Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(17)
He’d had the damn thing rewired three times since the last tour. Hank, his tech guy, was pretty much the only one that could fix it. And it was pure perfection right now.
He cupped his hands around the cool metal. “Start from the top.”
Margo lifted her violin and the notes soared. He closed his eyes and let the song take him. The lyrics filled his head and spilled out effortlessly. He usually downplayed his voice during rehearsal—saving the real deal for the crowds.
But they were doing an abbreviated set so he didn’t have to worry about it. The idle chitchat and scrape of dishes and glasses faded to the background as the song rolled him under.
He paced the stage and unearthed slinky Robert Plant memories. Margo’s violin elevated the song. Gray and Nick played back-to-back and Deacon was doing his metronome sway.
Jazz twirled glowing green sticks as she kept the beat, watching Deacon for clues for the pace of the song. Everything was as it should be.
Save for Margo.
She matched him in all black except for the bright pink that drew the eye to her spectacular breasts. So much her and yet not. A new breed of prim musician just waiting to bust out of her mold.
And because the song seemed to cry out for it, he stalked her around the stage. They held eye contact as the song built and his voice got raspier with each chorus. He swayed forward and she arched back until they were one unit in the song.
Like the ebb and flow of thrusting inside of her. They matched up so effortlessly. By the time the song ended, the room was silent and the cord of the mic was wound so tightly around his wrist his blood throbbed with the restriction.
Much like his f*cking pants.
The wolf whistle and claps brought him back and he shut down that heady connection with her. Those dark eyes slayed him and moved him. He turned with her at his side and they both bowed.
He itched to curl around her so he crossed the stage to Nick instead. They rolled through the new songs and then one more cover. He coughed through the middle of “Closer to the Edge” from Thirty Seconds to Mars so he pulled back to keep it fresh for the show.
It was a crowd pleaser and a sing-a-long song. They wrapped up rehearsal with “Nailed” and “Sugar Kiss” from the new album.
“Don’t you want to do ‘The Becoming’?” Jazz asked. “Margo hasn’t done it live yet.”
“That’s fine. I know it by heart,” Margo answered before he could.
“It’s different live,” Nick chimed in.
Simon pushed up his sleeves. “Let’s wing it. See if the magic happens. If not, we’ll practice double time for tomorrow night.”
Margo nodded and uncapped a bottle of water and took a long drink.
He had to turn away from her long, graceful neck beaded with sweat. Even with the lights at a minimum, it was hot on stage. He’d be swapping out the dress shirt for a tank for the show that night.
But for now, he took the front stairs to the floor. “I have to do a few more interviews.”
Anything to get away from the stage. He turned up the wattage on his smile as a redhead crossed to him.
“Amazing rehearsal. Tonight will be epic.”
“I hope so, darlin’.”
“I’m Bobbi Matthews with Z100.”
“Oh, right. We did an acoustic set on your show two weeks ago.”
“Yes. It was such a hit that we wanted to come down and cover your release party.”
“Happy to have you.”
“I have a few questions, if that’s okay.”
He looked over his shoulder at Margo still on the stage talking quietly to Lila. She was blotting her neck with a towel. He turned back to Bobbi. “Absolutely.”
Anything to get his mind off that stage.
* * *
Margo’s chest was still tight and her heart was in her throat. This stage made the philharmonic feel small and boring. The mishmash of instruments and the way Gray and Nick swapped out guitars like there was an endless supply in their trunks fascinated her.
She had a half dozen violins herself, but she’d only thought to bring her Starfish. If she’d had the wherewithal, she would have brought her classical as well.
“Kashmir” lent itself to the classic style she used on the Boston stage—had used on the Boston stage.
No more.
This was her only stage for the foreseeable future.
And already she didn’t want to let it go. The adrenaline and endorphins were still bubbling under her skin. She’d never felt more alive or free.
“Amazing stuff, Margo.”
She turned to Lila. “Thanks. I didn’t know this would work. I had my doubts.”
“Just wait ‘til you feed off the crowd. You and Simon already have magic.”
“No. It’s just the music.”
“Music is sex and sexual power. And you both exude it all over the stage. I can’t wait to see it tonight.”
No pressure. Margo tucked her violin in its case. “Let’s hope the crowd doesn’t think it’s too weird.”
“I was surprised you didn’t do ‘The Becoming’. It’s their biggest hit. Though ‘Sugar Kiss’ is definitely gaining strength there.”
Margo concentrated on the snaps to her case so she wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. “The Becoming” was too much. After the Zeppelin song, her body couldn’t handle that along with the memories.