I slid a hand up his arm and gave a squeeze against his rock-hard bicep. “You must have wanted to drink all the time.”
That made him snicker, but I was feeling a bit swoony from the bulging muscle under my palm. Jesus. I wouldn’t have ever thought it was possible for Trip to get any more gorgeous. Goes to show you never know. I hoped he’d maxed out on his hotness level. I didn’t think I could take it if he kicked it up another notch.
I was knocked out of my wandering thoughts when he said, “I had to audition for Unleaded, you know.”
The way he said it made me think that he was embarrassed. I’d heard Unleaded was an incredible film, and of course I knew that Trip was a member of the cast. But I guessed it was hard for him not only to take on a mere supporting role, but to have to audition just to get the part. He’d already long surpassed that point in his career. It probably sucked to have to take such a huge step backwards. “Well, whatever you had to do to get the part, it was worth it. You were nominated for that one.”
He let out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I know. And thank God for that. I mean, I put it all out there. If it bombed, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”
I suddenly felt really awful that I hadn’t seen it. It was his comeback film, and from all reports, he was amazing in it. I realized I suddenly had a lot of movies to watch in the following days. Time to catch up.
“Well,” I started in, leaning against his side, “I’d like to think you’d be sitting on a wall with the love of your life.”
That made his face split into a wide grin, the dimple in his left cheek more prominent than ever. He kissed me then, those sweet lips brushing softly against mine, his hand under the hair at my nape. My stomach actually flipped at the contact. God. Would I ever get used to kissing this man? Would there ever be a day when I wouldn’t fall apart from his touch?
He pulled his lips back, but pressed his forehead against mine. “Hey Lay? I hate to cut our evening short, but I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with the pre-prod for a new movie.”
I’d hardly call midnight “cutting the evening short,” but maybe that’s just because I wasn’t in my twenties anymore. I reluctantly pulled out of his grasp and let him help me down from the wall.
*
Trip pulled the Porsche into the lot at the TRU and cut the engine. I was pretty impatient during the ride down from the observatory. It wasn’t an incredibly long trek, but if I didn’t get that man in bed soon, I thought I’d pass out from wanting.
Trip must have been feeling it, too. He turned to me and said, “This is ridiculous, Lay. I’m checking you out of here. I know you said a few days, but I want you with me now. You’re staying with me.” He put a hand at my neck and pulled my lips to his. In between kisses, he said, “I want to keep my eye on you. And my hands. I want to keep my hands on you, too. And my mouth. Yeah, that too.”
Who was I to argue?
I packed up all my stuff from the suite as Trip stayed downstairs to check me out of the hotel. I was only slightly saddened at having to leave such a beautiful room, but I was more curious and excited to see the home of my beautiful man. I was confident that it—that he—was ready for me.
We hopped back into the Porsche and drove through Benedict Canyon, then wound our way up Mulholland Drive. I could only catch the tiniest glimpses of the houses from the road. Most were completely hidden by large gates or trees. The few homes I could see were pretty freaking impressive, let me tell you.
We finally pulled in front of a large, black, iron gate, and Trip hit a button on the sun visor to open it. He cruised the car up a narrow, winding driveway and suddenly, his house came into view. It was a sprawling stucco ranch with those curved clay tiles on the roof—a California version of an “authentic” Spanish villa—painted tiles around the archways, forged iron fixtures on the heavy wooden doors.
He pulled the Porsche into the huge garage, where I could see a black Jeep, a black pickup truck, and a black… something that I didn’t recognize. “What is that?” I asked. “It’s pretty.”
He got out of the car and came around to my side. “Layla. You don’t call a Maserati ‘pretty.’ It’s a beautiful piece of machinery.”
I was well aware of another beautiful piece of machinery in the garage at that moment. But I put that out of my mind long enough to respond, “It looks like the Batmobile.”
He snickered at that as he closed the garage door and led me into the house. “Wow,” I said. “If your house is as nice as the garage, I think I’m officially astounded.”
He backed me against the closed door and pressed his body full-length against mine. “Oh yeah? Well, wait until I get you to my bedroom, sweetheart. That’ll astound the hell out of you.”
Chapter 15
GIRL PLAY