Raura Larano/Auslly Moonson/Sharie Larano Smut

Guitar Pt.2 [Raura]

I turned to look He stepped in, amusement on his face, a bottle of water in his hand, nothing but a pair of ripped jeans and sneakers on his body.

He cocked his head to the side. "Laura? What're you doing in my dressing room?"

I exhaled shakily.

"Um, nothing. I -I didn't mean to-" I stop and try again. "I mean, the security guard-" Fuck, come on, Laura, use your words. "Does this place was wifi?"

Dammit, not those words.

One of his eyebrows arch. "Wifi? Yeah, probably." He steps towards me. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

And the fact that you're getting a little closer to me every second is not helping.

I find myself taking a step backwards every time he steps forwards, stumbling over things I can't see because I'm not looking. His gaze is fixated on me, and the corner of his mouth is lifted in a smirk he's trying to hide.

"Ross," I croak when I feel the cool, hard surface of a wall behind me, and see the warm, hard surface of his chest in front of me. I swallow. "I have to... go."

He pouts. "Why?"

I shake my head.

"Lady problems; you wouldn't understa-"

"Don't lie to me, Laura."

He folds his arms over his chest, his muscles rippling in a way that makes me want to beg him to take me. I settle for a mumbled 'sorry' and sidle to the side, making for the door.

He's faster, grabbing my wrist before I've even taken two steps.

He pulls me to face him while I struggle feebly. I look at the ground, scared that if he sees my face, he might guess-

"Tell me what's wrong." he pleads. When I don't answer, he sighs and runs his other hand through his hair. "I looked into the wings after a while. You weren't there." Another pause as he waits for me to reply. I don't. I can't.

"Laura," he says finally, in a stern, frustrated panty-dropping tone. "What is it? What has you all... flustered?"

"You." I manage to say before I can stop myself. I wince, bracing myself for his shock and probable disgust.

"Me," he repeats; not as a question, but as if he's trying to figure out just what I mean.

"You." I say again, a little louder. "It's just... everything about you. The way you talk and walk. Even the way you drink your water." He waits as I pause, waiting for me to say something that makes sense. I don't. I keep my eyes on the high-heels I was wearing.

"I feel like I'm missing something here." he says eventually. His thumb presses against the inside of my wrist, rubbing it in small soothing circles. My teeth wedge into my lip.

"You turn me on, Ross," I say eventually, hating how vulnerable I sound. This is it. No going back now.

He pauses, his thumb stilling. I can feel his eyes on me, practically burning into your skin.

"I turn you on," he repeats. I can hear the smile in his voice. I can feel his finger, under my chin, lifting my face upwards to look at him.

"A little," I whisper so quietly I can barely hear it.

A little.

My absolutely soaked panties begged to differ.

Ross basically turned me into the equivalent of a horny 14-year-old boy, who became instantly aroused whenever anyone did anything sexual.