Owned (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion Book 5) (5 page)

She tightened her hand around his. “What?”

“You should go to London,” he said finally. “Just be prepared to get about fifty dirty texts a day and possibly a few dirty pictures.”

She laughed and tipped her head against his. “It’s only for four days. I’ll be back before you realize I’m gone.”

“Doubt it.”

“Gotta say though, I’m glad it bothers you. You’ve been acting so weird lately that I thought you might want to backtrack.”

“Say what? Hey, don’t eat that.” Nick let go of her hand to pry Axl’s mouth off his watch, then nudged his bottle between the baby’s lips again.

Yet another thing about babies that made him nervous—you basically needed six pairs of eyes to keep track of them at all times.

“Okay, wait, backtrack. You just said I wanted to backtrack?” He let out a laugh that sounded more than a little manic even to his own ears.

“I don’t know. Do you? We’ve gone kind of fast.” She fussed with Axl’s socks. “I just want to make sure we’re good.”

“Oh yeah, we’re good. At least I’m good. Are you not good? Is that why you think I’m not? Because, hello, you’re not the only one who can make concessions.” He stuck out his leg as Dylan started to wander past, effectively stopping the toddler in his tracks. Dylan giggled and pushed at Nick’s leg, but Nick didn’t budge. “Didn’t I say I’d be okay with one male child? Concession.”

Lila’s lack of response was the only thing that stilled his tongue. That and the certainty that yet again he’d just fucked himself without benefit of lube.

She grabbed Dylan and set him on her lap, then picked up the ring of plastic keys that he apparently loved to chew on. He latched onto the keys and glanced between the adults, clearly sensing the tension in the air.

Proved he was smarter than Nick, who couldn’t seem to shut the hell up. Especially since she wasn’t talking, which was freaking him out.

“It’s not just about me and what I want. You should go to London, and I should—”

“Impregnate me with one male baby?” The way her eyebrow climbed toward her hairline didn’t exactly demonstrate approval of this idea.

“Only if you want me to. Because I’m open-minded. I don’t always think of just myself. Relationships are about two people both making sacrifices, right?”

“Right. And you inseminating me with this solitary male child would be your sacrifice for me.” She smiled coolly. “Correct?”

“I didn’t say that.” Had he? It was so hard to tell, since he’d said so very much in the last ten minutes.

“No? Sounded that way to me.”

Axl started to whine and push away his bottle, which caused Dylan to lean forward to snag the bottle away from the baby. She plucked it out of his hand. “You have your own bottle, Dylan, and you didn’t want it.”

Dylan screeched loud enough to pop Nick’s eardrums. Forget being on a stage of screaming guitars. That kid’s lungs beat them all.

“You know what, never mind. I think even a single male baby is too many,” Nick muttered.

Lila picked up a squalling, red-faced Dylan and carted him out of the room. He probably needed a diaper change or something. Nick hoped she remembered to move quickly in case of sudden showers.

He’d found that one out the hard way himself a few weeks ago. Evidently, having a penis didn’t instruct you on the ways it could be used against you when changing a baby’s diaper.

Axl glanced up at Nick, his almost nonexistent eyebrows pinched together. “Yeah, yeah, I put my foot in it,” he said to the silently disapproving child. “What else is new?”

He should probably make sure that ring he bought had a good return policy, just in case.

“
Y
ou’ll be back
on the twenty-eighth for our meeting with Blake Carson.”

“Yes, Donovan,” Lila said, doing her best not to sound bored. Or annoyed. Or frustrated.

Perhaps all three.

She was so ready to leave work behind for two weeks. Granted, spending those two weeks with Nick after their not-quite an-argument a few nights ago didn’t sound like an incredible proposition either, but she was looking forward to seeing her family. To being back home in the cheerful bosom of Happy Acres at the holidays.

Oh, and not thinking about the one male child she had been “allowed” to have before the chance had been snatched away.

What a jerk. As if they could order the sex of the kid ahead of time. He was conceding to give her a child. Well, whoop-ti-do. Had she even said she wanted one with him?

No, she had not. Just because he could calm babies with his mystical air guitar skills and that he’d admitted he didn’t want her to go away on a business trip because he would miss her—he hadn’t said the missing part, but she’d gotten the gist—didn’t change the nonsense he’d spewed afterward.

He’d acted like the backtracking thing was so ridiculous, but was it really? He might be happy with her, and she might be happy with him, but if it got to a point when she wanted more, then what?

God, she had to talk to Margo. She needed to speak with a sane female friend who understood how males thought and wouldn’t judge her for wavering between the urge to commit boyfriendcide and the desire to make a lifetime commitment all within the same day.

“Lila? Are you still there?”

“Yes, sorry,” she said, winding a loose strand of hair around her finger. “What did you say?”

While Donovan droned on about meetings and flight plans and rock stars with massive egos, she glanced at Nick, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the plane. In his hand was a giant pair of scissors and he was slicing into wrapping paper with nothing short of glee.

He’d remembered this morning that he hadn’t wrapped any of the gifts he’d gotten for her parents, and though they’d been on the flight for hours already, he was just getting around to decorating the packages. Even that much forethought from him amazed her. Last year, he’d shopped on Christmas Eve. This year, he’d done it a couple weeks early.

Progress. All she could ask for was progress.

“I said merry Christmas, Lila. Don’t think about work for two weeks.”

She smiled. “Thanks. Hope you have a great holiday too. And thank you for letting me borrow the company jet.”

“Sure thing. I may pay a visit to Happy Acres myself one of these days. It sounds bucolic.”

“Bucolic.” She rolled the word around on her tongue. “Yes, I think that’s a good word to describe it. You’re welcome anytime you’d like.”

“Thank you. Happy holidays.” Donovan clicked off.

She set down her phone, then walked past Nick into the bedroom and undid the buttons of her cardigan. That he paid her no mind demonstrated how much of a gulf had formed between them the last few days.

And for what? Because he’d said something Nick-ish about having a male baby. This wasn’t shocking information. She’d known he would be slow to warm up to the whole parenthood idea. No big. They had time.

They had all the time in the world.

It was Christmas, and this year, they had each other. They didn’t have to hide. They were happy and in love, and none of the rest of the stuff mattered. Whatever was meant to be would be.

Que sera sera.

She tossed aside her sweater and went to work on the zipper of her skirt. When she was down to her bra and panties, she took a deep breath and threw back her shoulders. Seducing him still took some effort. It probably always would. She’d spent a lot of years alone, even within the boundaries of her marriage, and undressing for a man—even for Nick—made her skin prickle from the inside out.

But he was worth it.
They
were worth it. And she was going to strip all the way before she presented herself to him.

All in.

She unclasped her bra and let it fall before shimmying out of her panties. After undoing her bun and shaking out her hair, she walked into the doorway. “Having fun?”

He slapped about two feet of tape around the edges of one gift before smacking on a lopsided bow and moving on to the next. “Not really. I don’t know why packages have to be wrapped anyway. Don’t people care about landfills and shit?” He glanced up and the tape fell out of his hand. “Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

He was on his feet and heading toward her before she could do more than laugh.

He barreled into the doorway, almost knocking her down, and scooped her up into his arms. Taking about three long steps, he flung her on to the bed and hauled off his shirt from behind his head.

“Your workouts are definitely starting to show.” She let her toes climb up over his groin and over the ripples of his stomach. His abs were a thing of glory.

He dipped back his head and took a long breath. “Just been doing crunches and some running now and then. Gotta get back in shape since I can’t hide out on the couch all day long anymore. Well, as much as you let me hide. I did more press this year than I did when I was in a functioning band.”

It was impossible to miss the undercurrent of tension in his voice. He was concerned about getting back together with his bandmates, and dammit, she didn’t want either of them stressed about anything while they were on this trip.

They were going to Happy-freaking-Acres. Happy they would be.

“No complaints here,” she said in her throatiest voice, rubbing her heel over the bulge in his jeans.

God, it was so cute to see the tips of his ears turn pink. “I’m no catwalk model,” he muttered, undoing his belt and zipper. He shoved his jeans and boxers down his legs.

“You could be, if you wanted to.”

After kicking off his boot, he paused with one socked foot in mid-air and his jeans still bunched around his ankles. “Say what?”

“You could model too. You’re not exactly ugly, Mr. Crandall.” She let her gaze wander over his body until she had to flatten her hand against the comforter to stop from squirming. Just checking him out made her wet and hot.

“Oh, man, I’m so going to nail you for even saying that. Me, a fucking model. Jesus.” His other boot went flying and he shed his jeans quicker than she could blink. In a heartbeat, he was on top of her, his hand clasped around her wrists as he drew them above her head. “Bad girl.” He nibbled her chin and down her throat. “So fucking bad.”

The guy knew the direct path to her libido, because the minute he said those words, she couldn’t help writhing beneath his long, hard body. Hard all over, every inch. She wound her legs around his hips and arched against him, needing him to fill her the way she craved. Deep, fast, inescapable. She widened her thighs and bit down on the cords of his neck, loving the groan he released against her skin. That was another kind of music, one she hadn’t heard nearly enough of lately.

Time to correct that.

“I think you need to fuck me. Now,” she panted, not caring if she sounded more than a little desperate.

With him, she could be. She
should
be.

“So pushy. I think you need to remember who’s on top and wait until I’m good and ready.” He flexed his hips against her and she went still, more than ready for his cock. If pretending to be submissive long enough to get it would work, then hell, she was in.

“You’re on top.” Here if nowhere else, at least for this moment.

“That’s better.” He tightened his grip on her wrists and moved his mouth over her cleavage, sliding lower to take her nipple between his teeth. She bit her lip at his hot, hungry suction, helpless against her little impatient rocks against his erection.

He chuckled against her flesh and gave her one of those slow, sexy looks from under the fringe of his dark lashes, his gaze traveling over her flushed breasts up to her probably equally flushed face. Then he slid down her body, his mouth following a meandering path over her belly and past her navel.

She barely noticed when the tightness eased around her wrists, thanks to the insistent flick of his tongue over her mound and lower, along her lips and inside to where she was already so saturated for him. He used both hands to push her thighs wide and took his time looking his fill while she fought that niggling urge to cover herself. That voice was way quieter than it had been a year ago, but it was still there. No matter how much she hated it.

Until his mouth covered her and made her forget anything but him.

His fingers eased inside and his tongue and teeth created the most incredible havoc on all the pleasure centers in her system. Gently, he pulled on her clit and blew a light stream of air on her heated folds while he pressed his fingers deep, then deeper still. Making room for all he was intent on giving her. Two fingers to start, then three, while his lips maintained the suction on her clit. A curl of his magic fingers and she arched, ready to fly. She wanted him to make the trip with her, because as greedy as she was, nothing was quite as amazing as those rare times that they came together.

A whimper escaped and he lifted his head, pupils dilated, chin damp with her arousal. “You want it, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low, guttural.

Now and then she still wished she could hide her face—and her urgency—from him. But he wouldn’t allow it. Even if he had, she wouldn’t have allowed it from herself.

She’d come too far to take any steps backward.

“Yes, I want it.” She met his gaze squarely, warming under the love and desire in his golden eyes. It was like being stationed directly beneath a heat lamp and basking in its glow. “I want you. Always.”

He slipped his fingers out of her and crawled up her body to fist both hands in her hair. “Right answer,” he murmured, widening her thighs and settling the heavy weight of his length between them, flush with her center. It took everything she possessed not to wiggle closer to take him inside. “Almost as much as I want you.”

His mouth came down hard on hers, his lips smeared with her taste, and his hips lifted, making her brace for what was next. That first blissful blast of pressure, opening her up—

The plane jolted, hard. Once, twice. She gasped and lifted her head, bumping into his nose. He grunted and rolled off her, looking around bewilderedly as the plane continued to shimmy and heave. “Usually the earth doesn’t move
before
I come,” he muttered as she struggled to get the covers over her naked body.

A crackle and hiss of static popped across the loudspeaker. “Just a little turbulence, folks. Sorry about that. Looks like there’s some severe storms in New York and we may have to divert to another airport.”

Nick groaned. “Can’t I fuck before I die?”

“Shh!” She laughed, shoving him in the shoulder.

“We recommend you take your seats and put on your seatbelts, just as an extra added precaution. As soon as it’s safe to walk around, we’ll let you know.”

Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a rough kiss. “You’ll fucking sit on my lap with no panties on, so I can slide in the minute he says go.”

She wanted to act affronted at his caveman tactics. The tingle and pound of her clit proved she had no such boundaries left.

He’d left them in flames many months ago.

“Maybe.” She rolled out of bed and picked up her clothes. “We’ll negotiate,” she said silkily, pulling on her top sans bra—and her skirt sans panties. “I’ll skip the underwear and next time, you’ll skip the foreplay. Just fuck me.”

“That’s what you call negotiation? Sounds like a win-win to me.” He climbed out of bed and joined her to get dressed. He pulled on his shirt then leaned closer to nibble her neck. “Think I’ll just keep my fingers inside you the whole time, just to make sure you stay warmed up for me.”

She gripped his arm as the plane bucked again. He caught hold of her hips, holding her close while she pressed her face into his neck. For a second, it wasn’t just a little bit of air disturbance. Fear wound around her throat and she couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was hold on to him and know he was holding her back.

“Let’s get to our seats,” he said against her hair. From his hushed tone, she could tell he was unnerved too, though he would never say.

He would always be strong and protect her—whether or not she needed it. Anyone who didn’t know him the way she did would’ve laughed at her assessment, but it was sterling truth. The man he was when they were alone made her longing for something more permanent between them that much more acute.

Now simply wasn’t the time to think of any of that. All that mattered was getting through the next few minutes.

He laced his fingers through hers and they made their way back to their seats, stopping every few seconds to grab hold of the wall or the back of a chair. The second she was seated, he fumbled her belt into place before he dealt with his own. While he was bent over her, she caught his face in her hands and gave him a hard kiss. “I’ve got it.”

Ignoring her, he didn’t move back until she was safely belted in. He fell back into his own seat and put on his belt with a lot less haste than he’d shown with hers.

As the plane began to jostle and jolt once again, he extended his hand across the small space that separated them. Too much. She wanted to be in his lap, her arms around his neck, his cock inside her, his leather-and-smoke scent soaking into her skin.

She wanted to marry him and have his babies and live a totally impractical life made up of sex on planes and music and laughter and arguments over Mr. Lee’s Chinese food at 3 a.m. Somehow she saw all of those possibilities in his steady golden gaze.

All of it was on the tip of her tongue, even knowing he’d dismiss her ramblings as some end-of-the-world plane crash scenario. But they weren’t. She was just finally fully admitting to herself that she was ready to leap—with no parachute and no landing gear at all except his hand gripping hers.

Instead of all that, she whispered the one thing she knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—refute. “I love you.”