“Okay,” I say. And I don’t really know what else to say or do, so I just start to walk away.
“Pins”—he catches hold of my hand from behind me, turning me back to him—“that came out sounding wrong. I wanted to kiss you. God, I want to kiss you.”
His eyes move to my lips. I wet them with my tongue. It’s automatic, but I won’t deny that the flare of lust in his eyes sends a thrill zinging to my clit.
“It’s just that I need to keep my name out of the press. I promised Jack, my manager, and I promised myself, no fucking around while I do this film. Brandon wanted me for the movie, but before he offered it to me, he had reservations because of the way I’d been living my life. I need this movie. I need the focus to be on this movie and not who I’m sleeping with.”
“We’re not sleeping together.” My voice comes out a little sharper than intended.
Okay, I intended it to be sharp.
“I know. I mean, I want to sleep with you…”
He moves closer, and my breath catches.
“Well, what I want to do with you wouldn’t require any sleep. I want to fuck you until neither of us can walk. But I can’t. Not right now.” He steps back, dropping my hand. “I can’t get involved with you even though I really want to.”
“It’s fine, Vaughn. I get it.” And I do. Only my libido isn’t feeling too happy about it. “Friends.” I hold my hand out to him, forcing a smile onto my face.
He stares at it for a beat, and I remember how he rejected my hand the first time I met him.
I’m just about to pull away when he slips his hand into mine. Electricity fires up my arm, the feel of his rough hand reminding me of how it felt on me just those few minutes ago.
He looks at me. “Friends,” he says.
And he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
It’s around ten, and I’m lying in bed, wearing my pajamas—a tank and boy shorts. I’m watching a Sex and the City rerun, eating chocolate.
Hey, don’t judge. I’m feeling a little sorry for myself over Vaughn.
When there’s a knock at my door, I stop chewing.
Who could that be?
My eyes go to the door like it holds the answer.
Putting my bar of chocolate down on the nightstand, I slide my legs off the bed and quietly pad over to the door.
I put my ear to the door but can’t hear anything.
I swallow the chocolate in my mouth. “Who is it?” I ask.
What is he doing here?
My heart bangs hard against my chest as I take ahold of the handle and open the door.
And there he is, looking beautiful, wearing a Lakers ball cap pulled low over his eyes, light-blue jeans with his hands pushed into the pockets, and a midnight blue V-neck sweater that looks soft to the touch. I’m almost certain that it’s Armani. That sweater more than likely costs more than my whole month’s rent.
“Hi,” I say softly, curling my fingers into the hem of my shorts.
His hands pull from his pockets, going to either side of the doorframe where he grips it. “So, it turns out, the friends thing isn’t going to work for me.”
“Oh.” I sag a little. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not enough. I need more. I want more…I want all of you.”
My heart soars, and my panties mentally drop.
A second later, my face is in his hands, and he’s kissing me like he might die if he doesn’t. I know I’ll die if he stops. Then, he’s walking me back into my room, kicking the door shut with his foot.
His tongue is in my mouth, fighting mine over whose belongs where. I push his ball cap off, letting it fall to the floor, and my fingers tangle in his hair, clutching and pulling at it.
His hands find my ass and lift me. I wrap my legs around his waist.
The next thing I feel is my back against the wall. And Vaughn is pressed up against me, taking my mouth like it belongs to him.
Because, right now, it does. For this moment in time, I’m his to do whatever he wants with.
“You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Was just eating some before you got here.” I can barely get the words out.
You’ve got to cut me some slack here. I currently have Vaughn West’s body molded to mine. My libido is throwing a fucking fanfare.
He runs his tongue over my lower lip, making me shiver.
“Delicious. But I bet your pussy tastes even better.”
Holy God. He’s a dirty-talker, and it’s so hot.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he rumbles.
I want you so bad, too.
I make a garbled sound of agreement. It’s all I can manage at the moment.
“Charly, are you with me?” He rests his forehead to mine, eyes watching me.
“I’m with you,” I pant, breathless.
“Good.” A sexy-as-hell smile slides onto his face. “Because I’m about to fuck you into oblivion.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, yes.
He carries me over to the bed and deposits me onto it. He kicks off his shoes and lies over me. He kisses me again, and I spread my legs, making room for him. He pushes up against me, making me moan.
He pulls back and thrusts against me. My head tips back, pressing into the bed. His lips find my neck, kissing me, his tongue trailing over my skin.
“You smell good. What is that? Raspberries and…”