Chapter 17 – Lumen
Chapter Seventeen
Lumen
The guys make it back to the bus, and we take off for Columbia. I took a three-minute cold shower because I didn’t want to steal all the hot water two nights in a row, and it was surprisingly refreshing.
I’m stretched out across the bed in a sports bra and shorts, humming along to the music in my head as I work on the lyrics Malcolm created. I should probably try to get some sleep, but I’m still buzzing and not tired at all.
I’m bummed I can’t bust out the instruments to test the riff that my head won’t let go of.
The soft thump of someone knocking on the door catches my attention, and I roll over onto my side, calling out, “Come in.”
“I missed you, baby doll.” Malcolm slides inside wearing a smirk and even lower slung sweatpants than last night. He’s slender enough that there aren’t bulging muscles on his chest or stomach, but when he moves just right, the lightest outline of abs and obliques become visible.
His biceps and forearms always show lithe muscles, but the ones on his chest are just sneaky enough that they only really show when he’s playing, and I have no idea why I love that so much.
He doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed at my side, stretching out languidly and resting his head on his palm.
“No offense to your comfy jammies from last night, but the bra and workout shorts are way sexier.” His sharp, pointy canines dig into his lower lip, and he reaches over, running two fingers under the thick strap of my bra.
His skin is warm, and his scent hits me with an intensity I’m not prepared for.
I sway toward him, huffing obsessively.
Wow.
I thought I’d experienced a light high when it came to Theo’s scent, but I’ve never felt anything like this.
When Kincaid and I were walking past the paparazzi, he pulled me close to his chest. I couldn’t get enough of his hazelnut scent. Even that doesn’t compare to how badly I ache for Malcolm…
What would he do if I buried my nose in his bare chest, sniffing out where he smells the strongest? Would he push me away? Or let me wallow in all his delicious pheromones?
He’s rather skinny.
I bet I could pin him to the bed if I tried.
I blink repeatedly as rational thought catches up.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Jesus.
Am I ovulating?
I’ve heard women can be hyperaware of manly smells when we are.
I force myself to lean back on my forearm as my face heats.
Mal lets my bra strap snap against my shoulder and moves to brush his fingers over my cheek. “I hate this.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“Yeah, well, I still fucking hate it.” He slowly teases his thumb down, running it over my lower lip.
My skin sizzles as his crystal blue eyes meet mine. He keeps eye contact as his fingers trace my jaw, and it gets hard to breathe.
Malcolm is gorgeous.
Way too hot to be looking at me like he is. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief, and whatever trouble he wants to get into, I’m down to join him.
Hell, if he wanted to wrap me in his arms and snuggle me while we fell asleep, I’d jump at the chance.
I’m an affectionate person, but I’ve learned to get by without it.
Having cravings for cuddles and tender caresses is just part of life, right?
Malcolm is so generous with his touches that I bet he would be down for snuggles.
I’d just have to be brave enough to ask…
“So, Lulu, whatcha doing?” Mal finally pulls his hand from my jaw. My skin buzzes with the urge to follow him, but I hold myself back. “Did Kincaid scare you off? He’s a big fucker, but I could probably take him.”
I laugh, and just like that, I’m no longer sullen from the loss of contact.
“Nah, there’s no need for that,” I say, smiling. “We had a run-in with the paparazzi, but he stepped in and made sure they couldn’t get any additional pictures of me. Then he gave me a pep talk about not stressing once the pictures they did get are posted.”
“The paps were still there when we passed through,” Malcolm admits. “They’re one-hundred-percent honed in on you, and I don’t know how to make that stop.”
“It’s okay.” I reach over and squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault. Kincaid said we just have to ride it out until something more exciting comes along.”
A dazzling smile breaks out on Malcolm’s face, and my heart thumps so loudly I can hear it in my ears.
“That makes it sound like you’re sticking around.” He rolls toward me, and I respond by moving to lie on my back. My hair rests on my notebook, but I ignore it.
Mal plants his hands on either side of my head, leaning over me with his top half. His wavy brown hair falls around his face as he dips toward me.
His mouth is so close that it almost brushes mine.
My nipples tighten.
All the oxygen is gone.
Wait.
Maybe I forgot how to breathe.
“You’re not leaving. Right, baby doll?” he asks, his lips ghosting over mine.
It’s not a kiss.
Not really.
But it could be if he got a millimeter closer.
“N-No,” I stutter. “I don’t want to leave yet.”
“Fuck yes.” He plants the quickest peck of a kiss on my lips before moving back to where he started. “Just wait, we’re going to have so much fun together.”
I’m left staring at the roof of the bus with my chest heaving. My bra isn’t going to do anything to hide my tight nipples, and it’s tempting to continue to stare into oblivion.
If he had kissed me, I would have kissed him back.
Hell, I still want him to kiss me.
“What’s this?” he asks, prying my notebook from under my hair.
I force myself to roll to face him, even if my brain is busy trying to convince me I should beg him to climb on top of me and kiss me for real.
“I wanted to work on some stuff for your song—”
“Our song.”
“Nah, it’s all yours,” I assure him. “I know what it’s like to have a vision for the finished product in your head. If you hate the tweaks I made, you can swap it back. It won’t hurt my feelings, I promise.”
“Taking credit for someone else’s work really isn’t my style,” he says seriously. “Everything you’ve done has made it better. I wouldn’t change it back just to be able to prevent cowriting credit.”
He’s about to stumble very close to trauma I didn’t realize I had. They’re letting me stay with them, and I want to be helpful. It took a while to convince Theo that I didn’t want to deal with contracts and putting my name on Tangled Desires’ songs.
I have no idea why it scares me so much, but if anyone knew I wrote some of their biggest hits, I’d be perceived. Since everyone thinks Tangled Desires writes their own stuff, they’re the ones on the hook if fans hate it.
If they love it, that’s amazing.
I can still revel in that privately.
One day I would like to get credit for the songs I create. I just want a little more practice before the public gets to judge my work.
“No, I mean, I wouldn’t want credit,” I say very seriously. “I love helping work out the kinks, but at the end of the day, it’s still your creation.”
“I don’t agree with that at all,” Malcolm says, tossing my notebook down on the bed. “But we don’t have to argue about it right now. I’m still hyped from the show. Are you tired?”
“No.”
“Perfect,” he purrs. “I heard there’s a new horror movie that just hit video on demand. One of the roadies told me he almost pissed his pants with the jump scares. Wanna watch it with me?”
God, I’m such a wimp when it comes to scary movies, but I also don’t want to be alone.
“Yeah, but my laptop screen is tiny,” I admit.
“Ehh, well, we have some options.” He smirks. “We can hang out in the living room. It has a bigger screen. Or there’s the small one in here.”
My face flames as I think that through. If we hang out in the living room, we’ll likely have company. Having other people around would help ensure that I wouldn’t do something stupid, but it would also equate to an audience watching us cuddle.
“Let’s hang out in here.”
“You got it, baby doll.” He rolls off the mattress and heads to the small TV in the corner next to the shelves on the wall with the door. He pulls on something, and the TV stretches toward the bed.
Damn, I didn’t know that was possible. I never bothered trying to watch anything because I figured the screen would be so small that it wasn’t worth it.
Malcolm spins around, and his sweats fall even lower on his hips.
Seriously.
What percentage of body fat does that man have?
It’s gotta be a ridiculously low number.
He smiles, and those damn dimples appear in his stubble. “You gonna get under the covers and make use of the pillows? Or is this a stay-over-the-blankets kind of cuddle session?”
Oh my god.
He’s way too flirtatious, and I’m way too needy to make good choices. I want to have him snuggled up behind me.
Malcolm is pure trouble, and I’m down for the ride.
Malcolm is such a ham. He’s more skittish than I am. With him wrapped around my back, we both jiggle during the jump scares.
Once the first movie is over, he digs around for the remote he found in the cabinet above the bed.
“Okay, that guy wasn’t lying. That was fucking terrifying.” He raises his arm and flips through the choices. “I’ll never be able to enjoy a cigarette in an alley again.”
“I didn’t know you smoke,” I say, laughing.
“Ehh, not all that often. Usually when I’m drinking,” he says, leaning around me to see the television.
It really is tiny, and even with it pulled toward the bed, it’s hard to make out. The movie would have been a thousand times scarier on a big screen with surround sound.
He must pick something because the screen changes before he drops the remote on the bed in front of me. His hand comes to rest on my stomach, similar to how he had it during the last movie, and he buries his face in my hair.
I’m not sure how he can see the television at all.
For a while, he was holding his head up with his hand, but now he’s using the pillow.
His warm breath fans over the back of my head as he snuggles his knees closer to my ass. He really is affectionate, and he hasn’t tried to make anything sexual. Well, he accidentally grabbed my boob during one of the jump scares, but he apologized and repositioned his hand immediately.
Even thinking about it makes me smile.
Tonight was exactly what I needed.
A moment of human connection without being put on the spot.
I rest my hand over his. “This was nice. Thank you for being a perfect gentleman.”
“My evil plan to trick you into thinking I’m a better human being than I am is working,” he says, sounding sleepy. “Night, Lulu.”
Huh.
I guess he’s not planning to leave, and I’m strangely okay with that.