Page 33 of Hollywood King
I picked my head up again and stared him down. “I’m wearing clothes, you’re wearing clothes, and I am not having sex with you.”
He settled the second foot down on the floor and stood. His hand hovered between us, and I grasped it because he was right. I couldn’t remember the last time I just let someone hold me. And since the moment he asked, I couldn’t stop thinking of just that.
I let him lead me to his bedroom. My heart pounded against my ribs like it tried to run because I wasn’t smart enough to do it. While he wandered into his closet, I explored his room a little. I didn’t get a good look around while I was there the last time. And my anger had kept me from listening to anything he had to say that night.
He returned with a big white t-shirt for me, and he wore a pair of low slung sleep pants. I averted my eyes from his bare chest and turned around. “Can you unzip me, please?”
The zipper descended slowly. So slow, I could feel the heat of his finger trailing through the fabric in front of it. Once he finished, I glanced back. “Turn around, please.”
His smile told me he wanted to comment on the fact he’d seen all I had to offer and more. But he kept his mouth shut, probably—and correctly—assuming I’d walk out if he made any overt passes right now.
I stripped to my panties and pulled the shirt over my head.
He offered me a brown elastic when I turned around. “You left this here last time.”
I gathered my hair into a messy bun and secured it on top of my head. It would be tangled when I washed it tomorrow, but for now, it would hold. “I’m going to wash my face and brush my teeth.”
I went into the bathroom and took care of the basics, taking my time, let him wait. When I came out, he lay back in his bed under the covers on one side. A book curved into his upturned knees. “I didn’t know you read.”
He placed a slip of paper between the pages and put it on the nightstand. “I read a lot, actually.”
“What is that?” I asked when I climbed in next to him.
“A biography of a politician.” He laughed at my wrinkled nose.
Politics were too much like the rise and fall in the hierarchy of Hollywood’s elite. I stayed far away from both if I could help it.
Once I settled onto the pillow, he flipped off the bedroom lights and shifted onto his side to face me. So I also turned and faced the windows. I’d never sleep if he stared at me all night.
Some light filtered in, but not much. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the fact he lay half naked mere inches from me.
Then the heat of him touched my back and legs, and I jerked as he wrapped his arm around my waist. “I’m not trying to pressure you into doing anything. Just trying to help you settle. With us touching, you’ll stop thinking about it.”
I didn’t respond, and after a few seconds, I settled against him letting him draw me in closer. We fit together so perfectly, like we did so many years ago. I couldn’t stop the tears slipping down the side of my face. He didn’t say a word, simply let me cry.
Nothing could touch the well of grief inside me. The years we spent apart we’d never be able to get back. The very different people we’d grown into, and apart from. Nothing could bring that time back. When I finally drew a full breath, the tears slowing somehow, he’d turned me into his arms so my face lay against his bare chest. I used the top sheet to dry him and my face before settling my cheek back against him.
“I’m so-“
“Don’t you dare apologize. Not to me. I should have been there. I should have come back sooner, but with every year that passed, I assumed you wouldn’t want me. Then you had your career, and I couldn’t interrupt your nice stable life with my history.”
I looked up at the slight glisten in his own eyes and knew I couldn’t give him what he wanted. With me, he’d spend the rest of my life taking care of me. The prime years of his life spent between doctor’s appointments, therapy, and medication refills. What a fucking waste.
But I did have something I could give him now. A short time between where we stood and where we would end up. I didn’t think about it longer. I leaned up and pressed my lips gently against his.
He didn’t need encouragement. With one hand, he pulled me in by the waist and the other cupped the back of my head to deepen the contact at our lips. I dove into him, surrendering everything to the onslaught through me his tongue caused as he delved into my mouth. Then he brought me to the surface with a nip of his teeth on my bottom lip.
When he stopped, I tried to drag his face back.
He ran his hand up and down my back, down to my ass and back up to my shoulder blades. “Are you sure you want this?”
I nodded, unable to string together sentences, and jerked his face back to mine. We ignited together, his lips mashed into mine, and my fingers clutched tight into his curls. He rolled us over and released me so he could press down on top of me.
Reality set in, and I braced my hands on his chest to push him back. “We are not having sex.”
He grinned, his face an inch from mine. “Cat, there are so many things I’d happily do to you that aren’t simply sex.”
The use of my nickname slid me back into the fantasy as he trailed his face over my shirt covered breasts and down to my belly. I let him lift the hem of the tee and watched him carefully press butterfly kisses down to the top of my panties. “What about this?”
As much as I wanted him to keep going, I pressed my hands against his cheeks and pulled him back to me. “Later,” I whispered.
He kissed me again, gently now. My heartbeat started returning to normal when he folded himself around my back again. I had to ignore his erection against my ass. Every cell in my overheated body wanted to rub my ass against him. But that seemed cruel after I slowed him down, so I stayed still and focused on evening each exhale. When most of the lust had faded away, I closed my eyes and finally settled into the pillow. With his arm braced under my neck wafting his scent around me, I fell asleep faster than I have in years.
