And like always, I’m a little envious at how much control Lucas has.
He cradles my face between his long fingers and gives me a long stare that causes my throat to feel dry. “Tell me what the f**k is going on, Sienna.”
I rake my bottom teeth over the corner of my lip. “I see why Sinjin thinks Cilla’s the devil.”
“Is she f**king with you?”
“Apparently I’m her new stalker.”
Dropping his hands from my face, he draws back several inches. His breath bursts in and out until he demands, “She told you that?”
“Oh, and she wrote a song about screwing you.” I duck away from him because I can’t think clearly with him looking at me like this. With my back turned to him, I add, “Not sure if you’ve heard it yet, but yeah, you’re kind of a big deal.”
I brush past him, determined to go anywhere but in here, but he stops me before I can leave the room, pinning me against the door. “Do you hold all your girlfriends hostage?”
“Only you. And trust me, Red, this isn’t hostage.”
“I swear I’m fine, Lucas,” I say a little too loudly because in the other room, Sinjin yells something about not being fine and dying of thirst.
“Don’t stand there and try to feed me bullshit,” Lucas says.
He attempts to draw me to him again, but I press my palms flat against his chest. He pulls them away effortlessly, holding my wrists to my sides. “You are the only thing that matters to me,” he growls against my lips, and I squeeze my eyes together tightly. “You are mine, and anything that hurts you, f**ks with me.”
Everything burns—my chest, the inside of my eyes from tears that I’m trying desperately to hold back—but I nod anyway. “You have no idea how hearing that makes me feel. But, Lucas, I can also hold my own.”
Pressing his fingertips to the outer corners of my eyes, he exhales. “I know you can. And I won’t say anything to Cilla.”
“That’s probably what she wants anyway.”
“You’re a perceptive little thing.”
Once again he lets go of me, and I widen my eyes just in time to see him kissing the tip of his thumb. Before I can react, he leans into me, his mouth coming down on mine. I taste the salt from the tears he caught, and I push myself deeper into him, savoring everything about him. The way he feels. The way he sounds letting out a rough groan as his lips devour mine. The way he smells—a seductive mix of cologne and the sweat still clinging to his skin from performing.
“Oh, Sienna,” he breathes. “What the f**k am I going to do with you?”
“I draw the line at sex in the refreshment room.”
“I don’t want to do this after show bullshit.” He strokes the backs of his fingers over the curve of my cheek. “I want to take you back to the bus and spend every moment from here until we get to Chicago tomorrow night in that back room with you.”
I shake my head. “And Sin would hear—and comment—on everything he hears.”
He takes a step backward and then another, offering me a miserable, forced smile. “Exactly. And nobody else will give us a moment of peace either.” As if to reiterate his point, someone bangs on the door. Groaning, Lucas places his forehead against mine. “When this is all over, I’m taking you home with me, and there won’t be a goddamn thing that’ll make me let you go.”
Ugh. Only Lucas could confront me while I’m angry, diffuse the situation (for the time being) and end the conversation by leaving me anxious and anticipating our future.
“You done in there?” Sinjin yells, and for the first time, I witness Lucas gritting his teeth together.
“Frustrated, Mr. Wolfe?” I flick my nail over his nipple, but he catches my wrist, sucking the tip of my finger into his mouth.
“You’ll find out when we get to St. Louis Wednesday.”
Shooting my eyebrow up, I step aside so he can open the door. A dozen flashes and voices seem to greet him all at once, but he’s still able to hear me when I ask, “What about Sinjin’s party?”
Giving the crowd a cocky grin, he responds to me in a low voice. “We’ll go. After we’ve done what we need to do. Just know that while I’m in here doing this tonight, I’ll be thinking about how many ways I’m going to f**k you. How I’ll show you why it’s impossible for me to even think of another woman.”
With those words, he steps into the hospitality room, his stride confident and sexy. I stay where I am for a couple more minutes to catch my breath. Once I’m no longer flustered, and my face is cool to the touch, I walk out after Lucas. He’s in the center of the room, signing autographs and talking to the press, so I find a place in the corner away from the camera flashes.
When I scan my eyes around the room, I’m not shocked to see that Cilla has left. Nor am I surprised that when Sinjin and I look at each other, he’s wearing the most satisfied expression that I’ve seen him manage during this tour.
For the next 48 hours, Cilla stays clear of me. The only close encounter that we have is backstage in Chicago, when Maggie asks for my help again. After I pick out and deliver wardrobe to Your Toxic Sequel, she tasks me with taking a box of vintage-looking necklaces to Cilla’s dressing room.
I dread doing it.
I loathe conflict—I witnessed enough arguments growing up to want to have any of that in my adult life. And people like Samantha and Cilla—they’re the type I’ve always avoided under all circumstances.
But surprisingly, when Cilla opens her door, she’s somewhat civil. She’s wearing nothing but a strapless lace bra and lace boy shorts and has no problem showing off her body as she poses in the doorway giving me a pointed stare. “Yes?” she drawls.