Read Online The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) by Shelby Rebecca - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shelby Rebecca
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clapping his hands together. Knowing it’ll get a reaction, I straighten my top so it shows even more cleavage. His eyes dart down to my breasts and then up to my eyes like daggers. But then he smiles again, “One more time through,” he says, still looking tense.
I’m really not into the rest of the session. I do what he says. I make the changes she suggests, like emphasizing that third ‘love.’ I watch her giggle at all his jokes and his chest puff up every time she touches him.
My stomach hurts by the time our hour of shooting is over and we say our goodbyes. “Thank you for all your advice,” I say.
“I like your make-up today,” Kenny says to me as we walk toward the entrance.
“Thanks,” I shrug.
“She’s a serious one,” I hear Rania remark as I’m walking out the door. “But her voice-”
“I know,” Kolton says. “She’s like dreaming with your eyes open.”
The rest of the day, all through the after-coaching interview, and through dinner with Deloris and Riley, I can’t get that out of my head. Them flirting. My temper tantrum. Him looking at me like he didn’t understand why I was ripping accessories off, then getting mad about my hair and cleavage. Him giving me that compliment. Here I am, in his house. But he doesn’t own me. No one does.
CHAPTER SIX
Midnight Song
I ’ve been sleeping in my own bed upstairs. Riley made herself at home and doesn’t need me so much anymore. Having Deloris around is like having a grandma or a parent. We both really like her.
I put my earphones in to listen to music. Soon, my breathing slows, and I’m falling into a dream. What makes me stir are my ear buds coming out. I rub my eyes with both fists. It’s completely dark. I’ve been in a deep sleep because it takes me a second or two to stabilize my vision. When I do, I see a dark figure sitting in the corner chair. Am I dreaming? I blink. No, it’s still there.
“Who’s there?” I rasp.
“I want you to call me Kole ,” he says, his voice deep, controlled. I bolt upright, but he doesn’t move.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “You can’t just—we can get in trouble.”
“Did you like the song I wrote you?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” His voice sounds halfway between hurt and angry.
“I don’t owe you any explanation.”
“Don’t you?” he questions, standing up.
“Just because you write a song and send it to me doesn’t make up for you thinking you have the right to bring us here without asking.” I pull my legs up to my chest.
“I did all of this for you,” he says. “Don’t you see?”
“No. No, I don’t. I have no idea what you want.” I smell him now. That scent. Sandalwood? I’m quivering, here in the bed he owns.
He can have any woman—and he does, often. He probably just slept with Rania Steele, and now he’s here—for what? To try and take advantage of me? He’s probably insatiable.
“You’re shaking,” he says. I try to make it stop, but it only gets worse. He stands up, moves closer to me, and I feel my eyes widen.
“If I’m scaring you—if you want me to leave, tell me now,” he says. I can’t say anything. His proximity. All my witty comebacks are gone. “Mia,” he says, like a plea. “Breathe. You need to breathe,” he says, sitting down on the bed, taking my hand during a moment of weakness.
As I purposely inhale, I feel more alive than I ever have before. I can sense his warmth, taste the mint from my mouthwash still in effect, take in his distinct scent—cigarettes, cologne, and something uniquely Kolton. He smells like sin. I feel his steady hand as he touches mine—pulling me into his voodoo spell. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I shake it off and then remember why I’m mad. The nerve he has, showing up here in my room without permission. But why does the simple way he touches my hand and caringly reminds me to breathe make my want to cry? He’s
I’m really not into the rest of the session. I do what he says. I make the changes she suggests, like emphasizing that third ‘love.’ I watch her giggle at all his jokes and his chest puff up every time she touches him.
My stomach hurts by the time our hour of shooting is over and we say our goodbyes. “Thank you for all your advice,” I say.
“I like your make-up today,” Kenny says to me as we walk toward the entrance.
“Thanks,” I shrug.
“She’s a serious one,” I hear Rania remark as I’m walking out the door. “But her voice-”
“I know,” Kolton says. “She’s like dreaming with your eyes open.”
The rest of the day, all through the after-coaching interview, and through dinner with Deloris and Riley, I can’t get that out of my head. Them flirting. My temper tantrum. Him looking at me like he didn’t understand why I was ripping accessories off, then getting mad about my hair and cleavage. Him giving me that compliment. Here I am, in his house. But he doesn’t own me. No one does.
CHAPTER SIX
Midnight Song
I ’ve been sleeping in my own bed upstairs. Riley made herself at home and doesn’t need me so much anymore. Having Deloris around is like having a grandma or a parent. We both really like her.
I put my earphones in to listen to music. Soon, my breathing slows, and I’m falling into a dream. What makes me stir are my ear buds coming out. I rub my eyes with both fists. It’s completely dark. I’ve been in a deep sleep because it takes me a second or two to stabilize my vision. When I do, I see a dark figure sitting in the corner chair. Am I dreaming? I blink. No, it’s still there.
“Who’s there?” I rasp.
“I want you to call me Kole ,” he says, his voice deep, controlled. I bolt upright, but he doesn’t move.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “You can’t just—we can get in trouble.”
“Did you like the song I wrote you?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” His voice sounds halfway between hurt and angry.
“I don’t owe you any explanation.”
“Don’t you?” he questions, standing up.
“Just because you write a song and send it to me doesn’t make up for you thinking you have the right to bring us here without asking.” I pull my legs up to my chest.
“I did all of this for you,” he says. “Don’t you see?”
“No. No, I don’t. I have no idea what you want.” I smell him now. That scent. Sandalwood? I’m quivering, here in the bed he owns.
He can have any woman—and he does, often. He probably just slept with Rania Steele, and now he’s here—for what? To try and take advantage of me? He’s probably insatiable.
“You’re shaking,” he says. I try to make it stop, but it only gets worse. He stands up, moves closer to me, and I feel my eyes widen.
“If I’m scaring you—if you want me to leave, tell me now,” he says. I can’t say anything. His proximity. All my witty comebacks are gone. “Mia,” he says, like a plea. “Breathe. You need to breathe,” he says, sitting down on the bed, taking my hand during a moment of weakness.
As I purposely inhale, I feel more alive than I ever have before. I can sense his warmth, taste the mint from my mouthwash still in effect, take in his distinct scent—cigarettes, cologne, and something uniquely Kolton. He smells like sin. I feel his steady hand as he touches mine—pulling me into his voodoo spell. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I shake it off and then remember why I’m mad. The nerve he has, showing up here in my room without permission. But why does the simple way he touches my hand and caringly reminds me to breathe make my want to cry? He’s
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