Maya Banks - Sweet Possession

“You just try it, Mr. Murphy,” she bit out.

Connor’s hand smoothed over her shoulder and he gave her a warning squeeze. “Enough, Lyric.”

To her irritation, she quieted and went still. Like a freaking dog coming to heel. What the hell ever.

“You keep him away from me,” Lyric said to Connor.

“Behave and I’ll gladly oblige,” Kane offered smoothly.

Again Connor’s hand tightened on her shoulder, a silent warning that she resented. Apparently she was expected to be on her best behavior and everyone else got to treat her like an idiot.

She hated how her life kept spiraling more out of control. She hated not being in control.

She turned to Connor and had to resist walking into his arms. “Are we done here?”

Connor nodded.

“I’d like to get something to eat then.”

Connor let his hand slide from her shoulder. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I’m sure we can rummage up something. Phillip made sure the house was completely stocked before we moved in.”

“I have some calls to make tomorrow,” Lyric said as she opened the fridge to take stock. She frowned as she glanced over the array of deli meats, cheeses, fruits and fresh vegetables.

What she really wanted was a cupcake.

“I’ve put stuff off for too long. While this is a semivacation, I still have a ton of stuff to do before my show at the rodeo. I’m supposed to be writing songs, which I haven’t even begun thinking of. How am I supposed to be creative when my life has been turned upside down?”

Connor slid his hands over her shoulders and massaged as she stood staring into the fridge. “Relax, Lyric. Right now your focus is on staying safe. It’s only two weeks. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

She sighed and shut the refrigerator. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I know I probably don’t show it, but I really do.”

His lips quirked up into a grin. “It’s part of your charm.”

She went to the pantry and shoved aside boxes and cans.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” he asked. “What are you hungry for? I’m not great in the kitchen, but I can manage until the chef gets here tomorrow.”

She turned around, arching her eyebrow. “Chef?”

“Yeah, Phillip hired someone to cook for you while you’re here. I assumed this was something you were used to. Don’t all rock stars get the royal treatment?”

She searched his tone and demeanor for sarcasm, but he didn’t have a hint of snottiness in the question. Just light teasing.

“I have someone who takes care of that on the road. I hate eating out all the time. I already told you I have to watch what I eat or I gain weight too easily. But usually when I go off tour, I’m on my own. Again, which is why I gain weight when I’m not on the road.”

“Well, you get a chef tomorrow afternoon. Supposed to be here before lunch. He wants to meet with you so he can plan a menu.”

“Cupcakes. I just want cupcakes.”

Connor laughed. “You can have all the cupcakes you want.”

“No, I can’t,” she said mournfully.

Connor’s laugh died and his expression grew serious. His eyes darkened and he gazed intently at her. “You’re beautiful just as you are, Lyric.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, and to her horror, she felt the sting of tears. Hell. The man was lethal to her composure. She swung back around and grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese.

“This okay?” she blurted as she shoved the box toward him.

“Love mac and cheese,” he said.

Another thought occurred and she frowned. “We don’t have to feed Kane and his crew, do we? Because if I have to eat with that man, I’m not going to keep an appetite.”

Connor shook his head. “He’s not that bad, Lyric. He’s just doing his job. Believe me, you want the biggest, baddest son of a bitch on your side.”

“Yeah, as long as he doesn’t get pissed at me and throw me to the bad guy,” Lyric muttered.

Connor chuckled. “Not going to happen, and no, he’s not eating with us. They have kitchen privileges, but I got the impression they like to keep to themselves and a low profile. I doubt you’ll see much of them except when you go somewhere.”

“Suits me just fine.”

Connor took the box and put a pot of water on the stove to boil while Lyric took a seat at the bar. After pouring the noodles into the pot, Connor turned and leaned against the counter.

“Tell me something, Lyric. Do you trust anyone at all?”

She went still, caught completely off guard by the question. It was one she didn’t even know how to answer. Well, she knew how to answer, but not without it making her sound like a paranoid bitch.

Deciding to make it short and to the point, she simply said, “No.”

Then she held up a hand. “If you’re going to start in again on how sad and pathetic that is, save it. I’m not in the mood to be picked apart and analyzed. I already have a bad enough headache.”

Connor frowned. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of pills and returned a few moments later with two in his hand. After handing them to her, he went to the fridge and returned with a bottle of water.

“Take them,” he said softly. “There’s no reason for you to suffer.”

She threw the pills to the back of her throat and then chased them down with the water. Connor returned to the stove to watch over the mac and cheese, and Lyric sat there wondering how the hell she was going to get through the next two weeks with her sanity intact.

“Can we have company here?” she asked suddenly.

He glanced sideways at her. “What kind of company?”

“I thought maybe Faith, Serena, Julie and Angelina could come for lunch or dinner, or just to visit.”

She needed the company. She would go nuts in this big house alone or, worse, just her and Connor. She alternated between wanting to jump his bones and being freaked-out that he was close to her. It was exhausting being such a basket case.

Maybe Phillip was right. Maybe she was on the verge of a breakdown. Maybe when all this crap with the stalker was resolved, she’d take a long vacation somewhere.

Connor frowned. “I don’t know, Lyric. I hesitate to involve them any more than we have to. Their husbands won’t be thrilled with them going where there’s potential danger.”

Lyric sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Some freak is after me and I’m a toxic influence. They’re nice girls and I’d hate for me to rub off on them.”

Connor stalked over and planted his hands on the bar in front of her. He looked . . . pissed.

“Do you think they’re better than you? Do you think I think they’re better than you?”

She stared up at him for a long moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, you thought it not so long ago. You weren’t so gung ho to expose me to your friends.”

“I was wrong,” Connor said quietly.

That shut her up.

“They loved you. You were great with them. I was an asshole. We’ve covered that. Those girls mean a lot to me. Yeah, in the beginning I was worried that there would be friction. I don’t want them over here, but that has nothing to do with you. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Lyric smiled. “You know what, Connor Malone?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

She sat back with a satisfied grin and crossed her arms over her chest. “You like me. You don’t want to. You didn’t want to. But you like me.”

He leaned over, snaked his hand behind her nape and all but hauled her over the table as his lips melted over hers. Hot and so breathless she grew light-headed.

Man, but he could kiss.

She braced her palms on the countertop and leaned farther, hungry—so hungry—for him.

His tongue traced the line of her mouth and then delved inward. She sucked at the tip, wanting more. She licked at him, meeting his tongue in a flirty duel that had him sucking back.

She nipped at his lip, first his bottom and then the top. Oh, but she wanted to devour him.

A hissing sound from the stove had him pulling away and he glanced to where the water boiled over the rim of the pot. But before he went to rescue the macaroni, he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip and his eyes glittered with intense need.

“I think you’re a very observant woman,” he murmured.

Connor stood in the doorway of the room Lyric had commandeered as her studio. Her guitar and sound equipment had been delivered and set up and she’d been sequestered in solitude all morning long.

She had her guitar cradled against her chest and she strummed a series of chords as her haunting voice echoed through the room and slid over his skin like silk.

It was a far cry from the noisy, raucous show she’d put on when he’d seen her in concert. He’d be hard-pressed to even believe they were the same woman if he didn’t know for sure they were.

She slapped her hand over the strings, silencing the guitar, and made a sound of frustration. Then she began again and rearranged some of the words.

If you only knew

If you could only see

If you could only come inside

And see the heart of me

She paused for a moment and then looked up and saw him standing in the door. Her hand fell away and she looked discomfited by his presence.

“It’s beautiful. Is it a new song you’re working on?”

She set aside her guitar and rubbed her hands down her pants. “Yeah. Something a little different. I’m going for a new sound for the next album. I haven’t run the songs by my label yet, so I’m not sure they’ll go for it.”