“Thank you,” I say accepting the drink. I’m not good at small talk or flirting. Or not turning into a complete tool around men who are ridiculously hot and out of my league.
“Oh my gosh! Austin! You were so awesome!” shrieks a tall, slim blonde in a black midriff top and low-slung jeans.
Suddenly he’s flocked by a gaggle of giggling girls. I say girls, because I’m not even sure if they’re out of high school yet. Then again, even college kids look super young to me and I’m not too far from their age. Sometimes I feel like I’m forty-five.
I take a step back, but Austin grabs my hand to keep me close.
“I appreciate that so much. We’ll be at the merch table again after Intermission finishes up.”
He tugs me toward the main floor where there’s some empty space in the crowd, near the back, just as the lights go down. Intermission, the headlining band, takes the stage and immediately breaks into their first song, an insanely upbeat tune that gets me bouncing.
For as boring as most people assume I am, I’ve never been to a concert where the music didn’t completely envelop my body and brain. With music, I lose all control. The world opens up. I feel out of body—the exact opposite of the reserved professional people know me as. I never feel as free as I do when I’m listening to live music and letting the beat take over.
I forgot how much I missed it. How much I need it to feel like myself. Playing an instrument has never been my forte—but man, do I enjoy listening. I’ve been so focused—and stressed out—by my studies and my career over the last few years, I forgot about the simplest things that bring me peace.
There’s something about music that takes me out of my medical and academic mind. Or maybe it complements it? To get completely zoned in, I have a playlist of my favorite songs on when I’m in the operating room. Having familiar music playing in the background helps me keep my concentration.
Had. I had a playlist for surgery.
When Intermission launches into a cover of Last Nite by The Strokes, it zaps away the dismal thoughts, and brings me to my toes. Austin nods enthusiastically and grabs my hand, encouraging me to jump and bounce and spin and twist. He joins in and we dance and laugh together.
When the song ends and we finish clapping, Austin turns to me. “Damn, girl! You rock out.”
I run my fingers through my hair to push away the strands sticking to my sweaty forehead. “It always feels good to dance it out, right?”
“I agree.” Austin leans closer, grabs my hand and holds it at our sides. The contact makes me shiver. “You’re nothing like you seemed at first.”
“What does that mean?”
“I thought you’d be more reserved.”
Reserved—another word for boring. Sometimes I wish I could be an extroverted, charismatic person that everyone wants to be around, but then I think: nope. I don’t want to be that way because I wouldn’t feel comfortable. I can only handle being in those situations for so long before I need solitude.
“I open up when I’m comfortable around people or in a situation. Dancing at a concert never bothered me. It’s a release.”
“So that means you feel comfortable around me?”
“Absolutely.”
“I feel comfortable with you, too.”
We spend the rest of the set holding hands and dancing together. Austin’s smile and energy are infectious. I feel it from my head to my toes and swirling around in my stomach. When Intermission’s set ends, we’re elbowed and pushed by the stampede of people trying to leave the venue or get back to the merchandise tables. But we remain, our feet cemented to the floor.
“I gotta head back to the merch table,” he says with a tone of reluctance.
“Oh, yeah! I get it. It was fun to watch the show with you. Thanks for dancing with me.”
“You’ve got a beautiful vibe, Liz. Your energy is mesmerizing.” He releases my hand and slides it onto my hip. He looks me in the eye and bites his bottom lip. Pure lust exudes from his pores. It’s exhilarating and overwhelming in the best way.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn. “Not here. Not in public.”
“Can I look at you like this in private?” He raises one eyebrow on his sexy face. “Later tonight?”
That nagging voice of reason tells me that making plans to hang out later is a ridiculous idea. I’m on the schedule for at least three procedures tomorrow, and that’s not including anything else that might come up if I’m needed. I can’t show up tired and spacey from a late night out.
“I’d love that,” I say, ignoring my better judgment. Then again, my so-called better judgment has yet to steer me to anything remotely fun. Continuing the evening with Austin is worth a little bit of lethargy tomorrow.
“Awesome. I’m stoked!” he says with a huge grin. Then he motions to the merchandise table with a nod. “I really need to get over there. I’ll find you in a bit, okay?”
“Yeah. Perfect.”
As he walks away, he stops, turns around and winks at me. A zap of excitement rushes through my body like someone just shocked me with static electricity. I honestly can’t remember being excited over a guy before.
* * *
While Austin’s working, I hit the bathroom and find my sisters to say goodbye. Since we all came straight to the venue from work, we drove separately. No reason for either of them to know I’m hanging out with Austin tonight. Though, maybe I should at least tell Emily so someone knows where I am.
Emily and a few of her friends are hanging around to talk to the guys, in Drowned World, when they’re finished, too, so I have people to wait with. The conversation swirls around me about people I don’t know and places I’ve never been, but I’m barely listening because I’m watching Austin. His smile is genuine and he greets each person. A few times, I see his eyes get wide and I wonder what the person may have said, but he keeps smiling through it all. Never rolls his eyes or glances around as if bored or annoyed. He graciously accepts each and every interaction. It’s not the kind of behavior I expected from a guy in a band at all. But we all have our assumptions—and they aren’t always right.
After about an hour, the line has finally cleared. Austin catches my eye and holds up his index finger, while mouthing, “One minute.”
I nod and watch him jog toward the back and behind the stage where the guys must have their stuff. It’s another fifteen minutes by the time I feel his hand on my back and hear him say, “Ready to get out of here?” His voice is low, but commanding.
When I spin around, he’s got his arm extended toward me, palm up.
A knot of excitement ties inside my stomach. “Yes.” I slide my palm into his and follow close as he leads me toward the back of the room. There’s no one to say goodbye to since my sisters left a few minutes ago, when we thought the band had said all their goodbyes. At least Emily knows who I’m with.
All I can think about is how it would feel to have Austin’s lips on mine. Actually, all I can think about is laying naked next to him. The thought alone causes a barrage of mental insecurities to pop up. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years—and I haven’t had sex in that length of time either.
Suddenly, my mind races with the common insecurities a spontaneous hookup brings. What kind of underwear do I have on? Are my legs shaved? Thankfully, I wore a sexy black-lace bra-and-panty combo tonight and the laser hair removal I had done in my early twenties takes care of any shaving concerns.
I’m the epitome of an inexperienced dork, when a hot guy is about to take me home, and all I can think about is hair removal and underwear choices.
All I should be thinking about is Austin and what being with him represents.
Freedom. A night of no-strings-attached sex. A night that makes me forget that the career I worked so hard for is over before it even began. A night with someone who can make me forget who I thought I was and who I’ll never be.
3
Austin
Liz’s eyes widen and I see her gulp as she hovers
next to my motorcycle.
“Come on.” I pat the seat.
“I, um.” She bites her bottom lip and looks around the empty parking lot. “I don’t think I can get on that.”
“I’ll keep you safe, Liz, I promise. Just hold on to me. You can squeeze as hard as you want.”
She looks scared shitless and I worry that I might have to call us a cab. I honestly have no problem doing that since it’s drizzling, and riding in the rain isn’t fun for anyone. Plus, an intense make-out session in the backseat, on the short drive to my place, would be amazing foreplay, but I’d rather get my bike home than leave it here overnight.
“Get on back; we’ll go for a little spin right here in the parking lot so you can see how it feels.”
She takes a small step toward me. I help her secure her helmet before she swings a leg over the bike. Once she’s on, she wraps her arms around my waist tightly. I reach back and pat her outer thigh.
“I feel good between your legs, don’t I?”
Her chest presses against my back when she laughs. Then her helmet knocks against mine.
“Sorry!” she yells.
“It’s okay.” I chuckle to myself and start the engine.
I know I said I was going to go for an easy spin around the parking lot, and I will, but I don’t plan on stopping this bike until I’m in my driveway. If I told Liz, I’m pretty sure she never would have gotten on.
My house is less than ten minutes away, so she shouldn’t hate me too much when I peel away without giving her proper notice.
Being on my bike is absolute freedom. Nothing caging me in, air flowing from all sides, the connection between the road and my mind. I have to concentrate and pay attention, yet my brain is constantly turning.
Why am I so attracted to Liz?
When I first saw her tonight, I could chalk it up to pure lust—the physical connection from our eye contact. The intoxicating feel of getting lost in the heat of the moment. A pull this intense doesn’t happen to me often, so it’s definitely a possibility.
Or is it because I found out that this girl is the girl I wrote a romanticized love song about? Are the emotions I get from singing the song distorting the way I see her?
Maybe it’s because she’s a bit shy and awkward? The way she stumbled over words to say to me after the show endeared her to me forever. I love introverted, yet badass, women. Reminds me of my mom—and myself—when I’m around my family and friends—those brilliant moments where I can put down my guard, shed the musician character, and just be Austin.
Or is it because her eyes penetrate into my soul? Every time she looks at me, there’s more there—like she’s searching for someone she already knows. Does she subconsciously remember me?
I push the why’s out of my head and focus on the moment. No reason to think so much when it’s simple. Right here. Right now. With Liz.
After parking my bike in the driveway at my place, I climb off and remove my helmet, then immediately turn around to help Liz dismount. I grab her by the waist and help her off, placing her on the ground gently. She braces herself on my chest, seemingly startled at my assistance. Her surprise makes me smile. Having her thighs squeeze my hips the entire ride has me riled up, ready to drop her onto my bed, hold her wrists above her head, and fuck her senseless. Which will be quite the challenge, since the girl is smart enough to be a fucking surgeon.
As soon as she sets her helmet on the seat of my bike, I take her face in my hands, lean down, and brush her lips softly. She responds by pressing her mouth against mine with desperate hunger.
Oh, it’s on.
The rain falls harder, but I barely notice. Grabbing her ass with both hands, I pull her pelvis toward mine and grind into her. She slides her hands into my wet hair and holds on, pulling tight. The slight pain as she tugs gets me hot as hell. I can’t get enough of her taste or the feel of our tongues tangling with each other. I need more. I need to bury my face between her legs and work her clit until she’s screaming my name.
When I try to retreat, she holds my bottom lip between her teeth. She’s so fucking sexy. And dangerous. She’s the girl I shouldn’t be lusting over. And yet, I’m lost in the thought of driving my cock into her over and over. The girl with the intense eyes—the ones that can read my soul.
At first, I was worried about what she saw, but she’s here with me now, so it must’ve been positive.
When I let her go, Liz takes a slight step backward. Her foot slides on uneven pavement, and her ankle rolls. I wrap my arms around her to steady her. “Hey now!”
“Geez! I’m such a klutz.” Her face turns pink with embarrassment. “That kiss was, ummm—” She rakes her fingers through her hair and swallows hard. “Intense.”
“I know,” I agree, my lips brushing her ear. “Now let’s get inside, because I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able walk when I’m done, and I don’t feel like sleeping out here in the rain.”
“Sounds good to me.” We lock eyes. I implore hers to make sure she’s down. I’m not into forcing chicks to do anything they don’t want to do.
Her gaze doesn’t waver. Not even a blink. That’s how I know we’re gonna have so much fun tonight.
Taking Liz’s hand, I lead her across the gravel driveway to the walkway.
“Watch your step.” I point to a spot where the concrete is uneven and broken. Her lips turn up in a small smile. When I look at the house, I notice multiple faces peering out the window, which means my roommates have people over. It doesn’t bother me, but I hope Liz is okay with it. I mean, it’s not like we’re gonna stop to chat or anything. I’m taking her straight to my room. I don’t give a fuck if anyone hears us.
As soon as I open the door, every head swivels toward us. Smiles drop. Eyes widen. I don’t pay attention, but Liz’s grip tightens, so I rub her hand with my thumb as an unspoken gesture of reassurance.
“Austin!” someone calls.
“Hey!” I mumble, moving Liz so she’s ahead of me as we go up the stairs.
“Great show, man!”
“Thanks. Appreciate it,” I call over my shoulder. I don’t want to seem ungrateful; I just want to get Liz out of the firing squad because it’s bound to go from casual praise for the show to pointed questions about her.
At the top of the stairs, I place my hand on Liz’s back and direct her to my bedroom. As we slip inside, the questions from below come fast and loud, like bullets from an assault rifle.
“What’s up with the Becky?”
“What the fuck is he doing?”
“Who is she?”
“Fuck that. Who’s got the herb?”
In all honesty, I’m not bothered by the comments, because once I’ve fallen for a woman, no one can sway me. But that doesn’t mean I want to hear them. All I want to do right now is make this girl scream. Loud enough that everyone downstairs can hear it.
At least, I hope she screams. She’s definitely more fun than I originally gave her credit for, but it still seems like she’d be reserved in bed.
No worries. I’m ready for the challenge.
I slam the door behind us and rush Liz immediately, taking her face in my hands and covering her mouth with my own. Her response is the same as before, crushing her body against mine, but this time she wraps her arms around me. I love that she wants to be closer. Every time our kiss deepens, her arms tighten around me. It’s like she’s trying to be one with me and it gets me hot as hell. Because becoming one with her is all I can think about, as well. Naked. For hours.
I move my hands to her legs, running my palms against her outer thighs to lift her skirt. Her breath hitches and she grinds her pelvis against the front of my jeans. Knowing how much she enjoys it makes my dick hard. I don’t want to stop until I feel how excited she is.
I back her up until her legs hit the bed.
“I want you, Liz.”
“I want you, too,” she whispers. I wonder if it’s because she’s trying to be quiet so people downstairs don’t
hear us, or if she’s just quiet in general. Her nervous smile melted me after the show. Seeing her whole, safe, and alive sent a buzz of excitement through me. Part of me wants to confess that I know her, but I don’t want her to think it’s because I’m one of these people that needs others to know when I’ve done something for them.
I would have stopped for anyone. Rich. Poor. Black. White. American. Russian. It wouldn’t have mattered. But I can’t shake the feeling that there had to be some universal reason for her showing up at my show tonight. She didn’t know I took her to the hospital. EmVee didn’t know. There has to be something to that.
There’s a fucked-up Prince Charming part of me that wants to claim the girl I saved. I’ve never been the type to have a hero complex, but I guess that’s because I’ve never been a hero. And technically, I don’t even know that I saved her. An emergency crew could have been minutes away.
I can’t explain the strong connection I felt the first time I saw her, but I’m feeling that same connection right now. The best way to test that connection is to look in her eyes while her pussy clenches around my cock.
I crouch down, grab Liz behind her knees, and flip her back onto the bed. The pure joy in her squeal tells me that she likes it. Her dress flips up to reveal creamy thighs and a tight stomach.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” I tell her.
Instead of going straight for the prize, I place my hands on each side of her, lean down and press my lips right above her belly button. Her back arches in anticipation which also lifts her tits to the sky. A reminder that I need to get this fucking dress off her.
My cock strains against my jeans as I climb onto the bed, but I’m not ready to let it out yet. I need to know her body first. Need to see what makes her happy. See what gets her off. I want to taste her. Want to make sure she’s completely satisfied, because once my cock comes out, I’m driving it straight inside her.
I move up to lay on my side, next to her. Before I have a chance to touch her, she sets her hands on my chest, curls into me, and presses her mouth against mine. She pulls back slightly and slides her tongue across my lips. Liz taking charge is so fucking hot. I love that her first reaction is always to get closer. It’s like she wants to mold herself against me. I can’t get enough of that feeling. There’s nothing better than when a woman wants to be with you.
OPEN YOUR HEART: Material Girls 1 Page 4