by Lisa Suzanne
He moves faster and faster, his sexy grunts and growls growing louder along with my moans. His body tightens for a beat before he slows his thrusts, and then he pushes in and keeps himself there as he comes. His eyes are open and on me as his face twists in pleasure, and it’s the single most beautiful sight I think I’ve ever witnessed. He rams into me a few more times after he comes, and that’s enough to push me over the cliff again. I squeeze my body around his and close my eyes tightly when I come, my moans turning into screams of bliss that I don’t even hear over the rushing in my ears.
He stays inside me long after my body has stopped pulsing, the two of us panting and clutching each other like the other might disappear, like this was all just a dream.
But it wasn’t a dream.
I just slept with Gavin Brooks, my best friend from high school turned into a famous rock star, and despite what might’ve happened earlier, it ended up being one of the best nights of my life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I’ve already gotten dressed, forcing myself to remember I came here with Rose and she may want to go home tonight.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says softly as he zips up my dress.
“And I don’t want to leave,” I admit. “But all I have is this stupid expensive dress and considering my profession, I shouldn’t really do the walk of shame from a rock star’s hotel room not far from where I work the morning after spending the night here.”
He chuckles. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I understand.” He presses a kiss to my lips.
“Besides, I need some time to think about what just happened.”
His eyes darken, and if I’m not mistaken, I see a little fear in them. I grab his hand and squeeze it tightly in mine. “It was just unexpected, Gav. But it was perfect.”
His lips tip up. “Can I see you again tomorrow?”
I nod. “I’d like that.” I know he has his meeting in the morning, and I need to process everything that just happened. I need to figure out whether getting involved with a musician is really the right move for me. For all intents and purposes, he’s a celebrity. And I’m...a schoolteacher with ghosts from my past that are better off left in the closet where they’ve lived since I cut out everyone from Prestbury Academy. Surely that’s not something he’d want associated with his brand.
And yet...
Tonight, he didn’t seem to care about any of that.
He slides his phone out of his jeans pocket. “What’s your number?” he asks softly.
I give it to him, and he taps his phone for a few seconds. “I just sent you a text so you have mine. I’ll get in touch after our meeting tomorrow and let you know a good time.”
I nod. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He grins, and then he leans in and kisses my temple, a move so soft and sweet that I’m transported back ten years to the night Chase dumped me. Gavin cares about me. He always has, and somehow I missed it all that time ago.
But I won’t miss it this time.
“So am I,” he says.
I offer a smile, and then I open his bedroom door. I find Rose kissing Liam on the couch in the suite.
I glance over at Gavin, who rolls his eyes at me, and I giggle.
“Rose!” I yell, and she breaks away from Liam with a sheepish smile. “You ready to go?”
“Coming,” she says. She winks at Liam, gives Gavin a little wave, and finally stalks over toward me so we can head home and dissect our night with a couple of rock stars.
Rose’s driver is waiting for us at the entrance to the hotel when we emerge from the lobby doors. We step into the backseat, and Rose starts in first.
“Spill it, sister. What happened behind that closed door?”
My champagne may have worn off, but she still seems a little tipsy.
Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I’m thankful for the darkness in the back of the car.
I clear my throat just as my clutch vibrates, and I realize it’s the repeat alert of the text Gavin sent me just a few minutes ago with his number. “We had sex.”
“Oh my God! How was it?”
I close my eyes and allow my head to fall back onto the seat. “Incredible.” I sigh a little more dreamily than I intend to. “It was intense and passionate, like fourteen years of foreplay and finally getting to the main event.”
“What?” she shrieks.
I sit up and open my eyes. “What?” I ask.
“Fourteen years of foreplay?” she repeats. “What about Chase?”
“What about him, Rose?” I practically spit out. “I waited ten years to see his stupid ass again and he shows up with some bimbo. How am I supposed to take that? Just wait around a little longer with the hope that he’s still the one for me?”
Her jaw drops a bit with my outburst. “I’m just surprised you’re moving forward so easily, I guess. That’s all.”
I blow out a breath.
“I wish we each had a glass, because I want to toast to something,” she says.
I hold up an imaginary glass. “Go for it.”
“To starting over with the past.”
I fake clink her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
My phone buzzes again, and when I finally slide my phone out of my clutch, I find more than one text message waiting for me.
I read the most recent one first.
Gavin: It’s Gavin. Thank you for tonight. It was perfect, and it’s something I’ve wanted for fourteen years. See you tomorrow.
My heart melts a little. He wanted to do that with me for fourteen years? I wish he had. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so goddamn tied up in Chase for so long.
I’m at once excited and terrified for the possibilities ahead of us.
I tap out a reply.
Me: I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for tonight. I didn’t want to leave, but I was afraid of what I was feeling for you already.
“Who are you texting?” Rose asks.
“Gavin.” I glance up at her after I hit send. “He said he wanted to do that with me for fourteen years.”
“Holy shit, Dee! Are you serious?”
I nod and flash my phone at her so she can read it for herself. I feel the vibration indicating another text came through. She reads it first, her eyes widening, and then I turn the screen toward myself.
Gavin: I’ve been afraid of my feelings for you for a long time, Laney.
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I murmur.
“Oh my God,” she says softly, as if something just dawned on her. And then, a little louder, “Oh my God!”
“What?” I ask, my brows drawing down as I wait for her to spit it out.
“That song tonight! The one they played. It was at the reunion. You were getting drinks. Their new one.” She’s spitting out short sentences that aren’t making any sense to me.
“What about it?”
She looks up at the ceiling like she’s trying to remember. “It was about ten years going by and wanting someone who never really belonged to him. It’s you, Dee. He was singing about you.”
I make a face. “Don’t be ridiculous. He didn’t write a song about me.”
“The hell he didn’t.” She purses her lips and raises her brows pointedly. “And you know how it ended? He said he still wanted the girl. Shit, I wish I hadn’t been drinking gin or I’d remember it better.”
“And I missed it because I was busy pouring drinks down Chase’s date’s dress.” I roll my eyes. “Not that I would’ve thought for a second it was about me.”
She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Of course it was about you. Don’t you see? Gavin has loved you for the last ten years the same way you’ve loved Chase.”
“What?”
She pauses, brows knit together in thought as she chews a nail. “Wait a minute! That song that’s their big hit! Oh my God, that’s about you, too!”
“What song?”
“That ‘Locked Up’ one!” She pulls her phone out and presses play, and we lis
ten to the words. “The one who holds the key is the one right next to me!” she yells triumphantly, repeating words from the refrain. “Because you two were always together back in high school. I wonder if he wrote this song back then.”
“Shh!” I scold her as I try to listen to the words.
“Stolen glances across the room while you’re holding his hand. That’s you holding Chase’s hand while you’re looking across the room at Gavin. Those looks made him believe he had a shot with you.” She’s analyzing every lyric, and I’m almost starting to believe her.
When the song ends, she repeats the final line. “The one who holds the key will never set me free. Jesus Christ, Dee. Could it be any clearer to you?”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means you. You hold the key to his heart, and you’ll never set him free because you’ve always loved someone else. But maybe you don’t anymore. Maybe he’s got a real chance now. This is like a freaking soap opera and I’m living for it!”
I huff out a sigh as I turn toward the window. It’s late, and we’ve had a full night of drinking and partying and dancing and, for me at least, sex.
“What happened with you and Liam?” I finally ask in an attempt to get the heat off me.
“He played it a little cool but I’ll wear him down.”
I can’t help my giggle. Leave it to Rose to convince a guy that he’s right for her.
“I mean, we kissed and he felt me up, but that was about it. Nothing rock stars don’t do with every woman they bring back to their hospitality suite.”
And there she goes, mucking up my already jumbled thoughts with still more confusion.
Is that what Gavin was doing? Did he just invite me back to the suite to kiss me and see how far he could get with me? Is this just a game to him?
Or is there more?
The emotions that passed between us in our passion tonight tell me there’s more to it, but to hear Rose break it down so callously has me a little bit on edge. Is that what he’s like? Does he just screw any girl he wants because he simply can? Or has he played the field because there was only ever one girl who held his heart?
Those are questions only Gavin can answer, and it’ll be up to me to interpret those answers as truths or lies.
It’s only then I remember that I still need to reply to his last text, and I have yet to come up with a witty response. So I fire off a quote I have hanging in my medicine cabinet.
Me: Les Brown said, “Too many of us are not living our dreams because we are living our fears.” Let’s not live our fears.
After I send off that text, I glance at the other text waiting for me. It’s from an unknown number, but I know who it’s from before I even get to the last sentence.
Unknown Number: I got your number from Reagan. I need to see you. I have so much to say. Can you meet for breakfast tomorrow? This is Chase, by the way.
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Um, Rose? I have a text from Chase.”
She freezes for a beat, eyes wide. “What does it say?”
“He needs to see me and can we meet for breakfast tomorrow. What the fuck, Rose? What do I do?”
“What do you want to do?” she asks, her voice one of reason where it was anything but that a few seconds ago.
What do I want to do? What a great fucking question.
I want to luxuriate in Gavin a little longer before muddling it up by seeing Chase and allowing all those old feelings to return. I want to pretend I didn’t get Chase’s text because I don’t know how I’ll handle seeing him for breakfast and Gavin later in the day.
I want there to be a clear answer either way...but I don’t know if there actually is one.
“I want to hear what he has to say,” I finally mumble, my gaze returning to the streets passing us by as we make our way back to my apartment.
She nods. “Then meet him for breakfast. Simple.”
“What about Gavin?”
“It’s a breakfast meeting, Dee. You’re not committing to a lifetime with the guy.”
I nod. Of course she’s right. It’s just breakfast.
But my new fear is that it could be so much more than just breakfast.
I think back to the quote I literally just texted to Gavin. “Too many of us are not living our dreams because we are living our fears.”
I thought I knew what my dream was. It used to be crystal clear to me.
But now that I’m presented with two completely different opportunities, I’m not so sure anymore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
My little old Civic sticks out like a sore thumb in the valet lane at the Peninsula Beverly Hills the next morning. I’m slightly hungover and tired as fuck, but I texted Chase back late last night and he asked me to be at his hotel by eleven. So here I am, after getting home well after four in the morning.
He told me to meet him at the Roof Garden restaurant, and I’m really glad Rose forced me to sleep over at her place so I could borrow one of her fancier sundresses this morning. The one I chose is knee-length, white with a floral print in a variety of feminine colors, and I feel fresh and pretty in it. My hangover is partially covered by a large pair of her designer sunglasses, hiding my face made up with her fancy name brand make-up rather than the cheap shit I bought at the grocery store.
Apart from my elderly vehicle, I don’t look the part of the working-class gal I’ve become.
I make my way through a luxe, ivory-colored lobby toward the bank of elevators that will take me to the rooftop restaurant. When I step out, I immediately spot Chase in a pair of khaki slacks and a short-sleeved, white button-down shirt. He looks casual and relaxed, but the way the shirt stretches across his broad chest belies the thought that he’s just another preppy guy. He’s an athlete, proven moreover by the strong veins in his forearms that always managed to make me hot for him.
As I get closer, I smell the Gio on him, transporting me back to a simpler time when the two of us could’ve come here for a breakfast because we didn’t have a care in the world and we were young and dumb and could afford it.
He stands when he spots me, and he takes a few steps toward me. “Good morning,” he says before he hugs me—something missing from last night’s reunion—and gently kisses my cheek before pulling out the chair across the table from him.
His lips on my cheek send a ripple of nerves down my spine.
“Good morning,” I say lightly. I pick up the menu and pretend to peruse. I don’t remove my sunglasses even though we’re sitting under a shady umbrella and he isn’t wearing any. It gives me further chance to study him without him really knowing that’s what I’m doing.
He’s as handsome as ever. He hasn’t changed much in the last decade apart from the sharper lines of his jaw and cheekbones. The scruff on his jaw is more pronounced than it was back then, a little darker than it used to be. He’s also more muscular than he was back in high school, but I imagine that has a lot to do with his chosen profession.
He’s still hot—but just hotter now. More defined and toned.
I glance down at the menu when his eyes move up toward mine like he can feel me watching him. I decide on the blueberry pancakes because that sounds fantastic this morning, and I remember many shared breakfasts together made up of nothing but carbs.
I keep staring at the menu even after I’ve made my decision because I suddenly feel awkward sitting here.
“How was your night?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“Fun. Rose and I went to a bar to watch Beyond Gold play.” I leave out the fact that we ended up at their hotel.
“Nice. You and Brooks still close?” he asks a little flippantly, like he doesn’t really care if we are or aren’t...but a memory rushes back, a fight we had once upon a time about my friendship with Gavin. I remember assuring Chase over and over that he was the one who held my heart, that he had nothing to worry about, no reason to be jealous, yet he was. He was always envious of what Gavin and I shared, and only now, ten years
after the fact, does a question hang over me. If he was so jealous, why’d he send Gavin over the night he dumped me?
And another thought hits me before I respond: he’d really hate the fact that Gavin and I were together last night, but what stake does he hold anymore anyway? He was the one who wanted to move on without me.
He was the one who showed up with a date last night.
I’m not sure how to answer his question. I feel pretty close to Gavin after last night, but we didn’t keep in touch. “The only person I kept in touch with from high school was Rose, but seeing Gavin last night was like no time had passed at all.”
It’s a casual response to his casual question and not entirely truthful, I suppose. Plenty of time had to have passed for me to realize how badly I wanted him. To see how much he’d changed in our time apart. To look at his mouth as something other than the engine that produces words and songs and to want it to work me over. “You still close with anybody?”
“I kept in touch with some of the guys from the team the first couple weeks after I got to college, but then games started and I didn’t really have time anymore.” He shakes his head like he regrets not making the time—just like he could’ve made the time for me but chose not to.
I don’t know what to say to that. Before last night, I might’ve gotten defensive and spoken my thoughts aloud, but now I’m not so sure if that’s what I want. Especially with Gavin’s touch planted firmly at the forefront of my mind again.
I don’t have to come up with a response, though, because he speaks first. “For the record, last night I dropped off Savannah and came back here for an early night so I could get up to get a workout in this morning.”
“You dropped her off?” I squeak. I drop my menu and take a gulp from the glass of water sitting in front of me to try to clear my throat.
He blows out a breath. “Yeah.” He glances away from me, but those blue eyes of his always gave him away. I immediately know he’s about to make a confession, and then he turns back to me, eyes full of the same familiar authenticity that was always there when he looked at me barring one night when he ended things between us. “I couldn’t spend the night with her when I was thinking about you.”