She chuckled, shaking her head at the ridiculous thought. Yeah, she was a complete hypocrite, wasn’t she?
“What are you laughing at with such a mocking tone?” Samuel’s voice came from the other side of the table.
She looked up from the fruit platter he’d ordered for room service a little over thirty minutes ago and gave him a small smile. “I was thinking how quickly I’ve succumbed to the decadence of your lifestyle.”
He raised his eyebrows, the edges of his lips twitching. “Is that right? Will you be wearing nothing but black leather soon?”
Lily snorted, casting the hotel-supplied fluffy white robe she wore a quick glance. “Black leather or white toweling? Hmmm, let me think…”
Samuel laughed. He too was dressed in a white robe. Lily had thought he’d look ridiculous in something so not rock and roll, but she’d been wrong. The pristine white toweling only served to highlight the bronzed perfection of his muscular frame, only emphasized how strikingly blue his eyes were. How white his teeth were. “I’ll get you in black leather yet,” he said, lifting his coffee. “Even if it’s only a black leather G-string.”
Lily’s belly flip-flopped at the idea of wearing a thong, let alone a leather one. She’d never worn such a garment, but if Samuel asked her to…
A heavy weight wrapped her chest and she swallowed at the sudden lump in her throat. Oh boy, she was in trouble.
She plucked another strawberry from the platter and turned it over in her fingers, her pulse quick. “Samuel…” she began, unsure how to say what she needed to say.
And she did need to say it. Before her stupid heart took over and she didn’t.
“Y’know,” he said, studying her with a warm smile, “you call me Sam during sex. Not Samuel. Sam. What’s that mean, do you think?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, his observation making her even more unnerved. She didn’t know what it meant, but something told her it had to do with her stupid, foolish, romantic heart. “Samuel,” she repeated, placing the strawberry onto her plate. “This can only be sex. And only today. It’s not anything else. It can’t be.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
She let out a rough breath and picked up the strawberry again. “Because you are…what you are. And I’m…”
“Scared?”
Lily frowned at the confronting word. “A realist,” she answered, returning the strawberry to her plate before folding her arms over her chest.
Samuel watched her, his expression contemplative. “Eugene told me this morning why you hate the whole rock scene so much.”
Lily stiffened. She crossed her legs, aware she’d also tilted her chin. “Did he now? And why do I hate the whole rock scene so much?”
“Because you grew up watching your parents’ addiction to performing eat away at their souls and their dreams. You spent nights without heat because they couldn’t afford to pay the electricity bill, even as your mother bought new costumes for every audition she went to and paid for Eugene’s guitar and singing lessons. You grew up watching your father spend almost every waking minute being someone he wasn’t and forgetting most of the time he had two kids who ached for his attention.”
Lily’s heart clenched at her bleak childhood laid so bare before her in such simple words. “Is that all that Gene told you?”
Samuel let out a soft breath, shaking his head. “No, he was pretty forthcoming about his own existence. How you’ve dragged him from parties drunk or off his face after gigs. How you came home from college and found him in your bed shagging a fan of Zombie Grill because he’d puked in his own. That was the catalyst for you moving out of the family home, wasn’t it? And then you spent almost every night the band performed waiting for the phone call.”
“Which phone call?” Lily asked, her voice a cracked whisper.
“The one from the police. The one from the club owner. The one from Eugene himself. The call that would tell you he’d partied too hard again and needed someone to stop him from destroying himself on drugs and booze and sex.”
Pain shot through Lily’s chest. She stared at the ceiling, the memory of every phone call she’d ever received about or from her twin scraping at her. “Every time Zombie Grill took a step forward,” she whispered, “every time they’d land a recording contract, he’d glow with energy. And then he’d throw himself into the whole scene. He’d buy into the bullshit and it would all fuck up. He’s usually had some hit of something before he walks onto the stage, no matter how small the gig. He says it’s to calm his nerves, but it’s not. Not any more at least.” She returned her attention to Samuel, her heart aching. “He’s such a talented musician. You have no idea how talented he is. No one does. I don’t think even Mom and Dad know, no matter how much they favored him.”
Samuel frowned. “Does that make you jealous?”
She toyed with the strawberry, studying it with unfocused intensity. “No. Not at all. I know what they love and I know what they want. And I don’t hate them for that. I just never…got it. The whole performing scene.” She laughed, a wry snort she felt deep in her soul. “It didn’t help the musical gene skipped me. You should have seen how mortified they were the first time they came to watch me sing at the school talent quest when I was six. Even now, I’m sure they wonder if their real daughter was swapped at the hospital. I’m convinced they believe there’s a twenty-six-year-old musical genius singing and dancing and winning awards and fame out there in the world who is their real daughter, and I’m just the one they got lumped with.”
She laughed again, the old joke—one she’d never vocalized to anyone—filling her with the same conflicted joy it always did. She loved her mom and dad. She really did. As much as she loved her twin. She wouldn’t swap them for anything. Even when her heart ached.
She smiled at Samuel, wanting him to see how okay she was with her parents’ favoritism of her brother. “I can’t sing. In fact, to be honest, I think I’m tone deaf. There’s no hope I’ll be able to play an instrument of any sort. Mom and Dad accepted that a long time ago. So did I.”
Without a word, or warning, Samuel jolted to his feet.
Lily blinked, flinching at his abrupt move. “What’s wrong?”
He held up a finger, a grin playing at his lips. “Hold that thought.”
Before she could ask him what on earth he was doing, he ran from the table to the other side of the suite.
His robe billowed behind him for a second and then fell from his shoulders completely. He didn’t stop.
Lily couldn’t stop her chortle. She was watching a world famous rock star run buck naked across a hotel suite she’d never in her entire life be able to afford to stay for a night. If it wasn’t for the fact her body still thrummed from their lovemaking only a few moments earlier, she’d be half-convinced she was dreaming.
When he spun back to her, guitar in hand, she didn’t know whether to laugh at the boyish excitement on his face or blush at his utter comfort at being naked. As it was, she had a hard time not staring at his cock as he made his way back to her.
That was, until he stopped directly before her and held the guitar out to her. She frowned, first at the beautiful musical instrument and then up at him. “What’s this?”
“A guitar.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can see that. Why are you handing it to me?”
He grinned. “I bought it for you on our very first day together. At the shop for left-handers. It’s a left-handed guitar.”
“Why did you buy me a left-handed guitar?”
He shrugged. “You hated me. Didn’t want anything to do with me. I thought if I bought you a present…” He shrugged again, which Lily found very distracting given he was naked. God, she could look at him forever and never tire of his—
“It was a left-handed guitar or a Ferrari.”
She blinked at his statement. “A Ferrari?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re more an Aston Martin girl?”
Lily couldn
’t find a word to say.
Samuel laughed. “Kidding. Kidding.” He shoved the guitar at her. “Take it. It’ll give you something to hit me with later when I put my leather back on and you remember you hate me.”
She pulled a face, letting out a wobbly breath as she took the offered guitar with tentative hands. “I don’t hate you,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze on the instrument.
“You just can’t stand the idea of me, right?”
Tracing one of the strings with her index finger, she lifted one shoulder. “Well, there is that.”
Samuel snorted out a laugh. “Okay, Ms. Pearce, on your feet.”
She flicked him a look, once again aware he was naked. “Why?”
He reached for her right wrist and tugged her to her feet. “Because I’m going to teach you how to play the guitar.”
Lily’s mouth fell open. And then her breath caught when he unknotted the tie of her robe and shucked the garment from her body.
She swallowed, letting him take the guitar for the short second required to slip her arm free of the robe’s sleeve. “And you’re undressing me because?” she asked, her throat tight.
He handed the guitar back to her, his blue eyes dancing. “It’s the best way to learn.”
With a grin, he pulled her to the bed, directed her to perch on the end with her feet on the floor and then he climbed onto the mattress behind her. Pressing his chest to her back, he reached around her body and positioned her hands where he wanted them, her left on the strings in front of the guitar’s sound hole, the right high up the instrument’s neck. His lips brushed the curve of her shoulder, his breath a warm tickle on her skin. His cock nudged the base of her spine. “Let’s give this a whirl, shall we?”
Twenty minutes later, both in fits of laughter, Lily shook her head and held the guitar by its neck away from her body. “No more.” She shook her head, leaning back into Samuel’s hard chest. “No more.”
He took the guitar from her and placed it on the bed beside them. “You’re right,” he said with a chuckle. “You really can’t play a note, can you?”
She nudged him with her elbow, tossing him a grin over her shoulder. “I told you. But then who could on that thing? It’s backward.”
He shifted closer to her, smoothing his palms over her hips to lace his fingers over her belly button. “You’re not left-handed?”
Lily twisted in his embrace enough to give him a sideways frown. “No.”
“Then why were we in the left-handed store?”
She pulled an exasperated expression. “You wanted to do touristy things, remember?”
Samuel rolled his eyes. “Oh, man.”
Catching her bottom lip with her teeth, she shot the guitar a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
He leant back onto his elbows, swung his leg over her head—with a little grunt Lily felt certain was for dramatics—and then moved to sit beside her. “No worries,” he said, picking up the guitar and threading its ornate strap over his head. He plucked out a few notes, his head cocked to the side. “It’s got a good sound.”
Lily watched him, her heart quickening. Goddamn it, he looked sexy. She’d never used the word before he came along. It always felt cheesy, clichéd, but Samuel…well, he was all sorts of sexy. “You can play it?” she asked, forcing her focus to his face. The notes were forming a tune she recognized. A tune she’d first heard him humming on the yacht the night before. “Even though you’re not left handed?”
He played some more, closing his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. When it comes to this…playing…” His fingers danced over the strings, drawing a raw beauty from the guitar Lily didn’t think possible. The rhythm grew stronger, more haunted.
Lily sat motionless beside him, her heart pounding, her belly fluttering, as he played the chorus of Lily’s song. She’d been wrong. Sexy wasn’t the word to describe him.
He was amazing. Exquisite.
Wonderful.
“You’re incredible, Samuel Gibson,” she murmured, unable to contain the truth swelling through her any longer. “I’ve never been so wrong about anyone.”
He opened his eyes, his fingers growing still. Silence filled the suite. His gaze held hers. “Do you remember when I said earlier I wasn’t meant to say I love you yet?”
She nodded, every nerve ending, every fiber of her body thrumming.
He removed the guitar strap from around his shoulder and placed the instrument on the bed behind him, all without looking anywhere else but into her eyes. “This is the perfect moment to say it,” he whispered.
He reached up with one hand to cup her face in his palm, lowering his head until his lips brushed hers.
The kiss was tender. There was no other word for it. His lips barely caressed hers, and yet Lily’s entire body and soul responded to the touch. Her nipples grew tight, her breasts grew heavy and round. The knot of tension deep in her core she’d never experienced until Samuel entered her life twisted into an exquisite bloom of eager need and anticipation.
She sighed, closed her eyes and parted her lips, inviting his tongue to find hers.
It did, a gentle stroke, almost hesitant.
Lily groaned. She didn’t want a hesitant kiss. She never wanted Sam hesitant. With her, he had no need. She was his and would be so for as long as he wanted. No matter how much she’d fought that notion over the last week. The paramedic and the rock star. A match made in the pages of a romance novel.
If that’s what she was living now, then she would live it. Utterly and totally. Until the last page turned.
She pushed herself from the end of the bed, straddled Samuel’s hips and sat on his thighs.
He moaned into her mouth, his cock nudging her pussy as he smoothed his palms up her back, into her hair.
Lily rolled her hips forward, grinding her sex to his erection. Her head spun. Her heart raced. She deepened the kiss, desperate for everything Samuel was. Aching for everything he had to give her.
His cock jerked between their bodies again, pressing to her spread folds. His flesh was warm on her pussy lips, a steely insistence that made her belly clench.
Lordy, she wanted all of him, including his heart. How could she have let herself fall so—
In one fluid move, Samuel flipped her onto her back and pressed her to the bed, covering her in his long, hard body.
His lips ravished hers, his hands sought hers out, snared them, pinned them to the mattress beside her head. Their fingers threaded as their palms came together.
Lily died in the maelstrom of pleasure the change of position awoke in her core. There was possession in his embrace, the way his hands took total control of hers, the way his rigid erection fit so perfectly against the seam of her sex. The way his heart slammed in rhythm with hers, the two thumping organs separated from each other only by Lily’s and Samuel’s flesh and blood.
She moaned, her head spinning once more, her soul on fire.
Samuel echoed the delirious sound, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth before exploring her chin, her jaw. He covered her face in tiny kisses, each one telling Lily how much he craved her, hungered her. She whimpered, and again when he traced the inner shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. How was it that he made a contact she’d never enjoyed previously something wickedly delicious? How did he do that?
“Sam…” she whispered. Nothing else followed his name. Her mind had lost its ability to function beyond the acceptance of the pleasure he awoke in her.
He journeyed his lips down her throat, across her collarbone. To her breasts. He worshipped each one with long, languid sucks of her nipples, teasing bites of her flesh.
All the while, his hands still held hers as if he never wanted to let her go.
God, if only that were the—
Samuel slid back up her body to reclaim her lips, the move pressing the tip of his cock to her folds. Parting them.
Lily whimpered into his mouth, the velvet penetration of his condom-free erection propelling her close to an edg
e she didn’t want to fall over yet. She rolled her head to the side, breaking the kiss, her breath ragged. “Sam,” she panted, the glorious touch of his unadorned cock dipped into her sex almost too much to bear, “you’re not wearing… Oh God, you’re so close…inside me…no condom…”
With a growl, Samuel withdrew. Pulled away from her.
A raw cry of wretched dismay burst from Lily, the absence of Samuel’s flesh in hers too torturous. She wanted him inside her. Unprotected. Pure.
But couldn’t. Not yet. He was a rock star, famous for his long line of groupies. As much as she wanted to feel his flesh slide into her body, rational thought demanded they use protection.
And yet her heart, her very soul, told her it wasn’t necessary.
She shucked herself up onto her elbows to tell him such a thing, to apologize, only to find him watching her from the end of the bed, his blue eyes ablaze with lust as he tossed his wallet over his shoulder.
In his fingers was another square of brightly colored foil.
He didn’t say anything as he ripped the small packet open and covered his tattooed shaft with a shield of silicon the color of midnight.
He watched her, nostrils flaring, chest heaving.
Lily licked her lips, wishing she had the courage to tell him the prophylactic could go to hell. She didn’t want it. But the courage failed her.
“One day, Lily,” he said, his voice a smooth, deep caress, “I will make love to you without anything between us. Do you understand?”
Mouth dry, she nodded.
He climbed onto the bed, hovering above her for a moment, holding his weight with his hands and knees as the heat from his body seeped into hers. “I love you, Lily. I know you think I don’t. I know you think it’s ridiculous to believe after only such a short time love could happen. And I know who I am, what I am, still messes with your head, but I love you. And I want to show you just how much.”
A hot lump filled Lily’s throat at his words. She could barely breathe.
And then, before she could find her voice, he slowly lowered his body over hers and captured her mouth with his.
He made love to her. There was no other word for it. Love. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. He covered her body with reverent kisses, slow caresses. He smoothed his palms over her ribcage, her hips, her inner thighs. He trailed a nibbling path down her belly to her sex, tasting the moisture pooling between her legs with gentle laps before returning to her breasts and lips.
Lead Me On Page 12
