Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Pres had been right,she realized the next week when they were on the small stage in the corner of the bar. Starting their set with a fast song had been the right thing to do. The floor was full of people – locals and fans who’d traveled to watch Altered Reality’s comeback gig. And they were all on the dance floor, their bodies swaying, their voices moving as they sang in time.
Cassie’s heartbeat was thumping to the sound of Marley’s drums.
There was a sense of expectation as the song came to an end, and she started to wonder if they should have segued into another fast hit. They had enough of them. And Presley always took the lead with the fast songs, while she could kind of hide behind the keyboard and sing the harmonies when needed.
But not the next song. No, this one required her to step into the light. And she should want that, right?
She’d yearned for it as a dancer. And sure, half of that yearning came from a desire to please her mom. But still, it was what she was trained for. So she squared her shoulders and grabbed the wireless mic stand, carrying it over to the front as Presley smiled at the audience.
“We’re gonna take it down a notch,” he told them in a low voice. “This is a new one. Hope you like it.”
He looked down at his guitar, his lashes sweeping as he moved his fingers to form the first chord. A sudden memory of how rough they’d felt against her soft skin washed over her.
Then he strummed and glanced at her, his eyes heavy lidded and she felt it.
The electricity. The need.
The pulse between her legs.
“You walked toward me, your body full of grace,
The wind in your hair, the sun on your face,
Your lips full of promises you never meant to keep
Your eyes empty of the tears you would later weep,”
She loved how gritty his voice was. How he stared at her like she was that woman. The one he couldn’t stop loving. The one who betrayed him but he’d take back anyway.
“I danced to your tune, in your delicate embrace
You were lost in the moment, in your time and space
Your words always felt like petals, fragile and sweet
Yet in the silence, it felt like my final defeat…”
They’d got to the bridge. Marley’s drum’s kicked in, a thud of a heartbeat that added to the pain of the music. Pres was strumming louder now. Alex was, too. She felt the rush of blood thumping through her veins as they reached the crescendo.
“You told me that you loved me,
Your lips knew it was a lie,
You said you’d never leave me,
Then every touch was a goodbye,
You ripped my heart and crushed it,
And you laughed at all my pain,
So don’t come around here asking for more
Because I won’t let you in again…”
Their voices meshed so perfectly it was like a shiver down her spine. This was what she loved about singing with him. It wasn’t just about their voices, or the lyrics. It was about feeling it, living it. Right now, they were lovers who tore each other apart again and again.
And damn, they’d have good make up sex. So good it made her skin heat up.
Pres walked out from behind his mic, toward her, his fingers still strumming. He was so close she could feel the heat of his skin, smell the heady mix of his cologne and sweat, as he leaned in to sing with her into her mic.
Calling her baby. Telling her she was the only one who knew how to cut his heart out with her bare hands. And his eyes were still on her. She couldn’t look away.
She sang that he’d broken her. Left her lying on the floor. That she was a dead woman without his love.
And then the music slowed again. Into his final vocals. She stepped back to give him space, but he nodded at the mic, the smallest of smiles playing at his lips.
He wanted her to sing the last lines, too. Which wasn’t what they’d rehearsed. But the audience was captured by them, swaying, singing along even though they didn’t know the words. She moistened her lip with her tongue and gave him a slight nod before they moved in together, their voices meshing, dancing.
Making the kind of music that made her heart throb.
This was better than dancing. It might even be better than sex, though she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that singing with Presley Hartson felt like she was riding a permanent wave. One that made her muscles clench and desire rush through her body.
And she wasn’t sure she’d survive the rest of the set.
Pres leaned into the mic, his heart slamming against his chest. “We’re gonna take a twenty minute break. Go buy some beer, kiss your girl, do whatever you can do in twenty minutes. Then come back, because we have more songs for you.”
He flicked off his microphone and pulled his guitar over his head. Sweat was dripping off him and he had to grab a towel to dry his face.
“Fucking A,” Alex said. “We’ve got them in the palm of our hands.” His eyes were bright. Maybe too bright. Alex had been known in the past for using drugs to get him going. Pres hoped to God he wasn’t now.
That’s not what he wanted the band to be known for. He had a kid to think of.
Marley grinned at him as he climbed down from the drum set. “You were amazing.”
“Cassie was the one that carried us,” he murmured, looking over at the keyboard. But she wasn’t there.
He frowned.
“We need to record ‘Beautiful Liar’,” Alex said. “Put it up on YouTube or something. It was fucking electric. Did you see the crowd?”
“It’s a second song,” Pres murmured, and Marley laughed.
“But what a fucking second song.”
He looked over at the keyboard again. Then across the stage. There was no sign of her. “Where did Cassie go?”
Marley followed the line of his gaze. “I don’t know. She okay?”
Pres wasn’t sure, that was the truth of it. Something happened while they were singing. He wasn’t sure what it was. And he wasn’t sure he could put it into words even if he knew. But it was there and it was in him.
Like electricity, you couldn’t see it or taste it. But damn, it was powerful.
“I think she went outside,” Alex said. “Through the back.” He inclined his head at the emergency exit to the right of the stage. “Want me to go get her?”
“No.” Pres said it a little too fast. Alex blinked. “I’ll get her. Maybe she messed up a vocal or something. I can talk her through it.”
“She didn’t mess anything up,” Marley said.
And no, she didn’t. But he needed an excuse and that was it. “I’ll be back in a minute. Can you grab me a soda or something?”
“They have non alcoholic beer,” Marley told him.
“Then that’ll work.”
He put his guitar against the stand and walked to the edge of the stage, jumping down onto the floor. It took him a couple of minutes to make it outside, mostly thanks to fans and friends wanting to tell him how good they’d sounded, and how much they’d missed the band.
When he pushed the emergency door open a little alarm sounded, but he ignored it, stepping out into the sultry night. There’d been no rain since the last storm they’d had, and the ground beneath him was dusty and dry. He looked around, taking in the few smokers and the late arrivals, before stalking around the corner to the back of the bar.
And there she was.
Leaning against the brick wall of the building, her head lifted as she stared up at the moon. The light of it caught her face, illuminating her profile so that she looked almost other-worldly.
She was wearing a pair of cut off shorts and a black Fleetwood Mac tank, that she’d knotted at the front. Her hair was long and wavy, tumbling down over her shoulders.
He wanted her like he’d never wanted anything else.
And yeah, he knew it was the effects of the performance. It was a drug like no other – he’d forgotten how potent it was.
But his body didn’t care. It needed what it needed.
His jaw was tight as he walked into her view.
Her lips parted as she saw him. Her gaze was as foggy as his. Yeah, she had the high, too.
It was intoxicating.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly.
She nodded. “I…” Her breasts rose as she took a deep breath. “That was something, huh?”
“You were something, yeah.”
The corner of her lip tilted. “So were you.”
He stepped closer, like he didn’t have a choice. Her eyes darkened, her chest still rising and falling with her breath. She reached out, her fingers touching his arm, and it took him a moment to realize she was tracing one of his tattoos.
He knew which one. The heart with the barbed wire around it.
“If you keep touching me…”
“What?” she asked breathily, her eyes flicking to his.
“Then I’ll touch you back.”
Her lips curled more, like it was the kind of threat she wanted. “No you won’t.”
“Won’t I?” he asked. Her fingertip was tracing circles along his skin now. It felt maddeningly good. But not enough. Not anywhere near.
“No. Because you’re like this tattoo. Closed in. You can’t escape.”
He leaned closer. He could see the individual colors of her hair strands, lifting in the breeze. “I’m not the one caged in right now.”
“Maybe I want to be caged in. Maybe I want you to break me out.”
He dropped his brow to hers. “You don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re light and I’m dark. I’ll ruin you.”
Her fingers feathered up his arm, his neck, until her hand was cupping his jaw. This close to her he could feel the difference in their heights. In their weights.
Their power.
He was stronger. Bigger. Could hurt her without trying.
And damn, he didn’t want to hurt her.
“It’s just the music, you know?” he whispered. “We’re just playing the roles the lyrics tell us to.”
Her fingertips brushed the back of his neck and it made him shiver. And he couldn’t stop himself anymore. He’d tried, damn it. But she was so soft and sweet and everything his body wanted.
His mouth crashed against hers.
Blood pumped through his body as she kissed him back, her fingernails scraping against his neck, her body arched into his. He was hard, throbbing, aching for her. He slid his hand down her neck to her breasts, cupping them, feeling the peak of her nipple pressing against his palm.
She was hungry for him. He could tell that much. The same way he was starving for her. They’d sung to each other for the last forty-five minutes. They’d loved each other, they’d hated each other, they’d yearned, and they’d pretty much made love on the stage.
But this, the touching, the kissing, the feeling…
It was like liquid adrenaline straight to the heart.
She was grinding against his leg, her breath rapid against his lips. He slid his hands down her body and she let out an achy sigh.
And when he cupped her between her legs, his palm pressing where she felt like she needed it, blood rushed to his groin.
God, she was warm. Hot. She let out a sigh against his mouth. He moved his hand, using the heel of his palm against her, his mouth moving against hers with the same, needy rhythm.
Her thighs tightened around his hand. Her breath coming in short bursts. Like little punches. She was clinging onto him like he was the rock and the storm.
And all he could think about was making her come. He was so hard it hurt, but he didn’t press himself against her. He needed this to be about her.
Needed her pleasure.
Needed the release of it so he could fucking think straight again.
Her back arched against the brick wall, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he took her to the edge. She let out a soft cry, his mouth swallowing it as he kissed her, her whole body stiffening with pleasure as he took her to the peak.
She was shaking, her thighs so tight he could barely move his hand, her head slumping against his shoulder as she orgasmed against his palm.
“Oh my God. Presley...”
Her eyes were shining, her cheeks pink. Her lips looked like they’d been stung. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Or felt so wrong.
What was up with him? Why did he keep doing this? It was like the worst kind of addiction.
He opened his mouth to say sorry, but it would have been a lie. He wasn’t anywhere near sorry. He would have done it again.
Would have done anything to feel her come against him.
“Pres?”
The two of them jumped at Alex’s voice. Cassie looked at him, her eyes wide.
“You okay?” he asked her. Because they had about five seconds before Alex walked around the corner. She touched her hair, as though checking that it wasn’t a complete mess.
“I’m fine.” She didn’t sound it.
He took a step back, taking a deep breath. “We’re here,” he called out.
Alex rounded the corner, his brow lifting when he saw them. “Your drinks are on the stage. We got you a beer, Cassie.”
“Thank you,” she said, but her eyes were still on Presley’s. Like she wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she liked it.
And fuck if he hadn’t liked it too.
They hadn’t been alone again. And maybe that was a good thing because she had no damn idea what just happened.
You came on Presley Hartson’s hand.
Her cheeks flamed. Because that was the truth. The man barely had to touch and kiss her before she’d imploded with pleasure. Yes, some of it was the adrenaline from the gig, but most of it was him.
The man knew how to touch her to bring her pleasure. Understood that she’d needed pressure, movement.
Him.
Oh God, she needed to stop thinking about this and concentrate on singing.
Despite her turmoil, the second half of the gig went just as well as the first. The applause and stomping of feet had gone on until they’d come on for one final song, then the crowd had slowly drifted away as they packed up their instruments and the guys had started carrying them to the van.
She’d tried to help but they’d all waved her off. So she’d watched as they easily hefted the heavy cases. Okay, she’d mostly watched Presley.
The man was born to perform, that much was clear. His grouchy persona just worked, along with his thick, rough voice and the slight air of menace that accompanied him wherever he went.
And then you let him make you come.
And her whole body was still on fire because of it.
“Okay then,” Marley said, pulling up outside of her house. He was driving and Presley was up front with him, leaving her and Alex in the back. Thankfully, Alex was mostly snoozing, leaving her to her thoughts. “Here you go, Cassie.”
She pulled the door open. Their instruments were all in the back, but Marley and Pres would unload them back at the studio. “Thanks for a good evening,” she said, looking back at them.
Pres caught her eye but said nothing. Like he knew she was talking about more than the gig.
“You were amazing,” Marley said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Discuss next steps. But I think we can all say tonight was a success.”
“Wha?” Alex blinked his eyes open. “Oh, we’re here.”
“Want me to walk you to your door?” Presley asked, ignoring him.
“No, it’s fine.” Truth was, she couldn’t stand to be close to him and not touch him. And something about his demeanor told her there wouldn’t be a repeat of that kiss. Not tonight.
She grabbed her jacket and her bag and jumped down from the cab, walking up the driveway to her little house. When she got to the door she slid the key in and waved to them.
Alex and Marley waved back. Presley just nodded.
As soon as she stepped inside she let out a long breath. Tonight was… interesting. And electrifying. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep, which wasn’t great because tomorrow was Saturday and she had classes most of the day.
She dropped her bag on the floor and hung up her jacket before heading straight upstairs. The heat of the bar still clung to her, so she shucked the rest of her clothes off and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower.
The warm spray on her body felt like heaven. She tipped her head back, feeling the spray dousing her face. Her eyes were closed and all she could see behind them was Presley.
His intense stare as she’d spasmed against him. The way his voice hit those low, aching notes during the gig. She let out a long breath and moved her hands to her chest, slowly cupping her breasts, remembering how hard his body had felt against hers. How demanding his lips were.
How good his hand felt.
She moved her own hand down, between her thighs, feeling the slickness of her desire. She pressed her finger where she needed it most, her mouth parted as she circled once, then twice, imagining it was his fingers.
His lips.
Her thighs were shaking. All of her was. Behind the curtain of her eyelids she saw him walking into the shower, as naked as she was. Seeing her hand between her legs and lifting a brow.
“Let’s get one thing straight. Nobody touches you but me.”
She’d seen enough of his body through the drenched t-shirt he’d been wearing tonight to know the thick hardness of his chest muscles, the plane of his abdomen dipping into that low v.
He wouldn’t be gentle. She knew that much from the way he’d gotten her off. And maybe she craved that. Craved the roughness of him. The raw need that she’d seen in his eyes.
Her breath caught as she pictured him lifting her the way he had at his house, pressing her against the shower tiles and thrusting in.
He was big. She knew that much too. He’d fill her until she was breathless. Until the pleasure coiled in her stomach, the same way it was coiling now.
With her other hand, she pinched her nipple. Hard and rough, like him. And then she felt it. The tightness. The darkness before the dawn.
“Presley…” His name caught in her throat as she came, her body tightening around her fingers, her legs barely able to keep her upright. She contracted again and again, leaning against the tile so she didn’t fall, imagining him kissing her through her orgasm, his face tender.
Loving.
And when it was over she felt her cheeks flush. Dear God, what was wrong with her? Yes, there was some kind of connection there, some kind of raw attraction that she felt to the deepest of her bones. But he’d made it clear that was all it was. From the way he’d apologized for the kiss to the way he’d so easily replied to Alex a few seconds after making her come.
He was complicated, and maybe a little broken. And he didn’t want her, apart from in her imagination.
“So stop it,” she whispered to herself, grabbing the shampoo because she needed to get clean and go to bed. “It’s not going to happen. And it shouldn’t.”
It was time to wash that man right out of her hair.