Consumed (17 page)

As I peek out of the blinds in the galley, I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet in anticipation of getting off of our bus. Two of the other drivers have already maneuvered bus into parking places. I watch as the rest of Your Toxic Sequel, and Cilla’s group, start to unload. There’s a white shuttle bus parked in between them, and Wyatt ducks inside of it, lugging a giant green duffel bag. 

Lucas slides up behind me, tickling my shoulder with his full lips. “Are we taking the shuttle too?” 

“We’re not even staying at the same hotel. When I told you I wanted you all to myself, I had no intention of half-assing it.” His voice slides over me like velvet. I turn my face sideways, and he strokes the outline of my face before nodding to the far end of the parking lot where a sleek, black 7-series BMW is parked. “I’ve dealt with the manager at the rental company—well, Kylie has on behalf of me—so they pulled some strings and made sure it was here for my arrival.”

Our bus starts to beep to indicate that we’re safely parked. In the center compartment, I hear a loud bang followed by an even louder curse from Sinjin. As soon as I yell to ask him if he’s okay and he growls that he is, I meet Lucas’s amused eyes. “So what about the key? Even Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe can’t pull off driving a car with no key.”

He smirks. “Since you have to know—they overnighted it to me.” To prove his point, he pulls me by the wrist out into the aisle of the bus and dangles a key fob over my face. 

My thoughts shift to a few nights ago, at the Dallas show when he had locked himself in the restroom for the sake of a call. “How long have you been planning this?”

“A while.”

I shake my head incredulously. “Do you always have to be different?” 

“Always.” He pulls me up against him, grinding his cock against the front of my body. The motion is rough, animalistic, and it makes me feel like the bus is spinning around. I try to touch him, but he holds my hand still. “Do you have to ask so many fucking questions?”

Breathlessly, I nod. “Always.” 

Our mouths inch closer, but as soon as his lips begin to skim mine, Sinjin coughs loudly. He’s bleary-eyed with his short black hair poking up all over the place. “It’s 6AM,” he complains, yawning. “All I want is a real bed, not to watch you two about to fuck on the table I eat on.”

Sin’s interruption gives us the much-needed boost to grab our stuff so we can leave. I’ve packed an overnight bag with enough clothing to last me through tomorrow night. It’s small in comparison to Lucas’s enormous bag, but he carries both off of the bus. I tote my purse along with my Gibson guitar and my laptop, though I have no plans for music or work. 

Or checking up on what’s being said about me via the Internet.

I shudder. “I will not think about that shit during this break,” I repeat as I walk slowly across the parking lot. “I will not think about Sa—”

“If you click your heels together, it might come true,” Sinjin’s teasing voice says from beside of me, and I yelp. 

Once my heart has calmed down enough for me to speak, I turn and jab him in his bony chest. “Don’t. Do. That.”

Wincing, he runs his hand across the area my fingers poked. “You’re abusive, but I’ve got to say, I’m going to miss you while we’re on this break.” By the look on his face, I don’t exactly buy that, but I give him a sweet smile nonetheless.

“You’ll get to see me tomorrow night. And besides, I’m sure you have plans tonight.”

“Two actually. Scarlet and Bella.”

My arm has started to get numb, so I rotate the guitar to my other side. “You do know that the way you just said their names makes them sound like strippers.” 

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe they are strippers?” His gaze slides past me to Lucas, who’s closing the trunk of his BMW rental. He cups his hands over his mouth. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Sinjin shouts, and Lucas shouts for him to screw himself. When he looks at me again, he looks pleased with himself. 

“Be careful, Sinjin. And be . . . safe.” I start for the rental car, but he hooks his fingers around my shoulder. He nudges me around to face him, his green eyes suddenly serious and no longer teasing. “Okay, you’re freaking me out,” I say.

“Then I guess I’ll cut through the bullshit and give it to you straight. I’m not going to play dumb like I haven’t seen some of the shit that’s been posted online about you.”

Shuffling my feet on the asphalt, I release a laugh that feels and sounds like jagged nails being scraped over a chalkboard. “Scouring the gossip sites to look for yourself?”

The corners of his lips tighten. “Cute, but no. You left your computer open in the galley last night.” When my mouth drops open, he adds, “Look, it’s a fucking invitation to look and, besides, I didn’t click on anything.”

I believe him when he says that. He’d probably looked up that awful website on his own computer. 

“Thanks for going through my shit,” I snap. Across the parking lot, Lucas honks the BMW’s horn, and I spin around halfway to hold up my finger. Sinjin responds with an entirely different finger. “Okay, so what’s your point? Aren’t you the one who told me I needed to suck it the fuck up?”

“I told you that you needed to suck the fucking jealousy up. Dealing with crazy fucks is a whole other ball game. Whenever we have a beautiful woman around, we’ll always have the crazies coming out right behind her. Case in point, Cilla’s alleged stalker several years ago.” He doesn’t expand on Cilla but instead shoves his hand deep into his pocket. When he withdraws it, he slips something long and slim that feels like a miniature flashlight into the palm of my hand. 

“Bitches are crazy. Especially bitches that think they’re in love with Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe,” he says.

Opening my hand, I look down. “You want me to pepper spray someone?” 

He smiles serenely. “Like I said, bitches are crazy. They know Lucas is in town and they go seeking him out.”

Gripping the pepper spray, I run my teeth over my bottom lip. This . . . gift from Sinjin tells me two things: That, even though it’s highly unlikely, the shit talking on the YTS message boards could always make a nasty turn into real life. And that Sinjin, in all of his sulky glares and rude comments, has been worrying over me.

When I open my mouth to speak, I choose to focus on the latter. “I’m touched.”

Narrowing his green eyes, Sin snorts. “If you get all sentimental on me, I’ll skip the hotel and take Scarlet and Bella to your compartment on the bus.” 

“Ugh.” I drop the pepper spray into the bag that’s slung around my shoulder. “You are foul.” I clear my throat and in a sincere voice add, “Have an amazing day off, Sinjin.”

His expression goes slack, and I pull back in surprise. “It’ll be the best birthday eve I’ve ever had.”

As I back up to the BMW, which Lucas has driven closer to us, I can’t help but watch Sin as he returns to the bus for his belongings. I’m quiet as we leave the parking lot, but after driving for a few minutes, Lucas’s hand slides across my thigh, stopping to rest between my legs. 

“Tell me about Sinjin,” I say.

“What about him?”

“Why he’s so . . .”

“Fucked up?” Lucas asks.

Rubbing my hand over the column of my throat, I nod. “I guess that’s the best way to put it.”

The corners of Lucas’s mouth tighten. “Because he came from a fucked up family. An abusive stepfather. A drug addict mom.” He pauses as the dashboard GPS tells him to take a left. “He didn’t have someone like your grandmother to look out for him. Even after they lost custody, shit didn’t get any better for him or his sisters.”

“Is Zoe one of his sisters?”

Lucas’s head whips around, startling me. “Why do you ask that?” When I don’t immediately answer, he shakes his head slowly. “She’s a woman he met in rehab.”

My mouth drops open into a silent “Oh.” “So, she’s still there, then?”

Lucas grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “She’s not a drug addict,” he explains in a low voice. “She’s his therapist’s 19 year old daughter. To say that Sinjin is conflicted about it is an understatement. But, I’m starting to think it’s the best goddamn conflict he’s ever faced. He’s clean.” 

But he was also unhappy.

Resting my back against the seat, I turn my head to the side, staring out at the Gateway Arch and the buildings beyond it until they all become one massive blur. I don’t speak again until Lucas pulls the rental car up to the front of our hotel, and that’s to thank the valet who holds my door open for me. Someone from concierge greets us almost as soon as we go inside, and instead of the elevators just off of the right of the lobby, we’re directed to a separate part of the hotel, to the Penthouse elevator. 

“If there’s anything that I, or the rest of the staff here at The Avery, can do to make your stay more enjoyable than the last time, please don’t hesitate to let us know,” the short, balding man acting as our escort says before Lucas and I step onto the elevator.  

As soon as the doors slide closed, I lean back against the corner, cocking an eyebrow. “More enjoyable than the last time,” I repeat. 

“Do you know how sexy you look when you make that face?” he demands, taking slow steps towards me. I wrap my fingers around the cold metal bar behind my body. “And before that beautiful head of yours starts to wonder, no. No other woman has ever been inside of this box with me.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” I whisper. He pins me against the elevator wall, and I let out a moan of pleasure as he skims his teeth over my earlobe. “I mean, I don’t care. And we shouldn’t do this here—there are cameras.”

“There you are with the lying again,” he growls. “And do you think I give a fuck about the cameras?” He kisses around the outline of my face until he finds the sensitive flesh at my throat, and I swallow hard. “You taste so good. So sweet. All I can think about is tasting more of you.” 

Without warning, he hooks his hands under my thighs and lifts me up. I let out a shriek and straddle my legs around his waist. “Of course you care about cameras,” I whisper, as he glides his tongue over the delicate bones of my shoulder blades. “You should care about them.” 

My head is spinning and if not for the loud warning noise, I wouldn’t have noticed that the elevator has stopped on the top floor of the building.

“When I take you into this room, you are completely mine,” he says. “No tour talk, no Cilla. Just me and you.”

He doesn’t mention Sam, but I think of her, and I vow not to let the little bit of contact she’s had with me ruin my time with him. I’ll be home in Nashville this weekend, and I want to savor every moment I have with him alone.

“Alright. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Red,” he tells me in a dangerous voice.

He carries me inside of the Penthouse, not setting me down until we reach the large, circular couch in the middle of the room—a brown leather sectional where the parts have been slid together to make one round surface. Scooting myself back, I look around, trying to become better acquainted with where I’ll be staying for the next 36 hours. 

There’s a neutral color scheme going on in here—rich shades of brown and tan. Directly across from the couch is a bar with a gleaming granite counter top, and to the left of me, French doors lead to what I assume is the bedroom. To my right is a Steinway piano, and memories of the night in Nashville when he bent me over the same model claws its way into my thoughts.  

“Why does this feel familiar?” I tease.

“Because it’s supposed to be.” Taking my hands in his, he pulls me up until I’m sitting on my knees and our bodies are rubbing together. “You’re going to play for me, Sienna.”

“And if I say no?” 

Pinning my arms over my head, he covers my mouth with his, kissing me hard, rough and fast until I can no longer breathe. I stumble back against the cushions once he lets my arms go, but he shakes his head. “Turn around.” 

I could argue with him. I could ask him why just to see what inventive punishment he’ll come up with this time, but I don’t. Keeping my eyes trained on his, I comply, climbing around on my knees until the front of my body is touching the backrest of the couch.

 “Do you know what I realized?” His fingertips slip beneath the soft cotton of my shirt, and I hold my breath as he urges me to raise my arms so he can draw it over my head. “I was wrong about the bus.” 

I look back at him. “What?”

“I can’t touch you like I want. Can’t drive you crazy every time you grind those damn teeth of yours.” He spins his fingers in a circular motion, and I turn back around to face the floor to ceiling windows that extend along the entire back wall of our suite. “I’m going to spend this entire fucking day inside of you, tasting you, touching you. Do you understand?”

I nod, gasping a moment later when he unhooks my bra with one well-maneuvered motion of his fingers. “If you rip another bra, I’ll have your—”

“God, you talk to much.” When he comes up behind me on the couch, I slide forward until my breasts are pushed flat against the cushions. He drapes my bra—which is still completely intact—over the back of the couch. “See, no rips.”

He pushes my hair away from the nape of my neck and runs his nose along the sensitive area between my shoulder blades. “You smell so good—so right. Did you know that?” When I make a movement with my head that’s neither acknowledgment nor denial, he chuckles against my skin. “I’m going to finish undressing you now.”

“Yes, please.”

As he removes the rest of my clothes, his touch varies. He’s gentle when he unfastens my shorts, his fingertips careful and soft as they run along the inside of my thigh, but then when he reaches my panties, he’s rough. He rips them into two uneven pieces as soon as his thumb makes contact with the wetness in the center.

By the time I’m naked, gripping the back of the couch hard, I’m trembling. He slides off of the couch, and when I try to see what he’s doing, he gives me a rough slap on my ass. 

“Turn around, Sienna.”

Sinking my teeth into my lip, I whip my head back around, staring out the window as the first drops of sunrise splash across the sky. He rummages through his luggage for a few minutes, and when I hear him zip everything closed, my body shivers in anticipation.