laying Games (Games #2)(19)
Author: Jessica Clare

He stiffened, and then gave a small curse. "No. I don’t. But there’s a gift shop downstairs."

"I’ll wait up here, then."

He pressed another kiss to my mouth. "Be right back." He grabbed his wallet and headed out the door, leaving me alone in the room.

I studied the bed situation. They were separated by a small nightstand which boasted of an alarm clock and a lamp. I headed to it and unplugged both, then dragged the nightstand off to the opposite end of the room. Once that was done, I shoved the two beds together and considered them. Not nearly as bad, though still probably a smaller bed than would be comfortable. I didn’t suppose it mattered, I thought with a smile. It wasn’t like we were planning on doing a ton of sleeping today.

And just that thought made my face grow hot. I ran a hand along my pigtails, wondering if I should take them down. I decided against it, since Liam seemed to enjoy them. I slid my shoes off and opened my bag, considering my clothing. I didn’t have anything sexy or fun to wear. It was all race gear. Every few days, someone in production would meet us at the beginning of the race and swap out our clothing for new, fresh ones so we never had to look wrinkled or smelly on TV. Naturally, no lingerie was included. I thought about stripping out of my shorts and just remaining in my race shirt. Or a bra and panties, but the bra I had was a sports bra and looked like something designed more for a vigorous hike than making love.

After a moment more of indecision, I stripped out of everything and slid under the covers of the now-doubled bed.

Just as I did, I heard Liam return to the door. He was talking to someone, and I ducked under the covers, terrified. Oh lord, what if one of the other racers was out there and wanted to hang out? I’d die of mortification, considering Liam was likely standing out there with a box of condoms and I was in here, waiting in bed and nak*d. I strained my ears, trying to hear the conversation.

"Not right now," Liam said. Then, "No. I can do an interview later. I promise. Right now I’m just really tired." Another pause. "No. No, you can’t see what’s in the bag."

A moment later, the door shut and Liam came into view, an exasperated look on his face. "Those cameramen are really determined. I—" His voice stopped as his gaze moved to the sight of me, waiting in the bed. A smile curved his face. "Guess you didn’t change your mind."

I trailed a finger on the blanket. "Guess not. You disappointed?"

"Hell, no." Liam set the small bag down on the dresser. "But our cameraman out there thinks something’s up."

I didn’t know what to do about that. "Should we order a pizza or something? Maybe he’ll go away if we do?"

He shrugged, then pulled off his shirt. "We can order a pizza later, if you like."

The breath caught in my throat at the sight of Liam undressing. I’d seen him in his boxers before. I’d definitely seen him without a shirt. But somehow, seeing him strip down in front of the bed while I waited in it, nak*d? Really brought things home.

He pulled off his pants, and looked over at me. And paused. "You look…uncomfortable."

"This is just…" I gestured at the beds, pushed together. "Faster than I normally move."

Liam stripped down to his boxers. "If you want to take it slow, I’m fine with that." He moved away from the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed, still in his boxers. "Okay if I get under the covers with you?"

I shook my head. I didn’t mind. "You must think I’m being silly. You probably have girls throwing themselves at you all the time."

"I don’t think you’re being silly," he said, pulling back one side of the blankets and sliding under them. He slid a bit closer, but there was still a foot of space between us. "And most of those girls just want to nail anyone in the band because they’re in a band. Has nothing to do with me or what I’m like."

"And what are you really like?" I asked in a quiet voice.

He thought about this for a moment, then shrugged. "Kind of like I am on this race. I like to compete. I don’t like the limelight. I have an appreciation for smart, brave girls." He reached out and tweaked one of my pigtails. "And blonde pigtails."

"Brave girls?" I gave him a look of disbelief, clutching the blanket to my br**sts. "You’re kidding, right? Which one of us was wailing like a ninny inside of the pyramids earlier?"

"You were claustrophobic," he said easily. "Everyone has fears. You got past yours, though. Normally you’re fearless, and I like that about you. I’m willing to overlook a moment of weakness in the scheme of things." He gave me a crooked smile. "As long as we never mention that mukluk incident ever again."

I laughed, unable to help myself. "You’re the one that keeps bringing it up, not me."

"That’s because it makes you smile," he said, and his hand left my hair to brush his the backs of his fingers along my bare shoulder. "And I like seeing you smile."

Goosebumps danced along my skin and I shivered at that small touch. I moved a little closer to him in the bed, until we were facing each other, each of us propped up on an elbow. Inches separated us, but the blankets still lay between us, a barrier.

And I reached out and hesitantly brushed my hand over his pectoral, tracing the lines of the spider-web tattoo. "Can I ask you about these?"

"You can ask me about anything," he said in a low, husky voice. His eyes remained on me, as if fascinated by my touch.

"What’s the spider-web for?" My fingers moved over the lines.

He shrugged, his shaggy hair brushing against my fingers. "Was an idea I had. Kind of symbolized being caught in a web at the label and all that. When I got too frustrated with how things were going, I’d go out and get another tattoo."

And he had sleeves of them and others on his body. "You must be frustrated a lot."

Liam grinned. "Sometimes I just like the art. But sometimes, yeah. It’s the best career in the world, and the most frustrating at times."

"I think every career is like that," I told him, tracing the lines of a star on his shoulder.

"Even baking cupcakes?"

I gave him a wry look. "It sounds corny, but you haven’t made six dozen cupcakes for a client who then insists that they didn’t want them in that shade of yellow and can you have new ones ready in an hour?"

"No, I guess I haven’t experienced that," he said, and ran his fingers along my bare shoulder again.

I shivered, my n**ples hardening under the blankets.

My fingers moved to the bottom of the star and noticed there was a broken heart mixed into the lines covering his arm. "What’s this for?"

He glanced down at his arm and sighed. "No one important."

"Tesla?" I guessed.

He raised an eyebrow at me, the piercing glinting. "You know about that?"

"Saw it on your website." Got a little hurt by it, if I was being honest with myself. Of course, I couldn’t hope to compete with her. She had history with Liam, and a connection through the band that I could never duplicate. I was a small time baker. She was Tesla Spooner, hot rock chick and star of Finding Threnody.

He grunted, considering. "It was a long time ago, you know. I don’t want you to feel weird about it."

I had to laugh at that. "You don’t think this whole thing is a little weird?"

"Well, yeah." His mouth quirked. "But I don’t want you to feel weird about her and me. Ancient history. I swear."

I nodded, and decided to touch one of his piercings, instead, brushing my thumb over the ring in his lower lip. "What made you get this?"

He shrugged. "I liked it. I like piercings."

I touched the stud on his eyebrow, and then the bar across the bridge of his nose. "Did this hurt?"

"Nope."

"Which one hurt the most?"

He brushed his shaggy hair back and showed me his ear. There was a bar in the cartilage of his ear, pierced from the top to a hole in the side. Instead, he pointed to the tiny hoop at the front of his ear.

"This tiny one?" I brushed my fingers along it, smiling. "It doesn’t look like it would."

"This is called a tragus. Hurt like the f**king dickens. Even my dick piercing didn’t hurt that much."

I stilled. "You have a…um, piercing?"

He grinned again. "Told you I like piercings."

I could feel my face getting hot again. "I don’t have any."

"That’s all right," he told me, and his hand slid to my waist, resting over the blankets. "I kind of like you just how you are."

"Boring?"

"Never boring," he told me. His thumb brushed over my hip, that small movement noticeable even through the thin blankets. "Different from the usual kind of girl I run into. That’s all."

That was sweet of him to say. I didn’t know if it was true – if the tables were turned, I’d probably think I was pretty boring. But maybe Liam liked me because I was different than Tesla. Way different. My fingers brushed along his jaw, and I tilted his face toward mine.

His lips parted as I kissed him, and I felt his tongue stroke against my lower lip, felt the piercing flick against my flesh. The man did love his piercings. I kissed him back, my tongue brushing against his as we began to kiss in earnest. My fingers twined in his hair and I held him against me, kissing in a dance of tongues. Over and over, they slicked together, forming a suggestive rhythm that made the blood pound in my veins and made my h*ps start to rock with the suggestion of it.

Liam didn’t move, just let me kiss him. His hand remained anchored at my waist.

The more I kissed him, though, the more I wanted. His mouth brushed against mine, and his lips felt like that delicious, curious mixture of metal and flesh, and every time a piercing rubbed against my skin, it made a little flash of excitement roll through me. Kissing Liam wasn’t like kissing anyone else. He was considerate, and thorough, and his tongue felt amazing against my own.

And still I wanted more than kisses.

My hand slid below the blankets, to his chest, and I brushed my fingertips over his lower belly, exploring him. The blankets were starting to slide down off of my body, and I hesitated, wondering if I should pull them back up. But Liam’s gaze was locked on my face, as if suggesting that he’d move as slow as I wanted to move. He wouldn’t look if I didn’t want him to.

And I knew that even though I was in bed with a sexy, edgy rock star? I was still in control. He’d let me call the shots. If I wanted to stop, all I had to do was ask.

Of course, I didn’t want to stop.

I kissed him again, soft and sweet, no tongue. Just a coaxing of lips. By that point, I’d shifted toward him so much that I was practically hovering over his face, my hand cupped on his stomach while the other tangled in his hair. The blankets fell down to the small of my back, and I was exposed to him.

And he still wasn’t looking. I hadn’t given the signal that it was okay. So I took his hand, and pulled it onto my breast.

His gaze slid down, then, to my nak*d br**sts and exposed belly. "You’re beautiful, Katy. So beautiful." Reverently, he cupped my breast, staring at it, at the small pink peak that hardened when he brushed his thumb over it. My br**sts weren’t large – nothing about me was large, sadly – but in his hand, my breast looked like it was just the perfect size. Small, perky, uptilted.