Page 40 of My Sexy Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 2)
We ordered a pizza later that night. The best part? She actually ate it. Well, she ate two slices.
“I can have this because we’re going to work it off,” she said.
“You have no idea how happy it makes me that you’re not freaking out about food because of us,” I said, gesturing from her to me.
She flashed me a smile. “Me, too. I was so sure I wouldn’t be able to handle it all. But I’m thrilled to say I have no desire to barf because of falling for you,” she said, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“Ah, I’ve never been so thrilled at not making a woman toss her cookies.”
“I have a way with words, don’t I?” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“You are blunt and it’s adorable.”
“Besides, as long as we keep working out like this, I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about food one bit,” she said.
A few minutes later, we christened her couch, and our second time was even better than our first as she climbed over me, riding me with a kind of wildness that made me lose my mind with pleasure.
Eventually, we returned to her bed where we tried several positions, laughing at the ones that didn’t work so well, then not laughing at the ones that did.
Hell, we were both twenty-one. We had loads of energy. We had endless stamina. We had raging hormones, and we took advantage of all those points in our favor.
* * *
Jess
* * *
I stretched my arms over my head after my fourth orgasm of the night. It wasn’t likely to be my last. William was insatiable, and that was fine with me. Sex with him rocked. It was so good it made me even more determined to help him find a job. I wasn’t ready to give up this, or him.
“Hey, what time is your meeting tomorrow morning?”
“Nine.”
“I have to meet Riley at eleven. Should we have coffee in between our meetings?” I asked, and I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous about presuming we’d want to see each other as much as we could. I knew he wanted the same thing.
“You can’t get enough of me,” he said, grabbing my hip and pulling me close. “Now that you’ve had me, you’re powerless to resist me.”
“Well, duh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You’re my Hot British Guy.”
“The answer then is yes. On one condition.”
“And that is?”
“You have to meet my brother. He’s in town for work for the day, so we’re getting together for brunch.”
“I would love to meet him,” I said, amazed at how quickly we were falling into being a couple, especially when our clock was ticking. In less than two months, he might be gone, and the thought was a tight knot in my chest that I wanted to eradicate. For now, I turned my focus elsewhere, tapping the clock on my nightstand that blared ten thirty p.m. “The night is young. I’m going to expect several more rounds, William.”
He saluted me. “Yes, ma’am. More sex coming your way, shortly.” His gaze returned to the clock again. “Are those your flash cards next to the clock?”
Reaching for the stack of index cards, I nodded. “Yup. I practice before bed.” I handed him the cards. “Try me.”
“That’s about twenty feet tall,” he said as he held the huge mass of cards.
“A list to D list celebs,” I said, and patted the cards. “C’mon. Quiz me. I can name everyone on here. I even added publicists the other night. They’re on the top. Learned my lesson that I need to be able to recognize their faces.”
He picked up the first card, and displayed the picture for me.
“Cassidy James,” I said in less than a second. “She handles press for the cast of Restless Roommates, as well as for the actress Peach Winship from that LGO show Powder on drug dealers.”
“Impressive,” he said as he verified on the back, then showed me another one.
“Trivoli Lipton. He reps most of the Stay-at-Home Moms with Sharp Claws shows.”
“Indeed he does,” William said as he read the back of the card.
He showed me another index card. “Lacey Cordona. Does PR for the Smith Street Blues series.”
Then Keats’s photo.
I laughed. “I think we both know who he reps.”
“Yep. He reps jackasses,” William said and I smiled at his remark.
He brandished a photo of another publicist, a smarmy-looking guy with a mane of wavy gray hair.
“That’s Trevor Highsmith. British, as a matter of fact. Runs some big shop and reps a ton of writers and directors. I’m not positive but from a few stories I read, I think he might be Avery Brock’s publicist.”
William flipped the card around and looked at Trevor’s photo. He furrowed his brow, as his expression shifted from amused to serious. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. Why?”
William scratched his chin and studied the card. “He looks a bit like someone I know. But I’m not sure.”
