Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lily
Bloody Valentine
(Acoustic Version)
Machine Gun Kelly
Who am I? And what in the hell did I just do?
I stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, my cheeks flushed from the pounding I just got in my hallway.
I don’t do shit like this!
I splash some cold water over my face, then dab it dry.
I walk into my adjoining bedroom and snag a fresh pair of panties from the top drawer of my dresser.
I pull them on over my sneakers and under the skirt of my dress.
My third pair in less than twelve hours.
At this rate, my underwear drawer will need a restock and my self-control definitely needs some reigning in.
Maybe I should back out of this day with Luc before things get even crazier. I mean, who am I kidding? This guy is a bonafide rockstar and if I think I am even close to being in the same league with him, I might as well also believe he’s going to even remember my name in a month.
I do not live in a fantasy land. I’m a sensible girl and make sensible decisions. Until today apparently.
Shit.
Should I call Bri and get her advice? I didn’t tell her about this earlier because I knew exactly what her reaction would be. I didn’t want to deal with that, but now I’m second guessing every decision I’m making.
There’s a soft knock at the bathroom door. I grit my teeth, walk over and lean against it letting out a long sigh.
“I can hear you over thinking in there.” He states softly. “Are you okay?”
I push back off the door, shake my head toward the sky then yank the door open. He’s standing there, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, those whiskey eyes locking onto mine in question.
“Is this a normal thing for you?” I blurt out.
His brow shoots up, one hand escaping his pocket to rake through his hair as he chuckles. “Which part?”
“Oh my God.” I sputter, forcing myself around him as I plow back out to the living room where I don’t feel so claustrophobic.
“Hey.” A light grip surrounds my forearm to spin me around, his free hand wrapping around my other arm to hold me in place. “You freaking out?”
I nod frantically; my eyes wide. “Uh-huh.”
“Stop.” He releases one arm and raises that hand to my face to caress my cheek. “Take a breath.”
I draw in a deep inhale through my nose, my chest expanding, then release it slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.
“I’m just a guy. And I met a girl I actually want to spend some time with.” His thumb sweeps over the skin on my face. “That’s it. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“But-” I start to protest, which he promptly stops by covering my mouth with his. He breaks away after a few seconds.
“No buts.” He surprises me by sliding his arms around me, enveloping me in a hug. “Stop overthinking this. Let’s just go.”
I lift my arms from my side to wrap them around his back. My head rests against his chest where I can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat. It calms me. Reassures me. It’s slow and steady, not the slightest bit erratic.
I loosen my hold to step back from him, his forearms adjusting so they’re resting atop my shoulders. I raise my head until my eyes meet his.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask sheepishly.
“I could eat.” He suggests on a shrug.
I think about this for a minute, an idea springing to mind. “Are you hungry or starving?”
“Hungry.”
“Okay, I know a place.” I offer a small smile. “I think it’ll be perfect. It’s quiet and out of the way so hopefully no one will know who you are.”
“Sounds great.” He steps back and slides his phone out of his pocket. “Want me to call us an Uber?”
“I can drive.” I assure him, walking to the hook where my keys are hanging. “Let me just grab my purse.”
“You sure you don’t mind driving?” He strides over to the couch, swiping his ball cap to pull it onto his head, the bill facing backwards. Jesus Christ that’s hot. “I can always call one of my drivers.”
I pause, my brow rising in disbelief. “What happened to you’re just a guy? A regular guy.”
“Got it.” He back pedals. “No car. You drive.”
“Much better.” I roll my eyes, smiling. “It takes about forty-five minutes to get there, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“I call DJ.” He blurts, a wicked grin lighting up his face. “I’m going to get you to like at least one of my songs before the end of the day.”
“Good luck.” I chuckle, but more than happy to let him try.
I don’t dislike rock music, or any other kind of music for that matter. I just prefer country. I love the song writing, the stories most of them contain.
I lead him out the door, making sure it’s locked behind me, and then head in the direction of my car. I click the button on the remote to unlock the doors, a loud chuff of laughter sounding next to me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I cock my head, not understanding his reaction. “What?”
“This?” He points to my car. “This is your car? A fucking Hellcat?” He shakes his head, chuckling again. “You are full of surprises, Kitten.”
“It was my dad’s. I always loved it.” I open the driver’s side door to slide in, as he does the same on the passenger side. “He passed away a few years ago and my mom gave it to me. She said having it in the driveway reminded her too much of him.”
“Shit.” He frowns. “I’m sorry about your dad. What happened?”
“Nope.” I insert the key to start the engine before I reply, the sweet hum of the engine making me smile. “Too personal. Breaks rule number one.”
“Fair enough.” He cocks his head. “Do I get to know where you’re bringing me?”
I put the car in reverse and back out of my parking space, then steer out of the complex towards the highway. “A place called Canyon Restaurant. It’s up on Mt. Charleston, a little bit outside of town. It’s gorgeous up there. You won’t even believe you’re in Vegas anymore.”
“That sounds perfect.” He grins broadly, sliding his sunglasses on. “By the way, that dress is gorgeous on you.”
I start to chew on my bottom lip in an attempt to hide my smile, but stop short, letting the corners of my mouth lift instead, my insides warming at his compliment. “Thank you.”
“So, let’s see what I can teach you about music in the next half-hour.” He presses a few buttons on the screen centered in the dash until he finds the Bluetooth settings.
A second later his phone is out and he’s pairing it to the car. He turns his head, a wide grin lifting his cheeks. “You ready?”
“Hit me with your best shot.” I gun the engine as we turn onto the 11, traffic finally breaking up.
He hits the play button and a moment later chords of a guitar strum gently, a gravelly voice sounding over the speakers a second later. The melody is slow, the lyrics actually clear.
I listen, absorbing the message of the song. My pulse quickening when I translate it’s about a guy who seems to have fallen for a girl who was supposed to be anything but a permanent stain on his heart.
I sneak a peek at Luc, only to find him staring intently in my direction, I’m sure to gauge my reaction. He remains silent until the song finishes.
“It’s called Bloody Valentine.” He volunteers as he glances down at his phone. “There’s a faster version, but I like the acoustic one better.”
“I like it.” I confess, but of course have to throw in some resistance. “It’s not exactly what I would classify as a rock song.”
“Yeah, but it’s one of my favorites, so I wanted to play it for you.” He clears his throat, staring out the windshield a minute. “It’s pretty out here.”
“Wait until we get to the top of the mountain.” I nod at the stereo. “What else you got for me?”
“Here’s one that’s definitely rock.” He scrolls on his phone a second, a guitar riff, accompanied by some heavy drums exploding over the speakers. He turns it up – loud - and begins to sing along to the words when they start.
I realize immediately it’s one of his, and witnessing the pride and passion he exudes as he bellows out the song is breathtaking.
My fingers start tapping of their own accord on the steering wheel, his energy infectious as his head bobs along to the rhythm.
As the last note fades, he shoots me a look, the corners of his mouth curving up like he already knows he’s won me over. That grin? It was all confidence, the kind that has my stomach doing flip-flops.
“All right, all right.” I concede, unable to contain the smile blooming on my own face. “That wasn’t half bad.”
And I mean, come on, any guy that has a voice like that is going to make any girl’s panties combust.
He throws his arms up, calling out a whoop, declaring himself a winner. My cheeks lift even higher. He can totally have this victory. He earned it.
“When did you know you wanted to be a singer?” I ask, curious about how he got his start.
“I don’t know.” His brow scrunches up in thought. “Maybe when I was five or six. My mom jokes that I sang before I could talk.”
“Do you play any instruments?”
He shrugs. “Guitar, piano, drums, and I can pluck away on a bass if I need to.” He stops, glancing over at me. “Are you okay if I roll the window down a bit?”
“Absolutely.” I nod, pushing down the button on my door to lower mine halfway as he does the same.
“I write most of my songs using a piano, then convert the music into a melody on an acoustic guitar for the guys.” He shrugs. “Enough about me. What do you do when you aren’t sneaking into random guy’s rooms at parties?”
A smirk decorates his face, and even though his eyes are covered by his sunglasses, I’m sure they’re sparkling with mischief.
“Nope.” I shoot a quick glance his way. “Too personal.”
“Seriously?” He huffs out. “Is that really fair? You know what I do.”
“Uh yeah, because I saw you up on stage last night,” I argue. “But if I hadn’t, trust me when I tell you, I would have had no idea who you are or what you do if I met you in a crowd.”
“Ouch.” His hands clutch the area over his heart. “Way to hit a guy where it hurts.”
He chuckles. “Not even a hint at what you do? What if I guess? Will you tell me if I get it?”
“I work in the hotel industry.” I relent just a little because I don’t see any harm in giving him this tiny bit of information. “That’s all you’re getting.”
“Call girl?” His whole face lights up as he flashes a teasing grin my way.
“Um, definitely not.” I smirk, then point to a sign on the side of the road that boasts the restaurant name, using it as a tactic to change the subject. “Almost there.”
“Good. I’ve moved into the starving category.” He advises, running a hand over his stomach, which grumbles as if on cue. We both break out laughing.
“Okay, I have one more question for you.” Using his index finger, he lowers his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose until I can see his eyes. They skim down the length of my body, stopping where the material of my skirt is pooled around my upper thighs, then back up until he meets my gaze.
“Did you ever put your panties back on?”
I stare straight ahead, blinking like maybe I misheard him. I didn’t. My pulse is absolutely screaming in my ears now, every nerve in my body suddenly tuned to the heat pulsing between my thighs, and the man responsible for it.
Don’t react.
Don’t give him the satisfaction.
That smug little chuckle of his is still hanging in the air like smoke, and I swear I feel it curl around my skin.
The worst part? I’m not even mad. I should be.
He’s cocky, shameless, and knows exactly how to get under my skin.
But instead, I’m sitting here wondering if I should squeeze my legs together, or spread them.
“Luc,” I say, my voice strangled and just a little higher than normal.
He doesn't respond, his fingers tapping in time with the music on the leg of his jeans, like he didn’t just ask me one of the most inappropriate, filthy, absolutely soul-snatching questions I’ve ever been asked in broad daylight.
And then, then, he glances over and winks. “Don’t worry, Kitten,” he warns, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “I’ll figure it out later.”
Oh. I am in so much trouble.