“And what do you do if you fall in love?” Three quick pumps. His cock felt like steel; he’d never been so hard.
“That would be tricky. To fall in love.” He could only produce short sentences. “When you only spend. One night with someone.” Though if you asked him right then he’d likely say he loved this woman. He definitely loved what she did to him, what she was doing to him.
Her eyes clouded, but her hand didn’t stop moving, continuing her rhythmic pattern. Her voice was quieter when she continued. “You’ve never considered breaking your rule?”
He’d done more than consider it. He’d broken it hardcore. And that fiasco did nothing but enforce his no-love stance.
But his answer to Maddie was much simpler, though it came out strained. “No. I don’t. That rule got me here. I love it here.” He was close. So close. A few more strokes and he would be done for.
Her eyes darkened. Was that hurt? Disappointment? He couldn’t tell and he was too consumed with what she was doing to him to fully register meaning in her expression.
She leaned over giving him a perfect view of her round breasts and pumped four times fast. It was her final harsh whisper that threw him over the edge. “You would have gotten here anyway.”
Micah brought his hand to his mouth to stifle his moan as he exploded into her hand. Even as he came, he wanted more, knew that this would not be nearly enough. Maddie Bauers was completely and utterly under his skin.
Nine
Micah closed his eyes as Maddie caught the hot fluid with a cloth napkin. She cleaned him up, wiped off her hand, balled the napkin and threw it onto the table. She’d never done anything like that—ever—and she was unexpectedly roused.
But she was also resolved. She’d needed to give this to Micah, to even the score and put a cap on their night from the past. Their most recent conversation confirmed again that messing around with him would lead to nothing but heartache. He was in love with his career. Why she even bothered to argue it with him, she didn’t know. “You would have gotten where you are in Hollywood, too. Don’t kid yourself that a woman would have held you back.”
Micah paused to calm his breathing as he tucked himself back into his pants. “I don't believe that.”
“What about Lulu?” She was taking a stab in the dark, but she’d heard Fudge and Micah talking about the woman during the car ride from the airport. It was evident Micah had feelings for the woman, whoever she was.
“Lulu?” Micah laughed. “Lulu has never held me back, though she’s a major factor in my decision to not date. But it’s not for the reasons you’d think.” He paused. “Lulu’s my mother.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “Whoops. I thought I’d stumbled on a woman you were seeing on a regular basis.”
“Good guess. I do see her on a regular basis after all. But she’s honestly the only woman I can say that about.”
She sat back in her chair, attempting to put everything in perspective. He was a player. A self-declared gigolo. At least he didn’t deny it.
And she couldn’t deny that she was mildly interested. More than mildly. More like wildly.
But she knew herself. She was too into him already. It wouldn’t take much to make her fall for him. As Bree had said, he would make her cry.
She sighed and then leveled an even stare at him. “I can’t date you, Micah.”
His eyes hinted amusement. “Who said anything about dating?”
“And I definitely can’t do that with you.”
He leaned forward, challenge written all over his face. “Why not?”
“Are you serious? To just be a random number in a group of women? A notch in your bedpost that doesn’t mean anything?”
Micah put his hand over hers, his touch burned like fire on her skin. “You wouldn’t be random. You’re Maddie from the party.”
“God, Micah, that’s just…gross.” She slid her hand out from under his. “I’m not against one-night stands in general, but you said it before. You’re different. You’d be different.”
Micah leaned forward and placed his hand on her leg under the table sending electric shocks throughout her body. “If by different you mean the most insanely hot, wicked pleasure you’ve ever felt, then yes, I’ll agree.”
His fingers moved in circles on her leg, and her mind filled with unwanted images of the insanely hot wicked pleasure Micah promised.
Shaking the fantasies out of her head, she removed his hand from her thigh. “Though I imagine what you say is true…” He winked at her and she had to look away. “That’s not what I meant. Most hook-ups you can love and leave. But not you. I’d see you everywhere after and I’m not talking about in person. And it would make me a major hypocrite. I don’t approve of how you use women like Kleenex—”
“Hey, no one’s ever complained.”
“I’m sure they haven’t.” His cavalier attitude about the whole thing just reinforced her decision. “And I’m sure you aren’t used to hearing these words, but I'm not interested, Micah. Not in the least.”
Okay, that was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.
Micah fixed a somber stare on her for several long seconds and she began to wonder if he knew she was exaggerating her disinterest. But finally he said, “It’s too bad you feel that way.”
She took the last swallow of her beer, trying to drown the cloud that had settled around them. She hadn’t meant to take this to such a serious place. It wasn’t like they were breaking up. Strange how it felt like they were. “Hey, you were fun.” She patted his knee to lighten the mood. And to get in one last grope.
Micah grabbed her hand and moved it to the growing package in his pants. “I can still be fun.”
“Oh no, no, no.” She pulled her hand away blocking out the knowledge that he was hard again, suppressing thoughts of what she could do with that knowledge.
“Then what was all this?” He waved his hand, referring to Maddie’s under-table gift.
Shit. She’d given him the wrong idea. That hadn’t been her intent. She was trying to end things. Not make him want more. “I owed you.”
“You really didn’t.”
She threw his words back at him. “I don’t believe that.” All right, maybe she’d done it just as much for herself as him. To give herself closure. Or maybe to prove something, that she wasn’t a prude, that she could make a move like that without getting attached. Hell, she wasn’t quite sure why she’d done it. Micah confused her so much she had no idea why she did anything anymore. In fact, if he asked her again, she might go to bed with him now.
Micah sighed. Was he really going to give up this easily? She was both relieved and disappointed. “I guess I have to settle for friends.”
She scoffed. Friends? That was ridiculous. He didn’t know the first thing about her, didn’t even seem interested in her beyond the physical. “We're not friends.”
“We could be friends.” He rubbed his leg against her lower calf, sending tingles up her spine.
Besides, his version of friends didn’t seem the same as hers. She pulled her leg out of his reach. “No we can't. You can't even keep your hands to yourself.”
“I can, and my hands aren’t even touching you.” He waved his fingers in the air to further his point.
“Whatever.” He was flustering her. As always. “Your feet, your hands, your things!”
Micah grinned. “Are you sure you want that? My things are awfully fun.”
She flushed. “We are totally not friends.” She didn’t even want to be friends with him—spend more time with him, so she could crush on him even harder? No way.
Micah sat forward, suddenly serious. “Look, we have to spend the rest of the shoot together. Work together every day. And that means you might drop your tape measure in front of me and I might get all turned on and we have to be able to laugh about it like friends.”
He was getting cute. She needed another drink.
“Or Beaumont might want you to run lines. I still have a sex
scene coming up. What if you get sent in to help with that?”
“I won't.” Fuck no. She’d be naked within half a page. She signaled the waitress for another round.
“You won't be sent or you won't help?” He propped his elbow on the table and set his chin in his hand.
She glared at him and then melted at his boyish expression. God help her. She kept up her protest, hoping he hadn’t noticed her crumbling resolve. “Well I might be sent, but I'm not helping.”
“What? That isn't any kind of friend to be.”
She covered her eyes with her hands, hiding her amusement. “Because we're not friends.”
When she removed her hands she found him grinning at her. He gave a half-wink. Oh, for the love of God. He knew he’d won her over.
His ocean-blue eyes sparkled. “You say that, but you don't mean it. I'm fun. Even when I keep my things to myself.”
“All right, all right!” She sighed. “Friends.”
He sat back, basking in his win. “Awesome.”
Maybe they could be friends. She liked talking with him and hadn’t felt so relaxed in… she couldn’t even remember how long. She enjoyed his banter, almost as much as she enjoyed his hands on her.
No, she couldn’t think about that. They were friends.
The waitress delivered their beers, lingering to stare at the Hollywood star. Micah appeared not to notice. He raised his own beer and clinked Maddie’s bottle. “To newfound friendship.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She took a swallow.
“Now that we're buds,” Micah said, setting his glass down. “I have to tell you: do not go on a date with that P.A. scum.”
Here it was. She’d known friendship wouldn’t work. “It’s not a date.”
Micah nodded toward the pool tables where Sam and Chloe appeared to be nearing the end of their game. “He thinks it is.”
“It’s not.” Though she wasn’t exactly sure that was true. “And it’s none of your business.”
He cocked his head. “We’re friends. Friends don’t let friends date douchebags.”
Again with the cute. He had charm down to a science. “He is not a douchebag. And I want to go to Breckenridge.”
“Let me take you.”
Maddie paused momentarily thrown by his abrupt sincerity. “First of all, no. That would not be a good idea.” Not a good idea at all. “Secondly, Sam’s from here. He’s a perfect guide.”
Micah scowled. “He’s a douchebag.”
“At least he’s not a playboy.” Low blow and she knew it.
He flinched slightly. “You don’t know that. He doesn’t want to show you Breckenridge. He wants to show you what’s in his pants. And I guarantee it’s not much.”
“Whatever, Micah.” She was not going back to a conversation about pants. That only led to thoughts of what was inside Micah’s pants. And she had already thought about—and touched, God, did she really do that?—his love muscle way too much for one night. Correction, too much period.
And now she was thinking about his dick again, hard and inside her. Did she really have to give this up?
It was as if he sensed her resolve breaking. “Come on, I’d make it fun.” He gave his most devilish grin—the one that made Maddie weak in the knees and slippery in her panties. He lowered his voice as Sam and a few of the spectators returned to the table. “I think I’ve demonstrated that in the past, haven’t I?”
Maddie’s belly tightened at the soft, seductive quality of his voice. Dammit. She had planned for the evening to go one way: hand job then blow off. Instead he had complicated things with “just friends,” wandering hands, and an invitation to spend their day off together. She no longer had a hold on what was up or down with Micah Preston. What she did know was that a daytrip spent with Sam would pale in comparison to one spent with the hot piece of meat next to her, though Sam would certainly be safer. Well, somewhat safer—he would likely make advances of his own, but Maddie could handle him. Not necessarily true with Micah. She was befuddled.
“I totally thought she had you,” Fudge said. “Excellent final play!”
“Thanks, man.” Sam took the seat Maddie had occupied before.
Maddie sat back in her chair, distancing herself from Micah. “So you won?”
“I kicked her four-foot-eight ass.”
“Four-foot-eight and a half, thank you very much,” Chloe corrected.
“Next time, I’d love to have you there to cheer me on.” Sam put his hand over Maddie’s on the table.
Ah, crap. He was totally into her. And going alone with him to the film festival would likely give him ideas about them as a couple, which would totally be misleading because she was not jumping baby-face Sam. No, she couldn’t do that to him.
But it was Micah who made her decide to compromise. She glanced at him when Sam took her hand, expecting to see an “I-told-you-so” look on his face. Instead, he’d let his mask slip for the slightest of moments and underneath the hot actor exterior she saw a lonely, yearning man.
It tugged at her heart and before she could think too much about it she slipped her hand out from under Sam’s and said, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Micah to go with us to the festival tomorrow.”
“And Fudge,” Micah said, not missing a beat. He winked at her.
“Yes, and Fudge. That’s not a problem is it?”
“Uh no, of course not.” Sam’s disappointment was evident but he recovered quickly. “Is there anyone else who wants to go? I can seat one more.”
“Hell, I’ll go,” Chloe said. “We could take the van I rented. I could fit one more.”
Joe stood, wobbling as he did. “Awesome. I’ll join you. Which means I need to get to bed. I might have had a little more to drink than I thought.”
The bunch agreed to call it a night. Phone numbers were exchanged and specific times set for those meeting in the morning. Maddie trembled as she handed her phone to Micah for him to enter his info. His number! She tried not to let that thought excite her.
The waitress brought over the final tab. Micah grabbed it first, then pulled out a gold American Express and returned it to her.
“It’s on me,” he said.
Surprised and grateful “thank you’s” passed among the lot. “Thanks, man, that was really nice of you,” Sam said. “You’re welcome back any time.”
“It’s no problem. The waitress wanted my autograph anyway but couldn’t get the nerve to ask. Now she’ll have it.”
So he had noticed the waitress. Sure Micah had more money than God, but treating everyone was a nice gesture and Maddie saved her own acknowledgement until she had his full attention. “Thank you.”
He nodded and she felt his eyes as she stood, grabbing her purse from where it hung on the back of Sam’s chair. She waved and started out of the bar.
Before she’d made it to the street, her phone buzzed with a text from Micah from the party. She grinned at his entry then read his text. No, Maddie. Thank you.”
She wasn’t sure if he was thanking her for Breckenridge or the hand job, probably the latter. What struck her was the effort he was making to get her…it made her tummy swirl with a storm of butterflies.
But it also made her dizzy and disoriented. Why her? She’d said no, more than once. If he was really only interested in a lay, why was he still trying to win her? Was it the thrill of the chase? Had her refusal read to him as playing hard to get?
It was the uncertainty and the fear of leading him into pursuing her more that kept her from responding to his message. Instead, she closed his text and pretended she could put the man out of her head as easily as she stowed her phone in her pocket.
Ten
“The last one intrigued me,” Maddie said as they neared the venue of the next movie they planned to see. Out of the three films they’d seen so far, the last had been the only one halfway decent. Still, she was having fun with Joe, Chloe, Sam, and even Fudge and Micah. As promised, Breckenridge was beautiful, and she en
joyed getting in touch with what other artists were doing. Such days never failed to inspire her.
“Agreed,” Joe said, walking into the old movie theater. “It wasn’t exceptional, but it had something.”
“It was sort of creepy,” Fudge said, holding the door for Maddie.
“It was brave,” she said walking in to the lobby.
“The satire was perfect,” Micah chimed in behind her. “Clearly influenced by Bret Easton Ellis.”
Maddie faced him. “Ellis? I’d say more Elio Petri.”
“I’ve never even heard of Elee Peteri or whoever.” Chloe rubbed at her mouth. “My God, it’s so dry here. Does anyone have any lip shit?”
“No, definitely Ellis,” Micah insisted, removing his baseball cap and pushing his sunglasses to his head. “I think Maddie has some ChapStick.”
Maddie blushed, ignoring the glint in his eye and the memory of her hand on his privates as she dug into her purse for her ChapStick. “It’s almost gone, but take it.” She handed the tube to Chloe. She turned back to Micah, not letting the intimate flashback interrupt the debate. “American Psycho would never have existed without films like Investigation of a Citizen above Suspicion.”
“But I guarantee you that—” Micah pulled his crumpled program from his back pocket and flipped until he found what he was looking for, “—Todd Nichols never in his life saw a Petri film, or Z or Salo, for that matter, so I’m calling Todd’s influence Ellis.”
Maddie pursed her lips. Few people could keep up with her on film history. Even in the biz she never ceased to be surprised by how many people had no idea about the background of their art. Micah’s ability to intelligently and convincingly hold his end of the debate warmed her core. “Just because the artist is unaware of the influence doesn’t mean it isn’t valid,” she argued, less forcefully than before.
“I think you’re mistaking influence with roots.”
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