Because of Luke Page 17

  "Wait." I throw the sheets off me and move to his side. It isn't until I register the look of shock masking a wave of desire on his face that I remember I'm half-naked. I make a move to cover up, then think better of it.

  Luke just kissed me. Full on sucked my face, like he's been wanting to do it since the day we met. I'm not about to let him just walk out of here. And even though this isn't exactly how I imagined us finally getting together, I'm so lonely, I don't care. So what if I'm his rebound? If I can be his, even for just one night, it'll make what would otherwise have been another awful one a hell of a lot better.

  I place both palms on his chest and stare up at him. "You didn't come in here by accident," I say. "You didn't kiss me by accident either. Everything happens for a reason." I step closer and rise up on my tiptoes. Luke takes a small step back but I don't let it deter me. "I've been trying to get you to notice me for weeks, do you really think I'm just going to let you walk out that door after a kiss like that?"

  "I can't," he whispers, his eyelids drooping.

  "Why not?" I reach behind me and unhook my bra.

  "Sheila." His hands fly to my shoulders, stopping the garment mid-descent.

  But I pull my arms out of the straps anyway. "Please," I say. "It would be the best birthday present anyone has ever given me." I allow my lower lip to slowly retreat from the space between my teeth and cock my head to the side.

  Without waiting for another response I move my hands to the hem of his shirt and walk my fingers around his waist and up his back. His muscles tense but, at the same time, his body draws closer to mine.

  "Kiss me again," I whisper. "You're such a good kisser."

  Luke

  I wake up from the most insane dream with a start and my hands immediately fly to the sides of my head.

  "Shit." I squeeze my eyes closed and ease back onto the pillow. The wicked grin disappears when I realize where I am. Off to my side, the lamp is still on, flooding the room with a dull orange light. The little pink box I toted in here earlier is half open, pink frosting and glitter smeared down the side. Next to my head is a tangled mess of dark hair, letting out soft rhythmic moans.

  In my dream, I was with both of them. The virgin I avoided tarnishing until last night and the girl I can't get off my mind. Both with a pair of eyes that'll make any man squirm and hands that'll make every man come back for more.

  Sheila had been more spectacular than I ever could have imagined. Ever. If I didn't know any better...but I do. I felt it firsthand. She hadn't given it up to a single soul, she just made it look like she did. The way she kissed me, the way she touched me, the look on her face when she straddled me and ground on top of me. A virgin with the skills of a pro.

  Or maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just that fucking drunk.

  Sheila moans and turns over, snuggling up next to me, marring my chance of an escape. I shouldn't be here when she wakes up. I haven't even figured out my next move. I just fucked a virgin. Roscoe says to stay away from virgins. They get clingy and needy. Taking a girl's innocence is equal to giving up your freedom. I glance to the side. But Sheila isn't innocent. Not one bit.

  It's never seemed right, continuing to sleep with a girl you're not really into. I've always avoided it. It makes me feel like the badass I'm not. Like a user. The way I got used.

  My mind drifts to Shannon and I clench my jaw. What the hell was I thinking? So she got scared, freaked out a little. I can convince her to hear me out. She'll eventually miss me and start taking my calls. Maybe I could even surprise her. Show up at the school again. It'll be romantic, remind her of why she fell for me in the first place. Because she did. I know she did.

  It's been three weeks since we met in Seattle. Three weeks since she blamed me for the mess her life is in and decided I wasn't worth it. She drew me in and cut me off. Just like that. Maybe moving on like I just did wasn't a bad idea at all.

  I slip out from beneath Sheila's arm and leg to the edge of the bed. My dick is so hard I know there's only one way to settle it down. But I can't go there. Not again. My brother's gonna kill me.

  I need to get out of here before the guys get back. The last thing I want is to be reminded about my lapse in judgment every day for the next few weeks. It'll blow over. I was drunk, she was lonely, it was...a birthday gift.

  I ball up my underwear and stash them inside the back pocket of my jeans.

  "Leaving so soon?" Sheila's voice freezes me in place as I reach over her to pick up my shirt.

  "Hey," I smile. "Was going to head back out before...you know."

  "Don't want your brother to yell at you?" She rolls onto her back and brushes her hair from her face. "There's nothing going on between us, you know. Contrary to popular belief."

  "I know." I swallow hard, then turn my back and slip the shirt over my head. "It's not that."

  "What is it then?" The bed shifts and soft fingers trail across the back of my neck, followed by warm kisses.

  I'm going to fucking explode. I doubt I could stop my body from reacting if I wanted to. I grip the edge of the mattress commanding myself to continue with my escape before it's too late.

  "You were incredible," Sheila whispers. "Just like I knew you'd be."

  I laugh off my nervousness. "How would you know what incredible is? You've got nothing to compare me to."

  Her breath sends chills through my body as she lets out a soft sigh and climbs off the bed to stand in front of me. And now I'm just in pain. I cover my crotch with my t-shirt.

  Sheila is completely in the buff. Her hands are in her hair and she's piling the long nearly-black strands on top of her head, securing them with an elastic. Even covered in my sweat and sleepy-eyed she looks perfect. Like she's snapping a shot for fucking Playboy.

  Seeing her like this, bronze skin, perfect breasts, pink nipples just at the perfect height for devouring is the last thing I need. It isn't aiding my escape one bit.

  "See something you like?" she giggles.

  I shake my head, then close my eyes. When I gather up the nerve to open them again, she is standing so close I can feel the heat from her skin. She yanks my t-shirt from me, urges me back with a forceful shove and climbs on top of me.

  "What kind of virgin are you?" I don't mean to ask the question, but I seem to have lost the filter between my mind and my mouth.

  "I'm no virgin anymore," she replies, hovering above me. "Thanks to you."

  "Sheila," I protest as she reaches behind her and turns back revealing another condom. "Not now. They'll be back any second."

  "So what?"

  She rips it open. With her fucking teeth. Damn this girl.

  "Aren't you sore?"

  "No."

  "Don't you want, I don't know, privacy?"

  "This is private," she says. "We're in my room."

  I grab her hand when she reaches for my dick. "Wait. Not here. Not like this. You...you deserve better than to be taken in the back of a damn tour bus."

  It's total bullshit. But it seems to work.

  Her smile softens the seductive gaze she's been wearing since she straddled me and for the first time, I see something in her I hadn't noticed before. Honest-to-god innocence—or at least what's left of it.

  So maybe it isn't bull after all.

  She blinks thick, dark lashes and her aqua eyes shine as the smile widens. "I didn't know you were such a romantic."

  "There's a lot you don't know about me."

  "So you'll go out with me then?"

  "What?"

  "Take me on a date, buy me dinner, some wine instead of these disgusting beers and then...well, I have a feeling we'll think of something," she adds with a kiss.

  I feel myself nodding, even though I want to stop. I can't agree to this. I shouldn't. But it's a promise that just might get me out of this mess.

  "Sure," I say. "It's a date."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Sheila

  A hotel room. I sigh and fling
myself backwards onto the bed.

  The guys have played all twenty-two shows from Vancouver to Philly. And not only have they developed a major following, they've also made a hell of a lot more money.

  I've never been more ready to leave that stupid bus behind. Not that Roscoe will.

  The first thing I plan to do is have a bath. The less than stellar showers I've been lucky enough to snag over the past eight weeks have done a number on me. I feel and more than likely look like a cavewoman and I'm ready for a good shave and a long soak. I run my hands across the mattress, grinning like the sexual deviant I've become.

  Tonight, Luke and I do it in style.

  Trying to keep quiet in the middle of the night while the others sleep has proven difficult and sneaking in quickies in the middle of the day has become exhausting. I want to let go with him, like I did the first night. I need to.

  I'm a prune when I climb out of the tub, nearly two hours later, but so clean and shiny, I don't care. I've let my hair air dry into waves and am about to slip into the lingerie I snagged at the boutique down the street, when I recognize Roscoe's tell-tale guffaw in the hallway.

  I stand on my tiptoes and peer through the peephole. I catch a glimpse of him and a regular galley of girls, Dash and Ryan fooling around behind them. And Luke.

  I bite my lip. The moment they get started with their regular party, the two of us will get started with our own.

  Another hour goes by and I dial Luke's room for the fiftieth time, with no answer.

  "Come on, Luke. Of all the nights for you to pass out." I let out a heavy sigh and place the phone back in the receiver. "Looks like I'll just have to come to you."

  Removing my robe, I throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt over the red lace. I comb my fingers through my hair and blot my lips once in the bathroom mirror, before grabbing my key and slipping out into the hall.

  I knock on Luke's door four times and still get no answer. When I turn around to stalk angrily back to my room, Roscoe is lingering in the hallway just outside his suite door, a bucket of ice under is arm and a couple bottles of alcohol in one hand.

  "Looking for someone?" he asks.

  Shit. I must have looked desperate banging down Luke's door like that.

  I shrug. "I thought Luke might want to watch a movie, seeing as we're not stuck in a tour bus laden with half-naked women." I flip my hair over my shoulder. "Guess he must be sleeping already."

  Roscoe smirks. "Trust me, sleep's the furthest thing from his mind." He places the key in the lock. "I would have invited you, but I know how much you hate being stuck in a room laden with half-naked women."

  As the door to the suite opens, I catch a glimpse of Luke sitting on the sofa. There's a girl perched on his knee, whispering something in his ear. He looks completely uncomfortable and I take a step forward, instantly pissed. But Roscoe bars my way.

  "Ah, ah, ah...we had an agreement, remember? Carlson's space is Carlson's space." He nods behind him. "This isn't Carlson's space. Go back to your room. Watch a chick flick or something. We'll come get you in the morning when it's time to go."

  I'm so blinded with rage, as I stomp down the hallway, I don't even notice the man in the black suit standing in front of my door.

  "Whoa," he puts out both hands when I nearly crash into him. "You all right?"

  "Just fine," I mumble. "Perfect."

  "Maybe you could help me?" He pulls out a card and hands it to me. "I'm Jerry Cowell. Columbia A&R. I'm looking for Sheila Carlson. Roscoe Gold band manager? I was trying to track down the band after the show." He runs a hand over his bald head. "Man, those guys are elusive. Bill told me she's the one to talk to."

  My gaze drops to the card, my heart whirring so fast, I can't catch my breath. "Tour manager. I'm the tour manager," I manage to choke out. "How can I help you?"

  "Well, I'm on a bit of a deadline right now." He glances at his watch. "I've got a flight in an hour, but I'd like to sit down and chat with you at some point, if you have a chance."

  He doesn't say why but, based on the fact that he pretty much just tracked me down, I can guess.

  "Uh, sure."

  "Tell you what. I'm making plans to be at the Miami show. Maybe we could meet for drinks after." He chuckles. "Assuming you're legal."

  I nod. "Uh...sure."

  "Great." He offers me his hand, shaking mine twice. "See you in Miami."

  Holy shit. My legs are shaking as I burst back into my room and sink onto the edge of the bed.

  We made it. We just freaking made it!

  Luke

  I'm going to kill my brother for this. I roll off my bed, doing my best to avoid looking at the girl next to me.

  Jesus.

  I did everything in my power to get her off me last night, but she was more than a little persistent. I tried my hardest to escape that stupid party, but even drunk off his ass Roscoe managed to keep tabs on me. I don't know what his fucking deal is. But over the past few weeks, he's gotten more and more stupid. Constantly pushing girls in my face, getting angry when I spend time with Sheila. As far as he knows, we're just friends. But I think he might suspect otherwise.

  I asked him if he had a thing for her. If he did, I probably would have backed down, but he denied it. Insisted I was crazy and that he'd never cross that line. So, of course, telling him I already had was off the table.

  And now that I've been spending every bit of my spare time with her since that first night, we've grown close. We're friends, yeah. Pretty damn good friends at that. But there's also a hint of something more. Something I think I might like to explore.

  I never thought I get over Shannon, let alone find someone who came even close to her caliber, but I'm pretty sure I have. And I'm kinda happy.

  Now I'm stuck trying to explain this mess away.

  I stand in the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I didn't drink or smoke last night. I hoped to do it with her. But apparently I got high off everyone else's shit anyway.

  There's a knock at the door and I cringe.

  Damn it.

  My unwanted companion groans and I hold my breath.

  "Luke?" Sheila's muffled voice filters into the bathroom.

  Maybe if I don't say anything. Maybe if I just stand here, she'll go away.

  "Luke!" She calls again. "I know you're in there. Your brother told me."

  Damn him.

  I open the door a crack, ready to slip out, but Sheila's smarter than that. I should have just waited it out in the bathroom. She would have gone away eventually.

  She pushes past me, catches one glimpse of the girl on my bed and her eyes go wide.

  "I didn't...I tried to..."

  She blinks, then her eyes narrow and she stomps over to the bed.

  "Hey!" She knees the girl in the side. "Time for you to go."

  I've seen her do this dozens of times on the bus, but the way she stands there now—her petite frame rigid, her face bright red, I can tell she's doing everything in her power to keep it together.

  "Did you hear me? Get the fuck up and get the hell out."

  At this, the girl bolts out of the bed, then in the same fraction of a second, cradles her head in her hands. Sheila's already turned her back, converging on me with an angry glare.

  It takes another minute or so for the girl to wake up enough to figure out what's going on and, five minutes later, she's gone.

  I stand face to face with Sheila now. Her face is still red, eyes narrowed.

  "I didn't sleep with her. She was fully dressed. You saw her."

  She doesn't say anything at first. She just stands there, her chest heaving up and down, her eyes glossed over.

  "I didn't," I say again. "She followed me back here. She was drunk out of her mind. The only thing I could do was leave her in the hallway and I didn't. She tried to kiss me but I didn't touch her. I swear."

  Why am I trying to explain this away? Why do I even care? The two of us have been having fun, but we're not exclusive. I like he
r just a little more each day, but I haven't told her that.

  Sheila still doesn't speak. She won't even look at me.

  "I...I'm sorry you had to walk in on this. I am. But...well, it's not like we're anything really." That gets her attention and by the hurt look on her face, I suddenly don't want it anymore. I'd rather she stared at the floor than look at me like that. Like the way she looks at the others when they pull stupid shit. "I like you," I rush the words out. "I like being around you and...I think that's why I pushed her off. Because she wasn't you."

  Her expression softens a bit, but a tear rolls down her cheek and I still feel like an ass.

  "I didn't sleep with her," I say again. "I wouldn't do that."

  She reaches out suddenly to take my hand. "Okay," she says her voice still hoarse from the screaming. "I believe you."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Shannon

  Under normal circumstances, I would be completely disgusted by the fact that I'm cuddling with a piece of porcelain usually reserved for my ass, but these aren't normal circumstances. Something is very, very wrong. And I have the deepest, literally gut-wrenching feeling that I know exactly what it is.

  I heave another bowlful of air and rock back onto my heels. I can no longer tell the difference between natural lubricant and anguish induced tears. They're streaming down my cheeks, snot dripping from my nose, head pounding.

  I grab the damp towel from the sink and hold it over my face, simultaneously wiping myself clean and muffling a sob. How am I going to face my parents? How am I going to face Dave?

  I've done my best to look at the facts logically. I've been eating like a horse, and running like a stallion. At first I thought it was the running. After I got back from Seattle, my libido was off the charts. I wanted it bad and hanging around Dave with his hot new body wasn't helping—the way his ass rides high in those faded blue jeans, and his newly developed upper body flexes whenever he moves. His hugs alone had me wanting to jump his bones. So I tore out a page from his book and started running off the sexual frustration.