Auctioned to the A-Lister

by Holloway, Taylor

“Keep on patronizing me and you’ll end up covered in paint,” I crowed.

  I talked a good game, my voice was confident enough, and my familiarity with guns notwithstanding, the truth was that this personality shift was still basically brand new. I was making this all up as I went along. But it seemed to be working.

  In the very recent past, I was a sniveling, pathetic pushover who let Marigold and my stepsisters boss me around and deride me. I’d been working sixty-hour weeks for minimum wage with no end in sight, and no hope for anything better.

  I’d let them convince me I was nothing, and as a result, I was becoming more nothing every day. One charity ball, one chance meeting, one time jumping out of an airplane, and I was realizing that my life didn’t have to be that way. I was learning that I wasn’t trapped after all. I’d had the key to my freedom the whole time, but I’d been too afraid to use it.

  I could be whoever I wanted to be. I wasn’t sure who that was yet, but I was figuring it out. Bit by bit.

  Just look at me now. Was I scrubbing poop out of suede curtains? I think not. I was out on another date with Tommy Prince, having just fled LA with the man. We’d made love, drove all night, and then learned that my nightmare stepfamily had just turned their loose connection to Tommy into the world’s trashiest reality TV show. And now? Paintball.

  So why the hell not? It was a whole lot better than the aforementioned poop-covered suede curtains. Or putting up with the endless ego blows and insults that Marigold, Quincy, and Greenlee were so skilled at dishing out.

  Was it love making me feel like this? I’d never been in love before, so it was hard to tell. But every time I looked into Tommy’s blue-green eyes, my pulse sped up. Every time our skin touched, I wanted more. And every time he kissed me, I fell a little more deeply under his spell.

  It was all the more intoxicating because it seemed for all the world like he felt the same way. I could feel him looking at me all the time, glancing over to find him looking away as if embarrassed. Was it possible that he actually wanted me as much as I wanted him? It seemed impossible, but not more unbelievable than anything else that had happened lately.

  I wanted him to fall in love with me, even if I didn’t know what it meant. Even if I knew it couldn’t really last between us.

  Part of me was utterly convinced that I was as temporary as this escape was for him. I was an excuse to leave his real life behind. A diversion. Almost a toy. But that didn’t even bother me. It was better, so much better, than not ever having him.

  “I’ve never done this before,” I told Tommy, checking my gun and finding that it very closely resembled the semiautomatic hunting rifles my dad taught me how to use as a child. “But I bet I’m going to be better at it than you are. Have you ever actually shot at anything or do you leave that for your stunt doubles?”

  He laughed lightly and the sound made me smile. “You caught me. They usually don’t let me near real or even convincingly fake firearms.” He seemed vaguely put out about that. “I never get to do the fun stunts. Usually I don’t even get to do the boring stunts. It’s my brothers who get to do the fun action movies.”

  “I see,” I teased. “You’re just too valuable a commodity to let you hurt yourself, huh?”

  “Exactly.” He was surprisingly down-to-earth considering his crazy life. “My agent wasn’t exactly happy to learn about the skydiving thing, either.”

  “Does he want you to live in a bubble or something?” I could see that getting old.

  His expression was sour, and he sighed. “I’m sure she’d prefer that, yeah. Becoming America’s golden boy has meant missing out on a lot of fun over the years.”

  “So, why are you misbehaving?” I asked. “Are you going to get in trouble?”

  He laughed at me. “I’m already in trouble. But I don’t always do what I’m told. I have to live a little bit, now and then.”

  I could only imagine that’s what I was to him—an escape. A little slice of a life that he couldn’t keep. A regular, ordinary girl who didn’t know or care about the intense, important life he normally lived. I was only ever going to be temporary to him, but that’s what attracted him to me. We were mayflies, and we might as well enjoy our day in the sun because it would never last.

  Tommy didn’t mention it, but while I’d been resting earlier, I’d overheard him talking to someone on the phone. It had sounded like a tense conversation. I only heard his half of the conversation, but it didn’t sound like whoever he was speaking with was all that excited that he was hanging out with me, either. I wasn’t sure who it was he was talking to, whether it was his agent, or one of his brothers, or someone else close to him. But I heard Tommy defending his actions and me.

  I didn’t want to become a publicity problem for Tommy. But I couldn’t resist him, either. The truth was that I was splashing around in deeper waters than I ever expected to find myself in. When I met Tommy Prince, I thought I might have the opportunity to dip my toe into a life I’d never have. Just to see what it was like. But now that he’d made love to me and whisked me away from the life I’d known and the person I thought I was, I wasn’t sure if I could avoid drowning in it. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to.

  I was no manic pixie dream girl. I couldn’t make his problems disappear or save him from the pressures of his life. I couldn’t do that stuff for myself, let alone for him. But we could both pretend it didn’t matter for a while. And that would be enough. It had to be.

  “Is that what we’re doing here?” I asked Tommy, even though I was afraid to hear the answer. “Living a little bit? Misbehaving?”

  Is that all I am to you? I didn’t ask that part. I was too afraid.

  He nodded in answer to my question. The heat in his gaze made me feel weak in the knees. “I feel pretty alive right now, how about you?”

  I’d never felt more alive in my life. It was a shame to think that it wouldn’t last.

  I adjusted his grip on the gun. He was holding it all wrong. His eyes widened as I did, realizing now, finally, that I might actually know what I was doing. “Well, here’s your chance to break free, I guess.” I winked at him. “Catch me if you can.”

  31

  Tommy

  Cindy tagged me squarely in the chest within the first five minutes of the game. It didn’t hurt, except to my pride. I was actually quite impressed. The red paint stood out against the black body armor, looking almost like blood. She’d outplayed me with her sweet, innocent looks and that pretty blue skirt she was wearing. The girl knew exactly what she was doing with the paintball gun, and she was quick, too. I couldn’t keep up with her.

  All that running around and punching with Mark Rodgers and my brothers hadn’t taught me the art of stealth at all. Boxing isn’t about sneaking. I wasn’t good at sneaking. Or shooting.

  But Cindy was very good at sneaking. She was like a damn ninja. She got me again in the leg as I was desperately chasing her around the gigantic plywood maze we were in. That one actually stung a little bit. Christ, she was fast. At one point, she just turned around and shot me and then ran off again with her long golden hair flying behind her like a pennant and her round butt twitching temptingly from side to side. And when did she learn how to shoot like that, anyway? Every time I tried to line up a shot on her it took too damn long. I wasn’t able to shoot and run at the same time.

  Finally, I got an idea. I found myself a blind corner made out of the same plywood as the entire maze we were exploring and just hung out there, waiting for her to come to me. Clearly, chasing her had been a mistake. Maybe if I lured her over to me, I had half a chance.

  Finally, she came looking for me. I heard her light footsteps approaching. I crouched down, tensed, and then when she appeared, pounced. I caught her by the shoulders, spinning her and then pinning her to the wall.

  Her full lips parted, and her hazel eyes were wide as I pinned her. She lost her grip on the gun and it clattered to the ground. I’d already put mine on the ground. I wasn’t looking to shoot her
. I wanted to kiss her. So, I did.

  She struggled against me for only a moment, melting into my embrace and letting me explore her mouth.

  “Caught you,” I whispered, fumbling for the buckles that held her armor to her chest. I ripped it off her and it joined the gun on the ground. The helmet was next. Then the goggles. Then the gloves. “You’re mine now.”

  “This is cheating!” she whimpered, looking equal parts turned on and frustrated that I’d changed the game on her. She grabbed at her armor, but it was out of her reach. “You’re not playing fair.”

  I laughed. “When did I ever say I was going to play fair?”

  She struggled against me halfheartedly, but it was only play. I let her tire herself out, smiling and kissing her when she let me. I won her over eventually.

  Distantly, I was grateful that the proprietors of this paintball range had been utterly disinterested in our presence. We were their only two customers today. They’d been very clear that once we were on the course, they wouldn’t be coming around to check on us. We had whistles and flares if we needed to summon help, but otherwise we were on our own. With more than three acres in which to roam on our paintballing adventure, that meant we had relative privacy.

  Cindy stared up at me, arching into my touch when I pulled her shirt up and then helping me to lift her and wrapping her legs around my waist. She gasped into my kisses, pulling at my hair. My body was aching for hers.

  I’d only meant to kiss her, maybe tease her a little bit. But now I knew that wouldn’t be nearly enough. The rational mind was no longer at the controls.

  I knew that a paintball course wasn’t the most romantic place to make love to Cindy. She certainly deserved better. But this paint splattered course wasn’t worse than her dry cleaning van. And I wasn’t able to stop myself.

  She didn’t seem like she was able to stop herself, either. Her frustration and anger had evaporated a while back. She writhed against me, whimpering, rocking her hips into mine and promising me that she wanted this just as much as I did. My eyes were transfixed by her bouncing chest and soft, glowing skin. My cock was rock hard and straining against my jeans. All remaining restraint and clarity receded into nothing. There was only one cure for me now, and it wasn’t running around with a gun full of paint.

  Thank God for the skirt, I thought to myself as I shoved it up her soft, creamy white thighs. The paintball guys had been vaguely disapproving that Cindy wasn’t wearing pants, but it was all working out just fine now. With both my eager hands now firmly grasping her round ass, I couldn’t think of a more appropriate thing to wear while paintballing.

  Cindy arched her back, leaning back and fumbling with my pants with her free hand while the other gripped my shoulder to keep her balance. My heart was pounding in my ears, and my breath caught in my throat when she took me in hand. Her pretty, soft little hand worked me eagerly, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

  I grabbed her hand, using my hand over hers to line us up and then join our bodies. She stared into my eyes, gasping as we moved together. She was impossibly tight at this angle, and I hoped I wasn’t hurting her because I wasn’t going to be able to stay still.

  With her legs wrapped around my waist, I grabbed her ass and worked against her. I wasn’t being gentle. I wasn’t going slow. I was desperate to feel her, and every stroke was hotter, wetter, and tighter than the last. She whimpered in what sounded much more like pleasure than pain. Her little noises were driving me crazy.

  The fact that we were doing this so brazenly in the light of day only made it hotter. The small risk of being caught only drove me higher. I’d never fucked anyone outside before. I’d been missing out.

  “Harder,” she whimpered, and I happily obliged, driving into her more forcefully. Her eyes slipped shut in bliss, and I was right there with her.

  We were nothing more than animals in that moment. I took her wordlessly, thoughtlessly, relentlessly, taking more than I was giving and not caring about anything else. I’d wanted an escape, and I’d found one. Her body was so soft and warm. So perfect. I lost my mind.

  And I found what I’d been looking for. There was no way this wasn’t love. It had to be love. Because I’d never felt anything like this before, and it wasn’t just sexual pleasure.

  When Cindy came, eyes shut tight and moaning against my neck, her body tightened hard around mine. I finished a few slick, rough strokes later, and I knew I’d never be able to give Cindy up.

  Maybe Elaine was right. Maybe Cindy was toxic. But it wasn’t her fault, and I couldn’t push her away even if it were. She was mine now. When I looked into her eyes in the calm, quiet moment after sex when we were curled up on the ground, I saw my own feelings reflected in her eyes.

  This wasn’t the time or the place to tell her that I loved her. It wasn’t good enough for her. But I needed to tell her soon. I had to convince her it was true. Because I knew that if I didn’t, if I let this chance pass me by, it wouldn’t come again.

  32

  Cindy

  After paintball, a shower, and more sex in the shower, we finally drank some wine. Tommy took me to a beautiful restaurant in the center of the little town. The only problem was that the menu of the beautiful restaurant was entirely in beautiful French. I took a gulp of my wine. It was pretty good. Pink, sweet, and bubbly. Much better than Marigold’s cheap chardonnay. Maybe I did like wine.

  “Tommy,” I confessed in a whisper, pulling at my hair and feeling beyond pedestrian. “I don’t know what any of this stuff is.”

  He blinked and looked down at the menu. The expression on his handsome face was nonplussed. “What’s the matter?” He was clearly confused by my misgivings.

  “It’s in French,” I said, feeling like that was obvious. The whole damn thing was in French, except for the prices. I could read the prices just fine, and they were sky high.

  Tommy laughed, and I hoped it wasn’t at me. “I’m sorry,” he said, correctly interpreting my expression. “I didn’t even notice. That’s pretty snobby though, isn’t it?”

  “You or the restaurant?” I groused. I took another sip of the wine, attempting not to look too much like a country bumpkin. Even if I was a country bumpkin.

  “Both,” he admitted. At least he had the good sense to look chastened.

  I rolled my eyes. “You really are a rich kid, aren’t you?”

  I supposed it wasn’t his fault. He was born rich. His father was one of the most successful tech entrepreneurs in the world.

  He shrugged. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I had nothing to do with it. I was just lucky.”

  I smirked at him. “I guess that’s fair.” I paused. “So, do you speak French?”

  He nodded. “My dad insisted that all his children learn French. It was part of his long-term plan to improve our decidedly working-class origins. I guess he thought French was classy or something. I had a French-speaking nanny growing up, and then, as an adult, I even took French language classes as part of my minor in college.”

  “So, you’re fluent?” I asked, impressed. “I’m jealous. I barely managed to absorb a child’s grasp of Spanish and I took it for something like twelve years.”

  I could order a taco or ask for a bathroom. I could ask about the weather. I could name all the colors in the rainbow. I could even ask for directions to the library. But God forbid someone actually tried to give me the directions to the library. I wouldn’t be able to understand them at all.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m fluent,” he admitted, looking vaguely embarrassed to admit anything less than total mastery. “But I’m more or less conversationally competent. I mean, I can read a menu. It’s Holden that actually has a talent for languages. Derek, Peter, and I were all just average at learning languages. Holden blew us all away.”

  “I can’t imagine four brothers all so close in age,” I told him, changing the subject. I was still struggling to wrap my mind around Tommy’s big family. “What was it like growing up with so many brothers?”

&nbs
p; Tommy grinned at me. His smile was enough to light up a room, and it was obvious that he loved his brothers. “I wouldn’t trade you siblings or anything, but it was definitely an adventure growing up with so many boys in the house. It was never quiet, or if it was, that meant it was about to be extremely loud because somebody was up to something. Usually Peter. Sometimes Derek. Never me, I was an angel.”

  There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made me suspect he might be messing with me.

  “An angel, huh?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

  He beamed back at me, angelically. “Yes, of course,” he told me. “A perfect, obedient, studious little angel. Not like my heathen brothers. They were monsters.”

  “You were the worst of all of them, weren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “It was a tight race, honestly. We were all pretty terrible at one point or another. Derek never shut up. Holden was always being bossy. Peter was usually throwing himself off something or chasing girls.”

  “What about you?”

  “I was usually trying to beat Derek at whatever he was up to.” He laughed. “I usually won, too.” He paused. “Or I was chasing girls with Peter.”

  “Have you always been competitive with Derek?” I asked.

  Tommy grinned. “Well, he is my twin brother. We’re best friends and best enemies. I think that’s normal.” He laughed. “He’s actually the reason I’m here now.”

  “At this restaurant?” I asked, confused.

  He shook his head. “No. In Hollywood. We made a bet back when we were eighteen. About who would win an Oscar first. Well, we’re both on the nominee list this year. Him for best supporting actor, and me for best actor. Somebody might finally settle that bet this year.”

  “You got into this on a bet?” I asked. “That’s insane.”

  He nodded. “It is. But it’s not the weirdest bet my brothers and I have ever made. Our house was full of them.”