“Um, am I fucking missing something here? You ditching me?”
She laughs, the sound light and airy, but I’m feeling kind of pissed off right now, so it doesn’t have the effect it normally does.
“Don’t be stupid, West. Of course I’m not ditching you, you needy bastard.” She grins, and I can’t help but smile back at her using my term. “It’ll just look suspect if I’m the last one left in the car with you. It’ll look better if you drop us off first and then your boys. Then, you can come back to my hotel once you’re alone.”
“Good call.”
She’s smart, my girl.
My girl?
Hang the fuck on. When exactly did I start thinking of her as mine?
No need to go getting carried away, West. You’re just fucking her, remember?
“I’m a genius. What can I say?” She puts her hands on her hips and does a little wiggle.
“And a little devious, Pins. But I like it. It’s fucking hot.”
We round everyone up and head out the back exit of the bar to my waiting limo.
Of course the paparazzi are out there.
“Vaughn, look this way! It’s been a while since you were out partying. Have you missed it? Who are the girls?”
“Julian, where’s your costar tonight?”
“Gabe, is it true you and Marti Shaw are together?”
“Vaughn, are you still bitter about what Piper and Cain did to you? I hear they’re getting married. Will you be at the ceremony?”
The questions are like bullets firing at us.
The sad thing is, it’s fucking normal for me, Gabe, and Julian.
We all bundle into the car, shutting the door on the vipers. But they still have the cameras to the windows, trying to get pictures.
“Aiden, get us the fuck out of here,” I tell him.
He nods from the front, and then the car is moving slowly, his horn honking to move the fuckers out of the way.
I slump back in the seat, feeling pissed off. Not about the Piper and Cain comments. I couldn’t give a shit if they were getting married or not.
It’s just the fact that I can’t go out to a bar with my friends without getting hounded by the press.
It was probably a good thing that I didn’t get in the car with just Charly. That would have been spread all across the Internet within minutes, and any chance of keeping me and her on the down-low would have been blown out of the water.
I look at her sitting on the seat across from me, a drunk Ava half-asleep on her shoulder and Logan sitting on the other side.
She gives me a soft smile, and the annoyance instantly just ebbs away.
I can’t wait to be alone with her.
“The pictures are already online,” Julian says from beside me, showing me his phone.
“Fuck, they’re quick,” Gabe says from my other side, leaning over to help himself to a whiskey from the minibar in the limo.
“The power of technology.” I sigh.
“Love ’em or hate ’em, they keep our name in the press and keep us relevant,” Gabe says.
He’s right. But it doesn’t make it any easier.
Sometimes, I just crave privacy. To not have to hide whom I’m sleeping with.
I couldn’t even take Charly out on a date if I wanted to because we might be seen.
It’s fucking ridiculous. And it’s my life.
“Where am I heading?” Aiden calls back to us.
“Is it still okay to drop off Ava first?” Charly checks with me.
“Of course. Just let Aiden know her address.”
Charly turns to Aiden and tells him where Ava lives.
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling up at Ava’s. Logan and Charly get her out of the limo. I’m pretty sure she’s asleep.
“We’ll just get her inside, and we’ll be right back,” Charly tells me.
“No worries. Take your time.”
She shuts the door. I grab a bottle of water from the minibar.
“So, she works on set?” Gabe asks.
I unscrew the cap and take a drink. “Who?”
“Charly.”
“Yeah, in wardrobe. She’s assigned to me.”
“You fucking her?”
I feel my chest tighten. “No.”
“Mind if I do?”
I stare at him hard, my insides turning over. I grit my jaw. “No, go ahead.”
I’ve just got to pray that Charly tells him to fuck off, or I’ll be in jail for killing Gabe.
“But you’re probably not her type,” I add.
He laughs, eyes grinning at me. “I’m everyone’s type.”
“You’re not mine,” Julian says.
Julian’s gay. But in the closet. Like a lot of actors in Hollywood. The studio doesn’t want him out because they think it’ll damage the show.
Stupid if you ask me, but what do I know?
I’m currently hiding the girl I’m sleeping with and telling my friend he’s okay to hit on her when he’s most definitely not.
“I’m fucking wounded.” Gabe laughs, slapping a hand to his chest. “And don’t worry, West. I’ll leave your girl alone.” He pats my leg.
“She’s not my girl.”
“Sure she’s not.” He laughs, and so does Julian.
I want to tell them I’m sleeping with her…that she is mine. But, after what Cain did to me, it’s just hard for me to trust anyone.
I’ve known them both for years. But then I knew Cain for ten years, and he shit all over me.
The door opens, and Charly and Logan climb back in.
“She okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Her boyfriend was home; he put her to bed,” Charly says.
“Not that he didn’t fucking complain about it,” Logan says. “I don’t know what she sees in that jackass.”
Charly pats Logan’s leg with her hand.
I know Logan is gay, but I still feel a spike of jealousy at her touching him, which is so strange to me. I’ve never been a jealous kind of guy.
Maybe it’s because of what happened with Piper and Cain.
Or maybe it’s because I never cared enough about a woman before to be jealous over her.
I’m going with option number one.
We drop off Logan. Then, it’s Charly’s turn.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says to Aiden. Then, she climbs out of the limo. “Thanks for a great night, guys.” She smiles at everyone before her eyes finally connect with mine. “I’ll see you later.”
Yes, you fucking will. Sooner than later, baby.
She shuts the door and is gone.
Right, let me get these bastards home, and then I can get back here.
“Aiden, Julian’s next,” I tell him.
He pulls off, knowing the way to Julian’s, as he’s dropped him off plenty of times.
“Anyone wanna come in for a drink at mine?” Julian asks.
“Nope,” I say.
“Gee, thanks, West. You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted.”
Gabe laughs. “I’ll come for a drink, but don’t be getting me drunk and feeling me up while I’m passed out. I know how bad you want me.”
I laugh, shaking my head at Gabe.
“Fuck you.” Julian laughs.
“I know you want to, but I’m a giver, not a taker.” Gabe grins.
“Why do we hang out with him?” Julian asks me.
“Beats me.” I shrug.
“Because I’m fucking awesome, and you know it.” Gabe spreads his arms out, spilling some of the whiskey in his glass.
We pull up at Julian’s house.
“You coming in then, fuckface?” Julian asks Gabe.
“Nah, I’ll head home.”
For fuck’s sake, I’ve got to drop Gabe off now. It’ll be the fucking morning before I get back to Charly.
“Cool. See you later then. Thanks for the ride, man.”
We do the guy handshake as he passes by before climbing out the limo.
“Later, Julian.”
“Aiden, to Gabe’s place now.”
The car pulls off again. It feels like he’s driving at a snail’s pace.
I’m tapping my foot, drumming my fingers on my thigh.
“You look tense, West,” Gabe says, pouring himself another whiskey.
“Not tense, just tired.”
“Sure.” He smirks. “You want one?” He lifts the whiskey bottle.
“Nah. I’m good with water.” I take another drink.
Then, I stare out the window, watching the houses pass by.
How long does it take to get to Gabe’s place from Julian’s? Five minutes normally.
Why does it feel like we’ve been driving for ten fucking minutes then?
Why aren’t we there already?
Then, we finally turn onto his street, and I nearly exhale with relief.
Aiden stops the limo outside Gabe’s apartment building.
I open the door. “Hit the pavement, pretty boy.”
“Hey, I haven’t finished my drink.”
“Take it with you.”
He smirks. “Anyone would think you were eager to get off.”
“I am. I’ve got an early shoot.”
He laughs. “Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” He chuckles. “Great night, West. Thanks for the ride.” He slings an arm around me, giving me a guy hug. “Love you, man,” he slurs, patting my back before letting go.
Gabe always gets affectionate when he’s drunk. It’s usually funny. Right now, I just want him out of my fucking car, so I can get back to Charly and screw her brains out.
“Sleep it off, man.” I laugh, shoving him in the direction of the open car door.
He stumbles out, glass still in hand. He rights himself on the pavement. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, which isn’t much!” He laughs at his own joke, stumbling slightly.
I shake my head at him, laughing. Honestly, at this moment in time, I don’t give a shit if he does know I’m going back to Charly. I just want to go.
“Get to bed, and sleep it off,” I say to him. “Make sure he gets inside all right,” I tell his doorman, who is standing outside, holding the door open for Gabe.
“Will do, Mr. West. Come on, Mr. Evans, let’s get you to your apartment.”
I shut the limo door to the sound of Gabe singing Lukas Graham’s “7 Years” loudly. His neighbors must fucking love him.
“Back to Charly’s hotel,” I tell Aiden. “And drive fast.”
“Will do.” He chuckles.
He pulls off, the tires squealing as he slams on the gas.
It takes for-fucking-ever to get there.
I swear to God, we hit every red light. It’s like someone is out to torture me.
I’m climbing the limo walls by the time we finally pull up at her hotel.
“Pick me up at eight a.m.,” I tell Aiden.
He hands me my ball cap. Pulling it on, I’m out of the limo the second it stops.
Then, I’m jogging—I’m fucking jogging—through the hotel and up the steps and along the corridor to her hotel room.
I’ve never needed to be inside someone as much as I do her.
I don’t know what the fuck she’s done to me, but I like it. A lot.
Then, I’m knocking on her door. Fucking finally!
I wait a few seconds, and then the door pulls open.
And there she is.
Standing there, looking like a fucking goddess.
A leather-boot-wearing goddess.
My mouth waters as I take her in.
“I thought you were never going to get here,” she says.
I grip ahold of the doorframe, restraining myself from pouncing on her. “Me neither. I was ready to commit murder if it meant getting back here sooner.”
She laughs, and my cock stands up to attention. Not that he wasn’t already paying attention at the sight of her in those goddamn boots and sexy red lacy underwear.
She’s like every man’s fantasy.
She’s my fantasy.
And she’s about to become my reality.
“Babe, not that you don’t look sexy as fuck, but I believe I expressly said, boots only.”
Fighting a smile, she lifts her chin, and with those vixen eyes fixed on mine, she unclips the bra, slides it down her arms, and throws it to the floor. Then, she hooks her fingers into the elastic of the panties and pulls them down her hips and over her boots before kicking them aside.
Her hands go to her hips. “Better?”
She’s standing there in nothing but those boots. The hotel door is still open. Anyone could see her, and she doesn’t give a fuck.
Her liberty is intoxicating.
I want to inhale it. Snort it…her into my lungs and breathe her for the rest of my life.
“Almost,” I growl. I stride through the door, slamming it shut behind me. I pick her up, loving the feel of those boot-covered legs going around my waist. “Now, it’s better.”
Then, I kiss her like I’ve wanted to kiss her all night. Hard and deep.
Chapter 20
Charly
These last few weeks have gone by in a blur of laughter, fun, and sex with Vaughn. It’s been amazing.
We spend evenings watching movies and eating room service. And I’ve just started watching Julian’s show with Vaughn. But we don’t spend every evening together. Sometimes, we’re on the film set until late. Other times, Vaughn has dinner with Brandon and Natasha, or he goes for drinks with Gabriel and Julian. Some evenings, I go out with Ava and Logan or just Ava. We go out for dinner or to the movies or just out for drinks.
But, at the end of every night, Vaughn and I end up in bed together.
We haven’t spent a night apart since the first night we slept together.
We generally always spend the night at my hotel. It’s less likely that we’ll get spotted. It’s more likely that people—hotel staff—would notice if I kept frequenting Vaughn’s room. He can slip from here, going unnoticed.
I don’t really know what it means. Or what’s happening between us.
I mean, I don’t think we’re dating because we can’t exactly go out on a date together, which does make me a little frustrated at times. But it also works for me, too, because I can’t have the press delving into my personal life right now.
And, because I don’t really know what Vaughn and I are doing, where we’re heading—if anywhere at all—I can’t have my life upended.
We might not be dating, but I figure we’re fuck buddies, and I think we’re exclusive. Well, I hope we’re exclusive. I don’t think he’s seeing anyone else, and the fact that he ends every night in my bed tells me the same.
And I’m glad. More than glad.
I’m happy. Happier than I can ever remember being.
But one thing I do know is, when this thing with Vaughn does come to an end—because all good things end—it’s going to hurt like a bitch.
Because I like him. A lot.
We’re at my hotel tonight. Vaughn is working on his laptop, and I’m watching Romeo + Juliet, the Leonardo DiCaprio version, while working on that wedding dress I’ve been designing for a while now. The skirt has been evading me, but I think I finally have it. I’m going for a pleated chiffon skirt. Simple but elegant.
“I like it,” Vaughn says from over my shoulder.
I cover my drawing with my hand. I didn’t realize he was watching. This is the first time I’ve drawn in front of him.
“Don’t hide it.” He comes to sit beside me, pulling my hand from it. “It’s really good.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“I didn’t know you designed. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug. “It’s not important. It’s just something I like to do.”
“May I?” He gestures to my sketchpad.
I tentatively hand it over to him. He starts looking th
rough my designs.
“These are amazing, Pins. Why don’t you do it professionally?”
“I tried. After I graduated from college. But it’s not an easy industry to get into. So, I took a job temping with an agency, and the first job I got offered was in wardrobe. I’m good with clothes, and I was always a good seamstress—”
“Except for when you’re stabbing innocent guys in the balls.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Probably not.” He chuckles, continuing to look through my designs. “Well, I think you should try again. I’m no fashion expert—”
“No kidding.” I laugh.
He pretends to ignore me and seamlessly carries on, “But I think you should try again. You’ve got real talent. It’d be a tragedy to let it go to waste. I know some people I can put you in touch with.”
“I don’t need any favors.” I sound touchy. I don’t know why.
“Friends help each other.” He frowns.
I want to ask if that is what we are—friends. Is that all we are? Friends who fuck and fall asleep in each other’s arms?
But, of course, I don’t.
“I know. I’m just used to doing things on my own. I want my success to be on my own merit.”
“And it will. But it doesn’t hurt to have someone put you in touch with the people who can help you get there.”
I stare at his face, his expression so earnest, and something inside me ruptures. I feel like I’m bleeding out. I can feel my face heating up.
I swallow, take my sketchpad from him, and close it up. “Sure, that’d be good. Thanks.”
I put my pad down and rest back, watching the TV.
I can feel Vaughn’s eyes on me, but I don’t say anything.
It’s at the part when Romeo and Juliet are getting married, and that cute kid starts to sing “When Doves Cry.”
“I love this song,” I murmur.
“The Prince version or this one?”
I turn my face to him. “I like this one, but nothing beats Prince’s version. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“I know.” Vaughn sighs. “I was lucky enough to meet him once.”
“Really?” I turn my body to his. “What was he like?”
“Cool. Awesome as fuck. Everything you’d expect him to be. I was at this party of some big music producer, and Prince was there. He and a few other musicians started doing an impromptu jamming session. I got to see him sing live. It was amazing.”
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