Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

RHYLAN

T he rain outside pelted the ground as the wind began its relentless howling and pounding outside. Skylar's eyes widened every time something flew across the back, over the pool, and the pulse point at her neck throbbed. I handed her a cup of coffee, but I was pretty sure she was wide awake and probably didn't need the caffeine coursing through her veins.

I wasn't stupid enough to deny a woman her coffee or give her decaf.

"Are you sure we're safe? It looks like that guy from the Weather Channel would get blown away out there. And he's a professional." Her eyes remained trained on the chaos outside as she sipped her coffee. Both of her hands wrapped around her mug, knuckles turning white from clasping it in her grip. Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she looked from the wind and rain outside to me.

"We're safe," I promised. Mug in hand, I gestured to the windows. "This is pretty mild. A few years back, it got wicked. And it might not be indestructible, but when the previous owners built this place, they went all out on hurricane grade materials and construction."

"Aren't all the houses around here built all anti-hurricane?"

I couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped. Fuck, she was so cute and sexy. In my kitchen. Drinking coffee I made her. "Not necessarily. But if I'm here, I stay unless there's an evacuation order." Her eyes widened. "Doesn't happen often, but not everyone stays. Sunrise Beach is a sleepy tourist town. Not as much club action as downtown Nashville," I added.

"Sounds perfect. Wait, you like staying in the middle of," one hand not holding her coffee flapped and flopped, "this?"

Clouds, gray and turbulent, covered the sky as rain increased outside, steady and heavy. Winds gusted, causing the rain to fall sideways now and then.

"I do."

"Why in God's green earth?"

Chin jerked in the ocean's direction. "The way the ocean changes. Adapts. The storm rolling in. The clouds. There's nothing more beautiful." She focused on the outside and the weather creating all the chaos, but my eyes strayed to her face and stayed. Entranced by her to the point of obsession.

Sunset eyes, sun kissed streaks in her hair. A flimsy sundress and bare feet. A light dusting of freckles on her nose. Skylar belonged here, with me. But if she wanted to leave after our time together, I wouldn't stop her.

"I think I can see what you mean," she murmured, then turned, her hip leaning on the edge of the counter. "Do you think we'll lose power?"

I shrugged. "It's a strong possibility."

"But what if a girl needs to charge her new toys?" she asked, eyes flashing with fire and the damn defiance that had my cock twitching in the loose athletic pants I wore.

Fuck, Sparrow. I nearly groaned out loud, narrowing my gaze at her. I stepped in closer. "Then," I rasped, "she'd better get them charged before we lose power, then, shouldn't she?"

The mug made a clink as she placed it on the counter. "Best not to waste a single moment, then." She turned away, then stopped and threw over her shoulder. "Might need an extra outlet or two. Mind if I use your office, Morgan?"

The twitched turned to a fucking hard-on. Toys were not competition. They were teammates.

And imagining her using them? With me watching, or using them on her?

Fuck. I grunted a response, and she walked away with a loud giggle.

This woman was going to be the death of me.

But what a fun way to go.

Five hours, one workout, and one hell of a shower-release-while-picturing-Skylar-and-her-toys later, I checked the hurricane app that tracked the storm, its intensity, and, among other things, like power outages. The storm built in strength, and would hit land early in the morning. Which meant the brunt of the storm was going to wreck the coast tonight.

I spent the next half hour hiding behind the corner in front of my bedroom, watching Skylar doing yoga in the foyer. A thick yoga mat beneath her body as she flowed from pose to pose, her body strong, her breath even. Not like it was whenever we were in the same vicinity. Each time she shifted, the gorgeous lines of her frame pulled me in. And I was helpless to resist the call.

The storm outside raged, but it was nothing compared to the need raging within me to claim the girl I couldn't stay away from. The girl I risked my entire future on to make sure she had one.

Skylar might think I bought her contract out to have control over her, but I did it so she held the control from here on out. As soon as we wrote our first song and laid down the demo, the clause that allowed me to get out of any deal was null and void.

For a moment, I allowed myself the fantasy I'd been dreaming about since Skylar stepped through my front door. Her body next to mine at night, eyes sleep-filled as she said good morning to me. Nights of writing at the piano in the studio in our pj's, drinking coffee in the morning as we watched the sunrise.

Not wanting to disturb her, I shut my door with care, because I hadn't heard her leave her room yet. I thought maybe she took a nap and was still asleep. But, as I turned to go downstairs, I heard a strange sound and noticed her door was ajar. A whimper came from her room, and I crept toward her door, panicked that she might be hurt. As soon as I was about to knock on her door, I caught sight of her through the slit.

On the bed. Head thrown back. The sounds she made shot straight to my cock. Between her legs, her hand worked. That was when I heard the subtle buzz.

She was using one of those damn toys she had delivered to me. Pleasuring herself, just a few feet away. Her moans increased, gasping and her hand increasing the tempo. A flash of bright pink as she slid the vibrator in and out of her sweet pussy. But, fuck, I couldn't see it fully, or her sex as she fucked herself. Legs trembling, fingers working and she reached underneath her shirt. I imagined it was my hand touching her tits, tweaking and pinching her nipple. Fuck, I was about to come in my pants from listening to her pleasure herself. I stood there frozen, unable to leave as she neared the peak of her orgasm. And when it crashed over her, I had to stop myself from barging in and sinking into her heat. To fuck her until she came again. Use every damn toy in that box until she was boneless and spent.

A soft giggle, bliss-filled and sexy as hell, woke me from my stupor.

Fuck. The last thing I needed was Skylar catching me out here like a damn creeper. Cock stiff and hard as fuck, I ran through anything to get it to calm the fuck down as I backed away from the temptation of her body.

Cold showers. Lawyers meetings. Pineapple on pizza.

I made my way down the back staircase that led to the kitchen, and began pulling out things to make us a light lunch, as well as leftovers for later in case the power went out. My ex hated cooking, and I never witnessed her in the kitchen of the house we shared in Nashville unless she breezed through with her shopping bags on her way in from the garage. Cooking it was something I took solace in. Even on the road, I struggled letting anyone else prepare my meals. The only person I trusted to make anything for me, Liana, had been with me for five years now. Her husband was the head of my tour, and the two of them were more friends than employees.

Ironically, they both were cordial to Adrienne, but never warmed up to her.

Suffice it to say, I'd been blinded by a great pair of tits and a smile I never realized loved my money and status more than me.

When I had everything prepped and jogged down the stairs. Popped the leftovers into the fridge in the writing room. Back upstairs, I found Skylar in the kitchen. The sight of her there did funny things to my chest. My breath caught before she noticed I was staring at her.

Showered and gorgeous, she popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. "I never realized how domesticated you were, Rhylan Morgan."

A grin snaked across my mouth. "Admitting you've been thinking about me, Swallow?"

Skylar rolled her eyes, but she didn't deny it or the smirk that danced across her face. "I never admit to anything. But, seriously, where did you learn how to cook?"

I glanced at the spread. A pesto pasta salad, grilled chicken, California cabbage chopped with arugula and other leafy greens. And I didn't even show her the limoncello mousse I'd made.

After I found out she loved anything lemon.

Lightning cracked outside. I shrugged. "Sometimes the noise can become too much, and you can't always escape it. But cooking differs from singing or writing music. There's a creativity to it, but it's not the same. The act of cooking for someone is sacred. Feeding them or nourishing your own body? To be able to take care of another person by making them their favorite things?" A smile lit her face again. "It's a love language."

"Plus the way to someone's heart-"

"Is through their stomach." I pushed a plate toward her. "Here. I'm going to do one more sweep to make sure everything is secure. I'll meet you downstairs in an hour."

"You're very thorough," she observed.

I didn't bother to hide my smirk as I gave her a once over, head to bar toes. "You have no idea, Swallow." Before she could respond, I walked away to check the outside and make sure no loose items were around. The wind whipped, but it wasn't even close to how strong the winds were going to get later tonight and into the am.

I double-checked and safely stowed away or tied down everything outside. The rain picked up alongside the wind as I rounded the side of the pool. But the cold helped keep my dick from getting too excited about spending the night with Skylar. Her scent and smile. The way she furrowed her brow when working out a hook. The fist pump when she did. I wanted it all.

Whatever Skylar would give me, I was here for it. Fuck, I hadn't been this excited about writing music in years.

The rain soaked me through and through, so I jogged to my bedroom, dried off, and pulled on a pair of track pants and a black v-neck tee. The air cooled with the incoming weather, so before I headed downstairs, I took one of the fluffy blankets from the linen closet in the hallway and a few faux fur pillows in case Skylar got cold. As I neared the landing, I heard Skylar singing in the kitchen, and glimpsed her, eyes closed, hair up, and her AirPods in her ears.

"Unless you walk away, I stay trapped in your arms

Unless you touch my face, my heart won't raise the alarm

And unless you lie to me, I'll believe all you say…"

The melody we worked on last night fell from her lips, her voice rich and raspy and filled with emotion. This was the girl I first glimpsed and knew she was something special. Not the country pop clone the record label kept trying to churn out. A turned away before she noticed me, not wanting to disturb her, and took the stairs down to the lower level.

The recording studio wasn't the only place I wrote music. The room next to it, where Skylar and I wrote in the day before, held the awards and mementos that mean the most to me. This was home more than my place in Nashville.

A mini bar set up, complete with different whiskeys, and refrigerator, pantry, even a coffee maker. All stocked with the essentials. The walkout, visible when the double doors were open, hid farther back under the earth and upper part of the house. Safer than being upstairs with the wind, but still not foolproof against the elements if things went crazy.

Skylar's laptop and her stack of notebooks were already on the table from last night, but her guitar and the blue impressionist painting covered notebook she carried with her the last two days were missing.

DREW: Things going well? Or is she resisting your charms?

A ghost of a smirk passed over my lips. Drew was sure Skylar would resist and even though he disliked Adrienne from the get go, he saw Skylar for what she was. Raw talent and fire. Qualities that most artists in the business missed out on these days.

RHYLAN: She's a hell of a songwriter.

DREW: Storm's rolling in. Be safe. Have fun.

Asshole. Probably had the damn smirk on his face.

The thud of her footsteps above, barely audible, neared the door leading down to where I waited. I couldn't keep the smirk off my face as she entered the room, guitar and her favorite notebook in hand, a bag slung over her shoulder. Concern etched on her features. "Promise me we're safe, because it's getting wicked out there." Her cheeks were flushed, and the sundress she put back on after yoga in the foyer hugged body but gave her freedom to move at the same time.

"Promise." I gestured to the double doors she had entered through. "Those doors are reinforced. Think of it this way. Most people build a panic room in a place this big. You're in mine. The doors lock down, generator'll kick in, and the fridge is stocked enough for a few days, if need be."

"And," she said, setting everything down and reaching into the bag. "We have candles." Her smile lit up the room as she brandished two large jar candles. She lifted one, then the other. "Marshmallow Campfire, and S'mores."

"No lemon?"

Skylar shook her head, eyes wide as if I had somehow jinxed her. "Lemon is only for recording. Not demos, not writing sessions. Marshmallows are for writing."

"Duly noted."

Candles on the table and set up her laptop and notebooks, then laid out her favorite pens. I went to light a candle, but Skylar grabbed my arm before I could even flick the lighter. "No! What if the power goes out?"

"Generator, remember?"

She glared at me. "And your generator never fails? Googled it. It can happen. I'd rather not be trapped down here in the dark with you."

The way her chin lifted, her gold tinged eyes daring me to deny it? Fuck. But instead of kissing the anxiety over something that most likely wouldn't happen, I asked, "But if it went out now, we'd be in the dark. Fumbling for the lighter."

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled for it like she worried the lights would go out any second. "Point taken." Candle lit, she settled back, and placed the bag on the floor before settling onto the couch.

I picked up my guitar and jerked my head toward it, because the damn thing had more than just two candles in it. "Survival kit?" I smirked.

"Something like that. I made a stop by your office before I came downstairs."

I paused tuning, guitar pick in my mouth, fingers unmoving on the neck of my Taylor acoustic as images of Skylar sprinted through my brain. Moaning, using whatever toy I ordered her to, watching her fall apart, body quaking and trembling until she couldn't take anymore and begged me to use them on her.

Good thing my erect and fully aroused cock hid itself behind my guitar, because these fucking pants did nothing to disguise the fact that I was so fucking turned on I might explode. And from the look on her face, Skylar knew what was behind the Taylor.

"I think that hook should go here, and then we move this one to the reprise like this," Skylar said, hair swept over one shoulder as I leaned closer to her, the scent of her skin almost as distracting as the light in her eyes when the song started falling into place. The pieces and parts of the song from last night seamlessly melded together. I knew we created magic. She hummed the melody, working through the lyrics as I strummed the chords and went into the chorus.

I'd never seen anything more beautiful than Skylar when she sang her songs. Not the ones the label made her release on her first album, but the ones that spoke her truths and gave her voice an outlet.

"Yes!" she squealed, fist pumping in the air as she leaned back. "We need to lay that down before we forget. I mean," she added with a mischievous grin, "You are older than me and might forget."

I growled, but inside, she was right. Because all I could see was Skylar. And that had nothing to do with my age, and everything to do with how much I wanted her. Her laugh filled the air as I glared at her but set up the mic in front of her and turned on the mixing board. I had the digital set up on the iPad, but I still liked to mess with the levels on an actual piece of equipment and not just a tablet. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as I made sure the height worked for her, but she bottled off the couch and headed for the bar in the corner where I kept a few glasses and my favorite bourbon. There were a few other things under the bar top, but she went straight for two shot glasses and a bottle of Falling Leaves Bourbon. I busied myself with the set up as she poured and then handed me one. "Nerves?'

She shook her head. "Nope. To new beginnings." We toasted and downed them. Her eyes closed. "Jagger gave Ainsley and I a bottle after we did the demo for the song we wrote, even though the label vetoed him recording it. I might've liked it more than I admitted to him. He was so mad and tried to convince them to let him record it, but..." Her shoulders drooped.

"Their loss. Our gain. Ready?"

She nodded, and I adjusted my mic, since we wrote it as a duet.

Two takes.

That's all it took.

And then the power went out.