Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “I don’t craft what I say.” Wait, do I? Damn, he might be right. I think I might actually craft what I say. “Not much anyway.”

  He smiles and takes my hand that has been very touchy feely. “You’re making me hard. Unless you plan to follow through right the fuck here in first class, let’s hold off.”

  Why is it so hot when he swears from sexual frustration and sexual release? Just everything sexual. It’s even hotter when he’s swearing. “I’m willing to follow through right the fuck here. If you want me to.”

  “Drugs?”

  I hit him, and as he laughs blocking the second hit, I say, “No, I’m not on drugs either. Geez, you make me sound awful.”

  Lifting the armrest up, he then wraps his arm around me and pulls me as close as he can. “I don’t mean it like that at all. I find you incredibly sexy whether you’re in business mode or not, so don’t take it the wrong way. I’ve only gotten glimpses of the carefree Reese since seeing each other again. I got her in Marfa.”

  The memories of Marfa make me smile. “You did.” I sit up as the plane touches down. “I’m happy. I feel more alive with that noose no longer around my neck.”

  “For the record, Reese, I like every side that smiles.” With that million-dollar smile of his own, he says, “And if the offer for the right the fuck here is still open, I’m game.”

  The plane comes to a stop at our gate and I shrug, feigning indifference. “I’m afraid the offer’s expired.”

  Leaning over, he puts his lips against my ear, and whispers, “I’ll take a rain check.” He leaves me with a kiss to my neck and sits back in his chair like that didn’t send a surge of sex-tricity throughout my entire body. It did. It sooo did.

  At baggage claim, because our closeness has become obvious to everyone—Bryker, Becs, Claudia—we don’t bother hiding our feelings any longer. Danny takes hold of my hand while we’re waiting for our luggage to come down the belt. I glance at him, but don’t pull my hand away. Instead, I squeeze it, holding his just as tight.

  Forty-five minutes later, Danny stands with the others in the lobby of our hotel in Paris while I settle the rooms. After giving keys to Bryker, Becs, and Claudia, they leave, and I say, “I just saved the company money.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We’re staying together. You’re stuck with me now.”

  “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck with than you.”

  “You say the sweetest things, Mr. Weston,” I reply, shaking my derriere for him as I walk to the elevators.

  “Speaking of amazing asses—”

  “We weren’t speaking of asses.”

  “We are now, and yours is the best. Shake it for me, baby.”

  I do. I shake my ass with sass just because he asked. It’s not the same ass I had in college so I’m glad he likes it so much, and I’m happy to indulge his wish.

  Upon entering the room, I release a deep breath, the weight of everything gone from my shoulders, and my heart. It feels good to be free. It feels great to be with Danny. I flop down on the bed and close my eyes. “I slept, but I’m so tired.”

  “We should stay awake to get on the current time.”

  I roll onto my side and prop my head up on my hand. Watching him move around the room, I smile as he puts our suitcases together by the wardrobe. I decide to tease, though it’s really a tease wrapped in truth. “You’re too good-looking. You know that?”

  “I’ve been told.”

  I’m reaching for the pillow to throw at him but he lands next to me and traps my arms above my head before I have a chance. “You want to play?” I know he means a pillow fight, maybe tickling, being silly, but there’s this undertone that speaks directly to my lower half, causing my hips to seek out his. He hovers over me and there is no fight. I want him. I just do. From his body to his charm, his jaw to his jokes, his abs to his sincerity—everything about this man turns me into a sex fiend. But more than the physical, our hearts speak the same language. “You make me feel, Danny.”

  “Feel what?” he whispers, kissing my shoulder.

  “Everything, all at once.”

  A kiss is placed on my neck. “Is it too much?”

  “Always too much… and never enough.” My eyes drop closed and I murmur, “Never enough.” How did I live without this? How did I live without him? For years after I left, I thought I saw him. A man on the street. A dark-haired guy in line at the grocery store. I thought he would come. But it seems our heartache morphed into stubbornness or forgetfulness. His life was exciting, his fame growing. He moved on without me being a part of it. I looked at the magazines. I looked at him online. My life was a stark boring contrast to the glamorous world he lived in. I worked my ass off for years for the simplest praise, for measly pay raises, to build a name for myself in advertising.

  Ironically, our lives have been so intrinsically connected, but our love disjointed, pushed to the bottom of our priorities. Buried. I buried myself in work so the pain and tears wouldn’t bury me. Living in a state of perpetual denial, I denied us and the memories that haunted me. I closed my heart to that part of my soul and moved to New York.

  My achievements were hollow until Vittori allowed me to venture into the past, to remember, to allow that opening. How did I survive without his arms around me, without him? What was once hollow is now overflowing with feelings—happiness, love, peace. Lying in his arms, I realize how foolish it had been to think I could ever be without him. There is no me without him and by how he’s looking at me, there’s no him without me.

  He was the missing piece of my soul.

  He’ll be forever in my heart.

  He’s forever mine.

  And I his.

  His lips meet mine in a turn of passion, my breast kneaded as my breath is stolen. There’s no need for foreplay. Our hips clashing unbridled, needing more, craving the feel of him completing me again.

  My shirt is tugged up and my bra down. His mouth covers one of my nipples, lavishing me with his tongue, making me moan. Reaching down, I tug at his belt and win the battle before tackling the button and zipper. A shadow scraps across my breast as his chin grazes me, spiriting my desires to the surface. “Danny,” I whisper, too weak under this sexual spell to summon more.

  He’s freed, commando under his pants. My hand wraps around his length—soft skin over hard muscle. Hard for me. My body relaxes for his, under the influence of how much we turn each other on.

  My jeans are unbuttoned just as quickly, the zipper lowered. His hand is in my pants before I can catch my breath. Pillow talk turns dirty. “You’re so wet for me. You want me inside you?”

  “So much.”

  His lips are at my ear. Strong fingers begin working me over just where I want him most. “Do you like me fucking you with my fingers like this?”

  “Yes. That. So much.” My head tilts back, my mind going fuzzy in the sensations.

  But then he stops, and asks, “Or do you want me to fuck you properly?”

  I just want to come. God. So much. Too much. Too much of everything with this man. A breath steadies my mind, allowing me to think. “How do you want to fuck me?”

  “From behind.”

  If I weren’t lying down already, I’d surely collapse under his certainty. “I want that.”

  The right side of his mouth slides up. On anyone else, the half-grin would come off as sinister, conniving, or devious. On Danny, it makes me not only want to rip his clothes off and mine, but burn them so we stay naked like this forever. “I want that,” I repeat for no reason than I must be losing my senses again. He does that to me.

  “So to be clear. You want me to fuck you from behind?”

  “Good Lord.” My bottom lip is bit. “Why is that so hot?”

  “What?”

  “You talking to me like that.”

  His eyes are set on mine. His voice is steady and assured. “Everyone else treats you like you’re breakable. I treat you how you like to be treated—fuckable.”r />
  “Danny, fuck me. I don’t even care with what. I just need you inside me.”

  He chuckles.

  Inhaling a deep breath in protest, I do not approve of the lack of him touching me.

  Sliding off the bed, he strips off the rest of his clothes before turning his attention back to me. Taking off first my flats, and then my jeans, he watches me while I take off my shirt and bra. My breathing is harder than I like, but I don’t feel self-conscience in front of him. Not when he’s standing there looking at me like I’m the air he needs to breathe, the food that sustains him, the water that keeps him alive. He looks at me like no man other than him has ever looked at me. I’m pinned to the bed under his scorching gaze and my heart pounds in my chest, beating for him as I wait.

  The suspense is making me squirm as he centers himself on top of me. The weight of his body is sweet pressure, mine adapting to keep him exactly where he is. He asks, “Do we need condoms?” His question doesn’t make me think of the lives we lived apart. Like most would think. He’s genuine. His question is just as protective of me as it is him, if not even more so.

  “I trust you,” I reply. “Do you trust me?”

  “I do,” he says, and kisses me. “I trust you.” Readjusting his body, his lips part as I reach up running the tips of my fingers over the rough growth covering his jaw.

  Spreading my legs, he takes over the space unapologetically. My hands glide over his muscular shoulders and I hold on knowing our connection is going to intensify. Before he has a chance to move, I say, “Go slow.”

  With a smirk, he replies, “I thought you wanted fast.”

  “I meant with us.”

  Understanding sparks in his eyes. He pushes my hair back then holds my face. “I’ll go as fast or slow as you want, baby. I’ll let you lead.”

  His eyes are too intense, his feelings long escaped into emotion. Looking away, I focus on the space between our chests. “Stop being so perfect.”

  “It comes naturally.”

  “That’s what worries me.”

  “Reese, look at me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.” When I finally look up, I’m met with his melting browns—clear, shining, and seductive. “I’m not perfect. Don’t fool yourself. But what I am is sure that we’re good together. We always were.”

  “Then why didn’t we make it the first time?”

  “We weren’t ready.”

  “Ready for what?” I wait with bated breath.

  “Ready for forever.”

  Ready for forever.

  I lower my eyes, the impact of his words striking me in the heart.

  Ready for our forever.

  God, how I love this man. I take his face in my hands, lifting up until our lips meet. His plush. Mine determined. His patient. Mine rushing. We’re balanced in the simplest of pleasures. When we part, I sigh contented. With our lips still touching, I say, “I’m going to turn over.”

  His body leaves mine and I maneuver onto my stomach. “I’m yours, Danny. My body is yours. Now fuck me like you promised.”

  Just like every other time, he takes his time, running his fingers over my back, writing messages I can’t interpret. Until now.

  I.

  Love.

  You.

  Goose bumps scatter across my skin, my soul bared to his, an exposure that only happens when our hearts are honest. My eyes drop closed. I love you, too. A squiggly line leads his hands to part and go to my ribs and lower. He rises up, bringing my hips with him. His chest is pressed against me and his tongue finds my spine. Slowly, oh so slowly, he tortures by teasing, leaving a wet trail until he reaches my lower back. With his thumbs circling the divots, I arch. Hands tighten as his tongue finds the top of my crack. “I’m going to go down on you.” He gives me fair warning.

  He’s fast. His head slips between my legs, his back on the mattress. “Lower.”

  I lower myself onto his masterful mouth, but he pulls me farther and holds me in place. Resting the top of my head on the pillow beneath me, I open my mouth needing air. I use one of my hands to touch him however I can—his hair, his ear, his jaw, and then his neck. When I move back to the jaw, I can feel the strength as he opens and closes, sucking me into his world, into his mouth.

  As if called to do so, my hips start gyrating and he ends up right where he needs to be. “Right there. God, yes, Danny.”

  He replies through a lustful moan as if he can’t get enough of me and despite my valiant efforts to hold on longer, I succumb to his talented mouth. As soon as the tremors cease firing through my body, Danny’s up and positioned. “Fuck,” he says, when the tip of his cock touches the wet warmth at the apex of my thighs. “You’re so hot, baby.”

  “I’m burning alive, you make me feel so good.”

  His cock eases in, his patience gone. “You’re on fucking fire.”

  I exhale as he replaces the air that once filled my body with his own. Inhaling him into me, I find peace in the middle of ecstasy. “Oh God!” I shake, another orgasm hitting hard.

  He moves faster, his breath covering my back as our bodies slide together. Each thrust punctuated with a definitive grunt that comes from deep within his chest. A chant of persuasion rolls off his tongue, “I love you, Reese, beautiful Reese.”

  Then he’s coming and with no barriers between us, my body reacts to the pulsing. I fist the sheets beneath us and let go, falling like we both already have, all over again.

  31

  REESE

  The shoot is perfection, just like I hoped. I may have quit, but my job is officially done once we wrap. One more setup outside tomorrow and I’m free from Klein Advertising and Keaton forever. He won’t be able to argue that I wasn’t fantastic at my job. Not with the Vittori campaign on my résumé.

  Fingers crossed he doesn’t actually send someone to fuck things up like he threatened. I’ll just keep an eye out just in case.

  Leaning against the wall behind a large fan, I watch as Danny and Claudia stand in formal attire against a picturesque window highlighting the Eiffel Tower in the background. They’re pretending to be what Danny and I are, in love. I have no doubt in my heart or head anymore.

  He was always the one.

  I just naïvely detoured from the right path. So seeing them now, I can tell the difference. I see it in his body, in the way he looks at her, in the way he touches her. It’s not the same as when he’s with me. He’s sexy, even with her, and the camera will never notice the difference in their relationship. But I will. I do.

  I smile, and he glances over, catching me, sending a small smile my way that’s not seen on his mouth, but in his eyes. He’s so handsome, even more so in the tuxedo they tailored to fit him. When Bryker calls for the end of today’s shoot, I meet Danny at the water cooler. “Hi,” I say, much like a schoolgirl speaking to her crush. I shrug knowing I’m ridiculous, but I don’t care. I’m in love and he makes me feel giddy.

  His eyebrow quirks up amused. “Hi there yourself, pretty.” He gets me a cup of water before filling his own. When he stands up, he asks, “You’re awful smiley today. It’s good to see.”

  “It’s good to feel this happy.”

  “Last night, it was good.”

  “It was.” I giggle again as if cued by Pavlov training just from the mere mention of last night.

  He tucks some hair behind my ear and kisses my cheek. Then he whispers, “Wait until you find out what I have in store for you tonight.”

  I lick my lips and gulp hard.

  A knock at the door draws the crew’s attention. “Hold that thought.” I scurry away, even though I was enjoying that spot against him in the corner. Wondering what’s on the other side of this door, I pray it’s not a spy Keaton sent. When I open the door, a Frenchman—tall and dark hair, with thin lips so tight one would think he was sucking on a lemon—asks in a thick accent, “Daniel Weston?”

  Danny comes to the door and the man hands him an envelope. “I’ve been asked to ha
nd deliver this letter to you and to tell you on behalf of the sender that you have been served.”

  “What?” Danny asks, looking as confused as I feel.

  “My apologies, sir. I am merely repeating what I was told to say. Have a good day.”

  “Fuck.” Danny’s eyes land on mine before he turns back and opens the letter.

  My heart stops in my chest. My breath comes up short, trapped in my throat while he silently reads.

  His head lowers, his eyes close, and he sighs. When I reach over to touch his wrist, he looks up, and says, “It will be all right. Don’t worry.”

  Nodding seems to be the only thing I can do, my breath still caught in a lump, but I can hear the lie underneath his steady tone, I can see it written on his face. He’s upset and all he can think about is making sure I don’t worry. He walks away and all the air escapes before I take a deep inhale. I give him a minute although that’s the last thing I want to do.

  The windows are the only space that seems to give any privacy though all of Paris is just beyond the glass. As he stares out the window, I stand there dumbfounded watching him while he pulls out his phone and makes a call.

  Keaton promised revenge and he delivered, twelve fold. If he can’t hurt me, he’ll hurt Danny, the only man I’ve ever truly loved and now I’ve caused him heartache and probably more.

  I start walking, stepping over extension cords, and around a director’s chair. I go to Danny as quietly as I can, needing to be there for him, for us. For me. Out of the corner of Danny’s eyes, he sees me but turns to face back to the windows. “It’s me,” he whispers into the receiver. “Call me as soon as you get this message.” When he hangs up, he turns around. “I need to call my lawyer.”

  One more tentative step forward and I say, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “He said we were in breach of contract. He more than hinted that he would do this, but I didn’t take him seriously. I disregarded the threat.” I step forward, pleading with my hands on his chest. “I’m sorry, Danny. I didn’t believe him, but I should have.”