Page 8 of Behind the Lyrics
I tromped into the small living room of my second-story apartment and locked the door behind me, letting out a long sigh.
Marky, my five-year-old orange tabby cat, wound his body around my legs and meowed.
“Okay, okay.” Bending to him, I stroked his sleek form. He purred and gave another forlorn cry. “I’ll get your stinky wet kitty food.”
At the mention ofkitty food, he darted into the kitchen, stood over his bowl, and cried once more.
At least I can always count on my little buddy to keep me grounded.After the disastrous interview with Farrow, I needed this healthy dose of reality. Why had I been entertaining the idea he was attractive?Uh, because he is, even with that overinflated ego.Yeah, but then he’d practically accused me of being an ice queen, as if he’d expected me to burst into flames the moment he turned his attention to me.
“No thanks, creep. I’ve dealt with men like you before.” Pulling the tab, I peeled the lid from Marky’s coveted dinner, and his meows reached an ear-splitting crescendo. I dumped the disgusting food into his bowl, and he shoved his face into the meal, his purr loud enough to rumble through the tiny kitchen.
Tossing the empty can into the trash, I topped off his water and headed to the cozy bathroom. Turning the faucet, I poured lavender bubble-bath liquid into the steaming tub.
There’s nothing better than a hot bubble bath to ease away the stress of a shitty day.
After stripping, I slid into the silky water and let out a small moan of pleasure. Several minutes ticked by as I slowly relaxed, the tension easing from my muscles. Hot baths had always been my heaven, my refuge, my security for when I felt anxious or overwhelmed.
I reached for the cell phone sitting at the end.Need some music.Pulling up several playlists, I couldn’t decide on what I wanted to hear. So, I searched the recommended playlists. One of the suggested offerings was Angry Gods’ last album.
My neck muscles tightened.Is this my karma, to be reminded of that jackass?I’d heard the album before, and it was good—great, even—but I’d never connected to the music on a personal level. It was the last hurrah Viktor and his band had recorded before their bass player died in a freak accident. After that, the band never really got over the death, and they went their separate ways. It seemed to have affected Viktor the most, though, because his drug use and multitude of other arrests had spiked out of control.
What the hell. I might as well give it a go.The first song opened with a folksy melody using acoustic guitars and a simple, yet effective, drumbeat. Twenty seconds into the song, and Viktor’s unique vocals began their soft and seductive croon.
Remembering how his lips brushed against my ear, and imagining that voice breathing its warmth next to my skin, I let my toes curl in pleasure. I closed my eyelids and pictured his gentle stare caressing my body again. The sunshine played throughout his honeyed hair and gave him a godlike aura in the light.
For a few minutes, I lost myself in his song, forgetting how arrogant and annoying he’d been earlier today. The man could sing, I had to give him that, and I understood why so many women threw themselves at his feet. If it hadn’t been for his sour, arrogant attitude,Imight’ve found myself falling for him.
But of course, I was too smart for that. I’d never go for someone as damaged as him—not again. No way. No how.
Chapter 10
Viktor Farrow
The owners of the recording studio spared no expense with my entertainment. Several barely clothed women pranced around the oasis pool, flicking their hair and sashaying their hips as they walked past, their glances telling me I could do anything to them, and they’d enjoy it.
I lounged in a chair, content to watch them under the cover of the starry sky and old-fashioned tiki torches scattered around the water. Hidden speakers, disguised to look like natural rock scattered around the area, played an eclectic mix of hard rock, metal, and old-school grunge. To my right sat a platter of fine meats and cheeses, along with crackers, fruits, finger sandwiches, and chocolates.
A server stopped at my side with a tray of bubbling champagne in flute glasses. “Would you care for one, sir?” He bowed lower, making it easy for me to snatch one if the urge hit.
I hesitated.Fuck yeah, I want one.That old familiar desire to down the alcohol rose inside me, whispering I could have one, just one. One wouldn’t hurt me, would it? My fingers reached outward, but I stopped. One always led to two, and two to five, and then I’d find myself right back where I’d been two years ago.
Instead of gripping the stem of a glass, I waved him away. “Get the fuck out of here.” I slipped a finger into my pocket and stroked the most important thing on me. No, not my dick. Okay, thesecondmost important thing on me.
The server’s face blanched, and he straightened. Back stiff, he marched away, offering his poison to other members of the recording team who happily downed the liquid.
Several of my bandmates had tried to talk to me earlier, but I ignored them, lost in my thoughts. No, not just lost in my thoughts, consumed with them—particularly that little nymph named Angela. The gall of her rejecting me. It still irked my blood. To be turned down, so coldly and completely, had done something to my pride.
One of the scantily clad girls, a blonde with big green eyes, licked her lips and adjusted her top with a slow, measured grace, her stare sultry as she winked.
Yeah, I still got it.I patted the top of my thigh. “Come here, doll.”
A bold smile stretched her lips. She strolled to me and sat on my legs, twining her hands around my neck and grinding her ass against my lap.
She was lovely and smelled of chlorine and summer. Her hair, still damp from an earlier swim in the pool, cascaded down her back, and I twisted my hands in the strands.I wonder what Angela’s hair would feel like wrapped around my fists?
My dick stirred at this image in my head, of that little angel straddling my hips, her long hair sliding across my naked chest.
For fuck’s sake, man, what in the holy hell is wrong with you?
