and clear. Fox ran into me as I was leaving, took one look at my face and wrapped me in his arms while I cried.”

Kathleen put down her cup on the small counter that held the coffeemaker, flexed her fingers. “That’s when I knew he was a friend I wouldn’t give up, even if it meant I had to see Noah at times.” Breathing deep, she straightened her shoulders and finished her coffee before shaking her head. “I can’t believe I actually told you that. It was the worst moment of my life.”

“Maybe Maxwell’s voodoo is rubbing off on me,” Molly said, sensing the other woman had had enough of heavy emotion for now.

Kathleen’s laugh was surprised, the strain around her mouth easing. “I think it is.” She held out her empty coffee cup. “Please? I think this is a two-coffee morning.”

Molly had just pulled the second cup from the machine when Fox walked through the door, a bakery box in hand. Pushing off the hood of an old college sweatshirt he hadn’t been wearing when he left the suite, he put the box on the counter and dragged Molly in for an unhurried and thorough kiss that made her toes curl and Kathleen whistle.

Releasing her after a smiling nibble of her lower lip, he went over to hug Kathleen with the familiarity of long friendship. Even knowing there had never been anything sexual between the two, Molly found herself envious, because she and Fox, they were still so young, so new. She wanted the stone, the permanent foundations that’d take them through life.

“You weasel.” Kathleen elbowed Fox in the gut. “You told Noah my room number.”

Fox winced, stepped out of reach. “Jeez, Kit, I know better. He probably charmed it out of a desk clerk.” Returning to Molly, he reached back to pull off the sweatshirt to reveal his white T-shirt.

“Where did you get the sweatshirt?” Molly asked as he threw it over the back of one of the dining chairs. “And where’s your Lakers cap?” He adored that cap, treated it like it was an irreplaceable jewel.

“My extra non-signed Lakers cap is on the head of a busboy who’s around my height, and who is currently riding around in my limo,” Fox said, opening the bakery box. “My real cap is safe and sound in the bedroom. As if I’d ever wear that where someone might try to rip it off for a souvenir.”

“Obviously.” Molly tapped him on the nose. “So silly of me not to realize you had a spare decoy cap.”

“Not one,” Kathleen whispered. “He has a crate full of them.”

Fox shrugged and bit into a powdered donut. “When something becomes a trademark, you can use it to throw the hounds off the scent.” He rubbed his bristled jaw with his free hand. “Though I don’t know where I’m going to find extra Mollys so I can sneak out with my Molly through the service entrance.”

My Molly.

Her heart did a flip. “So I’m going to become a trademark?”

“So much they’ll give us one of those stupid joint names.”

“Folly?” Kathleen suggested, already halfway through a donut of her own, the raspberry silk of her top dusted with sugar.

“Good thing you don’t write lyrics.” Fox scowled. “Folly? Are you serious?”

 “You do better.”

Grabbing a chocolate-glazed donut instead, Fox put it to Molly’s lips. “Taste this.”

She did, groaned. “You’re forbidden from bringing these anywhere near my vicinity except on very, very special occasions.”

“Yeah.” Kathleen sighed, fingers waving over the box as she deliberated her next pick. “This’ll cost an extra four hours in the gym with Macho Steve, the Evil Personal Trainer, but oh baby, every minute will be worth it.”

“Four hours?” Molly swallowed her second bite of the delicious treat, Fox taking great pleasure in refusing to give her the donut so he could feed it to her himself. “You’re tiny!” An entire box of donuts wouldn’t make any impact on Kathleen’s sleek frame.

“I live in the land of make-believe, sweetie.” Kathleen licked at the pink glaze of her donut. “You can never be too rich, too skinny, or too famous.”

Thinking of the ugly comments on the elevator photo, Molly knew the other woman wasn’t exaggerating. “You are being healthy though?” she asked, worried. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

Distinctive amber eyes widened. “Yes, I eat a healthy diet and I exercise—I don’t throw up or starve myself.” A strange hesitancy to her, Kathleen said, “Thank you for caring enough to ask. Not many people would.”

It made Molly aware once more of how many layers those around her kept between themselves and others. Kathleen called her a friend, trusted her enough to share some of her past, but didn’t expect Molly to care about so simple and important a thing as her health. True friendship, the kind Molly had with Charlotte, would take far longer to form.

And a lasting relationship, Molly thought, her eyes on the rock star who teased her he’d trade kisses for donuts, would take strength and commitment enough to stand against everything the world would throw at them.

That battle began with a vengeance the next afternoon, when they returned home. A phalanx of photographers had camped at the gate to the house, flashes going off in a blinding staccato as they attempted to capture Molly’s image through the closed windows of the SUV. A grim-faced Fox ignored them to nudge the car forward, and when one of the photographers stepped brazenly in front of the car, blasted the horn and kept going.

The man stumbled out of bumper range barely in time, falling backward onto his colleagues, his gestures turning rude as the gates closed behind the vehicle. The police arrived less than ten minutes later.

“One of them”—the senior cop jerked his thumb over a beefy shoulder—“wants to file a complaint. Says you tried to run him over.”

Swearing, Fox invited the officers into the house and, using a laptop, accessed surveillance footage from the gate. It showed the photographer in question stepping in front of the car on purpose.

The cop rubbed his face. “All right. You want to press charges?”

“No. It’s exactly the kind of publicity the piece of shit is looking for.” Pitiless words, but Fox’s voice was calm. “They’ve already got photos of your black-and-white coming through the gates. Fuck knows what story they’ll spin from it.”

“Still,” the cop said, “I’ll have a talk with him, see if I can dissuade him from pulling a stunt like this again.”

“Thanks, but it won’t do any good. The roaches always rise again.” Closing the door after the police left, Fox slammed his fist against the wood not once but twice.

“Fox!” Molly grabbed his hand, saw broken skin. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

“Leave it.” Pulling away, he strode past her. “I need to be alone.”

Chapter 30

Already shaken by the scene at the gate and the resulting police visit, Molly felt every word as if it were a blow. Fox had never rejected her touch that way. Feeling lost, she made her way to her favorite spot by the pool and took out her phone. “Charlie?” she said when her best friend picked up on the other end. “Can you talk?” Her voice wobbled despite her best efforts to keep her emotions contained.

“I can always talk when you sound like that.” A rustling, as if Charlotte was moving around. “Give me a sec to make sure we won’t be disturbed.” Her best friend was back on the line before Molly could begin to worry about having interrupted her at work. “Okay, what’s the matter? Are you still freaked out about that photo?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Good. Because I’ve decided to have it framed and put on the back of my front door. It’s what I aspire to every day—looking smoking hot while a sexy, sexy man puts his hands on me.”

Smiling through the shakiness—no doubt as Charlotte intended—Molly said, “Are you saying that to wind up T-Rex?”

“He’s not here. Away in Taupo to finalize a property purchase for his personal portfolio—I swear, the man wants to own the entire country,” she said, and Molly could almost see her rolling her eyes. “So, talk. What’s happened?”

As Molly and Charlotte spoke, she thought back to the start of her relationship with Fox, when she’d worried about his ability to contain things within while appearing as if nothing was the matter on the surface… and realized she’d never come up against that roadblock.

He trusted her, let her see him.

The knots in her spine began to unravel at the realization. He would, she was certain, share the reason for the depth of his anger once he’d calmed down. But hours passed, and Fox remained in his studio, not even coming up for dinner. Until, for the first time since they’d decided on a relationship, Molly faced the prospect of going to bed alone.

“Enough,” she said and, pulling on the robe of opulent black silk that Fox had bought her in New York, the fabric decadent against her skin, walked downstairs. The red light over the studio door was on, but Molly turned the handle and stepped inside.

Fox looked up with a scowl from where he was listening to something via headphones, his guitar propped up against the wall. Sliding the headphones down to his neck, he said, “Molly, you know you’re not supposed to walk in when the light’s red.”

She propped her hip against the complex control panel, lights blinking across the board and waves of sound charted on the built-in computer. “You’ve been down here for hours.”

“I’m working.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he took the headphones totally off and put them on the table to his left. “Sometimes I spend days in here. Get used to it.”

It was the way he said the last that had her eyes narrowing. “Fine”—she folded her arms—“then you should get used to a woman who cares about you. You missed dinner.”

“I’m hardly going to fade away.” Legs sprawled out and eyes glittering, he said, “Go to bed. I’ll be up when I’m done.”

“You’re done now.”

Rising to his feet in a sudden movement that sent her heart into her throat, he pressed up against her, hands on the panel on either side. “You don’t want to be with me in this mood, baby. Get upstairs, now.”

Molly reached between them to tug open the knot of her robe instead, letting the lush fabric slide off to pool on the panel, her body nude in his arms. Fox’s own body reacted as it always did to her, as hers did to him, but his eyes continued to glitter. “Using sex to get your own way?” It was a hard question, his hand thrusting between her legs.

Already wet for him, she gasped and gripped at his shoulders. But he withdrew his hand and returned to sit in the chair, undoing his jeans just enough to release his cock. “Come here, then. Fuck me.” A crude challenge.

If there was one thing she’d learned with Fox, it was to be confident about her sexuality. The man wanted her, and even in his anger, he made no effort to hide it, his cock rigid, the vein that ran along the bottom plump with blood. Nudging aside his hand where he gripped the base, she straddled him and used her own fingers to guide him inside her molten core.

His fingers dug into her hips as she sank down to take him to the hilt, his head thrown back. Kissing his throat, she didn’t ride him but began to squeeze her inner muscles in a rhythmic pulse.

“What the—” His breath hissed. “Where did you learn that?” It was a dangerous question.

“I like to read.” Licking along the tendon on one side of his neck, she scraped her teeth over his jaw, kissed her way up to play with his lip ring. “I read the Kama Sutra. Along with a number of very educational erotic romances.”

Gritting his teeth, he ground her down onto him. “The practical application?”

“I guess you’ll have to be my crash-test dummy. Now sit back”—she pulsed her muscles in a faster rhythm—“and take it.”

The words that came out of his mouth were so blue she blushed even in the midst of the eroticism. Then she loved him, pushing up his T-shirt to pay exquisite attention to the flat disks of his nipples with her fingers and her mouth as she used her inner muscles to torment and pleasure him. And the kisses, so many kisses. All of them raw, deep, audaciously sexual.

The orgasm seemed ripped out of him, a quick and violent and merciless thing.

Chest heaving in the aftermath, he lay back, eyes heavy-lidded and hands possessive. When she leaned in to kiss him again, he took control with sated laziness, one of his hands rising to her nape to position her exactly as he liked.

Molly shivered, and this time when her muscles clenched on his cock, it wasn’t on purpose. Semi-hard, he remained inside her as they kissed for long, long minutes, the material of his T-shirt rubbing against her nipples to leave them pouting. Rolling one with the fingers of his free hand, Fox tugged, then flicked his thumbnail against it.

She felt her body coat him in a slickness that only increased when he went for her throat. He hadn’t shaved today, and the stubble scraped over her skin with a coarseness at odds with the wet heat of his mouth. Moving restlessly on him, she wove her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.

“You like that?” More lazy kisses, his head rising from her throat.

“Yes,” she said, as he ran his finger down the line of her throat. “Take off your T-shirt, please.”

“Hmm.” Using his grip on her nape to bring her forward, he claimed another kiss, his lips firm, his touch that of a man who knew his lover would permit him anything. “I don’t think a bad girl who interrupts my work should get what she wants.”

“You weren’t working.” She bit down on his lower lip hard enough to sting. “You were brooding.”

Slits of dangerous green watched her from behind lowered lashes. “Brooding?”

It was a purr that dared her to repeat the accusation, but Molly wasn’t about to be intimidated, even by her rock star. “Brooding.”

Dipping his head, he tugged one sensitive nipple between his teeth, licking his tongue over and over it until she tried to rock her body on his. He held her down. “No,” he said, freeing her nipple with a last leisurely lick. “I think it’s time I reminded you I like to be in charge.”

Skin tight at the sinful warning, Molly played her fingers over his lips. “I’ve never forgotten.” Kissing him her way, softness and heat and tenderness, she stroked both hands under his T-shirt to push it up again, hot skin over steely muscle beneath her touch. “Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of you when you need it.”

This time he helped her get the black material off over his head. Dropping it to the floor, he sat up so she could press her breasts flush against him. “Did you think I needed some Molly-time?”

She heard the thaw in him, and it did things to her to know she had the power to reach him even through such stormy anger. If she hadn’t been able to deal with Fox’s temper, they’d have had a serious problem—but she could… because despite everything, he let her in. “Yes.” Kissing the side of his neck, she luxuriated in the feel of him around her. “I needed you, too. The sheets are cold without you.”

 “Out comes the truth,” Fox said, though Molly had just smashed right through his defenses to lay him bare. “You only want me for my body heat.”

“Of course.”

Running his fingers down the cleft of her buttocks to where she stretched so tight around his renewed erection, he watched in possessive pleasure as she arched her body back against the panel. The position thrust up her breasts and he took full advantage, grazing his teeth over the lower curves, rubbing his jaw against her delicate skin.

“You’ve soaked my jeans,” he murmured to his Molly, who’d fought for him exactly as she’d promised, who hadn’t flinched or looked away when the going got hard. “That reminds me—it’s been a couple of days since I’ve licked you up.”

“I have been feeling a bit neglected,” she said on a rasp of breath.

“Poor pretty baby.” Careful of her sensitized flesh, he shifted her gently until she was reclining fully on the part of the panel that had no raised switches. Creamy and lush, she was a work of art, one for his personal and very private perusal. “Did you know I have video recording equipment in here?”

Molly’s chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. “What?”

“Yeah, sometimes it helps to watch the way my fingers move on the strings.” He rocked into her to her soft moan. “Maybe I should turn it on—it might help me refine my technique to watch my fingers move on you.”

Molly’s spine arched up in a sweet curve, her body caressing his in a rush of liquid heat.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and used his forefinger to stroke the slippery nub of her clit exactly as his Molly liked.

Giving a shocked little cry, she came a second time.

“I think,” he murmured after her eyes opened, her body honey in his arms, “you like the idea of making your own sex tape.” He loved how she always cuddled up against him after sex, his personal armful of woman. “Naughty Molly.”

“We are not making a sex tape.” It was a breathless warning. “The next thing you know, it’ll be on the Internet.”

“What if I promise to erase it after a thorough viewing to review my technique?”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

 “I love it when you blush.” The pink flush made him want to taste, and because she was his, he leaned down and laved his tongue over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to practice my technique on you.”

He would’ve touched her again between the legs, but she pushed away his hand. “Too sensitive.”

Shifting his hand to her thigh instead, he petted her slow and easy until she didn’t repudiate his next caress of her clit. He kept each stroke featherlight, his kisses on her throat unhurried, building a song, note by carefully chosen note, until her body reached the right melody.

“My beautiful Molly.” Who had fought for him.

Putting together some food after their sexual play, Molly took the plate out to where Fox sprawled at the table by the pool. He’d changed into the cutoff sweatpants he often wore while exercising, his upper body gleaming under the moonlight, the sky midnight blue and scattered with stars.

“I like this robe,” he murmured, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger when she put the food on the table. “I like what’s inside it even more.” His hand lightly cupping her breast, he drew her down for a kiss that felt as affectionate as it was sensual.

Body and heart both melting at the way he touched her, Molly took a seat opposite him, sipping at a cup of chocolate-mint tea while he cleared his plate. “More?” she asked, but he shook his head, his expression unreadable. “What’s wrong?”

“Come sit in my lap.”

Having missed him all day, she didn’t hesitate to obey the order.

“Thanks,” he said, his hand on the bare skin of her thigh.

“For cuddling?” She kissed his jaw. “Careful or your bad boy image will never recover.”

“No, smart-ass.” A squeeze of her hip. “For caring enough to hunt me down.” He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “Kinda nice to know you’ll come knocking if I go into a bad place.”

Molly hurt for him that he hadn’t expected his “girl” to come knocking. It told her far more about the damage done to him in childhood than any other words he could’ve spoken. “I don’t know what your definition is of a relationship,” she said, her tone gentle, “but mine includes not ignoring it when something’s clearly eating at you.”

Sitting up so she could look him in the eye, she stroked his nape. “Why did you blow up this afternoon? Talk to me.”

“If I don’t?” The balmy night breeze blew a few strands of darkest brown across his face, the moment capturing his wildness and rough male beauty so exquisitely she wished she had a camera.

“If you clam up”—she put on a severe expression—“I’ll just have to tie you down and torture you with nefarious tricks until you spill.”

The barest hint of a smile. “Nefarious tricks, huh? Give me details.”

“Never.” Tracing his jaw as she became aware he was absently tapping music against her thigh, she said, “You know how you’re so protective?”

A gathering scowl. “You complaining?”

 “I was going to say I feel the same way about you.” It scared her how much he meant to her, but that fear stood no chance against the visceral power of the love in her heart. “Let me take care of you, too.”

The silent music went still.