Finding Her Rhythm (Backstage Pass Series)

by Wade, Dani

For once Daniel didn’t respond with always will. He just looked sad before shaking his head. The change in his expression—from lost soul to teasing brother—couldn’t have been more deliberate. How long had Daniel been living a lie?

  But Michael let the moment pass as Daniel spoke. “You know what it means—flying off the handle like this?”

  “I’m in love with her,” Michael murmured, letting his head drop into his hands.

  “And you’re in for one major groveling session. Do you own a set of knee pads?”

  * * *

  Taylor heard nothing over the sound of her tears. Fear, anger, and a loss she refused to acknowledge built deep in her chest. She didn't even realize anyone was in the room until arms encircled her from behind. Startled, she jerked away, but he held her fast.

  “Sh, love. Just let me hold you,” Michael said.

  She wanted to refuse, to rage against his right to touch her after his earlier words, but in truth, she'd been alone for so long she couldn't resist. It took several minutes until she finally got herself under control. Embarrassment returned, along with her awareness of the piles of clothes covering her bed and the suitcase open nearby.

  Taylor twisted out of his arms to break his hold. She stopped a few feet away. “Why are you here, Michael?”

  “To say I'm sorry. Daniel told me what happened at the hotel, that he asked you to keep it secret.” He did look contrite, but that wasn’t enough for her.

  “Okay. You've said it. Now if you don't mind, I have to pack.” She wouldn't think about the blinding panic of being out on her own again. Of leaving Michael and Matthew and McKayla behind. She would simply do what she had to do.

  “Don't go.”

  She paused midstride, unsure she'd heard him actually say the words. He might be sorry, but she hadn't expected him to backtrack that much. Staring at him, she asked, “Why?”

  Michael looked so surprised she almost felt sorry for him.

  “What do you mean, why? I want you here. With me.”

  “And again I ask, why? You obviously don't trust me. You're only giving me the benefit of the doubt because Daniel told you the truth. I can't believe you would let me near the kids now.” She grabbed a hair tie from the dresser and yanked the curly mass on her head into a low ponytail. “Is it the sex? I guess you don't have to trust me just to have sex with me.”

  Thunderclouds moved across his expressive face. “That's not why at all.”

  “Then tell me what is?” She couldn't quite believe she was pushing him this far but the hour she'd just spent experiencing abject grief meant he wasn’t getting off easy.

  Especially after tearing her heart apart.

  She'd rather end it now than entangle herself in yet another nightmare mistake. The panic rumbled deep inside, pushing at the lid she kept on her memories.

  She didn't want to leave but knew deep down that she had to.

  “I won't be used, Michael.”

  “And I don't want to use you. I made a dumbass mistake.”

  “So I overlook this time, but what about the next and the next? I'm not a toy.”

  “What?” Part of her noticed his confused expression, but the pain was leaking through the cracks in her facade. Images of another time, another man, grew in her mind until the past and present fused into one agonizing burst of agony. “I'm not something to play with when you're happy, then slap around when you’re not.”

  Michael spoke, but she couldn't hear him over the roar in her ears. Her anger gained momentum until she was yelling the words. “You're always sorry, every time, but the pain is always there. It never stops.”

  He advanced toward her, but she saw someone else. Anguish burst forth like a solar flare. As he reached out she dropped to her knees. Then reality disappeared in a storm of tears and trembling.

  When awareness returned, it was Michael's arms that sheltered her, his solid chest that supported her, and the murmur of his voice that comforted her.

  “It’s okay, Taylor. Whatever it is. I'll make it all right.” His voice soothed and settled her, brushing away her anxiety.

  Michael was nothing like Bradley. That man had never attempted to comfort her, never wanted to drop his controlling persona enough to understand her fear. To Bradley, she was an object. To Michael, she was a woman.

  But she wouldn't be a weak woman.

  Pulling away, she forced herself up and into the bathroom, where she washed her face and pulled all the little pieces of herself back into some semblance of normal.

  She returned to the room to find Michael leaning against the dresser, his long legs braced in front of him, his arms crossed over his lean chest. Why did he have to look so good?

  She made her way carefully to the clothes-covered bed and perched on the edge.

  He didn't wait to break the silence. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. It wasn't—”

  “We all have pasts, Taylor. Me especially.”

  She simply stared, afraid to ask, afraid not to.

  “Yeah, I overreacted,” he said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “You know my wife was not…faithful, to put it politely. She pretty much nailed anything that moved. The only guys who held out were Daniel and the band. Not for her lack of trying. That was the most embarrassing part.”

  “Michael, I'm sorry.”

  “I'm not making excuses. I'm not saying I don’t have issues. I'm human. But next time, just tell me what a misguided jackass I am and we can move on a lot quicker.”

  “Next time?”

  “I'm not twenty. I realize we'll probably have more than a couple of misunderstandings in this relationship.”

  “You want it to last that long?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  His blue eyes met her green ones squarely across the room, nothing held back. “I really hope so.”

  The trembling started again, but she was able to get it under control much quicker this time. She felt like reality and fantasy were colliding in an effort to cause a massive headache. When she’d imagined their next conversation, this had not been it.

  It took her several minutes to admit, “You might change your mind when you hear about my own hang-ups.”

  He smirked, all cocky, masculine security. “Try me.”

  “I can't.” Her heart pounded. The thought of making herself even more vulnerable produced nausea in the pit of her stomach.

  He stalked closer. “Taylor, I need to know what’s wrong. Don’t you think I know about the phone calls? The secrets? What is it that makes you afraid of letting me in?”

  She hadn't even been able to tell Stephen the full extent of that last night. How could she admit to Michael that she'd made such a dangerous mistake? She shook her head.

  “Okay, then,” he said, moving closer. “I guess I could always coax it out of you, step by step.”

  She didn't understand quite what he meant until metal flashed in his hands. She eyed the neat little handcuffs. “Where did those come from?”

  “I’m pretty resourceful.” His grin was wicked as he closed in, then he paused. “There’s only one problem with that,” he said.

  “What?” she murmured, her gaze glued to the cuffs.

  “Everything can’t be a game, Taylor.”

  One minute they were facing each other, the next her world turned sideways. He swept back the comforter, dumping clothes onto the floor, then settled her on her back. Somehow he ended up pressed close to her side, his leg twined through hers to hold her in place.

  Without volition her hips lifted against him, betraying her need.

  “I know, love.” His lower body inched closer, barely resting his weight across one side of her lower pelvis, then settled his palm atop the skin of her stomach, his fingers sneaking beneath the hem of her tank top. “I've been aching to touch you all morning, to fuck you,” he moaned, his hands flexing against her. “But I won't. I can't until you tell me, Taylor.”


  She wanted to ignore him, wished she could claim indifference and have it be the truth. But from day one he'd gotten under her skin. She desperately wanted him grazing on top of it now. The words rushed out. “I was involved with a man I broke up with about eight months ago.”

  He rewarded her by smoothing his palms up over the curve of her stomach, calculating her every breath. But he paused right below the bottom edge of her bra.

  “That's nice, baby, but it essentially tells me nothing.” He rubbed his thumbs back and forth along the barrier. “What happened? How did you meet?”

  Closing her eyes, she allowed his touch to mesmerize her, to take away the pain.

  “I met him about a year and a half after my parents died. Granny had settled fully into the Alzheimer’s by then. Probably a good thing. To her, my mother never existed, so she didn't have anything to grieve.”

  Those wicked fingers stroked along the outer edges of each mound.

  Somehow, the telling became easier. Especially with her eyes closed. “I, on the other hand, had lost everything close to my heart. My students, teaching got me through the day, but the nights were very, very long.”

  His touch, cradling her breasts, massaging them, pulling down the cups of her bra—it all kept her talking, even if her desire was muted by the memories.

  “The first summer after their deaths, I gathered my courage and went to a club I'd heard about. Um…a BDSM club. Dangerous, I know, but I'd been curious for a long time. Not about the pain, but…”

  He gave a gentle squeeze. “You're interested in submission.”

  She nodded. “Guess it’s pretty obvious, huh?”

  “From the moment I first touched you.” His thumbs swept across each nipple, teasing with the barest of touches.

  “Guess it was to Bradley too.”

  “You met him there.”

  “Yeah, he was new to the scene too. The first of my many mistakes.”

  “When did you realize it?”

  If his hands were still moving, she didn't notice. All that penetrated the blackness behind her eyelids was the warmth of his body along hers.

  “It slipped in gradually—a too-hard pinch here, an aggressive slap there. Every time he'd be sorry, say he’d misjudged his own strength.” Her words gained momentum, gathering speed with each confession. “Later I realized he was simply warming up for the main show. I'd been completely fooled. Thank goodness I got away with only a few bruises.”

  Michael's shudder transmitted to her and back again. She arched into his heat, desperate for human contact. No, not just any contact.

  Michael’s.

  “I'm so sorry.” He scooted closer, whispering against her ear. “I don't even know what to say. I don't want you to think of me in the same breath as him, but I don't know how to tell you that. For once, I have no words.”

  More than anything she wanted to embrace him, but she couldn’t. Rolling away from his heat, she curled into a miserable ball. “Don’t. Don’t be sorry.”

  “Why, Taylor?” He followed her, his front curving around her back as if to protect her.

  She’d thought she had no more tears, but they continued to roll down her cheeks. “I was so stupid.”

  “How?”

  That lonely ache throbbed in her chest once more. “I was alone. Scared. Sad. I just wanted someone to hold me, to make it all better.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “Even though I knew Bradley wasn’t right for me, I still stayed. The longer I stayed, the more depressed I became. It took me a long time—too long—to fight my way back. Then I had to fight him too.”

  When Michael’s arm snaked through her defenses, sneaking under her barriers to rest along her stomach and between her breasts, the cold sorrow finally started to dissipate.

  “But you did fight him, Taylor. You were very brave. You won.”

  I wish I had… “That bravery cost me a lot. More than I had the energy to pay. Some days I think I’m still paying for it.” The mistake that haunted her day in and day out.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, nuzzling his lips into her hair. “I wish I could make it all disappear.”

  But if it did disappear like it never had been, she wouldn’t be here with Michael now—loving him, holding him. Maybe she wouldn’t change it after all.

  “It’s okay,” she said after long moments of simple warmth. Two hearts beating in rhythm. Two bodies in need of comfort. “You aren't to blame for my reactions,” she said, “just like I'm not to blame for yours. We both have pasts we can't simply walk away from.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to tell him how true that really was.

  He softly stroked along her jaw. “What did I do to deserve such a wise, caring woman like you?”

  “Probably nothing,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood with a cheeky grin, “but I certainly deserve you.”

  With a wicked smile, he lifted up to sitting position, his hands returning to the disarray of her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Well, she knew what his hands were doing—picking up where they’d left off. She moaned.

  “I have a lot to make up for.”

  And when he set out to make up for something, Michael gave it his all. Over half an hour of petting, squeezing, pulling, and stroking found her naked and soaked—and his mouth hadn't even joined the party yet. He'd simply touched her, and she'd already forgotten what he’d done to upset her.

  Such a bad, irresponsible girl.

  For once she didn't care. She gave herself up to the sensation of being Michael's sole focus. When his mouth finally settled into the crook of her neck, she moaned and twisted to the side, baring the vulnerable skin for his possession. Her body writhed beneath his, eager for him to race to the finish but enjoying every minute of the journey.

  Slowly he meandered south, in no hurry of his own. He bypassed her breasts with a little sigh, murmuring against her dewy skin. “Oh, Taylor, you smell so good.” His tongue traveled around her rib cage. “I want to taste every inch of you.” His breath tickled her belly button. “I can't get enough.” He sank low between her thighs.

  Her modesty evaporated beneath his skilled touch. She let her thighs fall open, and her pelvis lift to get harder pressure from his mouth on her clit. One slow draw and her eyes rolled back in her head. Another suck and stars appeared. One more and her body went supernova.

  She didn't hear the echoes of her scream until the pounding in her ears subsided, but there wasn’t time to dwell on whether anyone might have heard her. When her eyes peeked open, Michael was tearing at the zipper of his jeans. Seconds later he pushed his way inside, her body spasming around his in delight.

  Fully seated, he crowded over her once more, kissing her with a taste all his own. She lost herself in the dark push and pull until he moved to her breasts. His hips pistoned, filling her, then retreating, while his lips suckled the stiff tips of her nipples. The combination created a tight coil of tension low in her belly, sparks of electricity feeding the frenzy, until another release hit her with the speed of a runaway train. She screamed as Michael reared back, securing her hips with his hands and driving himself to his own shout of release.

  As he curled protectively around her in the bed long moments later, she melted into him, safe in the protection of his arms.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Do you have an obsession with sex in water, or just the water itself?”

  Michael quickly smothered the laugh that would totally negate his “take control” demeanor and grumbled, “Be quiet,” as he finished securing Taylor's hands behind her back.

  He was developing an obsession with tying his little hottie up, both because it gave him a chance to do whatever he wanted to her and because she couldn't protest out of that mistaken sense of modesty or inadequacy she seemed to carry like spare luggage.

  He wanted her. All of her. And he wasn't taking no for an answer. He stepped back to view his handiwork—the muscled lines of her lightly tanned legs fading into the
pale skin of her ass. She'd gotten a little color on it from a week of him coaxing her into swimming in the buff, but it was still paler than the more often exposed parts.

  Right where the dimples at the base of her spine and the little heart-shaped shadow of tanned skin rested, her wrists met, tied together with flexible coil restraints. The cushion-covered wire ties anchored her wrists, then wrapped up her forearms in a sexy snake-like imitation. His erection throbbed in appreciation. Especially when he took in the blindfold covering her eyes. He was hitting all her buttons tonight.

  The combination made the curve of her spine seem more vulnerable, the tilt of her shoulders an attempt at bravery. It could have been. He'd discovered all kinds of hidden insecurities in Taylor, probably exacerbated by that asshole she'd left in the dust. But she was a smart woman—eventually she'd learn he loved her just the way she was, not for what she looked like or how much she tried to please him.

  Even though both were sexy as hell.

  As he slid his knuckles down that vulnerable trail, he marveled that he could admit to himself that he loved anyone besides his kids and Daniel. He'd thought that part of him was broken. But during a week of long, satisfying nights of holding her, he'd reveled in the passionate emotions she evoked in him—even though he wasn't ready to speak the words to her.

  There were still a few secrets yet to explore.

  She shifted on her feet. He smiled even though she couldn't see him. “What's the matter, babe?”

  “How long are you going to hang around back there, staring at my fa—um, ass?”

  Good catch. The first and last time she'd called herself fat in front of him, he'd spanked her ass until it glowed. Lots of fun. He slid his palm over one cheek, watching gooseflesh break out along her shoulders as his thumb traced her yummy crease. “Anxious to get started?”

  “We haven't started already?”

  “Not even close.”

  He guided her through the doors into the spectacular indulgence he'd had installed in his bathroom. He'd forgone a bathtub for a rain shower but had chosen one with walls made from swooping curves and valleys that combined to give the illusion of waves. Luckily for them, one wave in particular was the perfect height and slope for Taylor—he'd been dreaming of laying her over it almost from day one.