Chapter 5
Sully’s wearing black sweatpants and a white tee that clings to his broad chest, hinting at the sculpted physique underneath without quite hiding it.
I’ve seen photos of him without a shirt, and it’s marvelous.
There’s a recent cologne ad where his abs glisten and appear hard and perfect like he’s a Greek god statue come to life.
I shouldn’t be ogling him in the privacy of his hotel room. He’s not a piece of meat, but damn, he’s so much sexier in this light. Only the two lamps on either side of the bed are on. Their glow is a halo of yellow light. And my mind can’t stop wishing he’d peel that damn shirt off.
He pads over to the dresser barefoot and grabs a bottle of whiskey.
Why am I still standing two feet away from the door gaping at him as if I’ve never seen a handsome man before?
I force my eyes to inspect the small polka-dotted pattern in the carpet and shuffle toward Sully.
But it also means I move closer to the bed, and alarms scream inside my head, ringing louder than my pounding heartbeat.
Now I can worry about being this close to a king-sized bed and Sully.
“Do you want a drink?” His smooth-as-butter voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He lifts the whiskey bottle. “You drink, right?”
“Yeah…Sure,” I say quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed, an overwhelming urge to get up and run pulsing through me.
He pours the amber liquid into two tumblers and grabs them before sitting beside me.
The bed dips under his weight and forces me to lean closer to him.
His warm thigh touches mine and it sends my heart into overdrive as something flips inside my chest. Suddenly I’m transformed into a shy high school girl when her crush asks her to prom and she’s nothing but nervous smiles and millions of butterflies in her stomach.
I’m giddy and scared out of my skull. What a silly feeling this is.
My palms are clammy and I keep wiping them on my pants in the hopes he won’t notice.
“Are you okay, Schatz?” he asks in his deep, seductive accent. The word hits me like a jolt—Schatz, the German term for “sweetheart,” something I remember from high school classes—and my already racing heart stumbles. Is he trying to drive me insane?
“Mmm-hmm,” I answer, not trusting my voice. He offers me a glass. I accept it, taking a swig.
Please let my liquid courage be swift so I don’t have an anxiety attack.
Truth be told I haven’t been this close to a man since my ex.
He’d be romantic one night and cold as a dead fish the next.
I never knew what mood he’d be in or if it was me.
If I was sexy enough. But before I could figure it out, “the incident” happened, and he left me alone to gather the pieces of my shattered ego.
Sully sips his drink and then rests the glass on his knee. “You don’t seem okay. Are you—”
“Nervous?” I say in a rush, running the tip of my finger over my glass’s rim. “No…Yes…I’m sorry.”
He stands and leans against the dresser. “I don’t want to scare you. What can I do?”
“Not sure.” I twirl the liquor in my glass. “I broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago. It was messy and it’s been hanging over me since.”
“Understood. Relationships know how to fuck us up, don’t they?” He makes a deep raspy sound like a sorrowful laugh. “The pain helps me write songs. How do you use the pain?”
“I toss myself into work to avoid how it makes me feel.”
Why do I feel like I can be honest with him? It’s as if his gaze sees straight through me, unraveling something deep inside, and before I know it, the words spill out.
“We can talk if you want or watch something. The remote’s somewhere.” He moves a pile of folded shirts and looks underneath them then starts opening drawers.
“You don’t need to find it. I could—”
A knock on the door keeps me from rambling on. “Hold that thought,” Sully says, rushing away to open the door.
Chills bite into my flesh. I ache to be close—feel his warmth beside me, his pulse beneath my fingertips, and the softness of his cupid’s bow lips on mine. But the fear of rejection and abandonment wraps around me like chains, holding me back, keeping me trapped in this cage of doubt.
Sully greets a man wearing a hotel uniform and allows him to enter the room. He’s pushing a cart with an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne and something covered by a silver lid.
“Thank you,” Sully tells the room service man, handing him a tip. The man nods and leaves without looking in my direction.
“Maybe I should go and let you eat.” I hop off the bed and set my glass on the dresser. “It’s late and I—”
Sully pulls the lid off, revealing a bowl of fresh strawberries, and my next words die on my lips.
He lifts a fat strawberry between his pointer finger and thumb, inspects it, and sets it back down. “I saw this in a movie once and thought it would be nice to order in real life.” He laughs at himself, replacing the lid. “But maybe it’s not as—”
“Romantic?” I chuckle, tugging on my earring. “I always wanted to feel like I was in a rom-com. Just for one night.”
“Will you please stay, Engel?” He grabs the flutes by the champagne bucket and offers me one.
I want to, but I should leave before putting my foot in my mouth, and he forever remembers me as the strange fan in LA who was too on edge to hang out in his fancy hotel room.
But he keeps calling me such lovely words in German. I want to hear him say my name over and over in his accent.
My hand shoots forward, deciding for me. “Yes. I’ll stay.” I nod toward the cart. “You can’t eat all those strawberries by yourself. You’ll get a stomach ache.”
A stomach ache? Really? I sound like his damn mother. He’s going to throw me out. I should toss myself off the balcony for that line.
He chuckles and sits on the bed. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
The tips of my ears burn. “There’s not much to know about me.”
“A beautiful woman like you? I’m sure you have stories.” He motions toward the chair near the desk, offering me another place to sit.
If I take the chair, that’s it. All the heat will fizzle out and I’ll spend the night with a hot rock star talking like I’m interviewing him for a blog.
Or I could swallow my fears and forget my past discretions.
Why should I be haunted by “the incident” when my ex isn’t? He’s who ruined everything, not me.
“What else can we do besides talk?” I sip my champagne and sit beside him on the side of the bed. His arm gently slides around my waist. Gravity tips me closer to his chest, and suddenly I’m engulfed by his delectable essence of mint and aftershave.
I’m never washing these clothes again. Maybe I could find a way to bottle his scent.
His eyes sparkle in the dim light cast by the lamps. “Veronica, there are so many things I…er…we could do.” His words rumble in his chest. He caresses my cheek and touches my amethyst stud earring, admiring it.
Between my thighs buzzes. I want his hands to caress me everywhere. I want his mouth on me, tasting me…
His fingers trace my jawbone and his thumb gently tugs on my bottom lip. “But I’m following your lead.”
My lead? No man has ever cared about what I wanted. Just as long as he was satisfied, that’s all that mattered.
Releasing a shaky breath, I finish the rest of my drink. “I’m not sure what I’m doing…” I admit, pressing a hand to my face, hiding my scarlet cheeks. “I’m not a groupie or anything. I just—”
“Let’s go slow and tell me when to stop, Schatz.” There’s that word again, making my heart flip-flop.
Sully stands and pulls the cart with the bowl of strawberries and champagne closer to us. I can’t help but notice how his shirt clings to the muscles of his biceps and chest, and the proximity of him makes a tight, nervous flutter stir deep in my belly.
He picks up a strawberry and lifts it in the air, hitting the strawberry I grabbed with his. “Prost!”
“Cheers,” I reply, biting into the sweet fruit.
My breath catches in my throat as Sully bites into the strawberry and red juice drips down his chin.
Without hesitating, I wipe it from his mouth before it falls onto the snow-white sheets.
“Sorry,” I mumble, curling my fingers into my palm and wishing I could bury my head into the mattress and hide.
His steely blue eyes wash over me as a smile tugs on his lips. “Don’t be.”
We sip our drinks and eat a couple more strawberries in silence.
When I finish my drink, I reach for the bottle, but Sully beats me to it. He fills my glass, but his eyes never leave mine.
The bubbles must be going straight to my head because why would he be this interested in someone like me?
What do I have to offer? What’s so special about me compared to all the other girls standing in the front row screaming while he played on stage?
To all those fans who stood hours behind the venue for a chance to meet him.
Sully gathers another strawberry and offers to feed it to me.
I’m about to protest, but he places the tip of the fruit on my lower lip, gently pushing it forward.
My mouth opens, and I bite into it as juice runs down my throat.
He leans closer, kissing my neck and licking the strawberry juice from my skin.
How am I not a melted puddle on the floor yet? The way his eyes watch me is like he can’t get enough. His tongue on my skin is like warm honey. It’s intense and so damn hot.
A moan claws its way out of my chest. It sounds nothing like me. Almost primal.
His nose traces my jawline until his lips meet mine. Holy shit. I’m struck by lightning. My hands dive into his thick black mane of hair and gently tug. Our glasses smash into each other and he sweeps them onto the floor.
My body isn’t under my control; it moves by strings, and Sully is the puppet master.
I’d do anything if he whispered Schatz into my ear right now.