Okay. No big deal. My brother knows I'm coming. I knock just in case my ETA text messages didn't get through. "Drew. It's me. Take your time."
No response. Maybe he didn't hear me. I go to knock again but the handle turns.
The bathroom door pulls open. Light pours into the main room. It surrounds a muscular man in a soft, yellow glow.
That's not Drew.
Thank God, because he's naked.
Completely and totally naked.
There's a strange naked man in Drew's hotel room, and he's between me and the exit.
I take a step backwards. There's nowhere to go. I'm against the wall. My heart beat speeds up. This guy doesn’t look menacing but that's not enough to convince the nerves in my stomach to settle.
"Hey. Didn't think you were coming," he says.
His voice is calm. Not threatening.
I take a deep breath. This must be an innocent mistake. The guy at the front desk gave me the wrong key.
Please let it be an innocent mistake.
"Alice?" he asks.
I shake my head. I'm not Alice. Given the way he's standing, tall and proud and utterly naked, she must be a sexual partner.
He reaches for something and the room illuminates. He's no longer highlights on hard muscles. Actually, he's really familiar. Green eyes. Dark blond hair hanging wet around his face. Soft lips curled into a welcoming smile.
I know him. Know who he is.
Relief floods my limbs as I exhale. That's him. Tom Steele, the drummer in my guitarist brother's alternative rock band, Sinful Serenade.
He's not dangerous. He's my brother's best friend.
Give or take. Drew isn't really the friendly type.
"Did you change your hair?" he asks. "Your nose maybe? Don't get me wrong. You look good. Just different."
I shake my head. My mouth is too sticky to form words.
He's naked.
My eyes won't co-operate with me. They trace a line down his body. Strong jaw, soft lips, broad shoulders, sculpted torso.
I've seen plenty of men naked in photography classes, but none of them made me feel sweaty and flushed.
My gaze goes lower.
To his happy trail.
Lower.
Holy shit.
He's pierced. There's a barbell stud going through the top to the bottom of his tip.
My jaw drops. "Is that a..."
"Prince Albert?"
It's impossible to speak. I nod.
"It's an apadravya. Like a Prince Albert but on both sides."
"Oh."
"It's new," he says. "Real new, actually. I'm out of commission for another three weeks. But I still have a mouth and two hands, so hop on the bed."
Me... on the bed... with Tom.
He steps closer. "You're not Alice, are you?"
Finally, I collect some hint of my senses. "No, I'm sorry." I press my back against the wall. Nerves collect in my stomach. Not fear but embarrassment. "Isn't this Drew's room?"
"We switched." His eyes fix on mine. "How did you get a key?"
It is an honest mistake. That's a relief. How did I get this key? At the desk. Asking for Bruce Wayne. It's hard to think given the circumstances. I say the first thing that makes it to my lips. "You're naked."
He laughs. "You're observant."
I can't drag my gaze away from his piercing. "Didn't that hurt?"
"Not as much as you'd think."
"What's the point?"
He studies my expression. "If you don't like it stop staring."
I press my eyelids together. "Sorry."
"You want to tell me what you're doing in my hotel room?"
"I thought this was Drew's room."
Somehow, I manage to look him in the eyes. That's definitely Tom. We've never met—I was in boarding school when the band was forming—but I’ve seen him in music videos and on the cover of Rolling Stone.
Tom pulls a towel around his waist. That makes it easier to think.
"I'm Drew's sister. Willow." I dig into my purse and pull out my driver's license. "Here. See."
Tom glances at the ID then returns it. "You shoulda told me before I let you gawk." He goes to the bed, digs through an open suitcase, and pulls on a pair of boxers. "I don't mind. I'm not shy. But your brother will kill me if he finds out you saw me naked."
There's a tattoo of a lion on his chest. Thick black lines. The pattern continues down his arm, all the way to his wrist.
"I know I'm sexy as hell, but you should probably stop staring."
God, he's right. I'm being all kinds of rude. There's no excuse. "I'm sorry. It's just—"
"Been a while?"
"Something like that." My cheeks flush. It's been six years since I've had sex. Six years since I've felt a hint of desire.
"I feel you, kid. I'm under strict orders from my piercer: no sex for six weeks." He looks back to me with a playful smile. "Can't even fuck myself."
He's casual with that information. Hi, I'm Tom, my cock is pierced, I can't fuck anyone for three more weeks. Not even myself.
Tom gets dressed like it doesn't bother him that I'm gawking. Skinny jeans. Converse. V-neck. Tight cotton hoodie.
Picture perfect, effortlessly cool rock star.
I press my hands against my sides and force myself to stare at the wall. Okay. We've got this mix up settled. Now I have to figure out what the hell I'm going to say to Drew about why I'm here. The truth isn't an option.
Tom's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
"Hope I didn't scare you." He smirks and motions to his now clothed crotch. "I know it's a monster."
I clear my throat. "I wasn't expecting a naked man in my hotel room."
"You look rattled."
"Surprised."
"Intrigued?" He raises a brow.
My cheeks flush. "I've never seen a, uh, piercing like that before." I press my lips together before I shove my foot into my mouth. "I have a lot on my mind. That's all."
His eyes pass over me. "If you need something—money a place to stay–I can arrange that."
I study his expression for a clue to his intentions. He seems earnest but I don't trust my instincts when it comes to men. "No thanks. It's a family thing."
Tom raises an eyebrow. "As you wish." He taps a few numbers into the hotel phone's keypad and brings it to his ear. "Hey. You two finished? I ran into your sister at the front desk. You want me to bring her over?" Tom laughs at whatever Drew says. "I know. I wouldn't. I'm too beautiful to die." He sets the phone back in the receiver. His eyes meet mine. "He's ready. Room 417."
I nod. "Thank you. And sorry."
"I don't mind." Tom shrugs. "Just keep this between us."
"Sure." It's too mortifying to tell anyone. "Good night." I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and reach for the door.
"Willow—"
"Yeah?"
"There are leaked pics of me online. If you need to take another look."
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Author’s Note
Thank you so much for reading Stum Your Heart Out. I hope you loved Kara and Drew's story as much as I did.
If you or someone you know struggles with self-harm, you can find more information about coping and resources at SIOS or SAFE.
***
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This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
STRUM YOUR HEART OUT
First edition. November 17, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Crystal Kaswell.
Written by Crystal Kaswell.
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Strum Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #2) Page 25
