“You should. He’s great live. The Hotel Café is a great place to see him. You go.”
I keep looking over at him, but he won’t look at me. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“You should. You should go out. Take your friend.” He nods, like he’s trying to convince himself.
“You really don’t have anyone else who could babysit them?”
“Nah. You go.” He nods again, still not looking over at me.
“Okay. I’ll go.”
11
Shane
It’s almost eight, Friday night.
The four of us went for a walk on the bluffs right after dinner. I watched Willa watch the sunset over the ocean. I watched how her skin tone changed as the color of the sky changed and couldn’t decide if she looked prettier against the glow of an electric pink, fiery orange, or muted purple backdrop. Because she’s always pretty. She’s ever-changing and always pretty and as untouchable as the clouds.
The kids are asleep in bed.
Nico’s supposed to take the stage at the bar in Hollywood at nine thirty, but Willa and I have been taking our sweet-ass time clearing the table and loading up the dishwasher.
I’m having a beer. Fuck it. It’s Friday night. I’ve been drinking coffee for almost a week now and I can still sleep. Lavender trumps caffeine, apparently. One beer can’t hurt. Now that I’ve drained almost a whole bottle, it hurts a little less to stand this close to her. Now that I’ve texted Nico to wish him luck, now that I think about how much fangirl ass he’ll be getting, I feel a little less guilty about how many times and ways I’ve imagined drilling his little sister. I mean, his sister is hot. She’s going to get with someone eventually. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if that someone was me?
Wouldn’t everything be better if I had another beer?
But I don’t. Because in the back of my dad mind, I’m always reminding myself that I might have to drive my kid to the hospital at any given moment. So that’s it for me tonight.
But she’s so fucking pretty.
And this is going to be her first night away from me since she started staying with us.
She washes her hands in the sink, dries them, and comes over to the island counter that I’ve been leaning against while ogling her like some pervert at a bar.
“You should probably start heading out soon.”
“I guess.”
“You going by yourself?”
“No, I’m meeting up with my friend.”
“Oh, good. Which friend?”
“Harley.”
Who the fuck is Harley? “Oh good. Cool. Harley. Sounds like a fun guy.”
“Harley is a girl. She’s the friend I told you about. From college.”
“Even better.”
“Do you want to go with us? Or meet us there?”
Fuck yes, obviously, yes. I want to meet you anywhere. I want to go with you everywhere. Just not anywhere your brother can see us together.
“I can’t think of anyone I can call to babysit on such short notice.”
“Right. So you’re just going to hang out here by yourself?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping myself entertained at night. Kind of a necessity when you’re an insomniac.”
“But you aren’t an insomniac anymore.”
“Good point.” Everything is different now that you’re here. Don’t go.
“I don’t have to go. I can see him play some other time.”
Yes. I’ll come to your room. You can sit on my face all night, and I will make you scream into the pillow. I will fuck us both senseless, and then things won’t be weird between us anymore. Or it’ll be even weirder, but it won’t matter because we fucked each other senseless.
“No, you should definitely go. I know how excited he is for you to see him on stage. Seriously, it would mean a lot to him. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got two plus ones, but I’ll text Harley to let her know she can invite Remi.”
Who the fuck is Remi? “Remi. He sounds fun too.”
“Remi is also a girl.”
“Good. Good for her.”
I watch her type out a text. Her thumb hovers over the Send icon as she looks up at me through those long dark eyelashes. “Last chance.”
“Maybe next time. When Margo has the kids.”
She sends the text and slides her phone into her back pocket. “Next time. I’ve never been to The Hotel Café before. Obviously. I’m not sure what to wear. Nico said it’s casual.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely casual. You can just go like that. With maybe a bulky sweater or a puffy jacket over your T-shirt or something.”
“Sounds about right. Maybe I should change into a pair of old sweatpants and wear a baseball cap.”
“You’d still look good,” I mutter.
The awkward silence that follows is a giant gaping hole that I wish I could crawl into, but no. It’s there. I’m here. She’s here, staring down at the counter and gently stroking the smooth concrete with the tip of her index finger while exhaling. No snarky retort. No eye roll. Just this silent, honest torture.
“You need me back here to make breakfast?”
“Are you not coming home tonight?”
“I was just going to crash at Harley’s. She lives in Hollywood.”
“Ahh.”
“There’s some other bar she wants to go to after Nico’s show.”
“Cool.”
“And then she wants to go to some club after that, but I doubt I’ll be able to stay awake that long.”
“Is Nico going with you guys?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I’ll be back in the morning. To drop the kids off at the birthday party.”
“Right. The trampoline one?”’
“Yes. Unless you need me…”
Fuck yes, I need you, I want you, I crave you… Can’t you see that?
“I can definitely manage breakfast. You have a good time. Not too good.”
“I will have exactly the right amount of good time.”
“So will I.”
“I have no doubt… So I’m gonna go change into some overalls and an oversize sweat shirt, maybe some rain boots, and be on my way.”
“You’re driving?”
“Yes. The truck. Not the Volvo.”
“You’re not drinking, then?”
“I’m driving to Harley’s, and we’re going to walk to the thing. She lives like five blocks away.”
“You’re walking? In Hollywood? On Cahuenga? At night? Absolutely not, young lady. I’ll give you money for an Uber.”
“Oh my God, it’s only five blocks.”
“Does your brother know you plan to walk to his show?”
“No, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care. Is there rampant gang activity in that part of Hollywood or something?”
“No.”
“Then I think I’ll be okay. There will be three of us. I am a big girl. You do realize that, right? I can handle all kinds of things.” She straightens up. She’s looking at me, really looking at me, daring me to look back at her.
This girl. She can explain sunsets to a five-year-old and convey her maturity to a twenty-eight-year-old, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m the one who can’t handle her. She is so many things, and I don’t want to risk losing any of them.
“I’m just looking out for you. You’re kind of my responsibility right now.”
“Even on my night off?” She arches an eyebrow and takes a step closer.
“You’re still my kids’ nanny. You’ll always be Nico’s little sister.”
“I know who I am. And I’m a lot more than that.” She frowns and pushes herself away from the counter. “I keep wondering when you’re going to figure that out,” she says as she brushes past me.
I hear the door to her room close, and I don’t have a fucking clue what just happened.
But if she doesn’t like that I’m th
e responsible guy, then it’s not my job to explain everything to her. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been. It’s one thing to fuck around with someone on location, but this is real life. This is my life. She’s better off with some twenty-four-year old asshat who can take her to hipster downtown cocktail bars on a Tuesday night and to a party in Los Feliz on Saturday because his buddy’s house-sitting for Jon Hamm and it’s totally cool for them to hang out there! And then they can just fuck all night in his shitty studio apartment that’s off of Fairfax and grab Sunday brunch, maybe catch a matinee at The Grove.
Fuck, that sounds great.
I wouldn’t trade my kids for anything, but just one Saturday night of mindless twenty-four-year-old fucking and then doing whatever on a Sunday? I could have used one of those. I could still use one of those.
But that’s my life, not hers.
Her future is still wide open.
“Okay, I’m off,” she says from the doorway.
Fucking hell.
She’s wearing a tiny leather jacket over an even tinier top that does not cover her belly button, and why does she have to wear those black high heel boots over those tight faded jeans? Why should any other guy be allowed to see how good her ass looks in those boots and those jeans? Why is her hair all fluffed up? She put on eyeliner? Lip gloss? Oh hell no, little girl.
“Not exactly the outfit vibe we discussed.”
“If I wear a bulky sweater and sweatpants, Harley will just force me to wear something of hers that’s even sluttier.” She shrugs. “Good night.” She turns to walk toward the garage, and I watch that ass walk away from me, and fuck you Other Guys—fuck you for thinking about all the things you want to do to that ass. I know what you’re thinking.
“Wait.”
She pauses, resting her hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“There’s no garage door opener in the truck. I’ll close the garage door for you.”
She lowers her head, laughing. “Great. Thanks.”
She flings open the door, and I catch it before it slams against the wall.
Well well, look who has a fiery temper.
Fuck, she smells good.
Fuck.
“Drive safe,” I say sternly, knowing it’ll piss her off. “Don’t drink too much.”
“I’ll drink however much I want to—it’s my night off.”
I shut the door behind myself, grab her arm, and pull her to me.
“Don’t drive angry.”
She glares up at me, chest heaving, eyes shining. “Stop trying to push me away when you know I can’t go anywhere.”
Goddammit, why does she have to know everything?
I put both hands around her gorgeous, exasperating, frowning face. “I’m the one who can’t go anywhere.”
“Then let me stay with you.”
I lower my lips as close to hers as I can without kissing them. “If I do, I won’t ever want you to leave.”
She stares hungrily at my mouth. “Good.”
Her purse hits the floor just as my lips crash against hers.
Those lips, those glistening, juicy lips. I’ve heard so many surprising things come out of them, but this little humming sound that she’s making as her tongue tangles with mine is my favorite.
She’s spicy, but she tastes so sweet.
I push her two steps back, against the side of my Land Rover, lift her up by her thighs, and she wraps her legs tight around my waist. Hands gripping the side of my shirt, she gasps, and her head drops back as I tug on her hair so I can kiss her smooth neck.
“Oh my God, Shane,” she whispers, arching her back.
“This is how we say good night in America,” I grumble into her ear.
After a beat, we both burst out laughing for about three seconds—because that was a bad line, but I had to say it. And then she’s threading her fingers through my hair and we’re kissing again.
The truth is, I’ve never kissed someone with this much feeling without having a director yell “cut!” before changing camera angles.
She wriggles around. It’s fucking unbearable how much she’s wriggling and writhing around. I realize she’s removing her leather jacket and tossing it aside. She can move around more freely now, and there’s one less layer of clothing between my chest and her beautiful swelling tits. I lower her until her feet are back on the floor so I can slip my fingers up under that blouse that is far too small and place my hand on one soft, perky breast. Her bra is lacey, and her nipple is so hard.
She strokes my throbbing hard dick through my jeans.
“Fucking hell, Willa. You’re making me crazy.”
This has already gone too far.
She’s unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. She puts her hand on mine, the one that’s squeezing her ass, that sexy little heart-shaped ass, and brings it around, slides it down inside her panties. “I want you to feel how wet I am for you.”
“Jesus.” The slippery warmth of her is so much more than proof of how much she wants me. It’s proof that there’s life after Dad Dick. “Willa. We need to stop.”
“No, don’t stop.”
She slowly turns around to face the car door, my hand still down the front of her jeans.
She places her palms flat against the car and rocks back and forth against my hand while rubbing her ass against my crotch.
My groan echoes around the garage, and my fingers find her clit and rub slow and steady.
My other hand reaches around to massage her breast, and there are about fifty other things I want to do to this woman, but right now I just need to make her come fast and quiet.
She is already right there on the edge.
I whisper into her ear. “You wanna come for me right now, Willa?”
“Yes.”
“This is who you are? This is what you want?”
“Yes. Yes!”
“You better stay quiet.”
“Uh-huh.”
My fingers slip inside her. She moans as she clenches around them. She is so hot and wet and tight. She reaches behind herself to grab on to my hair and whimpers while I fuck her with my fingers. I bite down on the fleshy part of her shoulder—not hard, but I can tell she likes it.
“Oh shit,” she sighs.
She starts to undulate and moan. I have to let go of her glorious tit so I can cover her mouth because I can tell she isn’t going to be quiet at all.
I rub hard and fast against her clit to make her buck and swear and scream my name into the palm of my hand, and I don’t stop until she’s clenched up one final time, I don’t pull my hand out of her panties until the aftershocks have subsided and she’s collapsed against my chest. My breaths match hers. She turns to face me, runs her fingers through her hair, runs her fingers through my hair, kisses me tenderly.
“I’m…I’m gonna stay.” Her voice is trembling. “Should I stay?”
Fuck, she seems so young and innocent all of a sudden.
I rest my forehead against hers, catching my breath, before letting go of her. “No. You should go. Nico’s expecting you. Your friends are waiting. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes, which shouldn’t be sexy at all, but it totally is. “Really? Which part?”
I pick up her jacket and purse for her while she zips and straightens herself up.
“I have to change. I can’t go like this.”
Five minutes later, she’s changed her clothes, and she’s backing out of the garage. I refrain from reminding her to drive safe and not drink too much. I wait until she’s out of sight before shutting the garage door.
Well. That wasn’t too shabby for a Friday night in the Palisades.
After checking on the kids, to make sure they’re still fast asleep, and taking care of myself in a very quick shower, I send Willa a text: I lied. I’m not sorry. But I shouldn’t have done that.
A minute later, I get a reply.
WILLA: I’m not sorry either. But I’m very glad you did
that. I just wish you would have let me get you off too.
I nearly swallow my tongue.
ME: Great, but it’s illegal to text while driving here and also very dangerous.
Willa: Calm down. I pulled over.
ME: Good girl.
WILLA: I’m really not.
ME: Yeah, I’m starting to get the hint.
WILLA: Well, I have to hit the road again. I don’t want to miss Nico’s set. Thanks for being so responsible for my well-being. I’ll be sure to tell my brother you’re taking such good care of me.
ME: Not funny.
WILLA: Kinda funny.
ME: Let me know when you get there.
WILLA: Yes sir.
I am in so much trouble.
Just as I had suspected, Willa Todd smells fucking delicious inside and out, and I know that I won’t sleep again until I’ve tasted every inch of her too.
12
Willa
“Okay, don’t look now, but I think that guy over there was in that movie last year with whatsername from Twilight where she was a singer. Or maybe she was a nurse. Or was it Hermione?” Harley’s roommate Remi might be an idiot.
“I didn’t see it.”
“Neither did I—don’t look, but he’s really cute and he keeps checking you out.”
“I’m not going to look, and I don’t know who you’re talking about.” We’re seated at one end of a long table. The Hotel Café is crowded, mostly filled with young women my age who are here to see my brother, and I wish he would take the stage already so this person would stop talking.
“Okay, well, he’s super cute and his friend looks really familiar too.”
There’s a guy on stage who’s setting up microphones and a keyboard and drums. Is he my brother’s roadie? Is that what you call him even if my brother’s not on the road? Does that mean my brother will be starting soon? How is it possible that my panties are this wet, even though I changed them before coming here?
Harley puts her hand on my shoulder. “Willa’s living with a much cuter, much more famous actor, Rem. She’s not going to go slumming with no-name below the title actors that she doesn’t recognize.”
Sleeper Page 10
