velvet rugs that lead to just stones.” With every fiber of intensity, I channeled the heat from my core to my voice. My jeans were tight from my excitement. I needed Lola's reactions. I needed them so bad it made my molars throb. “Sweet love, last love, you'll burn for me...”
There; the twang of failure. Her misstep sang at my heart, soared through me like a bird with a promise. No one saw it, but I trembled with need.
Was I so fucked up that I'd find such joy in touching her the only way I could?
Caressing her with my song until she shattered?
I am that sick, yes. I really am. Clutching the mic, I let the music fade on the unfinished song. Watching Lola, my forehead was smooth. Everything inside of me, the hidden pieces, were slithering in my dark lust.
Calmly I said, “This is why I told Brenda we needed all the time we had.” Why I need every damn second with you I can get, Lola Cooper.
“Sorry,” she whispered, fingers running nervously through her hair. Over and over she toyed with the long strands. It did little to subdue their waves. “Can we try again?”
My eyebrows made a tight fist. “You sure it won't be wasting everyone's time?”
“Drezden!” Porter snapped. “Fuck, man. Just chill out, you know she can do it.”
“I don't know shit.” That's a lie. She can do it when I'm not trying to sing right into her cells. I'm making her fumble intentionally. Fuck fuck fuck, I'm so hard over this. Ducking down, I grabbed a new water bottle, secretly adjusting my erection. “Again, let's go again.”
I could keep doing this forever.
Any question about my promise last night fled. I'd told myself I'd make Lola mine, that I'd do whatever it took to claim her. If I had to start with her skill, with controlling how she performed, then I would. I was a monster.
And I didn't care.
The next song was Black Grit. Lola knew this one well. She held up smoothly as I sang. Once, she even managed to look me in the eye without dropping a note.
She had no idea I'd figured her out.
I wished I could see into her head.
Swelling with energy, I belted out the wild chorus to the song. It could bring the house down on stage, I'd sung it for crowds so big you'd get lost for days. Now I aimed that surge at one single girl. Lola had no chance.
If it weren't for the strap around her neck, she would have dropped her guitar entirely.
The rest of the band voiced their frustration. Inside, I cheered with rapture.
“Shit,” Colt sighed. Holding a water bottle to his forehead, he squinted across at me. “Look, at this rate, I've got to say... maybe we shouldn't have kicked Johnny out.”
My stomach coiled like a cobra. A twinge of pain slid through my neck; I'd twisted that fast to look from my drummer, to Lola. Holy shit, what am I doing?
The clarity was colder than the deep ocean; I was sabotaging my own band. But I need her, and this is the only way I can reach inside of her in a way no one else has a right to, or could even dream to.
But was it worth it?
Warring with the rancid chunk of me that wanted to affect Lola, I gazed at Porter and Colt. These two had stood by me for years. They knew me at my best and at my worst. Well, not entirely my worst.
It was Lola that was learning what that really meant.
If I keep this up, we all lose. Observing the dark haired girl, I licked my lower lip. I knew what I had to do. “I made the right choice. She can do it.” Lola sat up, gawking at my compliment. “One more time. Play it again.”
That round, I reined myself in. I didn't try to make her flounder. It took everything in me to control my need to brush that part of her brain... but I did it. With the last of the chords capering around the room, I looked over my band.
Their relief, their excitement, was contagious.
“See?” I said, gracing Lola with a subtle smile. “I knew she could do it.”
I need her to be able to do it.
And I need to affect her.
Fuck, how could I have both?
Rolling his eyes, Porter plucked his bass. “Yeah yeah, you're clairvoyant. Let's do another one.”
As a solid unit, we played. Four and a Half Headstones came