Taut Strings: A Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  “Thanks.” He shrugged and waved for me to go in. Ezra, Silas, and Cole were already inside.

  The interior of the house was just as awe inspiring. Long, straight lines and a color palette of black, moss green, and warm wood brought different aspects of the space together. I followed Abel to the second floor, where the kitchen and the living room were, and placed myself gently on one of the kitchen stools, afraid to move anything out of place.

  Silas seemed to have no such reservations, flinging one of the cupboards open and pulling out five beer glasses that clinked on the granite countertop.

  Abel, happy to let Silas play the part of the host, grabbed an acoustic guitar from the wall and collapsed on the U-shaped couch in the living room. He started to strum a melody I hadn’t heard before, and I left the kitchen to come over to him.

  He glanced at me when the couch dipped as I sat down, but he didn’t stop his playing. It was a loose melody, and he played the same part again and again, making subtle changes and humming along.

  “Are you writing something new?” I dared to ask when he placed his hand on the strings and looked out the enormous window.

  His expression was pensive, and a muscle that ran along his neck fluttered when he began to talk. “No. It’s an old song we never released. I’ve been revisiting it to see if there’s something there. I’ve had…trouble with new material lately.”

  He strummed the guitar a few more times, then lifted his gaze to me, brushing his long hair behind his ear to reveal more of his face. The green of his eyes matched the moss-green peppered throughout his house, I realized. The color held so much depth and pain and longing that when I saw it, my breath caught. What does Abel long for?

  “You haven’t felt inspired?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I try not to force it. Not that I could even if I wanted to. It used to be that inspiration would just hit me during the most inopportune times—when I’m cooking, running, sleeping… But it’s been a while. My muse has been staying away.”

  I hummed in agreement, eager to keep the longest conversation we’d ever had going. “It’s the same with me. I’ve always thought that inspiration can’t be forced to appear, although sometimes I wonder if it’s just a convenient excuse for not being more disciplined. What if one day my muse stops her visits? Will that be the end? Or can I negotiate with her for a bit more time?”

  The corner of his lips rose by a few millimeters, but it may as well have been an earthquake if measured by its impact on my heart. “If you find out, I’d be very curious to know.”

  I stared at that goddamn corner, and as he studied my face, the air between us became charged. His right arm was slung over the guitar, while the other held the neck in a loose grip, and I took in the long, elegant fingers of his hand. What would those fingers feel like curled around my neck?

  “Food’s here,” Silas called out, breaking the tension between Abel and I. We stood up, and with one cautious look at each other, we made our way to the rest of the guys.

  After three spring rolls, one pad thai, and a papaya salad, I felt like I was about to give birth. The beers that Silas and Cole kept pouring me didn’t help. At first, I protested, telling them I still needed to drive home after this, but they insisted they’d call me a cab when I was finally ready to leave.

  We played some card games at the dining table before migrating to the couch, where I ended up being nestled between Ezra and Cole as Abel flicked through Netflix in search of a movie.

  My buzz and the proximity of the two gorgeous men was putting me in a mood. Again, for what must’ve been the hundredth time in the past two days, images of Cole and Ezra writhing over a naked woman flashed before my eyes. The woman looked suspiciously like me, and she was thoroughly enjoying whatever they were doing to her.

  I pressed my thighs closer together, a pathetic attempt to relieve the pressure building between my legs. Cole sat to my right, his legs slightly spread and stretching his jeans just enough for me to see how muscular his thighs were. His arm was resting on the couch behind my back. I leaned in an inch closer, and picked up on a subtle smoky smell.

  “Do you smoke?” I asked him.

  He dipped his chin to look at me, his face mere inches away from mine. “No. Why do you ask?”

  I blushed. “You just have a smoky smell.”

  His lips stretched into a lazy grin. “Are you getting a good whiff?”

  I punched his thigh, earning a half-hearted protest in return.

  “If you must know my secret, it’s the beard oil,” he said, his eyes still shining with self-satisfied amusement.

  I wonder how his eyes would shine right before he buried himself in me.

  This was getting out of control.

  Ezra, either being totally clueless to my current arousal, or determined to make me implode, placed his hand on my left thigh and gave it a squeeze. “What about me?”

  I pulled on my lip, trying my hardest to maintain some composure. “What, you want me to sniff you?”

  “You sniffed Cole,” he said in a jokingly accusing tone.

  Okay, so this is actually happening.

  Rolling my eyes, I turned my body to him and leaned toward his neck, knowing his scent would be the strongest there.

  “Mmm,” I hummed while I breathed him in with my eyes closed. “Something fresh, like pine and lavender.”

  Satisfied with my answer, I sat back, noticing that Ezra’s hand was still firmly on my thigh and that his blue eyes seemed a shade darker than before.

  My skin flashed hot, and when I whipped my head around to see what was taking Abel so long, I saw he was no longer looking for a movie. He was watching me and Ezra, his expression tight with something I couldn’t quite decipher.

  I sucked in a breath and flicked my gaze to Silas in the other armchair. At once, I felt guilty for flirting with Ezra and Cole after I had just rejected Silas. What the hell was I doing? The last thing I wanted to do was create problems within the band. This morning, I had convinced myself that starting anything with the guitarist would only leave me hurt, but now I was thinking about his two friends in a manner that was decidedly more than just friendly. It must have been my buzz and their history—after all, a threesome was unlikely to lead to anything serious, but even still, imagining sleeping with both of them was something I had to put an end to.

  I forced myself to study Silas’s expression. To my surprise, I didn’t see any anger or jealousy there. Instead, his brows were furrowed as if he was trying to figure something out as he watched the interaction between me and his fellow band members with his signature intensity.

  I shivered involuntarily and gave Abel a pointed look. “What are we watching?”

  12

  ABEL

  You. We’re watching you.

  I tore my eyes away from Adeline and picked some comedy on Netflix before proceeding to completely ignore it.

  Having her in my house was unsettling.

  Having her in my head was even worse.

  She’s my blood.

  Those words had ricocheted through my skull like arrows ever since she’d told us about her parents. They’d speared through old memories, pinning them to the forefront of my mind.

  In my experience, blood didn’t mean much. My father walked out on me and my mom when I was still in diapers, leaving her trying to wade through the depths of her addiction. She eventually drowned in a sea of needles and heroine, when I was nine.

  My aunt didn’t want me. My grandparents were dead. I was tossed into the foster system, and saw more families where blood was often an excuse to do unspeakable things to each other.

  It was kind of sad that her decision to selflessly support her younger sister had elevated her to a completely new level of goodness in my mind. It was hard to hate someone you thought was genuinely good.

  Her feet tapped on the carpeted floor as she watched the movie. She was sandwiched between Cole and Ezra, and a faint blush still colored her cheeks. She looked gorge
ous, even in the unflattering glow of the flatscreen TV that was playing a movie I was still ignoring.

  She must know by now that she was commanding most of our attention whenever she was around. I knew the guys well enough to understand what the lingering looks and the whispered words when they thought I couldn’t hear were all about.

  Adeline was penetrating their armor, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what they were planning, and I was too proud to ask. Cole and Ezra had been undressing her with their eyes for most of the night, seeming completely undeterred by each other’s obvious intentions. I knew they’d shared in the past, so I suppose that wouldn’t be too out of character, but I sure as hell hadn’t expected the lusty looks from Silas. Had they discussed some arrangement?

  A pang of jealousy rocked through me. Why the hell hadn’t I been involved in that conversation? Hadn’t I earned my place in whatever they were scheming with her?

  I crushed that thought like an empty beer can. No, I didn’t need to be a part of their mess. Whatever form it took, it wasn’t one that had a happy ending.

  And I’d had enough bad endings to last me a lifetime.

  Then why did you open up to her earlier?

  I sighed to myself, closing my eyes. I knew that the guys thought this house was a vanity, but for me it was more than that. Growing up, shelter was the only true leverage the foster families had over me. The prospect of living on the street had terrified me as a child, even when my mom was still alive, because I knew we were always one notice away from eviction. I didn’t want to be homeless, and that’s why I’d never been brave enough to run away.

  When I finally made enough to afford a house, I wanted to make a statement. To myself, to others, to all the people from my past that I hoped I’d never see again. My wealth was abstract, my success intangible, but this home was unarguably real.

  I designed it to project the Abel I wanted others to see. It was imposing and sleek. It kept people on their guard, even made them nervous.

  But when I saw Adeline turning in place and taking everything in, I suddenly felt like the real me was disappearing out of existence and being replaced by a fraud. The urge to show her there was more to me than this had been overwhelming.

  “Do you want to put something else on?” Adeline’s voice sent my eyes flying open.

  Her face was a mask of concern. I shook my head and moved to get up. “I’m fine.”

  I felt her gaze trained on my back as I walked toward the kitchen to grab some water. When I turned off the tap and turned around, she was standing by the fridge.

  I raked my gaze over her, taking inventory of the way her jeans cinched at her narrow waist, noting the steady rise and fall of her chest.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low. The couch faced away, and I knew the others couldn’t see or hear us over the TV.

  “I said I’m fine, didn’t I?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Back to this again?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, leaning against the counter behind me.

  She sighed. “Look, we don’t need to be friends. We don’t even need to like each other. But I’m getting tired of you treating me like an enemy combatant. The glares, the one-word answers, the snippy comments… I know you don’t give a shit about me, but I think my playing will be better if I get a break from the constant hostility.”

  Her gaze flickered down, as if she were afraid to hear my response, and I felt like an utter asshole.

  Was it fair of me to treat her like shit because I was afraid of the effect she might have on the rest of the band? That she might push them to want to keep going when I was categorically against it, because I knew that without Charlie, I was as good as done as a songwriter?

  No. It wasn’t fair. But life wasn’t fair, and by now, she should know that. Still, I supposed I could give her a bit of a break. Placing the glass down on the counter, I lifted her chin with the tip of my finger, and she sucked in a breath through parted lips. Something about that sent blood rushing straight to my dick. I ignored it and dropped my hand.

  “If it improves your performance, I suppose I can play nice,” I said, noting the fullness of her bottom lip. I wanted to sink my teeth into it.

  When I met her gray eyes once again, they had a hard look to them. “Great.”

  Who was being snippy now?

  We stood awkwardly for a few more seconds before she spun on her heel and walked back to the others. Her ass looked great in those pants, and as I watched her sit once again between Ezra and Cole, I felt that pang of jealousy again.

  Was my armor cracking as well?

  ADELINE

  Abel’s comment about being nice to me if it improved my performance pissed me off more than it should have. I’d asked him for as much, hadn’t I? So, why did I expect him to play nice for any other reason?

  Maybe it was because he’d finally started to open up to me when we’d talked about writing music. Too bad it hadn’t lasted.

  I left shortly after, coming home with every intention of going to sleep, but after an hour of restless tossing and turning between my cotton sheets, I climbed out of bed and buried my face into my palms.

  Something was eating away at me, and I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. I felt unbalanced. Off-key.

  I slipped one hand inside my underwear, thinking it might help take the edge off. Immediately, images of Ezra’s and Cole’s hard bodies flickered on the edges of my imagination. What would it feel like to have both of them inside of me at the same time? I groaned as my fingers sped up, despite knowing that I needed to stop. The more I indulged myself, the more I craved the real thing.

  Is that all you crave? Abel’s voice rang through my head.

  I know you want us there, too. That one was Silas’s.

  My eyes sprung open. I jerked my hand away. How could I possibly be fantasizing about all of them? Even Abel, who was still being a complete jerk.

  I stood up, more on edge than ever, and paced the length of my room. No, I had to find another way to get some peace of mind. Suddenly, a telltale itch appeared in the tips of my fingers.

  This, I could work with.

  I rushed to pull on a pair of jeans, and grabbed a T-shirt off the back of my chair. My muse had decided to pay a late-night visit, and I was desperate for some company.

  With my guitar in tow, I jogged to the car, sticking my keys in the ignition and cracking open my guitar case to make sure the studio keys Ezra had given me at the end of last week were still there.

  Twenty minutes later, I arrived at my destination. Having never opened the lock by myself before, it took me a few tries, but I managed to get in.

  Light seeped through the small tinted window on the door to the control room.

  I hesitated to open the door. Who could be here at this hour? What if it was an intruder trying to steal the recordings, someone who wouldn’t think twice about stabbing me to death?

  While these morbid thoughts ran through my head, the handle moved, and the door swung open. I jumped back, my heart in my throat, only to see Abel standing in a loose T-shirt and wearing a befuddled expression.

  “Adeline?” he asked, perturbed. “What are you doing here?”

  I clutched my chest, still feeling my heart race. “Holy shit, you scared me. I wanted to write, and my sister is sleeping at home, so I thought I’d come here.”

  He scanned my appearance with a tired gaze. “Looks like our muses coordinated their visits.”

  I followed him into the room and took in the surroundings. A guitar rested against the leather couch in the control room. Loose, unlined pieces of paper spilled across the smooth surface, messy writing scribbled across some of the pages.

  “You’re working,” I concluded. “I should leave. I don’t want to interrupt your creative process.”

  He gave me a long look and shook his head. “Stay. I haven’t gotten very far.”

&nbs
p; I shifted my weight between my feet, unsure. Was this him sticking to his new commitment of playing nice?

  He waved for me to take a seat and I gave in. “Hey, I never thanked you for being so cool with Molly. It meant a lot to her.”

  The couch sank under his weight, causing some of the papers to slide to the ground.

  “It was nothing.”

  “Not for her,” I insisted.

  He dismissed me with a shrug, grabbed his guitar, and strummed a few chords. “You want to hear what I’ve got so far?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He picked up the papers and tamed them into a neat pile before pulling out just two sheets and placing them on the ground at his feet.

  As the melody filled the air around us, I closed my eyes. The music had a dreamy feel to it, and I immediately liked it. It sounded different from the album we were recording, but there was a common essence that was hard to define. Something that fans of the band would undoubtedly recognize as part of their signature sound.

  I don’t think I breathed as he played. I was too afraid to do something that would cause him to stop. The chorus ended, and the melody abruptly unraveled under his hands.

  I open my eyes to see Abel furrowing his brows. “I don’t know where to go from here,” he muttered in a ragged voice.

  Something scratched at the corners of my mind, and before I knew it, my guitar was splayed across my thighs. I fingered the chords until I got the right ones and began to play his song back to him.

  Abel leaned back, listening with his forehead still furrowed. As I finished the chorus, I kept going, building on where he had trailed off, letting my subconscious lead. Something that sounded like a decent bridge started to form, but then I lost it.

  The lead singer sat up, his cheeks rippling as he hummed the next part of the song. I listened to him intently while trying to pick the right notes on my guitar.

  “Play that bridge again with the next part,” he instructed, and I did as I was told. “There’s something there.”

  “I think so, too,” I agreed. Electricity ran beneath my flesh, a sensation I recognized from whenever I was hitting my stride during songwriting.