12. Thomas
CHAPTER 12
Thomas
Our luxury minibus pulls up outside the Edinburgh Hotel and pedestrians stand back as the doors open. This hotel’s well known for housing touring acts, celebrities, and politicians, so undoubtedly locals are used to getting eyefuls.
A few murmurs travel around the sidewalk but security stands by. The other guys and I hurry in through the hotel door held open by a staff member dressed impeccably in a long maroon jacket and matching hat. Much better dressed than any of us, in our ripped jeans, wrinkled t-shirts, and rumpled boots. I’ve got Converse on that I’ve owned since I was nineteen. To be fair, I don’t wear them often, which was exactly why I thought they deserved to come on this tour.
We crowd together in the lobby while Ash and the tour manager speak to reception. Usually we have our rooms and keys before we even step in the door but there apparently have been a lot of conventions and groups in town this week and hotels are scrambling to accommodate everyone’s particular requests.
“I say we get brunch at that place Murray mentioned. My stomach’s about to digest itself,” Kai says. Murray, Jez’s drummer, is from Edinburgh. He and the rest of her band are off meeting his family for brunch, but he mentioned somewhere we could get excellent haggis.
I’ve never been a big haggis fan but I’ll eat anything, and while in Rome—plus black pudding is delicious so if I can get both, I’ll be set for the day. I nod.
Nico shoves his hands in his pockets while Holden blows on his. “Fuckin’ freezing here, innit?” says Nico.
Whenever Nico tries out some English lexicon, the forced feeling makes my insides chuckle. To be fair, man’s got balls. You wouldn’t catch me in Italy trying to say, “Capiche?” Though we discussed this once and Nico explained that’s not even real Italian, so yeah, I’d make a real jackass out of myself.
“So we get our stuff up to our rooms and then freshen up and head out?” says Holden.
“Freshen up? What are we, wilting flowers?” Kai says.
As they argue about how fresh we need to be, post hangover after last night’s festivities, out of the corner of my eye I spy Jez run into the lobby toward Ash. Her eyes widen and she turns, running back outside like a blur of blue hair and purple jumper. Must’ve forgotten something.
I hitch my backpack higher up, looking around at all the benches and sofas stuffed with guests, coats on and coffees in hand. My stomach grumbles painfully loud.
“All right there, Thomas?” says Nico. “Sounds like something’s about to escape.”
“Starving,” I say, while Kai’s flicking through something on his phone.
“I’ll get them to give us a lift over to this place. Sounds like it’s too far to walk,” he says.
Meanwhile, Jesamine runs back in, phone gripped in her hand which is pink from the cold. Ash saunters over to us and hands us all key cards. “You three are on floor five, which is that lift over there.” He points to a set of lifts down a carpeted corridor over his right shoulder. “And you, Mr Ashcroft, are on the sixth floor, and floors 6-12 use the lifts on the other side of reception. Don’t get lost.”
“Good, I don’t want to be anywhere near him,” says Holden good-naturedly. Kai snorts.
“No! We have to all stay together! I can’t sleep without you beautiful beings on the other side of the wall from me!” moans Nico in mock-despair.
“All right. Half an hour then back down here and we’ll grab the car to the restaurant. See you later, loner,” Kai says to me. I nod, do a fake salute, and head over to the lifts for my floor as Ash impatiently notes that sound check is at 1 so we can’t take all damn day stuffing our faces.
I set an alarm on my watch for a half hour then look up to a set of lift doors closing. I launch forward and stick a hand between them and step in, facing the door.
There’s one other body in the back corner, and when my eyes meet hers in the reflection of the gold doors, my heart does a little flip.
Shit.
“Hi, Thomas,” says Jez. Her husky—or is it whispery?—voice makes my own throat feel the need to be cleared. So I do.
“Morning, Jez.” I give a weird smile, scowl at myself, then return to staring at the digital screen showing what floor we’re on. Then I realize I haven’t pushed a fucking button yet.
The 12th is lit up. Lucky girl scored a penthouse. That means a corner room with a view and a jacuzzi. Ash is spoiling her. But then, I’ve had a turn in those rooms before. Maybe it’s first time tourers who get those.
Realizing I still haven’t pushed my floor, I reach out and purposefully stab at the 6th with a knuckle. The lift makes a two-toned ding and I step forward onto my right foot as though the door’s about to open. Instead, it carries on.
“Sorry,” she says, voice soft. “I think it’s because I pushed mine early and yours was a bit late.” She doesn’t sound too sorry, but she does sound like she’s not feeling too well. Maybe fighting a cold. That’s not lucky, for sure, but also, not abnormal. Just unfortunate it’s started so early.
I just grunt in acknowledgement and slide to the other corner of the lift so she has space to exit first.
“Excited for tonight?” She’s clearly trying. Poor lass. I give her that.
I shrug and nod. Then force myself to speak. “Hopefully as good a crowd as last night.”
Somehow, the strong nearly-silent type thing became my trademark. Except on bass. Everything comes out on those four strings, and that’s enough for me. I’m not shy. I just like to save my energy for the people I’m closest to, I guess, and when it became a thing I was known for, I gave in. Everyone has an overgeneralized character trait in this industry.
Weird, the things a spotlight do to you that you just allow after a while. Sometimes without even thinking.
Then it occurs to me—she undoubtedly feels awkward about what happened last night. She didn’t faint in front of us , but we saw the aftermath, and I know she was embarrassed. And as I was falling asleep last night, all I could think about was how she’s got to be worried that Kai, and even the rest of us, will hold this against her. That she’s not strong enough to handle the tour, and that our group assessment of why she should be disqualified from Ten to One was correct. But that’s not true at all.
“I thought your set was excellent,” I say. My voice is a bit stilted, and I think lower than most people expect. I don’t look at her. I still stare at the buttons and the digital screen, which seems to be moving slower than fuck. We’re only nearing eight.
But I look up because I can almost hear her jaw drop. Her eyes are wide. Ha. Didn’t expect that from me, did you?
“Thank you. I was happy with my performance for the most part. The band was perfect. I’m just amazed I didn’t get booed off, but upset that my body rebelled afterwards.”
She stops suddenly like she’s overshared. But I actually really like her voice. Her speaking voice is lower than she tends to sing, and it makes her seem very down-to-earth.
“It goes without saying that you guys played flawlessly.” I don’t know that she even caught any of our set, because we definitely didn’t play at our best. I made a few flubs, but that’s normal for first night. Kai, however, was all over the place. I don’t think the audience noticed, but he swapped out some words and even lines, and forgot his guitar was meant to intro Night into Noon and just stood there, staring at Nico with an anytime you’re bloody ready expression, before his eyes bugged out and he counted me in.
“Thanks. We had some moments,” is all I offer. I consider detailing them. It might ease any tension she’s feeling. But then the room—the lift, I should say—shudders sideways to a violent halt.
I fling my arms out and grab the rail that runs around the wall. Jez does the same, grabbing it on the back wall and the side, near me.
“What the hell!” she yelps.
The screen shows we’re between floors 11 and 12. Just about to stop at the penthouse to drop her off. And we’re not moving.
I press the 12th floor button again, but it’s still lit up and nothing’s happening. Fuck.
“Oh God, no, God no, God no,” Jez whispers under her breath.
I’m not afraid of enclosed spaces, and certainly don’t struggle from claustrophobia like she does. But they’re not my favorite thing in the world.
I press the lobby button but it does bugger all. It feels like we’re at a slight angle, and as I look at the floor and our heights, sure enough, we are somewhat tilted. Bad fucking sign.
Jez pulls herself along the rail to stand beside me at the control panel. She presses the big red EMERGENCY CALL button, and a moment later, a bored voice answers.
“Hello, Lift Technician speaking, where are you located?”
“We’re stuck in a lift!” Jez moans. “Can you get us out please?”
“Ma’am, I can see your location and hotel floor on our computers, and can verify your unit is unmoving.”
“Wow, that’s fucking helpful,” I mutter quietly. I reach for the doors to try to pry them apart.
“Whatever you do, do not try to open the doors manually. If they were to open, a fall is possible.”
I immediately stop, and sigh.
“What do we do?” Jez looks at me directly for the first time and the color’s drained from her cheeks.
“Are you asking me, or the guy on the?—”
“Sir, hello, are there two of you?”
“There are indeed,” I say. “And one of us has a problem with enclosed spaces.”
“Ah, I see. Well, hold tight, sir. Our staff will be on site within the next half hour to forty-five minutes. We should have you out of there in no time. Please be assured you’re receiving plenty of oxygen and there’s no cause for panic. You are perfectly safe.”
“In no time?” Jez yells. “Forty-five minutes is not no time!”
But the voice has gone silent. Whether the tech monitors the audio in here or he’s literally gone to track someone down to take the job, I have no concept.
“Ugh,” I say. I sink to the floor and prop myself in the corner, legs crossed out before me. If I stay calm, maybe she will, too. The last thing I want is for her to have an all-out freak-out. But also, I’m not very good at helping people in these situations. The best I can do is to set an example.
She sinks to her knees with her phone out and is tapping at the screen.
“I’m texting my assistant but she says she’s dealing with a ‘catering incident’ right now. She said, ‘Surely security is on it.’” Jez lets out an exasperated sigh that’s more than two-quarters stifled panic.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask lightly.
She doesn’t look up from her phone, but she’s stopped texting. She holds it in both hands like it has the power to beam her out of this situation and transport her directly to her bed.
“I didn’t take my medication yet for the day.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Why is everything getting worse? ” she growls at herself. At least, I hope it’s at herself because I have no earthly answer.
Then she looks almost guiltily at me. “Usually I take my anti-anxiety med for claustrophobia in the morning. But because I packed up so bloody early to get into the bus, I figured I’d start my day routine once I checked into my room. I didn’t wash my hair, do makeup, nothing. I didn’t expect to get stuck in a fucking elevator.”
I look her over out of curiosity more than anything. Sweat’s beading on her skin—her temples, her forehead, and some glistens on her neck. She’s wearing a huge purple knit cardigan over a tight white t-shirt, and she’s kneeling in jeans and sneakers. One hand raises to the base of her throat.
“I feel lightheaded. I just want to stay sitting.” Her voice is tight and her lips barely move, but then she starts to squirm around like her legs aren’t comfortable, and she moans quietly, “Oh no, oh no.”
Her breathing quickens and little gasps come out, but she covers her mouth. Her eyes avert mine. I’m starting to get alarmed, so I scoot closer to her, and put a tentative arm out, about to place my hand on her shoulder. Maybe human touch will remind her she’s not alone.
I’m so not the right person to be in here. It’s about to make me panic.
And then, something strikes me. Her scent is loud in my head, not like a song but an alarm going off, cutting through my rut suppressant that also suppresses Omega scents.
Whether her panic has upped her scent or I’m just now focused enough to notice it, either way, it’s there. And it’s … dammit.
It’s fucking delicious.
She pulls her fairy-blue hair around her shoulder and twists it nervously. The movement of the strands sends a thicker waft of her at me. And I pinpoint it. It’s like spring flowers in Hawaii. Or just a garden somewhere, but sweet. Honeysuckle, and jasmine maybe.
I inhale deeply to test this theory, and the action makes her jump. She shrinks back as though she could melt into the floor.
Oh, God. She’s in heat.
“You won’t—please, don’t tell the rest.” Her voice gets small and her eyes get big, and mine drop to her chest. Her nipples are poking into the fabric of her shirt and I wish to hell I hadn’t just looked down like a total cur.
Now my cock’s starting to take notice. Give me strength.
This is both not good, and so good. Fuck.
I stand and press the call button, turning away, giving her time to adjust her cardigan and hide her aroused nipples from my aroused cock. Covertly I slip a hand down to the front of my jeans and try to rearrange the contents.
I stab the button. “Hello—is this going to jump up the priority list any time soon?”
After a moment and some static, the earlier voice returns. “Sorry, still looking about forty to forty-five minutes before we reach you. Hold tight.”
You hold it tight, bastard.
I turn back around to face Jez. I clear my throat, then lower to the floor again.
“Of course I won’t tell them. But if I—if I help you with your heat, will it help your panic?”
Unblinking, a tear falls down her cheek and leaves a visible trail.
“Please don’t cry,” I say softly. I so badly want to reach up and touch her perfect cheek, to hold the tear there then take it away. My Alpha is fully awakened now, and he wants to help this Omega through what could be a very rough time, alone. But even rougher stuck in a lift with someone she’s sworn to hate—and stuck on tour with him and the rest of his bandmates.
She doesn’t answer, but keeps her wide eyes trained on me as she shrugs off her cardigan. Her breathing is fast but she’s trying her best to control it, and with each shuddering, uneven inhale, her breasts, which seem to be straining against her thin shirt, jiggle slightly. God, I want to bury my face there and suck on those sweet nipples still visible just on the other side of that lucky, lucky fabric.
She’s not even wearing a bra. That much I can see now. She straightens up. And nervously, she nods yes.
What a hell of a place to be in.
What a wicked scenario that plays out in my mind. I nod reassuringly, and scoot closer so I’m kneeling before her and our knees touch, her legs off to the side.
“I won’t hurt you, rock star,” I say gently. “I’ll help you. And we’ll get out of here. And you’ll be fine. Is that what you want? So we’re clear?”
She bites her lip but nods again. Her cheeks are pinker than any blush, her eyes bright and shining, and the tear’s long dried. She raises her hands to her breasts and lifts them. With that permission, I reach for them with both hands, then in one graceful movement, she leans back onto the floor and I lean over her, pressing her breasts together, molding them, kneading them.
“They’re gorgeous, you know. Very perky.”
She moans gently, and pulls at the hem of her shirt as her legs slide apart. I kneel in between them and press my knee up against her mound. I’ll be with you in a moment. First, these.
I finish what she starts, and her t-shirt’s now on the floor as her breasts immediately react to the air exposure. Her nipples stand up like ripe cherries, and I cup both breasts, pressing the nipples as close together as they’ll go before I bury my face between them.
“Please, please, Thomas,” she whimpers.
“Of course, rock star,” I say softly, then pop one nipple into my mouth and suck it like a divine candy that I could make melt if I tried hard enough.
A throaty groan seeps out of her and her legs spread wider. I reach one hand down to find her jeans absolutely drenched, and begin to undo her zipper while my other hand twists one nipple and my lips make love to the other.
“Your nipples are so hard, sweet girl,” I say around the puckered skin. Her other breast feels hot and heavy in my hand. I squeeze the orb and am certain I’ve never been given access to a more beautiful pair of tits in my life. I could live here. Right here. In this fucking elevator, with this gorgeous woman beneath me, sucking on her nipples like my survival depends on it.
Suddenly her upper torso lurches forward and the scent of her slick covers me like a heavenly drug. A soft moan slips from her lips as she reaches forward to pull me in closer.
I’ve just given Jesamine Jacobs an orgasm, just by touching her breasts.
I smile to myself. What wicked fun we could have. God, she is everything.
I am in so much trouble.