by Violet Paige
Eight
Alexa
The driver pulled up in front of Luke’s house. “We’re here,” he announced.
I wasn’t quite ready to get out of the car yet. I fidgeted with my purse and looked outside at the ranch-style home. So this is where Austin’s most infamous quarterback lived? We were far from the city and I looked out of the window, noticing you could actually see the stars in the sky. The front porch light drew moths the size of Texas to its glow.
Did I actually have the nerve to go through with this? It was a drink. He said drinks. Just drinks. I remembered the look in his eyes. The promise of sex practically dripped off his entire body.
It didn’t help that I had baited him into outbidding every man at the benefit tonight for a private concert with me. At the time it seemed playful. It was a way to get back at Jake’s constant pestering. Maybe it had started as the act of a petulant child, but now ... sitting outside of his house there was nothing childish about this.
I could even excuse what I did as charitable, but I wasn’t sure that’s how Luke would see it. I’d never met someone with more testosterone running through his veins than that man. He was determined to win. Determined to show everyone that he could win me.
He wasn’t a singer or an actor. There was no art in what he did. He was an athlete. A competitor. A full-blown conditioned machine who easily brought in as many fans as I did. I realized that might be the only thing we had in common.
“Ma’am?” The driver seemed impatient. It was after midnight. He probably wanted to head back to the city. “This is the address.”
“Right,” I answered. “Thank you.”
I could do this. I wanted to do this.
I stepped out of the car and walked up the stone steps to the front entrance. The Warriors team symbol was carved into the massive wooden doors. I knocked lightly, debating how badly I wanted to go through with this.
The door whipped open and Luke smiled at me.
“You made it.” He even had perfect white teeth. Damn it. Every ounce of him was sexy.
“I did.”
He looked over my shoulder. “Hold on.” He jogged down the stairs and I saw the driver roll down the passenger window. I didn’t know what Luke said to him, but he drove away, heading in the direction of the city.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t say anything about our meeting. I gave him a generous tip to return in the morning.”
“The morning?” I was struggling to stay calm. He had finally made his intentions absolutely clear.
But the instant I heard it roll off his lips, I felt a deep flutter in my core and my heart started to race. We both knew why I was here in the middle of the night. I was aching for a night like this. God, I needed it.
“Want to come inside?” he offered.
“Yeah, I’d like to see how a football bachelor lives.”
He chuckled over his shoulder. “Like any other bachelor.”
I realized that there was something charming about Luke Canton. He wasn’t just an egotistical football stud, there was humor there. Under the layers of his tough exterior he could be persuasive. He could be seductive. He could maybe even be sweet. I was probably giving him too much credit, but I saw little snippets here and there in his voice, or in the way he guided me through the hospital or here at his house. He wasn’t all about himself. He only wanted me to think that.
I was starting to think that was his brand. Tough. Heartless. Selfish. Who was I to judge? I was here for one reason—to get something I needed. I was the selfish one.
I looked around at the leather sofa and chairs. The flat screen TVs. The saddle mounted over the mantle. This was a Texas man’s dream ranch, complete with an enormous stone fireplace that climbed to the ceiling. I doubted many other bachelors had this kind of lifestyle. Luke picked up a remote and manipulated the lights, the fireplace, and the speakers built into the wall.
“I like the music.” I recognized the song. It was a Texas tune that didn’t get much airplay in the Nashville circuit. The guy was known as a renegade. But he wrote his own music and recorded with his own band. That was practically unheard of in Nashville.
“Thanks. He speaks my language.”
“And I guess my music doesn’t?” I tilted my head sideways. Luke didn’t exactly fit my demographic. He wasn’t a sixteen-year-old girl.
“When you start singing about beer and football and women, then you’ll be speaking my language.”
The women part was out, but I wanted to tell him I wanted songs like this one. Songs that felt gritty and raw. Songs that reminded people of something they had lost—something they were looking for. The music I sang when no one was listening. I wanted people to hear what I really had to say. I had notebooks and journals filled with songs I wanted to record.
“So, basically caveman speak,” I sassed.
“Funny.” He chuckled. “Just when I think you’re sweet, you turn into a wicked little thing.”
He walked over to the bar in the corner. The sides were a deep mahogany and there was a line of barstools covered in black and white cow hide. It looked as if he had every kind of liquor imaginable. It made me wonder how much entertaining he did. I had to remind myself I wasn’t here to dispel rumors about him, or even get to know him. I was here for me. I was here because of what I needed. And Luke Canton was the man who could give it to me.
“Bourbon okay?” he asked.
“Sounds good.” I wasn’t a bourbon girl. I was a vodka girl, but I didn’t drink much before shows. Alcohol made my voice do funny things. I didn’t have any performances planned. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt.
He handed the drink to me and I studied his eyes. There were light flecks of green. He had changed out of his tux and was wearing a shirt that pulled across his chest. His biceps stretched the material around his arms. He had added a pair of jeans. I didn’t know which one made him look hotter. All I knew was that he was unreal. Men like this didn’t exist. At least I hadn’t met one before.
I gulped the sweet bourbon and felt the burn slide down my throat. My limbs tingled and I felt loose in my shoulders.
“Do you have a game this weekend?” I asked. I didn’t exactly follow Warrior football.
“Almost every Sunday. This one is home.” He poured his glass half-full. “What about you? Are you still on tour?”
I guess neither of us knew much about the other’s career. “No. I wrapped up my summer stadium tour a few weeks ago. Now it’s press events before I’m back in the studio for the next album. Of course the holidays fall in there and I have a ton of bookings for Christmas shows and then there’s New Year’s Eve,” I rattled on longer than I intended.
“So this is your off-season?”
I grinned. “Yep. This is the so-called off-season. I don’t go on tour again until next summer.”
He took a sip of bourbon and I couldn’t look away as he swallowed. The tight muscles of his throat moved with each swallow. He licked his lips, and I was dying to see what they would taste like coated in the thick liquor.
Luke grabbed the empty glass from my hand, startling me from my obsession with his lips. “Want to tell me what a good girl like you is doing here?”
His glass was empty too and his hands were free to move to my hips. I froze as he coasted his hands to my ass and dragged me against his body. He was solid and firm. He was a wall of muscle on top of muscle.
“Who said I was a good girl?” I looked into his green eyes. There was mischief there. Playfulness. And a hunger that said he might fucking devour me on the spot.
“Everyone says that.” He cupped my ass, gripping tighter.
“And you? Are you really a bad boy? Or is that just a way to keep your love-hate relationship with the press hot and heavy?” I teased.
I saw the seriousness in his eyes. The intensity as he zeroed in on me. “Everything you’ve heard is true. It’s not an act. I live my life wide-open. N
o regrets. You should know that.”
“Interesting philosophy.”
“And what’s yours? Love and peace?” he taunted. “Good always triumphs?”
“That’s my image, yes.” I didn’t know why it seemed so important to strip all of that away. I wanted him to see me bare. “But I believe it too. I believe in kindness in people. Love. All of that.”
“I can tell that about you.” His brow furrowed.
I tiptoed away from him, still feeling the indentations on my ass where his fingers had been. I walked around the room, observing Luke’s collection of pictures and football memorabilia.
“You can? How?” I wanted to know. I wanted him to tell me how he had come to the conclusion that I was the same good girl everyone else saw.
He sat on the edge of the sofa. “The way you sing.”
I forgot the picture of him with his arm wrapped around another guy in a uniform and looked at him. “Really? One concert and you know that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. But I felt it. I doubt people say that when they see me perform.”
He had my interest. “So the game is a performance? It’s all a show?”
“The game is my life.” His voice hardened. “But I know the fans go to see a show. They want the same thing your fans want. They want to feel something. They want to feel the thrill of winning. They want to feel like they’re a part of something bigger than they are. Why else do people love football so much? Everyone’s a damn expert. Men who have never picked up a ball suddenly know what call I should have made last week.” He paused. “Everyone thinks they know the sport better. And it brings people together. They unite against us. They unite to support us. It makes them feel like they belong.”
My eyebrows rose. “And you think that’s the same as me singing on stage?”
“I saw it tonight. I saw how people responded to you. They want a piece of you. Even that manager of yours. They want to be a part of something bigger—your life—your music—your victories.”
I turned again to the bookcase. Everything on these shelves was related to football. Luke had summed it up.
“My wins are wins for my team.” I picked up frame. “If I have a number one hit then everyone has that hit. The writers, the musicians, the marketing staff, the roadies. It’s exactly like that. And the fans.” I spun on my heels. “The fans feel the win too. Because they know they gave it to me. They made me. They paid for that number one song, so somehow I belong to them.”
Luke was looking at me. I didn’t know him well enough to know what he was thinking, only that we had threaded football and country music together with undeniable lines of heavy cord.
“What do you want fans to think of you when they see you perform?” I asked.
“They’ve already made up their minds about me. Doesn’t matter.” He refilled his glass.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Are you okay with belonging to your fans?” He turned the question back on me.
“Who is this?” I held up the picture, trying to change the subject. I hadn’t come here to feel trapped. I came here to be freed. Freed the way a man like Luke could release me.
Luke stood. “That is my brother, Linc. He used to play too.”
“Not anymore?”
“No. He blew out his ACL in college his senior year. It ruined his chances in the pros. After three surgeries he finally accepted he was done, but he’s my manager. A lot nicer than yours is too.” He grinned. “And he doesn’t give me shit about anything.”
“Jake has his days.” I didn’t want to remember him either. I was here to escape. Here to forget the chains and the ropes that kept me bound to him and my brand.
“That guy needs to find someone else to manage.”
“And you know something about the music business?”
Luke took the picture from my hand and placed it on the shelf. “I don’t know shit about the music business.”
The air felt thick between us. He would have kissed me backstage if that bumbling cellist hadn’t interrupted us. Now we were alone. No crew. No fans. No benefit guests. Just the two of us alone on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.
I thought about the blanket of stars outside covering the ranch. I thought about how I snuck out of my room to be here. I thought about how this tough, hard man had done everything he could to impress me tonight. And it worked. I was here, ready to fall into his hands.
His thumb ran along my bottom lip. I could hear the raspy voice singing through the speakers. There was so much anguish in the words I felt them pierce my heart. I looked into his eyes, wondering if he heard what I heard. Did the lyrics move him like this?
“Are you a fucking angel, Lexi Wilde?”
I shook my head. “No,” I whispered.
I swallowed hard. My chest heaved with breaths that were struggling to escape. He hitched one of my legs up to his waist and I bit my lip. I could feel him pressing against my thigh. His body wasn’t the only thing that was rock solid.
I moaned a little, the sensations starting to sink in. This was real. It was no longer how much I could dare myself, or how shameless Luke’s flirting was. I wasn’t talking myself into it anymore. I wasn’t pretending it could never happen. The warmth of his body was real. His hands holding me close. The look in his eyes. The intensity of his lust.
“I thought you might be.” He didn’t let go. He let me feel how solid every inch of him was.
“I’m not. Why would you say that?” I searched his eyes. I could barely speak. His hands held me with fire. His eyes with promises.
“When you walked onto that stage with the white lights and that voice … and then you winked at me.”
I giggled. “I did? I winked at you?”
He nodded. “Oh, you’re trying to tell me you weren’t flirting with me from stage?” His fingers dug against my curves and I groaned lightly.
“Not at all.” I shook my head. “I look at all the men like that.”
“Then maybe you are a devil.”
“Maybe I am.” I was almost shaking. Every muscle was tense with anticipation. Agonized with the need to be soothed.
“Want me to call the driver back?” He lowered his head so that his lips barely grazed over mine. I didn’t know how he could draw me in like this. I couldn’t look away. “Because there’s only one thing I want from you Lexi Wilde.”
“And what’s that?” I whispered.
“To fuck you until the sun comes up.” He said it boldly and flatly, but it set every nerve I had on fire. My core tightened involuntarily and I could almost hear the hammering of the blood in my veins.
He had the most beautiful dirty way with words.
“Oh my.”
“Tempted?” he asked.
I nodded my head. He had no idea how tempted I was. Why else did I sneak out of the hotel and drive here? Why did I give him my number? Why did I dare him to bid on a date for me? Why was I doing any of this? He made me lose my damn mind.
I wanted to break free so badly, I didn’t have control. I couldn’t control anything in my life, but I could control this. I could have this night with Luke and there wasn’t anyone to stop me.
Jake couldn’t tell me what to do. I could let my hair be wild. I could smear my makeup. My clothes could fall to the floor. It didn’t matter. It was all up to me. I wanted it so badly I could taste it. I could taste him.
“I don’t want to be the reason the good girl goes bad,” he growled into my hair.
My eyes lifted to his. “Who said you were the reason?”
His mouth crushed against mine as I inhaled the taste of bourbon off his tongue. His lips were only the beginning. I wanted to feel the rest of him. The broad planes of his chest. The strength in his shoulders. The ripples in his biceps. The roughness of his palms, sliding over my smooth skin. I wanted the entire Luke Canton experience from head to toe.
He wrapped my other leg around him, lifting me from the floor and walked down the hall, holding me clo
se. I clung to his neck, kissing him with reckless thirst. With every step he took, I knew I was leaving America’s Sweetheart in his living room and letting him peel back the layers of who I wanted to be.
I was in Austin for one night. By tomorrow afternoon I’d be on a plane back to Nashville. Tomorrow I could go back to being America’s perfect role model. I could hide my inner hellcat. Suffocate the sexiness I wanted to feel. Pretend nothing mattered more than the purity of heart my brand crammed down everyone’s throat, but for tonight I could let Luke give me what I really wanted.
A night where being bad was a good thing. A night when all that mattered was how sexy I could be. A night when I could let a hot bad boy fuck me like I deserved.
He carried me over the threshold of his bedroom and it was dark inside. I could make out large pieces of furniture, and an enormous bed. The blinds were closed, and I knew what was about to happen wouldn’t be something we’d want to share with the outside world. I could be completely free, feeling the protection of Luke’s world around me. The privacy of the ranch. The gated entrance. For the first time I realized how incredible it felt to have this layer of secrecy around us.
He swung around to a panel on the wall and tapped on the screen. The room glowed with dim orange lights.
“Candle light?” I searched his eyes.
“I want to see you,” he growled.
I felt the pit in my core seize with want at his naughty words. He wasn’t the only one. I wanted to see him too—every ounce of his ripped naked body. I didn’t care if it was electric or computerized light. It didn’t matter as long as I got to feast my eyes on him.
Luke dropped me in the center of the bed and crawled toward me. I felt like prey and the lion was prowling toward his kill. His teeth grazed over my collarbone.
My nails dug into his back, desperate to pull the shirt off of him. I tugged the edges, letting my nails drag over his skin as I freed him from the shirt.
I traced the lines of ink running up the side of his oblique. The symbols were interlaced in an intricate design, crawling across his taunt muscle. The tattoo started at his ribs and wrapped behind his back. I wanted to ask what it meant, but I dug into his skin instead, feeding my need to feel the heat of his body.
