But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t concentrating on music. There was someone—Briar—filling the holes in me. Her mannerisms fascinated me, like the way she tilted her head and her hair spilled across her pale, rounded shoulder. Sure, it all came back to wanting her. I did, more with each time we made love. But I liked her. I liked how I could focus on what she said and just listen. And that scared the shit out of me.
Music was my buffer. My escape. And with Briar, I didn’t feel the compulsion to seek it out. To use it—to keep away whatever was there on the other side of the music.
I glanced over at her as she pulled up to the valet stand. I picked up her hand where it rested in her lap and kissed her middle knuckle. She smiled at me, a real one that lit up her eyes and made them bluer than the ocean just beyond Brighton.
“I’m looking forward to eating here,” she said.
“Ah, but there’s more to the evening than just dining.”
She raised one of those thin brown brows and waited. I clamped my lips together and shook my head.
“Nope. I’m not going to let you do your quince.”
She rolled her eyes and giggled. “I have no idea what you just said.”
“It’s like we almost speak the same language.”
Her eyes flared, and that blush I’d come to love bloomed across her cheeks. “We seem to understand each other pretty well.”
I leaned toward her, using my far hand to cup her jaw. “Keep that up and you won’t get out of the car.”
“That’s a possibility?” Her voice was breathy.
A young man in uniform walked toward the car. The valet.
“Not with a valet standing there. And, anyway, I have plans,” I said. “Courting plans.”
I opened my door and stepped out. The valet opened Briar’s door and helped her out of the car. We met near the boot, and the distinct click of a camera filled the air. I tried to keep my body relaxed, but Briar glanced up into my face. After searching, her eyes lit on the paparazzi off to our left, near the entrance.
“Come on,” I said on a sigh. I opened the boot and pulled out her luggage, trying not to care that our moment was being photographed. Times like these, I wished I’d chosen another career—anything without the glare of fame. My jaw tightened as I walked Briar into the hotel, my hand riding low on her back.
With a mental fuck off, I stepped into the lobby.
“You still have your key card?” I asked.
Briar nodded.
“I’m going to stop at the desk for a moment. You go on up.” I offered her the handle of her suitcase and smiled.
She took the handle, glanced back at the entrance, and nodded. Best thing about Briar was how quick her mind was. Her eyes held hesitation but she leaned up and kissed me. I liked that. A lot. Too much for a crowded lobby.
I squeezed her waist gently.
“I’ll meet you upstairs.”
Her bum swayed in the flirty skirt as she walked toward the bank of elevators. A lovely arse. I really wanted to touch it. But first . . . I approached the concierge and let him know about the problem with the photographer. After repeated assurances the staff would take care of it, I slid my hands into my jeans pockets and headed upstairs, anticipation and lust mixing to form a lovely cocktail in my stomach.
After changing into nicer jeans—it’s all I wore, really, besides my workout clothes—and a button-down, Briar and I headed down to the restaurant. I’d suggested she leave everything but her wrap in our room. We’d return upstairs after our meal. No sense in dragging a pack she wouldn’t need.
Our table was next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering an unobstructed view of the sound. The sun hung low in the sky, a fiery ball of crimson that splashed a soft light on Briar’s skin, making it glow.
She was lovely, and I was hopeful we could figure out a way to continue to see each other. I didn’t throw around the girlfriend title lightly. I hadn’t had one in years. More important than what I called her, I was going to miss Briar heaps. Too much to leave her behind permanently.
But my mates were waiting on me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off. I’d missed one show, which the band canceled, eating the cost. Tomorrow they would have Pete sitting at my piano. My fingers itched. I hated the idea of someone else touching my piano keys. I’d found the perfect instrument, the one with just the right weight and balance. I didn’t want Pete fouling up my instrument.
I dropped my napkin in my lap as I realized this was the first time I’d thought about my tour and band mates in hours. I stared out at the placid blue water, needing a moment to analyze what that could mean.
More than I wanted it to, I was sure. This thing with Briar caught me on my heels. She pried my stiff fingers from the menu. The warmth from her hand and the soft “hey” were enough to draw me back in. I turned and focused on her beautiful blue eyes. Brighter than the water outside, for certain.
“I’m assuming the seafood’s good here.”
“Of course. You don’t want to tell me where you went?” She rubbed her thumb over the back of my hand.
I shook my head. This was our moment—maybe our last one—and I wanted a fair go at romance. Briar deserved that much. More.
“Tell me about growing up here. Did you live near the water?”
Briar leaned back, and I bit my tongue, refusing to let her know how much I missed the feel of her skin against mine.
Ah, bollocks. Our clock was ticking. I picked up her hand again, smiling when her fingers curled over mine.
“Not too close, no. My mother married a man from the area. They’d purchased a Craftsman-style home in one of the city neighborhoods.” She picked up her water and sipped. “The house is over one hundred years old, with lots of little rooms. We ate in the dining room because the kitchen was way too small for all of us.”
“So more than just your sister and you?”
She glanced out the window and the light hit her cheek, illuminating her porcelain skin and shadowing her slightly tilted eyes.
“With my dad, no.” Her lashes came down, hiding the hurt I knew lingered in her eyes. “I have three half siblings—a sister and twins, boys. We’re not close in age or emotionally. Lia was nearly fifteen, I was ten when we moved in. The house wasn’t really big enough for us all, but we managed. Especially when Lia moved out a couple of years later.” She smiled but it was grim. I’d hit a sore spot with this one. “Then I shared a room with just my half sister, Preslee. She’s six years younger than me and Noah and Nate are two years younger than Preslee.”
“You liked the beach? I remember you telling me you spent time there.”
Briar nodded. “Especially after Lia left. I never felt comfortable at my mom’s house, so, yeah, the beach was my refuge.”
Like music was mine. “She didn’t hurt you? Your mum.”
Briar shook her head. “Except for the month between my dad’s death and her coming to get us, she was always available. She never planned to be a mom to five kids, and Lia was angry about pretty much everything from their divorce to Dad’s death.”
I glanced up at the waiter whose name, Jim, was stitched into his starched white dress shirt. He was young with a mop of hair that proclaimed he was either an artist or a hipster. He grinned at me, but his smile amped up when his eyes swept Briar. I cleared my throat and Jim, cub that he was, was smart enough to turn his attention back to me.
Crikey, I wasn’t used to this spike of possessiveness. At the same time, pride slithered through me. He could soak up Briar’s beauty, but she was going home with me.
“Would you like anything else to drink? A bottle of wine, perhaps?” he asked, trying to smooth over his obvious gawking.
“I’ve developed a taste for the local microbrews.” I winked at Briar. “Golden Retriever if you have it.” I raised my brow at Briar who smiled back. “Make it two. Thanks, mate.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Crewe.”
Briar waited until he left before leanin
g forward. “He wants your autograph, but I bet he’s worried he’ll lose his job if he asks.”
I leaned in, mimicking her arms folded on the table. “I agree. That’s why I’m going to sign one of the old concert tickets I keep in my wallet and leave it in on the table.”
She laughed, sitting up. “Always a step ahead.”
“We learn things, us famous blokes.”
“And the rest of us appreciate that.”
Our drinks came as we segued into talking music. Briar said she wasn’t much of an aficionado but she’d been educated. By her sister, I’d guess.
“Have you decided on your meal?” Jim asked, his voice cracking a little. Poor bugger. Much as I wanted to tell him I was just a regular bloke, I didn’t think he’d agree. And Briar’s blue eyes were clearly more than the kid could handle.
I raised an eyebrow. “Know what you want, love?”
She smiled, and it was so sultry my pants got tight. “Yes.”
Jim cleared his throat. She turned those big blues back toward the waiter, and the little wanker puffed up like a thorny devil. Bloody idiot. She was mine.
“I’d like the special.”
Jim might as well have had his tongue falling out he was so hot for my date. “Make that two.” No idea what the special was, and I didn’t care. I wanted our wanker waiter to go away. I scowled at him the whole way across the room.
“He wants you,” I growled.
“I want you.” She raised her glass and sipped, her eyes meeting mine over the rim.
I unclenched my fists and leaned forward so far I could see the faint blue veins in the skin under her eyes. “I’m going to make you scream my name again.”
Her pupils dilated and her mouth dropped open for a moment before she licked her lips. “I’m looking forward to that,” she said, her voice doing that Marilyn Monroe breathiness that nearly killed me.
“At least twice,” I decided.
This time she laughed, the sound smooth and warm, enveloping me in emotion.
“I love your confidence, Hayden.”
I paused, her words swirling through my head. But I discarded them, not yet ready to delve that deep, and asked her instead about her most interesting interview.
We talked through the meal, the relaxed convo of two people who knew each other well.
“How can you hate your name?” I asked, setting my fork and knife on my plate. The skate was delectable, and I’d finished it all. Briar was about halfway through her plate, but she set her silverware to the side as well.
“My mother named us. How much do you have to dislike your kids to name them after dahlias and briars?”
“I’m right partial to my Sweet Briar,” I said with a wink. “All soft and pink.”
“With just the right amount of prick,” she replied with a wink of her own.
I threw my napkin on the table. “We’re done here.”
Jim was at my elbow. I declined dessert while Briar lifted her eyebrow, her eyes laughing at me. I signed the bill, adding a hefty tip. Yank servers didn’t make decent quid.
After Jim walked away, I pulled the concert ticket stub from my wallet, signed it, and dropped it on the table. Rising, I took Briar’s thin, warm hand. Lacing my fingers through hers, I led her between the tables, nodding to a group of staring patrons.
When a few women detached themselves from the bar, Briar glanced around and pulled me through a shadowy door. We were in a dark, concrete stairwell. She yanked me up the steps. A door opened behind us as we plowed up another flight.
“Probably wasn’t even him. He’s supposed to be on tour.” The voice was high, out of breath.
“It was! He was at Pike Place this morning. I’ve got to meet him.”
“Why do you think he ducked out so fast?”
“That woman pulled him. Like she can handle him. Come on. Let’s find him.”
Briar threw open the door on the next level and led me down the hallway. Her breathing was choppy from running up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I asked, as out of breath as she was.
“We’re running away,” she said.
“Got that.”
She slid around the next corner and we were at the elevator banks.
“Have you been here before?”
“Yep. For work. Covered a few charity events.”
“And you just happened to know that the stairwell was there?”
The elevator dinged open and I dropped her hand, ushering her in the car. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, her breasts rising and falling against the fabric of her dress.
“I have a freakishly good memory.” She shrugged as she leaned back against the wall of the elevator.
“Reckon.”
I stood next to her, hands on the brass bar that circled the elevator. Maybe trusting Briar was stupid. She was a journo. Her type always went for the jugular.
She hadn’t, though. She’d never made any attempt to use our relationship for personal gain. If anything, she was as protective of me as I was of her.
I ran my fingers through my hair, down the back of my neck. Too many pieces of my life were rubbing up against each other.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Briar stepped away from me, walking toward my suite. My eyes went back to her bum, the way it swayed in that dress. Perfection.
I hurried forward until we were side by side. I cupped her hip. My thumb rubbed up and down, loving the warmth emanating through the silk.
Stupid though I might be, I trusted her.
Chapter 20
Briar
Once we were back in his room, Hayden turned on some music. It was soft, sensual.
“Want some bubbly?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He poured me a glass from the chilled bottle that sat next to the gleaming table. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I turned my head so our lips could fully meet, but he’d stepped back. Handing me the champagne flute, Hayden poured himself a glass.
“Want to go out onto the terrace?” he asked.
I nodded. He opened the door and motioned me through. I sipped my drink as I looked out over the sound just feet below.
He ran his hand up my back, stopping at the base of my neck. Tilting my chin up, he kissed me again. I deepened the kiss, loving the way his tongue slid across and over mine.
“I like this date,” I murmured.
“You’ll like it more before it’s over.”
“Promises, promises.”
Hayden chuckled. He took my glass and set it with his on a small metal table. Pulling me into his arms, he spun me before dipping me over his arm. His lips slid down my neck and over my collarbone. I shivered with need.
“I intend to deliver,” he said, his voice as luscious as the champagne, but darker, more sensual. He pulled me upright, his body fitting to mine. His far hand came to my waist and squeezed lightly.
I bit his earlobe as I pressed closer. He made a noise in the back of his throat before he dipped his head, capturing my lips, my mouth. For a man who’d never seduced a woman, he was damn good at it.
“Dance with me?”
I nodded again. Sure, he fed into many of my fantasies, but Hayden wanted this night as much as I did. Maybe more. In my short time with him, I quickly realized he didn’t get to be himself with many people, didn’t get to show this tender side that was so integral to his personality.
I pressed my lips together, tamping down the need to tell him how much he meant to me. In this moment, as he twirled me around the terrace, singing into my ear, my heart didn’t just melt. Hayden owned me.
His happiness had become mine. His needs, my needs. While I’d never considered myself a selfish person, my time here, with him, showed me again how little I let people into my life.
But Hayden wasn’t just in my life. He was in my soul. I loved him. Deeply, irreparably. I pressed closer, needing his warmth as I shivered from my revelations. He wasn’t ready. Not
for my love, not for the responsibility of caring for my feelings.
I kissed him, let him drug me with his lips and teeth and tongue, desperate to feel his warm skin against mine. Desperate, once again, for our connection. This we shared. I couldn’t ask him for more. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
After our third dance, after many long, drugging kisses, Hayden pulled me back into the suite. He turned me so that I faced outward, our reflections clear in the glass. He stood behind me, his hand sliding slowly from my waist, up over my rib cage, my breast, my neck, cupping my chin and turning my head to meet his lips.
This kiss was softer, deeper, filled with more than simple passion. We’d met there and it was delicious. This . . . this was more.
I didn’t want the moment to end. I reached my arm up to hold his head closer to mine and moaned when the skin of my back touched his dress shirt.
“I need you, Hayden.”
“You have me, love.”
“I want you.”
“You’ll get me.”
“Now.”
This time he pulled back and chuckled. “Soon.”
I unzipped my dress and let it fall to my feet in a pool. His nostrils flared as his eyes traveled up from my heels, over my hips to my chest. “Now,” I demanded again.
He ran a finger across the top of my breast, up my neck, along my jaw. I quivered under him.
“Glad you had your nap, Sweet Briar. This need I feel, it’s going to take some time to satisfy.”
I stepped out of my dress, moved forward and unbuttoned his shirt. Spreading it wide, I peeled his undershirt up his belly, across those trim ribs. Dropping to my knees I pressed a kiss to his navel, my tongue darting out to taste him.
He hissed out a curse, and I glanced up at him from under my lashes. “I can help with that.”
He tossed his button-down on the couch and his T-shirt followed. I popped the button on his jeans, kissed him there on the tattoo that snaked along his hip. He cupped the back of my head, pressing my cheek against his stomach. I wrapped my arms around the back of his thighs, cradling his body as close as I could get it to mine.
Between Breaths (The Seattle Sound Series Book 2) Page 13
