Gifted (Rockstar Christmas Romance) (Lost in Oblivion, 4.2) (5 page)

Lila was framed perfectly in his shot, as cool as an icicle in a fuzzy blue sweater and white pants.

And he nearly dropped his damn phone.

She’d pinned her hair up in some kind of twisty thing that left a few curls dangling to her shoulders and she wore little makeup. Not that she ever went heavy with the stuff, but now he could see freckles dusting her cheeks, and her unpainted mouth looked as soft and pink as a candy cane that had already been sucked on.

God, he wanted to lick her from her mouth to her toes, then start all over again.

“Look who else arrived for our celebration,” he said hoarsely, hoping like hell he wasn’t giving himself away. He was so grateful she’d showed it was a freaking miracle he hadn’t tossed his phone aside and rushed forward to haul her into his arms. “Lila Shawcross, our esteemed rep from Ripper Records. Say hello to twenty million of our best friends.”

She slid into PR mode effortlessly. “Hello, Oblivion family.” Her voice was butter-smooth, and she smiled as if she didn’t have a single care. But her eyes were troubled, and the shadows beneath them too dark. Had she not been sleeping? That stupid VIP concert had taken a toll on more than just the band and their personal relationship with each other. It appeared to have caused damage to Lila too.

He didn’t know if he wanted to fuck her brainless or tuck her into his bed and watch over her to make sure she got some rest.

Actually, yes, he did know. He wanted
both
of those things. He wanted to be by her side tonight and all the nights that came after, and to walk in the daylight with her without fear of who might see. He didn’t want to fucking hide, not when he’d never felt like this before.

And that wouldn’t—couldn’t—happen.

So he wouldn’t press. Wouldn’t demand more than she was ready to give. They would have tonight and tomorrow morning, and if that was all they could have, he would try to accept it. Maybe one day he might even understand.

Though he seriously fucking doubted it.

“So there you have it, Oblivionites, we’re about to all chow down on some serious turkey and rock out with our cocks out.” In his case, he hoped that was a literal translation. “Happy holidays to all of you, and thank you for supporting us this year. You’re the rhythm that keeps us going. Rock on.” He uploaded the clip, tossed his phone on the island, then pointed at the mistletoe above Lila’s head. He didn’t know where it had come from, and he didn’t much care. It served his purposes all too well.

“Well, look at that. Can’t break with holiday tradition, can we?” he asked, already advancing on Lila.

She took a step back. “Nicholas—”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he murmured, not stopping until their toes bumped. Bare feet for him and white ankle boots for her, slouchy leather things that probably cost a mint. “Let’s eat, drink and be merry.”

She cast a look up at the mistletoe before giving him a jerky nod. “Just a quick one.”

He nodded and gripped her elbows, drawing her up to her toes so his mouth hovered over hers, barely a breath apart. He stared into her bluer-than-blue eyes, recording their exact shade in his mind, before slicking his tongue along the seam of her lips. She trembled and he curled his fingers around her arms, pulling her against him as he dove in deep.

There was no taking his time, no patience and no being careful. His mouth raced over hers and one hand skated up her back to grip her head. His fingers jabbed through her updo, loosening pins and curls, and he explored her as thoroughly as if he’d never kissed her before.

Because he hadn’t. Not like this. He’d had her and lost her and had somehow gotten her back again for one shining, perfect moment.

He was scarcely aware of turning her toward the island and pressing her back to it, of reaching down to pull her hips sharply into his own. The feel of her warm softness closing around the steel of his cock through his jeans tore a groan from his throat and she absorbed it, curling her tongue around his, her kiss every bit as hungry. She clutched his shirt and dragged him even closer, rising up to grind her breasts into his chest. This time she was the one who made a sound, though he wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure or pain. Perhaps both. And relief. Sheer, fucking relief that neither of them had to go without for one more second.

Then he heard the clapping.

Eyes still closed, he drew back and hauled in a breath. Lila’s mumbled, “oh shit,” made him finally turn his head and open his eyes.

Although he wished he hadn’t.

His entire band was clustered in the doorway, and they were all laughing or pumping their fists or in the case of Jazz, giggling and clapping.

“Now
that’s
how you kiss under the mistletoe,” Simon said to Margo, whipping out a sprig to hold over her head. “I intend to invoke this often, by the way.”

Right after Simon and Margo started their so-not-innocent peck, Gray decided to go for it as well. He tugged on Jazz’s arm, and she leaped onto his hips before he spun her into a laughing kiss under the actual mistletoe.

That left Deacon to approach Harper, who brandished her long-handled fork to hold him off. “Uh uh, mister, I’m not into public displays—” Then she grinned and tossed down her fork. “Who am I kidding? I so am.”

“Cop car,” Nick reminded her over his shoulder. She scowled before Deacon hoisted her right off her feet and into his arms. Then she wasn’t scowling anymore.

Nick glanced at Lila, who was watching the display around her with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “Ready for some turkey?” He slipped a hand in her back pocket and spoke softly against her cheek. “Unless you’re in the mood for something else…”

L
ila wasn’t
in the mood for something else.

Liar, liar
. She so was.

For a week and a half, she’d been walking around in a perpetual state of pain, anger and misery. If what had happened that night with the band wasn’t bad enough, the aftermath and what she’d learned about Nick had nearly broken her. She’d expected the other shoe to drop with her soon-to-be ex-husband, as well as her boss, Donovan Lewis, the head of Ripper Records. But everything had been quiet after the pictures she’d received that had torn apart her life.

Too quiet.

Something was coming, she could feel it.

Not tonight though. She wouldn’t allow anything to detract from this celebration. From the moment she’d walked into the band house, the energy had almost bowled her over. Happy, excited energy. The babies were babbling, and all the couples were laughing and kissing and there were Christmas lights everywhere…

Christmas lights. And Christmas packages. Dammit, she’d left hers in the car. She’d been so nervous about attending tonight, knowing she and Nick were on the outs, and uncertain about facing everyone else’s joy. But just this once, she wanted to belong.

Needed it more than she could worry about rejection or what she might be kidding herself about now. Like, oh, that a gorgeous, obnoxious, sweet, sexy-as-hell rock star could want her in spite of all the obstacles that made everything between them so difficult.

“I have to go back to my car.” She licked her kiss-swollen lips and shifted uncomfortably at the pulse between her thighs. That pulse might as well have been labeled Nick-freaking-Crandall, because he was the only one who caused it so effortlessly.

“Escaping already?” Nick’s tone was light, but the fingers he clamped around her elbow were anything but.

“I forgot gifts. I mean, I have them, but I forgot to bring them in.”

“I’ll come with you.” His hold only tightened. “We’ll be right back,” he told the others.

“Yeah, and I have to call that Santa dude. He left a message on my cell.” Deacon planted another kiss on his wife’s head and stepped back.

“What Santa dude?” Nick asked.

Gray set down Jazz and frowned at Deacon. “Dammit, really? He better not be pulling out.”

“Yeah, pulling out is something that is just not done in this house. Evidence A, all the screamers down the hall.” Nick smirked and tugged on Lila’s arm.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Harper warned. “Y’all better be seated around my table when I serve or I’ll pull out a can of rock star whoop ass.”

Lila smiled at Harper. She was her kind of woman. Didn’t put up with any nonsense and herded the lot of them in the way they seemed to need.

Of course, she also had a handsome husband, a successful catering business and an adorable kid, so she’d obviously pulled some winning numbers in the life lotto.

Unlike you
.

Let’s see, her husband was a serial philanderer and had been for years. They’d slept separately for half a decade, which consisted of most of their marriage. She also was on the verge of divorce—the one thing she was overjoyed about, actually—and had an incredible career managing the drama-prone members of Oblivion and the other bands she worked with. But those pictures had thrown both of those things into jeopardy and—

And I’m not thinking about any of that tonight, remember?

She blew out a breath and focused on Nick. He’d stopped to pull on his sneakers, then he’d resumed practically dragging her out the door and across the stoop.

Oh Nick. He was in a category of his own.

She’d never expected to fall into bed with him after Oblivion’s disastrous show at the Blue Rhino a month ago. Barely a month. Yet she had, and for a couple of weeks, it had been intense and insane and wonderful. He’d even gone home with her to meet her parents at their apple orchard in New York, for God’s sake. Not only had he gone, he’d wanted to go.

Forget
wanted
. He’d insisted. The trip had been the best one of her life.

“You’re never this quiet unless you’re about to come.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts right quick. “I’m definitely not quiet then,” she said, quickening her steps to match his. Not that it made much difference, since he didn’t relinquish his iron grip.

“No, but I knew saying that would make you talk to me.”

She fought not to smile and almost succeeded. “I wasn’t
not
talking to you.”

“So you say. Where the hell are you parked?”

She pointed down the block and he slipped his hand down her arm until their fingers tangled together. Immediately, she glanced around for cameramen hanging out of trees or other possible members of the paparazzi. Oblivion had been getting way too much attention lately—a lot of it negative—and she wasn’t about to add to it right now.

“No one’s around,” he said quietly, and something about his tone made her feel ashamed. As if she was a burden on him, when she’d never asked for any of this.

This whole situation was so ridiculous, but she was the one with the power to change it. At least for one blessed day.

And night.

“Why are you holding my hand?” Her voice was equally quiet as they walked up the street. Strolling now. Like any other couple, except they weren’t.

“Because I haven’t had the chance in ten days and it feels wrong.” He came to a stop and turned her toward him, lifting a hand to her probably thoroughly fucked-up hair. He swept aside a few loose curls, his gaze searching her face. “I don’t know what happened the night of the concert. Why you shut me out when we’d been so close. But I don’t care.”

She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse. He clearly still wanted to have sex with her, so he must just see her as a booty call. In spite of everything she thought she’d glimpsed in his eyes in those unforgettable two weeks, all that she’d felt in his touch, he must be in it just for the orgasms. He obviously liked the sex enough to deal with the crazy that was her life.

“You don’t care,” she repeated, hoping his admission would stomp out her feelings for him once and for all.

“No. Because if the choice is not having you at all or just having you for tonight—well, I choose tonight.” He cupped her cheeks then let his hands drop and shoved them into his pockets. “It’s Christmas. Just one night. Doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

She found herself nodding before her usual sense kicked in. She didn’t want to be sensible right now. Where had being responsible and practical ever gotten her?

Alone on major holidays, unless she traveled back east to be with her parents, that’s where.

But Nick was here. Right in front of her, his golden gaze colliding with hers, his guitarist’s hands flexing so hard in his pockets that she could see the denim bunching around his knuckles. He stretched out his fingers a lot, because he couldn’t bear to be still.

She was taking forever to answer him. A nod wasn’t enough. She needed words.

“One night is all I can give.” She swallowed hard. “Even that’s too much.”

He might be playing a game with her, and in the current state of flux her life was in, she couldn’t deal. Those pictures…

They don’t matter. It’s only one night. One Christmas.
With him, with the band.

For once, you won’t be alone.

“I understand.” His jaw worked and his stupidly thick dark lashes came down to block his eyes before the veil lifted. “Fuck, I’ll pretend to understand. All I know is when we came back from New York, you were mine.” When she glanced away, he let out a string of low curses.
Fuck
was one of his favorite words, in all its variations. “Okay, not mine, not for real. I know the score. But Christ, Li, we were something. Weren’t we?”

Even when he said he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t press, that he understood why she couldn’t give anything else, he always asked questions. Always nudged her for more. And she’d cracked like a fortune cookie, spilling right into his hands. Again and again.

Here she was, doing it once more. But it would be on her terms now.

“One night,” she said softly. “When the dawn comes, I’m going. You won’t stop me.”

He tipped back his head and nodded, saying nothing. He’d meet her terms even if he didn’t like them. They both knew what he’d get out of this scenario—her body, in any way he wanted to take it.

In return, she’d take him right back.

They started walking again. Once they reached her car, she popped the trunk and started to withdraw the large bag of gifts. She’d gone a bit overboard, especially for the babies. When surrounded by aisles and aisles of soft and cuddly items at the store, she’d given in to the urge to spoil Lexi and Dylan. Who could resist?

Not her. She’d probably be forever in the “sort of aunt” role to friends’ children, since she didn’t have any actual siblings. She also didn’t have kids of her own. Probably never would either. Best to relish her new role as an almost aunt to the band’s babies.

“What do you have in here? Rocks?” Nick snatched the big bag from her hands, then went back to pick up one of the smaller ones too. Lots of smaller gift bags were nestled inside. But she grabbed Nick’s gift before he could, holding the large, foil-wrapped box to her chest. “Ah, a secret one,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Not secret. Just figure you’re the type to shake boxes.”

“Me? No way.” He hoisted her parcels and shut the trunk, then lifted an eyebrow at how she was cradling the box. “Though I gotta say, your protectiveness over it is making me wonder. Who’s that for?”

“It’s for you, of course.”

“Oh.” His smile grew, then wavered, almost disappearing. “I figured after the last week or so, you wouldn’t be buying me much.”

After
. Such a painful, lonely word. “One thing I had before. The other is new.”

“Two things. Hmm. I only have one for you.”

She couldn’t imagine what Nick had gotten her. He’d claimed to be buying her gift at the jewelry store earlier, but that didn’t seem like him. He had oddly romantic moments, such as when he’d made love to her in the so-called honeymoon suite at her parents’ apple orchard back in New York. But essentially that had been about sex, no matter what fancy phrase he tacked on top of it.

At a jewelry store, especially a high-end one, he’d probably go for the simple. Something quick and easy. Maybe a pair of diamond stud earrings. Certainly nothing with any significance, because they weren’t in a true relationship. They’d been together for a short time, but only behind closed doors for the most part.

Nothing thrived in secrecy. Not for long. Nothing that was meant to last anyway.

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” she said, slipping her keys into her purse and tucking her hand in her pocket before he tried to hold it again.

She hated that she liked him touching her so much. Every part of her yearned to be close to him. Even walking beside him back to the house was a kind of torture. Wanting something—someone—so much and not being able to have him was the worst kind of pain. And she’d known many different varieties.

He’d been like a revelation after so many years without being held. Without wanting sex or to be with a man. Now she craved him so much she didn’t know how she would ever stop.

“You know, when you say the word lovely like that, I have the feeling you think I bought you some cubic zirconias or something.”

He surprised a laugh out of her. “No, I would never think that.”

“Just something you wouldn’t want then. Because I don’t know you well enough to get you a present befitting you.” At the end of the walkway to the front stoop of the band house, he turned. “I know more than you think, Lila Lee Ronson.”

She startled at his usage of her middle name—and her maiden name. “Who told you about Lee?”

“Your mother.” He leaned in close to murmur near her ear, “I think she likes me. Imagine that.”

Before she let slip how true of a statement that was, considering one of the gifts in Nick’s box, he pivoted away and strode up the walk to the front door. He kicked it open, and the laughter and music inside spilled out to envelop her on the walkway. Happiness trailed out to her, the warmth and good smells of dinner cooking all combining to crook a seductive finger in her direction. It was an invitation she couldn’t resist.

Come inside, and discover what it’s like to belong. Be part of them, for just one day.

In the doorway, he glanced back, framed by the lit garland someone had hung around the door. And he was the most inviting part of them all.

“What are you waiting for?” That edge of impatience in his voice and the deadly quirk of his lips nearly did her in. “Fucking turkey’s almost done.”

She laughed and followed.

Two hours later, their incredible dinner of turkey and stuffing and all the fixings had been consumed, and she’d taken dish duty because it was only fair Harper get to rest. Jazz too, since she’d taken over baby-shepherding duties for Harper as well during the meal. Lila waved off Margo’s offers to help—and Gray and Deak’s too—because well, the truth was, she should be doing this. She was the one who didn’t have a true place here. She’d been given a tourist’s pass to the band’s Christmas and—

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Lila glanced up from the plate she was washing by hand and immediately shifted her gaze away from Nick’s way too intense stare.

Leave it to him to zero in on the heart of the matter. Every matter, every time.

And her heart? Practically flopped into his hands every time he stalked past. Which was just ridiculous.

They’d had a brief affair. She was his manager.

And he was watching her so intently that the side of her face was about to go up in flames.

“It’s not a have to, it’s a want to,” she said quietly, trading her pink scrubbie—likely Jazz’s choice—for a short brush. “I like being useful. Besides, doing dishes gives me time to think.”

“How many dishes have these hands done in their lifetime?” He tugged her hand out of the bubbles and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.

“Enough.” She pulled her hand back and frowned at the vibration in her fingertips just from the calloused pads of his fingers touching hers. “You saw where I grew up. I wasn’t born some pampered princess.”