Laz was worth the risk.
Slowly, she paced toward the bed and climbed on top before finally straddling the place where he lay, his thick heat pressing against her.
“Nice,” he breathed.
“I can’t wait to be with you,” she whispered. And she meant it in every possible sense. Never in her life had she met someone who suited her so completely. Who challenged her. Who accepted her. And if she couldn’t express that gratitude aloud, she was damn sure going to show him.
So without another word, she guided him inside, savoring every inch of him as he drove deeper and deeper still. Filling her with the sweetest stretch, the most wonderful heat.
“Nice,” she parroted him and their eyes locked as she place a hand on either side of his shoulders and rocked her hips.
Maybe it was because it was her newfound confidence, but it was entirely different from any other sex she’d had. Her body responded to him with more intensity, growing wetter with every thrust, and he reached her in places she’d never felt before. Deeper and more intimate than ever before.
She was aware of her entire body as she moved, the way her chest bounced as she took him into her over and over again, and still she didn’t care. More than didn’t care, she liked it. Liked the way he stared at her breasts as they swayed. The way his fingers dug into her hips as she continued on, picking up the pace with every thrust.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he ground out, massaging her breasts again.
In response, she moaned, pushing herself deeper. Driving herself harder and holding nothing back. Her hair fell over her face and he pushed it aside, tucking a strand behind her ear and cupped the back of neck to bring her in close.
“Did you hear me? You’re perfect.” His words were husky and raw, and she knew he hadn’t expected her to answer. He’d only wanted her to hear. She let her body do the work of showing her appreciation.
He let out a groan and leaned up to close the space between them. His mouth touched hers and she met every swirl of his tongue with enthusiasm. The thrusts came harder. The pace was quicker, and the pressure between her thighs built, screaming for the promise of release.
He must have sensed it, and took control, slipping his hand around her backside and squeeze, plunging deeper still until her body could take no more. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and then pulled back.
“I want to watch you come again. Come with me, baby.”
When Lazlo Stone asked a girl to come for him, she had no choice but to obey. Even if she’d wanted to hold back, her body responded to his words. Hell, his voice alone had her growing slicker, moving faster.
She clutched at the sheets again and rode him hard. Though she tried to bite back the cries, it was impossible and she called out. His squeezed on her ass again and her thrusts quickened, meeting his own frenzied pace until they were both sprinting toward the goal. When his teeth closed over her earlobe and sucked, she lost it.
Her walls quaked as their hips collided and on her final cry of release, he joined her.
“Fuck, Syd,” he groaned. She leaned back as far as she could go, watching his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw tense as his finger gripped her hips. He held her in place, body quaking, until he was spent.
For a long time after the room was silent except for their shared, shallow breath. It was a monumental night for her, because it solidified what she already knew deep in her heart.
She was madly in love with Lazlo Stone, and he didn’t even know it yet.
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I should have told you all that stuff when I met you.” He broke the silence, the ghost of laugh still hanging on the air around him.
She laughed and rolled from him, allowing him to dispose of the condom and dress again. “You were that desperate to get me out of my skirt?”
“You would have been too if you saw that skirt.” Laz grinned and hopped back into his jeans. “You want to come back to my room for an encore? I have to shower and I’d hate to do it alone.”
She hesitated, but shrugged on her robe and followed him back to his room anyway. Still, when she got to his door, her nerves got the best of her. With her newfound revelation, she needed to think. A little time away from the lure of Laz that was so easy to get caught up in. They’d agreed to try. To see if a relationship could work between them, but he hadn’t said anything about love. Maybe she should play that part close to the vest for a while. But somehow she felt like, if she spent another minute with him, the words would just explode from her lips.
So she did what the old Syd would have done. She bailed.
“I actually have a lot of work to do tonight, and I don’t want to wake you coming in late. Can I catch you in the morning?” she said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. There was a lot of prep work and planning to be done for the next day’s brunch and come morning she would be happy for the extra time spent in the kitchen.
And maybe she’d be glad for the time spent planning her next course of action, too.
“Are you sure?” His smile was so tempting that she nearly unlocked his door for him, but her gut responded before the rest of her body parts got the chance.
“Yes. We both need a good night’s sleep, and we never seem to get that when we’re together.”
“If you insist.” He leaned in and planted a sultry kiss on her mouth. Her lips parted without her consent as his tongue teased her closer. Before she knew it they were against the door again, her hands on either side of his head as she pressed into him, giving every inch of her energy to his body.
Good God, what had this guy done to her? If she didn’t get out soon, she was going to fall into his shower with him, and then into his bed…
Finally, she pulled away and shook her head clear. “Good night,” she said, her voice halfway to a whisper.
“Good night.”
He disappeared into his room, and she turned on her heel, willing herself not to look back at his door. If she so much as glanced at the promise she’d left behind, she might sprint back and tell him she’d changed her mind.
And still she found herself, half an hour later, staring blankly into a refrigerator full of ingredients she couldn’t process. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what to do with them. After all, how hard was it to scramble some eggs for a brunch?
The problem was that she didn’t care. The single-minded determination was gone and all that was left was the desire to bolt back up the stairs and into the bed of the man she loved. She had no clue whether this was going to work out between them, and every moment not spent with Laz felt like a moment she’d wasted. They’d gone deeper tonight than they ever had. He’d confessed something important to her, and she’d bared herself to him in the bedroom, but it seemed like she had one more confession to make if she wanted to be her true self with him.
She set to work frying eggs and thinking over exactly what she would say. When she went back to his room, it would be with midnight breakfast in hand and heart on her sleeve.
With any luck, he’d accept both with open arms.
Chapter Twelve
Part of him knew he was dreaming, but none of him cared.
He was on a desert island with palm trees waving in the salty summer breeze. The white sand was hot beneath his feet and absolutely no one was around save for himself and the waves. He lay there, his feet in the sand for a long while until a rustling sounded from behind.
And when he turned to discover where the noise had come from, he was suddenly standing again, only feet from the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
Sydney.
Her bathing suit was so sparse that it was little more than a few scraps of fabric, and still he needed to rip them off. He needed to see every last inch of her. And here, she wasn’t afraid to show him. Here, she strode toward him with the same kind of confidence she’d shown in the kitchen.
And he’d be damned if it didn’t meet with the same results.
&
nbsp; When she finally reached him, she began to undress with painful slowness. He reached to help her—to rip the thin strands and get at the prize beneath, but she stepped away from him, careful to avoid his touch.
After what felt like hours, she was finally laid bare before him, her creamy white skin flowing in the sun, and he reached out to run his thumb along the flat plains of her stomach. He needed to feel her. To caress the supple curves of her breasts.
And she was standing right in front of him. The space must have been only inches. But when he reached out, he couldn’t touch her. He stepped forward and tried again, but she was still inches from his grasp. He tried everything he could think to do—he lunged, and stretched, but Sydney remained intangible.
“Come here.”
She shook her head.
“Please. I need to be with you.”
Her expression shifted. Before, she had been playful, her full lips curved into the sexiest smirk he’d ever seen. Now, she refused to meet his gaze, and her kissable lips were turned down. Almost mournful.
“I can’t do that.” Sydney had spoken the word, but the voice wasn’t hers. Her full, rich tone had been replaced by a wispy trill. Bridget.
“I don’t—” He was cut off by the horn blast on a passing boat. He turned to find the vessel careening toward the shore, just close enough that he could make out the words painted in red across the bow.
The Rift.
Inexplicably, dread washed over him. He needed to do something to get Sydney to understand, though what exactly she needed to understand in the first place was beyond his comprehension.
He spun, making one last attempt to touch her at last, but by the time he turned around again, she was gone. With nothing left, he waded into the water to join the boat, only to discover that it, too, had disappeared and he was utterly alone again.
The bed squeaked and startled him out of his dream. Relief washed over him, and he let out a breath, the tension leaving his limbs.
He wasn’t on an island. He was warm, nestled between the sheets with a very touchable woman. She was real, and if the curve of her naked hip pressed against his backside was any indication, she was still entirely his.
It was just a stupid dream.
No big deal.
He’d just have to put it from his mind. And with any luck, Syd would be willing to help him distract himself for a little while. It couldn’t be too late for a little slap and tickle, right?
Looking around, he wasn’t all that sure.
He must have been asleep for a long while because the room was darker than when he’d drifted off. He could hardly see his hand in front of his face. Which was fine. Midnight sex might add another layer of mystery, even if it did make it more difficult to see her incredible body.
“You up?” He rolled over, slung an arm over her, and she hummed in response. The hum was low and throaty, and for a moment guilt got the better of him. She must have been in a seriously deep sleep to sound that groggy.
She wasted no time in kissing his concerns away, though. In the next instant, she had curved into his embrace and was kissing up his neck. She punctuated every caress with another low hum, which was strangely…off-putting.
Maybe he was still rattled from his dream.
Either way, he had to put an end to it, so he led her toward his mouth to kiss her awake, but something wasn’t right. He’d teased her mouth open with the lightest brush of his tongue, and she brushed the whole of her own against his teeth. Then she plunged her tongue inside his mouth and licked the roof.
It was a harsh kind of transition. Like she was trying to pry military secrets from his tonsils. It wasn’t Syd’s style at all. But worse than that, these lips weren’t Syd’s—they were thinner, not as luscious and bitable. He jerked away just as the lights flipped on, and then everything seemed to happen at once.
There was a clatter of something, a slamming of the door, a shriek, and then utter silence as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light.
“Well, that was awkward,” a smoky voice said with a chuckle.
And that was how he found her next to him in his bed.
Elyse.
“What the hell are you doing?” He jumped from the mattress and onto the floor, landing in a mile of something soft and mushy, but he didn’t bother to look down. He had to find his clothes. This woman had already seen more than her fair share of his body.
“I thought we could…spend some time together.” She used her best innocent-sounding voice. The same one she’d used the last time she’d pulled this kind of stunt.
“What is wrong with you? We’ve talked about this. I’m not interested.”
Where the fuck were his clothes?
“Anyone can be convinced that they don’t want something they’ve never tried.” She flipped the covers off herself, and he looked away. Not only had she fucking snuck into his room in the middle of the night, she was completely naked. Double crazy.
“Elyse, you need to leave. I can’t uninvite you from the wedding, but I can get a restraining order for when it’s over.” He’d spoken with a lot more calm than he’d felt. That was something, at least. And for another, he’d finally found his clothes shoved beneath a lockbox in the closet.
There was a rustling sound and Elyse said, “I’m dressed. You can look at me.”
He shrugged on his T-shirt and said, “I’d rather not.”
The rage was still building beneath the surface. If she didn’t get the fuck out, and soon, they were going to have a whole new set of problems.
“You know what your issue is?” she said.
“You.” He spat the word. One more brick in his wall of patience had begun to crumble.
She ignored him and continued, her voice growing louder as she spoke. “You have a talent for picking the women who are the worst for you. You think these plain, nice girls are going to make a rock star happy? You couldn’t be more wrong. I told the one before this the same thing. At least she had the common sense to get out.”
He imagined himself in cool, blue oceans. Wide, grassy fields. Anywhere calming.
And none of it worked.
He was at the summit of a volcano, ready to explode, and as much as he hated to shout at women, some people couldn’t be reached any other way. “Just get the fuck out and make sure I never see your face again. I have more important things to do.”
Finally, he stared her down through narrowed eyes. He felt like steam must have been billowing from his ears, but Elyse remained totally unaffected by his rage. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and marched toward the door.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be here when you figure things out for yourself.” The door shut behind her.
He crossed to grab his jeans and stepped in that same cold mass again. This time, he looked down to find scrambled eggs peeking out between his toes. And that wasn’t the only thing.
A whole tray of food sat wrecked on the ground—orange juice soaked into the carpet and bacon flopped over the edges of a silver serving tray. The glass the juice had been in hadn’t shattered. Nor had the little vase with a single carnation sticking out of it.
Oh God, Sydney.
Why had he taken so fucking long to get out of here? Who cared what happened to Elyse? He should never have wasted so much time trying to reason with her.
He shoved on a pair of pants and sprinted for the door.
Sydney would be in her room. She had to be. And when he found her, he was going to make things right. She’d understand.
She had to.
…
He’d said he wanted to be with her.
Right.
He’d said he wanted more than just a fling.
Likely story.
He’d said he cared about her.
Sure he did.
Men said a lot of things.
What a freaking idiot she’d been for listening. He probably just wanted to hold down something at home while he was aw
ay. Who wouldn’t? He could head out on the road and nail enough broads to start his own hardware company, and all the while he could have someone to watch his house and take care of things for him while he was gone.
Oh, and what a coincidence. She could cook, too. Maybe she should have learned to interior design and groom pets so that she could be the perfect candidate to be duped by him.
At least it all finally made sense now, why a megastar up and decided she was the one for him. There was no more pretending to herself that it had been anything else.
And lucky for her, he hadn’t even had the forethought to wait until he was on the road to start putting his round peg in other square holes.
Either way, it had been a blessing.
It had been one thing to be jealous of the idea of other women or nervous about him living a life apart from her, but it was something else to have justification for those thoughts.
The thought she could ignore. She could tell herself they weren’t real. But this? Seeing another woman in his bed? She’d never be able to work past it. The image would always be there.
Forever.
And no matter how many times she played through her lists of reasons for getting involved with him in the first place, she kept coming back to one solid truth. She should have known better.
She’d told herself as much from the very start of this whole stupid thing. Her life was better without the drama and stress. She was better off dating because she had to. She liked her life better when it revolved around her work. Then, at least, she had some idea of what she was doing.
Even if it was just a better version of lying to herself.
She hauled her suitcase from the closet and sat it on the bed.
One thing was for sure. She couldn’t live another week like this. Watching him walk around. Knowing she could see him at any minute.
Jesus, he hadn’t even tried to come after her.
She had to get the hell out of dodge, once and for all.
She unzipped the bag and stared at the empty space. Two piles of clothes sat atop the dresser. The first was her stack of old, ratty sweats—all gray and black and worn. The other clothes were the ones she’d gotten from Callie. Her pretty clothes full of sparkles and colors and all the other things that weren’t her at all.
Reforming the Rock Star Page 13
