Lead Me On Read online

  He lowered his head to hers and took little nips at her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the moment. To the pleasure of being with him. Who knew how long it would last? She was a realist, after all. He was a rock star and she was a normal person, but she would live the fantasy as long as he would let her.

  And longer in her dreams after he left.

  The bittersweet ache of his kisses sank into her heart. She parted her lips, welcoming his tongue into her mouth. He took the invitation, each swipe and stroke hungrier than its predecessor.

  Lily moaned, rubbing the curve of her sex against his groin. His erection pushed at her belly, thick and hard. It made her head swim, as did the ravenous way he made love to her mouth with his lips and tongue and teeth.

  The warmth of the water flowing over them mingled with the tight warmth building in her core. When she tried to move her hands from where he pinned them beside her head, he growled into her mouth and increased his grip on her wrists. Excited lust bloomed in the junction of her thighs and she shoved her hips forward.

  Samuel reacted to her aggression with his own, yanking her arms higher to snare both wrists in one hand above her head.

  Still kissing her, he dragged his free hand down her arm and closed it over her breast.

  Fresh heat spread through Lily’s centre. She whimpered, straining against the hand on her wrists.

  He pinched her nipple in response, and then again when she bucked against him.

  With a groan, he moved his lips to her jaw, up to her ear. He captured her earlobe with his teeth, the bite far from gentle. Lily gasped, the pleasure and pain shearing through her in a heady mix. Samuel kneaded her breast with rough fingers, tormented her nipple. She arched, the throbbing need for his cock consuming her.

  But it wasn’t his erection that parted her folds, it was his fingers. He penetrated her pussy with a steady push, sinking deep into her before withdrawing to her very entry.

  “Sam,” she rasped, pushing her hips to him again. “Oh, yes…”

  He found her clit and rolled the tip of a finger over it with increasing speed. She cried out, the coiling heat inside her excruciating in its intensity.

  And exquisite.

  He entered her with two fingers again, his thrust fierce and purposeful. She wrapped a thigh around his hip, desperate to cling to him. He groaned, crushing her mouth again.

  His tongue lashed at hers, wild and dominating. Lily met his passion with equal ferocity, hungry for everything he gave her.

  When he released her wrists and squeezed her breast with his free hand, she didn’t suppress her wanton whimper. “Yes, that’s…that’s…oh, God, that’s so…good.”

  He tore his lips from hers, staring down into her eyes. His nostrils flared. Water streamed over his face, slicking his hair to his forehead, turning it dark. “I want to be inside you now, Lily. Now.”

  She sucked in a shallow breath. “I want you there. God, I need you there. So much.”

  His jaw bunched. He tormented her nipple with his thumb. “Condom,” he said, his voice choked. “I don’t have—”

  “Pill,” she cut him off. God, if he didn’t enter her soon she was going to implode. “I’m on the pill.”

  His nostrils flared again. Fierce lust and desire blazed in his eyes. “You trust I’m clean?” he asked, the question nothing more than a rasping breath. “That I don’t have an STD? I haven’t had sex without a condom since I was sixteen, but I understand if you—”

  “I trust you, Sam,” she groaned, writhing against his hand. Oh God, she was going to come soon. Soon. “I love—”

  He yanked her thigh up by his hip and buried himself in her sex.

  Searing heat and pleasure claimed her. She cried out, the warm water splashing over them both nothing compared to the fire inside her. It radiated through her body to take possession of her very soul.

  Samuel hauled her leg higher and slammed deeper inside her. He mauled her breast with his other hand, his thumb on her nipple.

  Lily raked her nails over his shoulders, up to his scalp. She fisted her hands in his wet hair, rolling her head against the tiled wall behind her as he sought out her throat with his lips. White pain and rapture shot through her as he sucked, hard. It would leave a mark, a big one, but Lily didn’t care. Not when it felt this good.

  She squeezed her inner muscles around his thrusting cock, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he gave her. He moaned and shuddered. “Fuck, babe. Do that again and I won’t last—”

  She did it again. And again when he laughed out a hitching breath. “Christ, that feels good.”

  Their rhythm grew quicker, both moving in perfect harmony with each other. Lily rode his length, her hands tight in his hair. He drove deeper with every stroke, claiming her fully, completely.

  Her soles began to tingle. Her belly clenched. “I’m going to come.”

  The statement left her on a ragged gasp. When Samuel raised his head and gazed down into her eyes, his cock pumping in and out of her pussy with growing speed, her breath caught.

  Never had a lover looked at her with such need and love burning in their eyes.

  It was total, absolute and powerful.

  “Then come for me, babe,” he panted. “Come with me.”

  The raw command pushed her over the edge. Sent her tumbling into the depths of sheer release.

  She bucked into his thrusts, no longer in control of her body. Now it was Samuel’s. He played her with masterful strokes, squeezing her ass and pulling her into each slamming penetration, his breath ragged, his stare hot.

  And then, just as another orgasm blasted through Lily, he threw back his head and roared, every tendon straining, every muscle quivering.

  He pumped into her, his seed filling her with spurting wads. She cried out, the sensation unlike any she’d ever experienced. It was sublime. Wonderful. Intoxicating. Dizzying.

  She raked her nails over his shoulders and gave herself over to the force of his release, dying in the power of her own. Reborn as their breaths came together and he captured her mouth with his.

  He kissed her, worshiped her until the fading pulses of their orgasms faded.

  Faded.

  A lifetime later, he lowered her leg and smoothed his hand up over her hip, pressing his face to the curve of her neck.

  Pins and needles flooded her toes and she let out a shaky chuckle, wriggling her foot. She moaned in protest as his spent shaft slipped from her pussy.

  “That…” She stopped, licking warm water from her lips. She didn’t know what to say.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” he murmured into her neck.

  He roamed his hands over her hips and ribs. He stood motionless for a still moment and then straightened to rest his elbows either side of her head and gaze into her upturned face. “You asked me to show you how much I love you.” His voice caressed her senses.

  She nodded, her heart a rapid tattoo against her breastbone. From the power of their lovemaking or the blazing passion in his eyes, she didn’t know. “I did.”

  A playful grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I think you might get the idea now, yes?”

  A shimmer of worry rippled through Lily even as blissful happiness warmed her belly. How were they possibly going to make a future together work? A normal person and a rock star? It wasn’t logistically or rationally possible. And yet she wanted that future. So much. Looking up at him, she echoed his grin, trailing her fingertips down his back to the delicious curves of his ass. “I don’t know. Based on that, I’d say maybe you like me?”

  He laughed, a throaty sound of pure, carnal delight. “Oh, Lily Pearce, before the day ends, you’ll have no doubt at all.”

  And so the days and nights continued. They spent the hours while the sun was up playing ordinary people—albeit one rarely taking his sunglasses off—shopping, gallery hopping, picnicking in San Francisco’s various parks, a sedately camouflaged Brutal in tow like a muscle-bound third wheel happy to tag
along at a distance.

  The nights were spent together alone at her place, Brutal returning to the suite come sundown to fool the paparazzi into believing Samuel was there. Each evening they would cook something different, laughing and chatting as they flexed their limited culinary skills. Twice Lily called Eugene to invite him over. Both times his cell cut straight to his answering service. If it weren’t for the fact Lily was so deliriously happy, she’d be worried. But Samuel told her it was all good. Levi had reported in via text. Eugene was brushing up on his Blackthorne, Pepper had secured the bar for the band’s incognito gig and Noah and Jax were squabbling over what to call themselves for this performance. So far, they were going to be either the Bobba Fetts or Channing Tatum’s Left Nipple.

  Once dinner was over and the dishes cleared—and sometimes not even then—Lily and Samuel would make love. Over and over again. Long, hot, sweaty, passionate love, followed by Samuel falling asleep in her bed, his arms draped over her, his groin pressed to her naked butt every time.

  Lily had never been happier.

  Which made the discovery of the paparazzi camped out on the sidewalk in front of her home on the sixth morning completely jarring.

  “Fuck,” Samuel muttered, glaring at them through a crack in her living room curtains. He raised the slice of toast he was eating—slathered with some vile spread he called Vegemite that Brutal had delivered yesterday—to his mouth and took an angry bite. If he wasn’t standing buck naked, Lily would have been intimidated by the aggression in his voice.

  Instead, she peered through the slither of space between the curtains at the intrusive photographers lining the sidewalk and let out a steady breath. “I guess that’s the end of our anonymity?”

  He took another bite and, toast clamped between his teeth, flipped the paparazzi the bird through the crack in the curtain.

  Lily snorted. “Very mature.”

  He grinned at her. “I never said I was mature. Arrogant, narcissistic and brooding, yes. Mature? No.”

  Lily chuckled. “Okay, Mr. Rock Star. What’s the next move?”

  He returned his toast to his plate, placed the plate on the closest surface—the bookshelf under the window—and grabbed her hips with animalistic force. “This one.”

  He crushed her mouth with a salty kiss and snarled a curse into her mouth when someone thumped on the front door. “It’s me, boss,” Brutal’s raised voice sounded on the other side.

  “Go away,” Samuel yelled back, grinning down at Lily as he reached for the fly of her jeans.

  Lily wriggled out of his arms, laughing. Or at least she tried to. He wouldn’t let her go, tugging at the toggle of her zipper even as she slapped at his hands. “You need to let him in, Samuel.”

  “Err, boss?” Brutal’s voice came through the door, louder this time.

  “I said go away!” Samuel shouted back, yanking down Lily’s fly.

  “Coming, Maurice,” she yelled over her shoulder, planting her palms on Samuel’s chest and shoving at him. “Stop it,” she hissed at him, trying to keep her expression fierce. It was tricky, especially when he shook his head with devilish intent.

  “Boss,” Brutal called, “they’re coming up the path now.”

  “Oi, Gibson!” a different voice shouted from outside, a broad Australian accent turning Samuel’s surname to a drawl. “Come out and say cheese.”

  “Fuck!” Samuel growled, stepping away from Lily. Anger flashed over his face. “Bloody Holston.”

  Lily frowned. “Who’s Holston?”

  “Australian paparazzo. Pain in the arse. Won’t quit until he gets the money shot.” He dragged his hands through his hair, his glare at the door flinty. “Fuck. Better let Brutal in.”

  He strode to the door, fists bunched.

  Lily blinked. “Samuel, you’re naked.”

  He grabbed the doorknob, turned it to the right and then pulled the door open, stepping behind it as he did so. Out of sight of the swarming photographers outside.

  Brutal barged in, grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut. Right on the smirking face of a man who looked, for all the world, as if he was trying to follow Brutal into Lily’s home.

  The bodyguard flicked Samuel a glance. “You okay, boss?”

  Samuel looked down at his naked body and then cocked an eyebrow at his bodyguard.

  Brutal shrugged. “My job to ask.” He turned his attention to Lily. “Ms. Pearce. Do you want me to call the police?”

  Lily blinked. It was the first time Brutal had addressed her directly. “Umm…”

  From her bedroom, Samuel’s phone started ringing.

  “So much for what I had planned for the morning,” Samuel muttered, throwing Brutal a surly glare. He turned and stomped from the living room.

  Lily couldn’t stop her gaze lingering on his ass as he did so. It was so goddamn tight and sexy and she loved the Australian flag tattooed on—

  “Are you ready to become famous, Ms. Pearce?”

  Brutal’s question caught her off-guard. She swung a frown at him, something about the way he was looking at her making her uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the girlfriend of a world-famous rock musician. You’re going to be stalked by paparazzi now. Are you ready for that?”

  A thick lump filled Lily’s throat. “I don’t think…I’m not his…”

  Brutal’s expression never changed. “I’ve been his bodyguard for close to fifteen years, and he’s never spent more than a single night with a woman, let alone two weeks. He’s in love with you, and the press is going to eat that up. Every move you make in public, someone will be there photographing it. What’s outside now is only the beginning. If you’re having a bad day there’ll be photos of you everywhere under the headlines like ‘Gibson and Girlfriend in Relationship Misery’. If you’re photographed with another man they will say you’re having an affair. If you become pregnant, they will be waiting at every doctor’s appointment. When you have his baby, they’ll chase you down trying to get a photo of the child. You ready for that?”

  Lily frowned. A band of cold pressure wrapped her chest. Her stomach rolled. “I…” She stopped. Swallowed.

  “It was Pepper.”

  Lily started at Samuel’s voice. She snapped her stare from Brutal’s unreadable one, her heart hammering in her throat.

  Samuel strode towards her, black leather trousers covering his long legs, black leather vest hanging from his shoulders, the famous beaten-up leather cowboy hat on his head.

  The rock star once more.

  Lily’s stomach rolled again.

  “We gotta get to the Hilton,” he said, watching his hands as he zipped up his fly. “Rolling Stone magazine has requested an exclusive interview. And by requested I mean offered to pay us big bucks to talk about finding a replacement for Nick. The reporter is meeting us there at ten.” He raised his focus from his now closed zipper and frowned at Lily. “What’s up?”

  Pulse pounding, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

  He narrowed his eyes, slid a glance to Brutal and then back to her again. “Sure? You look…stressed.”

  She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m fine. Go be a rock star.”

  He didn’t move.

  Lily rolled her eyes. “Go. It’s about time I do some laundry and ironing anyway.”

  He narrowed his eyes again. “What if I wanted you to come with me?”

  Lily flicked Brutal a quick look before shaking her head. “Go do what you have to do. I really need to do the ironing.”

  Samuel didn’t look convinced.

  “Gotta go, boss,” Brutal’s rumble sounded on the silence. “I called the limo when I saw the pap and it’s just arrived.”

  “Lily?” Samuel frowned. “Is there something going on?”

  She cocked an eyebrow, projecting an air of sardonic mirth. “You want to stay and do my ironing, Mr. Gibson? While I go talk about replacing Nick Blackthorne?”

  He chuckled. “No way. Me and irons do
n’t mix.”

  “Then get your ass out of here. I’ll meet you at the bar tonight. Promise.”

  Still looking uncertain, he crossed to where she stood, took her in his arms and kissed her stupid. “Love you, babe,” he murmured when he finally let her go. “See you tonight.”

  “Tonight,” she whispered back, her heart beating fast, her belly fluttering.

  He was through the front door before she knew it, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang.

  Leaving Lily alone in her home, Brutal’s words of warning echoing through her head.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were two problems with the night so far. One, Eugene hadn’t arrived for set-up, something Pepper had instructed him to do. And two, Lily was still a no-show.

  Samuel paced the small dance floor in front of the just as small stage, his head thumping.

  He should be worried about Eugene’s absence. Lily’s brother hadn’t answered his mobile phone no matter how many times Pepper had called him. At this point, Jax was casting Levi glances that spoke volumes. From the first day, when they’d found Eugene in rehab, Jax had been cautious. Samuel remembered the hesitant expression the keyboard player had worn when they’d told Eugene they wanted to hear him sing. Levi was astute, his enthusiasm for Eugene tempered even after the initial audition.

  Samuel wanted to tell them to stop being so bloody paranoid. Of course Eugene would be here. Why would he not? He was getting the chance to perform with one of the most successful rock bands in music history.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t do either—couldn’t be worried or tell anyone anything. Because Lily wasn’t here.

  Thirty minutes before the bar opened, thirty minutes before the gig started, and Lily wasn’t here, and his gut was telling him that was a problem.

  He pivoted on his heel and strode across the dance floor to where Brutal sat perched on a stool at the bar. His bodyguard was once again dressed in his normal attire—sweatpants the most blinding shade of green, tight T-shirt and white-framed Ray-Bans atop his shaved head—the tribal tattoo covering half his face making him appear all the more menacing in the bar’s muted lighting.