It’s midnight and I’m stepping out of the shower when my phone rings. I haven’t attempted sleep. As soon as we arrived at the hotel, I ran to my room, changed, and went to the gym. I knew there would be a party, and I also knew Lyric would probably be there, so I decided not to go. I just need to stay busy. Knowing she’s here is enough for me right now. Building up the courage to actually talk to her is a whole other story.
I ignore the call and immediately get a notification, so I check the text.
Derrick: Where are you? Hedge is trying to shove his tongue down Lyric’s throat. At party. Room 912. Come now.
What the fuck?
All my calm instantly goes out the window, and I’m forced to throw on a pair of shorts and a shirt. That didn’t take Hedge very long. I know he has the hots for Lyric, and let’s be honest; there isn’t really a girl he doesn’t try to bone if given the opportunity.
I fly down the hall and pound on the door of Room 912 until someone opens it. I’m too blinded by my rage to notice who. I push my way through the crowd and through two adjoining rooms to find her. She’s there, leaning against the bed’s backboard, knees up, a red cup in her hand, and a smile on her face.
Our eyes connect, and I’m unable to pull away. Her smile fades and her eyes bore into mine with hope. My chest burns from the look she’s feeding me, and I want to reciprocate.
Lyric always looks amazing, but I have a hard time controlling my dick when she removes her makeup and throws on sweats. And that’s exactly how she looks right now. Natural and perfect.
And then I remember the feeling she left me with when she got in that car, and all thoughts of stripping her down and ravaging her dissipate.
She’s shoulder to shoulder with Terese on one side, Melanie on the other. Hedge, Derrick, and Lorraine are on the bed too, facing them.
Everyone seems to glance at me at the same time. I realize I must look like a freak with my hair still wet and eyes as wide as a tarsier. Derrick raises his eyebrows, and the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. And suddenly it becomes clear he was fucking with me. Dipshit.
The laughter starts. Derrick and Hedge are rolling all over the bed, holding onto each other and losing their shit. Melanie and Terese have their heads bowed together with giggles, and even Lorraine is smirking. By the look on Lyric’s face, I can tell she has no clue what’s going on.
“You asswipes are dead,” I growl. But I don’t pummel them now. I’ll get them later. Right now, I need a fucking drink.
“Where’s the alcohol?”
Lorraine hops off the bed and tugs me into the bathroom, her high, blonde, ponytail bouncing with each step. She mixes me some colorful shit that appears to be all alcohol, thank God, and hands it to me. She’s a good friend.
“You okay, buddy?”
Instead of answering, I knock my cup against hers, then take a drink. I wince as the liquid fire burns my throat. “Ah, shit. What is this?”
She chokes back a laugh. “I have no fucking clue. It’s potent though, ain’t it?”
I shake my head and take another drink, opening my throat and gulping down the liquid without tasting it. “Perfect.”
Lorraine smirks and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me to myself. Looking back in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of my fucked up hair and untidy stubble. I run a hand through my hair to make it presentable, but I know there’s nothing I can do about my face now. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
There’s a reason I’ve declined every party invite since Lyric left: the fear of drinking too much and doing something stupid when my heart still belongs to her.
Unlike me, Lyric’s not a big partier. She likes to go out and have drinks on occasion, but to get plastered in a hotel room with the band, the entire crew, and a bunch of random groupies is not her style. She would much rather curl up in my arms and watch a movie in bed. I loved those times with her. When the rest of the world would fade away. Our bubble was safe. Perfect.
I know how these douchebags get when they see a pretty girl. And Lyric is beyond pretty; she’s stunning. I should have gotten here sooner, just in case any of these douchebags really did get the wrong idea and start hitting on her. I might be angry as hell at her, but Lyric’s still mine.
Now that we’re both here, I’m not sure what to do. Leaving is out of the question, but after our last interaction, being in the same room is probably not the best thing for us.
I slam the rest of my drink and pour myself another. When I walk out of the bathroom, Derrick and Terese are making out on the bed with a yawning Lyric still sitting beside them, slouching awkwardly against the headboard. Hedge has disappeared, probably afraid of my fist—as he should be.
Melanie bounces up to me, liquid splashing from her cup. “Hey, Wolfman,” she says, slurring slightly. “See your girl over there? I think she needs a cuddle.” She giggles, and I roll my eyes. They must have started partying hours ago.
“I think I’ll pass,” I say, loud enough for Lyric to hear me. My words don’t really fire her up the way I want them to because the moment I look over at her, I can see her eyes drawing shut and her head tipping to the side.
“Shit!” I cross the room in three strides, catching her before she falls off the edge of the bed. “How much have you had to drink?” I ask as her eyes flicker open.
Her glazed eyes search mine, and the most beautiful, sleepy smile lights up her face. “I’m back, baby,” she says, reaching for my face and caressing it with the lightest touch.
Even in my pissed-off state, I can feel the tingles crawl over my body. For a moment, I imagine we’re back to our happy place, when I would take that beautiful mouth in mine and swallow her moans. And then her eyes stutter closed again, and she relaxes into my arms.
“Whose room is this?” I ask Melanie over my shoulder, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Fuck. I turn to Terese and shake her foot to get her mouth off Derrick’s. “Terese, whose room are we in?”
She shrugs, clearly annoyed that I interrupted. “Mel’s, I think.”
“Do you know where Lyric’s room is?”
Terese shakes her head and leans back into Derrick. “Not sure.” He pulls her beneath him and shoves his tongue down her throat.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Looking back at Lyric, I know I’m fucked. There’s no way I can leave her here, but I can’t exactly take her back to her room if I don’t know where she’s staying.
I curse under my breath. Lyric is weightless in my arms as I carry her out the nearest door and into the hall. As I’m walking toward my room, I steal a glance at her, and my heart thumps erratically in my chest. Her breathing is steady and there’s the smallest smile on her face. I’m not going to lie to myself right now; it feels damn good to be holding her in my arms again. No matter the circumstances, I’m crazy about this girl.
Her eyelashes hover over her cheeks. Her skin is as light and flawless as I remember. I could caress her soft skin for hours. There was a time, not too long ago, when I did just that. The feel of her in my arms is as familiar as the memories of me pressing her against the rooftop wall at the Aragon.
Damn, that was a good night.
I push my door open and carefully carry her to my bed. I lie her down on the sheet so her head is on the pillow. Then I kneel down beside the bed and just stare. Her breathing is deep and even. There’s no way she’s waking up anytime soon.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I scan her body and see her slippers dangling halfway off her feet, so I remove them and set them by the bed. Lyric always gets hot at night and prefers sleeping in her underwear—or in the nude, which was always my vote, so I remove her pants next, careful not to check out her panties. As much as I want to take a gander, I know it’s not healthy for my dick right now. He’s already getting excited. I leave her tank top and bra alone because there’s no way I can deal with that, and then I tuck her body in under the covers.
After peeling off my own clothes and brushing my teeth, I curl up beside her and wrap my arms around her sleeping body. Before I can stop myself, I’m pressing my lips to the soft skin of her shoulder. Then I’m running them across her back, breathing her in and remembering how she would shake beneath me as I made her come. Every single time.
I groan into her hair, my balls already aching to the point that I think I might wake her up and make her beg for forgiveness, just to make her come again.
Why am I so pissed again?
Running my hands over my face and through my hair, I let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck.” There’s no way I can sleep next to her tonight.
I slip out of the bed, grab a pillow and blanket from the closet, and throw them on the couch at full force. Tossing one more longing glance over my shoulder at Lyric, there’s only one thing I know.
I’m in hell. Right now. This is hell.