Because of Luke Page 3

  Roscoe always says sex is the best stress reliever, and I doubt I've ever been wound so tight. But then again sex is all he thinks about.

  The door opens again, but just enough for Sheila to fit her tight little body through. This time she locks it behind her. She's got a bottle of Budweiser in one hand and a Coors Light in the other. She hands me the Bud, then perches on the window sill, her skirt riding so far up I can almost see her crotch. She's got on knee-high Doc Martens and she bends over, unlaces them then kicks them off.

  "Nice room you have here." She tips her bottle, taking a long slow sip. "I like your posters," she adds with a grin.

  "Thanks," I mumble. My face grows hot and I swig my own beer. Girls don't come in my room. At least not ones that aren't hung over and deposited there after a night with Roscoe. No one does. So the dozens of pictures of Cindy Crawford, Sheena Easton and Stephanie Seymour that have been hanging on my wall for the past several years have never been a source of embarrassment until now. Only inspiration.

  "Well, it's good to know you like brunettes." She stretches her leg toward me.

  I chug my beer this time and lick my lips, caught in her stare again. "Is the party boring you?" I ask.

  "No, I can just think of better things to do." Her eyes sparkle and she rests her bottle down on the window sill.

  I don't have to ask what. It's written all over her face, practically exudes from her goddamn pores. She wants me and I can't think of any reason not to say yes. Giving in, just this once, doesn't make me like my asshole father or my overzealous brother. It just makes me a man. What man can say no to an offer like that?

  Sheila seems to sense my desire and she gets up from her seat to stand directly in front of me.

  I'm clutching the bottle so hard I swear it'll break and it takes more than a little tug for her to release it from my grip.

  "Do you have a girlfriend, Luke?"

  I shake my head.

  "Why?"

  "Too busy, I guess."

  "That's right." She runs her fingers up my arm. "You're the scholar."

  "Hmm?" I'm so hard right now. It's the weed. I shouldn't have smoked tonight. I wouldn't be letting her get to me if I wasn't so damn high. But how was I supposed to know I'd be ambushed in my own room? I should have locked the door. I'm going to do things to this girl I've only fantasized about. She doesn't know what she's getting herself into.

  "You're the scholar," she says again. "Roscoe's the playboy, Ryan's the rich boy, and Dash is..." She frowns. "I don't know what Dash is. I haven't quite pegged him yet."

  "Angry," I reply.

  "What?" Her fingers are at my neck now and she's toying with the collar of my shirt.

  "He started banging on those drums because he was so pissed off all the time. His stepdad's a douche and his mom's kind of an idiot. Who knew he'd actually be good at it?"

  She laughs and I join in with a soft chuckle. "Is that true?"

  I nod. "God's honest."

  Sheila takes another step toward me, like there's any more space between us that needs closing. She's practically on top of me and I've got nowhere to go but forward. Her hands move to either side of my face, and I do my best not to tense up.

  "You're cute," she says. Her breath smells like a mix of liquor, weed and mint. But her lips... Goddammit. I need to taste those lips.

  My wish comes true when she presses them to mine and sinks her warm tongue into my mouth. And those lips taste like fucking honey. I've lost all control now and I pull her toward me. She fits easily into the space between my legs and I'm so hard now it feels like I'll burst out of these jeans any second.

  Sheila's hands move down my sides and slip under my shirt. They're kind of cold, so I flinch. That only seems to make her hotter, because she yanks my shirt up over my head so fast it makes me dizzy. Then she stands back, taking it all in. With her index finger she traces the tattoo on my collarbone, then leans forward to nick my shoulder with her teeth. This makes me flinch again, but not like before. This time it sends a desperate signal to my southern region.

  When she pulls away, it's like a blanket being yanked off in the middle of the night. I watch as she loosens the strings to her top and they fall away, slipping down her shoulders. She reaches both hands behind her and in seconds I'm faced with tits so perky it's like they have a mind of their own. Instead of coming back to me, like I want her to, Sheila turns around taking slow strides toward my bed. Then just when I think she can't get any hotter she hooks her thumbs on either side of her skirt and peels it down revealing a tight ass, covered only by the very thin string of a bright red thong.

  She's sticking her ass out so far, I know she's fishing and I take the bait. Fumbling with my belt, I walk toward her, stopping inches away. I drop my pants and step out of them, then circle my arms around her waist and lead her skin to skin to the edge of the bed.

  Her lips taste like honey, but her skin is like chocolate. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she bathed in it before she got here. I'm sitting up and Sheila, still in her underwear, is straddling me. Her fingers rake through my hair as I trail my tongue in between her cleavage, then pull one of her swollen pink nipples into my mouth. She squeezes my waist between her thighs, letting out little gasps as I graze her breasts lightly between my teeth.

  "You're so hot," she whispers in my ear.

  It sends a shiver through me. And I raise her up, pulling her thong to the side. She's slick and hot against my fingers and I have to force myself to calm down. Not to throw her on the bed and take what by the end of this night will inevitably be mine. I don't know why I care. She came in my room for a reason, threw herself at me and stripped down for a fucking reason. I don't know why I care. But I do.

  My mouth finds hers again and the sweet and tangy flavor, sends me into a trance.

  It probably has more to do with the mixture of weed and beer but, whatever it is, it's the most calm I've felt in days. Scratch that, years.

  Sheila rolls off me and onto her back and I hover over her. I'm pulsing so hard it hurts and I'm ready to spread her wide open and find some kind of Zen inside her sweetness. But I hold back, waiting for her to make her move. I don't want to seem too eager. Ten minutes ago, I'd convinced myself not to end up in this situation. Tonight I am weak minded and who knows what I'll do.

  We roll around on the bed for a few more minutes, hands everywhere except where it counts. After a while, my fingers drift back down to her center, and I trail them over her clit sending her almost instantly into convulsions. She's sighing and moaning all over the place and it's driving me insane, but I can't bring myself to make a bolder move. So I just keep feeling around like an idiot. My middle finger is creeping deeper into her and every time it gets just a little bit closer, she quivers. I take it as my cue and keep dipping further. But the further I get the more rattled my brain feels.

  There's something in the way. Something that won't allow me to reach the part of her that will give me permission to do a hell of a lot more. Something is literally barring my entry. I frown, then thrust my hand forward.

  Sheila moans, but it sounds more like a little shriek and that's when I clue in.

  Holy shit.

  "Are you..?" I pull back, bolting off her.

  Her eyes are wide, as she balks back. "What's wrong?"

  "Are you kidding me, sweetheart?" I move to the edge of the bed and reach for my jeans.

  "You're just going to leave me hanging?" she asks.

  I shake my head and toss her skirt in her direction. "Get dressed. There's no way I'm banging a virgin I just met."

  I pull my jeans on and search the room for my shirt. What the fuck almost just happened? Would it have happened? What girl wants to lose it to a guy they barely know? Who is this crazy chick?

  When I look back at her she's securing her top over her tits, and her bottom lip is pushed out, her eyebrows drawn down.

  "You can't seriously be pissed at me for this," I say.

  When her eyes meet
mine, it's like I'm looking at a completely different person. The deep aqua that unnerved me earlier has been transformed to a pale blue and I'm pretty sure I see a hint of tears.

  "Look, sweetheart. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. If anything, I'm doing you a favor. You are..." I lick my lips searching for words that I know can't do her justice. "You're smoking hot. Save that shit for someone who cares. Not some horny bastard who's so fucked up he won't remember it in the morning."

  A sweet smile curves on her lips and she gets up off the bed, fully dressed. "Fine, Luke," she says. "Let's just get to know each other better then."

  She stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then she picks up her boots, crosses the room, and disappears through the doorway.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Shannon

  I lock the door behind me and slowly make my way up the stairs. I don't have a good feeling about tonight. My stomach's been in knots ever since she told me about this party. Going to see a band play is one thing, but going to some guy’s house she doesn't even know is another. Anything could happen and I'm honestly afraid to let my mind go there.

  "They're gone," I say quietly as I step through the door.

  Sheila rolls out of the bed, tossing the blankets to the side. "I have to fix my make-up." She grabs the bag from the desk. "What time is it?"

  "Six-fifteen." I trail behind her, leaning up against the bathroom doorway as she peers in the mirror.

  She puckers her lips, adding another layer of pink, shimmery gloss, then straightens her bangs. "How do I look?"

  "Great," I say. Because fine won't cut it and sexy will only encourage her.

  "I can't believe I'm going to Ryan Harris' house. It's not even a house, it's a freaking mansion. And I'm going. As a VIP! Do you know how big this is?"

  "Sheila." I take a deep breath and a step forward. "I don't know if I can cover for you again." Rather, I'm not sure I want to.

  "Sure you can. Mom and Dad think I'm sick. When you get up in the morning tell them you're staying home to take care of me. They won't even bother to check in. Not like you haven't done it before." She snickers.

  She's right, but she wasn't actually sick. She was hung-over and I didn't exactly want to stay up half the night, holding her hair while she puked and miss a morning of classes to feed her water and painkillers. But that's what sisters do. They cover for each other.

  I wasn't always the studious college girl. Back in high school I was just as wild, if not a tiny bit worse. As reckless as I was back then, I could have ended up dead in a gutter more than once. I'm just lucky and I can't guarantee she will be.

  "Couldn't you skip this one?" I ask. "Come to the library with me. You've got that English paper due on Monday, don't you?"

  Sheila frowns at me through the mirror. "Are you serious? Shannon, there is no way I'm missing this party."

  "Why not?"

  She turns around all the way, hands on her hips. "Didn't you just hear what I said?"

  I sigh. "Yeah, Ryan something-or-other's mansion. But there'll be plenty of parties. You're almost done school. Why bother with the sneaking around when you'll be able to do whatever you want next year anyway?"

  She crosses her arms now. And I know what she's thinking without her even having to say it.

  She's entitled to her years of fun and I can't deprive her of that.

  "I just wish you could find good old fashion drunken fun right here in Palouse." I laugh the moment the words come out of my mouth and she joins in.

  "I know what you're doing," she says after a few seconds. "And you don't have to. I'll be okay. Don't worry about me." She smirks. "I never worried about your bad ass."

  She reminds me so much of myself it makes me sick. Only when I snuck out it wasn't to another freaking state.

  "What about after the party?" I ask.

  "Coco's. Her dad's out of town so I'll just crash there and she'll drop me off early tomorrow." She turns back to the mirror. "Unless of course I find somewhere else to crash, then I'll be home by noon. I promise."

  "Somewhere else like where?" I raise an eyebrow, eyeing her reflection.

  Sheila's face goes pink and she caps her mascara, shoving it back into the makeup bag. "I met this guy."

  "Oh, no." I hold my head in one hand. "Please tell me you are not sleeping with that Robert guy. Ew, Sheila. Isn't he like thirty?"

  "His name's Roscoe and he's not thirty, he's twenty five and it's not him. He has a girlfriend and I kind of have a thing with someone else."

  I raise both brows this time. But she simply zips the case and squeezes past me back into the room.

  "I mean, I don't want to jinx anything. It was just one night. But, I don't know, it could be more."

  "Nice," I say, following behind her. "A one night stand. Classy."

  "See now that's where you're mistaken." She spritzes herself with my bottle of Obsession.

  I snatch it from her, shoving it into my back pocket.

  "We met the other night, but soon he'll be seeing me every day for the next three months."

  "What do you mean?"

  She grins. "I'll tell you later."

  "Is he in that band?"

  "Yes, but he's not the fan favorite. He's my favorite." She grins. "And it's not like I'm going to keep throwing myself at him or anything. I've just given him a taste and hopefully, if all goes as planned, he'll be back for more without me even having to lift a finger."

  "Don't you mean drop your panties?" I roll my eyes, but inside I'm freaking out.

  Please tell me you didn't.

  "I didn't sleep with him," Sheila turns a glower on me. "We just played around a little bit. My virgin status is still very firmly in place. Mom and Dad would be proud. All he's got to do is wait another couple months and I'm all his." Sheila winks.

  "Just be careful," I say, my tone serious. "Guys hate to be teased. One of these days, playing around isn't going to be enough and he’s going to expect you to give him what he really wants."

  She shakes her head. "This guy's not like that. He's gentle and apprehensive. It's sweet."

  I sigh. No matter what I say she's not going to listen. Sheila's always been one of those learn-the-hard-way type of kids. But it doesn't mean I shouldn't give her fair warning.

  "Just...be yourself, okay? Don't force it. Whatever he's showing you right now, be careful. He's still a guy and guys don't like games."

  Sheila stands in the middle of the room and does a little twirl. The flowing blue mini dress is striking against her skin tone and the color makes her eyes look ten times brighter. A wave of panic slips through me but I push it away.

  "You look very nice," I say. "Do you have your bear spray?" I add after a moment's thought.

  Sheila laughs. "Yes, sis. Ready to take down anyone who gets too grabby."

  She picks up my purse and, though my first instinct is to scold her for not asking to borrow it, I leave it alone and do my best to calm down. Getting out of this stuffy house once in a while is a necessity if you ever plan to survive. And she will. Being a little wild isn't the only thing she's learned from me. She's strong too.

  I reach over and give her a quick hug. "Try to call me later. Okay? I'll be at the library until ten, but I'll be home before Mom and Dad. Don't forget to call."

  I watch her climb into the Acura parked in the driveway and bite my lip, my heart racing again. Letting my seventeen-year-old sister skip town for a night is stupid. As much as I want her to have a good time, I'm her big sister and I'm supposed to protect her. This doesn't feel much like protection. A big part of me wants to run out the front door and drag her back inside, but a bigger part knows she'd kill me. This is her life. In a few months, she'll be eighteen. I need to get used to the idea that little Sheila Carlson isn't so little anymore. And she might not need me as much as she once did.

  Sheila

  A big part of me doesn't want to show up tonight. The part that dreads seeing Luke again. My stomach's been queasy ever s
ince and if I could drop kick myself, I would.

  What was I thinking, throwing myself at him like that? It was impulsive and stupid. And so far out of the range of what a freaking tour manager is supposed to do. But I felt like I was losing control, like no matter what I said, I couldn't hold his attention. So I got desperate.

  I blame the weed. I've only smoked a few times, but every time I do I act like an idiot. A few drinks and I pretty much have control of any situation, but weed makes me stupid. And that was definitely stupid.

  I wanted to die when he jumped off of me the way he did. It was so humiliating. But after what he said, I know he's the one for me. I know I can make him happy, I just have to show him.

  The plan I devised mid-conversation with my sister is a good one. Luke had a taste of something good. He told me to my face I was smoking hot and there's no doubt, that over the next few months I can find a way to win him over. Obviously sex won't do it. He's not like the others. And in a way it's refreshing. Because other than those dirty movies Coco and I stole from her brother's room, I have zero experience in that department.

  I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. He's so different than all the rest. Not just because he's smart and into the school stuff. It's more than that. He's kind. And as sexy as Roscoe and Dash look all covered in tattoos and piercings, I've realized it's not all it's cracked up to be. I've been attracted to seriously inked guys for so long, I didn't even know I could find a bare skinned man so hot.

  Luke has exactly two tattoos: an armband and a collar. Every other inch of his beautifully smooth skin is bare and I've never been more turned on. Apart from rippling abs and chiseled pecs, he's not exactly a body builder either. He's just a regular guy. One you might have a crush on in high school. Not the football player or the muscle-head wrestler. The band geek with sex appeal. So, not really a geek at all.

  I smile. Not. At. All.

  There is more to him than I ever imagined. After the other night, it's clear he's genuinely concerned with the well-being of others. Plus he's incredibly gentle. The way he touched me...