Page 2 of Forbidden Intent

2

No one can play the drums like Miles Tallon.I watch, mesmerized at the way his muscles flex under chiseled arms, the veins popping in his forearms in that sexy way they do when men are working hard.Only Miles’s hard work is beating the drums into the most beautiful submission—creating a rhythm I feel deep in my core in a way I never have before.His passion for his music is breathtaking, his control mesmerizing, and his focus inspiring.

But the feelings he stirs in me with one look of his rich chocolate-brown eyes are terrifying.No man has ever made me feel this way—not with simply a look, and most certainly never with a touch.

I sip my vanilla latte as I watch his corded muscles bunch underneath his tan skin, the dark hair along his arms a contrast to the glisten of sweat from the exertion of hitting every beat perfectly in sync with the rest of his band, Rapturous Intent.The tingles building in my body are a foreign sensation.Hell, I couldn’t even stir up anything close the few times I attempted to use my own hand—or the vibrator that my best friend, Rikki, gave me for my eighteenth birthday a month ago.

My dad mumbles something before making an adjustment to the board, but the reminder that he’s right next to me pulls me out of my reverie.My cheeks heat and the pleasant, confusing, and yet terrifying tingles disappear almost as quickly as they came.

Nothing like having your dad sitting right next to you to make you feel incredibly awkward about finally feeling turned on for the first time in three years.

I take a larger gulp of my coffee this time before locking eyes on Miles again, only to find his penetrating stare directed my way, his body still busy rocking the rhythm that drives the song his band is playing.My heart stops momentarily before beating so wildly I’m sure a herd of horses must be galloping inside my chest, or maybe elephants.Are they called a herd?Who knows.All I know is I can’t break the connection.

I don’t want to.

Connection isn’t an easy thing for me, but even less so with men.But Miles Tallon makes me feel, and I’m torn between running far away from these feelings and running straight toward them to see if they can finally free me from my past.The past that makes me feel older than my eighteen years.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration startling me and causing me to avert my gaze from Miles.Sliding the phone out of my pocket, I see Rikki’s name emblazoned on the screen.

Rikki: How’s the internship going?

Me: So far, I’m the coffee runner.

Rikki: Thrilling.I thought having connections with THE Decker Cross meant you’d actually be doing more than being a go-fer.

Me: I need to earn my place.I don’t mind.This is still one hell of an experience.The connections and networking will work wonders toward my career and hopefully impress my professor.

Rikki: No offense, but your prof is a dick.I doubt he’ll be impressed by anything because he thinks you’re some spoiled Hollywood princess with a silver spoon in her mouth.He has no intention of getting to really know you or what you’re capable of all on your own.Don’t judge your success based on what that douche-canoe thinks.You’re going to rock that industry.

I smile at my best friend’s words, knowing she’s probably right about my professor and appreciating that she always has my back.We’ve been best friends since we met on the first day of kindergarten.She sat next to me and asked if I wanted to share her crayons, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.There are days I’m convinced I never would’ve made it this far if it weren’t for her.She’s given me her strength during some of the darkest times in my life.

When my mom died when I was seven.

When my first period started and my dad had no idea what to do, so she got her mom to teach me everything.

When she found me on the floor, broken in so many ways, during that one night sophomore year that we’ve never talked about since.

She’s my ride or die.

Rikki: So I love you and all, but how hot is Trent Bridger in real life?How about Tristan?Hell, tell me about them all.

She’s also an insane Rapturous Intent fan and dying to know any inside scoops on the band.I smirk at my phone, my thumbs poised to respond when my dad clears his throat and I glance up to see him watching me, one corner of his mouth tipped up in an amused smirk and one brow quirked.

“Am I boring you, Tam Tam?”

Rolling my eyes, I respond, “Dad, you promised you wouldn’t call me that during my internship.I’m an adult now and this is a serious opportunity for me.”

His gaze softens.“I know it is.Sorry, but you’ll always be my baby.”He reaches out and squeezes my hand, a moment passing between us before he clears his throat again and gets down to business.“Okay, so what questions do you have?”

Prepared, I pull out my notebook with questions I’ve jotted down over the past few weeks for this moment.Despite being the daughter of LA’s most prolific and famous producer, I’ve only recently taken an interest in what he actually does.I never cared to know all the ins and outs, especially once I started high school and was lost in my own world.It was only when I decided I wanted to pursue a career as a music publicist that I decided to take a stronger interest in my dad’s job in order to gain a better understanding of the industry as a whole.No one knows the music industry better than Decker Cross—and no one has more connections.While I don’t necessarily want my dad to make those connections for me, I know full well the impact and connections I could make on my own just by working for him for a short time.I also know he can give me some inside information that’ll better prepare me for success.

“How long does it take to record an album typically?”

He leans back in his chair, putting his hands on the armrest.“Well, it varies.For these guys, it’ll likely take a couple of months to get everything exactly how we want it.They’ve already written most of their songs, but Trent and Tristan want to do a few more to fit the vibe of the rest of them.Then we have to record it and meet that sound.”

“You have some ideas about that?”I swivel around in my chair to where Robbie Nolan, the band’s manager and friend, sits on the couch, his phone in one hand and a Coke in the other.He waits eagerly for my dad’s response to his question.

“I do,” my dad responds.“Trent and I have been talking about it.I know he wants Tristan’s input as well since Tristan wrote more of the songs on this upcoming album.”

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