The Redemption Page 6

  As I strip off my shirt and jeans, he suddenly gets this cocky expression on his face as he lets the door slam shut. “Don’t let me stop you from getting naked or anything, but what happened to two steps back?”

  In just my bra and thong, I sit down on the edge of the bed. He moves closer as if he has no other choice. His eyes trace up and down my body leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of his heated gaze. I lean back on my elbows while he stands between my legs, his fingertips touching the tops of my thighs and slowly sliding down on the inside.

  My thighs tighten in response and he smirks. With a teasing smirk of my own, I crawl up the bed, giving him full view of my ass, climb under the covers, and snuggle in before we cross a line we know we shouldn’t. I hear his heavy, impatient sigh as I pat the bed next to me. “Well, c’mon. Let’s get our sleep on.”

  His shirt is over his head and off, his jeans dropped just as fast. He slips under the covers and I immediately move to lie against his side. We lay there in silence for a few minutes. I find comfort when I hear his steady heartbeat, then whisper, “How about just one step back?”

  “Deal,” he says, then kisses the top of my head. He stretches and turns off the bedside lamp and gets more comfortable while I stay wrapped around him. “I think I’m gonna like this stepping back friends business.”

  This new plan, the deal I made with Dex, seemed like such a good idea at first. But when I woke up in his arms just before noon, I wanted to stay. I couldn’t though. He had to get up to catch a flight to Boston for the next show and I needed to get back to LA.

  This was only supposed to be a short trip when I planned it. But something about having his body wrapped around me made me want to see if Janice wouldn’t mind keeping the boys another night.

  “You should probably go,” Dex says, his voice husky with sleep.

  “What?” I tilt up to find him smirking down at me. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because this feels too good. And if you’re not careful, I might have to steal you away and take you with me.”

  “What if I came voluntarily?”

  “That’s the plan.” The double meaning is exaggerated by his hand slowly running up the side of my body and back down again. He sits up and rubs his face before pushing his hair back. “So you gonna come?”

  “And you call me dirty.”

  He laughs, then says, “Not dirty, kinky.” He leans in really close, his lips against my ear. “There’s a difference and I’m more than happy to explore that kinky side with you… and the dirty side.”

  “You’re too kind,” I say in response to his words tickling my neck and making me tingle in other ways. “Thanks for volunteering.”

  And there’s that smile again, the one that shoots straight to my heart when he says, “I’m here to please, sweetheart.”

  I really shouldn’t like his arrogant side as much as I do, but I don’t bother hiding it. “You’re making it very hard to leave this bed.”

  “Then don’t. Stay with me. Stay in bed with me. We’ll catch a later flight or rent a car and drive together.”

  “You’re making me an offer I’m finding hard to resist. I want to go. I really do, but I need to check. It would only be for one night—”

  “I’ll take one more night over nothing.”

  “You have a show tonight. Sound check, meetings—”

  His fingers run along my cheekbone, pushing back strands of hair that lie across my cheek. “Don’t think about the time we don’t have. Think of what we have when we’re together.”

  I close my eyes under his soothing touch. “I’m scared, Dex. What if this doesn’t work out?”

  “Don’t be scared.” After drawing in a slow breath, he says, “If all we ever have is one more night together, the rest of the nights won’t matter.”

  I can tell he wants to kiss me as we stare into each other’s eyes. I’m not opposed to the idea myself as our breaths mingle between us. I close my eyes and lean forward, but instead of a kiss, he whispers, “One step back.” A gentle reminder of what I put in place as he drags his fingertip lightly over my lips, his gaze savoring them.

  “And what if I don’t want to take a step back?” I sulk, rejection covering my heart.

  “That’s my good cuddling skills talking right there. Once I let you leave, you’ll realize you were just under my spell.”

  Now my cynical side comes out. “Cuddling skills, really?” I roll onto my back.

  “Yeah, cuddling skills. I’m a master, but it’s not something I work on. It’s like a gift the ladies can’t resist.” My silence must speak for me because he adds, “Trust me, once you leave my arms, you’ll realize how powerless you really were while in the throes of my amazing cuddles.”

  “I didn’t know guys cuddled?”

  “Damn right guys cuddle, but I just happen to be a master, an artiste, an expert in the field.”

  “Does that make you a cudster or an arddle?”

  “I’m thinking it makes me more of a perddle, but that’s just a personal preference.”

  I sit up. “I’m gonna get up now and see if my common sense comes back.”

  “Wait.” He grabs my waist. “Just one more time.”

  I tilt my head, then start to laugh. “Okay, I’ll let you cuddle me one more time.” I snuggle into his side and his arms tighten around me. When my body relaxes, my eyes start to close again.

  “I win. I’m the cuddle king.”

  Even though I love being with him this way, I roll my eyes and sarcastically repeat after him, “You win, Oh great cuddler.” A minute more in his arms and I finally look up. “Are we still doing this?”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’m happy to oblige.”

  “What about Boston? Do I get these kinds of snuggles there?”

  “If you come to Boston, I’ll give you whatever you like.”

  “Tempting.” When his erection presses against my leg, I say, “So are you. Too tempting most of the time.”

  He drags his finger slowly down my neck and over my collarbone, stopping just at the top of my right breast. “I’m struggling here, but for you, I’ll live with tempting for now.”

  “C’mon, I have a surprise for you,” Dex says. We arrived in Boston just over an hour ago and went straight to the arena for sound check.

  Typically, no one would take notice of us because they’re so used to seeing us around, but not today. While I follow Dex down the hall, I see the stares, the looks, the curiosity in their eyes as the stagehands go about their jobs, setting up for the performance tonight. But I’m not bothered by it. He leads me onto the stage where a single chair with a guitar on it sits with a spotlight shining down, lighting the area. “What is this?” I ask.

  “I want you to play.” There’s a spark in his eyes that I bet gets women to do whatever he asks of them.

  But with the fear beginning to rise inside of me I can’t think about that. With wide eyes, I ask, “You want me to play for you?”

  “No, I want you to play for you.”

  “On stage? Why?”

  “Because I don’t think you do anymore and you should.”

  I stare at him, my stomach tying up in knots, then I try to defend myself. “I’m busy is all. No biggie.” I shrug to add to the casualness I’m trying to portray.

  “No biggie? You used to love to play,” he says. “I remember watching you in the studio on the last album. You come alive when you play.”

  “I’m busy. I’m tired. I don’t have the same passion for it that I used to.”

  This time he stares at me like he’s trying to work through some complicated equation… or maybe he already has me all figured out. Maybe he can see through the façade I try so hard to put on every day. “I don’t have to prove anything, Dex.” I cross my arms, adamant.

  “Nope, you don’t have anything to prove. Not to me or anyone else, except maybe yourself.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re doing?”

/>   “Don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  A loud thud behind me causes me to look over my shoulder. Johnny sits in a chair near the other, guitar in hand. “You lead. I’ll follow,” he says.

  I can’t hide my panic. “No. I don’t have time for music anymore.”

  “Wow,” Johnny says, looking disappointed. “That’s pretty damn sad, Rochelle.”

  “Sad as it may be, I have different priorities these days.”

  Johnny leans forward resting his elbows on his knees, chin in hand, rubbing it in thought. “Music isn’t something that comes in and out of our lives when it’s convenient. Music defines us, filling the holes that others have left behind.”

  My hands start shaking. “I can’t. I just can’t.” Walking around Dex, I head for the side of the stage and rush down the steps to the exit doors. The sun blinds me when the door flies open. I move to the side, away from the door, and into the shadows. It’s been well over a year since I last played and I remember every second of it. The studio recordings took every ounce of what was left of me. The guys wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I filled in for Cory on the last record. But once we were done, I was done as well. The nightmares started and I haven’t gone near any of the guitars in our house since. That part of my life has been packed away just like the instruments.

  “It’s times like these that I still wish I smoked.”

  I spy Johnny out of the corner of my eye and my shoulders drop in ease from seeing my friend. “You don’t?” I ask.

  He leans against the cinderblock wall and shakes his head. “Holliday would kick my ass. She has this seventh sense that alerts her when I’m screwing up.”

  “She wants you to live a long life.”

  “Yeah, I guess she does,” he says with a smile that’s more reflective of his love for his wife than for me.

  “Holli loves you.”

  “We all have the capacity to love more than we think we’re capable of.”

  “Are you talking about Holli or me?”

  “Might be about you.”

  “Since when did my love life become the band’s pet project?” I lightly kick his foot with mine.

  “When did you stop playing?”

  “The day I left the studio.”

  “Why?”

  Taking a moment, I look down at my shoes, noticing all the scuff marks on them. “Music was something I did with Cory, for him, because of him.”

  “You played before you met him.”

  “I messed around.”

  “No, you’re just forgetting the details.” He pushes off the wall and reaches for the doorknob. “That passion still lives inside you.” He pats his chest over his heart.

  “Then how do I find it again?”

  “It will find you when you’re ready.” The door closes and I’m left there in awe. His lyrics speak so justly of the man behind them and Johnny Outlaw sure knows how to deliver a line.

  I go back inside and find Dex in the dressing room waiting on sound check to begin. “Hey, gotta sec?” I sit down next to him.

  “For you.” He leans back on the couch, his sticks in hand while tapping rhythmically on his leg.

  “I want to thank you for what you did. It was very thoughtful.”

  “We’ve had some good sessions over the years. We should do that again… maybe when I come over in a few weeks.”

  Bouncing my palm lightly on his knee, I say, “Maybe. I might need some more time with that too.”

  His drumsticks pause and he says, “Time is something we take for granted.”

  “I think I know that better than anyone.”

  The beat continues as he starts up again and says, “I lost my dad when I was eight years old.”

  Taken by surprise by the admission, I exhale. I knew his dad had died before I met him, but I didn’t know Dex was so young. My heart thumps in my chest and I place my hand over his hand, stilling his rhythm. His sticks stop and he takes them in one hand, then covers mine with the other.

  A guy opens the door and I pull my hand away reflexively. He says, “Sound check is up. The new snare is on the kit and tested, but they want final approval.”

  I lay back and push Dex up. “Go. I’ll be around later after the show.”

  With that smile that drives me wild, he asks, “You sure you don’t want to join us on stage?”

  “I’m positive. Thanks for the offer though.”

  I watch his ass as he walks out the door, simply because he has a great ass. Then I kick my feet up on the coffee table and drop my head back while closing my eyes. The panic has subsided and my heart becomes all mushy thinking about his sweet gesture. Shaking my head, I smile. Dex is a very unexpected, but a wonderful surprise in my life.

  I head back to the hotel to change before the show. Lara traveled to Boston on an earlier flight than us and is checked into our room already. Having her there helps keep the drunken lines with Dex from blurring. She knows to hold me accountable for my actions.

  After my shower, I lay on the bed as she digs through her suitcase. With a shirt in her hands, she asks, “What do you think about the red, one shoulder number for tonight?”

  “With the dark jeans? Sexy.”

  “Black ankle boots or black shimmer heels?”

  “Ankle boots.”

  “Sex with Dex or kissing only?”

  I stare at the back of her head, surprised by her question, but not shocked. When she turns around, she grins with her hand on her hip. “I can tell you’re into him. You can’t hide the truth from me.”

  “I like him, but it feels self-indulgent.”

  She sits on the edge of the bed and I move over to give her more space. “Since when is happiness self-indulgent?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do, but here’s the reality. You are a single woman, whether you wanted to be or not. It’s been years. You don’t have to forget, but don’t do your heart the injustice of never letting it race again either.”

  “What will people say if Dex and I do end up dating?”

  “What people? Because everyone that is important in your life wants you to be happy. If it’s happy with Mr. Smooth and Sexy, then even better.”

  “You think he’s sexy?”

  “God, Rochelle. You were totally right. He’s hot, hotter than even I remembered and I remember him being pretty damn hot. I think his old hairstyle, that ratty bandana, and sunglasses hid that sexy man for too long.”

  “He smells good too.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really?”

  “Yep,” I say, nodding. “He does.”

  She giggles and that makes me giggle too. It feels good to talk to someone about Dex. It feels good to be unburdened from the guilt that’s weighed me down for so long and just feel giddy again.

  “Did you sleep with him yet?”

  No one knows of our one night years ago, except Tommy, and I’m not telling now. “Lara!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I’m not judging by the way. I’d drop my panties for those captivating brown eyes any day.”

  She gets up and grabs the red top again.

  To move this topic along to something else, I say, “We need to leave in thirty if we’re gonna make it to the show in time.”

  Johnny looks back at Dex sitting on his pedestal as he beats down the end of the song on his drum kit, closing the show. Dex gets up, walks to the edge of the stage and the crowd goes nuts. He launches the drumsticks into the audience and I shake my head. He pays a fine every time he does that, but he still does it because he knows how much the fans love it. He’s been warned a million times not to do it, but I kind of love that he still does. Johnny exits the stage first, then Dex, Kaz, and Derrick trailing.

  “Good show,” I say as they pass. They’re usually moody or high-strung after a performance, so I like to give them space until they’re grounded again. Lara and I walk to the exit, wanting some fresh air because it smells backstage. A lot of sweaty
men moving heavy equipment and lights around will do that.

  With my back against the grey wall, I slide down and balance as Lara lights a cigarette. The doors open again and Kaz and Dex are there. They nod in acknowledgment, but continue talking about some screw up that pissed off Johnny. Dex winks at me before telling Kaz, “Fuck, just hit the riff. It’s not hard. You do it in rehearsal.” Dex lights up, then brings the cigarette to his mouth and inhales. The action is sexier than it should be. I’m not sure if it’s the way he holds it or the way his lips caress it, but either way, I can’t stop staring.

  Through smoke-filled exhales, Kaz says, “No one notices that shit.”

  “Everybody fucking notices,” Dex snaps, aggravated. “Fans know these songs inside and out. How the fuck do you mess up a song you’ve been playing for two years?”

  “Fuck you,” Kaz gripes. “Maybe it wasn’t a mess up but my own fucking spin on it.”

  Dex is quick with his response, “Nobody wants your spin on it, man. They want Cory’s.”

  Kaz takes a drag and then says, “Fuck that music. That music is dead just like him. It’s time for us to make our own.”

  I’m on my feet, moving to the door.

  Kaz grabs my arm. “Oh fuck, Rochelle. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I yank my arm free and go inside, not running though it’s all I want to do. I can’t breakdown in front of them. I can’t show my weakness, or how affected I still get. I go as fast as I can, now running despite all the strength I try to pretend to have. But I’m stopped and pulled into a dark doorway. I gasp, the sudden impact a surprise and I look up into sympathetic, but warm eyes.

  My own eyes start to water, the tears forcing themselves out. Dex pulls me against him. His scent—sweat from the show under a clean shirt—sexy and strong, masculine, but overpowering. His large hand covers the back of my head and he strokes. I breathe him in, finding the comfort I need.

  “Rochelle.”

  We jump apart when Kaz appears. “Rochelle, I’m sorry. I really am. You know Cory was my idol.”

  Slowly stepping back into the light, I clear my throat and steady myself. “Then treat him with the respect he deserves. He wrote that song, the one you were complaining about, when he was nineteen. It came from somewhere deep inside, somewhere slightly dark. You don’t get that. You play notes that you feel forced to play, so you’re pushing back. I do get that. But The Resistance isn’t about you, Kaz. It’s about the music and a band as a whole. You play over an hour of new songs. The encore will always be about the hits and what the fans love. So do us all the courtesy of setting your ego aside and playing for them instead of yourself.”