Light My Fire (Rock Royalty Book 1) (18 page)

Her voice sounded in his head.
I barely learned to ride a bicycle
.

Because Mad Dog couldn't stir himself to be a father. Because her brothers were occupied with their own interests. Ren hated to think of this beautiful rock princess being ignored, being overlooked, doing without. The image of her falling, hurting, being unhappy for one damn minute was suddenly more than he could bear. His ribs did that new trick of theirs, contracting until his heart was squeezed toward his throat. A ridiculous, dangerous drive to protect her surged through him.

"Ren?" Her voice sounded uncertain

He sure the hell didn't know how to control the raw emotion that was likely showing up as a savage expression on his face. He felt wild with...with something.

His gaze lifted toward her.

She caught his look, mid-step. It must have startled her, because she seemed to be trying to move back at the same time as her body was in forward motion. The conflict put her off balance and he saw her wobble, begin to pitch.

She wasn't far from the ground, but she wasn't going to take a spill. Not when Ren rushed forward to capture her in his arms. Her fingers bit into his shoulders, he heard her sharp intake of breath, and he sensed her pounding heart with her breasts just inches from his face. For a long moment they held each other like that, close, too close, then realizing the audience, he let her slide down his body until her feet touched down.

Clearing her throat, she stepped back and sent him a vaguely aimed smile. "Clumsy me," she said. "Thanks."

"Welcome," he muttered, turning away so he could no longer see the pretty flush on her face. Instead, he caught the identical suspicious expressions on those of her brothers'.
Fuck
.

Now he cleared his throat. "We should get going, Cilla. I bet Bing and Brody have things to do."

She seemed just as eager to make a getaway after doling out another quick round of hugs to the twins. Then the other two men walked them back to the Beemer. Brody held her door and bent down to say a few words to her through her open window.

Bing rapped a peremptory knuckle on Ren's. As the glass slid down, the other man got in his face. His voice was quiet, but deadly serious. "I heard what you said about her ex, Ren. But we better not have to protect her from you, too."

Ren kept his mouth closed and merely released the brake to drive away. Because he could only hope the same damn thing.

Chapter 10

Cilla fought her fidgets the entire way back to Laurel Canyon after their beach lunch and then a grocery run. Although Ren had eased some of her new-lover nerves with their "afterplay," the idea of being alone with him in the compound again remained unsettling. Where did they go from here? He had several days (and nights) left in California and were they going to spend them sharing a bed...or no?

Asking that question aloud was not an option. She couldn't risk looking foolish or presumptuous so she was just going to have to live with her discomfort until she could figure it out from his signals—or lack of them.

It was somewhere between four and five o'clock in the afternoon when they turned off Laurel Canyon Boulevard and wound through the streets toward the gated entrance that led to the Lemons' houses. As they neared, Ren swore, and Cilla took her gaze off her lap and looked up.

A cute little green Mini Cooper sporting a black racing stripe was parked on the shoulder of the narrow road. Two slender, dark-haired teenagers, one a boy, one a girl, had their hands curled around the wrought iron rungs and were peering through them.

Ren steered to the side, braked, then jerked the car into Park. "Wait here," he murmured, then vaulted out of his seat, to take brisk strides toward the pair. They spun to confront the clearly annoyed man.

Through the windshield, Cilla tried to read the situation. He appeared to bark out something and the teenagers looked at each other for a beat, then the girl stepped forward. Whatever she said had Ren jolting back.

New concern poured a dose of adrenalin into Cilla's bloodstream and she put her hand on the door. But Ren was already stalking back. The kids moved toward their car.

The air inside the Beemer seemed to crackle as he slipped inside, bringing with him a dark energy. His hands gripped the steering wheel, but he didn't say a word to her, just stared out the windshield. Then, in a flurry of movement, he started the car and swung back into the lane as the gate to the compound slid open.

Their car nosed through and wide-eyed, Cilla took in that the Mini Cooper was following. "Who's that?" she asked, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb.

"My mother's other kids," he rumbled, his expression stony. "They want to talk."

Ren didn't appear any happier about the situation as they walked into Gwen's house, the teens at their heels. Cilla dropped the bags of groceries she carried on the kitchen counter beside the ones that Ren set down. "Um..." she said, looking at his still-tight expression. "If you don't mind unloading the food," she began edging out of the room, "I'll just go to my bedroom."

Ren's hand clamped around her wrist. "You stay," he said. Then he pointed to the kids. "Cilla, that's Nell and Clark Holzman. Nell and Clark, this is Cilla Maddox."

They sketched a couple of waves. Since her right arm was still commandeered by Ren, she gestured to the kitchen table with her left and smiled. "Would you like to sit down? I can get you something to drink."

With low murmurs of assent, Nell and Clark took the few short steps to the chairs. The girl was older than her brother, sixteen or seventeen to his fifteenish. Each looked both shy and excited and they kept darting glances at the brother they'd never met before today.

Once they were seated, Ren let her go so he could fold his arms across his chest. He leaned against the countertop. "First," he said, gazing at them with cool eyes. "Does your mother know you're here?"

"Um..." Nell glanced at Clark.

"That's it," Ren said, straightening. "You need to go back where you came from."

"Our dad knows," Clark said quickly. "He said it was okay."

"And it was Mom who told us about you," Nell added.

One of Ren's brows rose. "Really?"

"After that lady, Guinevere Moon, died," she said. "Mom was crying at the breakfast table one morning—she'd just read the obituary in the paper—and it all came out."

"I guess they knew each other back in the day," Clark put in.

Cilla busied herself putting ice in glasses and pouring out soda. When she placed the drinks in front of each kid they immediately gave their thanks. Studying them, she caught their resemblance to Ren. It was around the eyes and in the angle of the chin and it made her send them another reassuring smile.

On her way back to the grocery bags, she trailed her fingertip along Ren's forearm. "Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head, though his focus remained on the young people. "How'd you find this place?"

"Dad knew that too," Clark offered. "And we thought you might be here because on the Facebook page for your company it said you were in California."

Ren muttered something that might have been, "Damn Raina."

"But we didn't have your cell number so we decided to go for a drive," Nell said.

"Why today?" Ren asked.

Clark set his glass of soda down on the table. "Because of my class project for social studies. I have to do a family tree."

"Let me give you some advice, kid," Ren said, grimacing. "Your mom won't want my name to show up on any of her branches."

The boy nodded. "Dad explained that." His head ducked down, then he looked up again. "'Youthful indiscretion,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers. Then he grinned, looking so much like his big brother that Cilla's heart rolled over like a puppy.

"My mom sure doesn't seem like someone who hung out with rock 'n' rollers," the boy continued. "Now she listens to opera and shit."

Nell knocked her younger brother on the shoulder. "Don't swear. What's he going to think of us?"

Clark looked unrepentant as he rubbed at the spot. "I bet he knows his share of four-letter words." He transferred his gaze to Ren. "Right?"

Instead of answering the question, the man had one of his own. "You care what I think of you?" he asked, in a bemused tone.

Cilla glanced over, understanding his puzzlement. It had to be weird to have these unexpected family members actually reaching out to him. But weird in a good way, she hoped, for his sake.

"Sure we care," Clark answered with a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, we're related."

"We don't have another big brother," Nell said. "It's just you."

Cilla's heart did another roll.

Clark picked up his glass. "And you're, like, famous."

"I'm not the Lemons," Ren said immediately.

"No. Because of your company," Nell said. "We've been reading all about it on Facebook. Those tours you manage. The operatives that work for you."

"Raina," Ren muttered again. "Operatives."

"It sounds cool to us," the girl said. "You should tell us everything about it—I know you organized Heartbeat's latest tour." A flush crawled up her neck. "Not that I'm into boy bands anymore."

Their big brother's lips twitched and his body seemed to relax. His arms dropped to his sides, then he paced to the table and pulled out a chair. "Instead of talking about that, what do you know of your grandfather? Your mother's father?"

The teens looked at each other. "He died," Nell said. "We never met him."

Ren smiled at them. "Let me tell you about the first time I did..."

It was then that Cilla tiptoed away, determining the situation was stable. In the master bathroom, she filled the oversized tub and threw in bath salts. Immediately, the scent settled her down. It was a combination of sweet lavender and lemon and reminded her so strongly of Gwen that she smiled at her reflection in the mirror while she undressed and gathered her hair at the back of her head with a flat clip.

The older woman would love Ren meeting with his mother's other children. She was all about connections, being part of a group, and the nine, frankly, had in ways large and small failed her in that.

As Cilla slipped into the hot water, she sighed, willing the day to float away. But as she rested her head against the porcelain, she decided she didn't want to lose everything about it. There'd been that moment in the car at the beach when Ren kissed her fingers after she'd confessed her discomfort.

Then her brothers. It was great to see them, and she resolved to not allow so much time to pass between visits. Yes, they weren't extremely close, never had been, but thinking of Ren with his two brand new siblings...well, it reminded her she shouldn't squander the ones she had.

And before the lunch and the twins...there was waking up in the bed where she'd spent the night with the man she'd fantasized about since she was old enough to dream about boys. How amazing was that?

Not to mention the amazement of the night before. The bathwater swished, bubbles popping as her legs moved, restless with memories. Truth, she was a little sore between them, but it only served to make her memory sharper and her more aware of how lovely the warmth felt against sensitive tissues. Sensitive tissues that Ren had mastered.

She shivered, noting the way her nipples tightened and were poking above the level of the water. Without thinking, her hand moved, her palm rubbing against the nub of flesh. The gentle graze felt good, and she squeezed her thighs together to savor the sweet spasm that occurred between them at her own touch.

Closing her eyes, she imagined Ren in the tub behind her, her back against his broad chest, her body bracketed by his long, muscled legs.

His hand plucking her nipples.

His fingers sliding into that hot cove where he'd entered her the night before.

The water rippled as she shivered again.

Then, suddenly self-conscious, her eyes popped open and she moved her hands away from erogenous zones. If anyone could see her face, surely her cheeks would be fire-engine red.

But no one could see her.

Who would know if she indulged in a bathtub shared with a fantasy-Ren? Her hips tilted, her bottom sliding against the foundation of the tub. Even that sensation—slick against skin—made excitement shiver through her. She closed her eyes again, let her legs part, and feathered her fingers down her ribs and over her belly, intent on stroking away the last of her tension.

But when she touched herself, her mind flew back to the night before. To Ren's big hand, his sure way of handling her—and to the thought that it might be him in her bed again this evening. Did she want to enjoy this spike of desire alone, or...

Did she want him?

Without answering the question, Cilla finished up in the bath. Wash cloth in hand, she swept her skin clean with efficient movements and then she was out of the water and onto the mat, drying herself with a thick towel. She studied her reflection in the mirror again as she gently abraded her flesh. Her whole body was warm, sensitized, and her eyes looked huge.

With the towel hung to dry, she pulled on a pair of panties and her short terry robe then gave herself a last inspection. She looked flushed. Ready. Wanting.

Yes, wanting Ren.

Exiting the bathroom, she tilted her head, listening to determine what was happening in the rest of the house. It was preternaturally quiet. The teenagers were gone, she decided. And Ren? Perhaps he was kicking back with a beer, enjoying the memory of talking with his previously unknown sibs.

Or maybe enjoying the memory of being with her the night before.

Stomach fluttering, Cilla padded out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. All was dark. Hmm. Had he left the house as well?

But as she made her way into the kitchen, she saw him, a darker shadow in the shadows. He swigged a beer as she crossed the threshold. Something about the vibe in the room made her pause and her belly tighten. "Are you all right?"

"No," he said, his voice low, and there was an aggressive edge to it.

All the tension that she'd tried to release was back, big time. "What's wrong?"