Trouble in the Making (4 page)

Liz sat heavily on the corner of the bed, just managing to catch herself in a flail of arms and legs before she fell to the floor in an ungraceful heap. With one hand, she gripped the thick bedcovers in a tight fist and with the other hand, she took her phone away from her ear and stared at it. The patient computerized female voice again gave her the options to save, delete or listen to her messages and so Liz, being certain she’d heard more meaning in the voicemail than intended, pressed the number to listen to her message again. The message from him. From Johnny.

Holy crap on a cracker. This was really going to happen. Johnny Trouble, high school friend and crush, beloved rock star known the world over, was just down the hall, waiting for her. Waiting to have sex with her, waiting to turn her world upside down.

After the message ended, she pressed the number nine to save it just as she’d done with nearly every other message he’d left her. She’d also saved his emails and instant messages. She kept several of his texts too. Their friendship had been deepening since they’d been seeing one another every so often since their twenty year high school reunion. It had started off slow, gradual, just an email every few weeks, but then they’d become more frequent. Instant messages came next, followed by texts and phone calls.

They’d stayed in contact electronically for several months, but he’d started showing up in Orlando, where she lived, and would ask her out to dinner or out for coffee during layovers. She’d thought nothing of it either. They were old friends and he rarely tried to draw attention to himself. Unlike earlier in the hotel espresso bar.

At their reunion, there’d been a little spark when they saw each other. When he’d danced with her, sat up until all hours talking to her even after everyone else had gone to bed, had handed her his contact card with his personal numbers and email, had kissed her in the school gym before they’d followed their former classmates out for a tour of the new school additions, the spark had grown and brightened.

During the two hour drive last night from her safe little bungalow cocoon in Orlando, north to St. Augustine, her hands had sweat and slipped on the steering wheel, her belly flipped one way and flopped the other, her mouth had gone dry, her heart threatened to thump itself right out of her chest, and well, she wouldn’t even think about the twitching of her clit between her thighs and the ache of anticipation of what was to come.

Wanting him was nothing new. She’d always wanted him. Even when he belonged to another girl twenty years ago, even when he was married to another woman a few years after his band hit the big time. Heck, for that matter, even when she was married, whenever she heard his name or saw a picture of him, her insides did a little imitation of a whirling dervish. The high school crush should have died out long before now, but it never really had.

From a distance or down the hall, she wanted him. She—

The sound of the guitar intro to one of his songs started up. His ringtone. It jarred her from her thoughts, startling her enough that this time she did end up in a heap on the floor. She winced at the slight pain in her behind and answered the phone with a huff. “Hello.”

“You’re still in your room?”

Johnny
. Hearing his voice never failed to leave her just a little breathless. “Yes. Just got out of the shower. I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“The theme park a couple of years ago. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do. It was me making a grand gesture and one you were a little speechless over.”

“I was, yes. It was incredible. Why did you do it? I mean, I always thought it was just because of your generous nature, but… Why did you do it?”

“I had a crush on you. I’ve always had a crush on you, Liz, and I promised myself when I left the reunion that I would not lose touch with you and I would act on that crush as soon as I could.”

“You rented out an entire amusement park,” she remarked drily. In truth, she was still in awe of the gesture.

She would never forget driving through the gates and seeing one car, one small little black sports car parked in the foremost parking spot. Her heart had stopped, only to start up again at the sight of him in a worn out jeans, an old Motley Crue t-shirt, his hair pulled back in a ponytail and a black ball cap on his head. He’d come to town to surprise her for her fortieth birthday.

“I did. For you.”

“The crush was mutual.”

“I know. How many times have you changed your mind since the coffee shop a little while ago?”

As. If. “None. I don’t know why you think I will.”

“Because earlier you were entirely too skittish about this.”

Okay, well, he had her there. “I am not skittish about you, though,” she admitted quietly.

“No? Are you sure? You wouldn’t even look at me until I made you.” When she didn’t answer him, he chuckled through the phone line. “I think you are, Liz, but it’s okay. I’ll wear you down soon enough.”

Liz maneuvered herself up off the floor and slipped out of her sandals. “I’m here, aren’t I? I asked
you
here, didn’t I? What more wearing down do you need to do?”

“Do you even realize I’ve been trying to woo you all these years?”

Woo her? “Woo me? You don’t have to woo. You’re Johnny Trouble. You don’t woo.”

He tsked at her over the phone. “You know this how? Hmm? Naughty girl. You shouldn’t make assumptions like that.”

“Yeah well…” It’s not that she wanted to make assumptions; it just made more sense to her to err on the side of caution. She didn’t want to get her hopes up only to have them dashed all to smithereens if she was wrong. And heaven knew she didn’t want to be wrong about him. She might not have believed he was wooing her, but she
was
wooed by the simple fact that he called and kept in touch by any means available to him.

“Yeah well,” he mocked. “Am I gonna have to come down there and drag you by your hair back to my room? I will.”

She was going to ignore the wicked little thrill the thought of him dragging her anywhere by her hair gave her. It wouldn’t work, though. She’d been trying to ignore the naughty thoughts she had about him almost daily, almost nightly, almost hourly, that drove her to slide her hands low and be ever so grateful she lived alone. “Why? Is your room better than mine?”

“Yes. It’s got me in it. And a really big bed.”

“Mine has a big bed too.” For some reason, she thought if she could make him come to her, she’d feel more comfortable, have the upper hand, whereas if he insisted she go to him…

“My room has me in a pair of leather pants.” That shut her up. “Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“Come on. Come get dirty with me. Come cuddle with me. You know you wanna.” His voice was low, sexy, and if she listened real close, she could still make out the underlying Southern accent.

“You don’t—”

“I don’t what? Get dirty? We know that’s not true. Cuddle? Is that what you’re thinking? I swear to God, little Lizzie girl, if you assume one more thing about me, I am going to paddle your delectable ass until you can’t see straight,” he gruffed. “Or sit without pain for a several days.”

Liz bit her lip. The image that appeared in her head of him doing just that brought about an instant throbbing between her legs. She’d never been paddled before, not for pleasure at least. She’d read about erotic spankings in books, though, watched a few movies that had spanking scenes and she’d listened to him talk about some of the things he’d seen and done in places all over the world. Most of his stories made her blush and pull the covers up over her head, but he knew. He knew somewhere in the dark of night she had fantasies of her own and in those late hours, when she was safely stowed many miles away from him, he’d coax her into confessing her desires. He’d talk to her in that deep voice, rough and raspy from years of smoking, drinking and screaming into a microphone.

“Really?” She hadn’t known the word was going to come out until passed through her lips. Her mind and her mouth were not on the same wave length, however her mouth and her body seemed to be by the way her breasts swelled and her tummy fluttered and her clit twitched with need. She couldn’t take the word back, the eagerness it conveyed.

“Yes, Lizzie. Really. I do have one rule for the time we are here.”

“One rule? There are rules?”

“Only one. I don’t want to talk about high school friends, I don’t want to talk about family, I don’t want to talk about anything that doesn’t have to do with us together.”

“Why not?”

“Because time is short and we can catch up on all that some other time down the road. I want this to just be about us, about learning and discovering us. Do you understand?”

For some reason, Liz was touched by his statement. She didn’t want to talk about their old friends, or even their new friends. She didn’t want to talk about her neurotic mother or Johnny’s mooching brother. They’d done that a few times in the past and would no doubt do so again, but she agreed with him that this one day should be about them and no one else. “I understand.”

“Good girl. Don’t keep me waiting much longer. Ten minutes.”

Johnny disconnected the call and Liz sat staring at her phone again. Ten minutes. What could she do in ten minutes that she hadn’t already done in the last thirty? She could look at herself in the mirror again, but she’d done that more than a dozen times. She already had on the robe, having not yet decided what she should wear down to his room, but he didn’t want her wearing anything except the robe. Her hair? It wouldn’t take much to put it into the ponytail he wanted it in. She’d moisturized her face but hadn’t put makeup on, and well, he didn’t want her to do that either. So, in reality, there wasn’t anything more for her to do in, she looked over at the clock, nine minutes.

She could contemplate the situation some more, but why? What would be the point in that? She wasn’t going to change her mind. Her fantasy man was down the hall, waiting for her.

“Down the hall,” she whispered to the empty room.

She belted her robe and went into the bathroom to put her hair up. In the mirror, she took a good look at herself. She had a few laugh lines and a bit of puffiness under her eyes. She didn’t look great and fresh without makeup, but she didn’t look like death warmed over either. She might not be as tight and toned in some areas, but she was attractive, if understated. And she could do this. She had to do this. Had, need, want. In this instance, they all meant the same thing.

“You want him, Liz,” she told herself in the mirror. “You’ve always wanted him. Now’s your chance. You want to get naked with that man down the hall who’s waiting for you.” Oh hell yes she did. She took a deep breath, let it out, then dug around in her toiletry bag for the box of condoms she’d purchased before leaving home.

She’d never had to buy condoms before. Lubed. No lube. Ridged. Smooth. Different sizes. She hoped she got the right size. It was a unique experience for someone like her, but she’d done it, forcing herself not to look away from the cashier and walked out with her head held high.

She was on the Pill, but Johnny had been all over the world with many different women. She didn’t know how he’d react to her bringing condoms with her, but better safe than sorry.

After putting two condoms in the pocket of her robe, she grabbed her key from the dresser and left the room. She did her best to ignore the growing number of butterfly wings fluttering in her stomach.

The floor was empty as far as she could tell. There were no housekeeping carts as of yet, but she figured they’d be outside the rooms soon enough. She didn’t count the steps to his room, but found herself standing in front of his door all the same. She stared at the numbers emblazoned in gold before she closed her eyes, willing her heart, her mind, her body to calm.

She was so deep inside her head, she never heard the door open. She never felt the air around her shift. She never knew anything was different until Johnny’s lips touched hers, until his hand wound itself in the few loose strands of hair at the nape of her neck, until he pulled her close against his body and his tongue languidly stroked against her lips until she parted them.

For the first few seconds, she was passive, but the moment she got a taste of him and a whiff of that particular scent of musk and leather that was all Johnny, she gripped whatever part of him she could. In this instance, it was the waist of his leather pants. Her tongue tangled with his and she lost herself in his kiss. His cock was hard against her belly and the arm that had been around her back moved and tugged at the knot at her waist.

Then his hand was touching her bare skin, sliding over her still fluttering stomach, moving up to tweak an aching nipple, wrapping around her back again and down, gripping her butt cheek firmly before dipping lower. The insistent pressure of his fingers on her inner thighs encouraged her to part her legs. The moan that escaped her was more like an animalistic groan of hunger.

Bent back slightly, anchored by the hand in her hair and the one in her pussy, she was unable to move save for the little bits he allowed. She could rock her hips. She could press closer to him. She could suck on his tongue until he lifted his mouth and looked down into her eyes. They were nose to nose, and when he moved his hand, wet with her juices, around to the V of her thighs and rasped over her clit…