Instead of taking a cab to the hotel in South Beach where I know the band is, I walk to the Intercontinental that’s only a few blocks from the venue and check in. I send a messenger service to South Beach for my stuff and text Jamie to tell him they’re coming.
I have nowhere to be until sound check twenty hours from now. I’m going to spend that time talking my cock down and keeping some perspective. I’ve made it nine weeks without touching Lucky. That’s not because I haven’t wanted to, but because I decided weeks ago that when something finally happened with her, it wasn’t going to be a onetime thing.
I call room service for a burger, planning on laying low until tomorrow. If I only see Lucky at the arena, surrounded by people, then I’ll be able to head to Europe after the show with a clean conscience.
At least that’s my plan until I get the text.
Where are you? she wants to know.
I think about ignoring it, but in my gut, I know it will eat me alive all night if I do.
Two blocks down Biscayne at the Intercontinental, I text back.
There’s a pause, then, Room number?
Fuck. If she comes here, and I have her alone in this room, I can’t be held accountable for what I’ll do to her if she gives me that look.
Planning on a low key night, I say, hoping that might be enough to her put her off.
I want to finish the solo riff before you go.
The song. Christ. It’s good, much better than anything I could pull together on my own, but I’d forgotten all about it. I trust you to work that out on your own. Or maybe Lilah can help.
I want you.
Those three words go right to my dick.
2217, I type on the jolt of adrenaline flooding my bloodstream.
On my way.
I jump in the shower, because I stink, then hate that I don’t have anything clean to put on. I pull on my jeans commando and am just toweling dry my hair when there’s a knock.
I look out the peephole and find a big black guy in a red vest and white shirt.
“Room service,” he says.
I pull open my door and he wheels the cart through…just as Lucky steps off the elevator. She’s cleaned up too, and dressed to fucking slay in a tight button-up blouse and a short white skirt. Not her typical loose T-shirt and shorts.
I take a deep breath and sign the tab. The guy passes Lucky on his way up the hall, and his head turns to catch the back of her as he passes.
She stops in my door. “I get the hotels,” she says, looking past me into my room. “This is nice.”
I step aside and as she passes, her typical scent of soap now mingles with vanilla and something earthier that grabs at my balls.
“What’s for dinner?” she says, lifting the lid off the plate.
“You hungry? We can split that,” I say, gesturing at the burger, “or I can order up something else.”
In answer, she picks the burger up off the plate and takes an enormous bite. She wipes the back of her hand across her chin to catch the drip of mustard, and fuck, that’s hot.
She sets the burger down and goes to the window that looks back toward the arena where we’ll play our final show tomorrow. “So, this is it,” she says. “The end of the road.”
I move to her side and follow her gaze. “Not for you, Lucky. This is just your rocket launcher. Everything from here is going to be straight up, so I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
She presses a palm to the glass and just stands there for a long minute before turning and gazing at me with eyes full of…everything. I see determination and vulnerability, longing and lust, hope and fear. “Then why does it feel like the end.”
Before I even know I’ve done it, my hand is on her face, my calloused thumb gliding over the flawless caramel skin of her cheek. My fingers weave into her hair and I draw her slowly toward me, giving her every opportunity to pull away if she doesn’t want this.
But, God, I hope she doesn’t.
Closer.
Her sweet breath feathers over my face and I close my eyes with the rush.
Closer.
Her fingers trail over the lines of my bare chest and abs, setting my skin on fire.
Closer.
Some of the softest lips I’ve ever felt brush across mine.
My tongue slips out of its own accord and strokes her lower lip, desperate for a taste of the only thing I’ve wanted for weeks. She meets it with hers, just a quick caress, and then her mouth is gone.
I open my eyes as I draw away and find her watching me with unsure eyes—that same vulnerability I saw the day we met. But then they harden and the sass I also saw that first day cracks like a whip out of her mouth. “What the fuck was that?”
“Our first kiss.”
My heart is galloping in my chest as I wait for her to digest that.
I can see her walls that had been coming down over the last few weeks clicking back into place. I expect something like And our last out of her mouth, so when she steps into me, pressing that body I’ve craved so hard since I saw her that first day all up mine, no one’s more surprised than me. Her eyes flash heat into mine. “That isn’t how you kiss your hookups. I want what you give everyone else.”