Spotlight famous book 2, p.14
Spotlight (Famous Book 2), page 14
Then he leans in and says something I haven’t had the privilege of contemplating since Kaylee was born. “You can do anything you want.”
Whenever Maggie’s home, she either stays with me or I put her up in an Airbnb close by, but she planned ahead this time and got herself a hotel room despite my protests.
“Kind of defeats the purpose of having a break if they’re both here with you,” Lyric mutters to me when I say it for maybe the hundredth time.
“I know, but …” I try to tuck my controlling side back in, but Maggie can’t afford something nice, and now I’m making excuses to keep them with me.
“Are you sure about this?” Maggie asks, sensing my hesitation.
“One hundred percent,” I lie. “Unless you’re not. You don’t have to—”
“I appreciate it. Honestly.” Maggie smiles warmly at me. “Maybe tomorrow when we get back, we can talk?” She turns to Lyric. “Are you able to watch Kaylee tomorrow?”
Lyric nods. “That’s generally in the job description.”
She laughs. “I’m going to go check on Kaylee to make sure she’s packing more than her stuffed animals.” As she steps past me, she pauses and speaks softly. “I like him.”
I agree with her but can’t voice it. I’m more focused on why she wants to talk.
Maybe I shouldn’t let Kaylee go.
As if reading my mind, Lyric steps forward and cocks his head at me. “This is a good thing.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
Maggie reappears with Kaylee. “Okay, we’re ready.”
I’m not, but I try not to show it.
I get to my knees and hold my arms out for Kaylee. “You have fun with Mommy, okay?”
She pouts. “You not coming, Daddy?”
Aww, sweet child. Yes, I will come with you!
“Not tonight, honey,” Lyric says for me.
She looks up at him. “You’re not coming either?”
Lyric shakes his head. “Nope. You get to have special time with your mom, who you haven’t seen for a really long time. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“Yeah, but then you don’t get to have fun with us!”
Maggie smirks. “I think Daddy and Lyric will have their own fun.”
Maybe that’s what we have to talk about. Clearly, she thinks something is going on between us.
Kaylee’s green eyes meet mine. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Lyric chuckles. “I’ll make sure he’s okay. Is that all right with you?”
“You’re on Daddy duty tonight.” She’s so serious about it, and it’s adorable.
Lyric mock salutes her. “I’ll babysit him for you.”
“Good work.”
We watch them leave, and as soon as the front door closes, Lyric clasps my shoulder. “Enjoy having the afternoon and evening to yourself.”
I realize he’s leaving and say the only thing I can think of in the moment. “You’re not going to babysit me? You promised my daughter.”
“Yes, and verbal contracts between adults and children are legally binding,” he says dryly. “It’s not like we pinkie promised, Ryder. Geez.”
Lyric might have a point.
“But …”
“But what?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with myself?”
He leans against the kitchen counter. “What do you want to do? You have the opportunity to do anything and go anywhere. Well, within reason. Flying to Paris for an hour or two wouldn’t really be worth it.”
I have to really think about it because I haven’t had this opportunity in nearly five years. Maggie’s never had her overnight before unless she’s been staying here and I’ve been with them.
Without Kaylee, all I have is music.
“You could go clubbing, to dinner, to—”
“I want to record you,” I blurt. “I want to do your demo.”
“Out of all the possibilities, that’s what you want to do? Maybe we should have a discussion on the important things in life.”
I step forward. “You still don’t get it, do you? You are important. Your voice is important. And I want to help get it out there.”
“Okay, I don’t think it’s even possible to say no to that.”
I smile. “Good.”
“But—”
“No, no buts.”
“I was going to say I wouldn’t mind going home to shower and get dressed in fresh clothes. I’m still in my stuff from yesterday.”
I eye him up and down—as if I haven’t already memorized every inch of his body in my mind. “You’re my size. Shower here and borrow some clothes.”
Lyric looks a little uncomfortable with that idea, but he agrees to it. “If you’re okay with that.”
“It’ll give us more time in the studio. You think you’re ready for a full recording session? Endless hours of singing the same thing over and over again until we get it perfect? Once you make it big, that will be your life.”
“I’m so ready.”
“I’ll go get you some clothes.” I would invite him upstairs to my room to pick out something for himself, but I don’t trust myself in the same room with Lyric and a bed. Hell, I don’t entirely trust us in the studio together. But there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. If we were to go out somewhere or do something in public, I run the risk of being recognized and stalked by paparazzi, and I’ve already hit my peopling limit for the day. Not only that, but I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Kaylee.
As it is, I know thoughts of her will be distracting, but I’ll be able to mostly block them out if I’m focused on something I’m passionate about.
And Lyric is definitely something I’m passionate about.
His demo, I mean. Of course. Just his demo.
I grab him a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, but then something in my shirt drawer catches my eye, and I can’t resist. I switch out the shirts and run back downstairs, only to find him tidying Kaylee’s playroom.
“I told you to take the day off. You’re not Lyric the nanny today. You’re my artist. And if any of my artists were cleaning my house, I’d be mortified.”
“I don’t mind. Honestly.”
“Here.” I throw him the clothes.
The glare he sends my way is expected. “I can’t record wearing this.”
“Aww, come on. It’s not like you’re going to be filmed. It’s important to be comfortable when you’re recording. It’s long, long, long hours.”
He holds up the offending shirt. It’s from the Eleven touring days, and it has a giant picture of my face with my name underneath it in neon font. “An Eleven shirt? Really? No. I’ll record shirtless if I have to.”
Yeah, that’s not a great idea. “I don’t know how many tracks we’ll lay down if you do that.”
Lyric’s glare doesn’t let up.
“For me?” I give him the same pout Kaylee does when she wants something.
“You get off on people wearing your face on their chest?”
“Okay, wow, way to make it creepy, dude.”
Lyric laughs. “I’m not the one making it creepy! It’s a shirt with your face on it. Like, a giant face.” He holds it up next to me. “It’s not even proportionate.”
“I’m offended you won’t wear it. Aren’t we friends? Best friends if I recall.”
“No, right now you’re my producer. How am I supposed to work under these conditions?”
“Okay, fine. Want me to go get you another shirt, diva?”
He looks contemplative. “The shirt is fine.” He sounds defeated, and I might be a little evil because I kind of love it.
“Great. You go shower while I get everything set up in the studio.”
He wanders off in the direction of the bathroom in the nanny’s quarters, grumbling something about not wanting to become famous because of a song he recorded while wearing a boy band shirt.
“Just think, it’s another perfect anecdote for late-night talk shows,” I call after him.
Lyric flips me the bird.
We’re already having fun. I can’t think of a better way to spend my day off.
CHAPTER 16
LYRIC
I can’t believe I’m wearing a Ryder shirt. Like, for real. What’s worse is it smells like him. That’s not helping me focus. Especially because that means he’s worn it. It doesn’t smell like detergent. It smells like Ryder—a mixture of lavender laundry soap and spicy cologne.
Wearing his scent and trying to concentrate on getting these first two songs for my demo recorded do not mix well.
Ryder keeps up the lights in the control room so I can watch him work as I sing, and while that was a good idea the first time we did this, I’m wondering if it’s making my lack of focus worse.
Ryder is patient with me. He tells me when to start again and offers suggestions to tweak the arrangement to best show off my voice and talent.
He’s professional.
And here I am wearing Eleven merch and wondering how self-indulgent he’d have to be to wear a shirt with his own face on it.
His warm voice comes through the intercom. “You okay? You need a break?”
We’ve only been at it a couple of hours. I can’t take a break yet. I want to get this original song done so we can move on to the second attempt of “Take Me to Church.”
“I’m good.”
“Are you sure? You seem distracted.” Ryder tries not to smile. “It’s the shirt, isn’t it?”
I throw up my hands. “Yes, it’s the damn shirt.”
“I’m that distracting? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“No.” Well, yes, but that’s not the only thing. “It smells like you, which means you’ve worn it, and I can’t help thinking about you wearing your own merch and how weird that is. I’m wondering if you need therapy.”
Ryder throws his head back and bursts out laughing, but I can’t hear it because he hasn’t hit the intercom button. His face is beautiful when he’s carefree.
I mean, he’s always beautiful, but there’s something about the relaxed version of him that’s so damn alluring.
“I have never worn that shirt in my life.” He’s still laughing as his voice comes through the speaker.
I narrow my eyes. “Then why does it smell like you?”
“Maybe it’s the sweatpants? Or maybe you’re having a stroke. Or maybe you’ve memorized what I smell like, and that might be creepier than you wearing my face.”
“Come in here if you don’t believe me. It smells like you.”
“All right then.”
Oh shit. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.
Ryder comes through the connecting door and stalks toward me, and I don’t think I’ve ever regretted taunting someone more.
Because as he steps up to me and leans in, dipping his head to smell his shirt at my shoulder, the urge to wrap my arms around him is almost overpowering.
“Hmm, it does smell a bit like my cologne.” Ryder smells me again, and fuck, my cock likes that more than it should. “Maybe a worn shirt of mine got put away with my clean clothes.”
“Or maybe you’re egotistical and like to wear your own shirt around the house. Maybe you jerk off in the mirror while looking at your face.”
He’s standing so close I can feel his breath on my skin. “That doesn’t sound right. I love my Eleven days but not that much.” Ryder pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Have to say, you look good in my shirt, though.” His gaze travels down. “More than my shirt, actually. Just my clothes in general.”
“I look good in anything.” My voice goes up at the end like I’m actually asking a question.
“Mmm. That’s the problem I’m having.” Ryder wraps his arm around my back and pulls me against him.
He can no doubt feel my erection digging into him.
Seriously, he hadn’t even touched me, and I was already hard.
Now I’m pushing against him, shamelessly moving my hips slowly and subtly. As if that’ll hide that I’m trying to grind up on him.
“I’m starting to think we can’t have a recording session without getting inappropriately close,” I say.
“It’s your fault.”
“For taunting you to come in here?”
Ryder’s focus travels down to my lips. “For being so fucking irresistible when you sing.”
He reaches for the headphones on my head and removes them for me. They drop to the ground, and Ryder doesn’t even flinch.
And then—
Oh, holy mother of … everything holy.
Ryder’s mouth comes down on mine for the type of sweet torture I’ve only ever fantasized about.
Ryder Kennedy is kissing me.
Pop sensation Ryder Kennedy has his lips on mine, his arms wrapped around me, and his tongue in my mouth.
My brain can’t process it.
My mind may not be on board, but my body is.
I’m not sure if he pulls me to him or if I take the lead, but his lips feel familiar. Like I’ve kissed him a million times over a hundred lifetimes.
My tongue meets his, and I swallow his moan.
We stand in the recording studio, nipping, kissing … devouring. We make out like teenagers, giving it our all like we’ll never get the chance to again.
Because if we think about it too hard, we’ll realize this really won’t happen again.
Ryder’s lips are as soft as they look, and his plump bottom lip teases the hell out of me.
His scruffy cheek against mine feels like heaven, and as his hands run down my back, he thrusts his hips, rubbing his cock alongside mine.
It’s sensory overload. It’s a dream come true.
A dream I never knew I had until I met him, but one I’ve had frequently since I started working for him.
“Shit.” I break away.
Ryder’s forehead scrunches. “What?”
“This is …”
He closes the small gap between us again. “Inevitable.”
“I-inev—”
“I never should’ve hired you.”
“Ouch.”
Ryder laughs. “You’re great with Kaylee. Perfect. But ever since you arrived, I’ve been fighting this.” His mouth is back on mine, and whatever strength I had to try to stop this no longer exists.
I pull him even closer, groping and groaning. We stumble and manage to knock over the one piece of furniture in here—a lonely stool.
Ryder turns us and backs me up against the padded soundproof wall.
All the while, I don’t stop my assault on his mouth, his tongue … his fucking pouty lips.
He presses against me, his cock dragging against mine in slow, torturous thrusts that only seem to increase in pressure as we both rock our hips.
It’s going to be over really soon if we don’t stop.
I grip his hips and gently separate our lower halves.
Ryder pulls his mouth away. “What now?”
“You feel too good.”
The sides of his sexy as sin lips quirk. “Why’s that a problem?”
“Because I’ll ruin a completely decent pair of your sweatpants.”
Ryder teases me by running his finger along the waistband. “I can fix that problem.”
I let out a string of harsh curses when he sinks to his knees.
My cock is so hard Ryder’s sweats are tented right in front of his face. He glances up at me with a mischievous grin before running his nose and mouth along the outline of my cock over the material.
I groan because I want more, then groan even harder when he pulls the sweatpants down my legs.
The anticipation of his mouth on my cock has a bead of precum slipping out of the tip. But he doesn’t put his mouth on me. Instead, he slowly stands.
He looks me in the eye as he leans in to kiss me softly.
My cock is needy and feeling neglected, but the next second, his fingers wrap around my hard length.
I jerk forward and almost lose it.
I have to grab onto him. Anywhere I can grip him. My hands grasp his shoulders while he pumps up and down. He jerks me slowly but firmly.
I gasp and break from his mouth but keep our foreheads together. Our breaths mix, and his grip on my cock tightens, making me weak in the knees.
“Fuck, you’re good at that.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Ryder murmurs.
“Oh. Right. The no-dating thing. Maybe I should …” I reach for him.
Together, we get his cock free, and then we’re back to making out and jerking each other off. It’s sloppy yet controlled at the same time. Ryder definitely knows what he’s doing, but there’s an urgency to it and a need to get to the finish line that makes it messier.
I want to argue a cum-stained shirt isn’t ideal either, but then again, the chance to say I came all over his face isn’t an opportunity I can pass up.
Plus, removing it will require me to stop touching him, and I can’t when his long, thick cock is pulsing in my hand and leaking for me.
Ryder breaks his mouth from mine despite my whine of protest, but he doesn’t go far. He stares down at us as we work each other over, his breaths fast and wispy.
“I need to …” He doesn’t finish his sentence.
I just nod. “Ditto.”
He tilts his hips, and our hands bump against each other. It takes a second to realize what he’s doing, and when I release his dick, he guides my hand to wrap around both of us.
Pressed against him, I throw my head back as he keeps his hand on top of mine, guiding me to jerk us both at the same time.
“So good,” he whispers.
“Mm” is all I can manage.
Ryder’s mouth lands on the junction between my neck and shoulder, and he sucks hard.
“Holy fuck.”
The hard love bite, the frantic way we’re getting each other off, it’s rough and consuming, needy yet intimate.
I stroke faster, and he sucks on my neck harder.
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” I tip over the edge, spilling into both our hands and God knows where else.
Ryder thrusts his hips forward harder. Once. Then twice.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when he shudders in my arms.
