A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones)(22)

Melody heard Dylan call her name, and she did something she had never  done before: she panicked. Ducking into the greenroom backstage, she  stared around for a place to hide, and, in a fit of desperation, climbed  inside an equipment closet and pulled the curtain shut behind her. The  fabric was ancient and frayed in spots, so threadbare that she could  actually see through it into the room.

Her heart was still going nuts, and her brain was joining in for the  first time, disgusted by her cowardly behavior. But she just needed a  minute to think and collect herself before she faced him. After  that … that declaration, or whatever it had been, she needed time to  process, because her first instinct was to throw herself into his arms,  and to hell with the future.

Just like you did with Ian.

I never wanted Ian like this.

It was the truth. Ian had been an act of rebellion from a girl who  should have known better. She knew that Hop would hate the idea of her  with Dylan-maybe more than he'd hated the idea of her with Ian-but she  realized her father's opinion wasn't affecting her at all in this  situation.

She wanted Dylan because she wanted him. She wanted him because  underneath all the layers there was a genuine person, and that was the  person she was finding herself drawn to more and more. She wanted him  because his bandmates were like brothers to him, and she wanted him  because when he looked at her, really looked at her, without any  pretense or bullshit between them, there was a fraction of a second  where she couldn't remember her own name.

The guys piled into the greenroom. Rip already had a blonde on each arm.  Dylan came in last, scouring the room as if looking for something.

"Have you guys seen Mel?" he asked.

"Not yet," Jesper said, looking up from his phone.

"She seemed really into the idea of a private hotel room," Tank said.

"I think she was going to take a bath and sleep for a week," Jesper chuckled.

"Her loss. You snooze you lose," Rip quipped. He jerked his head in Dylan's direction. "You wanna hang out?"

"Yeah, Dylan," one of the girls breathed, her chest heaving in anticipation. "Come hang out with us."

The blondes breathed sex, amped up from the concert and infected with  the excitement of being backstage with rock stars. Melody knew how easy  it was to fall into that kind of desire; it was fun but empty. A  momentary release that never left you satisfied for long.

Groupies were the sexual equivalent of eating Chinese food. Three hours  later and you'll just be hungry again. She was certain that he hadn't  been with any groupies since she'd run into that brunette at the  beginning of the tour-they were in such close quarters that it was easy  for her to keep an eye on him-but there was no way he'd just walk away  from a golden opportunity like this. A pain rent its way through her  chest...it wasn't jealousy, it was more like disappointment. Maybe even  heartbreak.

Dylan shook his head, looking distracted. "I'm good," he said, pulling  out his phone. Melody perked up at once-he was turning down the  groupies. It seemed too good to be true. She watched him carefully as he  turned away from the girls. It looked like he was texting someone.

Her back pocket vibrated. Melody jumped, glad she hadn't banged into  anything and drawn attention to herself. She pulled out her phone,  anxious and excited at the same time.

Way to leave a brother hanging. Enjoy your bath. I'll enjoy picturing you in it. ;) - Dylan

She read it twice before she believed it. She watched him walk away from  Rip and the blondes and pull out a bottle of ginger ale before she  could force her brain to catch up with her heart.

Little girls who didn't know their minds hid in closets and panicked  because they were afraid of the unknown. But Melody wasn't afraid. She  knew what she wanted and if she got hurt...well, then she got hurt.  Denying what she wanted had never been an option for her. She pulled out  her phone and sent Dylan a text.

The bath can wait. Meet me by the piano at the hotel lobby? xoxo Mel

She watched him run a distracted hand through his hair as he glanced  down at his phone. It must have still been on vibrate, too. A little  smile tugged at his mouth as he read. She loved that smile. It was real.  It was beautiful.         

     



 

And, if she wasn't very much mistaken, it might finally be hers.





7


Dylan checked his phone for the third time. Melody's text hadn't been  ambiguous, yet he'd been waiting almost half an hour for her to arrive.  Part of him wondered if she was just messing with his head...no, it  couldn't be. She wasn't that kind of person. Melody meant what she said,  and she said what she meant.

To the point where I'd like to strangle her sometimes.

The bar had already been closing by the time Dylan had gotten there.  He'd slipped the hotel manager some cash in order to reserve the space  for a couple of hours. Now he was already down thirty minutes. He  checked his phone again to discover that a new text had appeared.  Uncertainty clenched at his stomach; was she canceling? Had she decided  that she didn't want to waste her evening with the jerk who did nothing  but pick fights with her all day? Swallowing his anxiety, he looked at  the text.

5 more minutes. So sorry. I couldn't get away. :) xo, Mel

That was an odd way to put it, but Dylan didn't care. A wide smile  spread slowly across his face, and he felt as though it would be etched  there permanently. Nothing could remove it, not now. He started  whistling, and realized the tune that had popped into his head was the  one they'd been working on the last time they'd sat at a piano together.

He slid onto the bench of the bar's piano, his fingers finding the right  keys effortlessly. The melody flowed out of him, as simple and natural  as breathing. Every note was a work of art, a song that told of sun-gold  hair and sparkling green eyes. When had she become such an obsession?

He heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him, and felt her slide  into place on the bench next to him. Her hands joined his on the sea of  ivory keys, and they fell into a rhythm together, just as they had  before. That rhythm heated up; the notes remained light and playful, but  now there was a deeper, sensual longing to them, as well. Whenever his  hand brushed one of hers, the touch sent a frisson of excitement racing  through him. Their legs were pressed so close together that he could  feel her body heat radiating through her well-worn jeans.

This wasn't just about creating music-they were stoking the fire they  had ignited, performing a mating ritual. He had never experienced this  with any other woman.

Because you've never been with someone you knew this well. Because  you've never risked falling for someone who could rip your heart out if  she left.

God, it would hurt when things ended...and things always ended. That was  how the world worked. But for the first time in his life, Dylan didn't  care; he knew that the time they would have together would be worth the  pain that followed, when she remembered what a fuck-up he was and left.

The song slowly came to a close. The notes tapered off gently, as if  neither of them wanted the music to stop. Dylan knew he didn't. He  wanted to simultaneously exist forever in this moment, yet also move  onto the next one. He was greedy when it came to Melody; no matter how  much she gave him, he wanted more. And he was starting to believe she  wanted more from him, too. He wasn't sure why she'd had such a change of  heart-he knew he didn't deserve it-but he was smart enough to take  whatever she offered without thinking twice.

Melody broke the silence first. "Hi," she said softly, one side of her bow-shaped mouth quirking upwards.

"Hi," he repeated. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Her lips were soft, wet and open the moment he reached them. That was  Melody: open, giving, warm. He wanted to drown in her, to consume her.  He was doing it again-wanting this moment to last while even as he  longed for the following moments, which held the promise of even deeper  intimacy between the two of them. He slid his tongue over her lower lip.  Her taste, a perfect mix of sweet and spicy, made him groan with  desire. This girl was everything he hadn't known he wanted, and she had  him tilting at windmills, wondering if he was capable of having  something real, after all.

Melody leaned into him farther, her hands clutching at his hips, one of  them sliding up to grip the side of his head. Her fingers tugged at his  hair in the most tantalizing manner. His hands were all over her,  running up and down her back, sliding underneath her jeans, never  settling in any one spot because he was desperate to touch them all. It  would be so easy to make her clothes disappear, to press her against the  piano as he pressed himself inside her and found a different way to  play with her...

Dylan pulled away, putting space between their bodies. It was, hands down, the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do.

"Don't get shy on me now," she laughed, moving toward him again, her  mouth searching for his. He wanted her to find her lips more than  anything, but he knew he had to say this. He owed it to her.