How Good It Was, page 2
Wow. She wasn’t expecting depth. “I don’t know. Maybe . . .” She tapped her lip. What about the time she passed a hundred million subscribers? Or perhaps it was the first movie she’d starred in—
“Warner. Get on with it. We’ll be there before you answer. Gut answers only. What memory?”
“I know. A day at the beach in Malibu, with my best friend, Riley, and her French bulldog, Tallulah. She dug so many holes she fell asleep on the blanket and snored for an hour.”
Luke grinned. “Riley or Tallulah?”
“Tallulah, obviously. What about you?”
“The Christmas I got my first drum kit. Still have that kit in a cupboard at home. Okay, next question. What’s on the top of your bucket list?”
“Umm. Oh, these are tough. I want to take the Trans-Siberian Express from Moscow to Vladivostok. It’s the longest direct train journey in the world, I think.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Adventure. Okay, I want the band to make the cover of Rolling Stone. You ask one.”
“Favourite book?”
“Boring. Try again.”
“If you think books are boring, we can’t be friends.”
“Do you have to be friends to be lovers? Oh, shit. That’s a good question. Do you?”
“Why do I always have to answer first?”
Luke grinned. “Fair point. No. You don’t. You have to be attracted to someone.” He ran his fingertip along the neckline of her T-shirt, across the rise of her breast. “There needs to be a spark. Something simmering. But friends? No.”
Her brain was shouting yes, but the sensation of his finger on her skin and the way his voice rumbled was short-circuiting her decision-making functions. “I think it helps.”
Luke removed his finger. “Fair enough. You need bail. Who do you call?”
“I could pay my own bail and not have to bother anybody.”
“Fair play. I like a financially independent woman, seeing I’m practically broke. I’d call Alex. He couldn’t afford to bail me out on his own, but I’d trust him to raise bail by getting everyone to chip in.”
“But all that,” she said, gesturing back toward the stadium.
“Huge misnomer that bands with record deals are swimming in cash. What you did for us was incredible, using our song like that in one of your videos. You’ve no idea how much it helped us. But we are a long way from being loaded. We’re all up to our eyeballs in debt we need to pay down. Fingers crossed that will improve once the album is out.”
“What one line someone has said hit you the hardest?” she asked.
Luke opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, before rubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose. “He’s gone, Luke.”
“Luke.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“Good question,” he said briskly, obviously not wanting to dwell on his answer. “You?”
She remembered the agent who had dropped her at thirteen. “Perhaps if puberty had been kind to her, she would have been fine, but look at her.”
“Who said that to you?”
“Someone who doesn’t matter.”
They pulled up outside the hotel, and Luke paid before he climbed out and took her hand. The street was quiet as the cab drove off. Willow darted for the door, and he followed her inside the lobby.
“Wait,” Luke said, stopping her from heading to the elevators. “I want to tell you what I know about you.” He cupped her cheek, and she pressed a kiss to his palm. “You’re at your happiest with sunshine, friends, and dogs who snore. The simple things in life are more important than things money can buy. But you have an adventurer’s heart. You want to travel and see the parts of the world less travelled. You want to escape the mundane. You love to read, which I won’t hold against you. You’d prefer there to be more than just lust before you sleep with someone. You’re independent in what you want to do and the funds you need to do it. But you’re lonely. Because if you really needed to be friends with someone to sleep with them, you wouldn’t be here with me. And maybe that lack of confidence comes from some dick-for-brains judging your looks for who knows what reason.”
For a moment, Willow was speechless. She was happy when there was simplicity. And she did want to escape. Escape the life her dad had created for her where she pumped out content like a machine. All of it. Her social media platform had helped overcome some of her insecurity, but she was lonely. “How did you . . . ?”
“What do you know about me?” he asked.
She thought back to his answers. “Your music is important to you. Your favourite memory is your drum kit, and you aren’t selfish, because your bucket list was something for the band to achieve, not just yourself. That feeling is reciprocated by the rest of the band, because Alex would help the others organise your bail, and you know you aren’t on your own. You don’t like reading, which I suggest is because you were always an active child. It takes a brave parent to buy a child a drum kit. And I’m guessing the words that killed you was that someone. Music, love, family, loss, parents are all interconnected. Which is also why you believe friendship isn’t necessary for sex. Because, then, feelings don’t get involved.”
Luke leaned forward and brushed her lips with his, gently at first, then more deeply as his tongued touched hers. “We aren’t strangers anymore.”
“No. We aren’t.”
“Are we friends enough?”
She knew more about what was important to him than anything about the friends she hung out with at home. “Yes.”
“You still want to go to your room with me?”
Her stomach flipped at the very idea. He was so much taller than she was. Rougher than she was. But somehow, his simple questions had made her certain. “Yes.”
“Good.” He led her to the elevator, and she pushed the button. When they stepped inside, he gripped the back of her neck. “You want anything to stop, you just tell me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Tell me three things you like in bed, Will.”
“What I’ve liked so far, or what I’d like to try?”
Luke grinned, his dimples popping. “Both. But I’m defo interested in the latter.”
“I want someone who won’t treat me like glass, someone who pushes me. I want something rough and dirty, not chaste and clinical.” Her cheeks burned with heat as she looked down at the floor.
“Keep talking.”
“I don’t know what else to say. I feel like I’ve never had mind-blowing sex.”
“You want the kind of sex that leaves you breathless and sweaty and hanging halfway off the bed. The kind of sex where you fight to get closer or deeper. No matter how hard you try, you want more. Within minutes of it being over, you can’t wait to do it again. You want to feel stripped down raw, like your soul has been ripped out of your chest.” Luke put his forefinger beneath her chin and tipped her face to his.
“Yes,” she whispered. “For once, I want to feel like that.”
The elevator pinged and the door opened. “What room?”
She held out the key card to him. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
But she wasn’t sure if she meant in bed, or just in general.
Luke checked out Willow’s waist as she walked ahead of him into her room.
The artificial high he’d been riding at the arena was beginning to fade, but what replaced it was a high unachievable by artificial stimulants. It was created when a woman looked at him like he was a fucking king. When she looked at him with need-filled eyes that told him only he could take the ache away.
It didn’t happen often.
Sure, lust was real. Being a drummer in a rock band riding an unexpected wave of success brought those kinds of opportunities in spades.
But the look in Willow’s eyes?
Yeah. That kind of connection didn’t happen every day.
He let the door click shut behind him, then tugged his still damp T-shirt over his head. “I’m going to shower really quick. I don’t want you to join me . . . well, that’s not actually accurate. I’d love for you to shower with me. But you and me and hot water and a whole heap of skin will lead to a pretty quick fuck. And that’s not what you need, is it?”
Willow looked up at him, complete with a soft pink pout. Jesus Christ. Doe-eyed did it to him every fucking time.
“No. Well, not yet, at least.” Her cheeks took on a rosy hue.
“Not yet,” he huffed. “Going to be the death of me, Willow. Get naked. Wash your face. Whatever it is you do to get ready for bed. Feel free to come in and use the bathroom. I’m not shy. But be in that bed, naked, before I’m done.”
Luke tugged his clothes off, throwing them over a bench near the dresser, and walked into the bathroom. He turned the water to cool, his body running hot from playing and thinking about what he’d like to do with Willow.
Then he tried to stop thinking about the things he wanted to do to Willow because he was too amped up. Instead, he thought about the best players to ever wear a Man City jersey. Colin Bell, maybe. Five hundred appearances were damn impressive. David Silva would be on the list. Probably Aguero.
By the time he was clean, his heart rate was down and his dick still hard, but not to the point where one touch or lick would send him over the edge.
He rubbed a towel over his hair, then dried himself briskly. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he opened the door to the bedroom. Willow had done what he asked. He sat down next to her and rubbed a hand over her collar bone. The sheets of the bed were tucked under her armpits, and he gently tugged them down as he pressed his lips to hers.
Soft. Warm. Utterly kissable lips.
And responsive.
While he’d sensed a certain shyness, it seemed to be more around discussing sex rather than engaging in anything sexual.
“Mind-blowing, right?” he muttered.
“Yes, please.”
“In that case . . .” He dived over her onto the bed, tugging her with him until she lay on top of him. Willow squealed as the sheets tore away from their nicely tucked corners. “Playful. Nothing out of bounds unless we say. We fuck. We touch. We lick. We suck. Wherever we want it. Break for food. Showers. Power naps. Yeah?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Good. Come here, flower.” He cupped her cheeks firmly and pulled her mouth to his, groaning as she opened her legs to straddle him, her pussy separated from his cock by his bath towel. And thank fuck, because her tanned limbs pressed up against him revved his engine back to overdrive.
Running his hands down her body, he cupped her arse, encouraging her to grind against his dick.
Willow’s eyes were wide. “Luke.”
He rolled them over so he could guide the movement, and Willow lifted her thighs to his hips. “You like that?”
“Oh, God. Yes.”
Luke grinned against her lips. “Good to know.” He knelt up, and tugged his towel off, throwing it to the floor. “Touch me,” he instructed.
“Where?”
He glanced down at his dick, then bit his lower lip. “Anywhere you’d like, flower.”
With tentative fingers, she ran her hand down his abs, over his ink. The mosaic of his life and loves. A black-and-white tattoo of his father in his firefighter uniform, the last picture of him in it before he died. The Manchester City logo. Bees and honeycomb. His mum and sister’s date of birth. The date his dad died. History she didn’t know and never would, because tonight was about something much baser.
Her hand hovered above his dick, her eyes looking to his for permission. “Grip it, flower.”
She did. Hard like he asked, then she licked the tip. Tentative at first. Just tongue.
“Suck it,” he instructed, smoothing her hair back from her face gently.
Lips, tongue, saliva, all wrapped around him. Some guys worried about technique, Luke was a fan of enthusiasm. “Hmm,” he groaned, sighing deeply as he held back the urge to thrust into her mouth. That would come later. When they knew each other a little better.
He pulled back, knowing full well that if he stayed in her warmth for too much longer, he’d pass the point of no return, and one thing his father had always drilled into him—always be a gentleman.
Which meant ladies first.
“You’ve got a pretty gifted mouth. Want to see if mine is any good?” he asked, climbing off the end of the bed.
Willow leaned up on her elbows. “Show me.”
Luke grinned, reached for her feet, and pulled her to the edge of the bed, where he knelt down between her legs. “I need room,” he said.
Willow laughed. “You move me around like I weigh nothing.”
“You do weigh nothing. Plus, drummer’s arms. They’re pretty strong.”
She sat up and ran her palms down them. “I like them.”
“They happen to like you too. Now, lay back and let me work my magic.”
Willow didn’t. She stayed seated, watching him as he deliberately spread her lips and flicked her clit with his tongue. He felt her body clench beneath his hands as her hands fisted in the bedding.
“Feel free to grip my hair. Turns me on,” he said, before dragging his tongue along the length of her.
A woman’s body was a thing of beauty. Watching it come to sexual life beneath his fingers kicked up his own arousal.
Willow flopped back down on the bed and did as he’d said. She gripped his hair, holding him to her clit, as he circled and lapped it furiously.
Her hips raised off the bed.
He debated holding them down, but he loved the way she writhed with abandon beneath him.
“Luke,” she cried out, as he curved his finger to reach that spot inside that could give her what she wanted.
“You want this now?” His voice was muffled, but he didn’t want to move. The sweet taste of her coated his tongue.
“Please. I want it.”
He doubled down on his endeavours, increasing the thrust of his fingers, the pressure of his tongue. Willow gripped hard on his hair as she cried out, the sound a cross between surprise and pleasure.
He eased her down before kissing her thigh and raising his head. “Good?”
“The best,” she sighed.
“You . . . are fucking gorgeous.” Her face was flushed with orgasm, her eyes heavy. “Ready for round two?”
“Definitely. But just out of interest, how many rounds are there?”
“As many as we can manage.” He rolled her over, so her stomach lay flat on the bed, her knees on the floor. “Stay there.”
Luke grabbed his jeans, grateful that he had two condoms on him. He’d ask if Willow had some later.
He put one on and turned to face her. She was watching him. Her hair all mussed, a shy smile on her face. “Keep your eyes on me if you can. I like it.”
“You’re pretty easy to watch, Luke.”
Suddenly, he felt like a shit. Lovely girl, responsive body, wanted something more than the pedestrian sex she’d had before. But bending her over the bed or fucking her in the shower or up against the wall . . . It all seemed too, shit, seedy wasn’t the right word.
“Are you okay?” Willow asked.
He reached for her, picked her up, and sat on the edge of the bed with her on his lap. Gently, he kissed her lips, trying to rein it in as her body began to move against his. It took nothing to turn her on. Her body knew what it needed, but . . .
“You sure you want it this way, flower? I can lay you back in these sheets. We can take it easy.”
Willow’s eyes flashed. “I get one night, Luke. One night with you. One night to escape the confines of who I usually have to be every day. Show me what I’m missing. Don’t hold back or be nice or go easy. That’s not what I signed up for. Is it because I’m not doing this right or—?”
“Whatever shit is rumbling through your head, stop,” he said, gripping her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I just looked over at you and you looked so fucking pretty, and for a second I wondered why you would want to do this with me—which believe me, is not my normal state of mind.”
Willow placed her head on his shoulder. “My relationship with sex is complicated . . . well, I just . . . sex has always been pleasant. And I figured if I had sex with you—and yes, I’ve read all the gossip posts about you—if it was still only pleasant, then it must be me, right?”
Luke sucked on her lower lip, then bit it gently. “Has it been pleasant so far?”
Willow shook her head. “Most definitely not . . . in a good way, obviously.”
“Do you need more evidence that it’s not you?”
Willow slipped her hand between them and gripped his dick firmly. “If I said yes?”
“Then it would be my duty to provide you with that evidence.”
“Then yes. I need more evidence, Luke. The kind you were going to show me before you got worried about me, which was spectacularly sweet.”
Luke huffed. “I’m not a sweet guy, Will.”
“I beg to differ. You took the time to get to know me. You showered. You asked me what I wanted and gave me outs.”
“I don’t know what kind of guys you’ve been hanging out with, but those things don’t make me sweet. That’s the bare minimum you should expect from any guy.”
“And yet . . . I don’t want any guy. I want you. Please, Luke.”
He kissed her, firmly, then messily, until she was reaching for him, squirming on his lap with need.
“Where were we?” he asked, standing with her in his arms.
When he put her feet on the ground, she knelt back over the bed. “I think we were here.”
Her smile made him melt as he knelt down behind her, nudging her knees a little wider. He ran his hands down her back, his fingertips following either side of her spine, watching as her hips wiggled in anticipation.
He wrapped her hair around his hand and lowered his lips to her shoulder. “Ready?” he murmured.
“Yes.” The words came out on a gasp as he let his dick slide between her cheeks. Pulsing in anticipation, he lined his dick up with her entrance. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped, as he slid into her, working back and forth until he was seated deep inside her.
