Give him bedroom eyes.

How do I give bedroom eyes? God. What am I doing? He's used to supermodels and way more experienced girls. WHAT AM I DOING?

But something's working because he's breathing faster now, and it gives me the boost of confidence I need. I let my shorts fall the rest of the way to the floor and step out. His gaze lingers over my body, dragging spikes of anticipation up and down my skin.

"Get over here." He yanks me over to him and dips his head toward mine.

But I put a finger to his lips before they reach my mouth. "Your turn. Fair's fair."

I pull his shirt over his head. And then stop dead in my tracks.

"Holy shit." I trail a finger down his chest and stomach, my mouth curving when he takes a short, sudden breath. His skin is smooth, his body lithe and toned. Which, of course, is nice, but his abs... His abs blow right past a six-pack into something more like ten. From a distance, they made me want to lick him. Up close, they make me want to do a hell of a lot more than that. "How is this even possible?"

He grins, cocky as hell. "You like?"

"Very, very much so." I take another step away, pointing at his sweatpants. "These need to go."

"Sweats won't give quite the same show coming off as your shorts did."

I laugh. "I've seen you strut onstage. You could make a dirty rag look sexy."

"So you like it dirty?" He cocks a brow and every nerve under my skin begins to tingle.

Keep it cool. "Stop stalling."

"Believe me, babe. I'm not stalling anything." And down go his sweats, revealing green boxers and he stands there, so unbelievably hot I can't stop swallowing because saliva makes a river in my mouth.

It doesn't seem fair to the rest of the girls in the world. I've gone from Cassidy, responsible junior in college who's had a few unremarkable boyfriends along the way, to Cassidy, a girl who finds herself surrounded by the sexiest guys who do the sexiest things... Like right now. Luca prowls toward me, slow and sleek, like a leopard stalking pray... Stalking me.

I back up, unable to fight a grin, until his bed hits the backs of my legs.

"Nowhere to go now," he says, and I shiver at the promise in his words. He pushes my shoulders down until I'm sitting and slides the straps of my bra down my arms till my breasts are free. Smoothly, with one hand, he reaches around to unhook it the rest of the way, and then he crawls over top of me, pushing me onto my back, his voice growing husky. "I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you."

He dips his head to my neck, his lips traveling like silk across my collarbone and down my chest until he captures a nipple in his mouth, his warm, velvety mouth. The tip of his tongue teases me, working back and forth across my tender skin. A noise I don't recognize hums in the back of my throat.

He holds himself above me, leaning on an elbow, and his free hand, oh, his free hand...it skims all over my body. Down my stomach, around my back to make it arch, across my hips. He peels my panties down to my knees and traces the inside of a thigh, slowly and teasingly in looping circles, up, up, up until he's exactly where I ache for him to be.

"You're so wet," he says, his voice heavy with need. A pleased little hum thrums in his throat as he touches me. Unbidden, Gage comes to mind, and how ready he always found me, too, and the way I'm responding to Luca feels like a betrayal even worse than the first. But then Luca's sliding his fingers inside of me, and I forget about everything other than the way he works them against me.

He's unexpectedly gentle, his fingers coaxing me so there's a slow, sweet build of heat under my skin traveling down, down, down. Hotter. Heavier. My breath comes in gasps and I'm grabbing out at the sheets, weaving them through my hands. My hips start to roll with the rhythm he's stroking, and that languid heat in my belly bursts into something more intense.

I need more. So much more.

I moan his name and let my own hand travel down the warm, tight skin of his chest until it slides over the soft fabric of his boxers. He's hard. Ready. I pull him out of his shorts and shift further under him, working my hand along him until he's moaning, too.

I slide beneath him, wanting to feel his full weight above me, needing that solidness. The scent of him, that spiced vanilla aroma, is everywhere, everywhere. His mouth glides across my breasts and up my neck and along my jaw until I'm turning my face to meet his lips with my own, still needing more. Needing more. Needing more.

My mind is so close to going blank. So, so close.

I work my lips along his jaw and glide my tongue across his neck-making him shudder-to taste the sweet saltiness of his skin, only for a moment before he captures my mouth again with his own.

"Luca," I whisper his name a second time, against his kiss. "Do you have a-"

He shushes me and pulls himself, smoothly, from my grasp. "I want you on my tongue, first."

His words jolt through me, filling me with a tension that leaves me quivering-and then his lips are on my stomach, his tongue tracing a line of velvet down my skin. His breath fluctuates from warm to cool, raising goose bumps along my flesh. Lower, and lower, he nips at me until the wetness of his mouth is directly between my legs.

His tongue sweeps across me, unhurried and smooth. His hands splay across my ribs, and as he burrows his tongue deeper, deeper, that pressure in my belly heats until it's sparking, sparking, sparking. I plead to him, but I don't know for what. All I know is that I never want him to stop and I'm twisting, turning, overcome with rushing sensation after sensation until my body is nothing more than a pulsing, arching, begging space of pleasure.

I have no chance to come back to my senses before he's working his mouth up my body until it finds mine. There's the briefest break as he reaches across the bed to a drawer in his nightstand and then, lips back on mine, he slips on a condom. One more slight pause, in which I have to bite my tongue to keep from begging, as he pulls away, over me, to study my face. I don't know what he sees, I can't control my expression-I can't control anything at this point, my body is a bundle of hot, sweet nerves-but he gives a small pleased shake of his head and-oh, finally-lowers himself into me.

Sweet and slow, trailing kisses along my neck. Again, he's gentler than I expect.

But I need more than gentleness. I need my mind to go blank.

I push against him with my hips, harder and faster, watching the concentration in his expression unravel, until he matches me, force for force. Smoothly, he rolls under me, letting me take the lead. Straddling him, I pause, just to take in the expression on his face-to watch as desire darkens into something almost dangerous-and then I begin to rock my hips over him. His hands slide up to my breasts, his thumbs working over my nipples, and I lean back to grip his thighs, taking him in even deeper than before.

"Oh, God, yes." He speaks the words, but they're mine, as well.

His hands trail lower, kneading at my skin, and then he's using his fingers against me again, and I find myself about to tip over the edge.

So close, so close.

My entire body is humming, vibrating.

"Cassidy. Come." His demand is a raspy whisper and I do exactly as he requests. I lose control, completely, to the thrills pummeling through me. His entire body tightens and I shudder above him, my head dropping back, slack with the heat rushing through my veins. It centers into my belly and braids into waves of hot pleasure, spiraling all the way through my body.

I come completely, deliciously undone.

After, still quivering with fading echoes of pleasure, I slide down next to Luca, breathless.

"This," he says with a devilish grin, "was definitely worth the early wake up."

I'd agree, but I have no breath.

We lie together for a few minutes in silence. He watches me. I watch the ceiling, unable to meet his eyes quite yet. I can't believe I just slept with Luca James.

I can't believe how badly I already want to do it again.

His sheets are soft against my skin, and they smell like Luca, sweet and spicy. I have a sudden urge to roll through them until they've draped my entire body in their delicate silkiness. Or maybe that's just the way Luca's trailing his fingers along the skin of my stomach. With delicate silkiness. Craving rouses in my blood.

As if he can read my mind-or perhaps, just my body-his touch turns forceful, pressing into my skin, twisting in circles and in other ways that have my pulse flying.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

"Not even a little." My body is stirring all over again.

"Good girl." He trails a finger between my legs, touching me so, so lightly, and it comes away slick. He licks it, slowly, dragging his finger across his lips, and I almost lose it at the desire in his eyes.

Another reach over to the nightstand and a moment later, with a rough little bite against my lower lip, he's back above me, pressing me down into the bed. I wrap my legs around him and he slams back inside of me. There's no gentleness this time. Just skin shoved against skin until we're both a little raw.

In the absolute best way.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

At some point I must fall asleep, because there's a jolt beneath me and I wake with a start on the edge of the bed. I roll over, automatically seeking Gage, but it's Luca staring back at me.

Luca.

Not Gage.

I wish regret weren't such a strong force between my ribs.

"How long..." I pause to clear the sleep from my throat and notice the gentle bumping of the bed beneath me. "We're already on the road?"

He nods. "We left about an hour ago."

"An hour?" I need to stop stating the obvious, but I'm a little confused. I slept through the bus leaving? I sit up, but the motion beneath me makes me dizzy for a split second. It's weird, falling asleep stationary and waking up moving along a potholed road. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."

"You look... Are you having doubts?"

"No!" But the truth is, I wish it were Gage lying next to me. God. I miss him already. He must hate me now, and the knowledge of it makes my chest hurt. And what I did before falling asleep with Luca? That pounded the nail into the coffin. No pun intended.

I stretch my arms overhead and roll my neck as though there are kinks to work out, just needing the excuse to turn my face from Luca's gaze. I have to get it together.

But later, when I shower, a few of my tears swim down the drain with the rest of the water.

This is it, though, I promise myself, leaning my head against the tiles lining the wall. Yes, it hurts. But I'm a big girl and I made my decision and the point of leaving was to avoid pain. For both of us.

Gage will be okay. And I will be, too.

I will be.

I mean, I'm on the road with a freaking rock star. One who just rocked the hell out of my body.

Good God. Not that I was a complete virgin before this summer or anything, and it's not like I haven't enjoyed sex before, but I could kind of take it or leave it. Now, though? Between Gage and Luca, I finally understand what all the fuss is about. Knowing that Luca's waiting outside the door, ready to take me back for another round, is almost enough to snap me out of the dampness of my mood.

Luca, actually, isn't waiting outside the bathroom door. I find him back on the first level, whipping up the French toast he promised earlier.

"I totally thought you'd burn the bus down if you tried to cook," I admit, slipping behind him and running my hands across the ridges along his stomach-something I could do all day, every day.

He turns, ducking down for a quick kiss and then giving me a little shove toward the booth across the aisle, where I see a platter already set up with syrup and butter and utensils. "I make a few things very well. French toast is one."

I take a seat and he brings over a plate stacked high with fluffy, coated bread. There's a smear of powdered sugar across his upper lip. I wipe it away with my thumb and am about to lick it off, but he beats me to it, taking the pad of my finger in his mouth, sliding his tongue along it.

He laughs at whatever he sees in my expression. "Do you want breakfast or do you want me?"

"C. All of the above."

"Good." He rocks on his toes a little, like he's excited, which makes me smile. "Me, too."

But after we eat, he wants to work out. Which means I'll be left alone with my thoughts. Which is a bit scary.

"Where?" I ask.

"There's a space with weights next to the bedroom." He shoves away from the table, his plate still mostly full. "Help yourself to anything, okay? Mi casa es su casa. Or bus, whatever."

I laugh because he seems so jittery, like he's so full of energy-and I wonder if there's any way I'm the cause of it. He treats me to a quick kiss with a chuckle of his own and leaves me at the table. I sit still for a moment, taking it all in.

Luca James's tour bus. Who ever would've thought I'd end up here? Certainly not me.

I take a few more bites and then clear our dishes to the sink. Because, you know, what bus is complete without a kitchen sink?

I meander through the bus, amazed at how easily my system's adjusted to the perpetual motion. Eventually, I make my way to the bar area on the second level, taking a seat at one of the stools by the counter. There are two taps for beer, and I wonder if they're already stocked. A drink might help to calm my nerves and keep my regrets at bay-but it's just too early in the day for me to justify it. Instead I text Teagan and Vera, asking them how the hotel party was. Smiling when I add, as though it's an afterthought, Oh, by the way, I'm texting you from Luca's tour bus.

Teagan calls me immediately, demanding details. She proceeds to lecture me for going off this way while in the exact same breath telling me how unbelievably jealous she is.

"Well now you just sound like Vera," I tell her, spinning in my seat.

"Oh yeah," she says, laughing. "Is she even talking to you anymore, now that you've run off with the love of her life?"

"I'm here with her blessing," I assure her, hoping it's actually true. Vera told me to go for it with Luca, not necessarily to go with him. "Or I will be, when she finds my note."

"You didn't even talk to her before you left?"

Guilt makes me pause before answering. I didn't speak with her this morning. It was so early when I stopped by to pack a few of my things, and Jared's yellow Hummer (God, so ugly) was out front... I didn't want to wake her-and I didn't want to deal with him. So I left a note on the counter.

When I hang up with Teagan, after promising to say hello to Norris and his wife, if she's around, I check my text messages, but there's nothing from Vera. Not in response to the note I left and not in response to my text. A little flutter of concern runs through me. And then I forget all about it because I discover I do have a missed text.

From Gage.

Jesus, Cassidy. A note?

My heart wrenches and drops with a thud into my stomach. I hate myself. And I miss him. But I can't tell him that. So I respond the only way I can. I'm sorry. And I don't hear from him again.

The trip to Nashville is over nine hours. And I can tell Luca's confused as to why I avoid touching him the rest of the trip, but he doesn't comment on it other than to ask if I'm all right. I nod and tell him the motion of the bus is unsettling. We leave it at that.

When we arrive, he's thrown into pre-show madness, and I'm left mostly to myself. He tells me to meet him in his dressing room before the show, but there's some sort of mix-up. I'm not allowed past arena security, and Luca doesn't answer my phone calls. Marx finds me right as the opening act plays their first set. Instead of taking me to Luca, he leads me to my seat. And then, being Marx, leaves me by myself.

Great way to kick off this whole going-on-tour decision.

Granted, my seat is in a suite. A glass-lined box above the crowd, giving me an amazing view of the stage. Giving me an amazing view of Luca. It's just not the same, though, enjoying his performance alone. I miss Teagan and Vera.