Chapter 26
Luc
Play This When I’m Gone
Machine Gun Kelly
I belt out the final song of our encore, and even though my throat is raw from the two hours we’ve been on stage, I would happily sing another hour if the arena allowed for it. I love performing, but I honestly can’t wait to be back stage and near Lily again.
I witnessed a shift in the way she looked at me tonight. The way she put her trust entirely in my hands. That cranked up my desire for her to a fever pitch that had my fingers itching to touch her, have her in my grasp again.
And that’s exactly what I do when I trot off stage, grabbing her around the waist with one hand, the other hooking around the back of her neck as I smash my mouth against hers.
Her hands fist in my sweaty locks, pulling me closer, and I know this is it.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
For her head to catch up with what her heart already knows.
“Get a fucking room.” Mikey grumbles as he brushes past us, pulling me back to reality, both of us breaking apart on a laugh.
“Not gonna apologize for that.” I press my forehead to hers, sweat still rolling down my back from the heat of the lights.
“Wasn’t looking for one.” She retorts, her light blue eyes dancing with mirth.
“Um, not to break up this little reunion, but you two might want to take this somewhere else more private.” Sadie dips her chin toward a group of onlookers at the side of the stage.
“Yep.” I drape an arm over Lily’s shoulder and lead us in the direction of our backstage room. I nod over at the reporter, who’s a couple steps behind us. “Thanks.”
When we reach the doorway to the room, Lily dips out from under my hold and steps away. “I’ll meet you back on the bus.”
“What? Why?” My brow furrowing. “I want you to stay. We’ll go back together.”
She darts a glance into the room full of people, and then back at me. Mikey’s got a bottle of tequila in his hand, and Dean’s leaning over some barely dressed girl against the wall.
“I don’t want to cramp your style.” She waves a hand in the direction of the door. “Go have fun with the guys. I’ll just see you later.”
“Lily,” my voice low, “You are all the fun I want and need.” I toss a look over my shoulder toward the room. “That’s just white noise.”
“Those are your best friends.” She contends. “I’m not having you choose between me and them.”
I blow out a sigh as I roll my shoulders in an attempt to chill myself out. “There is no choice here. Yeah, they’re my best friends. Nothing is going to change that. Not me being with you. Not having you on tour with us. Not me leaving with you instead of partying with them.”
I rest a hand on her shoulder and lean into her. “Whatever I do, isn’t going to change what they do or how they feel about me. You understand that?”
“Why do you have to be so perfect?” She shakes her head, trying to contain a smile as her teeth chomp down onto her lower lip.
“You know that drives me fucking crazy.” My eyes dart to her mouth. “I want to be the one biting that lip.”
“Luc,” Her voice barely a whisper.
“I’m trying to be patient, but I’m not going to lie baby. I want to fuck you more than I want to take my next breath.” I cup her face and sweep my thumb over her cheek, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “A man only has so much will power, and mine’s about to snap.”
“I want you too.” She confesses, eyes locking onto me.
We’re back at the bus within ten minutes, and the second the door clicks shut behind Rita, the silence hits. Not real silence, but the kind that wraps around you and says this moment belongs to no one but us.
Lily’s standing there in the soft lamplight, hair loose, cheeks flushed, the afterglow of adrenaline still clinging to her skin like stage dust on mine. She has no idea how beautiful she looks like this. How dangerous she is to me.
She turns, and when her eyes meet mine, something in my chest tilts off its axis. I’ve been on stages in front of thousands, bathed in light and noise, but nothing has ever felt as overwhelming as her in this quiet.
“Luc…”
My name from her hits harder than any crowd roar ever could. There’s hesitation in her eyes, but it’s not about me, but about the leap. About trusting where her heart is trying to go. I take a slow step toward her. Careful. Controlled. If I rush, I know I could ruin it.
“Tell me now if you don’t want this,” I say, voice low, steadying myself as much as her. “Because you know how I feel.”
She breathes in, shaky. Brave. “I want this.”
And just like that, every restraint I’ve been clinging to frays.
Not snaps, but frays, soft and slow, like silk unraveling in candlelight.
I reach for her face, fingers tracing her jaw, and she leans into the touch like she’s been holding her breath for two years.
That alone almost knocks me out. I press my forehead to hers, eyes closed for a second.
“I’m not touching you like a memory,” I whisper. “I’m touching you like you’re my future.”
She shivers. My pulse stumbles.
When I kiss her, it’s soft at first, reverent, careful, tasting the promise she’s giving me.
Then she makes this tiny sound in the back of her throat and my entire body tightens with it.
I kiss her deeper, slower, like I have all night and all our lives.
I’m going to savor every second of having her in my hands again.
We end up on the couch, her knees bracketing my hips, breath mixing with mine. She wearing a dress, very much like the one when we spent our first full day together two years ago. She hasn’t said it, but I know she did it for me.
My hands find the hem of the skirt, sliding under the material, relearning the map of her skin. She looks down at me, eyes heavy with want, and that’s it, every vow I ever made to take it slow, to be patient, goes up in smoke.
It’s not lust. It’s more than need. It’s recognition. Her body remembering what her mind forgot. “Lily…” My voice breaks on her name. I don't care. She deserves honesty, not armor.
Her fingers thread into my hair, gentle and yes, claiming. “I choose this. I choose you.”
Fuck me. Those words wreck me. They’ll stay under my skin forever.
I tug her closer, moving with her like we’ve done this a thousand times and never once forgot how. No hurry, no rush, just heat and breath and the kind of connection you don’t get twice in a lifetime, but yet, somehow, we managed to find it.
She lifts her arms as I peel the dress off and drop it to the floor.
She’s in nothing but panties, my cock straining against denim and reason.
I strip my shirt, and she’s already working the button on my jeans, rising to her knees so I can shove them down.
She slides off to tug away my boots and jeans completely, her hair falling her face like a halo gone wrong.
We don’t say a word. We don’t need to. Every look, every touch that passes between us says more than any words could.
She slides her panties off, and moves to straddle me again, but I guide her back, easing her onto the couch. “Let me,” I murmur.
I start at her ankle, peppering kisses up her calf, behind her knee, and then up the inside of her thigh.
She spreads her legs wider, her center glistening it’s so wet, and I drag my tongue through her folds, tasting every thing I’ve missed.
Her back arches, a whimper sounding from her; a sound that I swear I’ll hear forever.
Her nails dig into my scalp as my tongue moves slow, steady, then deeper, building until she’s trembling under my hands.
I don’t stop until she comes apart, until she gasps my name like it’s the only one she will ever need to say again.
I give her a moment to breathe, then crawl up her body, kissing every inch until I reach her breasts. I suck one nipple into my mouth, hard, then the other, my hands anchoring her hips when she writhes against me.
Her fingers find my shoulders, dragging, needy. I move higher, capturing her mouth, tasting her, tasting us. My body shakes with need, cock throbbing, slick at the tip.
I shift my hips so I’m between her legs, line myself up to her core, and push, slow, deep, inch by inch, until every nerve is me screams with relief.
Her eyes flutter open, and for one long heartbeat, we just exist like that.
Connected. Whole. It isn’t fire, it’s like loss of gravity.
Warm, steady, consuming us from the inside out.
Floating in a place that is entirely our own.
A magnet locking into place where it always belonged.
Then I move. Not fast. Not frantic. Just a rhythm we fall into naturally, bodies remembering the choreography our minds forgot. Her hips rise to meet mine, soft gasps turning to moans, her nails scoring my back as the couch creaks in protest.
I brace my forearm beside her head, the other hand gripping her thigh, guiding her to move with me.
Each slow thrust drags a new sound from her throat – half gasp, half plea, and I match each one with my breath against her ear.
The rhythm builds like a song that refuses to fade.
The longer we move, the more everything else blurs until there’s only pulse and skin and the sound of her moaning my name.
The air grows thick with heat, our breaths, our heartbeats. My control starts to slip. She feels too good, too right. “Look at me.” I whisper.
Her eyes lock on mine, glassy and full of everything I’ve been starving for.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, my voice rough. “I’m right here.”
“Luc…” she breathes, hips trembling under my hold.
“Come for me, baby.”
She does. Her entire body bows, tight and trembling, and I follow, because there’s no universe where I don’t. The pleasure rips through me, hot and consuming, every muscle pulled taut as I spill inside her, lost in the sound of her release.
The only light is the lamplight, the hum of the fridge in the background, the quiet breath of our daughter asleep down the hall.