Page 101 of Rockstar Next Door Neighbor

“Let’s go,” I murmur, tightening my hold on her waist. She nods.

We make our goodbyes quick, and just like that, we slip out of the ballroom and into the night.

The moment the limo door closes.

I don’t even think—I just grab her.

I pull Lila onto my lap, finally able to touch her the way I’ve been wanting to all night.

My hands slide over the silky fabric of her dress, my mouth crashing against hers in a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation.

Lila gasps, herhands flying to my shoulders, but she’s kissing me back, just as hungry, just as reckless.

I drag my lips down her neck, groaning at the way she arches into me, her body pressing against mine—I know she can feel my body harden.

“Do you have any idea,” I growl against her skin, “what this dress has been doing to me?” My hands find the slit in her dress, sliding up her thigh.

She gasps. “Luke—the driver—“

“Privacy partition,” I remind her, nipping at her pulse point. “And I’ve been going crazy wanting to touch you all night.”

My hand continues searching, fingers teasing beneath the slit of her dress, and she makes a soft, breathy sound that goes straight to my damn groin.

The ride is torture of the sweetest kind. Her hair falls from its elegant style as my fingers tangle in it. When I find her dampness under her dress, she bites my shoulder to stay quiet, and I nearly lose my mind.

“Almost there,” I promise, my voice rough with need. “Damn, you’re beautiful like this.”

“Luke—“

The car slows.

A sharp knock against the divider.

I curse, pressing my forehead against hers as I try to catch my breath.

“We’re almost there, Mr. Sterling,” the driver announces quietly.

Lila laughs, breathless, her lips swollen from my kisses.

I grin, dark and dangerous, adjusting my hold on her hips.

Oh, baby,“ I murmur, my voice a promise, “It’s going to be a long night.”

We barely manage to straighten ourselves before reaching the hotel.

As I take her hand and turn.

“Wait,” she gasps. “Your award.”

Reaching into the back seat, I scoop up the gilded gramophone, clutching it tightly in my hand before slamming the limo door shut.

“Thank you.”

If I thought the limo ride was bad. The elevator is even worse—we stand on opposite sides, both knowing one touch will undo all our restraint.

Lila stands beside me, her arms crossed, her chest rising and falling too fast, her entire body wired with tension.

I can still taste her, still feel the way she melted against me in the back of that limo.

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