He has to stop playing to accept my offering, which I regret a little. But maybe it’s okay when his fingers connect with mine again at the transfer. Our hands linger like that for a second. Long enough to know we both want them there. That we’re both enjoying the sparks firing through the seam of our touch. I pull the bottle out of his grip and toss it on the bed. Turning his hand in mine, I trace the callouses on his fingertips. No wonder he’s so good. With callouses like these, he must play a lot.
“Where did you come from?” I murmur, more to myself than him.
“The parking lot,” he quips with that crooked smile I love so much. I want to touch it. My other hand lifts and stops. I’m standing just inches in front of him as he looks up from the bed, waiting, watching. Does he want me to touch him? He hasn’t pulled away from our connected hands. In fact, his strong, toned fingers knit with mine again. He tugs just enough to force me a step closer. Our knees are almost touching now. Me, standing; him, still seated. I let my brave hand go free to find out if that smile feels as amazing as it looks. I literally sigh at the contact.
Eli
Shit. What are you doing, Eli? The inner voice of my conscience is shouting at me. Loud and obnoxious, it warns that Marina isn’t some random groupie who signed up for a quickie with a rock star. Hell, does she even know who I am? I don’t think so. It’s never come up, and at this point would be weird to just blurt out like an arrogant douche. I have no interest in embarrassing her. I also have no interest in hurting her because this weird situation has convinced her she’s attracted to me.
But when her fingers brush over my lips, the quiet warning voices blur into an equally strong need to be touched. To feel anything except fear in this moment. To relieve some of the tension coiled in my body since the second this cute girl in her underwear threatened me with a broom. My life has been a series of meaningless hookups for as long as I can remember. And now that Luke and Casey have settled down, Sweeny and I get even more action as the only single guys in the band. But this feels different. There are factors involved that have changed the rules, and suddenly this player doesn’t feel so good about playing.
I catch her wrist and lower it from my face, searching her eyes. She stares back with raw fascination I’ve seen before, but never like this. Never because I was me and not a member of Night Shifts Black. The fact that she doesn’t know who I am bothered me a second ago. Now it fires strange sparks of awareness. In a weird way, it makes this moment more real than if she did. Still…
“We’re reacting to circumstances,” I say, testing the response of her deep blue irises. If anything, they darken with hunger when she senses my compliance. “These feelings—this attraction—probably isn’t real.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” she says, licking her lips. Her gaze drops to my mouth again. I can’t stop staring at hers.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Are you a consenting adult?” she teases, taking another step closer. Her hands slide up my arms and close over my shoulders. Her knee wedges between my legs, and I hiss in a breath at the direct contact.
I can’t help but smirk at her question. Her sly expression. The whole damn thing is so hot and cute at the same time. “Yes, I’m a consenting adult,” I say with a grin. “Are you?”
She nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she delivers another lustful glance at the slow movement of her knee against my groin.
I grasp her waist and pull her in even closer. Her thumbs lock below my jaw and tilt my face up to her. I wait patiently, not wanting to scare her and still not certain this should be happening.
“We can stop whenever you want,” I say, studying her. But she doesn’t seem to be hesitating out of indecision. No, her gaze has very much decided it wants me. Her hands too. Her knee is already taking.
I grunt when she shoves me back on the bed, tucking her left knee further against my hardness. Her right leg balances on the other side of mine as I catch her weight on top of me. Her lips meld into mine, as soft and delicious as I expect. She tastes like mint and lip gloss. I shove my hands in her curls, angling her mouth for better access. With a soft moan, her own hands snake into my hair in a firm grip.
I flip us over, loving the way she gasps at the surprise maneuver. Her legs instinctively wrap around my thighs to scissor us closer. She must feel every hard inch of me, and her hips buck in a silent plea for more. She frees one hand to shove down my back beneath the waistband of my shorts. Her fingertips sink into my skin, guiding our hips in a deliberate, rhythmic dance. I press harder against her tiny shorts, wanting them off, but also wanting to take it slow. We’ve got time. Nothing but time.
“Eli,” she gasps out.
“Yeah?” I grunt, sampling the skin on her neck. She groans and tilts her head to give me better access.
“You’re a really good kisser.”
I smirk through more gentle sucks until I sense the shiver running through her. “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” she sighs out.
Welcome? Man, she’s cute.
But just when I’m convinced she’s a sweet novice, her toes hook in my shorts and shove them down. Whoa. No time wasted there.
Surprised, I pull back for a better read of her face. Her hooded eyes flash with mischief. Maybe a slight dare to counter. I push my palm along her side, tucking under her tank top until it bunches above her bra. She lifts enough to free it, and I pull it over her head and toss it on the floor.
Damn. Now that’s a view.
It’s not like she was hiding much with those scraps of fabric, but I’d been purposely blocking it out to avoid the fire that’s suddenly roaring through my veins. I’m the one groaning now, all thoughts of going slow laughable memories.
“You’re so fucking edible,” I mutter, kissing down her chest to the swell of her breast. I yank down the cup and enjoy another breathtaking image before tasting that too. She wriggles beneath me, and soon I see blue lace flying past my peripheral to join the growing pile on the floor. Pushing up on my arms, I stare at her in awe for a moment, still unable to believe that hours ago I had no idea this person existed.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
Her eyes narrow as her palms slide down my stomach. I hiss in a breath when she grabs me and begins a steady stroke. “I’m sure. Please tell me you have more than just snacks in that backpack.”
With a grin, I force myself to extract from her enticing grip and reach for my bag.
• • •
Marina
The temperature is now blazing in here. It’s him. It’s me. It’s us. And yes, probably the broken radiator too. But as I watch him search through his bag, naked and beautiful and so unexpectedly sweet, I realize how much I needed this. To do something crazy. To feel living, oxygenated blood rushing through me. I’ve been a shadow since Evan broke off our engagement six months ago. Literally disappearing into the bowels of my work to escape not just heartache, but the life that caused it. My job was all I had, and I turned to it with vigor it didn’t deserve. I melted into these walls, became a part of this old theater to the point where I stopped thinking about any kind of life outside it. I was trapped here without realizing it. And I never would have broken out.