Encore Read online

  Encore

  Book 3 of the Back-up Series

  by

  A.M. Madden

  To my three kings, you rule my world.

  Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was choice, but falling in love with you was destiny.

  ~Unknown.

  You don’t find love, it finds you. It’s got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what’s written in the stars.

  ~ Anais Nin

  Fate had you walking into that studio two years ago. I had no idea what love was, what love was capable of doing. It suffocates and debilitates and strips you raw, and I would do it all over again. You rocked my world to the core, you’ve altered every cell in my body, and you have secured my destiny.

  ~ A.M. Madden

  Leila’s Prologue

  Antigua ~ June 22, 2014

  When we arrived, I couldn’t contain my happiness. I bounced on my toes while clutching his hand tightly between both of mine. He squeezed my hand in return and smiled wide at my enthusiasm. Our private butler, Jensen, showed us our cottage. As we moved from room to room, all I saw were the many places we could have sex. The huge Jacuzzi tub, the four different couches, the king size bed, the chaise lounges on the patio, the private pool, the private beach, the ocean…just to name a few.

  I am not a shallow sex fiend who’s only interested in getting some. I love my husband with all my heart. Our connection goes way beyond the physical. Our connection is emotional and consuming. Our connection is perfect. The frosting on my cake is that the sex is also perfection.

  The notion, that this flawless specimen of a man loves me beyond reason and adores me beyond compare, is an aphrodisiac of the most potent kind.

  At the end of our tour, Jensen explained we were stocked with supplies and a phone call could get us anything we desired. He reminded us housekeeping would be by every morning unless we hung a “Do not Disturb” sign on the door. Jack tipped the kind man and closed the door behind him.

  When Jack turned to face me, his gaze could literally incinerate the clothes I was wearing.

  “For the record, we aren’t leaving this cottage. So I hope you like this place, because you and I are staying put for fourteen days.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” My panting made me sound as winded as if I ran a few laps around the island.

  He stalked over to me, lifted me in his arms, and asked, “Where first?”

  True to his word, we never left. We’ve christened every surface, both inside and out. We barely saw other humans. Our only contact with the outside world was our sweet housekeeper named Rosa, and when Jensen delivered our meals at random times of the day, when we decided we needed fuel to continue our physical activity.

  I was in a constant state of ecstasy and not just from his physical love. Yes, we barely wore clothes and couldn’t go an hour without foaming at the mouth. More importantly, we talked about everything. We celebrated our birthdays wrapped in each other’s arms. He serenaded me on the beach with his guitar. As his fingers moved over the strings, all I could focus on was how sexy his hand looked while sporting his new wedding band.

  This man, who is now my husband, who I adore and love more than anything on this planet, attended to my every need: emotionally, physically, and sexually.

  In spite of the fact I’ve been in a state of complete and utter bliss since arriving two weeks ago, I’m now in a horrible mood. I am feeling melancholy that our honeymoon is over. I’m feeling grumpy that Jack has to start wearing clothes again. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to share him. I want to stay right here forever. How am I handling it? I am sulking and brooding and acting like a spoiled brat.

  Even I am aware my behavior is ridiculous. I’m going back home as Mrs. Jack Lair. I will be living with him daily and working by his side…not exactly hell, but I love naked Jack. I love the feel of the warm Caribbean Ocean between my legs when he takes me or the rough sand beneath my back when he devours me. I love the feel of cool marble as I consume him on the steps of the pool while on my hands and knees.

  Which brings me to my second issue, I am completely out of control. This loss of control isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before. The best way I can describe it is as if we unleashed a beast. When we were on tour, in constant company with our band mates on a crowded bus, we had to behave. We had to act like civilized people. I had to act like a civilized person. I wasn’t aware this sexual barbarian even lived inside of me. It was contained, controlled for my entire adult life. I am a completely rational human being. I understand the ramifications that would occur, if I weren’t able to control my Jack Lair appetite out in public…mainly being arrested for lewd conduct. But, being here without witnesses or law enforcement to keep me in check has severed the restraints that contained the beast…and now it’s out.

  “Baby, do you have everything?” He calls out to me from the bathroom. When he’s met with silence, he steps into the doorway, waiting for my response. “Babe?”

  “Hmm?” I ask distractedly. He isn’t wearing a shirt, again. His jeans are hanging low on his hips and my girly parts start to pulse.

  What the fuck?

  I just had him seven minutes ago. How can I be so completely turned on by my husband standing in a doorway, asking me a simple question?

  He walks over with concern etched on his face and asks, “What’s wrong now?”

  “Everything.”

  “Lei, you’re scaring me.” He sits next to me on the bed, taking my hand in his. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

  “No, no…not bad wrong. Good wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?” His confusion is clear in his exasperated tone. “How can something be good wrong?”

  “I want to stay here, forever.”

  “I know, me, too. But we can’t, Babe. We need to get back. We have the Casiano wedding and the benefit concert and studio time…”

  “I know.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “I am quite aware of ALL the adult responsibilities that face us when we get home. It doesn’t mean I want to be a responsible adult. I like being carefree and naked. And…”

  “And what?”

  “I want you naked all the time,” I fold my arms determinedly, and he laughs. “Stop laughing. It’s. All. Your. Fault.”

  “What’s my fault?”

  “You’ve given me the best honeymoon, but you’ve also created a monster. You’ve made me an insatiable sex-maniac, and I’m not so sure I’ll be able to function outside of these walls among society. I can’t be held responsible for my behavior, if you so much as show me your dimples. It’s all your fault.”

  He gives me a lop-sided grin and says, “You are one to talk.” He takes my hand and places it on his arousal. “This is just from seeing you sitting on this bed in a string bikini, acting like a brat. Not exactly normal, is it?”

  I thrust my tongue out at him, and he captures it between his fingers and tugs.

  “How are we going to behave?”

  “Not sure it’s possible.” He moves my hair off my shoulder and nibbles on my earlobe. “We have time for another round. Would that help?”

  “No, but I’ll take it.”

  He moves his lips over a few of my erogenous zones, driving me insane in the process. I take hold of his head and force him to look into my eyes. “Thank you. You have given me the best honeymoon a girl could ask for. I love you so much. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He leans in and kisses my lips softly. “I love you, too.”

  We end our honeymoon the way it started. He worships my body on this huge comfortable bed, and makes love to me as if it’s the first time. While Jack sinks into me slowly, tears fill my eyes as I stare into his. A flash of our future helps my mood. Slowly, rationality seeps back into my subconscious, all
owing me to think clearly. Today is just the beginning. Today is truly the first day of the rest of our lives. We have so much to accomplish, together…and we are just getting started.

  PART ONE -FATE

  Chapter 1- Leila

  Just kill me.

  Smother my face with a pillow and put me out of my misery. The tightening in the pit of my stomach starts up another round of dry heaving. The vomiting has stopped, only because I haven’t had any food or drink in two days. There’s nothing left in me. But each bout still sends me to the toilet, just in case. My head pounds in pain from being dehydrated.

  Just kill me.

  “Babe?” Jack calls out to me from the living room.

  The only form of communication I can muster is to grunt. He walks into our bedroom, immediately coming over to where my listless, drained body is lying in a lump on our bedroom floor.

  “Holy shit, Baby! What’s wrong?”

  “It was easier to get to the bathroom each time, if I just lay right outside of it.”

  “You scared the fuck out of me!”

  “Ugh. Please don’t yell. It’ll make me throw up again.”

  He palms my forehead, my cheek, my chest, checking for my temperature. “You’re not hot. When did this start up again?”

  “A hundred hours ago.”

  He chuckles and lifts me off the ground. “I’ve been gone less than an hour.”

  “Jack…hurry…bathroom.”

  He does an about-face and carries me into the bathroom.

  “Get out.” I manage to say, right before I commence another round of dry heaving.

  He squats beside me, holding my hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “The phone was too far way.” I heave repeatedly, staring into the bottom of the toilet, wishing something would finally come up.

  “You need to see a doctor. This is the third time in two days. I no longer think it’s food poisoning. It must be a bug.” His tone is angry. He’s been hounding me to call the doctor since I first tossed my cookies two days ago. I told him he was, once again, overreacting, and it would pass. I hate being wrong. I especially hate when he’s right. He first becomes indignant, and then he gloats annoyingly.

  “Ok,” I concede. I don’t have the energy to fight or argue any more. I’m exhausted. Just as I feel better for a few hours, bam, it hits me again.

  I can feel his warm hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. Normally, his touch would rile me up. There must be something seriously wrong with me.

  After a few minutes pass, he asks, “Done?”

  I nod weakly, afraid that speaking at this moment will trigger my gag reflex. He bends and lifts me again, carrying me toward the bed. He securely tucks me in and commands, “Don’t move.”

  He leaves me for a few seconds, returning with a bottle of water and a large pot. I barely lift my head to acknowledge.

  “Why the pot?”

  “If you need to get sick, use this,” he says in all seriousness. I gawk at him in a very unflattering way. “What?”

  “I’m not going to puke in front of you and I’m not using a pot.”

  “I couldn’t find a bucket.”

  “Jack, that’s disgusting.”

  “I don’t give a damn. I don’t want you laying on the floor anymore,” he barks. When I roll my eyes, he shakes his head. He reaches for my cell phone and scrolls through contacts until he finds the person he needs, as he mumbles under his breath, “You’re so stubborn.”

  I won’t admit this to him, but it does feel good to be under the covers. I settle into the coziness and warmth, not missing the hard cold floor. My eyes drift drowsily as I listen to Jack speaking to the receptionist at my doctor’s office. After a round of questions regarding my symptoms, his next comment jolts me awake.

  “Pregnancy test?”

  It’s as if a light bulb goes off in his brain. A smile slowly spreads across his face. He answers a few more questions, asks some of his own, and then disconnects the call while grinning like a fool.

  “So, um…they think your symptoms could be morning sickness.”

  “It’s nighttime.”

  “It can happen any time of day.”

  “Pregnant?”

  Can that be? Crap…I instantly remember the two days I forgot to take my pill. I was supposed to cut him off, and the beast wouldn’t allow it. But come on, pregnant? It fucking figures that Jack Lair’s sperm is as tenacious as he is.

  “Pregnant?” I question again.

  He gives me a dazzling smile and skims his thumb along my bottom lip. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, my very own MILF.”

  “Damn it,” what I’m thinking slips out of my stupid mouth. My comment causes him to stop his motion and frown.

  “Really? It would upset you to be pregnant?”

  “We have a tour we are leaving on in a few weeks. How is this going to pan out?”

  Jack takes hold of my chin and lifts until I am staring back at him. “I don’t give a fuck about the tour. We’ll cancel it. It can wait.”

  “We will do no such thing! Jack, don’t start and do not test me on this...” I jerk out of his hold, folding my arms in defiance. He mimics my stance, smirking, and quirking a brow in a challenge.

  “OR?” he asks mockingly.

  “Or I’ll…” I come up empty, not able to think of one suitable threat. I can’t threaten to withhold sex, because that simply ain’t happening!

  When I pout from my frustrations, he kisses me chastely and shakes his head.

  “Yeah, hot shot, you got nothing. The tour should be the last thing you worry about.”

  “I can’t help it,” I respond petulantly.

  This tour was going to be such a pivotal event in our lives. Not having the stress from the last one following us this time, being more comfortable in our rock star skins, having found fame and becoming more popular every day, all make for the ingredients of an epic tour. Pregnancy does not fit well in this recipe and is the last thing I want to happen while we cross the country. On the contrary, there is no way in hell I’m canceling.

  Damn it!

  “We leave in a month,” he counters. “You can still have this morning sickness.”

  “I’ll eat a lot of crackers.”

  “Lei, it’s a short tour.”

  “Exactly…it’s a short tour.”

  “We can postpone it,” his tone becoming short and annoyed.

  “No way! I’ll go without you.” I finally think of a rebuttal, although a lame one.

  “Really?” he smirks.

  “Yep.” He openly laughs at me, spurring me on further. “I’m serious.”

  “How about we see if you are pregnant first, before you start one of your typical freak-outs?” I stick my tongue out, which he grabs it in between his fingers and tugs.

  “Will you be ok here while I run to the drug store?”

  I nod distractedly, consumed with the possibility that I could be pregnant.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m only going up the block. I’m fine.” After a kiss on my forehead, my husband practically skips through the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I’m torn. Of course I want kids with Jack, but is this a good time? We’re still newlyweds. Next week is our first anniversary. We’ve been so busy, the last year has been a blur.

  We were all exhausted, when we got home from touring. For me, it was more of a mental exhaustion than a physical one. The whole Danny and Jessa debacle wiped me out. Once home, I couldn’t get past the “what ifs.” What if Jessa had succeeded in ruining Jack’s career? What if the baby had been his? What if Danny had succeeded in harming me or killing me? What if Danny had been successful in getting to Jack instead?

  I forced myself to stop that line of thinking. I forced myself to enjoy every minute of my life, because I had so much to be grateful for. Between my marriage, my career, and my success, I refused to g
ive that fucker any more power. He tried and failed. He wasn’t going to seize my happiness. Our success has been great, and I refuse to be neurotically worried, forever looking over my shoulder. He’s in jail, and we need to move on. Jack and I do not agree on this subject. He says security is a must and will do everything in his power to ensure we are safe.

  A few weeks after our return, Bayou Stix invited us to guest appear during their concert at Madison Square Garden in New York City. We were blown away. Bayou Stix, one of the hottest rock bands ever created, wanted us to perform at their show. They caught our show at The House of Blues in Baton Rouge last fall. They were impressed and invited us to share the stage with them. We even hung out afterwards and partied until dawn. During the after party, Oscar made friends with their security team. He now runs his own company and is always looking for ways to improve. The men of Steele Security were the best around. They looked like male models on steroids. Gorgeous does not begin to describe Reaper, Bull, Shadow, or Rebel...their nicknames were also hot as hell. Jack caught me gawking at Bull a few times during the after party, raising an eyebrow at me disapprovingly. I wasn’t the only one. They had as many girls fawning over them, as did the rock stars that were mulling around in the room.

  The Bayou Stix show was the beginning of several surreal events that occurred for us. Between planning our wedding, the Rolling Stone cover article, and being inundated with countless interviews, before I blinked it was June and I was marrying the man of my dreams.

  When we got back from our honeymoon, just as I predicted, I couldn’t control the beast. I had an insatiable need for him physically. I was grumpy whenever we had to leave our apartment, which was often due to studio time and basically living our lives. It was also a contradiction to how happy I felt. Actually, happy isn’t adequate enough of a description. I was on cloud-fucking-nine-off-the-wall-ecstatic. So when some of our friends mistook my grumpiness as unhappiness, specifically Lori, it pissed me off even further.