“Yeah, that’s what I’m calling you. Go with it.” He adjusted her hand to take over the chord he’d shown her, his touch once again sending a spark of electricity straight to a spot between her thighs. “Keep going from there. I’m just going to…” He took his hand off of hers and began to pluck at her strings as she strummed, creating a counter melody.
They played like that through the rest of the song—Lacy strumming, Eli’s fingers dancing around her hand as it changed from chord to chord, their eyes locked as they sang in harmony. It was both the sweetest and strangest of Fleetwood Mac arrangements she’d ever played, let alone heard. The sound moved her, each new measure filling her creative well. Maybe it wasn’t A Best Day Ever, but it was A Most Inspiring Day Ever.
Whether it was the inspiration or the unbinding from Lance or the brush of Eli’s hand against hers or the intense way he looked at her as though he could see into her, Lacy couldn’t say, but regardless of what struck the mood, it was there, sweeping her away.
So when they’d finished their song, Lacy waited exactly two seconds before she set Lucky to the side and rose up to her knees. She wrapped her hands around Eli’s neck and kissed him.
Then, because the first taste of his lips was so pleasant, she did it again.
And again.
And then she realized Eli was kissing her back. Like, really kissing her back. His tongue stroked across the bottom of hers, teasing her mouth open wider, and she was happy to comply. Her hands tightened at his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body flush against his.
My, oh, my …
If Lacy had any doubt before whether or not Eli had been inspired by their evening as she was, she didn’t anymore. Because suddenly “inspiration” was poking her in the belly. She quit being tentative about her kisses then, if she’d even been tentative before, and let herself give in to the mood completely.
Eli was right with her. His mouth grew frantic on hers and his hands traveled down to caress her ass through her skirt. It was Lacy who took things further. Her fingers crawled beneath his shirt and up until her palms were spread along the taut muscles of his chest. Man, she hadn’t realized that Eli was so fit. With Lance, she’d been used to long, lean runner’s muscles. These were bulkier. Solid. She wondered how the soft of her breasts would feel against the hard of him.
Only one way to find out.
Lacy pulled away long enough to remove her shirt. She tossed it aside and noted Eli’s smile before she pushed him down to the ground.
And onto the pizza.
At least the box was closed. “Sorry! Sorry.” She laughed.
Eli laughed with her as he shoved the box aside. Then he pulled her down on top of him, his lips on her neck, and there were other sounds to make. Like “oohs” and “ahs” and “yes, right there.”
Eli licked and nipped down along her collarbone, and then lower. Over her bra. He tugged at her nipple through her bra until it stood tall while he tweaked its twin with his hand. Damn. She’d forgotten how good it felt just to have her breasts played with. Especially like this—a little rough and a whole lot new.
Lacy sat up, straddling Eli, to remove her bra.
“Wow, Songbird,” Eli said, his voice choked with awe. “You’ve been hiding.”
She blushed at his compliment, but she didn’t let herself get shy. As he palmed her bare breasts, she arched into his touch, enjoying it. Reveling in it.
Still, she wanted to feel her nipples against the skin of his chest. She tugged at his T-shirt, hinting.
“Yep,” he said, as if she’d spoken her request. “It’s going now.” He sat up and crossed his arms to pull it off.
And jabbed Lacy in the jaw with his elbow as he did so.
“Oh, shit! God, I’m sorry! Lacy, are you okay?” He cradled her chin with his hand then kissed it softly.
“I’m totally fine.” And she was. Especially now, because she had his bare chest in front of her to explore. Her fingertips traced the ink embedded in his skin. A raven, over his heart, held a tattered heart in its beak. The branch it was perched on scattered tiny leaves that turned into baby ravens as they flew across his torso. Her hands explored their path.
Then, what she’d been aching for, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts to his skin. The sensation of her soft breasts and pebbled nipples brushing against his rock-hard pecs sent shockwaves to her nether regions. Her mouth reclaimed his and they danced like that—their upper bodies melded together, their tongues tangled. Twisting and moving to a beat that was unheard, but felt by both of them.
Eli’s hands swept up and down along her bare back. Beneath her, his erection strained against her crotch. He leaned into each grind of her hips—and there were many. She couldn’t help herself. She was like a woman possessed, rubbing against his length in an attempt to ease the ache at her very core.
There was an easier way about this, she knew. But could they do that? Could she let him do that to her without being labeled as a tour-slut?
And did she really care?
Hell, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she was wet and yearning. Seriously, she was about to burst. And when Eli’s hands moved under her skirt and up her thighs, sliding slowly higher like a question, Lacy gave an answer. “Touch me.”
That’s all he needed. Eli’s fingers slipped up and past the elastic band at the leg hole of her panties, landing on her clit with firm, sure pressure. His stroke was confident and sincere as he circled her nub, setting her in flames.
“God, yes, yes,” she moaned against his lips. She bucked into his touch, wanting, needing more. Her fingernails dug into his back as her vision began to cloud and the muscles in her legs clenched.
“Fuck, Lacy, you’re killing me.” Eli slid a finger lower to circle the rim of her hole. “I want you so bad. Do you want me to make you come?”
“Yes, please!” She’d never begged for an orgasm, but she’d never wanted one so desperately as she did right now. Yet, she was also afraid—afraid that once she got the release she was aching for and her mind began to clear, she would rethink this whole adventure and want to leave. Afraid because that wouldn’t exactly be fair to Eli, who was so obviously wanting a release as well.
So she amended her plea. “But not like this. I want you inside me.”
His cock leapt against her and his eyes widened. “Are you…” his voice trailed off as if he couldn’t bear to ask if she were sure, in case she said no.
They were both half naked and, at least he, visibly aroused. Wasn’t it a little late to be asking? Lacy didn’t bother to point that out, however, saying simply, “If you have a condom, I’m more than sure.”
Eli chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’m a musician on tour. Of course I have a condom … even if I haven’t used one in a while.” He moved her off of him so he could scramble out of his jeans.
She giggled at his comment, especially because she was pretty certain Eli wasn’t the type to go cruising, but she was done by the time he’d finished flipping through his wallet to find a foil packet. Then she grew completely serious because Eli had pulled down his boxers and released the thing that had been teasing her for the better part of their make-out session.
And, wow, oh, wow.
Either she’d forgotten exactly what a cock looked like in the flesh or Eli was what they called “hung.” She bet it was probably a combination of both. Either way, it was impressive and her insides quivered with anticipation as Eli ripped the packet open and unrolled the condom along his thick length.
A shiver slid down her spine. This was happening—totally unforeseen and unplanned—and she was one hundred percent certain it was exactly what she wanted.
Which meant she should probably lose her own panties. Like now.
With another half giggle, Lacy stood and pushed her skirt and underwear down together. Eli watched her as she undressed, and her skin pinked from head to toe. It wasn’t that she was self-conscious about her body
, but the way he was looking at her—it was so appreciative. So filled with awe. As if he found the sight of her naked self extraordinary in some way.
It made her dizzy and giddy. It made her feel beautiful. It also made her even more eager to not only have him but to give herself to him.
She stepped one foot over him and lowered to her knees, once again straddling him as she hovered over his cock.
The melody that had been hiding just beneath her perception swelled within her as they moved together to join their bodies. The feel of him filling her set off sparklers in her nerve endings she had forgotten existed, if she’d ever known.
She kept her eyes open, kept her focus pinned on him as he moved inside her. All her senses were ignited. Her vision was drunk with the sight of his face, her body on fire everywhere they touched. The smell of his sweat mingled with hers. The salty taste of his skin lingered on her tongue.
And the music …
In her head spun fragments of a song. Words and phrases that hadn’t settled to make any sense but whirred around, dizzying her with their potential melody. It was there, ready to pluck from the air like ripe fruit on a low branch. In pieces, maybe, but a song nonetheless.
Eli quickened his pace, thrusting in and out of her now with abandon. Her nails dug into his shoulders, clutching to the song in her mind as she clutched to him. She could feel herself tightening and Eli’s drives slowed some as he pushed through.
When they came together, the notes in her head coalesced at the same time she fell apart. Gasping for air, they held each other while their heartbeats slowly returned to normal.
And once that happened, Lacy’s head was suddenly on straight. Her heart rate might be normal, but there would be nothing normal about this tour again.
They were quiet as Lacy gathered her clothes. She slipped on her blouse and skirt, and stuffed her panties and bra into her guitar case alongside Lucky. When she turned back to Eli, he’d pulled on his jeans, the button still undone at his waist. She didn’t look him in the eye. She couldn’t. She kept her focus on her feet as she slipped on her sandals then on her case as she flung it over her shoulder.
Then she headed for the door. Eli followed after her.
She paused, her hand on the knob, and cleared her throat. “Well, uh, thanks for…” For what, exactly? The music? The pizza? The quickie on the carpet? All of it, really, but saying any of it sounded silly.
“Hey,” Eli said, tilting her chin up with two fingers until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Let’s not do that awkward thing, okay? Not tonight. I had a good time.”
“I did too.”
“Then let’s focus on that.” He kissed her—slowly, sweetly—his thumb caressing her skin as he cradled her cheek. When he pulled away, he said. “We’ll deal with awkward tomorrow. Okay, Songbird?”
“Deal.” God, he was great. But her focus was already beyond him and on the song dancing in her head.
Lacy went to her room and crawled into her bed. Sleeping while a song brewed had always proved a good tactic. She’d wake up and have words and melody created in her dreams. She plugged in her phone next to her and set the alarm, not bothering to check if she’d missed any notifications from Folx. Reading a message from him now would be awkward. And she wasn’t dealing with awkward until tomorrow.
Chapter Eleven
Sometimes on tour, Eli woke up confused, a few seconds passing before he remembered where he was and why. It was the side effect of every day a different city, every night another bed. Similar was the stress of remembering his room number. Was he in three-twelve or was that the last hotel? More than once he’d stuck his key card in the wrong door, unsure when it didn’t work if he’d accidentally swiped it against something magnetic or if he’d gotten the wrong room. Again.
This morning he had no such confusion. Last night’s indiscretion crashed over him before he was even conscious of having woken. He was even pretty sure he’d been dreaming about Lacy—her mouth on his, her nipples rubbing against his skin. His dick was awake and at attention even before he opened his eyes.
He groaned.
He felt like an absolute shit.
Not surprising since that’s what he was—an absolute piece of shit. The list of reasons was unfurling like silk scarves from a magician’s sleeve—they just kept coming. Lacy, a woman he worked with, had opened up to him emotionally, and he’d gotten a hard-on. He’d missed his date with LoveCoda to bang a chick who’d cried on his shoulder. He’d disrespected not one, but two women with one sexual encounter. What kind of person was he?
He pulled his pillow over his head and screamed into it.
After a trip to the bathroom—not an easy task with his insistent morning wood—and a splash of cold water on his face, he returned to his room and looked around. Remnants of the night before lay all around him. Empty pop cans. His banjo abandoned on the floor. The smooshed pizza box. With another groan, he slumped on the couch and attempted to put some organization to his guilt.
Lacy Dawson wanted center stage in his thoughts. He was still half hard, and her presence was still alive in the room. The image of her sweet smile and warm touch tried to press in and remind him of how good she’d felt in his arms, but he shoved it away and focused on the heart of his regret instead—he’d cheated on Love.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he ran his fingers across his lids to pinch the bridge of his nose. His father had been that kind of asshole. The one who not only yelled and hit but had a woman on the side most of the time. Eli hated to have anything in common with his dad, and for the most part he succeeded. Until now, when he’d broken a vow he’d made to one woman for the silky heat of another.
So maybe the vow didn’t really count since he’d never said it—typed it—to LoveCoda, but it felt like it should. Because he’d made the vow in his heart. Was it any less to break a promise to himself than to someone else? And he’d wanted to keep this promise. It wasn’t like he’d cheated on his New Year’s resolutions that he really couldn’t give a flying fig about three weeks into the year. He’d broken a vow he’d wanted to be true to.
Yep. An absolute shit.
Then there wasn’t just the fact that he’d cheated on his girlfriend-who-didn’t-even-know-she-was-his-girlfriend. He’d also blown off their standing date. God, he hoped she wasn’t pissed. Or worried, more like it. She was the kind of girl who would be concerned over his well-being, rather than angry about a missed chat. She was officially too good for him.
Needing to toss something, he threw the couch pillow across the room and blew out a stream of curse words that would make his mother scold him.
Well, it wasn’t like he was going to tell her why he’d missed their date. He reached for his tablet and pulled up the chat.
Hey, you. I feel like a total asshole. Sorry I missed last night. Something came up, a friend needed help. I ended up falling asleep. Hope you slept well. Wow, he was really bad at this. Only one lie was needed. He deleted some words and rearranged some others. Then he added some xx’s at the end. He felt good about the x’s. Sending hugs was always a good thing. Or were the x’s kisses and the o’s hugs? He never could figure that out.
Whether kisses or hugs, it was appropriate. Probably. He pushed enter, and waited to feel marginally better.
It didn’t happen.
Something was nagging at him. Something more than the guilty voices shouting in his head.
He blinked at his screen. LoveCoda hadn’t written to him, either. He wasn’t the only one who missed the date. Strangely, this also failed to make him feel better. Now he was worried about her. Some irrational fear that she somehow knew what he had done pricked at him. What if she never logged on again? She might avoid him forever. She might even leave SoWriAn or adopt a new screen name just so she wouldn’t have to face him again. If she’d found another guy, he’d do the same thing.
God, he was an idiot.
He wouldn’t do the same thing. He’d stick it out and try to mend their re
lationship. He was a total romantic.
He was an idiot again, because she didn’t know. She couldn’t. And it didn’t really matter if she did, because the two of them were not dating. Not really. It just felt like it.
He threw himself back onto the bed again with a dramatic flair that Jax would have been proud of. If somehow Love did know—which she couldn’t, but if—then he was sure she’d judge him harshly.
Okay, that was idiotic too since she’d never given any indication of being any type of a judger.
Which only made him feel worse. She should judge him. She should decorate him with a scarlet A for “Asshole.”
What had he been thinking?
He could make up excuses. He’d just been going with the motion, for example. She was the one who’d chosen his bedroom. It wasn’t his fault she’d had those sad eyes and pouty lips.
The truth was Lacy Dawson was the coolest girl he’d met in ages. Playing music with her felt as natural as playing with his own band. That said something, since the Blue Hills had been together in various incarnations since sophomore year of high school. So he played with her, insisted they talk, pried into her personal life, passed harsh judgment on her dead fiancé, and then fucked her when she was most vulnerable.
And, man, had it been amazing. As in A.Maz.Ing.
Really, he should be castrated. That was the only fitting punishment at this point.
He glanced at the bedside clock and realized it was past time for him to get up. Sammy would be pounding on his door any minute. The days they weren’t traveling belonged to the band to do with as they pleased for the most part. Today they had a load in at the new venue later that morning, followed by sound check, and then they were free until the show. Lou, though, was a stickler for breakfasts. More specifically, he was a stickler for free breakfasts, and he encouraged his boys to take advantage when they were offered.
Eli pulled a worn tee and jeans on as slowly as he could, dreading the moment when he’d head down to the lobby and see Lacy. He’d told her last night they’d deal with awkward today. He was regretting that now that today was right this minute. She probably hated his guts now that she’d had a chance to think about it, although no one could possibly hate him more than he hated himself.
Love Struck Page 10
