Man of the Moment (Gentlemen, Inc. Book 1)

by Thea Dawson

  “A little,” he replies, not quite meeting my eyes. “You seem so innocent.”

  “I’m not that innocent,” I insist. “I’ve slept with lots of guys.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “How many?”

  I pause as if taking time to count. “ … At least … three.”

  The corners of his mouth start to curl. “So, does that mean I’ll be number four?”

  I smile at him. “The point is, I have tons of experience. Let me show you.”

  I sit up and push him onto his back, not missing the opportunity to run my hands across his shoulders. I don't think I could ever get tired of touching this man—or having him touch me. I swing one leg over him, straddling him, and press my center to the hard bulge in his jeans, the rough denim against my soft flesh igniting my desire all over again.

  Naked and shameless, I rock against him, watching his expression become less ambivalent with every movement. I shift so that I can unzip him, and I free what is really a magnificent specimen of manhood.

  I let out a little moan of delight. “Tell me you have a condom,” I whisper.

  He nods and makes a vague gesture toward the side of the bed. “I put one in the bedside table drawer earlier,” he says, his voice hoarse, “just in case. Get it and put it on me.”

  I find the idea of being ordered around by this man strangely exciting, but I'm still in control—for now.

  “Not yet,” I say, peeling away his jeans and box shorts until he's as naked as I am. Then I lick my lips, scoot down and take him in my mouth.

  “You don't have to do that,” he says, though I can tell it costs him some effort to say the words.

  I look up. “I want to,” I say. “You like it, don't you?” For emphasis, I run my tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip.

  He makes a groaning noise. “God, yes …”

  I giggle. “Good. I want to make you happy.”

  He surrenders to my ministrations, and I kiss, suck, lick and tease until he’s the one fisting the sheets and groaning. Suddenly he pushes me away and flips me onto my back.

  The chastity pillow takes on a new life as he pushes it beneath my hips, angling me toward him. I’m completely exposed, but I feel shameless and wanton and excited about it.

  Archer, kneeling between my legs, retrieves the condom from the night table and swiftly sheathes himself. “You’re sure about this?” he whispers. “Tell me you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Hurry up!” I half giggle, half gasp.

  He enters me slowly, giving me time to adjust to his girth. It takes only a few strokes for me to realize why he’s placed the pillow where it is; the angle gives him perfect access to my g-spot. I didn’t think I’d be able to climax again after that first orgasm, but it’s not long before the heat is building all over again.

  I wrap my legs around Archer’s waist and surrender myself. His mouth caresses my throat, my lips, my shoulders. His hand toys agonizingly with my breast before sliding down to the apex of my legs to stroke my clitoris. I feel his muscles ripple under his damp skin, taste his sweat on my lips. I’ve been reduced to something elemental. Both needy and powerful, I’m an incoherent, moaning incarnation of desire. I’m no longer myself.

  And yet I don’t think I’ve ever been so fully, completely me.

  “Oh God, baby girl, you make me want to shout out loud,” Archer groans softly in my ear. “When I get you back to LA, I want to find a soundproof room where we can both make all the noise we want.”

  The image is erotic, but it’s the sentiment—he wants to see me again after we go home!—that pushes me over the edge. It’s like diving off a cliff only to find yourself being pulled upward into the sun. The very air around me seems to shimmer. I bite my lip to hold back a scream, and shatter.

  21

  Archer

  She frightens me, yet I’ve never been so happy.

  Last night started as an act of service, payment for the debt I’m accruing with her family.

  Or so I told myself.

  But now, lying here in the grey light of early dawn, with her beside me, I’m forced to realize that this is more than just payment. She was so open last night, so vulnerable, so eager to please and be pleased … Somehow this girl, this cute, annoying, innocent-looking girl is making me wonder if life is more than a series of transactions. I don’t want to pay her back to keep the accounts even; I just want to spend time with her, protect her, get to know her better.

  I tell myself that if she’d been a virgin, I wouldn’t have gone through with it, I’d have let her wait for someone better.

  But I’m not sure that’s the truth.

  The truth is that I don't want her to find anyone better. I want her to think I'm the best thing out there. Not just in bed, or as a bit of arm candy for a night or a weekend, but for real.

  And I’m not sure if I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.

  She's terrifying, but she’s also addictive. And while part of me wants to grab my car keys and what’s left of my sanity and make tracks back to LA, to a universe that makes sense, another part of me wants to lock the door and stay in this bed with her forever.

  I should tell her about Zac, about her mother’s promise to arrange a meeting, but when she stirs beside me, snuggling into the crook of my arm, I can’t bring myself to ruin the moment. Without thinking, I kiss the top of her head, and she smiles at me as she opens her eyes.

  “Morning, big guy,” she murmurs. “Ready for another round?”

  If we’d been back in LA, I might have simply left before breakfast and done my best to forget her. But here, we go from our room to the kitchen, where she pours me a cup of coffee and feeds me bites of coffee cake, laughing as she gets crumbs in my beard. I sneak into the bathroom upstairs with her and we start all over again in the shower, no longer caring what her family thinks or if they even notice. We go swimming, chasing each other and splashing and kissing in the water, basically acting like the boyfriend and girlfriend we're supposed to be.

  Except it’s starting to feel real.

  Mid-morning, Brianna and her dad challenge us to a sailboat race.

  Annabelle gets a fierce gleam in her eyes—I’d figure from the science fair ribbons in her room that she had a competitive streak, but now I get to see that in full force. She captains our boat, while I crew, following her orders as we follow the wind, the water streaming beneath us as we pick up speed, the fresh air and sunlight washing our faces. Brianna and Nick, not surprisingly, are also highly competitive and they give us a run for our money, but we win by a nose, and Annabelle almost knocks us both into the water when she hugs me.

  We eat lunch with her family, joking and laughing and making threats about a rematch race, and I realize how much fun I’m having. I’ve forgotten all about Los Angeles, Alex, Zac Borstein, my big break and everything else. My main goal right now is to see if I can get Annabelle to join me for a “nap” in the afternoon. The crazy thing is, if that doesn’t work, I’m just as happy for us to go for a hike or another swim. I just want to be with her.

  After lunch, I help the sisters clean the dishes, then Moira heads into town for groceries. Brianna and her dad head out on the sailboat, and Carina disappears to go visit another set of neighbors.

  Giggling, Annabelle pulls me upstairs for a quickie. It’s not like the passionate, explosive encounter of last night, or the steamy, playful time in the shower this morning. This time it’s sweet and tender and gentle. The look on Annabelle’s face as she comes, her hair spread across the pillow, her sexy little mouth parted with pleasure, hits me in the chest.

  Shit. I don’t know how it happened, but I’m falling for this girl.

  I’d stay in bed with her for the rest of the day if she’d let me, but she gets up and puts on her bathing suit.

  “Come on, lazy bones. Everyone will be back soon.” She smiles at me.

  I’m still sprawled lazily across the bed. “You and me, soundproof room, no time limit. It’s a promise.”


  She grins. “I’ll hold you to that. Come on, let’s go for a swim.”

  I sigh. Our encounter has energized her, while I feel pleasantly exhausted. “I’m tired, woman. Did you notice how hard I just worked?”

  “I noticed every amazing minute of it,” she says, still smiling. “But I’m going to be embarrassed if my parents catch us ‘napping’ together. Come on, a swim will wake you right up.”

  I force myself to sit up. “I’ll be right down.”

  “Meet me at the dock. I’ll bring cookies.” She slips out of the room.

  A few minutes later, dressed in swim trunks and a t-shirt, I head down after her, wondering if I could get away with a nap in one of the deck chairs. Moira walks into the house just as I’m about to step out.

  “Let me grab that.” I take the grocery bag out of her hand and carry it to the kitchen, then give her a hand bringing the rest in from her car.

  Once the last bag has been brought in, she turns to me with a triumphant little smile.

  “Listen,” she says in a low voice. “I know Nick said he’d call Zac when we got back, but I couldn’t wait. I called him when I was in town and texted him links to some of your commercials. He wants you in his office on Tuesday morning at ten. Can you do that?”

  It takes a moment for the words to sink in. I feel a burst of relief first; no more secrets from Annabelle; I'm going to go tell her everything right now. Then, genuinely moved, I give Moira a big hug. It’s not just that I’ve got my Big Break; it’s that I’ve learned how to sail, that I’m surrounded by this cheerful, loving family that’s taken me in as if I were one of them … and Annabelle.

  “Thank you, Moira,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “This is amazing. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  She laughs and pats me on the back. “You’re welcome. Pay us back by giving Zac your best audition ever.”

  I promise that I won’t let them down. She insists on giving me Zac’s address, even though everyone knows where his company, Windstorm Studios, is located.

  “I’ve got to go tell Annabelle how awesome her parents are,” I say with a grin.

  I’m halfway down the little path that leads to the dock when Moira steps out on the porch.

  “Hey, Archer, do you think maybe you and Annabelle could go into town and pick up some wine for dinner tonight? I completely forgot to get any. Or maybe you could ask one of the other girls.”

  “Oh, no problem, Moira. I'll take care of it.” It's the least I can do. Not that a bottle of wine is worth anything like as much as an interview with Zac Borstein, but I'm happy to be helpful in any way I can.

  I head down to the dock. Annabelle is sitting on the edge with her feet in the water. I’d thought she was kidding about the cookies, but there’s a plate of them on the dock next to her. Carina and Brianna are in the water, trying to cajole her into joining them. As I draw closer, she playfully kicks water at them and they splash her back.

  I study her as I walk down the dock toward her. When did I start thinking of her as beautiful? Just a few days ago, she was kinda cute, but not my type. Now, as she turns toward the sound of my steps on the wooden boards, and her face lights up with a smile, I wonder how I could have missed it. That glowing skin, the way that pretty, pouty, passionate mouth curves into a smile, the big green eyes, dancing with mischief, those soft hips that I just want to sink my fingers into, those sweet breasts that are now hidden under that silly flower-covered bathing suit.

  She’s a knock-out.

  I want to share my good news about Zac Borstein, not least because I want her to hear it from me and not one of her family members; my conscience, which has been pricking at me all weekend, still worries that she’ll cotton on to the fact that I was using her family to get to Zac, and if she hears from me, she’ll be less likely to think I’m hiding something.

  But also because this is special, and I want to share it privately with Annabelle.

  So when I get to the end of the dock, I wave at the sisters and squat down beside Annabelle.

  “Your mom asked me to run into town to pick up some wine for dinner,” I say. “Wanna come with me? Maybe we could hit up that ice cream place you’re so crazy about.” I picture the two of us sitting in an old-fashioned ice cream parlor, like a couple out of 1940’s movie, me telling her my dreams like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life, and her …

  She smiles and leans her head against my arm for a moment. “Would you mind if I stayed here? I think I’m pretty wiped out after all.”

  “Oh, I think a little swim will wake you right up.” I grin and make a motion as if I’m going to push her in.

  She flinches and laughs, then lowers her voice. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you to Smithy's after dinner.”

  “No problem,” I reply, then I lower my own voice. “You’ll make it up to me in other ways, too. Rest up, beautiful. I’ve got plans for you for tonight.”

  She giggles and lets me plant a big kiss on her mouth. Just as well her sisters are there watching us, amusement dancing in their eyes, or I might never leave.

  I break away. “Going into town for a bit,” I tell Carina and Brianna. “You ladies need anything?” They assure me that they’re fine, and I head out.

  I change quickly out of my swimming trunks and into regular shorts before heading down the long dirt road that leads from the lake to the main highway that goes into town. It’s a gorgeous day, a little cooler than it would be in LA, but just as sunny and somehow softer. The shadows from the tall pines that line the road cast dappled shadows over the car as I drive. I turn the radio on and find myself singing along to an old Four Seasons song.

  I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

  Almost as soon as I turn onto the main road, my phone starts to ding, one alert after another that haven’t been able to get through until now. I frown, uneasy; I don’t usually have that many people trying to get in touch with me. I can hope it’s my agent giving me good news about some audition or another, but it’s not likely she’d be calling me over the weekend.

  As soon as I get into the little town, I pull over and check.

  Shit.

  Over a dozen texts from Alex, most of them begging me to call her, and three voicemails.

  A sick feeling in my stomach, I listen to first voicemail. She’s crying so hard, I can hardly understand what she’s saying but it’s something about Trevor. I can make out the words You were right, and I'm sorry.

  The next two are increasingly garbled and incomprehensible.

  I call her back quickly.

  “Alex, what's going on? Are you all right?”

  “Where are you? I'm so sorry we had a fight.” Her voice is thick and her words are slurred. “You were right. He's married.” She says something else but it's garbled. I can't tell if she’s drunk or if she's just crying too hard to be coherent.

  I lean back against the seat of my car and close my eyes. “Jesus, Alex. I'm so sorry.”

  “It's my fault. You told me, and I didn't want to believe you.”

  “It's not your fault,” I tell her. “This is squarely on Trevor.”

  “No, it is my fault,” she insists through a sob. “I should have listened to you. I’m a total loser. I can’t sell a screenplay, and I date loser guys, and I’m going to have to go home to East Longmeadow and work in an office and die alone.” There’s another soft sob. “I don’t understand. He said he loved me.”

  I sigh. “Alex, are you drunk?”

  “Maybe a little. I had some of that vodka we had in the cupboard.”

  “How much?”

  "I don't know. There's not a lot left. It made me feel better for a little while and now I feel worse.”

  I roll my eyes. The bottle had been almost full when I’d made vodka cream sauce for her the other night. “Pour the rest of it down the drain, Alex. Will you do that for me?"

  “I’m so sorry I kicked you out.” She's crying again. “Will you pl
ease come home? I really need to see you. You're my only real friend out here.”

  I stare out the window of my car. Across the street, I can see Smithy's, the ice cream place Annabelle promised to take me to. Part of me wishes I had never left the lake, but maybe better to hear from Alex now, when I'm alone, than this evening on a date with Annabelle.

  I’d been looking forward to my last night at the lake with the Winters, and most of all, with Annabelle. But Alex is my best friend, and as attached as I'm getting to Annabelle, I've known Alex longer. She’s the closest thing to family that I have.

  Of course, I remind myself, I can see Annabelle again in LA. I want to see her again. But something tells me that things will be different when we get back to the real world.

  “Archer, are you still there?” Alex's voice is barely a whisper. “I really need you.”

  “Yeah, I'm still here, sweetheart.” I sigh, my mind made up. “I can be back in LA tonight.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice is tiny and sad. I wish she were here now so I could wrap her up in my arms and tell her over and over again that this asshole Trevor didn't deserve her. I settle for making her pour the rest of the vodka down the drain while I’m still on the phone, then assure her that I’ll be back in LA as soon as I can.

  I get out of the car and cross the street to the little grocery store on the corner, trying not to look at Smithy’s as I pass it.

  Another time.

  I tell myself that there’s a future with Annabelle, that she’ll understand about Alex, that she won’t be upset that I'm leaving early, that we’ll get together again next week, back in LA … but as I buy the wine and head back to my car, I’m uncertain.

  One way or another, the magic of this weekend is over, and things will change.

  I fill the car up with gas before I leave the little town and head back to the lake to tell Annabelle that I’m going back to LA.