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Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Ravaged Chapter Two

Ravaged 
Chapter Two

“You've been real quiet all day,” Kylie points out as we head into a restaurant later that afternoon. “I figured you’d spend the entire day celebrating your glorious victory. You okay?”
Is it just me, or does she sound real fucking sarcastic when she talks about me celebrating victories. “I’m fine.”
She rolls her brown eyes as I prop open the restaurant door for her then makes a face at my frown. She smells like an ashtray, and I hope she’s not chain-smoking in the house we’re staying at while we’re here since it belongs to the executive of my label. “What?” Kylie snaps under her breath after I tell the hostess we have a reservation for three. “Why do you keep staring at the side of my face like that? You’re making things weird.”
“Thought you said you quit,” I drawl, reminding her of what she’d told me just last week.
Hollowing in her cheeks, she tenses her shoulders but then shrugs. Tugs on the bottom of her sweater that pokes out from beneath her coat. “I leave for vacation in a few days, and I've been stressed.”
Kylie's the only person in the fucking world who'd be stressed about vacationing in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Then again, she doesn't really want to go—no more than I want her to leave me assistant-less for the next several days. She's running away. Terrified because Wyatt will be in Nashville soon and she doesn't trust herself around him. 
The fact my kid sister’s taking off just to put some distance between them makes me fucking hate my bassist. This thing between them has gone on too long, and I'm already anticipating seeing the dumb shit look on his face when he gets to town and realizes she finally figured out she was too good for him. 
Speaking of being too good…
“Do you remember Sienna Jensen?” I demand. 
Kylie stops in the middle of shrugging out of her coat and pops her eyebrows up. “Who?”
“Tall redhead. From a couple of years back.” The sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The one that kept me lying awake in bed more nights than I can count.
Hanging her coat on the back of her seat, Kylie shakes her head. “Sorry, babe, but I'm going to need you to be a little more specific. The description redhead only works for guys who shouldn't own stock in Trojan.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the host coming back to the table with producer of my album following behind me, so I turn to her and say, “Google’s your friend, Ky.”
She's hissing under her breath about how I can choke on a handful of Google as I turn my focus on Kristoff, but I notice she's already pulled out her phone. Kylie’s never liked being left in the dark and not telling her exactly who Sienna is has lit a fire under her ass to figure it out. 
Sure enough, the second Kristoff excuses himself ten minutes later, I feel Kylie's booted toe connect with my shin. “Violence, Ky? I thought you were laying off that, too?”
“You're not bothering that girl again, are you?” Kylie’d been there two years ago when we shot the “All Over You” video. She'd warned me not to get close to Sienna, which is why it's shocking as fuck she doesn't remember the name. I hadn’t listened then, and I already know I won’t listen to whatever advice she gives me now.
“She's Previn’s granddaughter.”
She silently repeats my words. Widens her brown eyes as they sink in. “Lucas--.”
“I don't need your lectures. I just need you to do your job before you take off.” Her lips set into a hard line, but she bobs her head. “I need you to find out whatever you can about her.”
“I wasn't aware you made a career move from rocker to stalker.” She casts a wary glance over my right shoulder, and I know Kristoff is on his way back. I don't care if he hears, though. If it were necessary, I’d tell everyone in this goddamn restaurant that I intend to fulfill every promise I made to Sienna Jensen two years ago before I go back to L.A.
“But,” Kylie continues, breaking me out of my thoughts, “whatever, I'll get you whatever you need.”
“Good, then do as I asked.”
I cock an eyebrow as she shoves away from the table and brushes past me. “Where are you going?” But I don’t even have to look behind me to know she’s headed toward the exit and the first smokers pole she can find.
“De-stressing!”
*
Kylie's up to a whole pack by the next morning when I take a crew over to my new house to discuss plans for renovations. “You're a dick,” she mutters, not once looking up from her tablet at me. “You couldn't have waited to do this once Previn had a chance to move out?”
That had been my plan. I never wanted to hurt Sienna's grandmother, I just wanted the house I bid on and won. But I also know from Kylie's research, Previn’s never at home on Tuesday. If I've played my cards right, though, Sienna will be. Alone. Probably pissed off enough to listen to whatever I’ve got to say.
It doesn't take me long to realize my intuition is right. 
I'm in the middle of telling the contractors that I want the right wing of the house demolished in favor of a recording studio when I see a flash of silky red hair coming around the side of the house. I turn around just as she demands to know what I'm doing here loud enough to shake snow from trees.
When she’s here, in her element, that country twang of hers comes out thicker than ever. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
I can already imagine that voice saying my name. Rasping it. Screaming for more, harder, faster, oh-my-god-so-good. Fighting back my grin, I turn to look at her. And fuck, she truly is something to stare at—even if she does have green shit all over her face. She'd gone the professional, boring route for court yesterday, but today is … interesting. She's poured herself into a pair of tiny blue bottoms that look more like something the girls in my videos would wear than pajamas and a tank top that strains against her tits. Her hair is gathered into a ponytail, and I stuff my hand into my pocket so I won't reach out and tug it loose. Wrap my hands around it. Just like I'll do once she's arching beneath me. 
She moves her lush pink lips, silently asking why I'm here again. 
There's so much I want to say. 
Because I want to be able to say I can't get enough of you. 
Because of that look in your eyes, Sienna. You want me just as much as I want you. 
Because … that ass. In those shorts. 
A smile curves my lips, and I settle on pointing out that she's still here too, keeping an element of surprise in my voice even though I would've bet money on her staying until her grandmother is settled into a new place. Sienna seems like that type. A nurturer. Light and untainted with her heart on her sleeve. Makes me even more desperate to have her.  
She crosses her arms over her chest and sucks in her cheeks then verifies my thoughts with a single question. “Why would I leave?” 
“Maybe because the judge said this place is mine.”
And that's what starts the argument. At some point, I tell the contractors and Kylie to fuck off because I can't think clearly when Sienna’s in my face letting me know just what a bastard I am. Now that? That is surprising. Something has changed in this woman since I met her two years ago. Her skin still lights up the second my eyes meet hers—and I'm dying to know how far down that delicious blush goes—but she no longer looks away, no longer lets her words fade away when she’s speaking to me. No, she meets me head on now, hurling her accusations at me full-force and getting my cock harder and harder by the second. 
What the fuck is wrong with me? Wanting this woman more just because she's pointing out that she wouldn't be shocked if I put a stripper pole in her grandmother’s living room. 
Suddenly, I can't keep my hands to myself. I've got her in my arms, trapping her against the door to my new basement. She lets out a minty breath that I draw in once, twice, then a third time because I've never been good at stopping while I'm ahead. She's trembling. Shaking from head to toe and my belly tightens with need. 
Hell, I don't think I've ever needed a woman like this. 
I lower my mouth to her ear, breathing in a new scent. Apples. Forbidden fruit that I'm foaming at the mouth to pluck. “Do you really think I'm that classless to put a pole in my living room?”
She melts against me and demands to know the same question Kylie’d asked a little while ago: why I couldn’t have waited to bring the contractors out?
Because of you, Sienna.
And then she tells me how I don’t stand a chance because of who I am.
*
“I've got an idea,” I tell Kylie a few hours later when I find her in the downstairs music room of our rental. I sit behind the piano, and she shoots me a glare out of the corner of her eye.
She sets her guitar aside. “That sounds so … Grinchy.”
The look I give her is so fierce, she swallows hard. “I promise you, my heart is in the right place.”
“Right. If your heart is below your belt.” I ignore that last taunt, tapping my fingers on the leg of my jeans as I wait for her to listen. When she relents, leaning back in her chair and holding her hands up questioningly, I say, “I can find a new house.”
“Meaning?”
“I want to give Previn her house back.”
Kylie close her eyes for a moment. Squeezes the bridge of her nose. Grits her teeth until they sound like they’re about to break. “Lucas,” she breathes, “I would totally buy that if you hadn't just spent so much time fighting for that house. You said it made you want to write. You said it made—”
“It makes me want other things,” I say sharply, an image of red hair and big blue eyes in my head.
Kylie’s eyes snap open. “So let me get this straight. You want to give her house back to impress Sienna?”
“I want to give the house back to get Sienna.”
Kylie’s face goes blank. “And what if she doesn't want to be got?”
“That sentence sounded all sorts of fucked-up,” I drawl, earning a flash of middle finger. “What I'm saying is this: I'm in need of an assistant for the next ten days while you're gone, and it just so happens Sienna will be in town.   
It takes my sister a long pause to figure out exactly what I'm saying, and when she does, her mouth drops open. “Don’t start,” I say, but she’s already on her feet, hands on her hips.
“I sure as hell don’t plan to stop! You should be ashamed of yourself. You want to use the house as leverage against this girl to get her in your bed?”
“She doesn’t have to get in my bed.” But Kylie doesn’t look convinced. The truth is, I figure that Sienna will take my offer and end up in my bed. I don't have to propose that she fuck me for the house, and I wouldn’t. I want so much more than that from her. But the desire was there, burning as hot as her anger, and I know it's just a matter of time before I have her. If this plan gets me where I want to be quicker, though, I’m all in.
Kylie's lips curl, like she's just tasted acid, and I know she’s disgusted with me. I should care. I should care what my family thinks about me, but I'm selfish. All I can think about now is myself, how much I thought of Sienna over the past couple of years, how much I've regretted letting her go. I'm not doing it again. I don't care if I’m wasting money—God knows I’ve spent more on Sam and her crazy shit—I want Sienna.
“You're like a child,” Kylie grinds out, but I shrug.
“And you're running away to New Orleans instead of facing Wyatt.”
It’s a low blow and she lifts a hand, like she wants to hit me, but then she clenches them and looks away from me. “What do you want me to do”
“I need you to get her to talk to you. Let her know I want to do this for her in exchange for her working for me for ten days.”
Her lips fall open again, but she doesn’t say anything, leaving the words hanging in the air. Finally, she shakes her head and rakes her hands through her blue and black hair. “Are you planning on hurting this girl again?”
There’s so much I want to do to Sienna. Possess her, feel her beneath me, twist my hands through her red hair, but I don't want to hurt her. At least not in the way Kylie thinks. The hurt I want to give will take Sienna’s breath away. Leave her coming back for more.
Studying my grin, Kylie lets out a growl and stalks toward the doorway. “Fine, I'll talk to her. I'm not going to pressure her, but I will talk to her. And you know what? You need fucking therapy.”

That's an understatement if I ever heard one.

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