Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

I rushed back up the stairs to meet him. “Don’t break anything, rocker boy. I need you in perfect working order after the show.” I hauled him in for a kiss and raced back down the stairs. “I’ll find you.”

I wandered around the vineyard. The grounds were wide in scope and the sun was setting over the impressive acreage of land. I was used to orchards, so a vineyard wasn’t that different. Enough that I knew the good places to tackle for pictures. Some for my own usage at a later date and some that would highlight Ian’s soundcheck.

Even from a distance, he was impressive. He turned around to Perry a few times with surprise as they established a rhythm. She was a dynamo on her drum kit. I didn’t know jack about music, but the chick was talented as far as I could tell. And Lark was no slouch. She had a sexy vibe that Ian seemed to appreciate.

My fingers tightened on my camera as I swapped the lens out for my telephoto.

From a distance, he looked like he was sidling up to her. Through the long-range lens, I saw them bumping hips with a smile between them. Teasing, but more familial or friendly instead of the instant flavor of sex I assumed they would establish.

He attacked the mic stand as he warmed up his vocals and tested out the small amphitheater’s sound.

The stage was intimate, but suited his style. I found myself clicking more pictures than I thought I would. Enough that my memory card yelled at me that I was nearing my end. Taking photos in raw form filled the card faster, but I was definitely being indulgent.

For once, I didn’t really care.

I was going to enjoy him tonight.

Once soundcheck ended, Ian was pulled away to talk to a few fans. I took that time to collect myself and my equipment. By the time the outdoor theater started filling up, I was trapped in the logjam of people. I wanted to be down front to see him come onstage.

I weaved my way through the crowd. Snatches of conversation dented my consciousness.

Did you see him in Encino?

Fuck, yes. I nearly came when he did that thing at the end.

Came? Jesus. What thing at the end?

I hadn’t been watching his videos as closely as I used to. The real thing kept sneaking back into my life. That, and my current shitstorm with my advisor stopped me from doing anything besides work.

A prickle of guilt threatened to push into my enjoyment of the night. But there was nothing I could do. In fact, this was exactly what I needed for my show, according to Ginny. I wasn’t quite sold on that yet, but I was willing to find out.

The lights went down just as I got to the middle section. I flashed my all-access badge and rushed down the main aisle just as the stage lights came up. Ian came up to the microphone. He was backlit to a mere shadow.

I nearly hit my knees in reaction.

He wore all black. Similar and so very different from the first time I saw him. Then he’d been mismatched and glittery in a garish extreme. Now?

Now he was in fitted black pants with a floral leather pattern climbing his legs. A silky black button-down shirt was tucked in, showing off just how well those goddamn pants fit him. His inky hair was a riot of curls tumbling down his shoulders to tease into the opening of his shirt. But it was the silver cross glittering against his skin that made me burn. The memory of it dangling over me as he thrusted into me again and again was like a frigging match.

Mine.

I wanted to clear out the whole audience and squirrel him away with me so no one could see this.

I wanted it to be only for me.

My fingers worked independently from my lust-filled lizard brain. I took the shots. Lined up the lighting and settings for the perfect rockstar photos. But the other half of me was revving up as his low, raspy voice filled the amphitheater. His voice was sex. His stage persona was as enthralling as any of the greats I’d seen over the years.

Presence.

It couldn’t be bought. It could be learned by some, but a true artist breathed it into the words they sang, the music they created. Ian was already mastering his talents in the short time since I’d seen him last. Tonight, he held the crowd in the palm of his hand with his moody and sensual opening song.

Lark’s liquid backing vocals enhanced Ian’s rough-around-the-edges textured voice. His vocal range filled the little pavilion and bounced around the crowd. The song started off soft and heavy and built until he was howling into the mic in a pure sexual frenzy.

He dropped to his knees at the end of the song and found me in the crowd.

His eyes were glittering and full of madness. His chest heaved with the note he’d held and I was absolutely done. Then the lights went dark.

The crowd erupted into screams and the rest of the set was full of rocking songs that brought people to their feet with laughter and clapping singalongs. He knew how to engage. I got dozens of shots of him flirting with the crowd. Drawing them into his wicked web of snark and sass before he blew them away with his talent.