Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2) (13 page)

When she’s done, the studio stays completely silent. They feel it, too. It was only a verse, but it was so perfect it felt sacred, and they’re as scared to ruin it as I am.

“Was that better, Rhys?” she asks, voice husky, eyes wide, skin flushed like we’ve been touching each other in front of everyone for the last few minutes. And maybe we have.

How she can think anyone would see us in the same room and not know we’re together is beyond me. The heat between us, even separated by several yards, could melt the plexiglass wall of the studio.

“Much better.” I clear my throat and turn to Luke. “You wanna get in there for the chorus? If you guys can give me a couple of good passes, we’ll just stack the vocals to fill that sound out some.”

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly. They knock out the chorus and the bridge. We lay some background vocals they do themselves. Kai guzzles a steady stream of Amber’s magical tea, and her voice, though tired, holds for the night.

It’s two o’clock in the morning when we’re done. So much of this industry happens in studios while everyone else sleeps. I’m exhausted, but color still swirls in my mind. I keep hearing new things that came to me while Kai sang, notes that will enrich the song. Everyone else packs up, but I’ll stay and hammer out the parts I want to add.

The energy from Kai’s verse still churns inside of me. Were it up to me, I know exactly where this energy would go. I’d pour it into my sweet girl. In our bed. Between our sheets. But she wants slow so that we get this right. And I want this right even more than I want what’s between those beautiful legs of hers. So for now, my piano will be my release, as it has been so often over the last two months.

I’m about to get started in the small piano room adjoining Cherry, when I look up to see Kai standing at the entrance. I wasn’t even sure she would say goodbye because I have no idea how “not public” she wants us. I’ll follow her lead on it because, left to me, she’d be wearing a
Property of Rhyson Gray
sign. I’d write it in the sky if she’d let me.

I gesture for her to come in, and she walks over to stand right in front of me.

“You got a ride home?” I lean against the piano and push the hair over her shoulder, my hand dropping to palm her waist. She’ll have to pull away if she’s concerned about someone seeing us because I can’t
not
touch her.

“Yeah.” She looks up at me, the same restrained energy in her eyes that churns inside of me. “I’ve got San’s truck.”

Gus and Monty come through to wave a final goodnight, their speculative eyes bouncing between Kai and me. After what they’ve probably read about us being apart, they must be as confused as I am half the time. With them leaving and Amber long gone, it’s just Kai and me in the studio. When she leaves it’ll be just me like it’s been so many nights since she left.

“I should go,” she whispers, stepping back.

“You were amazing.” I tighten my hand at her waist, hoping I can keep her for a few more minutes.

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I mean that. Thank you for bringing something so much better out of me than I thought I had.”

She opens her mouth like there’s more she would say, but she bites her lip and drops her gaze to the floor. I lift her chin with one finger until I have her eyes again.

“What is it, Pep?”

A breath stutters over her lips and emotion deepens the rich brown of her eyes to sable.

“Did you feel it?” The heat in her eyes mesmerizes me. “When I sang for you? Did you feel it?”

I don’t bother answering her question. I just haul her into me, hands cupping her ass and tongue in her mouth before she can waste time with more words. Who needs words when we have this? This living, panting thing that ignites every second we’re together. Lust and love rub against each other vigorously like two sticks making sparks fly, the first sign of fire. I feather kisses down her soft cheeks until I reach her lips again. She opens for me, warm and eager. My hands glide past her waist and up her body until I cup either side of her face, holding her still so I can plunder that sweetness over and over until I’m satisfied. Only there’s no satisfaction, just more hunger. It claws out of my belly and drags her closer.

“Rhyson, oh God,” she husks against my lips. “I-I . . . need . . .”

Her arms wrap around my neck, pressing our bodies so close not even a breath would dare intrude. But her words intrude. What she said yesterday in the barn about going slow and getting it right, it intrudes as much as I don’t want it to.

I pull back, hands at her hips, to look down at her.

“Pep, you know where this goes.” I shake my head. “If we don’t stop, I
won’t
stop. You know that, right?”

The hunger in her eyes answers me.

“Yeah.” She blinks rapidly, her hand tightening behind my neck, fingers plowing into my hair.

“You know I want this.” I feel the window closing, that window where I give her a choice in this, where I let her go home. “But you said slow, baby. I just . . . I don’t want you to regret this, or see it as a setback for us. It wouldn’t be to me.”

“I just . . .” Her eyes pick up where her words leave off, telling me that I’m not the only one lonely or needy tonight after so long apart. “What we felt tonight in the studio, I need that.”

“What are you saying?” I know what she’s saying, but she’s gonna have to
say
it. And once she does, that’s it. The timetable, the slow pace—all of it goes poof, and good riddance.

“I’m saying you can have me, we can have each other tonight.” She seals her fate by tipping up on her toes to lay a soft kiss on my lips.

That may be the last soft thing between us for a while because what burns in me isn’t soft or slow or gentle. I’m done questioning this. I’m not asking for permission or waiting another minute. Her singing my lyrics tonight, holding my words so close they became a part of her—I’m still hard from that. There’s only one way to satisfy this hunger.

I spin her around and bend her over the side of the piano, with frantic hands peeling her leggings and panties down over her hips. I can’t even wait for her to get them off, leaving them bundled around her ankles. I fumble with my zipper, want making my hands tremble.

“Hurry, Rhys.” Her voice shakes with need. “Please hurry.”

I drop my pants, align our bodies and plunge into her tightness as deeply as her body will take me. I slide my hand up her back, pushing her neck, her cheek into the piano. I’m as gentle as I can be while I grind into the curve of her ass.

“You don’t ever keep this from me again.” I thrust into her roughly, watching the blush wash over the downy skin of her neck and cheeks. “I can’t . . . I can’t be without you, Kai.”

“I know.” Her voice shakes.

I can’t speak, the force of the pleasure too intense. I want to savor being with her, inside of her again, but it’s been too long. I thought our first time together again would be long, leisurely love in my bed, or by my pool, naked with the cameras off. Instead we steal this rough fuck in the back of my studio. One hand grips her hip and the other presses into the fragile line of her spine. Dammit, I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m pounding into her, my hips out of control, shaking the piano, the superb acoustics of the studio echoing back my grunts and groans. But she takes it, wants more.

“Deeper, Rhys,” she pants, eyes closed, bottom lip captive between her teeth. “Baby, don’t hold back. I can take it.”

Then I can give it. I push impossibly deeper, harder until she’s up on her tiptoes. My hand shoves the knotted t-shirt up her back. She reaches behind her, hurriedly unhooking the bra, and my hand slips under her to squeeze one plump nipple.

She groans, slamming one palm to the piano, pulling it into a fist and banging until she’s matching the rhythm of my thrusts, mixing with our erratic breaths and the guttural sounds of our pleasure, an erotic symphony with just our bodies and our love as instruments.

“Damn, this is good, Pep.” I bend my knees, sinking into her more, painting her back with the sweat falling from my face and shoulders.

“Yes, don’t stop. I’m almost . . .” The words strangle in her throat.

“Touch yourself, baby.”

Her hand disappears between her legs, and the sight of her touching herself, the sound of her release wrenched from her lips, the clench of her body around me when she comes, sets me off so hard my body jerks rough and rapid until I’m coming, jetting into her body. And for the first time, it’s so intense it’s the same as my synesthesia, colors overtaking my mind, red wrapping around green, pink fusing with yellow, purple interspersing with blue. Vibrant hues coalescing into an aurora borealis that takes my breath, revealing to me the color of love.

SO MUCH FOR SLOW.

The pull between Rhyson and me at the studio was locomotive, and we rode it all night. My lofty intentions of taking things slow, of not letting sex cloud our issues, crashed and burned after what we shared while I was singing in the booth. I’ve never felt anything like that before. The words to his song burned my tongue, caressed my lips and slid down my throat, searching out my deepest places. I thought I could just say goodnight, but as soon as I walked into that piano room, the pull was too strong. Inescapable. I knew we wouldn’t be going our separate ways.

And now it’s morning. For the first time in two months, I’m waking up with Rhyson warm and solid behind me. He doesn’t feel like a mistake. Not with his arm a heavy, welcome claim draped over my stomach. Not with the comfort of each deeply drawn breath in his sleep rustling my hair.

I turn over slowly so I won’t wake him. On the road, Malcolm made sure I experienced so many things I never thought I would. Expensive suites. Champagne. Gorgeous clothes I’d never buy for myself. But this is the luxury no tour or check could ever provide. The luxury of waking up with Rhyson. Him on the pillow beside me, his broad chest, lean naked body inked with the music he loves. The long lashes softening his rugged, handsome profile. The dark hair, dusted with autumn, wild, spilling over his closed eyes. Waking up with Rhyson is absolutely decadent.

I don’t know how long I study him before he sleepily blinks back at me. A smile tugs the edges of his lips, his hands wandering under the sheets to pull me flush against him, my breasts pressed into his bare chest.

“G’morning,” he says, voice still husky with sleep. “It’s kind of creepy to wake up with you staring at me like that.”

He drops a kiss on my forehead and pushes the hair out of my eyes.

“I could get used to it, though.”

I fold my arms against his chest between us, pressing my lips to his throat where his pulse drums beneath the warm, tanned skin.

“Sorry to be a creeper.” My laugh is scratchy in my throat. My voice was already a little ragged. Last night’s session didn’t help. “I guess I missed waking up with you.”

I flick a glance up at him, taking in the line of his scruffy jaw.

“You’re beautiful, Rhys.”

Something melts in his eyes before they start smiling at me.

“I think that’s the pot calling the kettle beautiful.”

The smile teasing his lips disappears.

“Are you . . .” Rhyson lets the words hang for a second, clears his throat and starts again. “I know you wanted to go slow with this and make sure we get things fixed. I don’t want you to think we can’t still do that. Work on things, I mean. Do you, well, regret last night?”

I scoot back just enough so he can see me and I can see him clearly, eyes to eyes.

“Not regret, no. It was too perfect to regret.” I place two fingers over the smile that instantly sprouts on his face. “
But
my concerns still stand. We can’t just jump back in like nothing happened. You really hurt me. We hurt each other.”

“I know.” His hand drifts down my back under the sheet, fingers spreading over the curve of my butt. “If I could go back and do it differently, I would.”

I wiggle away a few inches, dislodging his hand. There’s no way I’ll get through this conversation with his hand on my ass.

“You’ll get plenty of chances, Rhys.” I firm the line of my lips. “Over and over again we’ll disagree about my career, about the steps I should take and what I should do. You’ll have a choice every time to manipulate and control, or to trust me.”