Connor stepped back into the house and went up the stairs to her studio. He drew up short when he saw the metal Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.
He sighed. She’d made it clear that when the sign was out, she wasn’t to be disturbed for any reason. He didn’t believe for a minute she was deeply involved in her music.
As much as the belligerent Lyric had gotten under his skin, he preferred that to quiet resignation. He’d be damned if he’d let anyone beat her down. She was too vibrant. Too alive. She was like holding a stick of dynamite. You never knew when she’d go off.
And she didn’t trust anyone—Connor included.
He put his palm flat on the door and rested his forehead on the wood as he heard the faint sounds of her guitar floating through the air. He remembered the words she’d sung so softly just a short time ago.
If you only knew
If you could only see
If you could only come inside
And see the heart of me.
“You’re going to trust me, Lyric Jones,” he murmured. “You’re going to see that I’m not like everyone else in your life.”
He turned and went downstairs to meet Lyric’s chef. The man had cupcakes to make.
CHAPTER 16
Lyric put her guitar down and flexed her neck, then extended her arms above her head to stretch her tired, aching muscles. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was late.
She was hungry, but she had no desire to go down and eat. What she wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed, in that precise order.
She let herself out of the studio and turned the sign over so that Connor would know she was no longer working. She went straight for her bathroom and turned on the shower.
A long soak in the gorgeous bathtub would be wonderful, but she was too impatient and edgy to enjoy it. She opted instead for a quick shower, careful to keep her hair from getting wet.
When she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and shook out her hair from the clip she’d shoved into it to hold it up. She spent another five minutes removing what makeup hadn’t washed off in the shower and applying moisturizer.
Eager to crawl into bed, she walked out of her bathroom only to find Connor propped against the wall in her bedroom.
She clutched the towel although the ends were securely tucked at her breasts, covering most of her from his view.
“Don’t you think you’ve been hiding up here long enough?” Connor asked as he pushed off the wall.
She frowned. “I was busy. I have work to do. I told you that.”
His eyes narrowed. “You let Kane get to you. Kane and the newscast. I saw you, Lyric. You can’t hide from me.”
Her nostrils flared and she turned away. “You don’t get it, Connor.”
“What don’t I get, Lyric? Why don’t you explain it to me?”
She kept her back to him, her arms folded protectively over her breasts. “The whole thing was my fault. I was a complete idiot.”
“I believe we’ve established that I had responsibility in that fiasco.”
She curled her lips in disgust. “No, Connor. I let you hurt me. I’m a study in don’t-give-a-damn, but I let you get to me. That’s why I left. That’s why I took off the way I did. I didn’t want to let you see how much you hurt me.”
His hands closed over her shoulders and he gently turned her to face him. “I’m sorry.”
She pushed away from his grasp and had to clutch at the towel to keep it from falling. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want you to . . . be anything.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said quietly.
Her gaze flew to his and something remarkably like panic skittered up her spine and wrapped around her neck. He had a look in his eyes that she didn’t like. It untied her like a knot and peeled back her skin, leaving her naked and vulnerable. She hated that feeling.
She opened her mouth but couldn’t for the life of her think of what to say to that. How could he know? How could he possibly know that she had the craziest thoughts about him? She was absolutely stupid when it came to him and she was helpless to control it.
He took a step forward, closing the gap she’d opened between them. She retreated, bumping against the bed in her haste. He followed, not giving her so much as an inch.
“I think you want me to be a lot of things,” he murmured. “I think right now you want me to be your lover. I think you want me to show you how different I am from everyone else in your life. You’re afraid that I’m different from everyone else.”
She stared at him in helpless fury, appalled at how well he could see into her soul. She blinked back angry tears just as his hands cupped her face and he lowered his mouth to hers.
It was like being caught in the middle of a lightning storm. Awareness sparked and sizzled, so hot that she gasped from the sensation.
He kissed her like he owned her, like she was his, like he was the only person to have ever kissed her. His tongue explored her mouth, leaving no part untouched.
Her body was not her own. Her breasts throbbed, and deep down at her very core, an ache began and spread through her groin until her clit pulsed and her pussy tightened with anticipation.
All from a kiss. Just the touch of his mouth, and desire swept over her like a tidal wave.
She loved his hands. How they touched her and held her. How possessive they felt on her skin. He wasn’t tentative and she really loved that. This was a man confident in his ability to make love to a woman.
She closed her eyes and trembled violently against him. She was in turns terrified of her reaction to him and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.
“I won’t hurt you, Lyric,” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to know what it feels like to have someone love you.”
She tensed and backed away enough that she could put a finger to his lips. “Please don’t say that word. Please, just don’t. Don’t ruin everything.”
His eyes clouded with confusion. “What word?”
“Love. Don’t ever use that word.”
He gave her a searching look and then reached up to brush the hair from her face. “I won’t use any words you don’t want. I’ll simply show you.”
She stared back at him and knew he was waiting. Waiting for her to agree. Waiting for her acceptance. It would be so easy to push him away. Far easier than voicing the words that ached to break free.
“Tell me what you want, Lyric. Give me the words.”
Her breath escaped in a nearly violent shudder. “I don’t want . . . I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He came to her again, his mouth brushing over hers in the most tender of kisses. “That’s a start.”
Slowly he slid his hands up to where her fingers clutched the towel. He paused for a moment and then carefully uncurled her fingers before lowering her hands to her sides.
She shook. Her knees quaked and her breath sped up so fast that she became precariously light-headed. Then he lowered his head and pressed a single kiss to her chest, just above where the towel covered her breasts.
“I won’t hurt you, Lyric.”
Just the way he said her name with such aching tenderness undid her. On his lips, her name was something different. It wasn’t just her name. It was an endearment—something very precious.
He raised his head and met her gaze and she saw herself reflected in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”
Mutely she shook her head, her reaction as automatic as breathing.
He smiled when she thought she might have angered him.
“I think you do,” he murmured. “Even if you won’t admit it to yourself.”