Lennon Reborn

by Scarlett Cole

  Now it was his turn to groan as she ran her fingers along the smooth skin of his back, which was covered in gray and black tattoos. The muscles beneath her fingers tightened as she went lower, until her hand reached the taut curve of his butt. Need swirled deep inside her at her very core. Lennon barely moved, appearing paralyzed. So Georgia took it upon herself to reach for his hand and lead his fingers to where she wanted them, between her legs, coaxing the ultimate response from her.

  When his fingers touched her wetness, his eyes flared and he groaned. Well, not groaned exactly. That would be too weak a word. But growled, a sound that drove her crazy as she moved against him. It was as if he had been jolted to life. Whatever barriers had been stopping him were now lifted, and she didn’t stand a chance as his lips took hers passionately. Desperately. Her eyes fluttered shut at the onslaught as his tongue searched every part of her mouth, as he dueled with her.

  His hand stroked all over her body. Down her arms, over the crest of her breast, along her spine.

  Georgia joined him, found herself lifting to align them better, so his erection was exactly where she needed it to bring some relief. “Yes,” she sighed as Lennon put his arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against him.

  “Fuck,” Lennon groaned as he let go of her. “We need condoms,” he said, making his way to edge of the bed. “Except I don’t know where the fuck they are.” He tugged his hand through his hair as he stood and turned in a circle, looking.

  “They’re in the drawer in the bathroom,” she said.

  Lennon looked at her curiously. “How would you know where my condoms are?”

  “I unpacked for you, remember? The day you got out.”

  The seriousness left his face. “I don’t know whether it’s hot that you unpacked my condoms, or whether I should be mortified.”

  Georgia couldn’t resist looking down at the size of his cock. It was much bigger than any other she’d seen, a large vein running along the underside. “I think for both our sakes you stick with ‘hot.’”

  * * *

  Lennon hurried to the bathroom. He had no idea why he hadn’t thought about condoms sooner, but he was happy to have a moment away from Georgia. Not because he didn’t want her. Not because she had done or said anything to upset him. But because he felt as though his very soul was about to be fractured into a million tiny pieces, shattered like the window of the tour bus had been when tiny shards of glass had fallen down around him.

  When he reached the bathroom, he studied himself in the mirror. Not once in his life had he lacked confidence in bed. No woman had ever left his bed unfulfilled, and there had been enough asking for a repeat performance that he didn’t doubt his own capabilities. But as he and Georgia had fallen into each other, he’d been unable to focus, suddenly nervous and terrified and filled with self-doubt.

  And his mind, fuck . . . his mind had been turning over faster than the beat of any song he could play.

  You don’t deserve her.

  She needs someone better than you.

  She can see your dressing.

  She can see your limitations.

  You can’t please her.

  You can’t do everything you want to do to her.

  You’re useless.

  You’re nothing.

  She’s everything.

  It was her words, softly whispered, that had snapped him out of it. Make love to me, Lennon.

  And now she was in his bed, still in his favorite T-shirt, those lips of hers all swollen because of their kisses. He ran his hand across his stubble that had left her cheeks all pink with its roughness. Waiting for him, while he was being a fucking pussy in the bathroom. With a tight feeling in his stomach, he pulled the drawer open. He took out the box, opened it, and removed one from the packet. It didn’t matter how strongly he felt unworthy of her, he needed to be the man she deserved. The man who would show her what life was about—even though he didn’t know himself.

  As he entered the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was his T-shirt at the bottom of the bed. Which meant Georgia was no longer wearing it. His eyes drifted up and found her with the sheet tucked underneath her chin.

  Nerves.

  Shyness.

  It was endearing.

  It was reassuring that he wasn’t the only one feeling self-conscious.

  “Are you going to let me see what you have hidden away under there?” he asked playfully, breaking the tension in the room.

  Georgia lowered the covers away from her chin until they just skimmed her breasts. “Maybe?”

  “Tease,” he said, and tipped his chin to indicate she should pull the sheet lower.

  Gently, she tugged the sheet from left to right, as if shimmying her way out of the covers. When it popped over the top of her nipples, he groaned. They were just as perfect as he remembered them. Kneeling on the bed, he leaned forward and sucked one of them into his mouth. Georgia’s fingers slid into his hair, and he loved the shiver that ran down his spine as her short nails dragged along his scalp, even if the gesture almost pulled him off-balance.

  Before he toppled over, he moved to his knees and reached for the condom. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he was suddenly thankful for all the experience he had with putting one on with one hand.

  “Do you need help with that?” Georgia asked, sitting up, the covers dropping to her waist. He liked that she didn’t reach for them to cover herself up. She wasn’t shy about her body, not that she had any reason to be.

  “I got this,” he said, winking at her.

  She flopped back onto the bed and grinned.

  When he was covered, he slid his way back into the bed and savored the way Georgia hurried over to press up against him. The feel of her skin, completely naked against his, was like nothing else he’d experienced. She was warm and soft, and fit against him like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. This time when he pressed his mouth to hers, he kept his eyes wide open and watched the way her irises shrunk as her pupils dilated. He continued to kiss her, to dip his tongue into her mouth as her gaze lost focus, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

  “Look at me, Gia,” he said quietly as he rearranged them, tugging her until she sat across his lap.

  She opened her eyes wide. Her chest rose and fell swiftly, as did his own.

  He tapped her thigh, and she raised herself above him. Then he took hold of his dick, which pulsed with need. As she began to lower herself down onto him, he could feel how wet she was. One day he was going to taste that, was going to lie down between those legs of hers and lick her out until she screamed his name. Now, though, he held his breath as she took him in, just an inch before she withdrew, coating him before lowering down further.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered as she reached for the headboard behind him and began to move.

  Lennon could barely breathe. His eyes fixed on hers as she gasped out his name, going lower and lower until she sat flush against him, squeezing around him. “Fuck, Gia,” he growled.

  The intimacy of it. He was going to die from it. He’d never felt so . . . so surrounded, so pinned to the spot. It both terrified and intoxicated him. He wanted to stay lost in her eyes, to stay deep inside her.

  And then she began to move. The slow and steady drag of her pussy as she lifted and lowered was breathtaking. It wasn’t straight up and down. She ground against him, pivoted those firm fucking hips of hers against him when she bottomed out. It made him even harder watching as she did what felt good, chased what she needed to get off. He gripped her ass, exaggerating the movement of her hips, encouraging her to take everything she wanted.

  Gia’s mouth opened but nothing beyond a jumbled mess of sighs and groans escaped. One of her hands went up into her hair, the other across her breast, squeezing it in her palm. It was exactly what he would have done if he could. Instead, he was more than fucking happy to watch Gia, to watch the place where they were joined, his cock drenched in her juices. He pressed his thumb against her clit, and Georgia fell for
ward, placing her hands on either side of his head.

  On a groan, her eyes flickered shut again, and suddenly her opening them again became the most important thing in his world. All these years, he’d never had that simple intimacy. All those years he’d looked away. And now he couldn’t bear a moment where she didn’t look at him.

  Look at me.

  Tell me I’m worth it.

  Tell me this isn’t a mistake.

  Tell me you can feel this.

  “Oh, please, Lennon, I’m so close.” Georgia began to ride him faster.

  So, come for me, angel.

  I’m here for you.

  Show me.

  Show me I mean something to you.

  Her eyes remained closed as his own orgasm started deep in his balls. He reached for her, pulled her lips down to his. “Look at me,” he whispered. He knew it sounded desperate, but he had to see her eyes. Before the top blew off his world.

  Georgia groaned. He could feel her begin to tighten around him, and just as he was about to give up hope of seeing her, her eyes flipped open as she came. No words, just a desperate gasp as her features tightened, as her shoulders shuddered and her actions turned frenzied.

  Deep inside the first woman to touch him, their eyes locked, he came harder than he ever had before.

  Shudders continued for several moments as he let go of tensions he’d been carrying, and every thought fled his mind except what a perfect moment it was.

  Georgia slumped against his chest, and he swore he could feel her heart pounding against his skin at a pace that matched his own. As their breathing evened out, he ran his hand gently up and down her spine. His ever-active mind was quiet, his body relaxed. Even the pain felt . . . less.

  “I should move,” Georgia whispered against his skin.

  He wrapped his arms around her to hold her in place. “Don’t. Not yet. Stay with me just a little longer.”

  The places where their skin touched were drenched with sweat, but Lennon didn’t give a shit. If only the silence would stay just the way it was right now, he’d keep Gia there forever.

  She slid out of his grasp, finally, and fell onto her back next to him before turning to face him. Silence surrounded them in a most perfect moment of intimacy.

  Lennon let his fingertips drag slowly along her hip as their breathing returned.

  “You want to tell me what happened yesterday to set you back?” she asked quietly. There was no judgment in her eyes, and only a hint of worry.

  “I went to the hospital. I’d missed a couple of appointments. With my surgeon, with prosthetics.”

  “How was it?”

  How was it? They’d treated him like a normal human being. The surgeon had been happy with the progress; the taped stitches had been removed. They’d been pragmatic, supportive, not overly sympathetic . . . and he’d hated every fucking minute. He’d wanted them to make him angry. He’d wanted someone to rail at. He’d wanted to encounter someone at whom he could direct all the fury he was carrying around inside. Instead, he’d found “good.” And he couldn’t do “good.”

  You don’t deserve help.

  You don’t deserve “good.”

  You don’t deserve this. Her. Lying here with you like you are worth something.

  Walk away before you convince yourself you can be anything to anyone.

  Because you can’t, you useless fuck.

  You can’t.

  Georgia’s hand slipped into his, the contact grounding him back in the moment.

  “It was tough,” he admitted. “Tougher than I thought it was going to be.”

  “Why? What did you find hard?” Georgia asked, turning on to her side. She propped her head up on one hand but continued to hold his with the other. Her hair pooled deliciously to one side.

  The words were stuck between his head and heart again. He wanted to get angry at Georgia, at the woman who’d just taken all the noise away, to deflect from the barrage of emotions that held him hostage. So he breathed, and she didn’t push him for answers. He focused on the way the soft morning light was filtered through the gauze curtains, the way the sheet was wrapped around his calf, and the way Georgia’s breathing matched his own—all the things he’d been taught but had never practiced over the years to bring himself back from the edge he’d much rather fall over.

  “Because it felt too much like accepting what happened,” he said quietly. “And I’m not ready to do that yet.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Can you believe Valerie Oppenheim is wearing that same ghastly blue velvet she wore at the party they hosted for the mayor’s swearing in?” Georgia’s mother asked as she straightened the tiny narrow belt of her custom Chanel floor-length gown. “And call me old-fashioned, but I did prefer it when this event was at the Waldorf.”

  While Georgia agreed there was a certain je ne sais quoi missing in the glass and chrome of the ultramodern hotel compared to the shabby elegance of the balconied Waldorf ballroom before it was renovated, Georgia didn’t answer. Not least because her mother didn’t really expect an answer, but because sometimes the opulence of the world she’d grown up in left her feeling embarrassed. The wealthy circles her family moved in epitomized the definition of “First World problems.” She’d listened to two gentlemen in the coat-check line pull apart a recent trip made on a private jet, and heard a woman in the washroom tell a friend that her recent Mark Rothko abstract had been a steal at fifty million.

  And also because continuing the conversation might prompt her mother to ask about Georgia’s own dress. She would hate to lie and say it was new when she’d in fact worn it to the Stephanopoulos wedding last year, which her parents had been unable to attend because it conflicted with their month-long stay in Monaco. But mainly she remained quiet because her mind was on Lennon.

  Yesterday, Lennon had eventually closed up on her, turning back to the playful man with a darkness behind his eyes with whom she was more familiar instead of the more thoughtful man she was also coming to know. “Mercurial” wasn’t a word she’d ever had much use for, but it suited him. His mood changed with the weather, and getting him to talk again once he’d clammed up was as successful as trying to stop the retreating tide.

  Her father was up front, bidding loudly on bottle of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti 1990, having already successfully bid on a Cheval Blanc 1947. Her mother clapped politely when he won, even though she knew that if he ever opened it, it wouldn’t be for the two of them. It would be for his cigar-smoking, snobby wine-tasting monthly circle. Older men with a penchant for kiln-dried Spanish cedar humidors who took their gatherings as an excuse to escape their wives every four weeks.

  It’s for charity, Georgia tried to remind herself, though for which charity she’d drawn a complete blank. Her mother was involved in so many, it was hard to keep track from one month to the next.

  Georgia’s purse vibrated. “I’m sorry, Mother. I just need to check my phone,” she said, grabbing her wrap from the back of her chair. As she stepped away from the table her mother had sponsored for the evening, she pulled her phone from her purse. She wasn’t on call, having booked the evening out months ago when the invitation had landed in her mailbox, but she was worried that Lennon needed her.

  Instead she found an e-mail from an address she didn’t recognize.

  Dear Dr. Starr,

  It’s Dred, Lennon’s friend. Can you give me a call, please? The number’s below. We’re worried about Lennon and don’t know where he is. We’re hoping you might have seen him. The hospital won’t tell us where he is because of patient confidentiality. Is there any way you can help us? I’ve included my number below.

  Dred

  P.S. Hope you don’t mind, but I scoured the internet for your e-mail address.

  How did they not know where he was? She’d assumed that since his friends weren’t in New York, he was somehow keeping them updated. But if he wasn’t . . . was it morally okay for her to tell Dred there was obviously a reason Lennon hadn’t told th
em, but she couldn’t understand why.

  She stepped outside the hotel into the cool late April air. Thankfully it wasn’t freezing, but she tugged her wrap around her shoulders. Deciding to just play it by ear, she dialed the number.

  “Hello.”

  “Dred?” she asked. “It’s Dr. Starr, Georgia.”

  “Thank fuck,” he let out in a whoosh. “Thanks for calling, Georgia. Do you know where Lennon is? Is he okay?”

  Panic and relief comingled in Dred’s voice. “I’m confused. Isn’t he communicating with you guys?”

  “Sporadically he’ll answer a text with something glib. Or ask how the others are doing with their injuries. And he picked up the phone a couple of times, once for Jordan and another time for Elliott, but he’s dodging telling us where he is, and we want to see him. He’s . . . well . . . he’s . . . crap. He’s had a really shit life, Georgia, and we’re worried.”

  It made sense that they’d be worried. “I’ve seen Lennon every other day at least since he was released from hospital.”

  “Really? Is he okay? How is he . . . how is he coping? Sorry . . . hang on . . .” From the muffled sound, he’d put his hand over the receiver. She could hear him reassuring whoever was with him that she’d seen him and to let him ask the questions. “Sorry. Elliott and Nik are here, and they’re worried, too. So, how is he?”

  Georgia chose her words carefully. “Dred, I don’t know why Lennon doesn’t want you guys to know where he is or how he is, but I don’t think it’s my place to get in the middle of this without talking to Lennon first. But to reassure you, I’ll say this: He’s coping. He’s seen his surgeon. He’s seen his prosthetics specialist. He’s in an apartment close to mine, and I see him most days.” For some reason, it didn’t feel right to share their fledgling relationship with the band. That would be for Lennon to share when he was ready.

  “I get it. I even respect that you’re protecting his privacy like that, but we’re desperate, Georgia. And you don’t know Lennon like we do. He’s . . . damn, he’ll fool you that he’s okay.”