Christmas with a Rockstar (Rock Revenge Trilogy 3.50)

When Cilla mutters something that sounds like “I can’t tell,” I give Kylie a little smile. “Maybe I just wanted a reason to touch your stomach,” I say as we walk back toward the house and she throws her head back, laughing.

“Touch it anytime you want but be careful.” She leans forward, glancing around me to give her brother a meaningful look. “It might be in the water.”

At her mention of me ending up pregnant, I feel my face redden, and even though I’m staring straight ahead, I can see his grin out the corner of my eye. Her words have definitely brought up a good point, though. Lucas and I have never actually sat down to talk about kids in our future, and it’s obviously one of those important subjects that needs to be approached before the “I do’s” are said.

I’m deep in my thoughts for the remainder of our time at the party, but when we’re in the car on the way back to the hotel, I turn to him and immediately blurt out what’s on mind.

His grin from earlier returns, and I feel the pit of my stomach clench. Damn, the way he’s looking at me always manages to screw with my senses. “Hell, yes, I want children with you, Sienna.” He touches my thigh and strokes his thumb over my smooth skin, causing my breath to catch. “Was there ever a doubt in your mind?”

“No. Yes, I—”

His hand moves a little higher, his fingers hooking under the fabric between my legs, and I squeeze my legs around his wrist. “Do you want a baby with me, Red?”

“Yes.” It comes out almost pleadingly, and I quickly correct myself. “After the wedding, I mean. After—”

Lucas’ knuckles brush my clit, and I grip either side of the leather seat. “I know what you mean,” he says, and I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face. “So, in the meantime, I’m going to spend every second I can getting as much of you as possible.”

He strokes my center a little harder, and I bite down on my tongue. “Starting now?” I say at last, sounding like I’m seconds away from floating away.

He chuckles, and I feel the car accelerate, feel his fingers move faster too. “That’s the plan.”

Every inch of my body is on fire by the time we reach the hotel, and I’m shocked I can still stand upright while he guides me through the lobby. He’d spent every second of the ride back teasing me to the point of a massive orgasm, and the moment I was about to let go, he’d conveniently pulled the car up to the valet. Leading me past the check-in desk, he touches the small of my back, his expression unreadable as someone—obviously one of his fans—takes a photo of us from afar.

“That doesn’t bother you?” I question softly, which causes the corners of his mouth to lift into a smile that makes my heart skip a few beats.

“What bothers me is the fact your panties are still on.”

God, he knows how to make my throat go dry with just a handful of words. Staring up at him from under my lashes as we enter an elevator that’s currently occupied by another couple, I huskily reply, “Honestly, I’m surprised they’re not in your pocket.”

His laugh is low and inviting, and I don’t miss how the woman standing in the corner lifts an eyebrow appreciatively at him. I grip his elbow a little tighter; position my body so that I’m partially blocking her view.

“Next time,” he promises.

The other woman releases a little cough, and I press my lips together to hold back the smile threatening to split my face. Finally, the couple exits the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, Lucas grabs me to him, his large hands cupping my ass through my slinky dress.

“I hate you in clothes,” he complains, resting his forehead to mine. His messy hair falls into both our faces, and I can’t resist pushing it back.

“I—” I begin, but the elevator dings, signaling we’ve reached our floor. “Well, hell, looks like you won’t be hating my clothes much longer.”

Without warning, he picks me up, and I feel lightheaded when his mouth demands my attention, his tongue parting my lips insistently. Warmth pours through me, settling in my core. He pulls away, and it takes me a moment to realize we’re in the entryway of our room.

“I’m impressed, Mr. Wolfe,” I say as he sets me down and shuts the door. “You can carry me, turn me into a wobbly mess with your lips, and open a door all at the same time.”

“I’m fucking talented,” he drawls. “The best at everything I do.”

“Cocky bastard.” I start to straighten the hem of my dress, but he stops me. Nudges the fabric a little higher until it’s bunched around my waist.

“Don’t even waste your time with that.” Trapping me against the door, he reaches behind me, undoing my zipper carefully. My breathing is slow, pleading, and it only intensifies when his fingers splay across the bare skin of my back. In one quick motion, he drops the dress around my feet. Leaning away from me, he tilts his head to the side, his beautiful eyes examining me so carefully that I feel my skin flush under his scrutiny.

“What?” I ask huskily, glancing down at the paisley print carpet.

Grinning, he cups my face. “I’m trying to decide how I want you.”

“How you want me?” I repeat, taking a step forward so that my breasts press up to his fully clothed chest. He nods, and I shake my head. “What about how I want you?”

He sucks in a breath. “Fuck, Red, say that one more time.”

Clearing my throat, I throw my long red strands back and meet his gaze. “What about how I—” I begin, but my words are lost when he grabs my hand and presses it to his cock. Damn. “I swear, I hate clothes just about as much as you do.”