Plan B (19 page)

“I know why you’re here and it’s killing me.” He reached up and gently stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “I want to be the one to spend your birthday with you.”

Lance wasn’t the only one in the Scarlet Romeo who felt like they were dying. I had missed him, and although I had tried my best not to think of him, I was powerless against the feelings I had for him. I knew on some level, even as I stood there mentally battling with myself between what I should do and what I wanted, that I would give in to him.

He moved his hand from my face to my waist and said, “Come dance with me?”

Although the decision had been made—I mean really, there was no choice, at least not where my heart was concerned—I still hesitated. My mouth was dry and heart pounding so hard I thought for sure he could see it beating through my chest. As the adrenaline pumped through my veins, the fight-or-flight response in full overload, I was frozen as the last of my logical side tried one last time to make my heart see reason.

“Just one dance. Please, Danny, just one,” he pleaded.

My heart roared triumphantly, beating even faster as I allowed Lance to lead me to the dance floor. My mind was weeping with what it knew was to come later; it was silenced when Lance pulled me to him and began to move to the slow, sensual rhythm that filled the club, my treacherous body melting into his.

His hands roamed along my back, almost reverently, like he was memorizing, or perhaps reacquainting himself with my form. He didn’t say anything, his head nestled against mine, and I could feel his breath, his lips as they brushed against my hair. However, I needed to understand. I hated being confused.

I pulled back so I could meet his eyes. “I don’t understand you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t understand me either.”

“Please just tell me what it is you want from me, because I gotta tell you, I’m lost here.”

“I know you planned to never see me again. I get that. Hell, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to see me again either, after the way I’ve been treating you, but….” He tipped his head back and stared upward for a moment.

Was he praying? I didn’t know enough about him to even guess if he believed in a higher being and yet, for someone I barely knew beyond the flesh, he had more power over me than any person I’d ever known.

When he looked at me once again, his smile was sad. “One last memory before you go?”

It wasn’t a statement, he was asking, and in that moment, I was prepared to give him anything.

What a fool I was.

“
Y
OUR
friends looked disappointed you were leaving, especially that big guy,” Lance said as we pulled away from the club.

Against my better judgment, I had agreed to spend the night with him. One last time he had said, and like the glutton for punishment I was, I had allowed him to lead me out of the club and usher me into his car.

“Yeah. Let’s just hope Drake isn’t the only one disappointed tonight.” I slumped in the seat.

“C’mon, Danny. You’re supposed to be having fun on your birthday. I’m going to do my damndest not to disappoint.” He gave me a sidelong glance. His smile looked way happier than I felt at that moment. “I got you a present and everything.”

Christ, I was such a drama queen. He was right, of course. I’d made my choice and it was stupid not to enjoy it. Live in the moment, have as much fun as possible, and worry about the consequences in the morning. That attitude had worked for me in the past.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“You’re just going to have to wait and see.”

“And exactly where are we going and how long is it going to take before I get my gift?”

“Not long at all,” he chuckled. “We’re here.” Lance pulled into a hotel parking lot, drove around to the back and pulled into a space close to the entrance.

“You’re renting us a room?”

“Already did. Come on,” he said and stepped out of the car.

I scrambled to get out. “You did what?”

Lance stopped at the front of the car and held out his hand. “I already rented us a room.”

I took his hand and, much to my chagrin, he entwined our fingers, and we walked hand in hand to the door. He pulled a key card from his back pocket and slid it into the reader. It turned green, and I heard the distinct sound of the lock disengaging. Holy hell, he really had gotten us a room.

“You really are a confident and cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

I followed him down the hall to room 1029 and again he used his key card.

“So what was Plan B if I’d refused?”

“Just like my career choice, there is no Plan B.” He held the door open for me. “I’d have used brute and brawn to get my way.” He winked, but I had a feeling he just might have gone all caveman had it been necessary and I might just have enjoyed it. A little.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said there was no backup plan. The room itself wasn’t anything special. The typical generic landscape pictures on the wall, ugly brown and burgundy quilted bedspread on the king-size bed, small TV, desk, lamp, the same you could find in thousands of hotel rooms across the country. It was what Lance had added to the room that made it exclusively for me.

White pillows from the bed had been set on the floor in the middle of the room, surrounded by balloons of purple, pink, and white held down by streamers of ribbon to metallic silver-wrapped boxes. A matching silver bucket cradled a bottle of champagne and two glass flutes sat next to it.

I walked farther into the room, tapping at a balloon and making it bob. I felt giddy, a huge smile on my face at the lengths he’d gone to for me. There was even more to him than I ever realized. Beneath the brawn wasn’t only a witty and caring man, but also one hell of a romantic soul.

A large vase of wildflowers and ferns sat on the bedside table with a small white card that read “Danny.” It was corny, a cliché, unoriginal, and I’d seen the same setup in numerous low-budget sappy films, but for me, it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen. “You did all this for me?” I asked. My voice cracked with emotion as I ran a finger over the delicate petals of a purple bud.

“I wanted to make it special.”

“I don’t understand you.” I repeated my sentiment from earlier, and I truly didn’t.

Lance’s warm body pressed up against my back, his strong arms encircled my waist. “Then don’t try.”

A slow fire burn began in my belly as Lance turned me around and kissed me tenderly. It was soft and gentle, the kind meant to soothe and explore, not excite. Yet, as Lance sucked languidly on my lower lip, nipping and licking at it, the heat increased. The warmth spread out through my body. My face felt flushed, and I hardened in response.

“You keep doing that and I won’t be able to think.”

“Then I’ll keep doing it.” His breath was hot and smelled like warm cinnamon from the gum he’d been chewing.

I wanted him to devour me. Wanted him to turn all that raw power loose. I knew he was holding back. Could feel it just below the surface in his shaking muscles, simmering and waiting to burst forth. I couldn’t vocalize my need, my tongue felt too thick in my mouth. I pressed closer, body vibrating and begging for more.

Lance gave a grunt in the back of his throat, as if he were responding to my plea. He fisted his hands in my hair, tilting my head to the side, and smashed our mouths together. I got a glimpse of what he had to offer in the form of teeth clacking together as he hungrily ate at my mouth, the hot, wet kiss going on and on until my knees went weak and the only thing keeping me upright was Lance’s strength.

The entire night had been a roller-coaster ride of sexual tension. The smells and sights of the club, the press of strangers, Drake’s body against mine as we danced, and the body shots had kept me in a perpetual state of arousal all evening. But it was nothing compared to the feel of Lance’s cock pressed against my granite-hard rod, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, the heat and friction so good. I could have come just from that, but I wanted more. My hands itched to touch him, to feel his hot, smooth skin. I wanted him naked.

I fumbled with his T-shirt, tugging and pulling until it came free from the waistband of his jeans. My hands instantly went to his hard chest, the lightly furred flesh sweaty and damp beneath my fingers. I rubbed my thumb over one small nub, flicking it back and forth till it was hard, then pinched it lightly, pulling a deep rumbling moan from Lance I felt vibrate on my tongue. I know I have described the sound that comes out of Lance as a deep rumble before, but it is the only description I can think of to use. It’s like the purr of a giant cat: it starts low in his belly and moves upward, the sound growing in strength. It’s not only audible but physical. You can feel it… well, rumbling much as the ground vibrates during a loud explosion, not necessarily in volume but definitely in intensity. It’s not a roar when it escapes his lips, but a toe-curling sound that is full of passion and makes me weak. I’ve come to associate the sound with Lance and what I can do to him. It’s oh-so-very sexy.

I gave the other nipple the same treatment until it, too, was erect. I jerked back from the kiss, grabbed the soft cotton of his shirt, shoved it upward with both hands, and sucked his right nipple into my mouth. I hummed as I sucked, teased, and tasted the salty flavor of his skin.

Lance groaned, his back arching, and the hand in my hair tightened, no longer pulling and tugging but pressing my mouth harder against him. Lance cried out when I scraped my teeth over the hard nub and bit down slightly. I started to kiss my way down his body, the soft hairs ticklish against my lips, one hand releasing his shirt and going to the button of his jeans.

“Wait.” Lance stopped my movements, pressing his hand over mine.

I looked up to see his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted for breath. I tried to pull my hand free, but he refused to let me go. I had the distinct feeling he was trying to get his arousal under control, the grip in my hair once again tugging, keeping my mouth away from his skin.

After a few more deep breaths, he began to chuckle. “Damn, that was close.”

“I thought that was the goal?” I pushed out my bottom lip and pouted.

“Presents first.”

I arched a brow at him. “I was trying to unwrap my gift and you stopped me.”

I was still pouting when he laughed, pulled me upright and kissed my protruding bottom lip. “God, that’s a powerful tool.”

“So I get my way?”

I reached for his button again but he lightly slapped my hand away. “Yes, but the other presents first.”

“Not powerful enough,” I grumbled under my breath.

Lance heard it and only laughed harder, and then pushed me back until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. “You can be such a spoiled brat, you do know that, right?” he asked and handed me a brightly colored wrapped box he’d retrieved from the dresser.

“One of my best attributes,” I teased and accepted the gift. It was heavy and I shook it, but nothing rattled around.

“Definitely a brat.” Lance sat next to me and bumped me with his shoulder. “Just open it.”

I tore the paper away; it was a gift box of oils, lotions, and powder. Nice, but not as nice as the package I was really craving. “Thanks.”

“It’s not what you think, honest. I got it in the men’s department,” he said quickly, his cheeks turning pink. “And it’s only part of the gift. Take your clothes off and lie on the bed.” He took the box and stood.

I ripped open my shirt. “Now you’re talking!”

L
ANCE
removed the bottle of oil from the box, snapped the top open, pouring a generous amount into his palm. His eyes heavy on me as I dropped my shirt and pulled the belt free from my jeans made my skin tingle with excitement. He rubbed his big hands together, warming the oil. I couldn’t wait to feel them against my flesh and quickly shoved my jeans down, stepping out of them and kicking them away.

I hesitated, thumbs hooked in the waistband of the black boy shorts. I was hard, my erection bulging beneath the cotton material, but held against my body. Suddenly I felt unsure. Would removing them strip away the last of the fantasy? I had never been completely naked in front of Lance. Would seeing me completely bare and on display for him turn him off? Would it be too much for him to handle?

Lance stepped closer, brushed his lips against mine, and as if he had been reading my thoughts, said, “I promise you, Danny,
all
of you is part of my fantasy.”

I sucked in a breath, held it, shoved the shorts down, and added them to the pile of my other discarded clothes. Lance took a step back and it was as if time stood still, while his eyes wandered down my body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “I want to touch you, all of you.”

I let out the breath and tried not to hyperventilate, his words sending my pulse soaring. It felt like my heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. On shaky legs, I crawled into the middle of the bed and lay on my stomach, the soft cotton cool against my heated flesh. I was still feeling too vulnerable and unsure to lie fully exposed.