Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell
Chapter 39
Angela Morales
Pushing open a door, Viktor guided me into his dressing room. “I have to give an encore performance, but will you wait for me?” His eyes pleaded, and he cupped my cheeks. “Please?”
Ugh. I don’t want to give in, but how can I not when he looks and touches me like this?
“I-I guess.” I stared into those brown pools of desire then lowered my gaze to his mouth. It really should be criminal for a man to have lips so pillowy. They moved closer, and I closed my eyes.
Like crushed velvet, his mouth brushed against mine with a feathery tingle then disappeared.
I…hadn’t been expecting such a chaste kiss. As a matter of fact, I’d been looking forward to another scorcher similar to the night he’d brought roses and chocolates.
He slid his hands to my neck and followed the curve of my muscles, the calluses on his fingers creating zips of electricity on my flesh. With a squeeze to my shoulders, he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if fighting some emotion or thought. “I’ll be back.” He lowered his arms, pivoted, and quietly slipped out the door.
It felt colder with him gone, and I rubbed my goose-pimpled flesh. Wait, what just happened? I’d wanted him to devour me, to make my soul sing, to fill that emptiness inside with his presence.
“Good grief.” I rubbed my temples and let out a low laugh. “I’m out of my mind for even thinking about hooking up with Viktor, yet here I am, in his territory, even after he stole Rusty and replaced him with something I never asked for then tricked me into showing up at this concert.” I wasn’t sure if I should’ve laughed with delight or screamed with irritation, but I had to give it to him—he didn’t back down from a challenge—and I admired his fighting spirit. I also loved his cranky attitude, his sinful stare, and his willingness to be open and vulnerable with me.
When he lowers his defenses, something inside of me responds and does the same.
I trailed a hand along the dressing table. After picking up and examining five different colored eye liners, I placed them in a holder, then rifled through foundations and other cosmetics. The thick kohl liner on his eyes was kind of hot.
Viktor Farrow had wormed his way into my heart weeks ago, and I’d tried to convince myself we were finished, but it had been a lie. With Viktor, we’d never be done. He and I coalesced in smaller and smaller circles, unable to fight one another’s gravity. Two atoms on a collision course and once we touched—both physically and emotionally—our hearts and souls fused together.
The thought excited and terrified me. At one time, I’d thought Jeff was my soulmate, but compared to Viktor, my ex was a pale, watery shadow fading against the God of Nu Rock’s blinding, sunny aura.
All because Terri booked him in our tiny radio station. The thought nearly made me laugh out loud as I remembered the utter contempt on Viktor’s face until he and I began our verbal sparring match.
Shit. Terri. Guess she’ll have to finish the livestream herself. I groaned because I knew I’d hear all about it tomorrow. Well, she wanted publicity, and she certainly got it tonight.
Spinning around, I checked out the rest of the room. A long couch sat against one wall, with a television in the corner and several different video game systems. On the opposite end, a small table held fresh fruit, wraps, chips, dips, and several other snacks. Sodas, water, and many types of alcohol graced the end.
Why would they put alcohol in here knowing Viktor’s been staying clean? Unless he wasn’t. No, I didn’t really believe he’d caved, did I?
After living with someone who’d swear he’d quit, then inevitably returned, it took a huge leap of faith for me to take Viktor at his word. How could I have a relationship with him if I couldn’t trust him?
I took a seat on the leather couch, the material squeaking as I adjusted myself. No matter what I thought Viktor and I might share, or how much I wanted to give in to him, would I always have that thought at the back of my head, wondering when the day would come when he’d lose the fight and succumb to his vices?
Trust. It all boils down to that one simple word.
Even in this closed room, a building crescendo of screams and heavy drumbeats distracted my thoughts, rumbling the walls and causing the mirror at the vanity to shake slightly.
All at once, the pounding stopped, but the screams rose higher. Guess he’s giving them a good show.
I pulled the cell from my purse and shot a quick message to Terri, letting her know where I was and not to wait for me, that I’d get an Uber after Viktor and I talked.
Terri: Even though I’m extremely pissed he stole your car and then you, I got some wicked footage and livestreamed most of it.
Me: You. Did. Not.
If she recorded him on her phone singing that dirty song to me…
Terri: Oh yeah. So did the entire audience.
I groaned and slapped my forehead. God, he’s a hurricane in my life. Finding a gif with a frowning face, I sent it, and she shot back an Ursula gif.
Me: Well, at least I’m getting a raise, there’s that, I guess.
As I stuffed my phone into my purse, it rang. Another unknown call. I’d sent an extra twenty-five bucks earlier today, so the credit card company probably hadn’t received the notification from the automated system yet.
I sent the call to voicemail, remembering I still hadn’t listened to several others. The phone buzzed again. “Seriously? It’s almost ten at night. Thought it was illegal to call so late.”
Tired of the vibrations, I switched it off, not ready to deal with snarky, pushy bill collectors.
The door creaked open. A young girl, about eighteen or nineteen, with short black hair, chewed bubble gum. A headset curved over the top of her head with a mic near her lips. “Hi.” Her voice, bubbly and high, made her sound younger than she probably was.
I gave her a small wave, unsure what else to do. “Uh, hey.”
“Viktor’s on his way. There was a bit of a snafu in the audience. Some guy started a fight in the mosh pit then tried to reach Viktor onstage and attack him.”
“What?” I shot to my feet, adrenaline flowing through my arteries, speeding my heartbeat and breathing. “Is he okay?”
A big, pink bubble formed from her mouth. Pop. “Yeah, he’s fine. Security didn’t let the idiot get close.” Her tongue swiped the deflated gum from her lips, and she chewed again. “They dragged him out and called the cops because he wouldn’t stop being an ass. Viktor wanted me to pop in and check on you, tell you why it’s taking so long. He’s on the way back, though.”
Or he wanted to make sure I didn’t run off. I couldn’t decide if I was amused or irritated.
“Glad he’s okay.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. It was probably just a normal day in the life of a rock star having drunk fans creating a ruckus.
“Do you need anything?” Her stare roamed the room, checking the food and drinks.
Several male voices bounced from the hallway, laughing and speaking in rapid sentences, their echoes projecting down the long corridor.
“No, I don’t think so.” I felt awkward waiting in his dressing room. Hope she doesn’t think I’m a booty call or something.
Her fingers gripped the doorhandle, and she twisted her head to peer to her side. “Oh,” she whispered, “here he comes.” When she turned toward me, her eyes shone. “God, you’re so lucky. Even if he’s a little old, I’d do him in a heartbeat.”
“W-what?” Jealousy warred with humor. She was just a kid, yet she, too, had fallen under his animalistic, crass charm. Yep, she thinks I’m a booty call. How mortifying. “I’m not going to do—”
Through the crack, his form appeared, and he nudged her out of the way. “Thanks, Margo. I’ll take it from here.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Farrow. And it’s Marsha, not Margo.” She giggled and retreated.
He strode in, damp hair plastered to his skull, cheeks full of color, lush lips curved in an arrogant smirk. Gorgeous and sexy.
I clasped my hands in front of me, fighting flutters of butterflies tumbling in my belly. This lifestyle—hanging out in dressing rooms, hearing about lunatic fans trying to attack a celebrity, and having assistants or whatever Margo was as chauffeurs—wasn’t my style. I preferred things calm and collected, not this chaos that followed Viktor Farrow.
He stopped his forward momentum after two steps and tilted his head, raking his gaze over my face. “What’s wrong, Angel?”
Licking my lips, I stalled, not sure how to put my feelings into words. “I don’t think I can—”
“Stop.” Without taking his sultry gaze from mine, the heel of one foot kicked the door closed then he reached backward and pushed the button on the knob to lock it.
“What are you doing?” I took a step backward, my calf contacting the soft leather of the couch, stopping my escape.
“Ensuring no interruptions. We’re going to have that face-to-face right now.” He moved fluidly as he stalked my way—graceful, predatory, and sure.
Trapped with nowhere to hide, I hunched my shoulders and wrapped my arms around my stomach. It wasn’t that I feared Viktor, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I was frightened of what he wanted to say…what he wanted me to give.
He gripped my upper arms and pulled me close, his hot breath mixing with mine. “Before you say or think anything else, let me show you what has kept me grounded all this time.” With both hands clamped on my arms, he freed one palm and dug in his front pocket.
So, this—whatever it is—must be the thing he said he treasures most. I craned my neck with curiosity, willing to give him this moment.
Keeping his fingers tight around the object, he slid his other hand down my arm, circled my wrist, then turned my palm upward. “Here.”
Reflexively, I opened my fist, and he dropped a bronze coin in my hand. It was still warm from being next to his skin. What is this? Frowning, I flipped it over. I’d never seen anything like it. “I don’t understand.”
There was something written on the back. I traced its surface with my fingertips.
“After one year of being clean and sober, that’s what they give out at al-anon meetings.” His face, serious yet tinged with a bit of uncertainty, watched me without blinking, as if trying to guess what I was thinking.
I rubbed its surface again and read the back. To thine own self be true. “Wow. I didn’t know you went to AA meetings.”
“No one does. That’s the perk of it being anonymous.” He clutched my hand and curled his fingers around mine, the edges of the metal flush against my skin. “I know it shouldn’t matter, especially since rehab became a revolving door, but…” A shoulder lifted and he grimaced.
“This is wonderful.” How many times had I begged Jeff to do this, just once, to at least give it a chance? Too many.
His jaw clenched. “It’s demoralizing having the world know my struggles. Going to an in-person session or meeting online grounds me. It’s a reminder that my addictions aren’t just a celebrity thing. There are everyday people who struggle with it their entire lives, and I’m not so different. Every time I feel the call of that old life, that old nemesis, that old seduction, this coin is my reminder that I can—and have—conquered the demon one day at a time. It gives me strength.”
“I’m glad, but I still don’t understand.” I was ecstatic he attended meetings. To me, it showed a maturity level Jeff had never attained. Every time I’d even suggested he might be an alcoholic, he’d ranted and raved until I’d finally stopped bringing it up altogether.
“The point is I want you to know I’m committed to abstinence. I do not want to go back to that life. Even before I met you, I decided to fight.” He cupped my cheeks. His thumbs stroked each corner of my mouth with his gaze lowering to my lips. “I want you to know that if you give me that chance, you will not regret it.”
Sincerity shone in his eyes, and I hesitated. This is way more than Jeff ever did. The weight of the coin in my hand was a scale, but I couldn’t decide which way it was tipping—toward a happy life with Viktor, or toward more misery.
“But—”
“Shh.” He lowered his face to mine and claimed my mouth. Thoroughly and possessively.
I almost dropped the coin, but clenched it tighter and leaned into him, relishing his firm frame next to mine. His distinctively masculine scent—sweat and leather—wrapped around me, sending flashes of heat through my veins to my lower belly.
Our mouths moved together urgently, and I stopped overthinking what he’d said. Instead, I submitted, curving my softness into his hardness.
He let go of my face and scooped his palms under my butt lifting me to curl my legs around his waist. “Fuck, I missed this, Angel.” Panting, he twisted toward the wall near the door, where there wasn’t any furniture blocking the way, and pinned me between the sheetrock and his body, dipping his tongue into my mouth again.
A soft moan escaped my throat. He tasted like sweaty salt and fresh mint. Delicious.
Dragging his lips from mine, he scraped his teeth down my neck, his short whiskers creating spikes of pleasure along the way, igniting my blood and heating my skin.
Propped against the wall, my movement was limited, but I managed to dig my fingers into his sweat-soaked hair and pulled him closer, needing more.
Against my skin, his lips moved, as if curving in a smile. “Do I dare think I’ve got your permission to go lower?”
“Yes,” I murmured, already panting at the thought of his tongue and mouth on my breasts.
With a grunt, he leaned back enough to pull off my top, throwing it onto the sofa.
With only my black, lacy bra impeding his goal, he stilled, those tan eyes turning darker as they roved my bare skin as if memorizing everything he saw.
“Are you okay with taking this to the end?” Those irises met mine, and his face tightened. “If you tell me to stop at any moment, I will—no questions asked.”
Something deep inside of me cracked open. He’s making sure I know I’m in control, that he would never abuse me like Jeff. The feeling that overcame me was hard to describe. It was as if I’d lived all my life in a dark closet, wishing just one person would open the door and see me, the real me, yet they never did.
But Viktor? Oh, he saw me. Every part of me—both inside and out. Somehow, he knew me as well, maybe better, than myself. A tear trickled from the corner of my eye.
“No, Love, no.” He swiped it away with a thumb. “Goddamn it. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I only wanted—”
“Yes.” I smiled through my tears. “Yes, I want to take this to the end. Remind me what it feels like to be treasured, Viktor.” I stroked a finger down his chest, gripped his tie, and yanked him closer. “Give me a second chance.”
With a growl, he whipped around and laid me on the couch then slid a hand to the back of my bra, unclasped the catch, and flung it away.
His mouth worshipped my body, and afterward, in that dressing room with its Green Day posters, neon beer signs, platinum record replicas, and quirky furniture, he became the disciple, and I became the goddess.