All Over You (4 page)

Honestly? I want to take you until you beg
me to keep you.

I decide to save those words for later, and I
say, “Have dinner with me.”

Sienna’s mouth drops open a little, like
she’s shocked and doesn’t know that she’s so distracting I’ve not
been able to get a fucking thing accomplished since she ran into me
this morning. She recovers a moment later, but just as she says my
name in a hesitant voice, the door to my dressing room nudges open
and Kylie peeks in.

Is she kidding me?

My sister glances between me and Sienna
several times before saying, “You’re needed.”

A muscle in my jaw tics. “I’m busy,” I
growl.

Kylie cocks her head to the side, keeping her
face blank. Can’t decide whether she’s holding back a look of
distaste or a grin, but I don’t care for either one. “The world
doesn’t stop for Lucas Wolfe,” Kylie points out.

“I need to go and work on . . . costume
stuff,” Sienna says, and she’s already on her feet. Her body knocks
against my legs as she passes by. Rubbing her palms down the sides
of her tight jeans, she glances over her shoulder at me and a rush
of desire speeds through me. I’ve wanted women hours—hell,
minutes—after meeting them, but never this bad. Sienna turns her
gaze from mine and keeps her head down as she rushes to the door.
Kylie steps out of her way, giving her a little smile as she
leaves.

Kylie leans her whole damn body out into the
hallway, watching Sienna’s retreating form for a long moment before
saying, “She seems like a sweet girl.”

“Yeah.”

She comes inside of the dressing room, shuts
the door behind her with the back of her foot, and rests her back
to it. I know I’m in for a shitstorm when Kylie crosses her arms
tightly over her chest, so I cock my eyebrow. “Go on. Spit it
out.”

At first she seems unsure of whether or not
she wants to speak—which is a fucking miracle since Kylie’s got
something to say about everything—but then she shakes her head.
“Don’t . . . Lucas.”

“Don’t what?”

She narrows her brown eyes. “Don’t be a
douche, Luke. Don’t pull your shit with her.”

“You don’t even know her.”

“Neither do you. She looks like a . . .”
Kylie’s words trail off and she takes a deep breath, blushing.

I’m able to mentally fill in her words.

A virgin.

Innocent.

Too sweet for Lucas Wolfe.

But even that doesn’t stop this fucked up
need to consume Sienna, to have her in my bed. Grabbing my water
from the table in front of me, I stand and stalk across the room. I
give Kylie the tight smile I know she can’t stand because she says
it makes me look like a condescending dick. “I’ll do my best.”

“You’re a fucking liar.”

It’s done. This conversation with my little
sister is done.

“Worry about your own shit with Wyatt,” I
warn.

Mentioning whatever the hell she’s still got
going on with him does it for Kylie. Sucking in her cheeks, she
tilts her head to one side. She drags her hand through her striped
hair, frustrated, looking like she wants to knock me in the
mouth.

I’d rather her follow through with hitting me
than listen to her preach about how I shouldn’t seduce the wardrobe
girl.

Kylie settles for jabbing me hard in the
chest, but I don’t budge. “You know what? Have it your way,
Luke.”

“Hadn’t planned on doing anything but that,”
I say as I leave the room. It takes several seconds but then I hear
Kylie sigh, and she speeds up to catch up with me.

Sienna stays out of my way for the rest of
the day—leaving me craving for my next opportunity to get her to
myself—and I catch myself seeing her face as I roll around with the
blonde. When Christina’s hands stroke my body, I imagine pale
fingers rippling across my flesh, digging into my skin and
scratching me hard. When Christina moans in mock ecstasy beneath
me, I imagine Sienna naked, bound, doing the same, with her hands
wrapped tightly around the bed posts and her body trembling around
me.

And when the blonde actress’s time with me is
up—and I’m sure she’ll never see me again—I wish it were Sienna who
comes to my dressing room, and not her. Wyatt lets Christina in,
grinning at her and ogling her ass when he decides to piss off and
leave. The second the door closes behind him, Christina peels her
shirt over her head.

She’s not wearing shit beneath it.

“You want me,” she says, sauntering forward,
and I shake my head.

No, I still want to devour Sienna.

I toss my phone onto the opposite end of the
couch, ignoring the frantic sounds of the incoming text messages
from Samantha. “Not even a little bit,” I say in a cool voice.
“Leave,” I order, but Christina comes to me anyway, sliding her
lush body down on top of mine.

“Why?” she pouts, causing my neck to
stiffen.

“Because I told you before that I wanted
nothing from you. Because I’m not attracted to you.” Her face
falls, even as she traces a long fingernail across my chest. She
opens her mouth to argue, but I shake my head. “I’m not going to
change my mind, Christina.”

When I don’t make an effort to touch her, she
scrambles from my lap, angrily dragging her black shirt over her
head as she leaves. I drop my head back. The second I close my eyes
I hear another text coming through, and I clench my jaw.

Fucking Sam.

A few hours later, when Kylie drives me home,
I can tell she’s still pissed at me. She keeps her eyes attached to
the damn road, and her nostrils flare. She doesn’t say anything,
but I don’t want to talk either. Sam’s still texting me; even from
Atlanta, my ex has managed to royally fuck up my day, my night, and
maybe the rest of the week.

Call me right now or I swear, Lucas,
her last text had said.

Or what? I’ll do it when I’m good and
ready.

Was it screwed up that I could hear her
husky, bitter laughter when she responded back with
Do you
really need to ask ‘or what’?

No, I didn’t need to. I know exactly what
Sam’s capable of, what that vicious bitch knows. She’s the only
person I can’t control, that there’s no possibility of controlling,
so I won’t speak to her. Not until we’re on my terms.

Kylie parks the Escalade as far away from my
front door as she can and leans back into the seat, staring up at a
window on the second floor. “Good night, Lucas.”

I cock an eyebrow. “What? No coming in to
harass me?”

She turns her gaze to mine, focusing her
brown eyes into thin slits. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I get out, I don’t immediately slam the
door. Instead I give her a genuine look. “Bring donuts.”

She scoffs, but the makings of a smile start
to form on her face. “You hate them.”

“Bring them,” I order.

Rolling her eyes, she finally laughs.
“Whatever. See you then.”

I don’t make it into the foyer before Sam is
on my ass again, texting me. Demanding that I call her. Threatening
me. If there’s one person I can always depend on to never change,
it’s my ex.

I send her a text right before I climb into
the shower to shake Sienna out of my system, at least until
tomorrow when I’d claim her.

My Terms.

Sam doesn’t message me back, but I know
better than anyone that shit won’t last very long.

“Lucas Wolfe asked you to dinner?” my
roommate demands for what has to be the twentieth time. I plunge at
a cherry tomato with my fork, and roll my eyes at Tori.

“Yes.”

She twists her napkin in between her small
hands as she lets out a massive squeal. “And you told him no? Are
you shitting me?”

I drop my fork down into my plate, irritated
at myself for even bringing it up. When we first sat down to eat
dinner together, our conversation focused on my family—I’d told her
about the conversation I’d had with Gram on my way home about my
younger brother’s grades.

“Maybe she should hire Seth a tutor,” Tori
had suggested, pouring another glass of wine.

Shaking my head, I’d replied, “He graduates
in five months. I’m not sure how much good a tutor would do for him
at this point, you know?”

Tori must have realized how guilty I felt,
because she’d quickly changed the subject. “So spill it. Tell me
about the YTS shoot?”

I rattled off everything I’d done today from
measuring Christina to going on three separate coffee runs for
Amber to Lucas’s band members hitting on me. The moment I mentioned
what had happened in Lucas’s private dressing room, though, Tori
stopped chewing and leaned in close to me, probing for details.

“Sienna! You’re killing me!” Tori groans,
yanking my thoughts back to the present, where she’s all but
bouncing in her seat. “Tell me everything.”

I frown because she’s so dramatic. “There’s
not much else to tell. I didn’t say no and I didn’t say yes.”

Tori cocks one of her jet black eyebrows,
giving me a skeptical look. She doesn’t seem to notice that she’s
completely obliterated the floral-print paper towel that she picked
up a few minutes ago. “So you told him maybe?”

“You should go get your cow,” I suggest,
referring to one of her many stress balls that she’s worn to
shreds. Her long black hair swings around her face as she jerks her
head from side to side. Groaning, I run my hands through my hair,
as if it’ll help sort my head. It doesn’t because Lucas Wolfe has
been inside of it since first thing this morning, and he refuses to
get the hell out, no matter what I think of to replace him.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell him
anything
. His assistant showed up and said they were ready
for him on set again.”

“And you didn’t go find him later?”

I release a groan and stare at Tori
incredulously. “Okay, for starters, Amber would shank me if she
caught me doing something other than what I’ve been hired to
do—that was one of the first things she told me. Plus, don’t you
think tracking Lucas down is just a little stalkerish?”

She holds up her hand, moving it back and
forth in an eh-maybe-a-little motion. Then Tori’s mouth twists into
a smile, and she shakes her head. “Are you kidding me? He’s a rock
star. Rock stars love stalkers. Stop being so damn shy and just go
out with the guy. Let go for once.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a bunch of
restraining orders against you,” I say wryly, snatching up my fork
again to stuff a giant bite of salad into my mouth. “And before you
ask me any more questions, I doubt he’ll ask again. It was probably
some spur of the moment thing, you know? And besides, I know
nothing about him.”

She shakes her head at me disbelievingly
before letting the paper towel fall to the floor beside the table.
“Everything you need to know about Lucas Wolfe is on Google,” she
says, her voice dropping to a worshiping hush when she says his
name. “And you should look him up because I bet you next month’s
rent he’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“Whatever. He’s probably moved on to the
actress,” I say, feeling lightheaded at the sudden wave of jealousy
that sweeps through me. It’s a bitter emotion that I haven’t
experienced in a long time, and I hate that I feel it now because
of Lucas Wolfe.

***

Luckily for me, I’ve never been big on
gambling because by noon the next afternoon, I would have been
thirteen hundred dollars poorer had I accepted Tori’s bet last
night. The moment I walk past Lucas’s dressing room, he pulls me
inside with him. There’s nobody else in here with us—no assistant
or band members—and I swallow back the dryness in my mouth.

“I’ve got to work, Mr. Wolfe,” I say in a
professional voice, drawing a heartbreaking smile from him.

When he backs me up against a high table with
a row of vanity mirrors behind it, I swear I can hear my heart beat
drumming violently in my chest.

“Have dinner with me, Sienna,” Lucas says,
this time his voice more firm than yesterday. He smells
intoxicating—Polo cologne—and I find myself reaching behind me to
grip the edge of the table, ignoring the uncomfortable warmth
pouring from the vanity mirror’s lights. “I don’t do . . . dates .
. . often, but I want this with you.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“Because,” he says, a thoughtful look forming
on his handsome face, “I want you for dessert.”

Warmth pools in the bottom of my stomach,
spreading through the rest of my body. Lucas reaches behind me and
tugs the hair tie out of my red tresses. He flicks the rubber band
onto the surface of the table, as if it’s the most offensive thing
he’s ever come across, giving me a warning look when I inch my hand
toward it.

“You’re not subtle at all,” I whisper, unable
to keep my voice from cracking.

“I tried that and it didn’t do shit for me.
So I’ve decided I would be upfront with you. I want you eating the
food I cook for you and afterward, I want you hot and sweaty in my
bed, fucking me. I need to taste every inch of your body. I need
to—” His gaze drops to my thighs, and the muscles in his neck go
tense.

This pause—the way his body language does a
total 180—evokes a strangled sound from the back of my throat.
“What?” I question him in a hoarse voice. “What do you need from
me?”

When he brings his hazel eyes back to mine,
staring at me so intensely that I feel like he can see what I’m
thinking—see through my layers of clothing to observe the effect he
has on my body—I draw in an unsteady breath.

“I need to devour you.”

Those words manage to knock the air right
back out of my lungs, and my head spins as one of his hands skims
around my body. He splays it across the small of my back, pulling
me closer to him, and leaning over until his lips are a centimeter
from my collarbone.

“Sienna?” he growls, and I murmur to
acknowledge him. “I’m going to taste you.”