The interior hall was deserted, the entire place completely quiet as I stood in front of two big metal doors. My heart raced, alive with this thrill that had followed me through the last four days.

I could have sworn when Zee had abruptly stood from the table that day at the café that it was the end. That whatever obstacles standing between us had become too much for him. That maybe I’d pushed him too far.

But I’d never been the type of person to tiptoe. Had never been one to keep my tongue tamed when I felt I had something important that needed to be said. And offering all those truths to him had felt important.

Vital.

Sucking in a steeling breath, I rapped my fist against one side of the door. That nervous energy magnified when I heard movement on the other side, thrummed and sped when the door unlatched and one side opened to reveal the man standing there.

The man who had to be the most intriguing I’d ever met.

Carved in mystery and sculpted in secrecy.

“Alexis.” His voice grazed across my skin, and his gaze made its own electrifying path, sweeping me from head to toe.

A shiver rolled through me when I did the same, taking in the man dressed in a pair of soft worn jeans and an even softer tee.

I had this foreign urge to reach out and press my hands against him, to feel the strength I saw bristling beneath the fabric.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He stepped back and widened the door. “I’m really glad you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?”

His head tipped and he scratched at his neck. One side of his mouth arched into an affected grin. “No. I didn’t really think that. I just thought by now you might’ve come to your senses.”

“And why on earth would I go and do something like that?” I almost teased, though I realized I was clutching my big bag tight to my chest as if it might act as a shield. As protection against what this boy was gaining the power to do to me.

Which seemed insane because I was the girl who was never afraid.

A low chuckle rippled through the air, and he eyed me with the slightest grin. “The girl who’ll give up anything to save the world but won’t stop long enough to save herself.”

I could almost hear the warning behind it, but I chose to ignore it and stepped into his loft.

“Wow.”

Articulate, I knew.

But I didn’t think there was another word sufficient to describe his home.

“You like it?” His voice hit me from behind. “Ash’s wife…Willow. She helped me decorate it. Helped me make it feel like home.”

“It’s incredible.”

Both luxurious and warm, the loft was one massive, open space. The floor was an expanse of dark gray hardwood and the ceilings two stories above remained open, the ductwork and metal framing left exposed.

Four concrete support columns stretched between the bottom floor and the ceiling. Leather couches and plush lounge chairs were set up in the middle, all mixed up with restored, rustic antique tables and decorations.

My gaze wandered to the far right where a set of stairs led to a bedroom in an upstairs loft that jutted out over the custom kitchen below. It was enclosed only by metal railings, and a huge bed sat in full view, overlooking the living area below.

But the two-story wall of windows on the left was what completely captured my attention. I wandered toward it, drawn to the undoubtedly million-dollar view of the sprawling city beyond.

The sun was just beginning to set, sagging low on the horizon, sending a scatter of twinkling glitter across the buildings and cars below.

My fingers brushed the glass, struck by the beauty, almost floored by it when I glanced over at Zee standing in the middle of the room. He was staring at me. As if I might be a hallucination in his living room.

“Look at you, my little drummer boy, living like a king.” I forced the tease, though it cracked beneath the effort. I wondered how it was possible I thought I could so easily claim him as my own.

His head shook. “Hardly.”

I studied every movement on his face, the words almost a question. “You’re the drummer for one of the biggest bands in the world.” I lifted my arms out to my sides. “You have this amazing place. And then you offer to do this for me? To give me something I’ve wanted for so long? It feels backward. I should be the one doing something for you.”

My voice grew small. “But what do you offer the boy who has everything?”

“None of that means anything when I don’t have anyone to share it with. And you being here?” He paused, and my heart clenched. Then he dropped his face toward the floor as if he didn’t want me to find what would be written in his expression. Desperate to hide the things so visible in his eyes.

Lifting his head, he looked back at me, throat heavy when he swallowed. “You being here for a day is more than enough. Sometimes it gets old, living in the shadows. Somehow they’re not quite so dark when you’re around.”

“Is that what you feel? Like you’re invisible?” That connection I didn’t understand flamed within my chest. Building and intensifying. “Because you’re the only thing I see.”

He flinched. “That’s the problem with all of this.”

“This?”

“The fact I can’t stay away from you when I know goddamned well that is exactly what I need to do. I just…”

He rubbed a knuckle across his pursed lips. “I can’t fucking stand the thought of that piece of shit out there, Alexis. That he’s still on the street. A danger to you. I need you here…with me…until I know that threat is eliminated.”

Emotion gathered fast. “So…I’m here because you want to protect me?”

I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or overjoyed.

His voice turned gruff. “You’re here because this is where I want you. Fact I can give you something you want so badly on top of it? Let’s call that the cherry.”

His confession took possession of the air. Desire throbbed, crackling between us and throbbing between my thighs.

I was in so much trouble.

Blinking, I tried to bring us back to common ground. “So…” I said, looking around and forcing a smile. “How do we do this? I’m actually kind of nervous.”

It was the truth. I’d wanted to play for as long as I could remember.

He took a step forward, as if he were stepping out of that thick knot of tension that kept him rooted to the spot. His tone shifted, turning so sexy it sent another shot of attraction tumbling through me. “What are you nervous about?”

My teeth caught my bottom lip, and I bit down, trying to fight the flush I could feel climbing to my cheeks.

“How could I not be? I haven’t a single clue what I’m doing, and you, this rock star…” The last of my words changed course, veering into something incredulous. “You want to teach me how to play. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that’s a little bit intimidating.”

He came closer. So close I caught the faint murmurings of cedar and spice. The scent radiating from this beautiful boy was distinctly man.

Overwhelming.

I inhaled a shaky breath, his presence rippling through me when he took another step in my direction. He was so close I could reach out and fall right in.

His voice turned hoarse. “Don’t ever want you to feel intimidated by me.”

Too late.

I forced myself to look at him where he towered over me.

“Okay.”

He edged back a fraction, angling his head away as he muttered quietly, “I’m the one who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

I got the impression that statement had nothing to do with music.

“Come on,” he said. His big hand settled back to that spot at the small of my back. The second he touched me, my breaths became shallow.

He led me around the living area to the far wall where a baby grand piano was situated between the long island bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of the living space and the bank of windows.

I couldn’t stop from reaching out and running my fingertips across the gleaming wood. The instrument wasn’t the normal glossy black. Instead, it was a deep red. Mahogany dipped in chocolate.

Zee released a shuddered breath, and my attention darted to his face.

Panic and fear.

“What’s the matter?” I whispered.

He roughed an agitated hand through his hair. “It’s just…been a long time.”

A frown pulled at my brow. “You don’t…play?”

His smile was pained. “Not in a lot of years.”

I blinked at him, trying to see through the veils and secrets and mystery. I settled on the obvious. “But you miss it.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

I turned back to face the piano. “And still, you brought me here.”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

How was it possible to make sense of this conflicted man? I could feel it, his spirit being cut in two, as if he were desperate for one thing and terrified to claim it.

And again, he was taking a leap for me.

He cleared his throat, breaking up the intensity. “So…have you ever taken any sort of lessons before?”

“Fourth grade music. Mrs. Lindstrom. I could play a mean recorder.” I smiled at him, wishing it might hold the power to erase whatever was tormenting him.

He chuckled. “Impressive.”

“I thought so.”

“She teach you how to read music?”

I cringed. “A little, but I honestly don’t remember much about it.”

He nodded. “That’s okay. If you know how to read, you can learn how to read music. It’s like learning another language. It just takes time and commitment.”

Time and commitment.

I was all too willing to give it if it meant I got to spend more time with him.

“That sounds…difficult.”

Movement twitched that gorgeous mouth almost into a grin. “And here I thought you were up for the challenge.”

“I am…I just…I don’t want to disappoint you.”

A sound of frustration jutted from his nose. “Don’t think that’s a possibility, Alexis.”

He sighed again before he reached down and pulled out the stool. “Sit,” he said, and I complied. He rested his hands on my shoulders. A shiver raced down my spine.

What was he doing to me?

“I’m going to give you some things to study at home before I see you next time. But for today, the thing I want you to take away is music is all about feeling. Yes, there are techniques and rules, and you’re going to learn all of those. But music lives above them. Beyond them. Despite them.”

His breaths were all around me, his presence eclipsing me from behind.

Energy lapped and pulsed, his heart erratic where it pounded at my back. He leaned in, arms caging, fingers poised at the keys. His muscles twitched and bowed, and I swore I could see the ink imprinted on his skin begging to play.

The shiver of that bleeding star.

“Lay your hands over mine.”

My breath was a rasp when I did. Everything came alive, zapping and sparking in the air.

I could feel his sharp inhale, the way his big body trembled where he stood behind me, the quake of his hands as he played a single chord.

A gush of air rushed from his mouth as soon as he did, as if he were staggered by the sound echoing against the walls.

I felt it the moment he gave, the enormity strike in the room when he began to play.

Talented fingers flew across the keys, taking mine with them.

They spun a web of beauty.

A maze of sorrow.

I shuddered, wanting to beg him to sing the lyrics. To show me it all. What lived in his mind and dwelled in his spirit.

His voice grated in my ear. “Do you feel it, Alexis? It’s about tapping into the emotion. The pain. The joy. The love. The lust.” Those last words were rough, spinning through my senses. Heat pounded through my body.

I moved with him.

With the feeling.

With the ebb and flow of his body.

His fingers flew. The song growing in intensity. Something magical.

“Do you feel it?” The words were a pant, as if he were captured. Removed. Lost in a place that, for a time, only belonged to me and to him.

“It’s alive. A light shining somewhere in space, just waiting for us to harness it. To capture it. To give it a voice and life. Tell me you feel it.”

“Yes.” It left me on a needy rasp.

Because I could.

I could feel it.

I could feel the intensity. I could feel the beauty. I could feel his talent.

A tremble of desire vibrated through my being, and I could feel his erection pushing into my back.

Maybe it was only that, the lust that bled from the song.

A song that was somehow both desperate and bittersweet.

Foreign and somehow known.

But I wanted to get closer. Turn and find what would be on his face. The passion and need.

“Does it always feel like this? Every time you play? Every time you’re on a stage?”

The song slowed, his heart still a thunder, his breaths choppy and short. He hesitated before he finally said, “Only here…when I’m in front of a piano.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I angled around the side of him so I could see his face.

It dizzied my senses that were already overwhelmed. “Then why the drums?”

Those brown eyes raged in a full-blown war. As if he were trapped in a vacant space between the power of that song and the shackles of his reality. “Because I owe my life to my brother.”

At his admission, a breath parted my lips. I knew he was offering me a veiled part of himself. A glimpse into that place that too often went dim. Part of his truth.

Bewildered, I searched his face and his expression and those hypnotic eyes. My mind raced with all the questions that seemed silenced on my tongue.

Warily, he reached out, his hand splayed wide. He cupped the entire side of my face.

I trembled, couldn’t breathe.

“Lex.” It was a murmur that twisted my belly into a thousand intricate knots, while every other part of me came undone.

Completely at his mercy.

I swore I could see it, the desire that crackled in the atmosphere.

A shrill ring sliced through the intensity.

Zee jerked back as if he’d been burned. I blinked, fighting the flash of rejection that welled too fast and stung my eyes.

How did he manage to make me question things I’d never questioned before? I’d never been the kind of girl to doubt my value or merit, yet there I sat with my head spinning.

I had no clue where I stood, if I was falling, and if I was, where I was going to land.

Because I found the only thing I wanted with him was to start.

And every word out of Zee’s mouth pointed at the temporary.

He raked a hand down his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” I pressed, digging deeper, desperate for something. Desperate for him to let me into the place I could feel him steadily taking me to, whether he wanted me there or not.

The words left his mouth like a dirty confession. “I’m sorry I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

My voice was the softest plea. “What if I don’t want you to?”

Bitterness curved his mouth, words tight with regret. “And what if I don’t have anything good to give you?”

“Everyone has something to offer, Zee. Everyone. Living is a choice. We decide how we wake up each morning and face the day. Either we’re led by hope or ruled by fear. And I won’t let circumstances define me. Maybe I’m a fool, because I will stand or I will fall, but I will never, ever allow fear to clip my wings.”

I glanced back at the piano, my spirit still dancing with the magnitude of his song that had been held back for too long, with the stark, blinding reality that for some reason this man had stopped living for himself.

I turned back to look up at him. “Maybe you’ve just forgotten how to fly.”

Pain lashed across his face. “No man is free if he’s already condemned.”

His words struck me like sorrow, and I wanted to reach out. Hold him. Touch him. Beg him to touch me.

His phone rang again. Cursing under his breath, he glanced at it, gripping it so tight I thought he would crush it in his hand. “I’m sorry. I need to return this.”

Disappointment slowed my nod. “I guess that’s my cue, then.”

Feeling like I’d run a marathon, dragged and pushed and pulled, I stood from the piano, reached down, and grabbed my bag. Slinging it over my shoulder, I headed for the door.

“Shit,” he muttered quietly from behind me before his heavy footsteps were suddenly moving across the floor. “Fuck, Alexis, don’t go.”

I sped up, that nonexistent self-preservation finally kicking in.

He snatched me by the wrist and tugged me around, forcing me to face him. His expression a map of conflict and turmoil. His voice dropped lower. “Don’t go.”

Sadness clutched my chest. “If I give myself, Zee, I give myself with all I have. With everything I have. I give and I give, and I let people take and take. But with you? I’m not sure I can handle you not giving in return, because I have no idea what it is you want from me.”

Honesty. Sometimes it was brutal. Sometimes it was hard to confess. Sometimes it made you vulnerable and small.

I was transparency. He was fog and mirrors.

He fisted a hand, pushed it against his mouth as if he were trying to keep the words in.

The second he dropped it, they rushed out. “I…I want to teach you. I want you to come back. I want…” He trailed off, leaving his intentions hanging in the air.

He blinked. “Most of all, I need to know you’re safe. Until that bastard is behind bars, I need to know you’re safe.”

I raked my teeth over my bottom lip, searching for ground when he’d already knocked me off my feet. “You confuse me.”

A regretful smile pulled at his mouth. “Believe me, gorgeous, you confuse me, too.”