by Cari Quinn
“No, she played Bennie with you. Lord, Weston, I haven’t had enough alcohol to deal with you at three in the morning.”
“You haven’t had any alcohol.”
“Exactly my point.”
West grinned and squeezed Lauren’s hand before motioning her ahead of him on the bus. “Your chariot awaits. Also, bathroom is in back, far right. If you want a shower, extra towels and some of Molly’s disposable slipper thingies are in the cabinet under the sink.”
“Oooh, you’re setting her off on a dangerous path already. You know how Molly is about—”
“Everything? Yes, I know. We all know. And she can deal. Go on,” West urged when Lauren hesitated on the bottom step.
“I don’t bite,” Denver said. “I just take good care of my boys and girls. Even when they’re assholes. Especially then, because I’m like their momma without the stretch marks. I love them the way no one else should.”
“You’re our age. How can you be their mother?” Lauren asked.
“Taking care is a state of mind, baby doll. Now go on back there and get cleaned up before Mal returns with his bimbo du jour. Or bimbos. He tends to like to use the bathroom for nefarious purposes.”
“Okay. Going. I really could use a quickie. Shower, I mean,” she added as Denver’s dark eyes gleamed.
“Sure, honey. They all come here just for the free water.”
She didn’t add run along now, but it was heavily implied.
“Denver, don’t be a dick.” West gave Lauren a nudge, shifting the pizza box under his other arm. “Ignore her. It’s a hazing ritual she does to anyone we bring home.”
“I’m okay with it. I realize probably most of the women you bring here aren’t virgins. Which I am,” Lauren informed Denver.
It was nothing to be ashamed of.
“Heard that before too. It’s a good line.” Denver went back to the folded magazine in her hand.
Lauren started to pass, stopping short as she realized Denver’s chosen periodical was on the pride of gun ownership.
Okay, so she took her mother hen duties seriously then.
“I’ll be right back,” Lauren told West, hurrying past a couple of side-by-side couches and a small circular dining table and the assorted crap that was part and parcel of a bunch of people living in a reasonably cramped space. She found the bathroom without trouble—also cramped, causing her to wonder how a guy the size of Mal even managed to pee in there, never mind accomplish nefarious sex acts—and hustled out of her shoes and clothes.
Clothes. Aww, fuck. She needed something to put on other than her concert wear.
Just as she was about to call out, a quick knock sounded at the door and West stuck his hand in. “T-shirt and boxers. Both will be big on you, but they’re clean.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, snatching them. He shut the door as soon as she took them.
Such a nice guy. Was that standard rockstar MO? It didn’t seem to be from what she’d seen and read.
Must’ve gotten lucky.
She stacked West’s clean clothes beside her dirty ones on the back of the commode and dug out a towel from the cabinet under the sink, as well as a pair of disposable slippers as West had mentioned. She threw them on the hamper beside the shower and stepped into the stall, pulling the opaque glass door shut and turning the water to blistering hot. In spite of her sweet pink jacket, she’d gotten a chill in her bones.
The bar of soap in the shower was white. Ivory. West’s scent. Mmm.
She used it and tried not to think about how many other bodies it had touched. She wasn’t a germaphobe, but a tour bus rang a few of her bells as far as hygiene. Denver had all but indicated the bus saw a revolving parade of women. Probably men too, since Warning Sign was half female.
Best not to think about random hookups. If she did, she’d start imagining West’s, and that was no bueno.
There were a couple bottles of shampoo to choose from but she went with the purple one. Had to be girly for sure. Freesia. She squirted some in her hand and lathered up, taking extra time to work it through to the ends.
This wasn’t primping. Exactly.
All right, it so was. She didn’t know what would happen with West tonight. Hell, she wasn’t even sure how much she wanted to occur. But her curiosity was rampant, and opportunities to make out with a guy like him didn’t come too often. No way was she missing out entirely.
If he could give her an orgasm, well, she was on board. She’d waited long enough.
When the hot water ran out, she dried off and picked up West’s clothes. She spent a good ninety seconds smelling his T-shirt like a bloodhound searching for clues. The scent of coffee and good clean soap clung to the material, and her skin buzzed with every sniff. She was almost certain the way to her heart was through her nose.
And this boy smelled fine.
Surprisingly comforted and finally warm thanks to the shower, she tugged on the top and bottom. She secured the baggy shirt in a knot at her waist and decided she’d just have to hold up the boxers. The paper slippers weren’t awesome, but they were way better than her wedges.
She finger-combed her hair and gave it up for a hopeless mess, just like the makeup she hadn’t been able to fully wash off. It didn’t feel right to dig through his female bandmates’ belongings to look for makeup remover, so she’d just have to rock the trashy raccoon on a rockstar’s tour bus look for a while longer.
As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, West’s lazy voice made her jump. “Feel better?” he asked, pulling himself away from the wall. He grabbed her pile of stuff. “I’ll take those.”
“Yes, so much. Thank you. Um, my shoes are in the bathroom. Can you just set them on fire?”
He chuckled. “You might need them later. Go on and sit down on the couch.”
She padded across the bus to the small living area, her paper slippers crackling as she walked. The TV positioned on the half wall was a good size considering the pair of couches weren’t huge. Priorities, she guessed. Sit on the floor if need be, but gotta have a big screen.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower myself. Be right out.”
“Okay. Hope you don’t mind cold water.”
“I need it. All good.”
She smiled, but as soon as he was gone, she bit her lip. Did he mean that he was hot? Or that he was hard? Both?
Hard would be an excellent thing.
West came out a few moments later and dropped down beside her. He’d taken his hair down from its man-bun and the wet blond ends skimmed the shoulders of his faded shirt, trailing water. His jaw was scruffy and he’d pulled on loose plaid pajama pants that made her imagine all kinds of things about what he was packing underneath.
Not that she was checking out his bulge. Okay, she so was. But who could blame her?
As if he wasn’t aware she was visually gobbling him down like a hot fudge sundae, he grabbed the remote from between two cushions and gave her one of his patented sidelong glances. “You clean up good, Lo.”
“You’re not so bad yourself. And ha, yeah, right. Ignore the smeared makeup.”
“I don’t see any.”
Slowly, he leaned in, filling up her field of vision so that his heavily fringed eyes and quirked lips became her world. Then they were on hers, gently opening her up to the seductive slide of his tongue. He didn’t rush, didn’t press. Just kissed her as if he had a lifetime to do nothing but that, one hand slipping around to cup the back of her head while the other spanned her cheek.
She curled against him, wrapping her hands around his corded shoulders. Touching him through the cotton wasn’t enough so she brushed her fingers along the side of his neck and he groaned, the sound pouring into her mouth.
“Your hands on me feel incredible.” He eased back enough to glance down between them. Her breasts pressed against his chest, full and straining through his shirt. “All of you against me feels incredible.”
“Yes.” It was all she could say, and wh
en she chanced another glance at his lap, there was no mistaking the rigid column now tenting his pants.
Whoa. Yeah, this was no boy.
Wetting her lips, she shifted and pressed her thighs together. He noticed the move and rubbed his thumb over her damp lower lip. “I bet you’re getting my boxers wet.”
Silently, she nodded, unsure if she should be embarrassed or pleased. His pupils widened and he tipped back his head, blowing out a long breath that expanded his chest. “Find something on TV.”
She took the remote he held out and sat back, more disappointed than she could have explained. She was supposed to be researching fan behavior and the secret life of rockstars tonight, not trying to get some action. That wasn’t her. In fact, she’d resigned herself years ago to probably ending up as the last living virgin on the planet. She was too fussy, and the usual guy she went out with a time or two left her cold when they went in for the grab-and-grope.
But not West. He just looked at her and she burned. Even now, as she channel-surfed without really seeing anything on the screen, her lips tingled from his. She couldn’t stop from touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth just to taste a little more of his toothpaste, minty and fresh. Her nipples were so tight they hurt, and between her legs, she was soaked and achy.
She’d never been this wound up even the few times she’d tried to bring herself to orgasm with her own fingers. Tried and failed.
“Don’t do that,” he murmured, making her glance sharply at him. “Don’t sit there looking wounded when it’s fucking killing me not to drag you on my lap to see exactly how wet you are for me.”
“Why? I’m not stopping you.” God, she hated that pout in her voice.
“No, I’m stopping me. Because you deserve more than this, and I know it even if you don’t.”
She wanted to argue. To tell him he didn’t know her mind better than she did, even if she appreciated his efforts to be a gentleman. Yesterday, she might have wanted that. Sex still made her wary, mostly because she’d never felt that chemical reaction that all the books and Tumblr clips had indicated was normal and natural.
Until tonight. Was it any wonder she was having trouble remembering why she’d stalked his band in the first place? It was hard to think of anything else but him and feeling…more. More of what she’d experienced that night. Not just desire. The yearning to be closer to someone. To touch them, to make them smile.
She wasn’t used to any of those things with a man who wasn’t Ethan, and even then, her feelings for her best friend were miles different than what she felt for West. So much different than what she’d felt for anyone, and she’d known West just for a few hours.
Scary.
Intoxicating.
So overwhelming.
“Let me go heat up that pizza,” he said after a moment. “I could go for a snack. How about you?”
He took off before she could reply.
Sighing heavily, she braced her foot on the coffee table and changed channels, stopping on Friends. She could go for some Ross and Rachel. Maybe then she’d laugh at the show and not her own predicament.
In spite of herself, the rerun quickly sucked her in. She found herself laughing along just as she always did, though she’d seen this episode with Ross’s leather pants a million times. Didn’t matter. She grinned up at West as he brought back two paper plates with steaming pizza, and he stopped and stared at her as if she’d morphed into a unicorn right in front of his eyes.
“What?” she asked, instantly on guard.
“Nothing.” He shook his head and sat down beside her, sliding the other paper plate on her lap. “Friends, huh? One of my favorites. Damn, son, never wear leather pants on a first date. Or any date. No one likes roasted nuts.”
She giggled and picked up a piece of pepperoni, stuffing it in her mouth. She’d no sooner swallowed it that she thought that might be a deterrent to more making out, but then again, West was plowing through his slice beside her so he wouldn’t judge.
Maybe making out wasn’t even on the table anymore. West was a nice guy who didn’t want to take advantage. She appreciated that so much, but at the same time, she was kind of overdue. At this point, it wasn’t so much taking advantage as helping a girl out.
As difficult as it was, she focused on the show. It was easy enough to relax and laugh with West, almost as if they’d known each other for years. Ignoring the sexual tension between them, he already felt like a friend. Someone she could trust. He might nudge her past her boundaries, but at a speed that felt safe.
The rerun went into another, this one the Thanksgiving episode. West knew that one too, and agreed that Brad Pitt had been pretty hot back then. Still hot, but super hot in the old days. He didn’t even blink at agreeing either. Clearly, West was totally at ease with his sexuality. As well he should be.
Golden Girls was up next, and she expected him to change the channel. Instead he tossed out their paper plates and stretched out beside her, extending his long legs into the aisle as he draped his arm around her shoulders to toy with her hair. It wasn’t a move meant to seduce—at least she didn’t think so—but she was instantly watchful. She sat up straighter, not so subtly pushing out her breasts. She didn’t have to do much. West flipping through the ends of her still wet hair had her nipples hardening in a flash.
Other things were happening too. She was wet all over, and not just from the remnants of her shower.
When he pulled her into his side, almost encouraging her to cuddle, she gave in to the urge to touch his chest. Tentatively at first, then with growing boldness. The contours of his muscles felt good under the cotton, but she wanted, needed, more. Still pretending to be focused on the TV, she dipped her hand underneath the fabric, easing her fingertip into the slash of his belly button before climbing higher. Fanning out her fingers to stroke all that hot, hair-roughened skin.
Gently, he tugged her head back by her hair, bringing her mouth to his. This time, he took it harder, took her harder, his tongue delving between her lips with a sureness that stole the last of her reservations.
He knew what he was doing. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d botch this. She was almost positive she wouldn’t either. Not when her movements were this instinctive. This right.
Without stopping the kiss, he rolled just enough so that she was pinned beneath him against the back of the sofa. His heavy lids lifting, that trusting green somehow seeking permission before he molded his lips to her again and his hands wandered. They weren’t shy either. One of them closed around her breast and she sighed, making him chuckle.
But he wasn’t laughing at her. It was as if this night was a secret they shared. Something that made no sense, that never should’ve happened, but was anyway.
His thumb circled her stiff tip and she bit her lip, placing her hand on his jaw to draw him back. She had to watch him as he touched her, so he could see everything he was giving her on her face. He needed to know exactly how he was making her feel.
All her doubts were gone.
He pushed up her shirt and she cupped her breasts out of reflex, not because she truly wanted to cover herself. He didn’t move them away, just kissed her again, his mouth sliding over hers until she had no choice but to reach for him. She had to keep her hands on him. He nudged her hair away from her neck, kissing his way down her throat, his lips warm and wet. Arousing. She dragged her nails through his hair, sinking them into his scalp at the first flick of his tongue on her nipple. Barely a hint of sensation and she jolted off the sofa.
God, she didn’t know if she could handle this.
Half sitting up, he sucked delicately on the tip, his green gaze meeting hers. She gasped and writhed, shocked by the sensation of his tongue curling around her sensitive flesh. His other hand came up to support her other breast, his deft fingers plucking at the tight nipple. Making it more so. She shifted beneath him, biting down on her lip to try to hold back the sounds determined to escape.
“Don’t.” He scraped his t
eeth over her throat. “Give me every one of those moans I earned.”
“I don’t know how.” She wasn’t even sure what she was saying. Or what was happening to her body. It was as if she was being consumed by heat with every caress of his gaze.
Never mind when he actually touched her.
“You’re doing just fine.” He lifted his head as she shifted restlessly beneath him. “Your breasts are gorgeous. Just like the rest of you.” He moved his mouth to her ear and gave the lobe a slow suck. “I want to see everything.”
For probably the first time in her life, she didn’t have a joke or a smart remark. She pushed at the waistband of his boxers, needing them down. She wanted everything at once. Couldn’t settle, couldn’t breathe.
He hooked his finger in the waistband of the boxers she wore and slid her other nipple into his mouth, skimming his teeth ever so gently over her skin. She rocked into the sofa, half mindless already. His gaze stayed on hers, endlessly patient.
If it took her all night to come, she knew he’d wait.
He tugged down her boxers while he drew on the taut peak, his hypnotic eyes entrancing her to the point where she couldn’t focus on anything else but them. He bit down and her clit pulsed in time with the sharp twinge in her nipple, taking her by surprise. She gripped the cushion beside her and he stopped undressing her long enough to bring her hand to his shoulder. “Don’t stop touching me,” he murmured, and she couldn’t do anything but nod.
Kneeling on the floor in front of her, he tugged the material down her thighs, stopping as her mound came into view. She forget her edict to keep her hands on him and tossed one arm over her eyes, hiding from his perusal.
That worked for about ten seconds.
He pulled her arm away and brought her hand back to his shoulder again. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and there was no way she could deny the truth on his face.
“I didn’t…I don’t…” She heaved out a breath. “I wasn’t prepared for this. Wax to me is what they make candles out of. I don’t put it near my delicate parts.”
She expected him to laugh as he would have earlier. He just traced the scant curls that guarded her lower lips, tugging them lightly, his expression so carnal she couldn’t find anything else to say.
