by J. Kenner
He looks surprised, and I shrug. "I told you. I Googled you. Why didn't you tell me?"
"No point. I only take her up to keep my license."
I shake my head, confused. "I don't get any of this. Why?"
"I like to face my fears."
And that's when I get it.
That's the moment I see the piece of the puzzle that's been eluding me. When I understand the whole big picture in all it's scary, horrible mess.
When I know that this might very well be the night that destroys us. Because I've known since the night I met him that Lyle was broken, but I went and fell in love with him anyway.
And now...
Well, now I have to find out if he loves me too.
And if he does, is he going to stick and heal, or is he going to push me away? Just one more desire he avoids? One more hair shirt to assuage his guilt?
Tentatively, I take a step toward him, then another and another until I'm so close I can almost hear his heart beat.
"You like to face your fears?" I repeat, then continue before he has time to answer. "The easy ones, maybe. Like tall buildings and thrill rides and private planes. But you're still a slave to the hard ones, Lyle. You're still afraid of letting go of Jenny."
At first there's only surprise on his face, but it's pushed out quickly by anger.
Clearly, I've touched a nerve.
I lick my lips, gathering courage, because I intend to keep on touching it.
"I was right that first night, Lyle. You needed a wall to rail against. The women you hired weren't for sex. They were for punishment. To punish yourself for what happened to Jenny."
"You have no idea," he says harshly. "No fucking idea what you're talking about."
"The hell I don't. It's all here in this condo. You're punishing yourself for Jenny's death. Punishing yourself by not living your own life. You're living her career, Lyle, not yours. Her dream condo. Her ideal career."
"No," he says, but I ignore him. I know I'm right, and I press on, forcing myself to speak, because otherwise I'm going to cry.
"That's why you don't do relationships. It's not because you've been focusing on your career or because you don't know if your date wants you or is only chasing a celebrity. That's not even an issue. It's all about punishment."
He's standing still, his expression stoic.
I have no idea what he's thinking. All I can do is continue.
"And not just punishment, Lyle, but fear. You lost your mom. You lost Jenny. What else are you going to lose, right? And it's scary--I get that."
Tears stream down my face, and I brush them away with my palms. "Losing my mom and Andy about destroyed me, but I'm also so grateful for the time I had with them."
"Sugar," he says, his voice hoarse. He reaches for me, but I'm not ready for him to touch me yet. I must get this out. He has to hear all of it.
"Do you want to know the really scary, ironic part? I'm in love with you. Completely. And I'm certain that you're in love with me, too. Maybe it was fast. Maybe that makes it scarier. But it's real.
"And I'm terrified you're going to push me away because it scares you." I put my hands on his shoulders, then press my body against his. "And you know what? If you do, I'll survive. I'll be pissed as hell and hurt and all sorts of nasty emotions. But I'll survive. And I won't regret this feeling. Not ever. Because it's real," I say, pressing my hand over his heart. "Even if it's terrifying."
I draw a shaky breath. My adrenalin rush has worn off, and now I feel a little mortified that I went off on him like that. But the fear is real. This is a man who didn't go looking for love. We snuck up on each other, creeping backwards and with blinders.
He wasn't ready, and I get that.
I just hope he's ready now.
I take a step back, certain he needs space, but he yanks me to him, then kisses me so hard I'm sure my lips are bruised.
"Was that a goodbye kiss?" I ask when my heart stops pounding.
"That was an I don't like what you were saying kiss."
I nod, disappointed.
But then he draws me closer and gently closes his mouth over mine. He kisses me softly. Tenderly. And when he pulls away, my entire body is buzzing with anticipation.
"And that one?"
"That kiss," he says, "means you were right."
"Oh." I let myself bask for just a moment. "Right about what exactly?"
"Everything," he says. "But mostly, that I love you, too."
24
"Say it again," I demand, feeling as though I could melt into his arms right there.
"I love you," he says. "You, Sugar Laine." He cups my face. "I love you."
I sigh deeply. "I like the sound of that."
"I'm glad," he says. "I like it, too."
"Have I mentioned that I love you, too?"
"You might have said something about it. But maybe you could tell me again."
I flash a wicked grin. "I might. Or I might make you earn the words."
"Oh, really?" I hear the amusement and interest in his voice. "And how am I supposed to do that?"
"I was thinking that stripping me naked and fucking me senseless would be a good start," I admit. "But I'm open to suggestions."
He doesn't answer, but I see the mischief in his eyes, and when he walks toward me and hauls me over his shoulder, I'm completely unprepared.
"Lyle!" I squeal.
"Hush," he says, lightly smacking my rear and he carries me to the bedroom. "I'm a man on a mission, remember? I believe the assignment is to fuck you senseless?"
He tosses me onto the bed, and I lean back on my elbows, looking at him. "Nice to know you follow orders," I say.
"I'm feeling remarkably amenable right now. You could ask me for anything."
His words flow over me, soft and comfortable, and I hold out my hand. "But what could I possibly ask for? As I have you, there's nothing else I want."
"Sugar..."
I've never heard my name with such longing and heat, and as he starts to undress, I keep my eyes on him, letting that heat slide into me, filling me up.
He peels off his shirt first, and I sigh with prurient desire as I take in those strong, familiar arms, his muscled abs. I know he's been working hard, and it shows. But as gorgeous as the view is, what I want is the feel of him against me.
"Hurry," I say. "I like the preview, but I'm desperate for the main attraction."
His eyes lock with mine, and I see my desire reflected back at me, so potent and powerful it feels almost like a blow.
"Get naked," he orders, and I don't hesitate. I strip and toss my clothes aside as he finishes doing the same. Then he pounces onto the bed, making me laugh as he rolls us over so that I'm on top of him, my hands on his hard body.
"Kiss me," he demands, and I raise an eyebrow.
"I thought I was calling the shots."
"How about we do it together?" he asks, and since that sounds wonderful, I don't bother to answer. I just bend forward, my breasts rubbing his chest as my mouth closes over his.
As soon as my lips meet his, it's as if lightning has struck. The kiss is wild. Hot. Electrical.
It's deep and naughty and so fucking hot.
It's the kind of kiss that's a standin for sex--but right now, even that kind of kiss isn't good enough. I want the real thing. Hell, I'm demanding it.
I'm straddling his waist, and as we kiss, I slide down, feeling his cock brushing me. Teasing me.
"Lyle," I murmur, because I can't wait any longer. I know it's fast. I know there's been no foreplay. But I want this. I need it. To be connected to him. To be us.
"Yes," he says. "God, Sugar, yes."
He holds my hips steady as I lift myself, then tease us both as I slowly position his cock at my core. I lower myself just a smidge, taking in only the tip, then watching as Lyle arches up, groaning with a sound that could be pleasure or pain, or maybe a little of both.
"Want more?" I ask, my thighs burning as I slowly lift and lower myse
lf, tormenting us both until I don't think I can stand it any longer.
Neither can he, because he grabs my hips and forces me down even as he thrusts up, so that he penetrates me so hard and so deep that I cry out, unsure where he ends and I begin.
"Yes." The word is torn from me, and as it echoes in the room, I ride him, my muscles straining as I lift and lower myself on his cock, as he holds my hips to steady me as he matches me, thrust for thrust.
I watch his face, our eyes locked in a shared gaze as passionate as the meeting of our bodies. I see the explosion building him, and I feel it building in me. "Close," I say, and it's the only word I can manage.
He understands, and he releases one of my hips, then slides that hand between my legs, stroking my clit as we continue this frenzied ride.
"Come with me, Sugar," he demands as his body tightens beneath mine. As he grows tense. As that same explosion builds inside me, too. A wild electrical storm that seems to coalescence in my core, growing smaller and tighter and more intense until finally--when Lyle cries, "now," it all explodes outward in a universe of stars and colors and vibrant light.
I'm completely shattered, and Lyle along with me, the pieces of us mingling as we slowly--slowly--come back together, then hold each other tight, bodies quivering, arms twined, as the world starts to rotate again.
"Wow," I say when I can breathe again. I'm beside him, my head on his chest. "That was--"
"I know," he says. "Incredible."
"I'm completely wiped."
"Me, too," he says, then kisses my shoulder. "Want to do it again?"
I laugh, then roll over in his arms. "Absolutely."
* * *
I don't remember falling asleep, but I wake up with my body curled up beside his, my back to his chest, and his arm resting on my waist, holding me in place.
His body is warm, like a furnace, and I want to stay like this forever, curled up in a limbo filled with streams of sunlight, safe in the arms of the man I love.
Forever, however, is going to have to take a backseat to mundane reality.
I slide out of bed, then slip on the T-shirt he'd been wearing last night. It hits me mid-thigh and smells of Lyle, and right then my idea of heaven is to spend the entire day in this shirt, wrapped up in the scent of him and the memories of last night.
In the bathroom, I check my face in the mirror, wondering if I look different. I've never been in love before, and I've certainly never been in love with a man who loves me back.
I bend close, my nose almost to the glass. My eyes are bright, my cheeks just a little pink, my lips still slightly swollen, a look that a lot of women pay big bucks for.
All in all, I look like a woman who's not only in love, but who spent the night making love.
And I have to say, that whole scenario is damn good for my complexion.
My thoughts amuse me, and I'm smiling as I head down the hallway toward the kitchen for a bottle of water.
But that smile freezes and then fades the moment I round the corner.
I'm not alone.
Both Evelyn and Natasha are on the couch right in front of me, and at my gasp, they both turn their heads in my direction. Their eyes go wide, and Natasha jumps to her feet and says, "Oh, shit, Laine. I had no idea he wasn't alone."
"And I had no idea there was any meat to our manufactured engagement," Evelyn adds with amusement in her voice. She looks me up and down. "Or am I misreading the signs?"
I have no idea what to say, so I stand there like a dolt, certain my entire body has turned lobster-red, and wondering if they'd notice if I bolted back to the bedroom and hid under the covers.
It's one split-second of embarrassment, but it feels like hours. And then all the embarrassment fades as I hear a voice behind me in the hall. "Fake engagement," Lyle says as he reaches me and puts a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes lightly. "Real relationship."
"That's great!" Natasha aims her broad grin right at me.
Evelyn's smiling as well, her attention entirely on Lyle. "There might be hope for you yet, Iowa."
"Might be," he agrees, then bends to kiss my head. He lingers for a moment, then steps beside me, taking my hand as he leads me into the living room. He's wearing a pair of gray sweatpants I'd noticed hanging on his closet door, no shirt, and an air of absolute cool and confidence despite the truly awkward circumstances.
"Sorry about this Nat," he says. "Didn't occur to me to call and tell you to work from home or come in late. My office is in the back of the condo," he adds for my benefit. "A converted third bedroom."
"No worries," she says, rising. "At least not from my end." She looks at me and shrugs. "Sorry, again."
"I'm fine. I was just surprised."
"And I'm here because we need to talk about these contracts before I go chat with Charlie. I bumped into Nat in the elevator and we rode up together," she adds, which explains how she arrived without ringing ahead, since Lyle explained to me the elevator doesn't open on his floor without a code once he's locked it down.
"Fine," Lyle says, his voice clipped. "Let's talk."
"Why don't I make coffee?" I'm not desperate for pants anymore--the T-shirt is big enough to be a dress--but I also don't need to be in the thick of it. Not when there's obviously some undercurrent of business tension that I don't understand.
"I'll help," Natasha says, hurrying toward the kitchen with me.
The kitchen is on the far side of the open area, set off by a bar that forms a ninety-degree angle to mark the kitchen's edge. "Who's Charlie?" I ask as she starts to run water for his coffee maker.
"Attorney. He's reviewing the next three Blue Zenith contracts."
At the same time, I hear Evelyn chide, "Wait too long and you'll miss the chance. Arizona Spring needs to lock in the cast soon."
"What's going on?" I ask quietly.
Nat takes the pot to the far corner where the coffee maker is tucked in by a mug tree, then starts to pour it into the machine as she explains that the next three movies were specifically written for the M. Sterious character. "Once Lyle signed on, they wanted to lock him in to multiple movies." She lifts a shoulder, as if that's all just business-as-usual, then starts to scoop coffee into the filter.
"But that's good, right? So why does Evelyn sound irritated?" Except for the fact that I've come to know Lyle enough to understand that his dream isn't to make it big in blockbusters, it seems to me that big movie roles written for an actor are something an agent should be jumping up and down about. But Evelyn's tone definitely isn't jumpy.
"Noticed that, did you?"
She glances toward the living area where Evelyn and Lyle are deep in conversation. "So, the script for the first movie was awesome when it first came in. Really great character stuff. Lots of meat for an actor to sink his teeth into. He completely covered those pages with notes, he was so into it. I mean, so many notes I had to ask the studio to email a clean copy just so he could read the actual lines."
"What do you mean by 'when it first came in'?"
She makes a face. "After The Price of Ransom started really kicking ass, they wanted to lock Lyle in. So they changed M's character. He went from being a transformed villain who sacrifices himself to save the world to a guy who saves one of the secondary characters, has an epiphany, and joins the happy Blue Zenith family."
She shrugs. "It doesn't suck, but it sure as hell doesn't pop like it used to. But the other three are sure to make a shit-ton of money, and if he signs those contracts, Lyle will be locked in to all three with a significant backend. Percentage of the profits, I mean," she adds when I look blank.
"And to do the three he has to turn down Arizona Spring."
"Pretty much.
So that's it," she says as she pours the now-brewed coffee into four mugs. "By the way," she adds, taking two mugs as I grab the others, "I'm glad we've connected again. And I'm especially happy you're with Lyle. I've always thought that he--" She cuts herself off with a shake of her head, then starts over. "I've alwa
ys thought that he needed someone."
"Someone real," I say, and when she meets my eyes with perfect understanding, I know that she knows about the call girls. "That's how we met," I say, because I like her and want her to understand. "I was desperate for cash and--"
"Doesn't matter how you met," Nat says. "I can see that it's real now. It's there in the way he looks at you." Her smile is genuine. "He's a great boss and a great guy, and I'm really happy for him. For you both."
"There was never anything between you?" I ask, the question surprising me because I'm not the jealous type. Then again, I've never been with a guy I cared enough about to rouse those feelings.
"I respect the hell out of him, but no. He's hot, don't get me wrong, but he's not a guy I have sparks with."
"What about Riley?"
"Mmm," she says. "That's a longer conversation for a later time, like three weeks from never."
"Fair enough," I say, laughing. "At any rate, I'm glad you're happy for us." I mean it, and I'm surprised by how much someone's blessing pleases me. "I guess we should go before the coffee gets cold."
"True that," she says and leads the way to Evelyn and Lyle.
"--that I'm going to call him today about a real estate question," Lyle is saying as we approach.
"Will do," Evelyn says, standing. "I'll get out of your hair."
She looks at me, her mouth curving down thoughtfully. "You know, Lyle, you're getting hot and heavy into rehearsals next week. Maybe you should clear your schedule until then. You've got the SCF brunch on Sunday, of course, but other than that, I think maybe you should just chill. Recharge a bit before you dive in."
He glances at me with a smile full of possibility. "I think that sounds like a damn good idea."
25
"What do you think?" Lyle asks, once Evelyn has gone and Nat's disappeared into the back office. "Clear our schedules for the three evenings until the brunch, and--"
"I can't," I say, thinking of Greg and Anderson and the flip house. Then I frown, mentally rewinding. "Wait. Evenings?"
"Didn't you already clear your other schedule so that you could work on the flip?"
"You remembered that?" The realization is like a gentle squeeze around my heart.
"Of course. In fact, why don't I help?"
"Really?"
"Well, I don't know how much help I'll be, but I can clean paint brushes or take a mallet to anything you need knocked down."
