Page 68 of Last First Kiss
He slid down her body, reached for a condom from the bedside table, and before she’d had a chance to recover he was inside of her. This time he didn’t do it slowly, but this time she didn’t really need it slow. She was so wet and ready there was no pain or discomfort. A little soreness from the previous night, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
“You okay?” he asked hoarsely before he began to move.
“Yes.”
Again, he grabbed the headboard and used it as it leverage to move in and out.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, and she complied. For a moment she felt insecure that he had to guide her, but there was no denying that he was enjoying this. He was getting as much pleasure as she was. So she shoved that feeling down and focused on the now. If he was willing to teach her, she’d be happy to learn.
She used all her strength to push up as he pushed down. “Holy fuck! What are you doing?” he groaned. “Get there, now. I’m going to come.”
Whatever she’d done he liked it, so she squeezed him harder using all her muscles to move, his neck muscle tensed, and a vein on his forehead throbbed as she felt herself lose all control and everything except the perfect moment right in front of her melted away.
He pulled away and rolled over to his back. “Jesus Christ!” he rubbed his face with his palm. “Are you okay?”
“Better than okay.”
“Be right back.” He hopped off the bed and a moment later he was back. “I was too rough.”
“It was fine. I was fine.”
“I can’t get enough of you. I know you think I’m just saying that, but I’m not.” He turned to her and gathered her in his arms. “From the moment I saw you, Annabelle. The instant I laid eyes on you, it was like a punch in the fucking gut.”
“Really? I mean, you’re Rocco Monroe. I’ve been watching you in movies for years. This unattainable man. This is crazy. You and me? These things just don’t happen.”
“But you’ve never treated me like Rocco Monroe. I think that’s what I like most about you. To you, I’m just a guy. A job. You’re not trying to impress me. You’re just being yourself.”
“I can be difficult.”
“I know.”
“And crude.”
“I know that too.”
“And hardheaded and bitchy and—”
“Nothing you’re going to say is going to turn me off, crazy. So let’s just roll with it, okay? Outside this room you can be all those things. But here in my bed in my arms, I want this Annie. The real one, the one who bares herself to me.”
She let out a deep breath. Could she do that? Could she put it all on the line for him?
She didn’t know the answer to those questions, but God, did she want to try.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rumor has it that Julia Vega has demanded that three assistants accompany her to the undisclosed set every day. She has also requested that Marco Rimmel, master chef of the stars, cater all her meals while on production. Her masseuse and life coach are also with her. Her co-stars are unhappy about her behavior and there have been a lot of tense moments on set. A fistfight between Vega and Monroe’s new girl didn’t help ease the situation . . .
The next day when they both exited the car, he came up to her and took her hand in his. It still made her feel weird, as if now everyone would know they were sleeping together.
“I don’t give a fuck who knows about us,” he said, tightening his grip as she tried to pull away.
“I’m your bodyguard. Imagine the fake fistfight this will cause me and Julia.”
He laughed. “Fine. But you’re also my girlfriend, so get used to this because I’m handsy.” He kissed her cheek as they walked.
Girlfriend?
Why did that set her heart aflutter?
