She squealed as I pulled her on top of me. “I haven’t kissed you since Sinclair interrupted us,” I said, brushing my thumb over the peach bloom of her cheek.
She bit her bottom lip and I rolled us over so she was beneath me. I liked it better this way. I got the feeling that if I let her slip out of my grasp for even a second, I’d never see her again. I dipped my head and her sweet breath hit my lips just before I pressed my mouth to hers. I couldn’t help but groan. I’d been waiting for this since she’d left my bed. It was as if there’d been leftover cheesecake in the fridge and I’d been denying myself. But no more.
Her tongue met mine; her little sharp breaths telling me she enjoyed this almost as much as I did. She parted her legs and I ground my crotch against her pussy. I’d had a hard-on whenever I thought about this girl—just touching her was going to drive me to the brink sooner than I’d like.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” I choked out as I pulled away and dove toward her neck, sucking and licking. I wanted to devour her.
“I don’t feel sweet when you kiss me like that.”
I growled. “What do you feel?” I asked, dropping kisses from her neck down to her collarbone and over the top of her breasts. I wanted to strip her naked, place her on all fours and plow into her right there.
“Hot. Sexy. Like you own me.”
“Fuck,” I said, thrusting once, twice, then rolling off.
I pulled her toward me. “You’re going to make me come if I’m not careful.”
“Really?” she asked. “Is that a problem?” Her eyes narrowed as she waited for my answer.
I chuckled. “Not normally. But with you? Fuck, yes.”
She grinned. “So, if I touch you . . .” She reached for my shorts and I caught her hand before she could make contact. The last thing I wanted to do was blow my load after a kiss. I had a reputation to live up to.
“Let’s not find out.” I linked my hands with hers.
“I think that would be a story I could sell to the tabloids.”
I sighed. “Worse has been said about me by much less believable sources.”
“God, I’m sorry. I was kidding.” She pulled away, but I held her tight.
“Don’t be. I made a lot of poor decisions a while back.” I paused. If she didn’t know what a fuckup I’d been, did I want to tell her? I did. I wanted her to see everything—the real me. Because I wanted the same in return. “I got out of control, too much partying, too much booze, too many . . .”
“Women.” It wasn’t a question or a judgement. Just a statement of understanding.
“Yes. A beautiful woman was always my drug of choice. Along with a lot of booze. Apparently, even as a kid, I preferred the company of women. But before I got to Hollywood, I’d always put work first.”
“Did you end up in rehab?” she asked, her hand pressing into my chest as she pushed herself up to look at me.
I shook my head. “Nope. I wasn’t addicted to alcohol. I think I got what I’d been aiming for and then wondered if that’s still what I wanted. The partying was a way of distracting myself. I lost focus, forgot who I was and where I was from.”
“And your focus is back?”
“I remembered I’m my dad’s son. The parties, the women, the false friends all crumble under the scrutiny of my father’s gaze.”
Lana frowned. I guess I wasn’t making much sense.
“He and my mother came to visit me one day, and I’d totally forgotten they were coming. I hadn’t been home for days. When I wasn’t at my house, he turned up on set and I was drunk.” I sucked in a breath. “I saw myself reflected in his disappointment and I didn’t like it. So, that was it.”
“Just like that you turned over a new leaf?”
“More like I went back to my old leaf—driven, focused, hard working.”
She laughed. “Oh, I got it. Hollywood almost seduced you but you escaped her clutches.”
I chuckled. “A little bit.” It was a good way to describe it. I’d been lucky. Many people weren’t.
“You worried you might stumble again?”
I shook my head and pulled her toward me. “I’m really not. Others around me are. Hence Sinclair bursting in to my house unannounced. But I know I’d never go back there. It’s not what I want for my life.
“What about you?” I was desperate to know her deepest secrets. I wanted to know everything. “Are men your drug of choice?”
She sighed. “Not really. I like to avoid drama, complications . . .”
“Life?”
“Just the downside of it.”
“Is that possible?”
“I’ll let you know. Or maybe you’ll let me know.” She twisted her head and rested her chin on my chest. “Life’s pretty peachy for you, no?”
I shrugged. Life was good. But lately, I’d been getting the sense that it wasn’t just the franchise that I wanted. That there must be something that came after that. “I work hard, and as much as I enjoy acting, I know my time is limited. There’s a lot of pressure attached to being the man of the moment—I can’t put a foot wrong because it could all disappear tomorrow. I’m not ready for that yet.”
“Because you love what you do?”
“Because I want to be successful. I see it as a means to an end. I want my family not to have to worry financially. My brothers don’t earn a lot—none of us went to college. I want their kids—and mine if I ever have them—to have college funds and down payments for a first home. Life should be easier for the next generation, you know?”
I glanced down to find her gazing at me as if I were either crazy or fascinating. “Anyway, enough about me. You’ve got me revealing all my secrets. And we’re getting far too serious.”
“I like serious,” she said without missing a beat. “It’s real.”
She was right. Our talks today were the most honest conversations I’d had in a long time. I thought about these things. A lot, while running and when deciding to do one project or another—when agreeing to pretend Audrey Tanner was my girlfriend. But I’d never told anyone what I’d shared with Lana.
“Shall we walk down to the ocean?” she asked, sitting up.
“If you promise to let me kiss you at the water’s edge,” I replied.
She patted my chest. “If there’s no one around, I just might. You sure can kiss, Mr. Movie Star.”
Mr. Movie Star. It rang in my ears. She didn’t mean it to be deferential or to feed my ego. She was teasing me. And that was what I liked about her.
She stood, rearranging her skirt and lifting her hair to feel the breeze on her neck. Lana Kelly didn’t treat me as if I was famous. She didn’t care that I was famous. And she’d heard about my failures and seemed to like me anyway. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come across a woman like her.
Lana
“This lobster is delicious.” I closed my eyes as I chewed, savoring the sweet seafood that had been included in our beach picnic.
“Well, we are in Maine. What did you expect?” Matt answered.
“And you just made a call and someone delivered the car with the food in the trunk all refrigerated and everything?” Matt had been clear that he couldn’t take any credit for the magnificent spread—there was enough to feed six. It tasted like it was fresh from the sea this morning.