Bad Boy Makeover by Christine Glover

Author:Christine Glover
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Christine Glover

Worry puckered Kayla’s brow and she chewed her lower lip, thinking. There was something else flickering in her eyes. Wariness. Here was a side to her that he’d anticipated. One carrying secrets.

Dangerous, seductive secrets.

Despite his own inner war, his ongoing battle against the music that had brought him so much yet had taken even more, he wanted to play for her. He’d wrestle with the why later. “You’re right,” he said. “I did.”

The lines in her face relaxed, and she smiled. “Wonderful.”

Five minutes later, he paced in his music room. Pictures of his band, his friends, lined the walls. Gold plated albums, awards graced the shelves he’d paid an interior decorator to buy and install for him. Sound proofed walls muzzled the pouring rain outside, dim lights illuminated the corners and she’d propped her feet up on the brown leather sectional, her eyes wide and eager, waiting to hear him play.

He walked to his grand piano, sat, then cracked his knuckles, and flexed his fingers three times. “I’m working out the lyrics so this piece is rough in places.”

“Quit stalling.”

She kept her tone light, as if trying to reassure him, but his pulse thrummed in his ears, pounding louder than the bass section of full orchestra. His nerves were strung as tight as violin strings. Suddenly, playing for a larger audience appealed more to him than playing for a sexy single one.

Kayla wasn’t like the women he’d impressed with his songs and his charade. The feelings she aroused in him, and the need to lose to himself in her, to gain her approval unsettled him.

He shook the disturbing thought out of his brain. His music, the brooding melodies and aching riffs would draw her to him. Then he’d possess her, claim her. Let her claim him in return.

He pressed the cold keys, danced his fingers along the black and whites, played different riffs. He sang notes up and down his vocal range, warming up his voice and clearing his mind.

The melody he’d written after the crash, here in his mountain home, flowed through him and onto the piano. He surrendered to the moment, and the song, with all the pain and the promises he’d woven throughout the song.

The piano warmed to his touch the way a woman heated to his desire.

A woman like Kayla.

He shot her a glance. Her eyes, always expressive, had dreams stirring through them. She’d tucked her elfin face into the cradle of her fingers, listening to him as if hearing him sing for the first time. A pink blush stained her chest, her cheeks. And her full lips parted as if whispering a sigh of want.

He imagined that sigh, that whispered release coming from her as she lay beneath him. Fire licked low, and he played on, luring her with the one hook he’d never lost.

He poured his soul into the music until he belted out the final riff, the piano accompaniment thundering in the room, contained by the walls but not by his heart. The final fortissimo shuddered through his veins, each note a strike of pain along his shattered nerves.

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