Damaged Hearts (Book 2, Rock Star Romance)

by McAdams, Mia

  I stroke her hair, trying to comfort her. “I’m calling the label tomorrow, but I already gave them a heads-up. They’re going to find us a new manager and fire Crawley’s ass. It’s going to be hard for him to find work after this, which is a good thing.”

  Lyric nods. “I don’t understand how he knows Destiny. I mean, I guess everyone in the business knows each other to some extent. I suppose they’ve run into each other before.” She looks up at me with confused eyes. “Maybe she was trying to get backstage to see me and ran into him.”

  I shrug. That’s the conclusion I came to, as well. But it doesn’t add up. “But why my tour bus? Why my room? He obviously lied to Rory and Rex about why he needed to get on the bus, and they thought nothing of it. But why?”

  Lyric sighs. “Your bus is the only one with a big bed and a door. It’s the best place to fuck, if that’s what you’re after.”

  I suppose she’s right. “Those days without you on that bus were the worst. I didn’t know what to do with myself. All I could imagine was that I had to figure out how to deal with the rest of my life without you, and it killed me.”

  Her forehead wrinkles with her frown. “You have my word, Wolf. You’ll never feel like that again.”

  I kiss her wrinkles away. “It’s your fault. I’ll never get enough of you.”

  She moans and nuzzles her chin into me. “Good, because I want you again.”

  I gasp as her hand slides down my stomach and finds my limp dick. I hate when it’s not ready for her, but she didn’t exactly give me much time.

  Her smile is endearing as she slides down my body until her mouth is hovering over my growing erection. She licks her lips and then takes a taste of the tip. When she closes her eyes, it’s like she’s just sampled her favorite dessert. I’m thickening for her as she goes in for seconds, hardening just in time to watch her take me in. My jaw goes slack. She’s working me like a melting Popsicle, taking me deep, sucking as she pulls back. When she swirls her tongue at the tip, I growl. She bats her eyes at me in amusement, and they lock on mine as she takes me again.

  “You hungry, babes? I love your mouth on me.”

  Her mouth slides away from my cock entirely, and I think she might ride me now. Fuck. I’m dying to see her tits bouncing above me. But in good ol’ Lyric fashion, she surprises me. Seconds later, her pussy is hovering over my face and my dick is back in her mouth. This time, she’s going all out, stroking me with her hand while sucking me off. I’m already about to lose it, so I flatten my tongue on her clit. I use my hands to spread her lips and then suck on her clit until she moans.

  I unleash my tongue on her at a rapid speed, and I feel my cock hit the back of her throat. Her hand works me furiously until she’s sucking and drinking me dry. I pant into her heat, too overcome with sensations to continue mouth-fucking. “Holy shit,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  She giggles and rolls onto her back. That sound gives me the energy I need to finish her off. I move down her body and spread her legs as wide as they’ll go. Her pink lips are glistening. I kiss them as I would her mouth—unbridled and passionately. Her screams are the most beautiful sound paired with her shaking limbs as an orgasm overtakes her minutes later.

  We’re in each other’s arms again, and I know this is my heaven.

  Lyric

  Walking might be a problem today. My muscles are screaming at me from the all-day sex-fest with Wolf. He’s never pounded me so hard, which is surprising given his injury, but I wasn’t about to stop him. We were both sex-starved. Making up for lost time, I guess. I’ll never get enough of him, either. I smile, remembering his words, as I fill the last plate with food.

  “Breakfast is ready!” I call into the intercom because the house is so big and everyone seems to still be sleeping. I’m not about to start pounding on doors.

  One by one, band members and crew come out from their bedrooms. Everyone is groggy from the party last night. Wolf and I came out of our bubble for about an hour to socialize with everyone, but we weren’t in the mood to get rowdy. There would be plenty of time for that.

  Wolf stumbles over to me, fresh from a shower, and wraps his arms around my waist. “You left me with morning wood. We should go back to bed.”

  I laugh and spin around to face him. “Are you going for a world record? Don’t you need a break?”

  “Fuck no,” he growls playfully, but the intensity behind his words makes me hot. “My dick can’t behave around you. He lives for you.”

  I melt a little, even though he’s talking about the stick between his legs and not him. I know Wolf loves me, so it’s not something I dwell on. “Tell your friend down there he can have me all he wants later. You guys need to eat and get to the studio.”

  Wolf’s eyes light up. “You coming with us? It’s our song, babe.”

  The reminder that “Dangerous Heart” played a part in how we got here makes me smile. “Yes, I’ll come for a little bit today, but I can’t stay. I really do have a shitload to do for Europe.”

  He nods. “Fair enough.”

  With a quick kiss, he takes a seat and digs into his food. Almost everyone has a plate now. I’ve never made so many eggs in my life.

  “Babe,” Wolf yells from the other room as I’m in the kitchen doing dishes. “Get your ass in here and eat.”

  I roll my eyes, start the dishwasher, and join everyone at the table. Wolf motions for me to sit with him since the seats are taken. He pulls me to his lap and feeds me scrambled eggs while kissing my arm.

  I try not to laugh as I chew my first bite. “Stop,” I say, waving away another bite. “I can feed myself.”

  “Oh shit,” Hedge calls from the other end of the table. “Not only are they back together, but they’re going to make us all sick with it.”

  I laugh as Wolf tosses a piece of bread at his head. “Don’t be a dick. We don’t need a replacement for Crawley. Well, we do, but you know what I mean. You should work on getting yourself a girl this week.”

  Hedge lets out a loud laugh. “I can have a girl whenever I want, shitface. You remember what that’s like.” He winks at Wolf, making my stomach unfurl. “I’m not looking to settle down anytime soon like you chumps.”

  Lorraine stands up with her plate. “I’m with Hedge. Nothing wrong with being single. We’re still young. And sexy as hell.” She grins and tosses Wolf a look. “It wasn’t that long ago we were all single.” She looks at me and winks. “No offense.”

  I turn to catch Wolf’s hard expression. I’m not oblivious to his past, but I don’t want to imagine Wolf as the ladies’ man everyone talks about. He’s completely devoted to me, and I know it. There’s no reason to question his feelings now. His eyes catch mine, and his expression softens. I lean in to kiss his cheek and then move to his ear. “I love you.”

  His skin bristles beneath my mouth. With a quick scrape of his chair, Wolf has me in his arms and abandons the breakfast table. “You can eat later.”

  I giggle as he carries me to the bedroom and drops me onto the bed.

  The moment we enter the recording studio, I feel the same sense of familiarity I felt when we entered the Aragon last month. Excitement rushes through me as memories of great times with my father fill my mind. It’s a little overwhelming. All of it is intensified by what Doug told me.

  My father’s in town, and he’s hanging out at the studio. He’ll want to see me. As a kid, the studio was my favorite place to visit. This one especially. The acoustics streaming from all angles was part of what made me fall in love with music in general. This is how all music should be heard—tuning the whole world out and leaving nothing but the music to the point that you can feel it humming through you.

  Wolf must notice something in my expression because he pulls me into his arms and his gaze searches mine. “You okay?”

  I nod quickly, not wanting to make this day about myself. It’s hard not to be anxious, though. “I’m perfect.” I lift up onto my t
oes and give him a peck on the lips. “Kill it, baby.”

  He winks and pats my ass. “You know I will.”

  The guys enter the large, soundproof room. Instruments are laid out just as if they were onstage. I smile when Wolf removes his shoes. That’s exactly what my dad used to do, and so I’d follow his lead when I’d join him in the music box, as I used to call it. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the feels that are about to come through the studio speakers.

  It’s so much better than I was prepared for.

  The moment the guys start to play, the sound fills my body. Fills my soul. It’s like I’m hovering above it all, soaking it in. The emotions are heavy, especially when Wolf’s voice filters through the speakers. The tranquility of the sound is broken up by Wolf’s cussing.

  “Shit. I’m sorry,” he apologizes while removing his guitar. “I need more rest on this hand. Can we get a backup to play guitar on this, Larry?” Wolf’s speaking to the engineer, and I cringe when I hear his hand hurts him. He should have been icing it all yesterday and the night before instead of trying to pleasure me.

  The engineer calls someone on the phone, and in minutes they have a guitarist standing in for Wolf, practicing from the sheet music before they record. Wolf helps him through it to help speed things along, but the guy is a true professional. In less than half an hour, he’s telling Wolf he’s ready. The guys immediately go back to work, deep in the zone of their music.

  I stay until lunchtime. My stomach rumbles, and it doesn’t look like the guys are going anywhere soon. Not wanting to disturb them, I shoot Wolf a quick text message telling him I’m going back to the house and sneak out the door.

  Instead of turning down the hallway that will take me to the main lobby, I head in the other direction and peer into the familiar sound studios. They’re all set up differently, arranged to provide different sounds for the artists. There’s even a theater on the other side of the building where I first learned to play piano. Well, the basics. “Hot Cross Buns” was about all I could play at the age of four, but I was thrilled to perform it for my father.

  The theater still looks the same. Smaller. Funny how that happens. And the piano looks new. I smile as I walk toward the stage, running my fingers along the edges of the seats as I pass them.

  This room. So many dreams were thought up in this space. I could never sit in the studio for too long. Sometimes my dad and his crew got too intense, so I would wander and find myself here in this room. Just like any other little girl would, I sat at the piano and dreamt of performing to a crowded room.

  I climb the steps of the stage and sit in front of the beautiful keys, letting my fingers slide across them without pushing down. White, black, white, black, white . . . I test a few notes. And then a chord. I close my eyes as I feel it and remember how the music captured me at such a young age. This was my home for so long—just the piano and me. We could be anything, create anything. And it was magic. At least it felt like magic. Expressing myself was never a difficult thing for me, but finding someone to listen seemed to be a challenge. The piano listened. It took my beatings, it embraced my pain. And it spit out my truth, making the most beautiful melodies.

  At some point I start playing nothing in particular. My fingers are all over the keys. I play as if I never stopped, and it feels . . . Damn. My eyes are still closed, and I try to remember how long it’s been since I last played. I was eighteen, and I stopped playing just as my mom walked into the house, knowing she didn’t deserve to hear the sounds I was making. Four, five years ago? It’s like riding a bike. My fingers play a melody though I can barely remember where it came from.

  The tune radiates through my entire body, and I’m right back to where my happy place once was. I forget the drama, forget the reason I abandoned my intimacy with the music. It’s safe to feel it. But to create the music—that’s where the scary begins. Nothing about this feels scary, though. And I’m not about to let it.

  For the first time in years, I feel the release that used to light me up when I was a teenager. When anything felt possible. When dreaming was the first step to an entire world of possibilities.

  “Now that’s a sound I didn’t think I’d ever hear again. Beautiful, pumpkin. Just beautiful.”

  At hearing my dad’s voice, I slow my fingers to a stop as my heart picks up the pounding melody in my chest. I turn my head to face him. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle the emotions already building within me. Our eyes connect. “Dad.”

  He’s smiling. A bright, familiar smile that fills my heart with a lot of the pieces that have been missing. There are extra creases across his brow line and around his eyes, but he looks the same. Charismatic as ever. Strong. Confident. Tired. His strides are long, and his eyes never leave mine. Realizing I’ve just been staring at him, I step away from the piano and hop off the short stage to greet him.

  He hugs me, and I breathe him in. He smells the same. His aftershave is cool and sharp, the opposite of his personality, but it’s familiar and comforting. Commanding. There are tears in my eyes before I can stop them.

  His hold is firm. It’s been almost two years since I’ve seen him, but the distance has been more my fault than his. The pain and suffering I went through with my mother made me cold toward my father. In a way, I blamed him for how she treated me. If he hadn’t sent me away to live with her, it never would have happened.

  She never would have stolen my childhood—my trust. Thank God she never stole my love for music, but she stole my dream of sharing my music with the world, and that’s pretty bad. She gave me a dose of reality I would never wish on anyone. And the only way to be certain that doesn’t happen is to cut all ties with her.

  “It’s so good to see you, pumpkin.”

  His words squeeze at my heart, and I pull back to get a closer look at him. I smile. It’s a small smile, but he reacts with a smile of his own. “It’s good to see you, Dad. What are you doing here?”

  He cocks his head. “I’m here to see you. Taking some time off between tours and writing. I think it’s the first real break I’ve given myself since you went to live with your mother. I’ve been doing this for a long time, pumpkin. A little time off was due, and I hoped we could spend some time together. Only if you want to.” He sighs and looks around the room. “Other than that, I have no clue what to do with myself.”

  He smiles. Even after all the time apart, I know my father. He’s scared of the time off. Wolf used to share the same fears. “It’ll be good for you.”

  “I hope so. You look good, pumpkin. You sound good, too. Better than I remember.”

  I blush. He doesn’t know it’s the first time I’ve played in years.

  “So, Europe, huh?”

  I move to sit at the edge of the stage, and he follows. “Yup, next week. The boys have some crazed, obsessed fans over there, so things will get interesting.”

  He nods, but I can tell he has something else on his mind. “Things okay working with the band? I heard about all the trouble. Hopefully the company took care of you.”

  I make a face, suddenly uncomfortable. This conversation will lead to my relationship with Wolf, and I’m not sure how to talk about that with him. It’ll be hard to avoid it, but it sounds like he already knows most of it. “I’m okay. Hoping things return to normal, but what Tony did . . .” I scrunch my nose in fury. “He’s repulsive.”

  My dad nods. “I’d say so. The story died quickly, though. He’s scum, and everyone knows his career will be over before long. He doesn’t have what it takes to last in this business. Not many do. I’d say that Wolf character has a better chance.”

  He looks at me as his brow lifts.

  “Wolf has what it takes,” I say confidently. “He’s a good guy. Passionate about his music. Makes smart decisions. Cares about his fans, his band. He treats those closest to him like family. He reminds me of you.” I smile because I never thought about that before now.

  “Doug tells me he ca
res a great deal for you.”

  “Dad,” I moan.

  He chuckles. “C’mon, pumpkin. I didn’t get to be the father who kept the boys away with my shotgun. Let me have some fun.”

  I laugh. “He does care about me. Okay? Happy?” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I almost messed things up pretty good, but we’re working things out.”

  “You still writing?”

  My laughter ceases, and I immediately retreat into my turtle shell. The walls that Wolf broke through were built because of my parents—mostly my mother. “I haven’t written in the past week, but I’m writing some.”

  “ ‘Dangerous Heart.’ That’s yours, isn’t it?”

  My jaw drops, and I throw my arms up. “How does everyone know about that? I turned it over to Wolf. No one should have ever known that I wrote it.”

  My dad smiles. “Pumpkin, I would know your writing whether you were working for the guy or not. You didn’t arrange it, though, did you?”

  I shake my head, amazed at how well my father knows me even after years apart. “You know I don’t arrange anymore. Wolf found the song after I trashed it and loved it so much he put it to music. I was enraged at first, but then we made a deal. His silence for my song. He’d rather tell the world I’m the one who wrote it, but he respects my privacy.”

  “He respects you. I like him more than Tony already.”

  “You didn’t even know Tony, Dad.”

  His eyes grow wide. “I met the shit pile. Twice, if you remember correctly. Pumpkin, you may have been mad at me for the past six years, but I tried to stay in your life as much as you’d let me. He opened for me before you met him. Hated him then. And then I came out to Vegas once and had dinner with you two. He was a real charmer. Knew I couldn’t trust him for shit.”

  I laugh incredulously. “Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

  He glares at me, his lips curved up in amusement. “You already hated me, Lyric. I wasn’t about to fuck things up more than they already were. Besides, you were an adult, and I’ve always trusted you to make your own decisions. Eventually you would realize the errors of your ways.”