Lyrical (Academy of Stardom Book 2)

Dax

Jesus fucking Christ.

What the fuck was I thinking bringing her back here?

I tense under her scrutiny, my fucking heart beating like a drum and my cock stirring with dirty thoughts. I press my hips against the counter, trying to tame my bastard dick as I dish out the pizza. Now is not the time for that. But seriously, how can she look so damn beautiful and so fucking terrifying at the same time? Seeing her barefaced, with wet hair and dressed in my clothes does stupid things to me. I thought she looked fucking stunning in that sexy little outfit and those damn heels, but this woman before me. This is the woman who turns me on, who makes my fucking stomach drop out, my heart miss a beat, and my cock ramrod straight.

And when she dances… Fuck. There’s nothing like it. No one stirs me up quite the way she does. No fucking one. She’s an enigma. This tiny woman, so easily squashable, and yet so fucking strong. She’s a damn warrior and I’ve missed her. I’ve fucking missed everything about her.

“Sit. Eat,” I snap, fully aware that I’m acting like a dickhead but I’m unable to help myself.

She flinches at the harshness of my voice, and I already feel the apology rising up my throat.

I grit my jaw as she approaches, pushing the plate laden with food across the table. I take a seat opposite her, not knowing what the fuck to say. I’ve never been a big talker, but that’s only because I don’t feel the need to chat shit with anyone, except her. I want to talk with her. Xeno swore us off Pen, said she wasn’t part of the plan. But fuck him and his demands. I listened to him for far too long. Fuck, if I’m being brutally honest with myself, I wanted to take her in my arms the second I saw her on the dancefloor at Rocks.

“Eat,” I persist. We can talk once she’s filled her stomach and got some colour back in her cheeks.

“Why?” she asks, looking between the slices of pizza and back at me.

I notice her hands are shaking. I see the heartache in her eyes, and it angers me. Jeb’s a prick. He hasn’t taken care of her. No one’s taken care of her. My fist screws up into a ball, and it takes all my control not to fucking hit something. My cock softens at the thought. Now that I’ve acknowledged to myself what I’ve known all along since returning—that she’s in trouble—I can’t turn my back on her. I won’t. My cock and its wayward thoughts will have to chill the fuck out.

“Why eat? Because you’re stick thin, Kid…” I pause as she looks at me strangely. York might have always been able to read her the best, but there was no mistaking her emotions or her words tonight. Nothing is as it seems, and I feel like a cunt for only just wising up. “You need to eat,” I repeat, “So I bought you food. Don’t read too much into it.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I appreciate the food, but why take care of me like this now? Only a few days ago you wanted nothing to do with me. You dropped me for Tiffany. You’ve avoided me at every turn, Dax.”

“Eat, Pen,” I grind out. She might be able to flay herself open, but it’s not so easy for me. I need a fucking moment to gather my thoughts. To explain.

For the next ten minutes, we eat our meal in silence until she’s full. When her plate is empty and she lets out a tiny burp that makes her cheeks flush with embarrassment, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and a packet of painkillers from the cupboard and slide both across the counter to her. She raises her brow at the painkillers.

“I figured you might have a headache,” I mumble lamely. Damn, I have a headache from all the shit that’s gone down tonight.

“Thanks,” she says softly, popping a pill before unscrewing the cap on the bottle of water and taking a long swig, washing it down.

“You’ve still got some sauce on your—” I say, my voice trailing off as her face pinks up.

“Shit,” she mumbles, swiping at her chin and sucking the sauce into her mouth from her finger. There’s still a small droplet sitting on the corner of her lips and with my half-eaten food forgotten, I skirt around the island and stop in front of her. Automatically she turns to face me with her knees pressed together, and her small hands resting on her thighs.

“What?” she whispers. “Did I miss some?” Her tongue slides along her bottom lip as she catches the droplet just at the same moment my finger reaches it. The tip of her tongue presses against my finger, and we both stiffen. Her eyes widen, her pupils enlarging at that faintest of touches.

“Right there,” I say, my voice hoarse, my stupid fucking dick jumping in my pants.

She withdraws her tongue, her gaze focused on me. I don’t think she’s actually breathing. I know I’m fucking not, but I can’t seem to remove my finger from her lip. In fact, my whole hand cups her cheek, my thumb replacing the spot where my finger was, whilst her eyes flash with both confusion and hope.

I see that hope, and it makes my fucking heart break and my head fill with questions.

She belongs to Jeb, and yet she’s looking at me like she used to when we were kids. She’s looking at me like she’s mine, like she’s always been mine. and I don’t know what to do with that.

Actually, that’s bullshit.

I know exactly what I want to do. I want to pick her up in my arms, carry her back into my bedroom and fucking love her like I’ve wanted to do for years now. Fuck the consequences. Fuck everything.

I contemplate doing just that when she reaches up and grasps my wrist, as though to pull my hand away. Her breathing is coming in short, sharp breaths as her fingers tighten around my wrist. My thumb rubs across her bottom lip, making the pinkness turn a deeper shade from my bruising touch. I imagine biting that lip, making it bleed like she made me bleed when she walked away from us. That moment when she told us we were over is branded in my soul. I’ve never felt pain like it. It hurt. It still fucking hurts.

“Don’t,” she mutters, her lips parting on a breath, but it’s a half-hearted demand. There’s no conviction behind it. She’s worn out, beat down, and I hate that.

“Pen—” I step closer, disobeying her as my fingers slide into her hair, and I grasp hold of her a little too tightly. “I just want to—” comfort you, hold you, be there for you. Fuck, I need to man up. I need to say what I really feel, but it’s hard, so fucking hard. There’s too much distance between us and I’m not good with words. York and Zayn were always better at this part. They always knew what to say. “Fuck!” I curse, annoyed with myself.

Her warm breaths puff over my bare chest, and her eyes lock onto the angel tattoo sitting right over my heart. She raises her hand, her brows pulling together in a frown as she runs her fingers gently over the tattoo.

“When did you get this?” she asks, her voice so soft, I have to strain to hear, not to mention the fact that I’m fucking distracted by her touch.

“Not long after—” I sigh heavily. Come on, Dax, man the fuck up. “I got it not long after that night. I wanted a reminder of what I loved, and what I fucking lost. Back then, I wanted to look in the mirror and be reminded of the pain you caused so I wouldn’t be weak and seek you out. I got this tattoo as a warning to never, ever let you into my heart again.”

Pen’s hand falls away, and I can see tears glistening on the edges of her lashes as her gaze bores a hole right through my chest.

“I’m sorry…”

“Pen, listen —” But I can’t get the words out. My heart is still fucking bruised, and my words are caught in my throat at all the hurt between us. So much fucking hurt. There’s no hiding the feelings bubbling within us both, within me.

“I’m done with men using me,” she finally whispers out. It’s a random declaration but the truth in her words cuts me deep, slicing right through my skin. I need to get to the bottom of that statement because it’s heavy with secrets, but when I tip her head up so I can get a real good look at her, I know that she’s on the cusp of blurting everything out and I owe it to my brothers to wait for their return. They need to hear what she has to say, and I’ll be damned if I make her say it more than once, given how much it’s killing her.

“You should sleep,” I say, loosening my grip and stepping back, my hand falling away. “We can all talk when you’ve rested.”

“Dax, I —” There’s a sadness to her tone and I want to pick her up and fucking hold her. It takes all my effort not to snatch her up into my arms and crush her against my chest.

“Sleep, Pen. Take my room. You need to rest. You’re exhausted.”

Her gaze locks with mine and in that moment, I see her. I really see her.

My Kid. My beautiful fucking girl.

There’s nothing else in her gaze but honesty and this sad kind of loneliness that fucks me up in the worst possible way. I don’t need to fight in a cage to feel pain, I just need to look into her eyes.

“Dax,” she chokes, stepping off the stool. She seems to wobble on her feet. I swallow hard, my whole body vibrating with need for her. I can’t fucking help it. I hold my arms open, needing her. Needing this.

Fuck everything.

“Kid, come here,” I croak, my own throat closing up with emotion. This time she doesn’t hesitate. She walks straight into my open arms, slamming into my chest as she wraps her arms tightly around my waist.

“I missed you so, so much, Dax,” she whispers, her fingers digging into my skin, her cheek pressing against my chest right where my tattoo sits over my crazy, out of control heart. I hold her close, cupping her head and pulling her against me tightly. I don’t ever want to let go. Not ever.

So I don’t.

I hold her tightly as she sobs quietly in my arms, and every tear she sheds, every fucking sob that rips out of her mouth breaks down every last shred of resentment and anger I hold inside. It falls away. All of it. All of the years of wondering why she turned her back on me, on us, is shredded. Pen rarely cries. She was always so fucking strong. But I have a feeling, since we’ve returned, that’s all she’s done. Right here, right now, she falls apart in my arms, and I’ve never felt so fucking small in my life.

I’ve done this to her.

We’ve done this to her.

We came back into her life and pushed her, treated her like shit, like she meant nothing when all the while she meant every damn thing. No, she means everything. And if Xeno can’t fucking see it, then screw him.

My instincts kick in. My need to protect her like I did when we were kids takes over, and I slide my hands down her back, cupping her arse as I lift her up. She doesn’t protest, she simply wraps her legs around my waist, her hands sliding over my chest as she buries her face in the crook of my neck. I feel her lips brush against my shoulder, and my heart fucking collapses into a bleeding pulpy mess in my chest, whilst my cock thinks the circus has come to town. I snarl internally. This isn’t about that. I won’t break this truce by taking advantage of her in such a vulnerable state, no matter how much I want to rip my clothes from her body and sink into her until there’s only us.

Without saying a word, I carry her back to my room, kicking the door shut behind me, and lay her on my bed. She unravels herself from around me and lies down, her red-rimmed eyes staring up at me as I hover over her, my knees trapping her thighs, my forearms resting on either side of her head.

We don’t talk. This moment between us is too huge for words, too momentous. If I could dance with her now, I would. If she wasn’t so emotionally drained, I would take her into my arms and show her with my steps exactly how I feel. I’d make her understand that I never stopped loving her even when I convinced myself that I did.

But we have time for that.

Right now she needs to trust me again. She needs to know that from this fucking moment onwards, no matter the cost, I’m on her side.

“Dax, will you just hold me?”

My chest heaves as she looks at me with haunted eyes that make me want to kill everyone who ever hurt her, including my best friends, including myself. I nod, lowering down on arms that fucking tremble from holding back. She’s the only woman who’s ever made me feel weak and fucking invincible at the same time. My Kid. Fucking mine.

There’s nothing more that I want to do than sink myself inside of her, to love her the way I want to, the way I need to. Instead, I press my lips against her forehead and squeeze my eyes shut. My fingers curl around the bedding as I force myself to hold back. To wait.

It’s a fucking herculean task and dragging my lips away from her is painful, but I do it. I lie down beside her, my finger capturing a tear that rolls down her cheek whilst she resolutely looks up at the ceiling. I see her drawing strength from deep inside. I see her shoring up her reserves, replenishing the empty well within that the events of this evening have stolen from her. Tomorrow, when we’re rested, we can talk. Until then, I intend on holding her all fucking night long, but first my apology. Words aren’t enough, but for now they’re all I have.

“I’m sorry, Kid. I’m so fucking sorry for it all.”

“I’m sorry too,” she replies, then turns on her side and pulls her legs up to her chest, hugging herself close. It’s a closed position, and one that is self-comforting, but screw that. She needs to know I’m here, that I’ve got her back, so despite my bastard cock growing harder, I wrap my arm around her waist, and curl myself around her body, spooning her.

Before long, her muscles relax, her eyes close, and she falls fast asleep, snoring gently in my arms. Not long after, I hear the front door open, and York cursing my name. I don’t move.

He can come find us. Nothing has the power to drag me away from Kid right now, nothing.

When York pushes open my bedroom door and sees Kid wrapped up in my arms, I expect a mouthful of cusses, threats to my life. Instead, he meets my gaze, relief washing over his features.

“Where are Zayn and Xeno?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

“Doing what you asked.” York flicks his gaze at Kid, his freakish eyes flashing with something I recognise only too well. Protectiveness.

“Yeah?” I snort.

“Yeah. So rest up, bro, cuz that shit’s gonna blow up soon, and you need to be ready for it,” he says.

“Is that so?”

He nods, his fingers wrapping around the doorframe as his gaze trails over Kid. “I’m heading back out to join them, don’t expect us back anytime soon. It’s gonna be a long fucking weekend—” he says, then hesitates.

“What?”

“When we’re done, we have things to discuss. Just make sure Pen is still here when we get back. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“And what about Xeno?”

York puffs out a breath, shaking his head. I see the worry in his eyes, and it churns my stomach. “You need me?” I ask, hoping to fuck he doesn’t.

York shakes his head, gritting his jaw. “Right now we need you to take care of Titch. We’ll figure the rest out later,” he says, then quietly closes the door behind him.