Rockstar Secrets (Forbidden Chords Book 1) Read online

“I knew your skills would fit our needs. How are you two getting along?” They hadn’t talked at length since the first week. It was hard finding time between the shows, media, and getting to know Marques.

  “It feels like a male version of you," Brione said.

  “What?” Eliana’s voice rose.

  She laughed. “It sounds weird. I know. But being with Marques feels like our friendship. Natural. Effortless.”

  “I hear fairies in your voice.” Her voice held an edge of concern.

  They teased each other about fairies, magical dust, and fairy godmothers. The sound of her tapping on a hard surface filled the space between them. How could she not have pixy dust sprinkled all over her life? This moment was unreal. How often did a man roll up in a luxury bus offering a six-figure check and literally…literally changing her life?

  Eliana was her very own personal Tinker Bell. She saw her distress and sprinkled dust and turned her nightmare into a fairytale.

  “Fairytales aren’t real though. Right?” Brione’s eyes stung with the truth of her real life.

  “Sweetie…” she let out a long sigh, “They don’t live in the same world as you and I. Hell, they may own the damn fairy dust factory.”

  Brione looked at the phone and fell back on the bed laughing, covering her mouth to keep from disturbing Marques. Her stomach ached, but the thought of RSE owning a factory of glittery particles with the ability to transform and transfix reality made her feel hopeful and childlike. “You’re a nut.”

  “Call it what you want. Bruce flew the entire team to Bora Bora and planned a million dollar event to win over Sandra. Damian bought a multi-million complex and raised almost ten million dollars for Imani.”

  “That sounds fairytaleish.”

  “I’m pretty sure it gets no better than that.”

  Except for Marques. He opened doors and asked how she was. He listened. No one ever listened as intently as he did, maybe except Eliana. Brione never had to wonder or question if she held his interest or attention even in a sea of women. She didn’t need clear blue waters or sandy beaches; she’d settle for peace.

  “I wonder what color it is.” She laid on her back staring at the ceiling.

  “Purple, teal, and silver.”

  “Of course,” she giggled at Eliana’s unwavering response. “Do you think it works on boogeymen?”

  “It works especially well with them. But only those exposed, Peanut.”

  The words covered her in soberness. She’d have to tell her prince about her worst mistake and her greatest joy. Her dark past and the only light that made her future worth pursuing. How could hope and dread intertwine in the depths of her heart? Rooted in the depths of her nightmares. Could love banish the secrets in her life? Could it slay her dragons?

  “What if…” Tears slid down her face finding refuge in her hair.

  “He can love you through it.”

  “No, what if…” she sniffled.

  “He commands an army of lawyers to get your baby back. He banishes the villain. He sprinkles pixy dust, and you live happily ever after.”

  “For someone like me…”

  “Why have a factory full of purple, teal, and silver pixy dust and not use it for a loving heart trapped under an awful spell against a villain who doesn’t fight fair?”

  “I’m tired of fighting.” She rolled over and muffled her pain into the mattress as the scent of Marques filled her nose. She hugged his pillow tight. It chipped away from her soul.

  “It’s time we pixy dust his ass then.”

  Brione howled. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  “I think a time or two, but I’ll never tire of hearing how great I am.”

  “How did I find myself surrounded by such humble people?” Brione sat up and wiped away the traces of her grief. “Honey, I love you and…thank you.” Her voice cracked.

  Brione disconnected the line as she felt his presence before looking up and finding his concerned eyes reaching out to her.

  But only those exposed. Eliana’s words tumbled around in her head while his gaze locked her in a trance.

  “Princess, come here.” His stare was bold and assessed her frankly sparking a tingling in the pit of her stomach. He extended a steady hand in her direction, not moving.

  Hands that covered her body with passionate familiarity. Hands that gripped her with a knowing as old as mankind. Hands that seemed to possess the innate ability to transfix her reality from muddled chaos to a focused need for him to love her.

  Taking his hand meant moving forward. Moving beyond her confusion. Moving beyond her awful past. She told Eliana she was tired of fighting, and she was. And she would not stand and accept his hand as a damsel in distress, needing him to make it all better. He might own the pixy dust factory, but she wanted to save herself.

  The moment passed as his eyes searched hers. Miami would change it all. She’d have the deposit for her attorney and then she’d tell Marques everything. For now, she brushed away her tears once more, and she followed her heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Marques spent hours working on his first instrumental. He felt a disturbing energy around him making it difficult to focus. The hum of the melody in his head was muted—lacking its vibrancy. A physical change since meeting her.

  He walked back to the room and found her on the bed staring into space with silent tears trailing down her face. He saw her this way several times. The first time it alarmed him. Now…she sat in the middle of the bed playing with the hem of her shirt. He knew something was below the surface fighting to come out. He knew the feeling. He experienced it when walking away from that near DUI.

  He wanted to know every secret, every dream, every desire but only once she was ready.

  Brione stood and took several steps in his direction as his eyes roved and lazily appraised her curvy body. She was in one of his t-shirts with a pair of his boxers. The bus rode around as the band members went their separate ways leaving the two of them alone.

  No bodyguards. No DJ. No band. Just them.

  Could her heart read his, the way he could understand hers? Her ache was an unwanted third wheel in the room.

  Let me love you.

  She stopped in front of him. He gripped her face in his hands. She looked up, and his heart thumped, and the hum of their rhythm consumed him.

  Let me love you.

  He kissed her forehead. Her button nose. He tasted her salty tears before pressing his lips against hers. With every kiss vowed to erase the ache until she was satiated and thoroughly loved. It was his commitment to her.

  His mouth covered hers and the familiar push of adrenaline ignited only matched by the stage. He kissed her slowly, with an intensity that was dreamlike and erotic, determined to give her the show of her life. He angled her head to deepen the kiss, and she slipped her sweet tongue into his mouth.

  “Take off your clothes,” he commanded.

  Her soft fingers feathered up the side of his neck, and he couldn’t contain a groan as she pressed her body against his. He lifted her off the floor and her bare legs wrapped around his waist. He closed the door behind them, and in a few steps, he had her back against the mattress.

  He covered her trembling body with his own. Fire raced from his body to hers. He pulled away, and the heat in her eyes struck a vibrant chord in him. A forbidden chord.

  “I wanted to wait until we got to the resort.” He yanked his shirt off. “But you won’t let me.”

  Marques' teeth nibbled on her rock hard peaks through the thin cotton shirt. The gentle pain made Brione cradle the back of his head.

  “Not until I see that sexy ass of yours bare.” He smiled down, all male, one thousand percent cocky. She reached up, and he pulled back, standing at the edge of the bed his intense gaze on hers. “Or you won’t get my gift.”

  “What gift?” She sat up.

  He looked her over seductively and licked his lips. He kissed her again in a drunken slowness and pulled a
way again.

  “You’re a tease.”

  His large hand gripped the base of her neck and a lazy finger traveled between the valley of her breasts, down her stomach, and rested on the thin lace separating his expert finger from her throbbing core. His face now inches from hers.

  His screaming fans loved his voice, but it was his wicked mouth that was her undoing. She kissed his lean jaw. Once. Twice. Inching closer to his full mouth while wiggling against his hand, eager for him to stop holding out and do something. She brushed her hand across his hard flesh pressing against his shorts. It was time to free him; she reached for his elastic waistband.

  “I mean it, princess.” His breath whispered over her lips. Then he stepped out of reach.

  Her body ached for his touch.

  “Not until you give me what I want.” He read her thoughts and growled his command. He’d been a caring and slow lover. But the look in his eyes held an intensity she’d seen before, yet couldn’t place.

  The stare down continued as her mind raced with thoughts and her body raced with need. Working for Marques meant she tried to learn him by heart. To anticipate his needs, his desires. Becoming his lover only intensified her pursuit and her connection with him. She discovered his mind in and out of the bedroom.

  Then it hit her, on stage. His eyes were intent, his broad shoulders squared, his bare chest exposed. His breathing slow, deliberate. It was a definite turn-on. She studied his lean caramel face and found a raging storm of need in his dark brown eyes directed at her.

  She had waved the white flag earlier, and tonight she planned to bask in his loving. She boldly met his eyes as she sat forward and pulled her shirt off.

  He hissed.

  She watched with smug delight as his muscles flexed, clenching his mouth tighter as if holding his emotions in check. She definitely had his undivided attention. She missed the soft scent of him already, knowing she’d have the real deal inside her shortly made her longing manageable. She settled back into the mattress in her lace panties using her elbows for support. She stared at his growing bulge, pleased that it was her doing, and figured she’d stir the pot. How turned on could she get him? And what would he do?

  His eyes caressed her, and her body ached for him to fulfill the promise burning in his gaze. She hummed a few of his lyrics beneath her breath. Her determination was like a steady tower inside her. He’d get want he wanted when she got what she wanted.

  The sound of her whispers traveled to Marques’ ears, cutting through the music in the room. What he heard made his heart drop. “Would you mind if I….”

  A man known for his way with words. Ever the sweet talker with the cunning ability to charm and persuade his way through most situations. Her silky skin almost bare except for the royal purple panties. Her round and full breasts with delicious chocolate buds awaiting his exploration. But it was the whisper of his words on her lips that reached to the depths of him.

  Wide open. Laid bare. Exposed.

  Needing. Longing. Wanting. Brione.

  He closed the space between until he stood between her legs, he bent over resting a hand near her shoulder. His mouth covered hers, thoughts of teasing or prolonging their pleasure were out. Pleasing her was his only desire. After thoroughly kissing her, he pulled back, and her eyes fluttered open. The thick haze of passion lingered in her eyes.

  “Don’t stop singing.” He cupped the heavy underside of her sweet mounds, and she moaned. He squeezed and caressed, gently at first, then rougher. Her nipples went tight, as her head fell back groaning, as if in agony.

  “Sing.” His voice was firm, final.

  “Would you mind if I tell you I love having you by my side?”

  He used his tongue to trace his way across the rise of her breast and to the valley between as she gripped the back of his neck, her nails pressing into his skin.

  “Would you mind if I—”

  He flicked his tongue over the left nipple, closing down over it while his fingers kneaded the other. “Don’t stop.”

  “I can’t…when you,” her breathy admission made him hard as a rock. Yearning to be inside her.

  “Don’t you want your gift?” He sat over her loving the sight and sounds of her squirming beneath him. He dipped and covered her right breast, suckling her. She nodded her eagerness for him to continue sampling her body. She arched her back pushing their bodies closer together.

  The words of Intoxicated would forever have this moment stamped in his mind. His body ached to be inside her. Not yet. He had to taste her sweetness first.

  “Would you mind if my tongue finds the—” her voice broke. She opened her mouth to him, and he gladly accepted. Their tongues entwined. He wanted to consume everything that was her. Her sighs, her moans, her soul without restraint.

  “Sing princess.”

  “…core of you…”

  Brione’s entire body tingled from his touch. She gripped a handful of the sheets as he traveled down her stomach, leaving a trail of moisture sending a shiver down her spine.

  “I can’t hear you.” He gathered her leg draping it over his broad shoulder.

  Marques nuzzled the inside of her knee, her thigh. Then the moist heat of his breath brushed between her legs and by reflex she clenched her thighs around his head. This was one part of lovemaking she had never experienced. The faint sound of the music in the room did not compare to the drums infiltrating her ears as his hand moved to where she ached for him.

  She glanced down, breathless, not knowing what to expect. He rubbed her; instinct made her press toward him.

  “Are you ready?” His eyes glistened with a maleness that good sense told her nothing would be the same after tonight. The look in his eyes. The touch of his hand. The taste of his tongue. And now he was nestled between her legs with a wicked grin on his face.

  No, she was not ready. She shook her head. And the fool chuckled.

  “I seem to recall a certain someone making a case based on, how did she put it?” He turned his head as if in deep thought, stroking her throbbing jewel. Daring her body to do anything other than want him like crazy.

  “Ahhh…I remember.” He kissed her inner thigh closer to the source of her heat. “She said, and I quote, ‘based on the cold, hard facts.' Sorry princess, but I believe my facts are not cold.”

  Kiss.

  “But very, very hot.”

  Kiss.

  This time he was so close to her ache she thought she’d explode. They would find the remains of her body in a million unrecognizable pieces. The thought of begging him to finish entered her mind. Then his tongue darted out and brushed the entrance of her wet heat.

  She gasped.

  He nibbled and teased working her folds open until flesh met flesh. Her breath hitched in her chest; her heart raced as he loved her in the most intimate way. She arched into him, as he explored deeper with his thick tongue.

  “Andrew. Please…” She begged and pleaded as the pressure built, he didn’t stop his assault. Her back arched off the bed fighting against the heat circling her body and a battle between ending the torture or giving in to desire waged on.

  “Sing baby.” His tongue thrashed inside her, working her open, driving her wild. How did he expect her to sing? Then his tongue hit ecstasy, her pleas for release filled the room.

  “Andrew.” She bucked against the sensation, his large hand snaked behind her lower back, his sturdy forearm pulled her closer, and her wall tightened, radiating through her body, the heat spread. She thrust into him as if riding his tongue until the waves of pure pleasure came crashing down.

  Hours later he watched her sleep after carrying her into their home for the next week. He decided right then and there. The next time they made love she’d know it was for keeps.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Marques watched her sleep cradled near his heart. He thought he was once in love. But that feeling did not compare to this. He smoothed her hair back away from her forehead and kissed her softly on the l
ips not wanting to wake her.

  “What time is it?” Brione asked not opening her eyes.

  “A little after two.”

  “Are we there yet?” Her voice sounded like an expectant child.

  “We’ve been here, Sleeping Beauty.” He smiled thinking about it. They arrived a couple of hours ago.

  “What?” She became instantly awake and pushed up from his shoulder scanning the room. “How did I get in here?”

  “I carried you.”

  “Through the lobby?” She looked mortified.

  “No, princess. The front door.”

  “Oh.” That seemed to please her as she snuggled back against his chest.

  They had traveled for almost two months, her constant state of unrest showed she still hadn’t adjusted to life on the road. It was a crazy schedule of long nights and short days, each city bleeding into the next.

  He, on the other hand, loved it. Many nights after leaving the show he went to a local studio, knowing Brione would pass out as soon as he jumped in the car. It was thrilling to know this was his life. The life he always thought he’d have, traveling from place to place sharing music. He couldn’t remember a time when this hadn’t been his dream.

  Perfect even. He bet on himself, and RSE, and now they were all winning.

  Her soft snores resumed. He glanced at his princess and felt surprised by the amount of head and heart space such a tiny woman filled. He was truly happy. No, it was more intense that happiness. He scanned her face as she smacked her lips and scratched her nose. This little woman made him feel joy.

  The Sinsation rules lingered on the perimeter of this monumental moment. The thought that he could travel the world and pick any honey he wanted didn’t come close to the possibility of having Brione at his side.

  What about her secrets? He knew it was big. Why else would it render the self-reliant, strong woman to tears at a moment's notice? Never in front of him intentionally, but when he least expected it. A secret that threatened to rob them both of this newly found joy they had, together.