I IMAGINED HIM finishing the song, unclipping and handing off his Les Paul, jumping off the stage, sweeping me up in his arms and carrying me off to have his wicked way with me. But that was not how it happened. I got left behind as the frenzied crowd pressed forward. Unable to hold my ground, I ended up yards away from the stage. I could hear Lucky on the speakers thanking the audience for being so supportive, but couldn’t see him over the taller people surrounding me. Jostled one way, bumped hard another, I started to topple.
"I've got you." A strong set of arms banded protectively around me. His skin slippery and wet against mine I recognized his citrus scent instinctively.
"Lucky." I spun around and gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Angel." Then he swept me off my feet and clasped me to his chest in a lover's hold, acknowledging the three serious faced security guards who materialized out of nowhere and sprang into action. One went ahead of us parting the crowd. The other two flanked me and the frontman. I wrapped my arms around Lucky's strong neck and held on as we headed back up the aisle I had come down moments earlier.
In the lobby, I spotted my bestie at the even busier post-concert merch booth. She grinned and gave me a thumbs up of approval. I didn’t see Sky and didn’t have an opportunity to look for her. With our security escort we made it through the lobby before the fans spilling into it from the theater had a chance to realize what was going on. Outside in the warm summer air, the security detail remained in place though the crowd was thinner.
"You planned this," I said, staring up at him.
"The snagging you and running away with you, yes.” He gave me a smirk I found ridiculously attractive. “But not necessarily the falling or the carrying part. I'm good at improvising though whenever the situation warrants as you'll soon discover."
"You can put me down now." I wiggled in his arms as he ducked into the hotel lobby that was only a few short Lucky length strides from the venue.
"Not a chance in hell. Not till I have you where I want you." He stopped my heart with a full grin. “Naked with the door locked and a whole night to play.”
"Do you want us to escort you all the way to your room, Mr. Spencer?" the lead security guy asked him at the elevators. The stern faced guard maintained his professionalism, not gawking as the half-dressed rock star carried his girl away to have his way with her.
It probably wasn’t an unusual occurrence in his line of work.
"No. I’ve got it from here." Lucky stepped inside.
"You really can put me down," I insisted as the door closed leaving us alone together. "I'm not going anywhere." My voice resonated in the tiny space, only not as compellingly as his did.
"No you most certainly are not." Arms tightening around me to make his point, his breathing not even labored from carrying me, Lucky stepped off the elevator on the fifteenth floor, glanced briefly at the directional signs in the hall and then took a left.
"Might be you who will need to get locked in," I announced as he readjusted me to get his key card out to open the door. "After I tell you some of the things I'd like to do to you tonight."
"Oh, yeah." Grinning cockily, he released me once we were inside and the door clicked closed. "This I definitely need to hear." I felt every chiseled contour and an intriguing length behind the laces of his leather pants as the front of my body slowly slid along his. "You can tell me all about your plans in the shower." His deeply persuasive voice made my skin tingle as if my entire body were shrink-wrapped in sensation. The rest of me sat up and paid attention, ready to assume whatever sexual position got me fucked the fastest. He took my hand and led me into the Carrera marble and pewter accented bathroom. Stopping between the counter and the shower, he lifted my hand to his lips, separating and kissing the sensitive pad of each of my fingers. I gulped. I could see my wide eyes beneath the bright lights in the vanity mirror. "Hey," he said noting my expression after twisting around and flipping on the shower. "You ok?" He stroked across the round of my cheek with his lion ringed thumb, his gaze intent as he awaited my response. I had a sexy rock god in front of me and a reflection of one behind me in the mirror. I was surrounded, but I didn't feel intimidated. Not really. Not in a bad way. Maybe just a little self-conscious.
"I just envisioned the lights a little lower and the action between us faster paced."
"I'm sweaty, Angel, and these leather pants are stuck to my skin,” he admitted, his expression wry. "If I had known beforehand that I would have the privilege of being together like this with you I would definitely have planned my wardrobe accordingly." He brushed a length of my hair aside. It swished feathery soft and cool against the top of my shoulder blades, contrasting the warmth and firmness of his caress as he began tracing the skin he had bared with the tips of his fingers. "Slow isn’t so bad, is it?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Every time I touch you," he murmured, smoothing his cupped palm lightly along the surface of my upper arm and following the path of his own movement downward with his eyes. "I feel that rush of excitement, like the first time I ever got up on stage and played in front of an audience. Then, there’s the way you look at me.” Capturing my hand, he lifted it and brought it to his lips. "It’s addictive. You’re addictive. Is it like that for you, too?" he asked, his gaze back on mine.
"Yes,” I whispered. It was eerily similar to the way I felt when standing in a room full of people doing an after-party skit. The weight of their stares. The onus on me to impress them. Only with him that pressure to impress felt stronger and with him I didn’t possess the slightest bit of control. I felt swept away. And I found it nearly impossible to breathe as he pressed warm kisses onto the back of my hand while watching me with those gorgeous eyes of his.
"So the things on your agenda." His gaze sparkled from within their post-concert kohl smudged frame. "Elaborate. Starting with what you were imagining earlier in the dressing room."
"Us in bed together, you on top of me wearing that cool makeup."
"That’s out tonight. I've got to wash before I’m fit to touch you." Some of the sparkle diminished in his gaze. "Is that one really important to you? For me to be the rock star tonight, the guy you see on stage, the one you think all the other chicks want? Or is what you said earlier true? Is this just about me and you?" I hesitated to reply as I considered his questions. That moment of hesitation left me standing alone on one side of the bathroom door and Lucky on the opposite side. “Alright, then.” His voice was muffled by the thickness of the door. The click of the lock coincided with the sudden lump in my throat. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Shut down and shut out that quickly. I was at a loss. I did want tonight to be only about him and me but wasn’t being a rock star part of who he was? Did he really expect me to separate the two? I heard movement inside the bathroom, heard the sound of the water change as he stepped into the shower. I got hot thinking about suds and all that sluicing water on his naked body. Then I felt awkward not knowing if his shoving me outside meant he expected me to leave. Had I been rejected completely? I clenched my hands into fists as the water shut off. "Do you want me to go?" I asked through the closed door with a raised voice jumping backward as it popped open and Lucky emerged with a white towel around his tapered waist and a cloud of steam accompanying him.
"Do you want to leave?" He gave me an imperious look over his water drenched shoulder as he brushed past me. My jaw dropped and my thoughts scattered. That completely saturated hair he never seemed to dry properly. Those broad shoulders. The muscular lines of his back drawn so taut that his dragon tattoo appeared angry. And below the towel... I licked my dry lips...he had such a fine ass.
"Raven, he called, and I managed to drag my gaze upward to focus on him as he turned around. His skin was freshly scrubbed. His black hair was slicked back. His makeup was gone, his face shadowed only with evening stubble and displeasure. "No reason we can’t fuck. Fast and with the lights low like you wanted. I don’t usually make it a habit to bring a groupie back to my hotel, but we can bend the rules tonight, love."
I flinched, taking his words as a direct arrow to the center of my chest where I was pretty sure he wanted me to feel it. "You're an asshole, just like the rest." I spun on my heels, tottering ungracefully as my eyes burned. Why had I agreed to this? Why change anything for him? I shouldn’t have come to Boston, shouldn’t have allowed myself to be sidetracked by him.
I had my hand on the handle when he spoke again. "I’m sorry." The scent of citrus and rum as well as my body that remained disturbingly attuned to him betrayed that he had moved closer, though I had no plans to turn around to confirm it. I remained where I was only because his apology sounded sincere.
"Why say you’re sorry when you’re just being honest?” I spit the word. It tasted foul in my mouth after his dig. “Why did you even agree to this? Didn’t you understand what I was offering you tonight?"
"I want you so badly that it’s difficult for me to think straight.” He let out a frustrated sigh.
"Exactly. That’s it for me exactly." I released the latch. He had bought himself another minute of my time. "Yet at least I tried to be honest. At least I was brave enough to put myself out there."
"You are courageous." He placed his warm hands on my shoulder and gently turned me around. “And beautiful.” His eyes searched my features. “Simply all around remarkable.” Swallowing hard, I kept my chin lifted to meet his gaze and found myself rocked by the regret reflected within it. "Let me try to follow your example." His right brow dipped over his eye, and his voice lowered. "Your offer tonight was even more tempting to me than I think you realize. It’s just that the execution of it is more complicated than I imagined." He paused pointedly, and I nodded for him to continue. "That shit you rave about in the video. Rock stars fucking women just because they can. Believe it or not unless you’re a total narcissistic arsehole that shit gets tired rather quickly. I mean at first, like any guy, I’ll take some of that easy action. But when a chick you just fucked, that you think maybe you connected with on a deeper level, thanks you for sleeping with her, it drives the point home that you don’t factor into anything that just happened. Not the real you... Not when you're picking up chicks from stage. Most of them have preconceived notions that they know you because of the lyrics you sing or the music you write. And that's a part of me sure, but it’s not close to all. You think we’ve got control? You’re wrong. We’re a bunch of lonely, isolated losers. Our record labels have us by the balls. We’re on the road all the time. We live in a rage cage. We’re totally trapped. We have little chance of finding something real and an even greater difficulty believing it when it’s standing right in front of us.” He framed my face touching the edge of my mouth softly with the rough pad of his ringed thumb. “So Raven. Being completely honest, knowing now how important your answer is to me, who did you come here tonight to sleep with?"
"You. All of you,” I admitted keeping it for tonight as real as he was. “The guy who looks out for me when he thinks I’m doing things that might get me hurt. The one who rescued and defended me. The part of you that feels responsible for his sister, his friends, and even sometimes me."
“Angel," he breathed. “Yes.” He tried to pull me closer.
I held my ground better than I had against the crowd because I wasn't finished and this was important. "But also the rock star who wears the makeup. Who is confident as hell on stage. Talented and ambitious. And so, so, sexy."