Seven

Liam

 

 

 

This damn woman. My dick was hard from her perusal, but as much as I wanted to press my hands to her cheeks and seal my lips to hers, taking what I wanted—what I’d paid for, damn it—I wasn’t that guy.

I would never be that guy.

Despite her attitude, her sweet fucking southern accent told me she’d lived a pretty privileged life herself. I had a feeling she wasn’t that girl.

Something about her whispered innocence and reverence, neither of which I’d ever had my hands on.

She believed me, too. Instantly. It might have been the first time I could remember someone looking at me, only belief and sincerity shining in their eyes, not a hint of doubt.

I wanted her. I wanted her sweet smile on me, the darkness that loomed in her rich brown eyes. I wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her sad, and then I wanted to be the guy that would never do any of the things that would bring tears to her eyes.

Which was beginning to make me a pussy. I spent most of the hours on the plane ignoring her so I didn’t throw her on the floor or the couch, and claim her like some caveman. That DNA must have been ingrained in me though, like the first men of time, because it was all I’d thought about since watching her ass sway away from me only yesterday.

I’d finesse this. With her proper manners and class, she wasn’t the kind of girl you threw against a wall and slammed your dick into before you even kissed her properly.

Not that I couldn’t do those things to her, I had paid for them after all. Which made me a dick for even bringing it up…twice. But that’s what she did to me. I could write a song for her, but talk to her? She left me tongue-tied.

The mere thought of fucking her just because I’d paid for the privilege made my stomach clench. My mama taught me better than that, and so did my dad.

No. I wiped my hands together and shoved them through my hair. I’d take my time. Seduce her.

Make it good for her until she was as twisted up in me as I was becoming by her.

“Let’s go look at the bedrooms and you can choose which one you want to stay in.”

“I’m not sleeping with you?”

She lobbed me that opening perfectly. For once, I chose not to take it. “No.” Her lips pressed together and for a minute I thought she was disappointed. The fuck? Had I read her wrong? “Unless you want to. Trust me, I won’t turn you down if you decide to climb on in with me.”

Her eyes slid to me and that glare was back, making me grin and feel like a dick all at once.

“I’ll take my own room.”

“Okay, then.”

I took her upstairs, knowing exactly which room she’d like. With the way she was drawn to the pool and the view, barely sparing my living room or kitchen a glance, there was only one room that had a view and private balcony comparable to mine.

It was also where Sophie stayed when she and her family came here.

Which meant I wouldn’t be screwing her in a room where my sister and her husband had probably done it multiple times—not that I wanted to think about that, either.

“Your house is so beautiful,” Claudia said, eyes drinking everything in as we made our way to the stairway. “Did you decorate it?”

“Ah, no.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Sophie did, actually.”

“Does she do this for a living or something? She did everything perfectly.”

“Fourth grade teacher, but I’ll tell her you approve. She spent three times more than the budget I gave her and took twice as long.”

She smiled. It was faint but it still stole my breath. “Typical woman.”

“And she’s got jokes,” I replied, mimicking what she’d said to me earlier.

Cheeks turning pink, she looked away. “I don’t. Not usually.”

Interesting. I’d delve into why that embarrassed her more later.

I reached the door at the end of the hall, opposite the side of the house of mine and waited for her. “Sophie and Kevin usually stay in this room. I thought you’d like it the most. It’s got a helluva view. Almost as good as mine.”

I opened the door and walked in, holding it open for Claudia to follow in behind me. Her reaction didn’t disappoint. As soon as she stepped into the room her breath caught and her eyes went wide.

“Goodness,” she whispered, moving straight toward her private balcony. “I just don’t know how you could ever leave a home like this and return to L.A.”  She whipped her head around. “You do live in L.A. Right?”

I’d been touring for almost three straight years. I owned three different houses but didn’t consider any of them home. My tour bus was more of a home than any of my houses. I hadn’t lived in any long enough to really make it mine which was why I usually gave that job to Sophie during her summer breaks from school.

“L.A. and New York,” I confirmed.

“Which do you like more?”

Neither. Some days, I really fucking missed the slowness of Kansas.

“I spend most of my time in L.A.”

She smiled sweetly, lips pressed together. A hint of little lines deepened at the edges of her eyes. “That’s not really an answer.”

I shrugged and slid my hands into my jeans. “It’s the best I can give. Where are you from?”

“Georgia.” She said it abruptly and turned back to the window, opening the latch on the sliding glass door and stepped outside.

Oh-kay. What the hell was that?

Funny how she’d drill me for answers when I had a Wikipedia page full of information yet she didn’t talk about herself.

But it was another hint at who she was—or who she was hiding from—because this girl was definitely hiding from someone, even if it was herself.