"All right, River with nowhere to go," I said, abruptly changing the subject. The last thing I wanted to do right now was tell a movie star about the convoluted origins of my name. "Where do you want me to take you?"
"Anywhere you like." I turned to look at her when she said it, her voice husky. Is she hitting on me? Her cheeks reddened, and I realized she was embarrassed.
I couldn’t help feeling like pushing that button more now that I knew what embarrassed her.
"I'll save that for later," I said. "Unless you want me to take you right here, right now." I watched as the red flush grew deeper, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I hid a smile, watching her squirm. She didn’t say anything, and I cleared my throat. "I'm heading home."
When she answered, her voice was hoarse, and the flush was still evident on her face. "Where's home?"
"West Bend, Colorado," I told her. The last place on earth some actress would be interested in going. The fact that she was still sitting in my car made no fucking sense.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay, what?"
"Okay, I'll go with you." She said it matter-of-fact.
"To my fucking house?" I asked.
"Sure."
"Did I ask you to come home with me?" I said. Was this girl crazy? Bringing someone like her back to West Bend? Bringing her back to my house? There was no way short of hell freezing that I was letting her within a hundred yards of my family.
"Oh," she said. She sounded disappointed, and I found myself caring.
Fuck.
"No, I mean, I just assumed you were offering me a ride or something."
Yeah, I thought. Or something, definitely.
My cock was doing all the thinking for me. When I spoke, the words sounded foreign to my ears. “You want to come with me to West Bend?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, grinning wickedly. “I mean, since you’re asking and everything.”
Shit. My cock was definitely doing the thinking here.
My head was back on the head rest, my eyes closed, and I listened to the hum of the car as we drove along the highway. I was in that space between asleep and awake, trying to ignore the thoughts swirling in my head.
Four hours ago, this seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea, driving off with some guy I just met, the same guy who had stuck his tongue down my throat in a hotel hallway.
His tongue.
I could still taste him on my lips. He tasted like whiskey and sex.
What the hell was I thinking, jumping in some guy’s car and going with him to his hometown? I only just learned his name. I knew nothing about him. We had nothing in common-I was sure of that. Two different worlds and all.
This is the dumbest idea ever, River.
And I had done some stupid shit, that was for damn sure.
Viper ran around on me, but it’s not like I’d always been an angel. I went to rehab once, after a bad spell of partying before I was even eighteen. I’d lucked out with a manager who was good with that kind of shit, hired one of those fixers who can manage anything. The fixer got me out of that jam. She was probably busy spinning this one already. I wondered what she was coming up with. Running away in the middle of a movie shoot? Hitching a ride to Colorado with some guy I'd just met?
This wasn't my best moment ever.
But it probably wouldn't be the last stupid, impulsive decision I ever made. In fact, I thought as I looked over at Elias, his gaze fixed straight ahead, I thought, he might be the next stupid impulsive thing I did.
The thought sent immediate warmth radiating to my core.
And just as quickly, I reminded myself that I only just left my fiancé. My boyfriend of three years. In Hollywood years, that was a fucking lifetime.
Of course, he was the one with his cock in my sister’s throat. And it had been months since we had sex, since he touched me in any way, shape, or form. That wasn’t by my choice. He blamed it on his “art,” this new album he was doing that he wanted to “channel his energy” into.
When the car came to a stop again, I was jerked out of my thoughts.
“Pit stop,” Elias said.
"Duct tape and rope?" I asked, grinning.
"How'd you know?" he asked. "It was going to be a secret surprise." He got out of the car, and as I opened the car door, caught the handle. He reached for my hand as I slid out of the seat.
"Come on, now," he said. "Don't tell me those Hollywood boys aren't into opening car doors for you."
"Not really."
"Damn shame," he said. He walked quickly, and I found myself a step behind him on the way toward the store, distracted by looking at his ass. Then I noticed his gait was slightly unsteady, but before I could think about what that meant, he turned his head.
“Looking at something?” he asked. His voice had the same light-hearted tone as before, but there was an edge to it this time.
Your ass, I wanted to say. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t open my mouth. I shook my head, suddenly mute.
A dark look crossed his face. “My leg?” he asked.