Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Trevor takes one hand and sweeps it over my cheek. I look down to the floor and feel one tear fall to the ground. Dammit, that officially counts as crying.

  “Hey.” He lets his hand rest against my neck. “I need you to look at me.”

  “No.”

  “Kate. Look at me.”

  I take a deep breath and exhale loudly. When I bring my face up, the hard, dead eyes are gone, replaced by the soft hazel eyes I like to have looking at me and wanting me.

  “I can only give chase for so long, Kate. You’re going to have to meet me halfway. We both have some serious bullshit in our pasts—fuck, I have plenty in the present. But I won’t get jerked around: either you want to be with me or you don’t. Your choice.”

  His hand against my neck, his thumb strumming against my cheek, and those eyes locked on my face, it’s all I can take. I give up.

  “I want you. I want you to touch me. No one else. I want you to take me back to my hotel and strip this dress off me. Unless you have a shitty condo in the Valley you’d prefer to go back to.”

  Who knows what he thought I was going to say, but in the few seconds it takes for him to comprehend what I have said, a look of hungry desire replaces everything else. Licking his lips, he lets his thumb skim my cheek and then over my mouth. The sensation causes my lips to drop open and I take his thumb just into my mouth, suckling and letting my tongue drag over it.

  Trevor leans down so that his mouth is at my ear.

  “You sure you want to wait that long? I could easily fuck you right here in that dress. I bet you’re completely bare under there.” Embarrassingly, he’s right. But even if I were dressed in a snowsuit at this moment, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because those words alone are enough to make me feel completely naked. His hands slide down the length of my body and then tease the hem of my dress, his fingers sliding just under the edge. “After all, you’re a good girl who likes doing very, very bad things when you’re with me.”

  I grab him around the neck and pull his mouth to mine. We start to kiss so hard, so fiercely, I worry we won’t be able to stop. Trevor shoves his body into mine, thrusting us toward the wall so I’m unable to do anything but feel him against me. I snake my ankle around his calf. I want him to touch me between my legs so badly that I consider commanding him to.

  He pulls back, grabs my hand, and drags me out of the hallway. I follow him like I’ve had six vodka and tonics instead of the one; he’s walking so fast that it forces me to do a kind of silly girl jog so I don’t fall down. As we dart past the VIP table, all I can do is lock eyes with Kellan and wave good-bye with my free hand. Kellan stands up and, like an NFL referee, throws his arms straight up. Fortunately, he doesn’t actually shout the word “touchdown.”

  At the back of the club, behind the bar and the DJ booth, Trevor leads us down another hallway to a door at the end where a subdued bouncer perches on a barstool, looking serious and menacing. He sees us and they nod at each other, communicating something. The bouncer grabs a walkie-talkie out of his pocket, mutters something into it, and gives Trevor another nod.

  “Couple of minutes.”

  Trevor stops, leaving me standing against the wall, feeling slightly dizzy. He drops my hand and moves to lean against the opposite wall. Noting the look of confusion on my face, he offers an explanation.

  “Valet. They’re bringing my car around.”

  I cock my head to the side. “There’s valet out front. Why are we back here?”

  “No paparazzi back here.”

  “Well, well, aren’t you a big deal,” I purr sarcastically.

  He smiles. “You have no idea, sweet thing.”

  With his hands shoved in his pockets, he stays up against the other wall, but I want him over here, or me over there, with some part of him touching me. When I start in his direction, he steps a few feet over, pulling one hand out of his pocket, and points at me.

  “Nope. You stay over there.”

  Throwing out a naughty smile, I step back and slide up to the wall. I refuse to stop staring at him, no matter how hard he keeps trying to look anywhere else. Just to make it worse, I run my hands down my body and make like I’m adjusting my dress. Instead of pulling the hem down, as a respectable woman might, I tug it up just a teeny bit. When I straighten up, his mouth is agape, and he is eyeing me in fascination. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath in.

  The bouncer clears his throat. I had forgotten him. He probably thinks I’m the biggest star-fucker that ever lived or maybe that I just fell off the bus from Duluth and my beguiling innocence helped me bag a rock star on night one.

  Trevor and I both turn to look at him, yanked out of our private little erotic bubble. The back door swings open and the cool night air floats in as a valet kid props the door ajar with his shoulder, holding up Trevor’s car keys in his hand. Instantly, Trevor lurches up from the wall and moves us out into the night. Once I’m in the car, I cross my legs and let my dress ride up even more. When the driver’s door opens and Trevor gets in, he notices immediately.

  “Goddam, Kate, do you want to fuck right here? Because if you don’t let up on that shit, that’s what’s gonna happen.”

  The question sounds borderline serious. I think he’s actually waiting for a response, so I sit up straighter in the seat and put my hands piously in my lap.

  “I’ll behave.”

  “Not likely.” Trevor is pulling out of the back alley, looking both ways before turning left onto a relatively empty street. Then the car turns unreasonably quiet inside.

  Trevor has one hand on the wheel and the other arm propped on the door trim panel. Rubbing his chin pensively, I can see his jaw muscles clenching. Suddenly, it’s awkward and I don’t know what’s going on. He’s completely silent, no innuendo, and no luscious talk about what he’s going to do to me.

  Oh God, maybe he’s changed his mind in the last few minutes. Recognizing that I have an entire lifetime of emotional baggage festering inside my heart, he is trying to figure out how to let me down easy and shove me out of his car without having to slow down to below ten mph. This is when I should probably cry again, but instead my heart starts to beat crazy fast, fluttering in my chest so badly I think this might be a full-blown anxiety attack. I look out the window and try to distract my mind so I don’t pass out. Outside the window, the hotel is just visible down the street and I steel myself for the epic brush-off headed my way by biting the inside of my cheek. My heart continues to clobber away in my chest cavity as I count the seconds to implosion. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand, four-one-thousand . . .

  Trevor pulls up in front of the hotel and a bellman is at my door immediately, holding it open and giving me one of those placid hospitality smiles.

  “Good evening, ma’am.”

  I step out, standing uneasily on the sidewalk. God, I hope he doesn’t do it right here. I pray he will at least have the decency to walk us down the sidewalk a bit, out of earshot of the staff. Trevor is talking to the bellman on the other side of the car. I can see him asking the guy something, the bellman nodding and then taking something from Trevor. Probably tipping the good lad to have someone check on me in the morning since he’s about to drop-kick my ass across the gleaming foyer.

  When he emerges from around the vehicle, Trevor gives me a small, stiff smile. Great. Not exactly the kind of smile that says “Get ready to have the best orgasm of your life” or anything remotely resembling that.

  When we walk into the lobby, he stops me and places his hand on my back against my bare skin.

  “I’ll meet you at the elevators. Just give me a second.”

  I nod. Well, at least he’s going to leave me at the elevators instead of wailing on the sidewalk. I watch him walk into the hotel gift shop and peer around. What’s he doing? Is he buying me an overpriced souvenir Hollywood shot glass to use when I get blitzed after he leaves? A nice parting gift for me to remember him by? No need, minibar bottles are perfect for knocking back stra
ight up. He should save his ten bucks. I am perfectly capable of making this all go away on my own.

  The elevators seem a mile away as I stride off toward them, walking past a half-comatose guy working the front desk who barely finds the strength to muster a lukewarm smile before returning to his phone where he’s probably looking at porn or something infinitely more interesting than me. The sound of my heels on this marble floor in the middle of an empty hotel lobby feels like I’m walking the plank, with Trevor behind me holding a pirate’s sword in the air.

  Reaching the elevators, I consider not turning around because I’m convinced I’ll just see his cute little ass swaggering out the lobby doors. Instead, I stare at the cheap painting on the wall between the elevators. An abstract, with heavy brushstrokes of blood red that cover a gray background. In one corner, a tiny dot of yellow peeks through the gray, as if the artist had started with something entirely different in mind. If I could crawl into that pinprick of yellow paint right now and disappear, I would.

  Distracted from my sudden art appreciation initiative, I hear voices and turn to see a pair of young guys, maybe college-age, standing behind me waiting for the elevator. One of them pushes the button to call the elevator and locks his bloodshot eyes with mine when I turn around. Dressed in dark designer jeans, loafers, and an untucked light blue dress shirt, he is the epitome of a frat boy. Probably the president of his chapter, Phi Beta Captain Crunch or whatever. The elevator arrives, doors opening, and Mr. Sigma Kappa Blah Blah holds them ajar for me, leering with all his very white teeth.

  “You waiting for the elevator, gorgeous?”

  Before I can answer, maybe stammer about taking the stairs for exercise, Trevor sidles up next to me.

  “She’s waiting for me.”

  The poor kid barely has a chance to comprehend that the guy standing in front of him, giving him a hard look and gritting his teeth, is Trax. Trevor moves me into the elevator, while frat brothers one and two grin at each other and step in after us.

  The one who was leering at me turns to face us. “Floor?”

  “Ten.”

  When he turns from my voice and presses the buttons, I can see their reflection in the shiny silver surface of the elevator doors. While it isn’t as clear as a mirror, I can make out them watching us in the reflection, smirking like morons. Trevor steps closer to me, and the move feels protective. At first. Then his arm moves around my bare back, sliding into the side of my dress, where he grazes the edge of my breast and then sweeps his fingers down to my hip. Up and down, he traces the path repeatedly, his fingers slipping incrementally deeper with each pass.

  Maybe he isn’t going to leave me hanging. Maybe he bought a souvenir shot glass so we can pour shots on each other and then lick them off. The kind of fabulous idea these frat guys would have come up with. I can hear my heart beating in my ears and my belly is clenching in a painfully wonderful way. The tenth floor may not arrive before I completely lose it.

  The loud ding of the elevator breaks my concentration on Trevor’s hand teasing me. When the doors open, the two idiots step aside to let us out into the hall. The doors start to close, but not before we hear them start to laugh.

  “Holy shit, dude! Can you believe that? Trax in an elevator—”

  “With us, fuck yeah!”

  I can hear them actually high-five. Even though I can’t imagine what they think they did to justify congratulating each other. All they did is stumble home from the bar at the right moment. We hear them again, just before the doors close and the elevator starts to move away.

  “Dude, can you imagine being that bastard? Getting to take that hot little piece of tail into your hotel room and make her scream all night?”

  Roaring laughter fills the air and they high-five. Again. I can’t decide whether to laugh or try to stuff myself into a housekeeping cart and pray for morning to come. Refusing to look at Trevor, I stop in front of my hotel room door and fish into my bag for the key. Behind me, his fingers skim all over my bare back and the motions feel like he’s tracing a design on my skin, making it hard to think about anything else. Where is that souvenir shot glass when you need it?

  I shove the key card into the door and in return, the card reader clicks and produces a red light on the display. Again, I shove it into the slot. Click. Red light. I officially hate this door. I hate it, hate it, hate it. If this door were a person, I would kick them in the shins and stomp on their toes. Open sesame! Abracadabra! Voilà!

  Shove. Click. Red light. Shove. Click. Red light.

  Trevor reaches around and takes the card from my trembling hand. “Here.” He inspects it, and then slides it fluidly into the slot. Click. Green light.

  “I’ve spent a lot of time in hotels.” Pressing the card back into my palm, he reaches for the door handle. “Sometimes you have to hold your mouth just right.”

  Lord, help me.

  I walk into the room and flip the light on in the entryway, pausing to put the key back in my bag. “Look, if you’ve changed your mind, that’s—”

  The length of his body presses against my back and his hands begin pulling up the bottom of my dress. I drop my purse to the floor and hold my breath.

  “Shut up, Kate. Just stop thinking for one night, OK? I don’t want to hear anything else come out of your pretty mouth tonight unless you’re moaning, screaming, or telling me about the filthy things you want me to do to you. Got it?”

  It’s a complete miracle that I can even respond and form any words. “Yes. Got it.”

  “Because even though I wanted to beat their asses for being anywhere near you, those pricks in the elevator were right. I’m one lucky bastard to have you all to myself, all night, in this hotel room.”

  Hitching my dress up to my waist, his hand starts to slide over my lower belly. I push back into him and let out a deep moan, one I’ve been holding back for weeks since I met him. He rewards me by slipping his fingers between my legs and massaging the wet, bare skin he finds.

  In a voice so low that it barely registers in my brain, Trevor brushes his lips against my shoulder and murmurs, “I do like this dress.”

  “You didn’t sound like you cared much for it earlier,” I mutter while spreading my legs a bit more so his middle finger can nestle against my clit.

  “I like it if it’s for me. No one else.”

  While he’s stroking me and teasing me, I let my head roll back to his shoulder and feel an intensity building that I haven’t experienced in so long. The feeling of someone meeting your every need, every desire, every desperate craving, and simply letting them get you there.

  “Were you wearing it for me, Kate?”

  “God, yes.” I realize that I was. Secretly wanting him to see me in this dress and take it off me.

  His other hand moves around to slip in and cup my breast. My nipples turned hard when he touched me in the elevator, so when he pulls on one now, tugging gently, it feels like I might come apart. I can’t move from the spot where I’m standing because the tandem courses his hands are on have paralyzed me.

  “Good. That’s what I thought.”

  My hips start to move and grind against his hand, building the friction my body demands. When he slides one finger inside me, another deep moan surfaces.

  “Oh, shit, Trevor. Don’t stop. Please.”

  “Do you want to come like this?” His voice is tight and full of need, a lightning rod to what is happening to my body. I can’t decide; it seems so pushy or pitiful to say yes, but I’m feeling so greedy that I don’t really care. When he pauses to slip a second finger inside, I can only stutter out an indecisive mumbling as he works his palm while moving his fingers in perfect time. “It’s OK, baby. I promise it won’t be the only one. Go ahead. Come for me.”

  He starts to rub harder against my clit, with all the pressure I need, while still palming my breast just so. His permission and direction are all it takes. It all comes on so fast, so powerfully, because this need has been hovering inside me for too
damn long, just waiting for him to claim it. Trevor slows the cadence and pressure of his hands, before finally pulling away and moving to stand in front of me. His mouth is at my ear, nipping the side of my neck before speaking to me.

  “See what happens if you just stop thinking for five seconds?”

  The first thing that comes to my mind is thank you. Thank you universe, thank you clitoris, thank you hotel room, thank you Trevor. Fortunately, I don’t actually say any of this aloud, because how pathetic would that sound?

  When he begins to kiss me again, there is desperation behind every hasty move. Our mouths blunder together frantically, his hands jerk my hips forward into his, my unsteady legs threatening to give out until I have the good sense to lock my knees, my hands quaking slightly as I shove my fingers just under the waist of his pants and start to tug his shirt free. There isn’t a single lingering question in my mind, no gray area to debate whether we are doing this or not. My dress is shoved up to my waist, his shirt is coming off, and the way he pushes against my thigh, hard and insistent, we are so doing this. Which means he needs to be less clothed and more naked, as quickly as possible.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes. Why are you always wearing so many stupid, stupid clothes, Trevor?” I moan and push him back toward the wall.

  Tossing his shirt into the middle of the room, I focus my eyes to trace a path for my mouth over every part of him, his arms, his collarbone, the tops of his shoulders, his pecs, and down over every ridge of his torso. I crouch down, trailing my tongue from his navel to his belt, leaving a moist path on his skin.

  When I look up, Trevor is gazing down on me and I lose track of everything for a second. He brings his hands up to my head and runs his fingers through my hair, deftly pulling out the rocker ponytail David worked so hard on a few hours ago. Taking his belt in my fingers, I unbuckle it to work the button and zipper on his trousers. Sliding my hand over his cock, I can feel him twitch and throb under the pressure of my fingers, until I relent, pulling everything down so that I can see, touch, and taste him.