A woman pushed into the room, and Gwen relaxed slightly. She was young—younger than Gwen by probably ten years. She wore a black and electric blue minidress and the heavy, pale makeup favored by many of Lucas’s fans. She was distraught, and Gwen took her hand away from her gun for one simple reason: the woman was carrying a drowsy child with long, curling blond hair, maybe a year old. “Where is he?” She looked around the room. “He deserves to see his son!” Lucas showed no signs of recognition.
Craig, however, went pale. His eyes cut to Cathy, who hadn’t noticed his reaction. Gwen’s stomach dropped as she caught on. He hurried to the woman, saying something about getting things taken care of. The woman shrugged him off. “You bastard, you’ve been ignoring my calls for a year.”
“Sarah, please.” The words barely reached Gwen’s ears, spoken softly so as not to carry. It didn’t matter. Cathy had already looked at the woman, looked at the child in her arms, and reached her conclusion.
“Who’s this?” Cathy sounded friendly enough as she crossed the room.
Conversation in the room lowered as people started paying attention. Gwen exchanged a glance with Lucas and he nodded. She joined the three and murmured, “Let’s all step outside and talk.” She herded them out of the room and down to a quieter corner of the backstage area.
“Where have you been?” Sarah said. She shifted the little boy, who whined and tried to snuggle his mother’s shoulder, his thumb going to his mouth. “I’ve called, I’ve emailed. I even had a lawyer contact you, you son of a bitch.”
“Craig, who is this?” Cathy didn’t sound as friendly now.
“I’m the mother of his child, who the hell are you?”
It wasn’t hard to do the math, looking at the toddler and weighing his age against the three years Cathy said she and Craig had been together. Gwen put a steadying hand on Cathy’s arm.
“Sarah, this is Cathy.” Craig put his arm around Cathy and pointedly said, “I told you about Cathy, remember?”
“Oh yeah, your girlfriend. Girlfriend or not, Tyler’s still yours.” Sarah brushed Tyler’s hair back from his face. “Baby, wake up, your daddy’s here. Say hello to daddy.” Tyler complained, but he opened his eyes. Even Gwen could see he was a dead ringer for Craig.
Craig didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, not even the baby’s. “Gwen, can you give us a minute?”
Gwen looked to Cathy, who nodded. The tension was high, but not high enough that someone was liable to get physical. “All right. I’ll be right in the green room if you need me.”
“Who’s she?” Sarah asked as Gwen was walking away. “Your other girlfriend?” Christ, this was going to get ugly.
People were filing out of the green room, the party over even though it was barely past midnight. She found Lucas sitting at the mirror scrubbing off the last of his stage makeup. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. Kid looks just like him.” She tried not to think about what Sally had said—Lucas had warned her that this wasn’t long-term. She’d known it going in.
Lucas winced. “Did Cathy know?”
Gwen shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“That asshole. I told him, over and over again, not to screw this up.”
“I don’t think he listened.” She tugged at his hair. “Come on. Let’s go make sure they’re all right, then get you to bed.”
***
“You’re getting better.” Gwen tried to catch her breath. The exercise mat beneath her was cold, so she held out her hands for Lucas to pull her back up.
“Yeah, but you’re small. It’s easy to push you over.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss her. “What happens if this guy is a lot bigger than me?”
“It’s not about size, it’s about leverage. Come on, again.” This time when he pulled her up, she could tell he was distracted. “You’re not focusing,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry.” The dark circles under his eyes weren’t just smudged stage makeup from the night before.
“Look, it’s not even likely you’re ever going to see this guy—”
“I know. It’s not that.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “This thing with Craig and Cathy—it’s like watching your parents split up.” Cathy had moved out of her room with Craig and into Sally’s three days prior. The crew was choosing sides, despite everything Gwen had tried to defuse the situation.
“Cathy’s younger than you.”
“Not like that. I mean …” He walked over and sat down on a weight bench. “I thought they had it. I mean, really had it. They’ve been so good together.”
Gwen nudged him with her hip until he scooted over and let her sit down beside him. “You sound practically sentimental.”
“This goddamn business.” He rested his chin on his hand. “I don’t think any relationship can survive it.”
“Is that speaking from experience?” she asked.
“Me? No. Not really.” He paused, then added, “There was someone, briefly. He was, well”—Lucas laughed, sounding embarrassed—“he was the tour manager before you.”
Gwen felt a stone in the pit of her stomach. Sally hadn’t been wrong, then. “The job split you up?”
He shook his head. “The coke split us up. My fault. Last time I saw him was in London, the night I OD’d.”
Curiosity won out over her stinging feelings. “Was that why—?”
“He broke up with me before the OD,” Lucas said. “And I wasn’t drowning my sorrows, if that’s what you’re asking. I was trying to show him just how okay I was, by getting high and finding someone hotter than he was to spend the night with.”
“We need to get out of here. Our time’s almost up,” Gwen said. She didn’t want to hear anything more.
“Gwen.” He caught her arm. “I don’t do that sort of thing anymore. None of it.”
She smiled faintly. “Except sleeping with your tour managers. You still do that.”
“Not a court in the world would convict me.” He leaned over to kiss her. “Not when they look as good as you.”
The kiss made up her mind. The boundaries clarified. This wasn’t about taking care of him, or even keeping him safe. This part, the feel of his arms going around her and pulling her against the sleek lines of his body, this was just another job perk. Nothing else. She could enjoy it for what it was, or she could spend time worrying over her feelings. Aware of the glass walls fronting the hotel gym, she caught his hand as it dipped toward her arse and murmured, “I think we both need a shower, don’t you?”
***
Gwen’s muscles hummed with contentment after the shared workout and hot shower, the latter complete with a pair of groping, fumbling orgasms that left them giggling as well as gasping. Shower sex was never the elegantly sexy thing you saw in the movies, but it was fun. Lucas tried to coax her into bed for more, but tempted as she was, she had too much to do.
He wandered the suite, clearly bored and unhappy, while she sat at the desk and tried to make sense of the security plans for the upcoming shows. Lee had emailed her long checklists and procedures to follow. Gwen had password-protected her computer with a strong twinge of guilt. It was better than trying to explain to Lucas why she was getting regular emails from his brother.
“We haven’t heard anything new in ages,” he said. “Why are you so worried?”
“Because stalkers don’t stop,” she said. “They wait.”
“Have you done this before?”
“Hm?” Gwen tabbed away from the latest email and turned around.
“Bodyguarding.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Close protection,” she corrected, “and no.”
The inevitable question of how she knew what to do didn’t come. Instead he sprawled across the bed on his stomach, grinning up at her. “You are my bodyguard, though.” He dropped his voice to a purr. “God, that’s sexy.”
A tremor rippled through her, but she tried to turn back to her desk, rubbing at her forehead. “It’s really not. It’s not something I shou
ld be doing alone either. If I were doing this the right way, someone would be checking out everywhere you go before you get there, someone would be doing background checks on the people you might come in contact with … so no.” She had her suspicions that Lee was doing background checks, but he hadn’t confirmed it. “What I’m doing is … not enough. But you’re stuck with me.”
He slipped off the bed and stood behind her, sliding one hand up into her hair and resting the other on her shoulder. “I still think it’s sexy.”
Gwen gave him a wry grin over her shoulder. He was being so utterly obvious, it was hard not to be charmed. “If I were a rubbish collector, you’d think it was sexy.”
“Mm.” He leaned down to kiss her. “No. You, yes. Your job, no.”
“Speaking of my job …” She tried to turn back to the plans on her desk. He ran his fingers through the short strands of her hair and she leaned back appreciatively, still trying to focus.
He crouched beside her chair and breathed into her ear, “Surely you can take a small break. I won’t tell anyone.” She closed her eyes and gave in when he leaned close and traced the tip of his tongue on a long trail up the side of her neck, from the collar of her T-shirt all the way up to her ear.
“God—” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her lap, making the hotel chair creak alarmingly. She ignored the risk to the furniture, instead tightening her arms and raking her teeth over his collarbones. “Naked,” she said. “Now.” The effect of the command in her voice was obvious and immediate. He fumbled with his robe, trying to pull it off while sitting down, then gave up and stood. She watched him, curling her fingers tight over the arms of the chair. He pulled away his shirt and shimmied out of his pajama pants, tugging them down over his hardening cock, leaving him naked, as ordered. She wanted to push him farther, to see what his limits were, to see what he’d do for her, but she’d start slow.
She wet her lips but made no move toward him. “All right,” she said. “Now go lie down. On your back.” He reached for her to draw her along, but she shook her head. “I’ll be there in a bit.” The bed was a mess anyway, so he pushed the blankets back before crawling across the sheets to lie down. He ran his hands over the sides of his body, across the tops of his thighs, staring at her, and she knew he was trying to entice her to come closer. But she wasn’t ready to give him what he wanted, not yet.
***
He couldn’t believe he had ever seen her as anything other than utterly gorgeous. She’d ordered him. His skin felt too tight and he’d fought the urge to fall to his knees. He’d goofed around with that sort of role-play before, and it had been fun, but the thought of giving her control burned away his thoughts and left behind nothing but ash.
She sat where she was, watching him. God, he loved her like this. Utterly in control and willing to push him, to tell him what to do. He’d never craved any other human being the way he craved her. As his right hand brushed against his cock, she said, “No. Not yet,” and he shivered. There was a soft zip as she unfastened her jeans, still sitting. She opened them just enough and drew one leg up over the arm of the chair, reaching into her panties to start teasing herself.
“Gwen, please—” He tried to sound less breathless than he was.
“Mm, yes.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes and oh God, he could hear her, see the movement of her fingers as she touched herself. It had to be his imagination, but he thought he could smell how aroused she was. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He wanted her to come to bed, he wanted her to stay where she was and let him watch.
“Oh my God.” He couldn’t stop staring at the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the way she licked her lips, the way the hand between her legs moved. It took all the willpower he had not to throw himself at her, or at least throw himself on his knees in front of her. “Gwen, please.”
At that, she stood and pushed jeans and panties down in a single motion, kicking them off her feet.
“Please what?” she said. That smile shouldn’t have been legal. He clutched at the sheets and fought to keep from arching his hips. “What?” She moved toward the bed and leaned over him on her knuckles, her face inches from his. “Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you?”
“Yes.” It came out in a long sibilant. Fuck, his cock was so hard, and she’d barely even touched him yet.
“Good. Very good.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “You are incredibly pushy, you know. I think I need to do something about that.”
Oh God. He cleared his throat. “Like what?”
Gwen leaned down like she was doing push-ups on the bed and licked at his mouth. He was distracted by the sight of her biceps tensing beneath her skin. She pulled away, and came back a few seconds later.
“I should gag you, mouthy git. Thought about using my knickers. Would you hold them in your mouth if I told you to?” She dangled them from her fingers, the very same blue cotton bikini panties she’d been wearing. They were probably still warm from her skin.
It took longer than it should have for him to find his voice. “Y-Yes.”
“Open your mouth.”
He did, and she tucked the soft fabric into his mouth. It was still warm, the scent of laundry detergent filling his nose, mingled with soap and with the faintest hint of her arousal. He closed his eyes and his mouth and he shivered.
“Now,” she leaned back over him, her breath warm on his skin. “I want to find out everything you enjoy. I want to make you come in ways you never even dreamed of.”
Gwen. He wanted to tell her—anything, anything at all.
“You’re going to tell me, sometime soon. But for right now, give me your hand.” She lowered her mouth to his ear, breath hot against his skin. “You’re going to get me ready to ride you until you can’t see straight.”
His hands were shaking as he tried to follow Gwen’s directions—Be honest, call them orders. Gwen crawled over him, licking all the way from his belly to his chin before reaching his face and his neck, licking and nibbling. He reached out to tease his fingers between her labia; Gwen, crouched over him on her hands and knees, barely touched him at all, just where her mouth touched him, and where his fingers stroked her lightly.
“Inside me,” she hissed against his mouth and closed one hand into a fist in his hair. “Do it.” He shuddered and trailed one finger down, circling and teasing at the edges of her entrance. She pressed against his hand, but he pulled away. He was rewarded with a tug at his hair and a sharper nip at his jawline, the little bit of pain translating sweetly along his nerve endings. “Lucas, fuck me or I’m going back to the paperwork.” He teased one finger slowly into her, letting the heat of her body surround him. She was already so wet, the extra slickness felt so sweet. She growled against his jaw and bit his ear. “Two.”
He swallowed a whimper, tightening his mouth around the softness of her panties, imagining her taste filling his mouth, then eased a second finger into her, causing her to arch her back and press against his hand.
She smirked down at him. “I knew you would love this. Any time I got the—the slightest bit rough with you—” She broke off and moaned, “Oh God, more, please.” He added a third finger then, slowly slipping in and out of her, never quite establishing a regular rhythm. “Grabbed you—you lit up like a neon sign.” He was aching and ready for her, and watched her expressions, waiting for the words. Finally she pulled off his hand and reached across the bed for the condom. She slid down, licking along the shaft of his cock. He groaned and arched against her mouth, but she pinned him down with one hand while with the other she slowly rolled the latex down over him. “Be still,” she murmured. He fought to obey as she let him go to rise up and straddle him, wrapping her fingers around him. She batted away his hands when he tried to help line himself up, and suspended herself with the tip of his cock pressed against her.
He couldn’t help the begging, whining sound he made; he needed to feel her around him.
“Don’t m
ove,” she growled. Using her thigh muscles—Lucas didn’t think he’d ever get enough of watching those muscles work—she eased onto him, unsuccessfully stifling a small moan. She leaned over him again and pinned his wrists to the bed. His hips twitched; he wanted desperately to buck, to arch against the restraint around his wrists, to struggle against her strength keeping him still. He tugged at his arms, and she responded by tightening her hands. It almost hurt; not quite, but enough.
Her hips rolled in a sinuous movement as she kept her promise, working tight around him. Gasping, he managed to tear his gaze away from her hips to look in her eyes. Those eyes—gorgeous, gray-blue, blazing—pinned him as surely as her hands at his wrists. “Wanted this,” she breathed, “for days.” She twined her fingers with his and pushed their arms up the bed until they were face-to-face. She licked at his mouth, making his hips snap involuntarily. “Oh God.” Gwen broke away from his mouth. He did it again, thrusting up to meet her.
He was gratified to see her falling apart: her breathing fast and soft, punctuated by low groans, words gone, eyes glazing. He wanted to close his own eyes, to focus on the tense pleasure slowly sparking through his body, but he couldn’t look away. Gwen let go of his right hand to slide her own hand down. Her fingers writhed between them. “Harder” was all she could manage, and it was enough; more than enough. He pulled free of her other hand and wrapped his fingers around her hips, using the extra leverage to slam into her until Gwen cried out and started pulsating around him. The deep, undeniable pleasure of her gripping and squeezing him with each spasm made it impossible for him to hold out any longer. He arched his back and starbursts exploded behind his eyes, electricity sparking down to his toes. He gave a last thrust or two, then collapsed back against the bed, pulling her down with him.
They lay together for a few moments, long enough for him to soften and slip from her body. She pulled the makeshift gag from his mouth and rolled away to clean them both up, then came back to pull him into her arms with a tired but wicked grin. “Should I make you start calling me ‘Sergeant’?”
The Farther I Fall Page 12