Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

SKYLAR

F ive Pi?a Coladas, two shots of vodka, and three beers.

That's how many drinks I'd turned down since walking into Jagger Sullivan's showcase at the hallowed venue on Music Row. The rumored news of his signing with Rhylan Morgan ran rampant for weeks now, and it was standing room only. After the song he wrote? Radio couldn't keep up.

Which was why every damn station in Music City, and across the country, picked it up, not to be outdone.

For the tenth time in less than seven minutes, I smoothed my hands along the hem of the skirt I chose this morning. Regretfully, because the damn thing was akin to a red cape in a room full of bulls, just looking for something to run toward and conquer.

Fuck that, I thought to myself.

When did I turn into this person who let a man's reaction to what I'm wearing excuse their behavior? My fist clenched, unclenched, and I squared my shoulders. One cursory glance around the venue, which for being so famous, was so much smaller than I thought it would be. I remember the first time I walked up to the nondescript strip mall-like location and wondered how the hell a place like this was so magical.

Then I got inside and the air tingled as if I stepped through a portal to a mythical and holy place.

Dreams. Possibility. Tinker Bell must have made this her permanent residence and sprinkled Pixie Dust on everyone once their foot crossed the threshold. The fairy lights strung across the walls. The ceiling should've been cheesy, but it wasn't. It was breathtaking.

A thousand wishes, twinkling and lighting the path for dreams to come true. Even as jaded as I'd become in such a short period, the magic still made me tingle all over like a long-lost friend each time I walked through the hallowed doors.

I waved my fingers at Austin, the bartender that had arrived in Nashville the same month I did. He tipped his chin as he slid what he jokingly called a ‘Skylar Classic' my way on the bar.

Lime hard seltzer, strawberries, and El Jimador white tequila. Basic bitch, but it was the only sippable drink I allowed myself in a bar setting.

If I shot vodka on the rocks, it meant I'd have a hell of a hangover in the morning, a few songs about heartbreak, or getting over a heartbreak by climbing on top of someone else.

Talon hated that one, even if it was a duet Jagger and I recorded the demo late into the night after a writing session with Ains. My agent sent ‘Choices' over, and crickets.

I sipped my fizziness and eyed the room. The place buzzed with excitement, but the butterflies in my stomach weren't from the upcoming performance.

In a corner booth on the other side of the bar, watching me with a look that said he knew what I wore under my skirt and wanted to peel them off.

With his teeth.

I licked my lips, parched, and wished my glass was larger, or maybe magically refilled itself when no one was looking.

It's now or never. Ainsley mentioned in passing that Rhylan Morgan and Jagger were about to announce their pairing up soon, but seeing him acting like he owned the place, threw me for a split second before I threw the confident, carefree mask I'd taken to wearing in public back on.

Rhylan fucking Morgan. Not his business manager. My eyes widened in shock as the reality of the situation I found myself in hit me before I gathered my wits and schooled my features.

Shit.

And from the way his gaze traced his way from my feet, up my bare legs, to the white tank and cropped jacket I loved because it was well worn and vintage. Plus, it had pockets on the inside lining. Pockets were the way to any girl's heart.

When his eyes stopped on my face, I swore something flashed across his face. My body reacted as if I was naked and begging for him. Rhylan Morgan commanded a stage like no one I had ever seen. Ten years of hits, and he still understood the heartbeat of country. But his songs played on every popular station. Not just country music radio. Sold-out concerts, women throwing themselves at him, especially after his very public divorce.

His eyes locked on mine, and electricity shot down my spine when they dropped to my lips with a sexy grin. The little devil sitting on my shoulder demanded that I run over and sit on his lap…or under the table, on my knees.

What the ever-loving hell?

Nope. Not gonna happen.

He canted his head, as if to say, ‘I'm waiting, sweetheart.'

Here goes nothing. But, Mr. Rhylan Morgan was so in for a surprise if he thought I'd be all over him and gushed like some fan. I mean, I loved his music. But I was so over men in this town trying to reduce me to a set of tits and an ass.

With a fortifying breath, I arched my back as I made my way to his table. One foot in front of the other. No matter how many times I walked into rooms with people I either grew up listening to or sang along to at the top of my lungs when I drove around for hours, the butterflies always fluttered and made the giddiness return.

I hated the business side, the things I had to do to ‘promote' my music. Music that no longer felt like my own. And sometimes, it wasn't. My catalog of 13 songs was owned by the label. All because I had been na?ve and couldn't afford a lawyer to look things over, and trusted they had my best interests in heart.

When I neared the table, he stood with deliberate precision, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Mr. Morgan," I acknowledged as I sat my drink on the table and extended my hand. "I'm-"

"I know. Sorry for the subterfuge."

I laughed, a little too loudly. "Subterfuge? Is that what we're calling this? I thought I'd at least get a drink out of things before-"

His eyes narrowed as the man I missed next to him cleared his throat. Fuck, his business manager. My cheeks warmed as Rhylan took my hand in his.

"Oh, sweetheart, I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I asked Drew not to tell you I was the one who asked to meet with you, and not him." He paused, his hand warm and comforting. Still, I shifted as a decadent fire spread from where his skin touched mine to all the secret and not so secret places.

A little voice whispered, then argued with the sensible side of me, denying how his touch had any effect on me whatsoever.

No, fuck that.

My lady parts begged me to let this man do things that would get both of us in a lot of trouble. And thrown out. Probably hauled off to jail. All over a man who is so much older than any boyfriend I've had. Or flirted with. Or thought about.

Except for Klaus. Those original vampires had some kind of swagger I couldn't resist. Many a pint of Ben & Jerry's fell to that swagger.

Might be why my ass gained real estate.

Thank God Klaus was a fictional character, because I'm pretty sure I'd be all stalkery and obsessive. But, alas…

Rhylan Morgan, sexy? More dangerous than any fictional hybrid vampire/werewolf could ever be. Spoiler alert. And he made places tingle that shouldn't. His eyes, so dark and commanding yet flecked with an amusement I couldn't quite figure out, locked me in place.

The man stole my breath, and we had only known each other for a few minutes. Or more accurately, only shared the same space, breathing the same air, for mere moments.

One side of my lips lifted, then I tugged my bottom lip with my teeth. A shiver ran along my spine when his stare darted to them, pupils dilating. "And you lied because?"

Eyes shot back up to mine with a sexy smirk. Electricity and attraction jumped between us when our hands met, and he knew it. And made sure I did, too.

I pulled my hand out of his, but refused to look away. Two can play this game, Ace.

He gestured at the seat beside me, opposite to where he lowered himself down to, still wearing that self satisfied smug smile on his devastatingly handsome face.

I schooled my expression, keeping all my thoughts on lockdown. Inside, my inner slut panted. On the outside?

Calm. In control. And not a care.

"I want you," he said.

I blinked at the words. Mouth dry, heart pounding.

"To join my label."

Fuck. Of course.

Business. This was a business meeting. Get it together, Skylar. I swallowed before I answered, returning that damn smirk. "I already have a label, and they pretty much own me, Ace."

His eyes darkened with an unnamed emotion as he countered my reply. "Oh, sweetheart. They don't. Not anymore. I own you."

My jaw dropped, and I stared at him as his words registered. Own me? "Wait, what?" My cheeks flushed, both from the clear innuendo and from not knowing anything about what he was talking about. There went my false bravado.

Rhylan leaned forward just enough that I caught a whiff of whatever aftershave or soap he used. Great, now a picture of Rhylan Morgan, stark naked, all muscular (because of course he would be, judging by his damn forearms) sudsy and wet and…

Drew stood and nodded at us both. "I will leave you to discuss the details. Rhy, be back with Jagger in a few."

Rhylan dipped his chin, but never looked away from me.

And then there were two.

"I bought out your contract. So," he drawled as he tilted his head. "You belong to me now, sweetheart."

What the hell? "Oh, Ace, you are seriously mistaken. I've never belonged to anyone. Ever."

He shrugged. "First time for everything." His intimate tone curled my toes and again, I fought the urge to squirm.

Instead, I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at him.

"The same contract, clauses and stipulations. Songs. I own it all. So, while you may say that, sweetheart, I've heard the demos. You pour almost everything you have into your songwriting."

"Almost?" My anger at how this man thought he knew me boiled until I could swear steam came out of my ears.

Again, he shrugged. "There's a reason you haven't had success. They're surface."

"Surface?" I sputtered. Oh, he did not just insult my songs while looking at me like he wanted to do unspeakable, dirty things. Naked things. Partially naked. Oh, God, was I projecting?

Lord, I needed to get laid. Or at least charge my favorite toy. At least they never told me they owned me. And made me all squirmy, wanting…wet. Ok, maybe when used correctly. But they never made me want to throw the drink in my hand at them.

He nodded. "You're talented, but there's a reason you've been stuck where you are, Skylar."

Oh God, the way he said my name.

Hell, no, Sky. This is not happening. Do not start fantasizing about the asshole that just bought out your contract and said you basically suck at the thing you love doing more than anything in this life.

"Sunrise Beach in two weeks, and we'll record the track after we rework it."

I shook my head. Fuck. While I had been trying to convince myself not to get all hot and bothered, I blanked out on half of what Tall, Dark, and Country Singer said.

"Sunrise Beach?" I hissed, annoyed at his expression. He knew I missed most of what he said and enjoyed every single minute.

"My studio is there. And I have a few guest bedrooms. I'll have Drew message you and send a car when the plane is ready."

"The plane?"

Shit . I spontaneously turned into a parrot. A very pissed off parrot.

Amused and smug as fuck, he inclined his head in challenge. I shot him a withering glare and ignored how my body responded. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Rhylan chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart, I own-"

"Stop saying that!" I sputtered, then clamped my jaw shut, glaring at him.

Drew chose that moment to return with Jagger Sullivan, who nodded at me. But I ignored him, choosing to shoot death glares at the far too sexy, cocky, and arrogant man in front of me.

The two of them talked for a moment, and as Jagger walked away, I muttered, "Excuse me, gentlemen. " I hissed the last word, then downed my concoction, spun on my heel, and walked away.

Might've swayed my hips since Tall, Dark, And Cowboy seemed to like what he saw. But if he thought for one moment, I was going to take this lying down, he was sorely mistaken.

In the darkened hallway leading to the restrooms, I leaned back against the wall, staring at the lights strung along the ceiling, even in the dim hallway. Eyes shut tight, I drew in a steadying breath. Counted to ten.

Right before I hit one, hands grabbed my waist. I was just about to knee the asshole who dared to lay a finger on me when I recognized the scent surrounding me.

Shit. I opened my eyes, but before I could protest, Rhylan Morgan's lips crashed into mine. Expensive whiskey, cinnamon, sin, and all the things I fantasized about at the table danced on my tongue.

Where he declared how he owned me.

His hand came up the front of my body, agonizingly slow, until he circled my neck. Hand hot and gentle yet holding me so still that I forgot to breathe. He tightened his grip as he studied my face watching my reactions. The bulge in his jeans nudged at my body, and the moan I let slip was so full of want that my cheeks flushed.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he rasped. His knee nudged my thighs apart, giving me the chance to tell him to stop. But I didn't. I needed him there, and I rubbed shamelessly against his leg. Desperate for friction to soothe the ache. It wasn't enough, but fuck, it felt so good. And wrong at the same time. My hand went over the one at my neck, not to take it away but to give permission. Those dark eyes looked back at me with something so possessive and utterly masculine that I arched and writhed as he tightened the grip. Stopping any breath from entering my lungs. But it didn't matter, because I wasn't breathing, anyway. Holding it in, needing some kind of release.

"Do you need this? Ride my thigh, little Swallow. Come on my leg. Use me to soothe that ache. That's it baby." All the while, he didn't lessen his hold, and fuck. The pressure built low in my belly. Teasing and taunting until I was mindless.

His lips descended and claimed my mouth with every jolt of electricity sparking between us over and over.

I moaned into his mouth, gave into his touch, taste, and the hard bulge that pressed into my belly. Rocking on his hard thigh. Wanting more, but knowing it wasn't a wise choice.Indulged for a moment until I regained my senses and shoved him back. Hard.

Rhylan Morgan was all man, and every inch of his body heated mine up like a wildfire where we met. Even though he was breathing as heavily as I was and turned on if the erection saying ‘ Hi' as loud as it could was any sign, he released me.

"If you think you can insult my music, then do that in an attempt to make me more pliable-"

Again, that dark chuckle snaked its way to the place I craved his touch. "Sweetheart, make no mistake, I think you're talented as fuck. But everyone has things to learn."

"And you're going to teach me, Ace?" I asked, voice breathless yet still defiant.

His hand, big and strong, swept a lock of hair from my face. "Oh, I'm going to teach you so many things, Sparrow." The warmth in my cheeks intensified. He dropped his hand, the side of his mouth lifting in the type of sexy grin that made panties fly onto the stage when he sang. I glared back at him. "See you at the beach, sweetheart."

He leaned in and kissed me, a promise and demand all wrapped into one. And stalked away, leaving me breathless, turned on, and pissed as fuck.