Reverb (Songs and Sonatas Book 7) Read online

  “Yeah. I can handle her.” And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lauren

  I can’t help rolling my eyes at Colt as he bustles around, checking on me in Brendan’s dressing room far more often than necessary.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him for the fifteenth time, making a shooing motion with my hand. “This isn’t my first time at one of Jonathan’s shows, you know. You don’t need to keep checking on me. I’ll text you when I’m ready for security to take me out to my seat, okay?”

  Brendan’s pouting when I close the door on Colt and turn to face him. He’s changed into a tight-fitting tee and put on the leather cuffs he wears on stage. His hair is mussed, and he’s wearing a little guyliner, which gives him this extra sexy edge. His full lower lip pokes out, biteable and distracting as he stands with his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, his pose highlighting his muscles.

  I take a step toward him, biting my own lower lip, almost unconsciously cocking my hip to one side. I’m only aware of it because of the way his eyes heat when I stand like that. “Why are you pouting?”

  His eyes lift to mine, and his pout morphs into a small smile. “Just bummed you’re not going to stay with me until my set.”

  I raise my eyebrows, hand on my hip. “You want me to just sit around and entertain you instead of watching the concert?”

  He lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “You’d really rather be out there with the noise and the crowd and random dudes probably trying to hit on you?”

  I stroke my chin as I pretend to ponder the possibilities.

  Brendan snorts out a laugh, his smile growing more affectionate. “You and your existential beard.”

  “It’s essential to my decision-making process.”

  “And you really have to think hard about this decision, huh? I thought you were upset when I had to leave so soon last week. And now we only have a couple days together, and you’d rather spend it with everyone except me?”

  What started out as a joke seems to have turned more serious than I intended. I drop the act and step in front of him, my hands sliding up his arms and squeezing. Both because yum, but also because I want to make sure he hears me.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice soft. “I was kidding. Of course I want to spend as much time with you as I can. Yes, this was Gabby’s idea because she wants to pry details out of me, but I’m here to see you. This is part of our deal, right? Seeing where this goes? And we have to spend time together to do that, so … here I am.”

  The tension leaks out of his shoulders, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets to wrap his arms around me, holding me against him. He sighs. “Okay. Sometimes it’s hard to get a read on you.”

  I give a light laugh and wrinkle my nose. “Seriously? Because it seems like you can see right through me far more often than I’d like.” Inside, though, my heart squeezes. Brendan’s so certain about everything he does, everything he says. Usually when I tease him, he grins, his eyes twinkle with mischief, and he teases me right back. Seeing him unsure of himself is endearing, but it makes me want to reassure him and help him find his equilibrium.

  His mouth tips up in a half-smile. “Good to know. When we were on our trip, you seemed willing to let me see you. But since then …” He shakes his head. “You’ve been hiding. I want to get back to what we had then.”

  My heart squeezes. I don’t think anyone else has ever laid themselves so bare before me. He’s not hiding. Not holding back. Being upfront and honest about what he wants.

  I shouldn’t be surprised.

  He’s always been that way. I just …

  I don’t know. I didn’t trust it? Partly. And I also blocked it out, discounted it, because I’d decided that we couldn’t work.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, bracing myself, then open them and meet his eyes. “Okay.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Okay?”

  I nod. “Okay. You’re right. I have been hiding. I’ll”—I swallow hard—“I’ll do my best to stop.”

  His low chuckle rumbles through his chest and into mine. “You sound like you’re agreeing to go to prison for life or something.”

  I laugh too, relaxing. “No. It’s not easy for me, though.”

  His hand comes up to cup my cheek. “It’s just me.” His eyes rove my face. “I’m not going to use my knowledge against you.”

  Letting my eyes drop from his, aware that I’m hiding by doing it, I study his chest. “I know.” Mostly. Too many other people have, though. Or prejudged me without even getting to know me. Or judged me for the ways people have made me out to be. Flirt. Slut. Easy. Because I like boys and haven’t been ashamed of it. Most of the time. Not until what happened last summer, when I realized that it wasn’t just high school jealousy. And people really see me that way.

  With Brendan I don’t have to be afraid, though. He’s proven that already. Good lord, our relationship started with me masturbating in front of him. If I could do that when I barely knew him, I should be able to open up now that I know him better. Now that I know we both want our relationship to work. Another deep breath, and I open my eyes. His are warm, and another smile tips up his lips as he looks into me yet again.

  “Hi,” he says.

  I smile back. “Hi.”

  And then his lips meet mine, tender at first, parting to slide his tongue across the seam of my mouth. I open for him, welcoming him inside with my tongue.

  His arm tightens behind my back, pinning my body to his, and my fingers curl into the muscles of his arms, trying to get as close as possible.

  BANG!

  The door slamming against the wall scares me so much, I almost jump out of my skin, Brendan’s arm behind me the only thing keeping me on my feet. I clutch my chest, breathing hard.

  Brendan’s face is murderous. “What the fuck, Colt?”

  Colt stands in the open doorway, arms crossed, a disgusted look on his face. “I knew this would happen.” He points a finger at us. “This is why I’ve been trying to get Lauren out to her seat sooner than later.”

  Calmly, deliberately, Brendan shifts so he’s closer to the door and places his hand on Colt’s shoulder. Without a word, Brendan moves Colt into the hallway.

  “Hey!” Colt splutters. “What do you think—”

  The door closing cuts off his question, and Brendan turns the lock. Colt bangs on the door. “If you’re late for our set because she’s in there with you …”

  The beginning of a threat hangs in the air. Brendan’s looking at me and stifling a laugh. “What, Colt? What are you gonna do? Ban me from performing? Oh nooo, the horror!”

  There’s silence from the other side of the door, and I’m not sure if Colt’s left or if he’s just fuming wordlessly.

  Finally, he shouts, “I’m telling Jonathan!”

  Brendan can’t stifle his laughter anymore. Big guffaws roll out of him, and now he’s clutching me to him so he can stay upright instead of keeping me on my feet. He brings his other hand to his face, scrubbing at his eyes.

  His chest heaves as he sucks in deep breaths, making little “whooo” sounds on the exhale as he tries to calm himself down. I’m sniggering myself by this time, both from their exchange and from Brendan’s hilarity.

  He shakes his head. “Man, it’s easy to get him all riled up. He was always the tattletale when we were kids too. Good to know some things never change.” His smile fades, and he tips his head down to brush a kiss across my lips. “You better go watch the show, though, or Colt will be interrupting us every five minutes until our set. And if he can’t focus, he won’t perform well, and we’ll all have to listen to him whine about it for weeks.”

  I let out a soft laugh and press myself against his chest, wrapping my arms around his back. He tightens his arms around me as well, resting his cheek on my hair. We stand like that for a long moment, and I close my eyes, wanting to sink into it, into this—this comfort, this intimacy—and live here for a while.

  B
ut the sound of a fist hammering on the door breaks us apart, and Colt’s voice can be heard muttering, “I swear to god, if you two are having sex—”

  Before he can finish, Brendan yanks the door open. “You’ll what?”

  Colt takes a half step backward before catching himself and standing up to his brother, eyes narrowed. “I’ll—”

  “Tell Jonathan?” Brendan interrupts again.

  Colt lifts his chin. “Probably.”

  Brendan snorts. “I’m not sure he’d object as long as I’m on stage on time. Pretty sure he’s done the same thing about a million times.”

  Stepping to Brendan’s side, I tug him away from the door and his red-faced younger brother. “Alright, guys. This isn’t some kind of weird pissing contest.” I press up on my toes and wrap my hand behind Brendan’s neck to bring his mouth to mine. Then I turn a smile on Colt. “I’m ready to go watch the show now. That alright with you?”

  He casts one more baleful glare at his brother before offering me his arm. “Sounds great. Right this way.”

  I glance over my shoulder to see Brendan stifling a laugh as he closes the door to the dressing room, but his eyes are full of promise for later. A delightful shiver runs up my spine.

  I can’t wait.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brendan

  Much as I hate watching Lauren walk away with my brother, the reality is that it’s for the best. I give Colt grief for needing focused prep time before performances, but I need it too.

  The problem is, I care more about spending time with Lauren than I do about putting on a good show. These performances are something I do for my brother. Yeah, I get paid for it, because Jonathan’s not a dick and he doesn’t expect people to work for free, but he’s the only person I’d agree to do this for, regardless of the money involved.

  This—concerts, performances, throngs of screaming fans—this is not my thing.

  The screaming fans are a high for sure. But I’ve never liked performing much. Not like my brothers. Not like my mom. I had bad stage fright when I was a kid. Being behind the drum set helps, since I’m not front and center. There’s a barrier of some sort between me and the audience. But even with that, it still rears its ugly head from time to time. My mom gave me enough coaching when Brash was on the road to stardom, both with her and with others, that I have the tools to deal with it.

  Planting my ass on the couch, I rest my elbows on my knees and my forehead on my fingertips, breathing deeply, finding my center. And like every time over the last several months, Lauren is there at the center, that sassy half-smile on her lips. Just for me.

  The difference now is that I don’t try to force that image aside like I have every other time.

  Nope. I don’t have to now.

  Because she’s here. For me. With me. I’m allowed to have her as my touchstone.

  From Lauren, I move to the setlist, unconsciously tapping my fingers in time with the beat as I run through each song in my head.

  And when Colt comes for me again, I stand with a deep breath, shake off the lingering tension, grab my sticks, and walk out the door. Striding onto the stage in the blinding lights, the sound of the screaming mob making its way past my noise-cancelling in-ear monitors, I’m ready. I climb up behind the drum set on the elevated platform, wait for the nods from Colt and Jonathan, count off the beat on my sticks, and we’re in. We’re playing. The fans are screaming and singing along. But I’m not playing for any of them anymore.

  I’m only playing for Lauren.

  The minute our set is over, I’m scanning backstage, looking for Lauren. Colt can’t get his panties in a twist anymore. I’m done for the night. He might like it when I make time for fans and press duties afterward, but that’s not part of my contract. I only do it when I feel like it. And tonight? I definitely don’t feel like it.

  “Where is she, Colt?”

  He turns, glancing at me, eyebrows raised. “Where’s who?”

  I could punch him right now. And not even feel guilty later.

  Grinding my teeth, I land my hand on his shoulder. Heavily. Hard enough to make him wince a little. Colt spends as much time in the gym as Jonathan and I, but not with the weights. He’s got the lanky, skinny thing going on. Which I guess some girls like, since he doesn’t seem to have any trouble with the ladies. Well, except the one he denies wanting because she won’t give him the time of day … But I don’t give a shit about his woman problems right now.

  The only woman I’m interested in is nowhere in sight. And that’s a big problem for me.

  “Colt.” I infuse my voice with all the menace I can muster. “If you don’t either tell me where Lauren is so I can get her, or have someone bring her to me in the next thirty seconds, I’ll …”

  He crosses his arms. “You’ll what? Tell Jonathan?”

  Shaking my head, I step closer, looming over him. “You know that’s not my style. But I will go out there”—I lift one arm and point toward the door that leads out to the audience—“and I will disrupt the show looking for her.” I cock one eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”

  His brows come down over his gray eyes, and his nostrils flare in annoyance. “You don’t always have to bully me to get your way, you know. You could just ask.”

  I grit my teeth and force myself to take a deep breath to keep from raising my voice. “Pretty sure I did, dude.”

  “Fine.” He steps back, shrugging off my hand and crossing his arms. “She should be back in your dressing room. Keep in mind that lots of people have probably had sex on that couch. Just sayin’.” With that parting shot, he turns and walks off, back to his usual job of keeping everything on track.

  I watch him wind his way through the backstage clutter, stopping to exchange a quiet word with one of the roadies before disappearing from sight.

  He makes a good point about the couch, actually. Seems like against the wall might be the best option.

  I stride into my dressing room, almost yanking the door off the hinges, adrenaline and lust thrumming through my veins.

  I couldn’t see Lauren from the stage—not with the stage lights and no idea what section she was sitting in—but the memory of her dancing to my beats on the platform in that club in New York played in my head the whole time. In that dress that hugged her curves and those killer boots. I wish I could’ve seen her in the crowd tonight. And I’m dying to get my hands on her now. Especially since we shouldn’t have any interruptions for a while.

  But my hopes are instantly dashed when I find the tiny room empty. I turn in circles, my hands clenching at my sides, at a loss for what to do.

  Is this some kind of stupid prank my little brother thought would be funny?

  I replay our conversation. He didn’t have any of his usual tells. He seemed genuinely irritated, no hidden spark of glee at the prospect of messing with me.

  So where’s Lauren?

  Moving to the doorway, I look into the gloom of the hallway. The lights are at half since it’s intermission. During the show, only narrow light strips illuminate the hallway. Just enough so no one trips.

  A laugh rings out, and my head jerks to the right where Lauren is coming around the corner, her hand on the arm of the black-shirted security guard as she laughs at something he says. He’s smiling down at her, entranced.

  My molars grind so hard they almost crack.

  She has this effect on men. Me. The security guard. Liam at the club in New York City. Random dudes everywhere. I love it and hate it. Love feeling it myself. Hate watching others fall under her spell. I noticed it the first time we met. Watched her cast the spell on others. I called her a maneater at my brother’s wedding. She didn’t like that term. But if the shoe fits …

  We haven’t spent a lot of time in public since we got together, so I haven’t had to deal with the jealousy that rears up when this happens. The majority of our relationship has been spent in a car, after all.

  Then she turns her face to me, and her eyes light up. Without s
paring the security guy a glance, she disengages from him and takes a little skipping start to get to me faster. Her grin stretches across her face, her hips swaying as she almost jogs to close the distance between us.

  My jaw relaxes, my hands opening, reaching for her as she approaches. She lifts her arms, wrapping one hand behind my neck, the other hooking around my shoulder, and she pulls my mouth to hers.

  I meet her kiss with barely restrained ferocity. My fingers dig into her hips, bringing our bodies together. Her fingernails curl into my scalp, the other hand biting through the cotton of my T-shirt.

  This. I’ve been waiting for this, for her, since she got here.

  Since she got on the plane to come here.

  Since she said she’d come.

  Forever.

  A throat clearing causes me to open my eyes, not thrilled about being called back to the present. But we’re still in the hallway, and the security guy’s eyes are darting from my face to her ass, where my hand has a firm grip, and up to her arms twined around me.

  I lift my chin at him and back up into my dressing room without a word, never relinquishing my grip on Lauren’s ass. She sticks close to me without question, pressing her face into my chest to muffle her giggle until after the door swings closed behind her. I finally release her for one second so I can flip the lock. Colt shouldn’t come banging the door open, since our set is over and my obligations are fulfilled, but I wouldn’t put it past him to do it anyway, just to be a little shit.

  Once my hand is back on her ass, Lauren lifts her face from my chest, her giggle breaking free. I smile down at her, wearing the same expression as that poor security asshole I’m sure. Caught under her spell.

  The difference is, she wants me back. And if there were any doubt in my mind that I was the only one, that maybe she was actually trying to flirt with him and not just being herself, it would’ve been driven out by the way she practically skipped down the hall to get to me when she saw me.