The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance (Legendary Rock Star #5)

by L. B. Dunbar

  The next issue was Ireland’s outburst.

  “I forgot my vows. Oh my gosh, how could I forget them?” Her hands fluttered and she bent forward to search her bag, pulling out tons of items, none of which was a paper with vows.

  “Relax,” Tristan said. My first thought was if he started kissing Ireland like Perkins was doing to Hollister, I was going to need the airbag. He didn’t thankfully. He grabbed her hands, holding them still, said something low into her ear, and then pulled her onto his lap. She cradled in his arms as he kissed the side of her face. I had to look down at my iPad. I couldn’t take anymore.

  At some point, I started to nod off. I wasn’t sleeping well. It had been roughly two weeks since the fire, and I was still having trouble catching my breath. I was uncomfortable when I slept at night, often restlessly tossing and turning. Some days I felt like I hadn’t rested in weeks.

  My head was falling forward and I had one of those knee-jerk reactions as my iPad began to slip from my lap. I hadn’t been paying attention to a single word on the screen, nor were my ears registering the music that played in them. My thoughts wandered aimlessly as my eyelids drifted to close, then snapped open, and again I reached for the shifting tablet.

  “Here,” a soft voice spoke, and a gentle hand pulled the iPad off my lap. “Close your eyes,” Arturo said. I nodded slowly, letting my eyes shut and shifting to find a more comfortable position. In time, my head fell sideways and I rested against Arturo. I made to move, but he stopped me with his hand on my thigh.

  “Stay,” he whispered. I let my head fall against his shoulder. He kissed my forehead and I fell asleep instantly.

  The next awkward moment occurred at the house. Five band members. Five bedrooms. One extra girl. The discussion began before we exited the plane. Arturo refused to sleep with Kaye, saying there was no way he was sharing a bed with his brother. When we arrived at the house, the tile floor was nothing to be desired for comfort, so sleeping on the floor didn’t seem a good option. That left one three-sided pit couch that was the center piece to the living room. I offered to take the couch.

  “Absolutely not,” Lansing said, but Lila touched his arm to stop his defense for me.

  It was Ireland who stepped up.

  “Tristan and I are taking the honeymoon suite.” Her face blushed deeply as she mentioned the room. She pointed out where Lansing and Lila, and Perkins and Hollister could stay. “Gentlemen,” she turned on Kaye and Arturo, “you will be chivalrous and offer Guinie a bed. The two of you will take that room next to her, and duke it out yourselves for the bed that remains.”

  Kaye made a delicate wave at Arturo, who only sneered as he led the way to their shared bedroom. I was relieved that my room was separated from all the lovers by the brothers. After witnessing Perkins and Hollister kiss, I didn’t want to hear the nocturnal activities, I was certain each couple would be performing. I was also glad that my room was at the end of the hall and on the beach. It was a dark room, made up in brown tones, masculine actually, but I loved the view. The ocean roared against the white sands and I stared in wonder at its beauty.

  The wedding ceremony was to be in two nights. Tristan had it planned for sunset in a remote place that would include only the nine of us as witnesses. In a sense, tonight’s activities involved a bachelor party. The boys were going out for drinks; the ladies were staying in. Tristan had hired someone to come in for manis and pedis. The night was so relaxing, that by nine two pregnant women were ready for bed. Lila and I sat on the back patio listening to the waves lap the shore. The water and sky matched in an inky black that reminded me sadly of Ana’s hair.

  “It must be very awkward,” Lila said, sipping her wine.

  “You have no idea,” I replied, shaking my head without looking at her.

  “Actually, I do,” she said. “When my sister was with Josh Tucker, I had to face him when Fleur was born. It was awful to know that I’d loved him, and he’d been with my sister. And now I have this constant reminder, as Fleur is the cross between the two of them in many ways. He was very hard to let go of at first.”

  We were silent for a moment.

  “But you did let go?” I questioned, knowing the answer. She was with Lansing Lotte. They would be the next to wed. She was happy.

  “I did, but it took a long time, because of the hurt.” Her eyes narrowed sympathetically as I watched her. “I had a hard time forgiving them, and I was too late with my sister.”

  My thoughts wandered to Arturo. He might have a hard time forgiving me, but I was having an equally difficult time forgiving him. Forgiveness takes a lot of strength. I wasn’t certain I had it. On the other hand, I didn’t want it to be too late for Arturo and me.

  “I’m going to speak out of line here, and say I think he’s forgiven you,” she continued.

  I stared at her. She couldn’t be serious.

  “I see the way he still looks at you. He longs for you. I’ve heard him say it’s over, but the sadness in his voice when he says it, leads me to believe he doesn’t want it to be. You’ve hurt each other, but it’s time to come home to one another.”

  I continued to stare at her.

  “It’s hard to fight ghosts, but not if you let them go. I think Arturo has let the ghosts go.”

  It occurred to me that no one knew what Arturo had done with Ana. Her tempestuous attempts to regain his affection were a secret in and of themselves. If that hidden truth was kept secure with only Arturo, then the others only saw my indiscretion, not his. If possible, Arturo did forgive me, as he could admit he was almost as guilty as me. The others could see that Arturo was letting the past alone, without knowing that there was more to the story. I decided it wasn’t my place to share intimate details of Arturo’s time with Ana with the band, but I didn’t feel it was fair.

  Was Ana a ghost haunting me? In many ways, she was. She had been his lover. She had mothered his child. She had been his caretaker, his seducer, and his friend. She was all the things I had wanted to be and wasn’t. I was jealous of Ana LeFaye. She had gotten everything she wanted, except for the man himself. In the end, it seemed she’d done more for him than me.

  I downed the rest of my wine and excused myself. I hoped the warm feeling of alcohol and the steady rhythm of the night waves would lull me to sleep.

  However, I woke with a thud against my bedroom door and then the slow squeak of it opening. I rolled to face Arturo sneaking into my room. Sitting up, I whispered harshly, to ask what he thought he was doing.

  “Let me sleep here,” he whined. “Kaye snores when he’s this drunk, and I don’t need him mistaking me for some Island lover.” Arturo hiccupped and my blood roiled with the idea that he was drunk, too. He leaned his back against the closed door.

  “You can’t sleep with me. Sleep on the couch,” I commanded.

  “Guinie, please. It’s lonely out there,” his voice was a raised whisper, as if he was trying to be quiet but couldn’t. “Besides, I’ll hear them all having sex.” He emphasized the last word, and it slid through his mouth like a lisp. I had to laugh.

  “I think that’s why Kaye’s drunk. To drown it out,” he said. His dark eyes focused on me as his body pressed against the door, and I saw the playful reflection from the moonlight in the room. I had left the curtains purposely open, enjoying the bright natural light of the night. His bag dropped with a thud as he started to make his way to the bed and stumbled.

  “Are you drunk, too?” I questioned.

  “Not drunk enough,” he muttered, as he hastily removed his t-shirt, struggling a little with it before it came clear of his head. He looked at me as he unbuckled his belt and I froze. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his hard abs as the moonlight streaked across them. I was jealous of that light touching him. The soft dark hairs peeked out of low-slung jeans that slid down as his belt came open. He slowly unzipped his pants, as if he was putting on a show. When his hand pushed one side down, and I got a glimpse of tight black boxer briefs I had to look away.

/>   “Sleep on the couch,” I said in a choked voice.

  “Guinie, please. It’s not like we haven’t slept with each other before.”

  The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them.

  “It’s not like I’m Ana.”

  His head bobbed back and he stared at me without blinking.

  “Ouch,” he muttered, and I waited for a rebuff. Nothing came.

  “Fine,” I said, as I moved over and drew down the sheets. After scooting to the opposite side of the bed, I flung myself down on my side, facing away from him. The mattress depressed slowly and I felt Arturo wedge a pillow between us. My heart sank at his blatant barrier between us. I’d overstepped my bounds.

  “I’m sorry, Arturo,” I whispered. He didn’t respond to me.

  I lay there wide-awake for a while. I couldn’t sleep with him in the bed. Sensing he was asleep from alcohol, I rolled to face him. He slept with his face away from me as he sprawled on his stomach. His stumped arm was over the pillow used as a shield against me. I hadn’t really been up close to the change in his physique. I stared at the knobbed wrist wondering how it felt. The physical loss was unimaginable to me. The sense of looking down and seeing a part of your body missing seemed surreal.

  I hesitated as I slowly reached out toward his arm. I could see the puckered skin faintly in the dull light of the room. The skin pulled tight with a jagged scar. It looked like a clean break, if that were a way to describe it, as it rounded over the joint of the wrist, taut and firm. My fingers trembled as I stretched toward that delicate looking skin then gently touched it. At first, I placed the tips of my fingers on the end of the stump. I held for barely a second then pulled back quickly. When Arturo didn’t stir, I returned my fingers with more pressure and stroked over the smooth, hairless skin. I brushed lightly around the absent wrist.

  Arturo’s head shifted and he twisted to face me. Dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight hit mine. I pulled back again.

  “You don’t have to stop,” he said quietly.

  My fingers returned to rubbing over his skin, feeling the blunt end of bone. My fingertips circled around the top of his wrist then gently smoothed down his arm. My own skin was warm to the touch of him. Fibers tingled at the contact, and neurons of energy slowly crept up my arm. It was that strange connection-seeking sensation I’d had on his boat: an attraction of particles that could not be denied.

  Arturo slipped the pillow out from between us and propped it under his head.

  “Don’t stop, actually,” he said in a low tone. “It feels good.”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whispered, continuing my examination with tender strokes over him.

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” he said, his voice raspy as I continued to touch him.

  “Me, either,” I stated the obvious.

  His arm, slightly bent at the elbow, began to straighten and the stumped wrist came toward me. He made contact with my neck just under my jaw and I shivered with the touch.

  “Does it scare you?”

  “No.” I swallowed hard as the smooth skin travelled under my chin and down my neck.

  “Does it disgust you?”

  I could only shake my head as his arm made a torturously slow trail to my exposed shoulder. I only had on a cami top and shorts in the heat of the tropics. I shivered as he slipped to my collarbone and traced back to the center of my neck.

  “Does it excite you?”

  The honest answer was yes, but my body proved my unspoken response. Nipples stood so erect they forced the thin material over them to stand up. His arm slipped downward and my chest rose with the thrilling awareness he was headed for my breasts. He went between them forcing the cotton material of my top to fall open. There he stalled. I had been watching the descent of his fascinating touch, but I looked up at him in his hesitation.

  “May I?”

  I couldn’t say no. I was suddenly so turned on by the slow seduction of my body. He pushed forward to circle my left breast first. I whimpered in excitement, my eyes drifted closed as I breathed deeply.

  “Guinie,” he spoke tenderly, “open your eyes.”

  I did and looked at him. Black coal met mine as the excitement in his spoke to me. Concentrating on those dark orbs, the edge of his wrist skated directly over my breast, twirling around on the nipple then descending back between the two globes heavy with a need to be caressed. I sucked in air at the pleasure of him touching me, and a steady pulsing began to grow between my legs.

  My hand slid up between us and rose above my head. There must have been something in the way I said his name that made him rise up on his opposite elbow, and he repeated the tempting caress over my other breast. I moaned softly and my hips rose with a tense anticipation. My hand came to his hair and I spoke his name again. This man knew me. He knew from the tone of my voice what I wanted.

  “Does it seem strange?” I asked, implying his arm rubbing over my skin.

  “I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve missed touching you.”

  His arm continued down the center of my body. It blazed a trail, but it wasn’t heat that burned me. It was the tenderness, the delicate way he moved over me.

  “I don’t have a hand, but it feels like I can touch you with it. I remember touching you everywhere. That sensation haunted and thrilled my dreams.”

  As he neared the very place I wanted to be touched the most, I panicked.

  “I don’t think…” I began but he shushed me softly. His eyes followed the movement of his arm and he rubbed the stumped wrist across the damp center of me. I flinched with excitement and my hips rose again. I was in desperate need of relief, but…

  “I don’t think I can do this,” I said quietly, honestly.

  His eyes travelled up my body as his arm moved to my hip, rolling me on my side to face him, as I had been lying on my back.

  “Let me kiss you,” he whispered, and I nodded.

  The kiss was gentle just like his worshipping movement over my body. It wasn’t hesitant. His lips knew what they wanted, but he was slow to take it. The first contact was soft, the second firmer. The final step in my capture was my own surrender. Arturo often kissed like he was trying to conquer me, but you can’t vanquish those who are willing. I melted into him instantly. We began a slow dance of rediscovery. Mouths moved with measured steps. Tongues teased before they tangoed methodically with one another. Arturo led and I followed gracefully. As our lips moved in beats, our bodies drew closer together. Eventually, he was braced over me, one leg between mine. That was how it began. If he raised his knee, I’d be sure to come. I didn’t need that. I wanted it, but I wasn’t ready to go from flame to firework. I wanted to enjoy the moment, and so we continued to cover the dance floor with the rhythm of coupled lips.

  He pulled back eventually, sensing I couldn’t go any deeper.

  “I should have kissed you like that the first time,” he said, brushing back a piece of stray hair.

  I couldn’t help myself. I smiled slowly as my body felt relaxed and weightless under him.

  “Time for sleep,” he said. A wave of déjà vu rippled over me, but it was a refreshing reminder of a time long ago. Like the tide outside on the night shore, the wave rolled forward and then slipped back, a kiss against the sand. My memory recalled happily, Arturo and I sleeping together in the past as he moved next to me and I rolled to curl into him. His arm went over my waist, and hand or no hand, he shielded me from a night of restless sleep. I fell peacefully into his embrace.

  The sheets rustled over me and Arturo exited the bed. The room was flooded with daylight, but I sensed it was early. I heard the pull of curtains and the room darkened. A warm body snuggled up behind me, and I turned to look at him over my shoulder.

  “Good morning,” I spoke, my voice groggy.

  “Not yet,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

  I closed my eyes and wiggled my body to blend in with him again. My back met his warm chest, and I shivered with the
cool breeze of the ceiling fan over us. His knees were bent and mine had been curved around his all night. My legs needed to stretch and I straightened them, forcing my ass against Arturo. His arm rested over me again, but at the movement of my lower body along his, his forearm rose and rested on my hip to still me.

  I didn’t have to ask. The evidence of what I had done was pressed into me. The hard length of him sent a ripple of excitement through me. I stretched again. He growled.

  “Guinevere,” his voice warned. He’d wound me up the night before. It was my turn to play. I purred and curled like a tired cat. I wiggled back and forth slowly, relishing the feel of him against my behind. His right arm was attempting to stop me, but he had no hand to grip my waist. I was using his weakness against him and I rolled my hips again.

  “Guinevere,” his tone bit, but it was more a whine. He liked what I was doing. I rolled to face him and my hand covered the length of him over his boxer briefs. He hissed and I kissed his chest.

  “I…” I wasn’t sure I could explain, but I suddenly had a mission. I needed to prove that I could bring him relief, that it was my touch he craved. As much as he remembered touching me, I wanted to prove that my touching him in return was what he had longed for, as well. Ana flashed in my mind, the ghost of her attempting to bring him pleasure, and I was determined it would be me, instead.

  I wrapped my hand over the fabric that covered a length so hard, I sighed with anticipation. I yanked and he inhaled. I tugged and he exhaled. Then I slipped my fingers over the band and gripped the ridged shaft. My fingers thrilled as they made contact. I held the heaviness of him in my hand before dragging my palm up the tight skin. My thumb tickled over his head, and moisture escaped to wet my efforts. My mouth watered as I continued to work him over. Both our breaths grew ragged. I kissed his chest. My lips trailed from one side of him to the other, as I tugged and clutched, my movement increasing to a frenzy. I was unwavering in my commitment to get him off. I wanted to feel him ripple in my palm. I wanted to hear his sigh of desire. I wanted to be the one he longed to have touch him.