The Farther I Fall (7 page)

“Liam,” he said, probably lying through his teeth, but that was fine. A glance over Liam's shoulder confirmed that Gwen had spotted them, so he turned his attention to Liam. He leaned in and spoke in his ear. “Nice name. I'm guessing I don't have to tell you who I am.”

Liam shook his head and grinned. Any other time, Lucas would already be looking for an excuse to drag him off the dance floor to find someplace a little more private. Guys like Liam had always been his weakness. He was pretty, probably a little bit high, and one hundred percent trouble. Lucas could smell it on him, along with the scents of clean sweat and faint cologne.

If he got Liam alone, they'd have frantic, enjoyable sex in a corner somewhere, he'd probably offer Lucas some of whatever he'd been taking, and the whole thing would end up in a hotel room (maybe his, maybe not) with him snorting coke off Liam's chest.

Liam grabbed a handful of Lucas's ass, and Lucas rested his chin on his shoulder. Sure he was turned on, but distracted too. Gwen and Lee had their arms around each other, and as he watched, she pulled him down and kissed him.

Damn it.
She looked over, and when she realized he was watching, quickly turned away. Fine. He was Lucas Wheeler, for god's sake—he never had to go home alone if he didn't want to. And right now, he didn't want to. He slid one hand around the back of Liam's neck and tilted his head so he could kiss that full, inviting mouth.

It didn't have to end the way it always did before. It wasn't like he could go through the rest of his life and never have sex again for fear of using drugs. He had to learn to disassociate the two, and he could start right here.

The return kiss was eager but not too eager, and Lucas felt a tingle of desire starting in his belly. They parted, but before Lucas could say anything, Maggie popped around his shoulder and said brightly, “Lucas, you weren't going to share? You greedy thing.” She batted her eyelashes at Liam, who lit up like a goddamn pinball machine, looking between Lucas and Maggie.

Maggie had other ideas, and she pushed Lucas away as the songs changed. “Go find another partner.” Her eyes flicked over to Gwen. “I'm stealing this one for now.”

Lucas caught her by the arm and leaned down to whisper, “Subtle, Creighton. Real subtle.”

“You are not going home with a club kid groupie. When has that ever ended well for you?” She shooed him away and turned to smile at Liam.

The new song was slow and dark, bass and drums punctuated by the singer's growls and gasps. Lucas made his way over to Gwen and Lee. “Mind if I cut in?”

Gwen glanced at Lee, who shrugged. “Okay,” she said. Two bright spots of color glowed in her cheeks; she was a little drunk. He hadn't seen her like this before, relaxed and warm and loose-limbed. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” he said, and she stepped into his arms. He wrapped an arm around her back and held her tight against him. “Having a good time?”

“I am. Your brother is very charming.”

Lucas tried to keep from wrinkling his nose. “Yes. He does ‘charming' very well.”

She grinned up at him. “You looked like you were having fun.”

He gave her his best Cheshire cat smile. “I always have fun.” Feeling her body against his was distracting, with its hard, honed muscle beneath feminine curves. He had his hand in the small of her back and fought the sudden urge to cup her ass and bring her in tight against him. He still had on the leather pants he'd worn onstage, which left little room for him to get an erection. His body hadn't gotten that message.

She knew it too, from the way her smile changed to a wicked smirk. “Is that for me, or are you thinking about your friend over there dancing with Maggie?” She started dancing not so much with him as on him, turning her back and shimmying down the length of his body like he was a pole onstage. It took an enormous effort of will not to pull her up and carry her off the dance floor. When she stood up, he pulled her tight against him, daring her to pull away.

She closed her eyes and leaned back, giving him a luscious view of the line of her neck and torso as she rubbed her ass tight against his body. When she lifted her arm and curled her hand back around his neck, he bent over her in a repeat of the first time they'd danced, his mouth hovering over her throat.

He could feel her breathing, smell her skin: sweet soap with a perfume underneath he couldn't quite place. He wanted to eat her up, right there. He wanted
her
. The desire he thought he'd felt for the club kid was burned clear away. At first it had been pure physical attraction, the same spark that still drove him mad every time she touched him, by accident or otherwise. Getting to know her had only made it worse. Maggie was right. He had it bad.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and they spent the remainder of the song not so much dancing as embracing. When it ended, she turned around. Her eyes were dark and the tip of her tongue darted against her bottom lip. He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Why are you fighting this? We could be so good together.”

“I'm not sure about that.”

“I am,” he said. He leaned down again to murmur in her ear and, if he was honest, to get closer. “I want you so bad I can't think straight. Do you really not feel the same?” He felt her shiver against him and knew she did.

She looked up at him, uncertainty and desire evident on her face. “I really can't,” she said. “I—I should go.”

He caught her by the arm. “You can't keep running from this forever.”

She twisted loose and pushed away from him, her cheeks flaming red. He tried to follow, but her smaller size gave her an advantage at running through the crowds. She disappeared into the darkness of the club.

Gwen made it into the ladies' and found an empty stall. She closed the door and leaned against the cold metal until her breathing stilled. The pounding in her head had nothing to do with the music outside, nor with the beer she'd drunk—no, any trace of tipsiness had vanished, leaving her exhausted.

What the hell had she been doing? That first night, she'd panicked. The noise, the heat, it hadn't been entirely about Lucas. Tonight, though—it wasn't fear that made her run, but the lack of it. Dancing with Lucas was one thing, but she'd been ready to crawl into his pants. Had Lee seen her?

Lee was charming, and every bit as gorgeous as his brother, but dancing with him had been fun, nothing more. A little flirty. Watching Lucas dancing with another man had given her a sick twist in her stomach she hadn't felt since she was a teenager, watching her crush flirt with her best friend. She'd kissed Lee because she'd wanted to, but she'd wanted to because Lucas was watching her. It was a stupid stunt, and she owed Lee an apology.

Lucas was abrasive and often rude and she hadn't actually kissed him while they were dancing because she wouldn't have stopped there.
I want you so bad I can't think straight.
That voice in her ear, dark and smoky and low, tied her stomach in knots and sent a rush of heat between her legs. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted someone with such frantic immediacy. It hadn't just been jealousy she'd felt when Lucas kissed that guy. She'd rather be standing in a desert with men shooting at her. It was just as terrifying, but at least she understood it. At least it was familiar.

Frightened or no, she couldn't keep hiding all night. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then walked out of the stall, washed her hands, and headed into the club.

She found Lee sitting at the table and talking to the others. He smiled at her, and she felt a pang of guilt. “I think I need to head back,” she said. To Craig, “Make sure everybody gets home in one piece, yeah?”

Lee touched her arm. “You okay?”

She smiled, but wasn't sure how convincing it was. “I'm fine. I'm just knackered. Long day. I'm sorry.”

“Let me walk you back.” He slid off his stool.

“No, no, it's fine. Really. Stay. I'll see you tomorrow night.” The last thing she wanted to deal with was another advance from one of the Wheeler brothers. She kissed his cheek and slipped away. She caught a glimpse of Lucas still on the dance floor, wrapped up in Maggie and the new guy—if anything, more so than before. He had, it seemed, moved on.

Cathy stopped her before she got all the way to the door. “You sure you're okay? I saw—”

“Oh God. Lee didn't, did he?” Gwen wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Maggie was keeping him pretty busy, looked like.” She leaned closer. “Listen, Lucas is just trying to make you jealous. Maggie's not going to let him take that guy home. It'd be a disaster.”

“It doesn't matter. Nothing's going on.”

A raised eyebrow told Gwen what Cathy thought of that.

“I'm fine,” Gwen said.

Back at the hotel room, Gwen put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, grateful tonight's suite had two bedrooms. She needed a shower and a few hours of sleep. Then she should be able to think clearly again. And God, she needed to think.

The hot water did wonders, and she stepped out of the shower feeling more human, but sleepier than before. She shut the door to her bedroom behind her and crawled into bed, not bothering to find any clothes.

As soon as she closed her eyes, she couldn't stop thinking about him. She started tingling everywhere, thinking about his breath against her throat, the tickle of his hair against her skin when he leaned over her. Gwen rolled onto her back with a grumble, but her hands had other ideas. Her mind replayed scene after scene: Lucas kissing her in the green room, unbuttoning her shirt as he kissed her throat—that still hurt, the look in his eyes at her disfigurement—and then on the dance floor, first watching him kiss a very pretty man, then imagining him kissing her with the same fervor.

If she'd said yes, she and Lucas would be on the other side of that door right now, in his bed, or maybe right here, in hers. Would there be a third? But no, that wasn't what she wanted right now. She wanted
him
, and just him. He would be talkative. Using that voice to an unfair advantage.

“I can't wait to taste you,”
she heard in her mind, as she dragged the fingers of her right hand up her thigh, shifting her knees up and apart.
“God, you're so wet for me,”
as he slipped his fingers into her panties. She tried to go slow, but couldn't. Gwen spread her legs and teased one of her fingers between her lips. She
was
wet, because of him. She focused on stroking circles around her clit, imagining his tongue, imagining long dark strands of hair dragging over her thighs.

This was going to be over fast. Gwen's pulse pounded in her temples as she rolled over onto her belly and shoved her other hand down between her legs. With Lucas's voice still murmuring and groaning in her ears, she started riding her fingers, slowly at first, pushing the first two in while she stroked her clit with her other hand.

She imagined straddling him, pinning his hands to the bed while she fucked him, stripping away his cocky bluster to reveal the wide-eyed man who got so aroused by her pushing him off her lap and twisting his arm. She wondered if he knew, if he'd tapped that potential to give over control. God, the very thought—she wanted to give him orders, to overpower him, to see him fall apart underneath her. Gwen's hands were drenched as she pushed three fingers in, still not enough, still not Lucas, overwhelmed and compliant beneath her.

When she came, she buried her face in her pillow to muffle the cries. Gwen thrust and writhed against her hands, curling the fingers inside her to send the pleasure spinning out of control throughout her body. Finally she went limp and drew her hands back up, wiping them on the sheets. She was too tired for more and the hot water of the shower and the sheer relief of physical release combined into a potent sleeping potion, one that had her asleep before she could even turn onto her side.

When her alarm went off the next morning, she opened her eyes and groaned. She crawled out of bed and pulled on her robe. The thought of facing Lucas after last night made her quiver inside. She wanted him; she'd demonstrated that to a room full of people. Even if the entire affair turned awkward and weird, it might still be worth it. She opened her door and stepped into the living area.

The door to the other bedroom was open. Lucas wasn't there. His bed hadn't been slept in at all.
Shit.
She scrambled for her phone, dialing Craig's number. After three rings, he answered.

“Craig, you were supposed to get everyone back last night. What happened to Lucas?”

“He's not with you?”

“No.”

Craig yawned loudly and Gwen could hear an alarm go off in his room before someone smacked it. “He's probably still with Maggie. He went to her room when we came back.”

Gwen felt a sudden sick lurch of her insides. “Oh right. Do me a favor, make sure, yeah? I don't want to have to tell my sister I lost her biggest star.” She hung up and tried not to think about what else she might have lost.

***

Craig confirmed that Lucas had spent the night with Maggie. He didn't confirm if there was a third there, and Gwen didn't ask. Rather than risk running into him doing a walk of shame, Gwen decided to have a real breakfast, with real coffee. With all the equipment already set up from the night before, she didn't have much to do before sound check. May as well take advantage of it while she could. She ran into Cathy at the elevator.

“Hey, Gwen!” No one should be that cheerful so early in the morning. “I was about to go for a run. You wanna go with me?”

A run would burn off some of this unpleasantness in her head, but she didn't want to go back to the suite to change clothes. “I was thinking breakfast instead. I hear the café across the street has actual coffee.”

“Get thee behind me, Satan.” Cathy laughed. “How's the food?”

“I don't know, probably greasy and delightful.”

The elevator dinged. “Okay, but we'll still tell Craig I went running.”

“My lips are sealed.” The floors blinked past, and Gwen studied the elevator floor. “Sorry if I woke you this morning. When I called.”

“We were already awake. Or I was.” Gwen didn't need to look up to know Cathy was watching her. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. I think I drank a little too much last night.”

“Aha—that's why you're looking for coffee.”

Gwen forced a smile. “You caught me.”

The elevator dinged again at the ground floor, and they walked out together. “And it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that someone might have foolishly spent the night with an ex last night.”

“Nope, not a thing.”

They hit a lull at the café, giving them several tables to choose from. The coffee was as authentic as advertised, and Gwen had about made up her mind to inhale a plate of hash browns and eggs.

Cathy looked over the menu. “So last night, when I said he was trying to make you jealous . . .”

“Yeah, I think you might have been wrong about that.”

“I'm still not convinced I was,” she said. “I've never seen him chase anyone as hard as he's chasing you. And I'll tell you something—except where music is concerned, he is a lazy, lazy man.”

“I've noticed.” They placed their orders, but Gwen's appetite had vanished. “So you're saying I made him work too hard, so he went for something easier?”

“No no, that's not what I'm saying. For him to chase this long means he's interested, really interested.”

“Was.” Gwen drained her coffee cup. “So you and Craig. After all this time, have you ever talked about—I don't know—getting married, settling down? I can't imagine this sort of life goes well with raising a family.” As a subject changer, what it lacked in subtlety it made up for in effectiveness.

“Oh sure,” she said, taking the hint. “I'm still pretty young, and Craig has an ex-wife. No kids there either, thank God, but we're both a little skittish, you know?”

Gwen was about to commit a cardinal British sin and ask too many personal questions, but better that than answer them. “Please tell me to butt out if this is too intrusive. I noticed—um, after shows—he still—”

“Flirts backstage?” Cathy toyed with her coffee cup. “I'm not crazy about it. The good thing about touring together, though, is that I know for a fact it doesn't go beyond flirting.” The smile she gave Gwen looked authentic enough. “We're together nearly twenty-four-seven; when would he have the time?”

“True.” The waitress brought their food, and the aroma of fried potatoes brought Gwen's appetite roaring back. “Although I imagine that's trouble enough on its own.”

“Hey, if a relationship can survive being on the road, it can survive nearly anything.”

***

They arrived in Detroit late enough to have the night off. Gwen planned to take full advantage: propped up in bed doing as little as possible before falling into a solid twelve hours of sleep. After D.C., she'd offered to swap rooms so Lucas and Maggie could share the suite, but they'd both given her such odd looks she didn't mention it again.

She arrived to the sound of the shower running—again—and a demolished bedroom where Lucas had already been through, pillows strewn everywhere.

They hadn't spoken in the three days since Washington, D.C., beyond what politeness required. He and Maggie didn't act any differently around each other, as far as she could see—and she couldn't help but watch. She tried to forget the whole mess and focus on her job.

She set her bag down near the small desk and kicked off her loafers, wriggling her toes with a sigh. The sofa pulled out into a bed, according to the front desk clerk, but she didn't bother, sprawling out on it instead. Her eyes had just closed when the bathroom door opened with a rush of steam.

“What's the plan for dinner?” Lucas asked from the doorway.

“The others are going out. I was going to order a takeaway.”

“You can open your eyes now. I'm not naked.”

“You prat, I was trying to nap.” Gwen opened her eyes anyway. “Going out with the rest of them?”

Lucas shrugged. He wore a soft, worn T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. Not clothes for clubbing or going out. “It's Detroit. Boring.” He pulled on a dark blue robe and started to close it.

Something in the tone of his voice caught Gwen's attention. An underlying tremor gave his words the lie, as did the mirrored tremor in his hands. Barely there, but enough to make knotting a dressing gown tricky. “Bad night?” she asked.

Another shrug. “Not bad enough that you have to babysit me. Go on and do whatever you had planned.” The vulnerability in Lucas's profile as he rifled through the desk contrasted with the cocksure, spoilt brat who normally wore that face.

“I had nothing planned but some crap American telly and some sleep.” She paused. “I can . . . go, if you'd rather be alone.”

“No, stay.” Lucas flopped on the chair opposite the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything. What did you do in Afghanistan?”

Gwen snorted. “You don't care about my army stories.”

“Sure I do. Tell me all about what you did for Queen and country.” He flashed a short-lived grin. “Where in Afghanistan did you serve?”

“Wherever the 16 Air Assault brigade went.” Gwen stretched back out on the sofa, pillowing her head on her hands. “Kandahar near the end.”

“Was that where you were shot?” He asked so carefully, so cautiously, she couldn't resist.