Ophelia agreed and sang the lyrics she knew by heart. The bright flashing lights flooded the floor, and bodies pressed in on her. All joined in the quest to let go for a few moments and let the music take them away.
Ophelia threw her head back and surrendered.
Chapter Fifteen
Kyle stepped into the small dive bar and groaned. It was karaoke night, and it already looked like a fire hazard. “Dude, why don’t we go home? It’s late.”
Ethan’s features were set in determination, as if he was embarking on a mission. “It’s not even one a.m. I’m not old.”
Kyle groaned again and rubbed his head. “Oh hell. Are you actually listening to those bozos? Who cares if we don’t hang out at the bars anymore? I’m okay admitting I want to go to sleep.”
After burgers and a brownie bomber sundae, they’d run into some guys from high school who were on a serious mission to do some partying damage. They’d played catch-up on who was married, who was divorced, and who worked a job they didn’t despise, then made some jabs about Ethan never being seen partying in town. Kyle shrugged it off, but it seemed his friend had something to prove. Ethan insisted they walk down Main Street to the Depot to see what they had going on.
“I’m not getting home before Mia,” he announced, deftly maneuvering them through the thick press of bodies and to the bar. “We’re having fun, right? We’re partying.”
Kyle smothered a yawn. “Sure.”
Ethan yelled something Kyle didn’t catch.
“Huh? I can’t hear you.” A very bad version of “I Will Survive” assaulted his ears and made him wince. That damn woman-hear-me-roar song gave him goose bumps—it usually was a setup for a dramatic breakup.
“Shots!” Ethan shouted. “Tequila.”
“We won’t be able to drive home,” he pointed out.
“We can walk, or there’s Uber.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “You do your shots, and I’ll drive your ass home. Just get me a seltzer, okay?”
“Pussy.”
Kyle laughed.
Suddenly, a shout rang out and a couple began to argue quite loudly. He turned his head and watched a woman jump from the table and race outside, her girlfriends trailing behind her, shouting her name and insults at the schmuck who was left looking confused.
Yep, that song did it every time.
“Oh good, a table just opened up. I’ll grab it.” He took the two empty seats with a ruthless efficiency and sipped at his drink. The place was so packed, he could barely see the stage.
Maybe he’d be able to drag Ethan out after his shot.
He sat through a terrible version of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust,” which reminded him why he’d stopped attending local karaoke, and drank his seltzer.
Thankfully, the song eventually ended. He glanced at Ethan. The shot glass was empty, and his friend was blinking way too rapidly, confirming he was officially hammered.
Poor Mia would have to deal with the aftereffects, but—
“Hi, everyone. I’m going to try to do this one justice, but if it sucks, just feel free to throw some peanuts at me.” Laughter filled the room along with encouraging applause.
Kyle frowned, the familiar voice ruffling his nerve endings. His gaze snapped to the front of the stage, still halfway blocked by the crowd.
“Do you recognize who’s singing?” he asked. “I can’t see.”
Ethan swiveled around, squinting. “It’s Ophelia.” A sloppy grin curved his lips. “Hey, Mia’s sitting over there.” He stood, cupped his hands around his mouth, and began yelling their names.
Kyle grabbed his arm and yanked his ass back in the seat. “They can’t hear you—text Mia. Stay here, Party Boy, and I’ll be back. I’m going to get closer.”
His heart hammered, and every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation. Slowly, as if in a dream, he weaved his way through the crowd until he scored a position to the right of the stage.
The opening strains of Adele’s famous song “Hello” belted from the large speaker, and the lyrics lit up on the screen in fluorescent green. But Kyle already knew she wouldn’t need to read the words. The song unfolded from her body, the first notes lingering in the air with a teasing promise that stirred the crowd’s curiosity. Rooted to the floor, he clenched his fist and prepared himself for what was to come.
Ophelia was going to sing.
His gaze drank her in. Even under the garish lights, she glowed with an inner joy that she always exuded when she sang. Her strawberry-blonde hair tumbled past her shoulders. The black jacket framed the curve of her breasts and hips. The short miniskirt indecently exposed a good portion of thigh, stopped by the edge of the sexiest black motorcycle boots he’d ever seen. Her fingers caressed the microphone, and her mouth hovered inches away, lush red lips damp from her tongue. Her blue eyes turned a smoky hue. She held them half-closed as she gave herself up to the song, practically seducing the audience with sensuality.
Fuck, she was beautiful. But her voice. How long had it been since she was in her element and got to use those gifted pipes?
The first lyrics fell into the air, the rich, husky undertone of her voice just hinting at what she would give them if they only listened. And in that tiny, overcrowded, loud bar, there was a sudden hush as everyone began to recognize that the woman who was singing was different.
The words started low in her belly and grew to a rising, booming entreaty straight from her heart. Threaded with sadness and a longing for a love already gone, she stared out into the crowd and gave it all to them—every emotion sprung open and unleashed—and they took it, reveled, savored.
The music faded until all that remained was the most haunting voice he’d ever heard, the smoky strains interweaved with such richness, it was as if he’d indulged in every vice imaginable: chocolate, champagne, caviar.
His gut twisted and his eyes stung as she moved into the final lines. She reached deep with her voice and let it explode before softly bringing it back down until it was a whisper. He wondered if the entire episode was a dream.
He watched as her head hung down in submission as the final notes lingered and fell silent. No one breathed. No one spoke.
Then she whipped her head back and gave the audience a dazzling smile, lifting up the microphone and doing a small bow.
An aching loss tore at his gut. Once, she’d sung for him, her face joyous, sharing not only her gift but also her full heart. She’d trusted him to take care of both in the vows they’d recited, and the way they’d loved each other.
But he hadn’t been there when she needed him the most.
He bent over and grabbed a chair to steady himself. The realization hit him like a freight train, and the ground shifted under his feet.
The words she’d confessed in the car a few nights ago suddenly held new meaning. She hadn’t left him because she was afraid of a singing career, or jealous over his success, or that she couldn’t handle the intensity of their relationship.
She had left because he’d stopped choosing her.
The cheers of the crowd rose to his ears—not only applause but also catcalls and hushed conversations about who she was. Was she famous, or from The Voice? He took it all in but was still unable to move. She’d done it again. She’d wrecked him and left him scattered into a million tiny pieces, wondering how he’d be whole without her.
Somehow, he had to let her know he finally understood.
Kyle stumbled forward in an effort to reach her.
Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, her gaze scanned the crowd, grazed over him, and swung quickly back.
Their eyes locked.
Recognition. Understanding. Remembrance.
Hunger.
Holding her gaze, he walked toward her. She met him halfway, stepping off the stage.
“You’re here.” It was a statement, holding so much more meaning than those simple two words.
His voice got stuck in his throat and came out hoarse. “Yes.” He drank in her face, reaching ou
t to trail a finger down her cheek. “You were extraordinary.”
She had no time to respond. Bumped by the crowd, suddenly Mia and Harper and Ethan surrounded them, congratulating her and leading them back to their table. They chattered in excitement. Harper hugged her and Ethan ordered another shot in celebration, but all Kyle could see and hear and smell was her.
He felt drunker than Ethan. All of his senses jammed into high alert. He registered the slightest movement of her fingers, the cock of her hip, the way her lips parted and her tongue touched the very top of her teeth before she spoke. He wanted to soak himself in her essence and flavor.
If he didn’t get her out of this club right now, he was going to fracture into insanity.
Ethan hugged his sister and grinned proudly. “I can’t believe you did karaoke. You’re so cool, Tink.”
Mia and Ophelia laughed. “And you’re drunk, baby,” Mia announced.
“Just abalittle.”
“I’m feeling little pain myself,” Ophelia admitted. “That’s probably the only reason I got up there.”
“She guzzled an entire funnel of beer at Joe’s,” Harper said. “And we won fifty bucks.”
“No shit?” Ethan asked. “We had burgers at the Irish pub. I had shots.”
Mia stroked his hair back lovingly. “Bunch of rebels, huh? Kyle, do you need me to drive you home too?”
“No, I’m good. Been drinking seltzer the past two hours.” He stared at Ophelia, then reached out and touched her upper arm. The muscles stiffened under his touch. Awareness between them flared to life. Her pupils dilated, and she swayed slightly on her feet, leaning toward him. Heat practically burned his hand. “Let me take you home.”
His meaning was so much bigger than his words. He waited, knowing if she said no it would rip him to pieces. Her breath came in choppy pants, and her gaze dropped to his lips. In seconds, his dick was rock hard.
Mia cleared her throat. “Umm, Ophelia? Do you want to go home with Kyle? Or we can drop you off . . .”
Both Harper and Mia seemed to wait for her response with a strange intensity. Their gazes bounced back and forth between him and Ophelia with a shrewd knowledge that made Kyle shift his feet uncomfortably.
Why were they looking at him like that? Did they suspect something was going on with him and Ophelia?
“I’ll go with Kyle.”
His knees weakened in relief. Ignoring the women’s narrowed gazes, he secured fast goodbyes, making sure Mia and Harper could handle walking with Ethan to the car. He thumped his friend on the back and escorted Ophelia out of the bar. The cold bite of wind tore at their flesh, so he tucked her against him, shielding her until she was safely inside the vehicle.
He pulled away from the curb, careful not to blast the heat until the car warmed up. The tiny strip of bare flesh between her skirt and boots was peppered with goose bumps.
She shivered. “I must’ve been crazy to wear a skirt in this weather.”
“Can I say how grateful I am for your bravery?”
She turned her head and smiled at him. He was a goner. “I didn’t know you were going out tonight. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah, Ethan was on a mission to prove he wasn’t old. Let’s just say I learned two things tonight.”
“What?”
“First, we are definitely too old to party this hard.”
She gave a small laugh. The sound ruffled him with pleasure. “And the second?”
He shot her a look filled with intention. “You can still bring me to my knees.”
She sucked in a breath. The tension cranked up a few notches. She didn’t speak for a while, but he waited her out.
“I haven’t allowed myself to sing in public for years,” she said softly. “I forgot the pull of an audience. The way the music takes over and you become completely connected. It’s the biggest high.”
“Then why are you denying yourself such pleasure? You have a gift. Everyone in that bar knew it.”
She stared out the window. The edge of loneliness pierced through him, so he reached over and entangled his fingers with hers. She squeezed back.
“Because I remember how it was when I was on the verge of discovery. I remember how I realized it’d be too easy to lose who I really was.”
“A singer.”
She smiled with a touch of sadness. “Yes, but they didn’t want me to sing. They wanted me to perform. To be a star. To change my clothes and my appearance and the way I talk. To be someone I’d never be.”
“You could’ve fought them. Refused to change until they had to listen.”
“Like you?”
He jerked. At first, he hadn’t been interested in writing action movies. He’d craved a deeper, bigger playground to write and explore stories. But eventually, he had to make a decision to fit into the box that would accept him.
Was that how it had been for Ophelia? The memories were a blur—he’d just been so happy she was going to finally become big enough for everyone to experience her voice. Now he realized he’d been so consumed with his own quest for fame he hadn’t really listened.
The thoughts troubled him. It’d been easy blaming her for leaving. But with all the revelations he’d been having lately, the past suddenly seemed a blur of gray rather than the black and white he’d once believed it had been.
He pulled into the inn’s driveway and parked the car. The white lights on the building twinkled merrily in the dark and added a welcoming touch. They walked inside, his arm firmly guiding her by the elbow, and shut the door behind them.
The fire had died out. The lingering scent of smoke and wood hung in the air. The lone light from the foyer illuminated the hallway.
“Thanks for driving.” She fumbled with the locks and switched off the lamp. He noticed she refused to look him in the eye. “I better get to bed. Good night.”
She headed to the safety of her bedroom, her steps a bit awkward—which told him she was definitely still tipsy. The next question his mind posed was more important.
Was she sober enough to know what she was doing?
Her fingers clasped around the knob with a touch of desperation.
He moved and, in seconds, he was behind her.
She stiffened.
“Ophelia?”
Her voice came out ragged. “What?”
“How drunk are you?”
She spun around and tilted her head back. His gaze delved deep and found a cocktail of emotions he had to explore. Those fiery blue eyes shot sparks of rebellion, frustration, and a raw hunger that touched the primitive part of him.
“Not drunk enough to claim I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”
A smile touched his lips. He reached out and stroked her hair back, the silky strands jumping and clinging to his fingers in sensual abandon. “What am I trying to do?”
She pressed her lips together. “Seduce me. Am I right?”
“Oh yes. You are.”
She blinked, as if shocked at his honesty. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“We’re getting a divorce.”
He gave a small laugh and lowered his head, his nose nudging her ear. Her scent made dizzy circles around him—a touch of musky perfume mixed with feminine sweat and an underlying honeyed sweetness from her body cream. “Right now, we’re married. And I want to kiss my wife.”
The connection between them tightened; desire raged for escape from its prison. She lifted her arms. He waited for her to push him away, but she twined them around his neck and pulled him closer.
This time, his breath collapsed from his lungs, and his dick strained against his jeans. He pressed her against the door and reveled in how every one of her curves cradled against his hard length.
She tried for one last rally. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered, already reaching up on tiptoes to bring her mouth next to his.
“I do. Just stop me if you don’t want this as badly as I do.”
Then his mouth c
rashed over hers.
She was dying.
The shocking warmth of his mouth shook through her body, causing mini convulsions that seized each muscle with bone-melting pleasure. The past and the present collided and shoved her underwater. There was no thought to fight, or reason, or back away.
There was no thought at all—except him.
He devoured her whole, his tongue pressing deep inside to reclaim what had always belonged to him. She hung on, her fingers stabbing through the golden-blond strands of hair. The silky thrust of his tongue paired with the delicious scrape of beard on her jaw. He overtook her completely in that one perfect kiss, consuming her breath and her body.
“You taste so good,” he muttered against her lips. He sucked her lower lip and gave it a sexy little nip. “So damn sweet.”
She arched up with unspoken demand and bit back. They fell into another deep kiss, and she realized in this moment she had a choice. If she took him to her bed, everything would change.
Unless it was only for tonight . . . Maybe she could handle it.
When her gaze had collided with his after her song, something had shifted and broken inside of her. There seemed to be a new understanding as he looked at her, an intensity that ripped down her barriers and dared her to take what she wanted.
Him. For one night.
God, the high of singing still buzzed through her body.
It had been so long since she’d felt this alive—so long since her body had lit up and wept for a man to touch her.
If she gave herself this one night, maybe she’d be able to let go of some ghosts of the past. It would be like a perfect, bittersweet goodbye to the man she’d once loved.
Her inner voice laughed hysterically at her naïveté and the outright lie. But the needy, lust-filled part of her drove her forward with determination.
She broke the kiss, panting against his carved lips. “Come inside.”
He groaned, stroking her bare arms, and nipped at her ear. “I need you to be sure. We can make out right here, for as long as you want, and I’d be happy as hell. I don’t want to push you, baby.”
She gave a low laugh. “Thought you promised to seduce me, Kimpton. You going back on your word?”
A Brand New Ending (Stay Book 2) Page 16
