Wild Open (26 page)

O’Connor’s hotel room was actually a suite, with a sitting area and kitchenette. He dropped her hand once they were inside and said, “As much as I want to ravage you right now, I really need a shower if I ever want you to have sex with me again.”

She laughed. “That bad?”

“Those fucking stage lights were about 10,000 degrees,” he said, and stripped his shirt off. The view was enticing enough that Leah missed the next few words he said. “—if you want.”

“What?” Leah said, and replayed the conversation in her head. He had asked if she wanted to join him in the shower. “Yes. Absolutely.”

They stumbled into the bathroom, kissing and laughing, groping each other haphazardly. O’Connor was right that he was pretty sweaty, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Leah sort of liked the way he smelled, all rugged and manly. She skimmed her hands across his shoulders and chest, enjoying the feel of his taut muscles.

“Let’s get you naked,” he said, and casually stripped her, somehow managing to unhook her bra one-handed while his other hand was halfway down the back of her jeans. He was showing off. Leah couldn’t even unhook her own bra with one hand. She was going to call him out on it, but then his mouth was on her breasts and she didn’t care anymore.

He turned on the shower and backed her under the warm water. The shower stall was a huge, tiled enclosure with one of those rainfall fixtures attached to the ceiling, and it did feel like rain falling over Leah’s body as they stood twined beneath the spray. They were alone in the world, just the two of them and the rain.

O’Connor groaned her name, his hands on her lower back, on her ass, his mouth moving down her neck in sloppy kisses. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the water beat down on her upturned face. Her body tingled. She didn’t want to wait. She should have jumped him in the car.

He seized two handfuls of her wet hair and tugged, not very hard. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I missed you,” he said.

Her heart overflowed. She blinked the water from her eyes. “It’s only been two months.”

“It seemed like a fucking eternity,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let you get on that plane. I should have had you come back to Chicago with me.”

She twined her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “But it’s all worked out okay, don’t you think? I would have gotten bored being your house-girlfriend.”

“Sweet Leah,” he said. “I know you would have. You like keeping busy.” He gazed down at her, eyes dark, expression serious. Leah’s heart beat a little faster. “It’s part of why I love you.”

*Oh.* Her stomach flipped. Somewhere behind her, a choir of angels materialized and started singing. Was this what it felt like?

It must be. Nausea, terror, reckless joy: love.

“That’s a big word,” she said.

He groaned. “Don’t torment me, Leah. Come on.”

She grinned. “Okay. I love you.”

“Thank the baby Jesus,” he said, and pulled her against him once more.

The ostensible reason for the shower was to clean O’Connor off, but he spent far more time standing at Leah’s back and slowly and luxuriously soaping every inch of her body. She leaned back against him while his hands lingered on her breasts and then slid down between her legs. His soap-slick fingers stroked at her, and she moaned her pleasure.

Finally he released her, and it was her turn to wash him: his long arms, his strong thighs, and his thick, hard cock. It leapt in her hand, and Leah grinned, delighted that she could make him respond in that way. She teased him with light, gentle touches, until he groaned and crushed her against him.

She responded eagerly, taking him in hand, trying to guide him between her legs, but he laughed and pulled away.

“Not here. Shower sex is a head injury waiting to happen.”

“You sound like Rushani,” she said.

“Fighting words,” he said. He shut off the water and scooped Leah into his arms, and carried her into the bedroom while she shrieked with laughter and dripped all over the carpet. “There,” he said, sounding satisfied, and deposited her on top of the neatly made bed.

It was against Leah’s religion to ruin a bedspread, so she wriggled beneath the sheets and pulled the covers up to her chin, smiling innocently at O’Connor.

“You look very sweet,” he said. “Cozy. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your name.”

Leah threw off the covers, exposing her damp body to his gaze. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He lay on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress, and kissed her for a long time. She lost track of everything but the feeling of his mouth against hers. She knew she wanted more than this—wanted him *in* her, wanted to feel all of him—but his kisses were so distracting that she forgot to protest.

“Ready?” he asked her at long last, and she nodded and lifted her hips so that he could enter her.

After all of the build-up, and the months of waiting, neither of them had the patience to go slow. The irregular stutter of O’Connor’s hips told Leah how eager he was, and she felt just the same, just as raw-edged and greedy. Their lips brushed together, open and panting, both of them too caught up in pleasure to maintain a kiss.

Leah spread her legs wide and arched her back, wanting him, wanting to take all of him. And he gave her what she wanted, hard and fast, his hips grinding against hers. “Leah, Leah,” he said. She scratched her nails down his back. She was too hot. She was sweating; she was overcome. She arched against him again. Her muscles tightened. He moved faster. She arched, clenched, and came apart beneath him, crying out.

“Leah,” he said again, and followed her over the edge.

CHAPTER TWENTY

O’Connor needed another shower, which led to more sex, which led to a third shower, and after that they were hungry. “I want Chinese food,” Leah said. “No. Ethiopian. Can we get Ethiopian?”

He lay on the bed and watched her stand in front of the mirror, completely naked, and comb her hair. Christ, she was a sight. Beautiful, sexy, and completely relaxed. She probably had no idea what her rear view was doing to him. “We can get whatever you want.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Careful. I might take advantage.”

“I hope you do,” he said. Her smile was devastating. He understood all of that old love poetry now, all of that bullshit about summer days and ten thousand ships. He was no poet, and never would be, but Leah made him regret that he couldn’t put words to the exact feeling in his chest when she looked at him with her eyelids lowered.

Leah said she knew a good place that delivered, and she called them to put in an order. O’Connor lay on the bed and thought about his life. Two months ago he had thought the universe was ending. But now Andrew was doing better, and they were even talking about going on tour in Asia that winter like they had scheduled. They were back in the studio, working on their next album. They had a new bassist who was a fantastic musician and a pretty cool person.

And he had Leah, now. For the night, and—he hoped—forever. He would just have to do his best to keep her.

She got off the phone and climbed into bed with him, still naked, and curled up against his chest. “They said forty-five minutes.”

“Then I’ll put some pants on in forty minutes,” he said. Her damp hair clung to his skin. He stroked one hand down her side. “Tell me about this band you’re starting.”

All he knew about it was a brief text message she had sent him a few days earlier. He felt her inhale, her chest expanding against him. “You make it sound more definite than it actually is. I’m still just thinking about it.”

“But you’re going to,” he said. “Right? You aren’t going to be happy booking other people’s bands forever.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “We’ll see. I’ve been talking to a few people.”

“So you’ll be in L.A. then,” he said. “For the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And you’ll be everywhere else.”

He saw where this conversation was going: it would end with her telling him they had no future, that long-distance never worked, and that they should make a clean break before somebody got hurt. It was too late for that. “We’ll make it work,” he said fiercely.

“Sure,” she said, surprising him. “I think so.”

“It won’t be very fair to you,” he said, and then wondered why he was arguing against himself. Well, because he loved her, and he didn’t want her agreeing to an arrangement that would make her miserable. “I’ll be away all the time.”

She laughed. “O’Connor, come on. I am probably the best-equipped person in the world for having a relationship with a rock star. I know
exactly
what I’m up against. I know what touring is like. I know that sometimes you’ll be too tired to talk to me, or too busy. I know you’ll have to cancel plans, and that your schedule might change at the last minute. That’s okay. I don’t need you to be the center of my universe.”

“What if I want to be the center of your universe?” he asked.

“Tough shit,” she said, and grinned at him. “Come on. You wouldn’t want that. It’s romantic in, like,
Romeo and Juliet
, but real people don’t operate like that. I have friends and family here in L.A. You don’t have to be
everything
to me. I’ll do my thing, and you’ll do yours, and we’ll see each other as much as we can.”

“That’s not what I want,” he said. “I want you all the time, I want you with me—”

“I know,” she said. “And I want that too, but it’s not possible. I’m not going to follow you around on tour, and you’re certainly not going to quit the band and move here. So we’ll do what we can, and we’ll make it work.”

He sighed, still not happy with the scenario she was outlining. He
wanted
her to follow him around on tour. He wanted to see her every morning of his life, with her messy hair and the way she squinted a little before her first cup of coffee. But he couldn’t ask her to give up on her own dreams. And he loved her in part because she
had
dreams, because she wouldn’t be content following him. “I guess so,” he said begrudgingly.

“How long are you in L.A.?” she asked.

“Four more days,” he said. “We’re doing some recording tomorrow, and meeting with some people at the label the day after.”

“So we’ll hang out some while you’re here,” she said. “And then what?”

“Well,” he said, and thought about it. They were working the album, but since he did most of the writing, he didn’t
really
need to be in Chicago. He could work from anywhere, and send demos to the others for feedback. They had canceled the European leg of their tour that was supposed to start that month, and so he wouldn’t be on the road at all until February at the earliest. “I don’t really have anywhere I need to be for a while.”

She smiled and stretched, long and languid. “What do you think about renting an apartment in L.A. for a month or two?”

“That,” he said, “is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

* * *

He woke slowly, from a vague, pleasant dream that vanished as soon as he tried to recall it. He rolled over, eyes still closed, and bumped into a warm body in the bed beside him.

He remembered now. Leah was here.

He reached down, still muzzy with sleep, and squeezed the bare curve of her ass. Leah, at long last.

She made a grumbly noise and turned toward him, her head lifting from the pillow. “Whazzat?”

He grinned and kissed the back of her neck. They had never woken up together before. “Rise and shine. It’s after 10.”

“Sounds early to me,” she said, and yawned hugely, her jaw cracking. “Some reason you need to be up?”

“I’m supposed to have breakfast with the others at 11, and be in the studio by noon,” he said.

“Sounds like we can spend a little more time in bed,” she said, and arched against him invitingly.

O’Connor wasn’t the kind of fool who would turn her down.

He was a little late for breakfast.

Leah went with him, after some persuading—“Aren’t James and Andrew going to be mad?” she asked, and O’Connor had to explain that they both already knew. They walked into the dining room holding hands, Leah trailing a bit behind him, suddenly shy for no reason. O’Connor spotted James and Andrew sitting in a corner with Nathan and made his way toward them, and watched with evil delight as James and Andrew realized who he had with him.

“Morning, gents,” O’Connor said.

James started shaking his head.

“I’ll be damned,” Andrew said. “So that’s where you went last night.”

“Hi,” Leah said, and waved with her free hand. O’Connor still hadn’t released her. He was going to hold her hand until he died.

Andrew stood up from his chair and came around the table to give Leah a hug. She gave O’Connor a look as Andrew embraced her that was both happy and confused, and he bit back a smile. Who knew how Andrew’s mind worked? He must have decided, at some point, that Leah was good people.

“It’s great to see you again,” Andrew said, and then James, obviously feeling pressured by Andrew’s warm welcome, stood up and hugged Leah too.