Light My Fire (Rock Royalty Book 1) (25 page)

He wasn't going to go at it at all.

Fuck.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice sounded rough. Almost mean. Because he felt that way. Rough and mean. And desperate, damn it.

"I want to model them for somebody," she said, apparently unfazed by his surly tone. "And you're convenient. You're here, and you're kind of like a brother—"

"I'm
definitely
not your brother." It came out like a growl.

Her eyes widened and he saw the first sign of nerves. "Um, well... I have another."

She escaped.

He thought he should too. The best course of action would be to grab his keys and go out like he had the night before. Have some drinks. Attempt to drown the clamoring voices in his head and the insistent lust in his body.

Turning, he got as far as reaching for his keys in his pocket when he smelled her scent in the room. It waved through the air, the delicate citrus-blossom-and-water fragrance that drifted from her hair whenever she was near. His senses went on high alert as he detected a note of yet another captivating perfume. Her personal perfume. Female arousal.

Cilla was turned-on.

His dick went instantly hard. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked again, his back still to her.

"I want to know I have something my future lover will like."

Future lover.

Ren spun to face her.

His head did a second spin as he took in what she was now wearing. "Fuck me," he muttered. "
Fuck me
."

It was the flesh-toned, see-through corset, which boosted her breasts and cinched her narrow ribcage. The hem of it was a flirt of narrow ruffles that met the matching panties. Through the transparent fabric, Ren could see her bare pussy, the dainty line of her lips a shadow behind the sheerness. A pair of pale pink stockings were snapped to frilly garters.

His dick throbbed and he promised it that no one, no one beside him, was ever going to see her in something so decadent and so delicious.

"Get that off," he ordered.

Her eyes went wide. "What?"

"Get that off. I have to burn it."

Glaring, she slammed a hand to her hip. "You are
not
burning this."

Ren advanced a step. "I told you. Take it off."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then I'd be naked, Ren."

That halted him. "Right. Can't get you naked."

A sly smile turned up her mouth. "Unless you want to."

"I don't," he lied.

"It could be a goodbye fu—"

"We're not going to say goodbye. I don't do those."

She rolled her eyes. "You go, it's goodbye whether you say the word or not."

Her logic was making no sense to him, not when he was battling his lust and his agitation.
Future lover.

"You can't wear that for anyone else," he said, adamant.

A sassy expression overtook her face.

Shit. Cilla. Sassy. He was done for.

"I'm not letting this go to waste," she said, drawing her fingertips from her cleavage to her mons. She rested her palm over the slight mound.

Ren's blood burned as it raced through his system. "Why are you doing this?"

Her brows rose. "I thought that maybe, just maybe, you might have something left to teach me."

He groaned.

"Do I take that as a no?"

Ren wasn't aware of moving. One moment he was standing there, resisting taking her into his arms, and the next she was up against his body and he was bending her over his arm so he could string kisses from her breasts to her throat to her dimpled chin. He tongued her there, hearing her moan as she trembled in his arms.

Then his lips met hers and his tongue slid inside the heated wetness of her. When he lifted his head to allow them breath, he looked into her half-closed eyes and read the triumph there. Temper joined the flames of desire licking over his skin. "Damn you," he whispered. "Damn you for this."

Cilla's hands speared into the hair at the back of his head and dragged his mouth back to hers. "You have all night to make me pay for it."

Fine. He would. And his anger would prevent any other, more dangerous feelings from finding their way in. He turned her, his hands hard on her shoulders. "Get to the bedroom," he said, and when she hesitated, he reached down to snap one garter against the back of her thigh.

She yelped, but the look she sent him over his shoulder was mischievous.

He didn't let it soften him. "When I get in there, that outfit better be off."

Breathing deep, he gave her a five-minute head start. Okay, he was going to do it one more time. Give it to her because she was asking for it and because his goddamn cock was clamoring for it and because tomorrow night he was leaving and London was so many miles away that his detachment would be guaranteed.

Still, he felt furious with himself and with her as he stalked down the hallway. Then he saw her, stockings off, panties off, as she struggled with the fastenings that brought the two halves of the corset together at her midline. She glanced at him standing in the doorway. "This is easier to get into than out of," she said. "Don't be mad."

But he had to be. So he stalked toward her and brushed her hands away. "I've got this," he said, taking over the task.

Once undone, he tossed the garment onto a nearby armchair and stood staring down at her bared body. "God, Cilla," he said, stunned by her beauty all over again.

"Are you angry?" she asked, a playful gleam in her eye.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "How're you going to make it up to me?"

Her hands went to the sides of his waist and she steadied herself there as she dropped to her knees. "I have an idea," she whispered.

His head fell back while her fingers worked to unbutton and unzip his jeans. His cock practically leaped out as she bared him, pushing down the denim and his boxers before she drew her fingertips over his heated skin. He gritted his teeth against the delicate pressure, and his own hand came out to sift into the hair at the side of her head.

She gave him a kiss then, a string of them, wet and sweet from hip bone to hip bone. Pursing her lips, she blew air along the damp line, causing him to shudder. Next she tickled his navel with the tip of her tongue and then the devilish instrument brushed the swollen head of his dick.

His pulse leaped and his fingers flexed against her scalp. She tortured him with gentle flicks and long licks and slow swirls that made his muscles tense and his balls draw close to his body. She touched him there as she took him into her mouth, running her short nails over the tight flesh. Then she sucked, bobbing up and down on his shaft. Ren felt another flash of fire roll over him and he almost lost it when he glanced down to see her eyes trained on his face.

Those big blue eyes, that tousled blonde hair, her rosy mouth pulling on him, pulling on him, pulling on him—

He yanked out, almost coming at the sight of his engorged flesh wet from her hot mouth. "Get on the bed," he ordered. "I have things I want to do to you."

For the last time.

And he was going to do them, all of them, without attaching anything sentimental or romantic to his performance. That way, in the morning he hoped his libido would be so exhausted that it wouldn't have the energy to make an argument when he left.

So he went to work.

Cilla soon lost any vestige of playfulness. Her mischief was nowhere to be seen. As he tasted her, touched her, opened her, had her, her face took on a drugged expression. Her body moved as if in a dream, her limbs acquiescent to where and how he moved them. He arranged her for his pleasure and then made sure she experienced it too.

Finally, he could take no more foreplay. Cilla had come twice already and it was his turn. Working quickly, he positioned her on her hands and knees, not even thinking why he chose to finish this way until he pushed inside her and she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He'd wanted to avoid her eyes, he realized. He'd wanted to avoid this exact look on her face.

Sticky.

That's the only way he could think to describe it. That expression—willing, yielding, open, giving—was going to stay with him beyond the night. He braced one hand on the small of her back, the other buried in the bedclothes as he powered into her, thrusting, with each plunge trying to make himself believe this was just a body, a wet, heated glove of any woman. It was just an ordinary climax that gathered low in his belly then exploded, bursting from his cock in powerful spasms that rocked his world.

Afterward, he lay in the dark, Cilla spooned in his arms, the covers pushed to their knees. She breathed, soft and even, and he ran his hand over her flank, committing her shape to memory as she slept on.

She was like no other woman, and a wash of shame went through him that he'd even tried to convince himself otherwise.

Cilla was his sweet, passionate, rock princess and he'd had her for a time. For a time, she thought she loved him.

Lucky Ren.

Undeserving Ren.

Her feelings wouldn't last, of course. He'd leave and she'd realize she could have a man who could give her everything... His hand swept over her hip again and even in the darkness he could make out the black shape tattooed on his wrist. Yes. She'd find a man who could give her it all—including a whole heart.

He buried his face deeper into the pillow beside her, her scented hair beneath his cheek. "Baby, I'm not good enough for you, okay?" he whispered, knowing she didn't hear him. "But think of me...fondly, yeah? And I'll think of you always."

Chapter 14

Cilla lay naked and still beside Ren in bed, keeping her breathing even, as his words echoed in her head.
Baby, I'm not good enough for you, okay? But think of me...fondly, yeah? And I'll think of you always.
He was stroking her with his warm hand and through her half-closed eyes she watched his fingers caress her, that dark, partner-less tattoo on his wrist the reminder of something else he'd once said.

I suck at anything other than solitary.

But that just wasn't true! He wasn't a loner by nature—those photos from his childhood were testament to that—but then there'd been a change. Some occurrence, or simply the strain of growing up with such disreputable and infamous fathers perhaps, had made him turn inward.

If anything, she decided, Ren's need for bonds was greater than for the rest of the nine, as proven by his reaching out to his mother and then to his grandfather. Yet he'd been cut off from true connection with them in both instances. No wonder he'd stopped seeking out such ties.

Cilla could give one to him, though. The idea had come to her as he continued with that light, gentle touch.

She could give him a solid, real connection that was permanent. That would let him know, forever, that he was a part of a whole.

The rest of the rock royalty would have a place in this too, she decided, setting her mental alarm clock to early. Beside her, she sensed Ren finally sliding into sleep. And relishing his closeness, she allowed her eyes to close too.

Late that next afternoon, Cami Colson returned Cilla to the compound gates, driving her Volkswagen Beetle. They'd been together for hours, as Cilla had contacted the other woman by phone first thing in the morning. Fortunately, Cami had the day off from the salvage yard and there was no musical gig on her schedule for the evening, which left her free to pick up Cilla while Ren was still sleeping.

Together, they'd concocted plans and worked their phones and once that was finished, they'd made a momentous stop. Now that the last detail was complete, they both stared at the closed metal gates. This near to Ren, Cilla's heart started thudding hard in her chest and a thousand doubts crept in.

"Are you sure about this?" Cami said, voicing Cilla's uncertainty.

She grimaced. "It's a little too late for second thoughts, don't you think?"

"Yeah," the other woman agreed. "So you know, I think you've inspired me to write a song."

"Tell me it won't be a country tune like that one about grandma getting run over by the reindeer."

Cami's lips twitched. "I'll make sure it doesn't have a holiday theme."

Still, Cilla didn't move a centimeter toward her door handle. "I don't know what I expect him to do," she whispered.

"Didn't you say the point was that he didn't have to do anything?" Cami reminded her. "That this was all about giving something freely to Ren?"

"Right," she said, rubbing her damp palms against the legs of her jeans. "It's not to oblige him to anything. We're just...reaching out. Making a statement."

Cami slanted her a glance. "Some of our statements are a little more forceful than others."

"You think I'm nuts."

"I think you might be the bravest Lemon kid of them all."

Cilla smiled at that. "Wait until Beck finally returns home and regales us with tales of wrestling alligators and riding on the backs of panthers."

"You know what you're doing is way scarier than either of those."

Cilla squeezed shut her eyes. "Not owning up to it won't make it any less true," she said.

"Exactly why I'm hoping I never fall in love," Cami replied. "I'll just settle for singing about heartbreak."

"That doesn't sound like a vote of confidence."

"Oh, Cilla..." Cami started.

She held up her hand. "I know, I know. This was my idea, I'm aware of that. And I'm aware I said I was willing to do this no matter the outcome."

But she wanted it to go...well.

So there was nothing left to do but get out of the car and walk into the compound. She bent to talk to Cami through the open passenger window. "See you later."

"Count on it, sister," the other woman said.

Sister
, Cilla thought.
Wouldn't that be nice?

Then she made her way into Gwen's house. It was filled with late afternoon sunshine and the scent of coffee. She noted the pot on the coffee maker's element looked fresh, but she didn't need to pour caffeine into her nervous stomach, especially as she'd had two shots of tequila—one before, one after—her final stop.

On slow feet, she sought out Ren, knowing he must be there because of the coffee and because of his car she'd seen in the drive. At the entry to the bedroom they'd been sharing, she halted, her heart slamming into her ribs so hard she had to grip the doorjamb to steady herself.