Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He locks eyes with me as if he can sense me watching him.
“You’re amazing,” I say.
“You are,” he replies. “You made me sound good.”
Oh shit, did I just move closer? “A good producer doesn’t take over. They amplify what’s already there.”
His eyes are so expressive, holding gratitude and a humbleness that the vultures in this industry would take advantage of if Lyric didn’t have the inner strength he does.
“I see you for who you’re trying to be, and I admire it. We need to get record labels to see you the way I do.”
Well, maybe not the exact same way.
Wait, did he just move closer? “Why?”
I’m confused. “Why what?”
Oh, Lyric, please don’t lick your bottom lip. It’s too hard not to—yup, there I go, mirroring his action.
“Why do you see me differently?” he whispers.
The song drowns out, fading into nothing, and all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I don’t think anyone has made me this nervous and full of want at the same time. No one, in all my years as a closeted artist, has ever been so wrong yet so irresistible.
This isn’t a weak moment like I experienced with Cash; it’s fundamentally deeper.
We may not agree on some things, or a lot of things, actually, but there’s no denying I love the way Lyric is always honest with me. He’s not afraid to give me his opinion, and he doesn’t tiptoe around me just because I’m Ryder Kennedy.
My whole recording career was about that, and even now, while I’m producing, people tell me they trust me and my judgment because of who I am and what I’ve accomplished.
Lyric doesn’t buy into that shit.
He’s unapologetically him, and it’s the biggest turn-on I’ve ever experienced.
I don’t know which of us moves first, but the next thing I know, we’re leaning into each other, so close I can feel his breath on my skin.
“Ryder? You haven’t answered me.”
I don’t think I can. “We should probably, uh, do another take.”
Obvious diversion is obvious.
“We should,” he croaks.
We don’t.
Lyric’s long guitar-playing fingers sneak around the back of my head and tangle in my hair.
I want this to happen for reasons I’m not ready to explore, but I don’t think I have a choice. My body is making this decision for me, and it’s screaming at me to let it happen.
Screw consequences.
The voice of said consequences reaches out from the depths of my soul. “Daddy!”
Lyric freezes, his lips not quite on mine, and it takes a second to realize it’s not a voice inside my head at all but my real-life daughter, who I seemed to have momentarily forgotten existed while Lyric’s mouth was so close.
“Daddy!” Kaylee’s voice comes from the baby monitor.
“Fuck,” I grumble.
Lyric pulls away, and I stand. His eyes go straight to where my hard-on is tenting my jeans, and as much as I’d like to explain, I can’t right now.
And explain what, exactly? That I’ve been thinking about kissing him since the day I met him, and now I’m regretting offering to help him because I don’t know how to keep my hands off him?
“I’ll be right back,” I croak.
I rush through the house to Kaylee’s bedroom, giving little thought to the man I just left and focusing all my energy on getting my dick to deflate.
Kaylee’s in tears when I open her door and get to her side.
I kneel beside her. “Bub, what’s wrong?”
“There were explosions.”
I pause. “Explosions?” Please don’t say poo explosions. Please don’t say poo explosions. I glance down and let out a relieved breath when I don’t see any evidence of an accident.
The joys of parenting.
“Mommy … Mommy’s on fire.”
I climb into bed next to her, hugging her so tightly I fear I might be suffocating her. “It’s okay. You were having a bad dream. It’s okay.”
She sobs on my shoulder while gasping between words. “Can … we … call … Mommy?”
I pat her hair and soothe her with shushing noises. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Hopefully, when you’ve forgotten about this.
“Try to sleep now,” I whisper.
It takes a bit of consoling and rocking, but after about fifteen minutes, she drifts off.
I try not to let my emotions show when it comes to Maggie. Especially in front of Kaylee.
I respect the hell out of Kaylee’s mother, but it’s hard to explain to Kaylee why she’s gone. The times Maggie has been around have been short and confusing for Kaylee. And clearly, my explanations have frightened the poor girl into thinking her mommy is going to explode.
I’m going to have to make some calls in the morning and find out where the fuck Maggie is.
But first, I need to deal with Lyric.
Oh, shit. Lyric.
Now that I’ve had a chance to cool off, I’m dreading dragging my ass back to the studio because I know I’m going to have to tell him it was a mistake.