Sex, Decisions & Rock n' Roll (Redemption Tour #2)

by Michelle Lee

  BY THE TIME we get back to the hotel, it is nightfall and Dash’s birthday celebration is near. It doesn’t seem like anyone feels much like celebrating, especially after today’s press conference fiasco, and especially Dash. He really hasn’t said much, if anything at all. I’ve heard whispers of I’m sorry. He hasn’t let go of me, and I’m not sure if it’s to comfort me, him, or both. Lance had to calm down with Dash after Roland made some snide comment that I didn’t apparently hear. Dash looked like he was about to murder Roland. They had hushed words across from each other in the limo, heads bowed together. Whatever Lance said to him had worked. Once the limo pulls up to the hotel, the paparazzi are there as well as a horde of fans. I’m not surprised. This is something I’ve gotten used to, and who thought I ever would?

  Alex comes around the car and escorts myself and Val out and through the crowd. A few paps yell questions about how it feels to just be friends with Dash, but Val tugs on my arm, guiding me forward without stopping to answer. Not that I would. I wouldn’t even know what to say, and the way I feel I would probably just start crying at their harsh comments. Once we’re inside, I turn to see the guys getting out and the paparazzi descend upon them like vultures on a carcass left on the side of the road. Roland is in his element, playing to the crowd as if he’s feeding the guys to them. I really never thought I would ever hate another person other than Blake, but I was wrong… I hate Roland Adams with every fiber of my being. He somewhat reminds me of… I shake my head. That’s just ridiculous; Blake and Roland may both be cruel, but in very different ways. I did get the strangest feeling when he called me Julia. It reminded me of how Blake would use my legally given name. I’m sure Roland was just doing it to get under my skin and prove every point he thinks is important—that being I don’t belong with Dash. And unfortunately a part of me agrees with him.

  The elevator doors open and the three of us step inside, along with a few other guests. My eyes are fixated on the scene outside, and right before the doors close Dash’s eyes meet mine, and what I see in them breaks my heart—regret. I just hope that regret has nothing to do with our relationship, him regretting it, but somewhere deep inside where the blackness swirls thinks that’s exactly what he regrets. Val’s arm wraps around my shoulder, hugging me to her. I lean my head on her shoulder and welcome the comfort she offers. I just wish it were enough.

  I don’t feel like going back to my room. I need to be close to Dash, and since he is otherwise engaged with the mayhem outside the hotel, I let myself in his room. I immediately go right to the bed. Even though the sheets have been changed, I hug the pillow, inhaling deeply. His scent isn’t there; it’s been washed away. I feel the back of my eyes burn with unshed tears when I spot his shirt on the chair across from the bed. Getting out of bed, I walk across the room on shaky legs as the first wave of emotion pours out of me. It’s with blurry eyes that I grab the shirt and bring it to my nose—it smells like him. I inhale deeper, allowing Dash to invade my senses. It’s calming. I make my way back to the bed, nuzzling his shirt, and let the tears I’ve held back since the press conference fall. I need to get this all out now before he comes back. I need to purge this so I can move on. I need… I just need the one thing, the person I need more than anything right now, isn’t here. I lay my head down on the pillow, cuddling his shirt as the emotional storm I’ve let out rises and crests until after a few moments subsides to a dull rush. My eyes grow heavy and before I know it, darkness surrounds me and I succumb to its peacefulness.

  THE SUN IS starting to set when I wake up. I glance over at the clock on the side table, and it’s only four thirty. The room is basked in the sun’s warm rays, the colors of orange, pink, and a deep red fill it. Besides the colors, I notice the room is empty—Dash hasn’t come back yet. My heart aches and my stomach twists in knots while every possible hurtful scenario bombards my mind. Clenching my eyes shut, I push those unwanted thoughts down… down… down… down. I’m jumping to conclusions. I’m overreacting. There’s a very logical explanation as to why Dash hasn’t come back yet. I need to hold on to that and allow those thoughts to fill me and squash everything else. I reach for my purse on the floor, fishing out my phone. My heart accelerates as I see a text message from Dash. My finger hesitates a moment before finally clicking on it.

  Dash: Sunshine, I love you. I had to do some interviews Roland forgot to tell me about. Please wait for me. I love you. You’re my heart. I love you.

  My heart slows to a steady beat, my mind at ease. I knew there was a logical explanation. I knew it. Dash hated what he had done at the press conference. He repeatedly told me sorry over and over on the way back to the hotel. I’m sure Roland purposely kept the interviews a secret so at the last minute Dash wouldn’t be able to get out of it. I wonder if Val knew; something tells me she didn’t, otherwise she would have mentioned it in the elevator.

  I’ve only been asleep for less than an hour. I still have time to run out and hopefully find something for Dash’s birthday, since I was unsuccessful already. With renewed confidence, I go into the bathroom and clean myself up. Once I’m all set, I make my way out of the room, into the elevator, and walk right through the lobby. A few paparazzi straggle outside, and my steps falter as I approach the exit. Taking a deep breath and giving myself a little pep talk, with my head held high I walk right out and right through them—ignoring their questions, their comments. Seeing they’re not going to get a reaction from me, they eventually leave me alone. I walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the twilight air in search of the perfect present for the perfect man.

  I wander from store to store, not having much luck. It seems the perfect gift doesn’t exist. My feet are getting tired and the sky is getting darker when I decide to head back, disappointed. What the hell am I going to do now? I can’t give him nothing for his birthday. What kind of girlfriend am I? Oh, wait, the awful kind. How could I… As I am mentally berating myself, something catches my eye in the window I pass by. I stop, and what I see brings the biggest smile to my face. The most beautiful acoustic guitar is on display. The wood is so dark it’s almost black. The light in the corner of the display shines down on it, making it almost glisten. It’s the most beautiful guitar I’ve ever seen. My heart rate accelerates, and my body vibrates with excitement. With eager footsteps I make my way into the small shop. This is it. This is the perfect present for Dash.

  I HAD DECIDED to get ready in Dash’s room. Val asked why I even got my own room in the first place. I asked myself the same question. And the only answer I could come up with was that I was scared if when I got here and Dash didn’t want me anymore, I would have some place to go to fall apart in peace before catching the first plane I could back to Seattle. She said she knew that wouldn’t have happened and that I should have had more faith. That was what Dash had told me as well. I think today proved I have more faith in me, in him, and in us. After spraying some vanilla body spray all over, I take one last look in the mirror just as the door opens. I turn to find Dash standing in the doorway, his mouth gaping open, looking confused. It’s as if he’s surprised to see me standing here in his room—waiting for him. Doesn’t he know I will always wait for him?

  His steps are purposeful as he makes his way toward me. Before I can utter a single word, Dash pulls me against him, his lips seeking mine. I easily open up to him, his tongue tangling with mine. This kiss is heated and desperate. I feel the desperation in Dash’s lips, tongue, and his hands. He’s gripping at me, as if I’m going to be evaporate right before his eyes. I kiss him back with so much, trying desperately to let him know that I’m his and that I will always be here for him as long as he will allow me to. Hopefully forever. His lips trail to my jaw and to my neck. A wave of arousal washes over me, and I so need to feel every inch of this man holding me like I am the most precious thing in the world. His teeth tug at my ear lobe causing goose bumps to break out over my entire body. I shiver. “God, I didn’t think you’d be here.” His breath tickles my ear. How can he even think t
hat?

  I push back against him, as much I don’t want to. “Dash.” His name feels like a prayer on my lips. His forehead rests against mine, our breathing labored, mingling together between us. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Dash.” Dash’s eyes open, and when they look into mine, they are glistening with unshed tears. My heart breaks for this beautiful man before me; he should never have to shed a tear—ever. I reach up, caressing his cheek; it prickles my palm. He leans into my touch; his eyes never leave mine. “Talk to me, Dash, please.”

  Taking a deep breath, he answers, “I thought after that fucking fiasco with the press conference and then the interviews, you wouldn’t be here waiting for me. I thought that I had pushed you too far and…”

  I reach up, pressing my lips to his, silencing him. “I love you. I love everything about you, Dash Ford. And yes, what was said… I’m not going to lie, it hurt… it hurt like hell… but… but I understand it… this is your life… all the glitz and glamor and all the ugly parts too… and I want to share that life with you… I have faith, Dash, I have faith in you, in us, and finally in me.”

  “How did I get so fucking lucky?”

  “The same way I did.” My hand snakes around his neck, pulling his lips to mine. This kiss is the opposite of when he first came into the room. There is no desperation laced in it, only calmness, only love. As much as I would like to continue and see where this goes, there is a party waiting for us downstairs. Reluctantly, I pull away. Dash pouts, and it makes me want to tug and suck on his lips. And have his lips do other things to me.

  “They’re waiting for us. Are you ready to celebrate?”

  “Nope. I just want to stay right here with you.”

  “Dash, we, um, you, um, need to get ready. They are expecting us downstairs shortly.”

  “Fuck ‘em,” he growls, nuzzling my neck.

  “Dash, it’s your birthday party,” I remind him.

  “Fuck it.”

  “Dash, if we don’t go to your party, I can’t give you your surprise birthday present,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster. My body’s response to his touch isn’t helping.

  “Surprise?” That got his attention.

  “Yes, surprise.”

  “You got me a surprise?” He sounds like a little kid.

  “Yes, now go shower and get ready. And make it quick, or I may give your present to someone else,” I tease.

  “No way—that present is mine.” He gives me one more deep kiss before heading to the bathroom. And just like that, my playful Dash is back.

  “OKAY, MINE’S NEXT,” Vic announces, shoving a box in Dash’s direction.

  Dash hesitates and then slowly unwraps his present. When he looks inside, his eyes bug out of their sockets and he nearly chokes. “Vic?” The tone in Dash’s voice is playful mixed with annoyance. I can only imagine what Vic gave him.

  “Yep, maxi pads for when you’re on the rag. And don’t act like you never are, cause you are from time to time. It’s gotta explain your mood swings. Oh and the Geritol, well that’s self-explanatory. I mean, you are pushing those golden years,” he jokes, but his expression is serious.

  Dash punches him as hard as he can, but to Vic it probably just feels like an annoying mosquito bite. The guy is built like a freaking Mac truck.

  “Thanks, Vic,” Dash says sarcastically.

  “Anytime, bro, anytime,” he chuckles.

  “So, now that the adolescent antics are out of the way, here’s my gift,” Lance interjects.

  He hands Dash a blue, foiled-wrapped box. It looks somewhat heavy even though it’s thin. Dash unwraps it, revealing the contents to be a brown, leather-bound book, with Dash’s initials embossed on the cover. He opens the book, and nestled inside are clean music sheets all marked with “composed by Dash Ford.”

  “Lance, this is… wow, this is great.”

  “Well, I heard you were composing again, so I thought these would help,” he responds with a wink in my direction. I told Lance about the song Dash wrote for me. It’s so different from what the band plays—classical, dramatic, so me; so my type of music. Apparently, Dash used to compose all the time before his sister passed away, and when that happened, so did his desire to compose anything that wasn’t band related. Lance said there’s a reason I’m Dash’s Sunshine. Dash turns to look at me, and I give him my biggest, happiest smile.

  “Thank you, Lance. These will definitely get used,” I reply.

  “Alright, Ford, open mine now,” insists Val. She hands him a small wrapped box. Dash tears away the paper, opens the box, and find inside a single key.

  “Val, I, I don’t get it. You bought me a um, key?” he inquires, a little confused.

  “The key opens the present. It’s the key to my cabin, which will be unoccupied when you guys get off tour. I thought you could use some R and R, and the place is just perfect for that, especially if you don’t want any prying eyes or lenses,” she informs him.

  Dash turns to me, the key dangling from his finger, the corner of his mouth turns up, and he gives me my favorite crooked smirk and his eyes… my God, his eyes darken to the most amazing blue. And the way he’s staring at me makes my core tighten, my thighs clench, and I tingle all over. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Val is giving Dash and me a place to get away for when he gets back. I can’t believe she never mentioned it to me. Not once did she say that she was giving up her cabin for us. I turn my eyes to Val and mouth “thank you,” although that doesn’t quite cover it.

  “Thank you, Val, this is truly unexpected. I… we really appreciate this. I can’t wait to get back and use it.”

  Roland hasn’t shown up yet, and honestly I’m beyond grateful. I can’t help but wonder where he is, though, and what he’s up to. Squashing my anger that’s bubbling inside, I quietly lean over to Dash and whisper in his ear, “I would love to give you your birthday surprise, but not here. After the cake, meet me up in your room in fifteen minutes.” And as if on cue, the waiter brings in a cake in the shape of a guitar with sparkles lit all around it. Everyone erupts in a very off-key rendition of happy birthday.

  “Go ahead, Ford, make a fucking wish already before the fire department is called because your candles burned down the place. I mean, thirty candles is waaayyy too many for a smoke detector to ignore,” Vic’s booming voice bellows.

  Dash closes his eyes, his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth. I wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s wishing. I know what I would be wishing for, and for some reason, I think we might be wishing for the same thing. Dash’s eyes flash open, his lips pucker into a perfect “O,” and he blows. Every sparkler and candle is snuffed out.

  Before anyone can say anything, and since they are preoccupied with the passing around of pieces of cake, I slink out of my seat and head toward the exit. My heart goes into hyper-drive, my palms get clammy, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I glance over my shoulder before pushing my way out of the door and notice everyone is engrossed in conversation or eating cake. Everyone except for Dash; his eyes are focused solely on me. The fire and lust that is burning in them could incinerate me on the spot. I mouth “I love you,” and he mouths it back right before I turn back around and leave.

  I am a ball of nervous energy as I sit on the bed waiting for Dash. There are so many thoughts swirling around in my head, causing me to doubt myself, to doubt my present. I just hope he likes it. When I explained to Val what I had planned, she thought it was ridiculous that I would think Dash wouldn’t like it. Actually, she told me I should get my head examined if I thought that.

  I glance at the clock, and it’s been almost fifteen minutes since I left Dash. Val said she would make sure Dash left on time, but now I’m thinking maybe she was too busy to notice and he’s not going to show. Maybe he’s having so much fun he doesn’t want to leave just yet. See, I’m doubting myself. I know Val wouldn’t let me stay longer than he needed to. And the way Dash looked at me when I was going to leave told me without a
doubt he would be here right on time. Before I can contemplate any more ridiculous scenarios, I hear the door open and then click closed.

  “Jules?”

  I say nothing. I don’t think I could if I wanted to. A nervous lump has taken residence up in my throat, preventing the use of language at the moment. I want him to find me.

  “Sunshine?” he calls out again. I take a deep breath and start to strum the guitar. Lance gave me a quick lesson earlier while Dash was doing interviews solo. I just hope I play it well enough that he can figure it out. As I play, my eyes are fixated on the closed door to the bedroom. The knob begins to turn.

  When he enters the room, Dash stops in the doorway. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed while playing his present. It’s a Breedlove Revival OM-M acoustic guitar. Apparently, it’s a very rare and sought-out guitar. I was lucky to find it in a shop I stumbled upon when I went out after the press conference. The guitar is nestled in my lap, and all I’m wearing are the red stilettos I had on with my dress and a red bow on top of my head—the guitar isn’t his only present. Dash’s gaze lingers on the guitar for a moment and then his eyes scan my entire body, noticing for the first time that I’m wearing nothing. I close my eyes because if I don’t, I know I will mess up playing as he continues to watch me. I continue to play happy birthday and taking a peek through my eyelashes, I see Dash standing there with fire in his eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. I notice the vein in his neck straining. My rock star is trying his damnedest to control himself and allowing me to take the lead.