Which meant he had to follow through with responding, didn’t it? At least Kennedy’s playfulness had eased the tightness in his throat, his heart. “For the past few months I’ve been having nightmares about Oliver.”
“Your friend? Why are they nightmares?” she asked quietly.
“Because they’re of him dying, only it’s not Oliver. It’s me. I’m dying, drowning just like he did.”
Kennedy’s breath hitched. Her arms clutched at him, as if by sheer force of will she could keep him with her, away from the dreams, away from death. He had no doubt she was strong enough to do just that.
“That’s awful. When did they start?”
He had to think back; so much of the last few months had been crowded with tour dates and traveling and the worry over not being able to write music. “Around the time Grace first started talking about the benefit, I think. That’s the first time it truly hit me that it had been five years since Oliver…”
Kennedy rubbed a warm hand along his ribs. “It’s normal for grief to come back around anniversaries, isn’t it?”
True. And some of what he was feeling was grief. Tear-your-heart-out, can’t-do-anything-but-scream grief. But the rest…
“I’m not just grieving; I’m angry. How fucked up is that? Sometimes, when I think about losing him, I’m just so angry it burns up everything else inside me.” The distinctive burn of tears tingled at the back of his eyes, but he blinked it away. “It wasn’t like that when I first lost him. My parents had thrown me out just after, and I was trying to move to a new country, trying to find a place to live, start a new career. But the past few months…”
A shot of pain zinged through his jaw—he was clenching his teeth. Kennedy must’ve seen it too, because she brought a hand up to massage his jawline. “Hey.” She pushed up onto her elbow to stare down at him. “You have every right to be angry. People don’t like to say it out loud, but it’s there. As much as you loved Oliver, what he chose to do, what he took from you, from Grace…” She shook her head. “There is nothing wrong with being angry.”
“With who? There’s no one to target, no one to fight it out with. Oliver is dead.” As much as the words stabbed a knife through his heart even now, they were true. “He can’t say he’s sorry.”
“No, he can’t.” Kennedy crawled up until her head was level with his on the pillow. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do something about it on your end. Before it eats you up inside. Before these nightmares lead to something worse.”
She was right; he knew she was right. He just didn’t know what to do about it.
Except that wasn’t totally true. He did know; he just didn’t want to face it. Hadn’t for five years. “Grace called.”
A vee formed between Kennedy’s brows. “When?”
“Yesterday. Her headliner for the benefit quit.” He dug his fingers through Kennedy’s thick hair, playing with the strands, untangling them, giving himself a focus. “She told me in no uncertain terms that she expected me back for the concert. No excuses.” He stared into her eyes, the sympathy staring back at him hard to take, but he forced himself to anyway.
“Maybe it’s time,” she said. “Maybe that’s what your heart is trying to tell you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can go back. All this time it was like, if I just stayed away, it hadn’t really happened, you know? He would still be there at the cove, waiting for me, giving me shit for being five years late.” His breath hitched in his throat, nearly choking him. “If I went back—
“And what, am I supposed to stand up on a stage in front of thousands of people and talk about him, about how he was a brother to me and left me behind? How suicide isn’t the answer?” Things he could no longer say to Oliver because his friend was gone?
“I say you know that better than anyone, don’t you? You live out the consequences every day: a big gaping hole in your heart where your brother used to be. That hole’s only going to get bigger if you don’t deal with it.”
He had felt like there was a hole in his heart—Christ, maybe even his soul. And the past few months, it had been swallowing him up. His happiness. His drive. His music.
He thought about the sensations in his dream, of drowning like Oliver had. It wasn’t happening in real life, but there were parts of him that were dying, weren’t there? If he didn’t face his pain and anger, didn’t put the past completely to rest, what would happen to his creativity?
He had to make a choice. And staring into Kennedy’s eyes, he knew what his answer would be. He wouldn’t settle for less courage in himself than he’d seen in his woman.
“I haven’t been able to write,” he told her. “My record label wants a projected date on the next album, and I haven’t been able to give them one. I was beginning to think there wouldn’t be another one if I couldn’t get my head on fucking straight.”
“Beginning to think?”
“Yeah.” This time he rose on his elbow, tipping Kennedy onto her back where he could look her square in the eyes. “Until a certain redhead became something of a muse. I’ve got half a song just imagining having you beneath me.”
“Half?” Kennedy wiggled a bit beneath him, and his cock took notice. “I think we can do better than half.”
“Oh, last night was a whole album, love. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Her laugh was the best music in the world. He savored it, let it surround him. He’d known this woman only a few days, but he hadn’t needed more than a few hours to know she was a gift he had no intention of letting go. Wherever this took them, he wanted to follow it. And he prayed he’d never find the end.
“Would you come to Australia with me?”
Kennedy startled. “Me? You want me with you?”
He rolled his eyes at the question.
Kennedy snickered. When she tweaked his nipple, he was on her instantly, growling into her neck as she tried to escape his tickling fingers.
“Okay, okay, okay! I submit,” she cried. And she did, relaxing beneath him as sweetly as she had last night. The feel of her surrender pierced his heart in a way he didn’t think he could describe, even with music.
He eased back, the smile on her face making his chest expand in a totally Neanderthal—and totally uncontrollable—way.
“Of course I want you with me. But I need to hear you say it.”
“Well then”—she trailed her fingers down his side to cup his ass, pulling him harder against her—“yes, sir.”
Chapter Twenty
Standing in the wings to one side of the stage, Kennedy thought her heart might burst with pride. Oh, watching Isaac onstage tonight had spurred a lot of reactions, not the least of which was a sweat-inducingly urgent need to get him alone, anywhere, and fuck like bunnies until the sexual need his performance had stirred inside her was at least semi-satisfied. But it was the pride that had tears tingling in her eyes and her heart straining in her chest. He’d put on the performance of his life tonight, one of the best concerts she’d ever seen—and she’d seen chart toppers all her life.
Isaac was the best of them all. And she didn’t just think that because she was going home with him tonight.
He’d been in Vegas two weeks. They’d barely known each other fourteen days, but they’d been days filled with a happiness she’d never experienced before. Despite all the questions they still hadn’t answered, being together just felt right. Isaac was the wordsmith, and he’d put it best when he’d held her in his arms and told her just that.
But tonight was big for more than one reason. Yes, this performance was the culmination of months of work, but the meeting afterward was, in her eyes, equally important. Ted Dugan stood not far from Kennedy in the wings, Isaac’s manager next to him. Isaac would talk to them in a few minutes, and the record exec’s response would either support or discourage the efforts Isaac had put in for the past week, both professionally and personally.
The encore ended, and Isaac rushed her way. She wasn’t sure wh
at to expect—was he one of those artists who was drained by a live performance, all out when it ended? Or did it feed his energy like it did the fans?
The sweaty, almost exalted smile on his face as he stepped off the stage said he tipped toward the latter. The way he bear-hugged her into his arms—and the hard length against her belly—confirmed that he was energized, in more ways than one.
“Can we sneak out the back?” Isaac growled low in her ear.
A delicious shiver shot from ear to breasts to clit. “Afraid not,” she said, though she couldn’t keep from tilting her pelvis the slightest bit to grind against him. “Duty calls.”
His growl this time was pure frustration. With a hard, thorough kiss, he pulled away. On the side of her body hidden from their audience, he trailed a hand along her ribs, tracing the harness of rope she wore beneath her clothes. The rope he’d put there before they came to the arena. “You’re okay, yeah?”
Her smile hurt, it was so big. “Perfect.”
Something relaxed in his demeanor, as if knowing she was safe and happy and wearing his rope fulfilled a need she didn’t quite understand. The Dom part of him lingered between them even out of the bedroom, though it transformed into more of a protection thing than a command thing. That side of Isaac’s personality became more precious to her every day, and slowly but surely, with every encounter that reinforced his care—and the satisfaction their being together inevitably brought them—she was learning to trust him and let go of her old fears.
As if everything else had needed to wait until he’d assured himself of her well-being, he finally turned to the couple patiently waiting a few feet away. Securing her hand in his, he held his free one out to the man watching them curiously. “Tad. Good to see you.”
A hug for Susan followed, and then Isaac was ushering them along the hall, fingers still firmly entwined with Kennedy’s. “I was able to secure a conference room for us to talk. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited the guys to join us since this affects them too.”
The hint of worried that sparked in Susan’s eyes told Kennedy that Isaac hadn’t informed her of his plans, but the woman held her questions until they reached the conference room.
Isaac’s bandmates waited inside. She’d gotten to know each of them over the last week, knew they worked well together—and gave each other a bitch of a time just for fun. They fully supported Isaac in this move, however, and that was something he would need as he battled his demons for the next few months. Kennedy had no doubt he would come out the other side stronger and more creative than ever.
When everyone was seated around the table, Tad glanced at each of the men before clearing his throat. “Guys, you’ve worked damn hard tonight and put on one of the best performances I’ve ever seen; I want you to know that. And I’m sure you’re all exhausted, so let’s not draw this out. What have you got for me, Isaac?”
Isaac squeezed Kennedy’s hand, but she didn’t get the feeling the action was about nerves. More like he was happy to have her at his side in this moment.
“Actually, I want to pitch you two projects,” Isaac told him. “We have a working concept for the next album that I want to e-mail you. The writing is going slow, but it is going, and we—all of us—think it will be ready for studio time within a year.”
“A year?” Tad’s voice was strained, clearly trying to control the alarm Kennedy could see in his wide eyes.
Isaac held up a hand, chuckling. “A year. But don’t panic.”
“That train has already left the station,” Tad said.
“Well, hit the brakes, yeah?” Isaac leaned onto his elbows, his intensity ratcheting up as he approached the deal she knew meant so much to him. “Look, I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on the business, on me, on ‘making it’ for the last four years. I want to change that a little bit. I think it’s time I gave back, and after talking to the band, they agree.”
“Giving back is usually good PR,” Susan said cautiously.
“What are we talking about here?” Tad asked.
“You know I do some work with a charity called LIVE in Australia.”
Tad nodded, rubbing his thumb across his chin.
“The organization was founded when a man I considered family took his own life,” Isaac said. “I want to step up my involvement there. I plan to attend their annual benefit in a couple of weeks as their headliner.”
“In Australia?” Susan asked. “You never perform in Australia.”
Isaac nodded, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his expression. “Yes, in Australia. And you’re right; I haven’t performed there for personal reasons, but it’s time I got over those. This charity means a lot to me; you know that, Susan. Because this will be my first home concert ever, we expect an explosion of interest and, hopefully, a massive outpouring of support for LIVE. That’s a lot of people helped, possibly even lives saved.”
Tad still looked wary. “What does this have to do with your recording schedule?”
“We want you to partner with us,” Isaac explained. “At the benefit I plan to perform a song I’ve written to honor my friend’s life. We”—he glanced around at the band, who were all nodding, then back at Ted—“would like that song to become the start of a charity EP we would release in six months. The proceeds would benefit LGBT youth programs worldwide, not just in Australia.”
Kennedy watched Isaac, awed at what she saw in his face. She’d never seen that kind of passion and determination in his eyes. Artists created, that was their passion, but though Isaac had explained about the nightmares and his inability to write, she hadn’t truly understood how devastating that must be until this moment. The Isaac beside her wasn’t empty, struggling, or afraid that the music he loved was gone forever. This man had regained the part of himself he thought was lost, and the change, the drive and excitement she sensed inside him, lit his spirit from the inside out. She found herself wanting to nurture that newfound joy with everything inside her—right after she kissed him, after she tasted the renewed Isaac on her lips and tongue. He was already in her heart; she knew that. She couldn’t wait for more.
Tad Dugan’s wheels were turning; she could see that too. Finally he nodded. “I want to hear the first single. And I want details on your appearance in Australia. If I’m happy with that, we can make a deal.”
Isaac’s smile was wide as he stood, extending his hand across the table. “Thank you.”
There was still press and the VIP meet and greet to get through. By the time they were ready to go back to the hotel, Kennedy was yawning behind her hand. Isaac chuckled as he urged her in front of him into the Escalade. “What’s the matter? Can’t keep rock-star hours?”
“Rock stars get to sleep in the next day.”
A smack landed on her ass cheek before she could get it into the back seat.
“Hey!”
Isaac chuckled as he sat next to her. “Sassy.”
If she got a spanking every time she sassed him, sitting might become a problem.
“Besides,” Isaac was saying, “you don’t have to get up in the morning. It’s Sunday, your day off.”
“Massage day,” she nearly moaned. Giving him a side eye, she said, “Don’t think you’ll be stealing my masseuse, rock star or not. Melody is mine.”
Isaac gathered her as close as he could in the limited space of the Escalade, even dragging her legs across his, tucking his mouth against the sensitive skin of her neck. “And you’re mine, sass and all.”
“You know you wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said, trying hard to ignore Nick’s grin in the seat in front of them.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Isaac straightened until he could capture her with those sea-glass eyes. “I talked to Susan during the meet and greet. Other than a couple of short promo trips, the benefit, and recording late this year, I’m pretty much free for the next six months. And I’d like to spend them with you.”
He didn’t ask, but she knew he wanted her to agree. Her life was just as
important as his, not something to run over, devastate, and disregard as her parents had. Her heart swelled, the emotion threatening to choke her as the moment dragged on and she soaked up the heat and hunger in her lover’s eyes. She’d gone from a fling kind of girl to a woman who wanted everything with the man in front of her. And because of who he was, who he’d proved himself to be, she wasn’t afraid anymore.
She lowered her chin, sending a challenging look at him from under lowered lashes. “If I say no, are you going to tie me up and torture me until I change my answer?”
Isaac’s grin was wicked and full of promise. “Of course.”
She was so going to need that massage tomorrow. “Well then…no.”
Epilogue
Isaac had asked Grace not to meet them at Sydney Airport. He’d wanted to see her, but hype over his first Australian concert had begun the minute his PR company announced the date on social media, and he didn’t want to come face-to-face with Grace with cameras flashing in their eyes and microphones thrust at him. Instead Nick and his team got them through the chaos like the pros they were, escorting Isaac and Kennedy to a car out front with a minimum fuss.
“They are a bit hungry to talk to you, yeah, boss?” Nick grinned into the rearview mirror at him.
“Of course they are,” Kennedy said, keeping a grip on his arm even as she stared avidly out the window. She’d never been to Australia. Her excitement mixed with rock-steady support had helped to get him here despite some moments when he’d stumbled. Moments when the music would elude him and he’d fall back into wondering if his gift was as lost as Oliver.
Kennedy hadn’t let him linger there. Her belief in him kept him striving forward until the spark lit again, usually after he’d spent some time with her beneath him—or above him, in his lap, against a wall…
Inventive and daring, that was his woman. The woman he intended to offer his collar when the time was right.
“And ‘Lost at Sea’ is ready?” Nick asked as their driver finished with their luggage and returned to his seat behind the wheel.
Only for the Moment Page 14
