Oh God, they’d found her.
Whether it was her family or the paparazzi barely mattered. All that mattered was that the little cocoon of safety she’d sewn herself into for the past twenty-four hours was about to be ripped apart.
She hadn’t yet made any big decisions, but at least she had started to feel as if every stitch she put on the tourist clothes she’d picked up at the general store was helping to stitch her back together, little by little. Of course she wasn’t planning to sit in this motel room forever, but after five crazy years, was it really too much to ask for a handful of days of peace and quiet? A few moments to actually sit down and plan how she was going to deal with what had happened?
As the knocking came again, even more insistently, she realized she was standing frozen in place on the threshold between the bathroom and bedroom. Maybe she should be looking for an escape route. Maybe she should be checking to see if she could fit through the window above the shower. But as panic rapidly bore down on her at the thought of walking right back into her reality-star life, she couldn’t figure out how to make herself unfreeze.
“It’s me.”
The world’s biggest dose of relief flooded her as she recognized that voice. The only one she actually wanted to hear right now.
“Rosa, are you in there? It’s Drake.”
Just like that, her feet came unstuck. She didn’t think as she headed across the bedroom, couldn’t have stopped herself from opening the door even if she had been able to think clearly. And ohhh, was he ever a gorgeous sight to behold as he stood in the rain on her room’s second-floor landing.
“Rosa.”
All he said was one perfect, sweet word, drenched in need—and then his mouth was on hers before she could take her next breath.
His kiss was utterly unexpected. Took her completely by surprise.
And was glorious.
She’d never wanted a kiss this badly. Never wanted anyone’s arms around her so much. Never been so desperate to know another’s taste and to share hers.
Somewhere in her haze of pleasure, she felt him move them both far enough into the room to slam the door behind him, but then all she could feel was Drake.
His mouth was as hot as his wet clothes were cold against her skin, bared completely now because the towel had fallen down around her feet while they kissed. Somehow, though his hands were also wet, they were warm and so wonderfully big and strong as they moved down her back from shoulder to hip, then down even further to cup her bottom so that she could wrap her legs around him as they both tried to erase any space between them.
He answered her gasps of pleasure with a low groan of desire, and it was hands down the sexiest sound she’d ever heard in her life. She wanted to fall into the bed with him and never leave it. Wanted to drown in his touch, in his kisses, and never resurface back to “real” life where she couldn’t ever let herself fall in love with a sweet and sexy painter.
Unfortunately, that one thought about real life was all it took to drag her back into it.
No. No. Not now. Not yet. Why did she have to start thinking?
Why did she have to remember that she couldn’t do this with him?
Why couldn’t she have stayed in a blissful haze long enough to make love with him?
Why couldn’t she let herself have at least one good thing come out of all this pain?
But she knew why—knew the answer to every single question.
She couldn’t hurt him. Couldn’t drag him into her mess. She’d seen enough of his talent to be certain that he was a well-respected artist. But if they hooked up and anyone ever found out? If she let herself have this taste of him and then wasn’t strong enough to let go afterward?
Just like that, his reputation would go down the drain.
All because Rosa was the world’s biggest reality TV joke...and he was a good man who should never have made the mistake of getting involved with her.
Somehow, she made herself draw back from his mouth. At least, she almost did—she couldn’t resist swooping in to lick over his lips one last time. One last taste of heaven before she made herself untangle her arms and legs from his, pick up her towel from the floor, wrap it tightly around herself, and steel herself to say the four most difficult words in the world.
“We can’t do this.”
“We can.”
He followed up his statement by dragging her close for another kiss that felt just as inevitable as their first, but that didn’t mean she could let it spiral any further. Somehow, some way, she needed to stop this glorious, all-consuming madness—even if it was the very last thing she wanted.
She tore her mouth from his, still gripping her towel for dear life. “Drake.”
The desire in his dark eyes stole what was left of her breath. “Rosa.”