Read Online The Stage (Phoenix Rising #1) by Shelby Rebecca - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelby Rebecca
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acting so gentle, so considerate, even though he was so arrogant to think he could come and I wouldn’t mind. It’s like he’s oblivious to how to treat people.
“What are you doing here, Kolton ?” I say, not masking my shaky voice enough. He pulls his hand away from me. “You can’t come into my room. If you’re loaning it to me, it has to stay a private area.” It’s obvious he doesn’t understand this simple truth.
“I came all the way here,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you, and I will.”
“Wow!” He’s so haughty. “There’s nothing here for you. Shouldn’t you be with Miss Steele,” I say, hinting at the title to her last album.
“With who?” he asks.
“Rania Steele,” I say, moving away from him even more.
He chuckles a little. “You’re jealous,” he decides, leaning back on his arms.
“Not at all. You two deserve each other.”
“We do?” he chuckles. The sound of his laugh makes me so mad I see flashes of color coming out of my eyes.
“Please, Kolton. Don’t tease me. I mean, here I am, like a kept woman in your house, trying to figure out what you’re doing,” I say, my lungs unable to keep up with my voice.
“What I’m doing? I’m helping you take care of your sister so you can compete.”
“Is that why you’re here in the middle of the night? Helping me compete ?”
“When are you going to learn to trust me, Mia?” he asks, leaning toward me, grasping my chin and running his thumb along my lips. It feels so good, but so, so wrong—like he thinks touching me solves all his problems.
“Don’t,” I say, pulling away from him. “You can’t touch me unless I give you permission.” His eyes sparkle in the dim light and it makes my heart pound and my lip twitch.
“I was just flirting with her to help you,” he says.
“Sure you were.” I look away from him. I don’t want to hear it.
“Look around. I’m taking care of you, of your sister. And what you saw between me and that fake bitch is called show business, Mia. We had to make up for how serious you and Kenny were during the shoot.”
“Why?”
“Aside from your voice, you were about as exciting as watching paint dry. This round, not every pair is featured on the show. I wanted to give them something to work with.”
“Oh,” I say. I was so tense, jealous, serious. I make a mental note: I need to play to the cameras more next time.
“I didn’t come to fight with you,” he says. “Tomorrow is a big day,” as he motions toward the pillow. “You should lie down.” I stay sitting up—a rage of conflict. Is he good? Is he bad?
What am I thinking? He’s bad. Definitely bad.
His hand moves up slowly, testing the touch-waters. He pauses before making skin-to-skin contact with my cheek. His eyebrow raise asks, “Do I have your permission?” He’s learning. I nod then close my eyes as he gently moves just the tip of his finger up to move the hair off my face behind my ear. I hear him kick off his shoes and he moves up to the other side of the bed beside me.
“Is this okay? I won’t touch you,” he says. “Can I be with you for—just until you fall asleep?” he asks, as he lies down behind me so we’re almost touching—him on top of the covers, me under them. Finally, I lie back down. I’m stiff, untrusting. “Close your eyes,” he says like an order. So I do.
He breathes me in like he’s scenting me again and hums a familiar tune in my ear. I feel a familiar comfort come over me as I start to snuggle up against his chest; comfort I haven’t felt since before the fire. I start to relax my muscles, one by one. He’s not trying to seduce me. He wants to help me feel safe, and it’s working.
No one has held me like this since…
Yeah. It’s been since my mom was alive. It hurts—aches in my chest. But this, it helps in a small way. I start to feel my body soften and my breathing slow as he puts his hand on the curve of my hip. Everything starts to change, though, as
“What are you doing here, Kolton ?” I say, not masking my shaky voice enough. He pulls his hand away from me. “You can’t come into my room. If you’re loaning it to me, it has to stay a private area.” It’s obvious he doesn’t understand this simple truth.
“I came all the way here,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you, and I will.”
“Wow!” He’s so haughty. “There’s nothing here for you. Shouldn’t you be with Miss Steele,” I say, hinting at the title to her last album.
“With who?” he asks.
“Rania Steele,” I say, moving away from him even more.
He chuckles a little. “You’re jealous,” he decides, leaning back on his arms.
“Not at all. You two deserve each other.”
“We do?” he chuckles. The sound of his laugh makes me so mad I see flashes of color coming out of my eyes.
“Please, Kolton. Don’t tease me. I mean, here I am, like a kept woman in your house, trying to figure out what you’re doing,” I say, my lungs unable to keep up with my voice.
“What I’m doing? I’m helping you take care of your sister so you can compete.”
“Is that why you’re here in the middle of the night? Helping me compete ?”
“When are you going to learn to trust me, Mia?” he asks, leaning toward me, grasping my chin and running his thumb along my lips. It feels so good, but so, so wrong—like he thinks touching me solves all his problems.
“Don’t,” I say, pulling away from him. “You can’t touch me unless I give you permission.” His eyes sparkle in the dim light and it makes my heart pound and my lip twitch.
“I was just flirting with her to help you,” he says.
“Sure you were.” I look away from him. I don’t want to hear it.
“Look around. I’m taking care of you, of your sister. And what you saw between me and that fake bitch is called show business, Mia. We had to make up for how serious you and Kenny were during the shoot.”
“Why?”
“Aside from your voice, you were about as exciting as watching paint dry. This round, not every pair is featured on the show. I wanted to give them something to work with.”
“Oh,” I say. I was so tense, jealous, serious. I make a mental note: I need to play to the cameras more next time.
“I didn’t come to fight with you,” he says. “Tomorrow is a big day,” as he motions toward the pillow. “You should lie down.” I stay sitting up—a rage of conflict. Is he good? Is he bad?
What am I thinking? He’s bad. Definitely bad.
His hand moves up slowly, testing the touch-waters. He pauses before making skin-to-skin contact with my cheek. His eyebrow raise asks, “Do I have your permission?” He’s learning. I nod then close my eyes as he gently moves just the tip of his finger up to move the hair off my face behind my ear. I hear him kick off his shoes and he moves up to the other side of the bed beside me.
“Is this okay? I won’t touch you,” he says. “Can I be with you for—just until you fall asleep?” he asks, as he lies down behind me so we’re almost touching—him on top of the covers, me under them. Finally, I lie back down. I’m stiff, untrusting. “Close your eyes,” he says like an order. So I do.
He breathes me in like he’s scenting me again and hums a familiar tune in my ear. I feel a familiar comfort come over me as I start to snuggle up against his chest; comfort I haven’t felt since before the fire. I start to relax my muscles, one by one. He’s not trying to seduce me. He wants to help me feel safe, and it’s working.
No one has held me like this since…
Yeah. It’s been since my mom was alive. It hurts—aches in my chest. But this, it helps in a small way. I start to feel my body soften and my breathing slow as he puts his hand on the curve of my hip. Everything starts to change, though, as
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