Behind the Curtain - Page 112

“What things, exactly?” Charlotte asked.

“The different worlds she lives in,” Asher replied without pause, his gaze once again on Laila.

“I realize she’s Moroccan and Muslim. Her lyrics and performance are very sexual. Of course it might be a challenge,” Charlotte said brusquely. “But I mean, in this day and age, how big a deal could it be?”

“A very big deal,” Asher stated unequivocally. “To Laila, it is.”

“But surely it’s one she can overcome, given the probable result. She could become an epic star . . . a legend.”

“Just a word of advice, if you’re trying to sway Laila to your point of view, I wouldn’t try to convince her with flattery like that.”

The music resumed. Asher turned his attention back to the stage. Laila’s velvety smooth, resonant voice filled the large club once again.

“But I mean, listen to her. Look at her,” Charlotte muttered next to him, awe tingeing her tone. “Is a force of nature like that, is something so beautiful, meant to be veiled?”

He ground his teeth together, annoyed . . . sort of at Charlotte, but mostly at himself. Because he agreed with the agent—in part. Charlotte’s sentiment echoed something Asher had told Laila once, years ago.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it a bit. When you close yourself off. Shut off your gift. Hide who you are. Try to dim your glory.”

The memory and the present moment created a friction in him. Because while he did agree with Charlotte in part, he also understood Laila. He got the conflict she constantly experienced between the different worlds she carefully and thoughtfully negotiated. It dawned on him, maybe fully for the first time, just how much strength and fortitude and courage it took for her to balance those worlds. He admired her for it.

He loved her like crazy for it.

He exhaled slowly at the admission. He still loved her. Now, more than ever. Of course, he’d known it all along. It was just too big a truth for him to consciously dwell on much.

And yet . . . he still did hate the fact that she felt the need to dim the incredible light inside her. Would he love her more if she’d rebelled, if she’d blatantly defied and denied her culture and family? No. He couldn’t love her more than he did right at that moment, watching her radiant face as her talent—her spirit itself—so effortlessly filled that room.

But he couldn’t help but feel frustration too. Yes, she’d told him that the curtain didn’t just protect her bonds with culture and family, but also shielded her personal privacy. But he wasn’t entirely convinced. Just as she felt the need to block her gift from a part of her world, he worried she’d feel a similar need to keep him separate from a good part of her life too. He didn’t want to have a half relationship with Laila. He wanted her fully, with no reservations.

He knew he was selfish. According to his mother, he always had been. Recognizing his fault didn’t help matters any.

He wanted all of her, without barriers. Without constraint.

The friction of his emotions only built as the afternoon wore on and he watched the evidence of her talent mount, until it felt like he drowned in its abundance.

He felt a little edgy and uncomfortable in his own skin as he followed Laila down the hallway to her dressing room later, after the rehearsal was finished. It didn’t really hit him that she hadn’t spoken either, or that she was feeling almost as wired as he was. Not until she shut her dressing room door, locked it, turned and slid her arms around his neck. She pulled him to her. The fire she’d started with her performance smoldered in her kiss. She passed it to him, until he hauled her up against his body and burned alongside her.

He broke their hot and heavy kiss a moment later when she cupped his cock boldly in her palm.

“Were you getting hard out there, watching me?” she asked throatily, moving her hand.

His gaze narrowed on her beautiful, exultant face. “How did you know that?”

“I can tell by the look on your face,” she said, an intoxicating smile tilting her lips. She began yanking on his button fly. “I can read your mind.”

“Oh yeah? What was I thinking about, exactly?”

“Dirty stuff,” she grinned.

He laughed and cupped her face. As he looked down at her, his amusement faded. “That’s all you imagine I was thinking about, watching you light up that room?”

Her smile faded. He kissed her deep and thoroughly. When he ended the kiss, she opened heavy-looking eyelids.

“Maybe not,” she replied. She jerked his jeans down over his ass abruptly, planting a kiss on his chest. She looked up at him, her gaze mischievous—sexy as hell. “Is it okay if I was the one thinking nothing but dirty thoughts, then?”

She went to her knees. A rush of heat went through him.

“I suppose I could forgive your lechery this once,” he told her sarcastically, palming the back of her head. She cupped his balls through his boxer briefs, lifting them slightly. He groaned at her touch, feeling himself stiffen even more. The head of his cock poked lewdly against stretchy white cotton. She slid her cheek against it, moaning softly. Then she placed a chaste-seeming kiss on the tip, her green eyes shining as she looked up at his face.

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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