My problem was solved when the door flew open. I was so shocked that I fell backward directly onto my butt.
Great.
Now angry piano pounder was going to have something to hold over me — not only was I eavesdropping but I had fallen on my guilty ass.
“S-sorry,” I said in a quiet voice, trying to scramble to my feet.
“For?” the guy asked. His voice was deep and smooth.
I looked up.
He was smiling at me. At me? Why was he smiling? Oh. He was probably trying not to laugh. I pushed down the embarrassment as much as I could and gave him a weak smile back. “I didn’t mean to, um…” I pointed at the door and shrugged. I was still sitting on the floor, like a kindergartner at magic carpet time or something.
“Spy?” His eyes narrowed but his smile stayed. He was beautiful. With dark brown hair that fell just below his ears. His white t-shirt was stretched across a broad, muscled chest. Tattoos covered every square inch of skin on both arms.
“Yeah,” I croaked, nearly choking on that one word as I felt a burning blush spread across my body. I tugged at the corners of my sweatshirt and cursed the fact that I’d thought wearing boots was a good idea. I was officially sweltering…
“No problem.” He held out his hand. Confused as to why he was being so nice when about five seconds ago his playing made it sound like he was getting ready to commit some sort of crime, I examined his hand before taking it. Tattoos and some weird inscription covered a few of his fingers. With a frustrated sigh, I grabbed his hand and let him pull me to my feet.
His blue eyes were so bright and lined by really dark eyelashes. I swear it almost looked like he was wearing eyeliner, but I knew he wasn’t. His eyes were just that beautiful. I’d never seen someone so good-looking up close before. The longer I stared at him the less sense it made. At first glance, all I saw were tattoos covering his arms. Now? I wish I had looked away, because in that moment, I couldn’t. His eyes pierced through me, nailing my body to the wall, holding me captive until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. They were the type of eyes that made you want to either confess your sins, or give in to them. I blinked a few times, hoping to break the connection that was slowly stealing every ounce of self-preservation I had, and finally was able to look away.
“Thanks for helping me up, and again, I’m sorry for all of that…” I waved into the air and walked to the other side of the hall to my own practice room and away from the dangerously sexy tattooed guy with the bright blue eyes.
“You play?” he asked as my hand grazed the door to the other room.
“Piano.” I refused to turn around and get caught in his gaze again. As it was, my hand was shaking over the knob. Give me five more minutes and my knees would be knocking together too. Holy crap! I needed to get out more.
“You good?” His voice was smooth, clear. My musical side immediately surged with curiosity. Did he sing other genres? Opera? Classically trained? Was he a new teacher or something? His voice was extremely smooth. He’d said less than ten words to me and I was still thinking about the tone of his voice. The way it seemed to warm me up from the inside out — yeah, I needed to get more sleep, because in that moment I was ready to swoon because of his eyes and voice.
My fingers tapped against the doorknob as I thought about my answer.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“Yeah,” I snapped a bit harshly and turned around, trying to give him my best glare when really the effect he still had on me was downright irritating. “I am.”
He laughed, throwing his head back as the sound echoed down the empty hall. “So you do have a personality. Good to know.”
My eyes narrowed. I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted me.
“Don’t ruin my fun by actually defending yourself. You a band geek?”
“Band geek,” I repeated. Where did he come up with that? Did a time machine just transport me back to high school or something? Who even said that anymore?
He nodded toward my sweatshirt.
I looked down. Sure enough it was an old high school band sweatshirt. Really, Saylor? I was wearing the ugliest grey sweatshirt I owned. And, kill me now.
“Sure.” I croaked. “I mean, I used to be, but—”
“Thought so.” He nodded. “Want to know how I can tell?”
“I need to practice.” I changed the subject and pointed back to my room. I was about ten seconds away from screaming at the top of my lungs. Though I wasn’t sure if it was out of terror or something else — something that made my heart beat just a little bit faster and my palms start to sweat.
He stalked — not walked — toward me until he was inches from my face. “You scream innocence. Twenty bucks says you practice at least six hours a day, go to bed at nine p.m., and really think you can make it in the big bad world by majoring in piano performance.” His lips curled into a mocking grin. “Daddy bought you everything you could have ever wanted, including the pink pony you probably still have in your room. Trophies line your walls, and the last time you even wore a color as scandalous as red was when you were alone in your room trying to see what it would look like on your tan skin. You think guys like me are trouble and by the looks of it — as much as you want to push me away — you want more…” He lowered his voice to a seductive pitch and I found myself leaning toward him so I could hear. “…you crave more.”
Speechless, I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or slap him across his gorgeous face. Was he serious? Where did he get off saying that to me? A complete stranger? Clearly something was stuck up his ass, and I was about ready to tell him where he could stick that something, but I was too late.
Had I known that any contact from this beautiful stranger would forever change me — would mark me for the rest of my life, wreck me from the inside out, completely break me down until I was nothing but a memory of who I used to be — I would still have made the same choice.
Funny, how people always say they want second chances, yet had I been given one. I would have traveled down the same road. Every. Single. Time.
His mouth crashed against mine in a blur — hot lips pressed, sealed themselves into my memory until all I could think about was the hot slick wetness of his mouth and how every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire from his touch.
He pushed me against the wall, bracing himself with his hands on either side of my head. I’d kissed guys before — none of them had ever kissed me like the gorgeous stranger was kissing me. I didn’t know where to put my hands. I pressed against his chest, which just seemed to encourage him more as his tongue dipped into my mouth.
I pushed harder against him. His hands plunged into my hair.
I squeaked when his hands moved my shoulders — his palms burning a hole through not only my defenses, but my excuses for pushing him away.
His mouth was hot as it pressed harder, his tongue doing things I didn’t know tongues could do. All I could feel was him — I was on fire as his chest met mine. A loud bang clamored in my ears.
The beautiful stranger pulled back his eyes a blaze of fury. If I was scared before — I was petrified now. He looked like he wanted to kill me — and I didn’t mean that in a joking sense. I was actually scared. Well, I was both scared and extremely shocked — let’s just say it was a tie.
In an instant his dark look disappeared as if he’d just put on a Halloween mask and a smile returned to his gorgeous face. With a chuckle he spoke quietly, mockingly, “You’re welcome.”
Pretty sure I looked like I was about to stab him with something sharp because he laughed harder and backed up to his side of the hall. “Whoa, you’re more feisty than I give you credit for — and the proper response is ‘thank you’.” He gave a little bow. Holy crap, I was going to murder him with my bare hands.
“For assaulting me?” I squeaked. “You want me to thank you for assaulting me?”
He winked. “Not assault if you beg me for it.”
“Beg?” I repeated. “I begged to
get sexually harassed?” I marched over to him and pushed against his chest. “Tell me, was it the band geek assumption that got you hot or the fact that you know just by looking at me that I have a pink pony hiding in my room.” I rolled my eyes and stepped back. “You were wrong you know.”
“About what?” he whispered, his bright eyes slipping back into darkness.
“The pony.” I looked back and lifted my chin. “It was purple and it’s not in my room back home.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows lifted.
“Yeah.” I narrowed my eyes and imagined tripping him down the stairs. “It’s in my dorm, you ass.”
With one final look that gave me shivers down to my toes, he gave me a nod and walked down the hall, “See you later, Pony.”
“Bye, asshat.” I called. “And thank you.”
He froze.
I should have stopped talking. Normally I would have stopped talking. Crap! I never spoke out of turn or talked back. But something about him brought out the worst in me I guess.
“I always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss a tattooed bad ass with a chip on his shoulder. Officially crossed that one off my bucket list.”
His shoulders shook. He turned, a look of complete amusement washed over his features. “Careful.”
“Or what? You gonna pull a knife on me or something?”
“We both know I wouldn’t need to use violence to get you to respond, sweetheart.” His smile was crooked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “And you, little girl, better be careful. You’re dangerously close to getting me to fall for you, and I don’t do relationships, I do girls. Call me if you’re ever lonely. I’m sure I can even make that purple pony blush crimson given the chance.”
“Y-you’re disgusting!” I called as he walked away. Wow. Great, Saylor, way’ta add a stutter to really show him how much he affects you.
“You’re welcome!” he fired back, waving his hand in the air and making his way slowly down the stairs.
Shaking, I quickly opened the door to the practice room and then slammed it behind me. With a sigh, I touched my lips with my fingertips and leaned against the wall, then slowly sank to the ground. What. Just. Happened?
Chapter Five
What the hell had possessed me to accost a perfectly innocent girl in the hallway? Oh right, my squeaky clean past had come up to haunt me — it was annoying as hell. —Gabe H.
Gabe
My lips stung like hell.
I was losing my damn mind.
Embarrassment wasn’t really an emotion I was used to feeling, but there it was, bright as a freaking rainbow raining on my damn parade. Right. Because rain came during rainbows. I winced at my inability to even get a metaphor right in my mind. Music had a way of sucking everything out of me, all my anger, hurt, frustration, sadness, helplessness. And there she had been, standing there just listening!
And her eyes.
Hell, those eyes.
I knew those eyes — those were the true eyes of a musician. She’d been impressed, stunned, and a bit worried about me. I could see it all, could calculate just what was going on in that innocent little brain of hers. She was curious about me, curious about the music, and, thank God, hadn’t recognized me.
But the worst part?
Her face reminded me of the seas of faces. The ones I let down, the ones I left. The people who’d depended on me, who’d looked up to me, who — without knowing they were setting me up for failure — put me on the highest damn pedestal they could find.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Ignoring it, I continued the brisk pace toward my bike.
Kim had looked at me like that, with those eyes.
“Why now?” I said aloud. “Why the hell is this happening now?” Of all times. Why. Now. It seriously felt like God had abandoned me. I was alone, stuck in a pit of nothing, defenseless, a sitting duck, wallowing in emptiness.
My brain chose that moment to remind me of the perfume I smelled earlier that morning on the barista. I picked up my pace.
My stomach clenched. Either I was going to be sick, or I needed to go for a long ride somewhere to clear not only my head but the perfume. It was as if the scent had a life of its own, swirling around my mind, consuming every part of me until it wasn’t separate, but part of my soul. Its tentacles wrapped around my heart, and like any man with regrets, I felt them squeezing me so tight that my first response was to lash out and then retreat.
The perfume this morning, the phone call from Lisa, the girl in the piano room… shit. Worse of all, she’d heard the song. The one I’d written.
Worst timing in the world — because that immediately set me off. How dared she listen in on something so freaking private?
I hadn’t planned on kissing her, but I was pissed, and thought if I just scared her off, she’d freak out or just slap me away, at least then I’d feel something, right?
Wrong.
She’d kissed me back.
Wrong move, considering the whole dry spell and all, her little body had fit exactly in the outline of mine.
I couldn’t blame her — she had no way of knowing that the last girl that felt that perfect in my arms… was no longer present. So really it wasn’t her I was angry at. Maybe it was myself.
“Come on, Kim!” I grabbed her hand and kissed each finger, dipping them in my mouth as my tongue swirled around her hot skin. Damn, she was hot. With a giggle she pulled away and teetered on her feet. I grabbed her to keep from falling.
“Babe!” She giggled again. Clearly she wasn’t used to handling pot and alcohol at the same time. “It’s freezing outside!”
“But you’ll be with me, come on.” I pulled her into my arms. “One quick run then we can go to the wrap party later.”
Kim squinted and laughed again. “Right, but you’re forgetting, we’re a bit drunk and I’m not so sure it’s safe.”
“Again,” I sighed and pointed outside the window. The snowy landscape was untouched by anything. “You’ll be with me, and we won’t go down a hard run, I promise. Come on!” I kissed her forehead. “It’s not like anything’s going to happen! There isn’t even anyone out there! Look…” I stalked over to the window and pulled the curtains back as far as they would go. “It’s incredible. You don’t get this type of powder in California — only Whistler. Come on.”
“Fine!” Kim shook her head and walked toward the bedroom. “Let me just get my stuff real quick okay? I don’t care what you say, it’s freezing outside.”
Five minutes turned into thirty by the time Kim was ready. I grabbed the key to our hotel room and ran down the hall with her in tow. At sixteen it seemed kind of forbidden that we would be able to stay in the same suite, but my agent had said it was great publicity. We were basically the next teen heart throb couple and everyone wanted to see us together.
Which really wasn’t a problem, considering I was freaking obsessed with the girl. Her life, her smile. Hell. I would marry her at sixteen and she knew it.
“Ready?” I asked once we were outside. There weren’t any clouds in the sky, just stars. I winked at Kim. She shook her head and laughed, looking away as if embarrassed. Damn, I was lucky.
“Ready.”
“One, two—”
“Wait!” Kim touched her head. “I forgot my helmet.”
“One run.” I tried not to sound irritated. We were already going to be late to the party. “It won’t kill you. I swear.”
Kim looked uncertain. Didn’t she trust me to protect her?
“Well, okay.” She aimed her skis down the hill.
“One, two—”
“Three!” She squealed and went flying down the run, leaving me in the powder. Laughing, I went after her. I could hear every swipe of her skis, and then all of a sudden I heard a scream.
Then nothing.
“Kim?” I screamed, “You okay?”
I wasn’t going to make it.
I ran over to my bike and puked on the other side, wiping my face with
the back of my hand. No matter what my dad did, no matter who found out about my true identity, one thing would always remain. It was my fault, my cross to bear, and there weren’t enough prayers that could save my soul from burning in hell for what I’d done. For what I was still doing.
Once I’d puked my guts out — relieved myself of that bad ass Captain Crunch — I sat on my bike. Visions of the hot piano player ran through my head. I should have apologized instead of being an ass. Dry spell? Yeah, let’s blame it on that.
How was it my fault anyway? That she’d been spying on me? Or that she was sexy as hell. Was she new? I shook my head. Probably not. The University of Washington was a huge school and it wasn’t like I was a music major or anything — it was too close to my past, I had to stay far away from any hints of the guy I used to be, the guy I was running away from.
Cursing, I kicked the back wheel of my bike. The crisp spring air had a hint of moisture in it, causing an involuntary shiver to wreak havoc on my body. I pulled out my phone and dialed Wes’s number. We needed to finish that conversation. Because if there was anyone that could help me, it was him. Wes and I were exact opposites. He represented everything I was running away from, yet he was different. A miracle. That’s what he was. He’d conquered cancer this last year. He was also son to one of the richest men in the US — though you’d never know it from hanging out with him.
I’d met him this last year and promised, damn it, I’d promised I’d try harder to be a better person and I’d just screwed that promise. I hadn’t slept around for weeks since his surgery. Clearing my head seemed like a good idea, and I couldn’t do that while banging every girl within a twenty mile radius.
To be honest, I hadn’t been tempted.
Not until this afternoon.