Consumed (Devoured, #2)(27)

He doesn’t budge when I stretch out beside of him, or when I clear my throat.

“When this is all over, you, Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe, will tell me everything.”





Lucas





The shrill ring of my phone, and not my alarm clock, jerks me out of bed. Sienna is sleeping peacefully in the bed next to me, and the room is dark, but I know we’re running late. I accept the call, knowing damn well who’s waiting on the other line without looking at the screen.

“Wake up,” Kylie sings. “And don’t give me that crap about already being up. I can practically hear the yawn in your breathing.”

I turn on the bedside lamp. “Why the f*ck do I feel like you’ll be doing this more than Tyler for the next month and a half?”

She snorts. “I may not be going on tour, but I’m still your assistant. It’s my job to make sure you’re doing what’s right. Including waking up on time and not missing the bus.”

“One, they won’t leave me, and two, if you keep bitching at me, I won’t ever get there. I’ll call you once we get on.” We end the call on that note, and when I finally look at the screen, I realize that Kylie’s calling me from McCrae’s local number and not their place in New Orleans.

Her being in town explains why Wyatt was nowhere to be found last night, and I’ve got to admit, it’s a relief. Nothing would ruin this tour faster than

“Guess you weren’t lying about this early morning thing,” Sienna says, and I look back to see her sitting up, her red hair all over her place, looking like the best kind of trouble. “Do I have time to shower or are we too late?”

“Tyler will live.” I skim my hand down the side of her face, and she shivers. “And there’s no f*cking way you’re going into that bathroom without me.”

A half an hour later when we go downstairs, there’s already a car waiting out front for us—Kylie’s doing because she’s the only person besides my housekeeper and myself with the code to the gate. Once Sienna and I are securely inside and the car has started to move, I sink back in the black leather seat, squeeze my eyes shut, and let my head fall back on the headrest.

This is the first time in months that I’ve overslept, but not for a good reason. I’ve got one motherf*cker of a headache. The little bit of sleep I managed to get last night was screwed over by shitty dreams. The only bright side is the twenty minutes I spent in the shower with Sienna, with my cock buried deep inside of her, and her fingernails raking a crisscross pattern across my back as we f*cked against the tile wall.

Even then, even after letting go, she was still tense from arguing about Sam last night.

Automatically, the muscles in the back of my neck tighten. Fucking Samantha. She’s kept her promise to leave me alone, and yet she’s still causing me problems.

Sienna rests her hand on my chest. “You alright?” Her voice is worried. Even when she’s frustrated with me—with anyone—my needs are still first and foremost to her.

I open my eyes and take in the sight of her. “How many of the tour cities have you been to?”

Her eyebrows knit together over her blue eyes. “Did you know that you’re the most evasive, infuriating man that I’ve ever known?”

“There you go again.” I brush my thumb over her cheek, and her shoulder lifts a little. “Answer the question, Sienna. How many?”

She draws in a breath and then lets it out. “A handful,” she says. I trail my finger around the scooped neck of her tight T-shirt, and she flushes the sexiest shade of red. Staring down at her thighs, she continues, “We didn’t go on many vacations when my parents were still together. Once they got divorced, travel all but stopped. Unless you don’t count my dad’s half-assed attempt to get Seth and me to move to Maine.”

I don’t know much about Sienna’s childhood, but the few times she’s mentioned it, she almost immediately changed the subject. Hearing the disappointment in her voice—it just makes me want to protect her even more.

“I’ll take you everywhere with me.” To drive my point home, I take her hands, holding her long, slim fingers feel between mine. “As long as you don’t get tired of it and tell me to f*ck off.”

Dipping her head, she presses her lips to the side of my wrist closest to her face. “I’m a travel virgin. I won’t get tired.”

Glancing up at the driver who’s eyes keep looking at the rearview mirror, I let go of her hands and touch my mouth to her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll—” I begin, but then I realize she’s not wearing her usual apple-scented perfume today, but something else with a hint of cherry. “Fuck, you smell good enough to eat,” I whisper.

“Good luck with that on the bus.” She inclines her head to five parked buses coming into view. “Holy shit . . . you never said it was that many.”

“It’s a big tour, Red. Two buses for us, one for Wicked Lambs, and two more for the crew. We’ve moved past the days of the one bus shit.”

“That sounds so unbelievably cocky.”

“Just being honest.” I regret those words the moment I say them. Irritation flashes in her blue eyes, but she blinks and it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. Our driver slows the car to a park, and as soon as he gets out to grab our things, I take the conversation back to where I was intending to go before her scent f*cked me up. To a place that’s far away from words like past and truth and honesty.