by Logan Chance
“This one,” I tell her.
One hour later, the dress is being overnighted, and I can’t wait to take it off of her.
Chapter 25
Nova
I feel like my body has been invaded by someone with starry eyes. Ethan’s been back in LA for a few days, and every time he sends a text telling me about his day, or asking me about mine, they burn a little brighter. It must be all the sex.
And speaking of sex. Oh. My. God. Best thing ever. Like I want to do it again and again. Which might be even worse. Sex with a movie star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—it’s a million times better.
The way his body shudders, the sounds he makes, the look on his face; I could die and go to heaven, except, it feels like I’m already there.
When I get home, after putting in my official notice at the news station, I find a large package sitting on my front porch stoop.
I bring it inside, taking the note from the white box. Ethan.
I open the card, and read:
I still like the pink bra and panties better. Hope you love it. -E.
Inside the box, beneath layers of tissue paper, lies an exquisite long, red formal gown. I don’t have to see the price tag to know this dress cost way more than I could ever afford. I can feel it in the whisper soft fabric. In my room, I cling to the dress with excited fingers, and try it on to make sure it fits. And it does. It’s elegant, yet so sexy. The v in the front stops just below my breasts, and I lean forward, doing a little wiggle, to make sure nothing pops out. Boobs are secure. I turn in front of the mirror, checking out all the angles. It’s so beautiful the way the skirt falls gracefully to the floor from a wide band of material circling my waist. But the showstopper is the slit that goes all the way up. And I do mean all the way up.
I’m a little something I can’t explain, knowing he did this for me. I debate on sending a picture of myself to Ethan but decide to let him wait to see me in it tomorrow night at the premiere.
I pull out my phone.
Me: Thank you for the dress!!!
Ethan: I hope you love it.
Me: You didn’t have to do this. It was so sweet of you.
Ethan: See, I can be sweet when I want.
He calls, and I end up talking to him most of the night. The next morning, my mother and I drive to the airport to head to LA. Los Angeles. I still can’t believe I’ll be attending a Hollywood premiere. We wave to Chuck, and board the plane. I try to refrain from shouting too many curse words as the plane takes off, and for the most part, I do.
When we exit the plane at LAX, we retrieve our luggage and head to the car waiting for us. And then it happens, bursting my bubble of denial.
“Nova, over here,” a small group of paparazzi chant as we make our way through the busy airport.
“Just keep moving, Mom.”
They follow us, snapping pictures, spouting questions like a press conference.
“Nova, are you excited to see Ethan? Will you be staying at his house tonight?”
I duck my head and grab my mother’s arm as we race through the terminal.
“Nova, over here. Is it true you and Ethan are a couple? Is it true he’s leaving Harley for you?” one woman with a camera asks.
“Dahlia, what do you think about Ethan and Nova?” another man barks, pushing his camera in our faces.
I don’t say a word. We finally make it outside where Patrick waits for us.
“Get in,” he directs, and we rush into the back seat of the black sedan.
“Nova, what were they talking about?” Mom asks. “Is there something going on with you and Ethan?”
My face heats. Patrick comes to my defense, before I can answer. “Dahlia, never believe a paparazzi. They just try to get a rise out of you.”
I want to raise my fist in the air and shout ‘truth,’ but it isn’t lies. Not this time. There is something going on with Ethan and I. I just don’t know what yet.
We check into the posh resort Ethan booked, and then it’s a whir of being pampered, courtesy of Ethan—mani/pedis, hair/makeup, and room service, there's even a plate of Madeline's brought to our room. I try to block out the airport scene and keep it to myself when he calls. I don’t want to ruin his big night.
And then the moment arrives, the limo is here, and we’re whisked away to the premiere.
Nerves twist in my belly, when we pull up to the theatre. I don’t see Ethan anywhere, but I can’t really see much of anything behind the flashing of all the lights. It’s an orchestra of cameras clicking and cheers from the crowd, serenading the celebrities as Patrick guides us to the entrance. After showing our passes, we head inside to the lobby to wait for Ethan. Thankfully, inside is calmer than outside, but not for me. I need to just breathe.
“I’ll be back,” I tell my mother, and walk away to find the restroom so I can settle myself.
I enter the ladies room and do a double take. Harley Morgan, in an aqua mermaid gown, blots her pouty lips in front of the big mirror on the wall.
“Nova, right? Ethan’s stepsister?” she asks. “I recognize you from the tabloids.”
“Yes, but not technically his stepsister...yet. But, yes, I’m Nova.” I sound like an idiot.
She smiles, but it’s lackluster and fake like the flowers on the marble counter.
“Right.” She tosses the tissue in the trash can. “Can I give some advice?” My face crumbles like a dry biscuit when she says her next words, “Don’t ruin the premiere because you have fairytale ideas in your head. He shouldn’t have invited you.”
Is that what I’m doing? Ruining the premiere?
“Nice to meet you too,” I say for lack of a better response. I’m sure I’ll think of a better comeback later, when it’s too late.
“Nice won’t get you very far in Hollywood,” she retorts, ambling to the door and leaving without looking back.
Well that certainly explains your success, I think to myself, once she’s gone. See? The comeback always comes later. She’s right, though. It was a mistake to come here.
Once I head back into the lobby, I scan the crowd, and Ethan, in a dark navy suit and the perfect rumple to his hair, stands across the way.
His eyes meet mine, and they widen before he stalks toward me. He wets his lips the closer he gets, and my mind silences all the chatter around us, focusing on the main attraction before me.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi.”
“You look...wow.” He shakes his head in wonder. “Damn, Nova, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you?”
He takes a quick peek around, like he’s truly debating on taking me somewhere, so he can put his hands all over me. But, then it’s time for the showing.
“Soon,” he promises as the crowd filters into the theatre.
Out of the sea of people, emerges Harley in her mermaid gown with a stout, bald man I recognize as Brent Borden, another actor in the film.
“Quick photo op before it starts,” she urges, linking her arm through Ethan’s. “Just the three of us,” she says to me.
“Of course, I would never…” I trail off, stepping back. Bitch, I don’t say.
Ethan removes her arm and steps around so that Brent ends up in the middle of the trio for the shot. Two seconds is all I need to slip into the darkened theatre. And apparently, two seconds is all it takes for Ethan to catch up to me.
When the credits roll, I’m nestled between my mother and Ethan. I’m mesmerized by Ethan’s presence on screen. He’s got that X factor few people have.
“Body doubles,” he whispers against the shell of my ear when the sex scene with Harley consumes the big screen, burning my eyes.
“Ah.” It calms my nerves a bit to know he and Harley didn’t really have any love making scenes, and I enjoy the rest of the movie.
After the showing, I’d love to say it was all rainbows and unicorns, but that wouldn’t be accurate. Ethan is pulled away for interviews, and I find myself in a corner, alone, until a giant of a
man with ink-colored hair joins me.
“Did you enjoy the movie?” he drawls in a slow southern accent.
“Yes, it was amazing,” I answer.
“Donald Neidleson,” he holds out his hand for me to shake, “Marxx Studios.”
Ah, the studio responsible for Ethan’s film. “Nova Sparks.” I rush through the handshake because now my palm is sweating. “Oh… it rhymes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Marxx. Sparks.”
He doesn’t care about my ridiculous observation, because he moves right in for the kill with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ethan has a promising future, and although, you’re quite lovely,” his hazel eyes assess my dress, “the studio feels the negative attention you’re bringing is bad for business.” The realization of just how many people are scrutinizing us is jarring. “I think it’s best for everyone if you don’t attend the after party.”
Ever been so mortified you wanted to disappear? That’s how I feel as he walks away.
A few minutes later, after saying goodbye to Mom and Patrick, Ethan finds me outside, looking for the driver to take me back to the hotel.
“Where are you running off to, Cinderella?”
“Too much excitement,” I use as an excuse, “I was going to head back early.”
“I’ll ride back with you,” he says, “let me get the limo.”
“No, really, it’s ok,” I object. “Stay.”
He ignores my objection and five minutes later we take a seat in the back of his limo. He slides closer. The privacy divider between us and the driver goes up. It’s just me and him, alone, and I want more than anything for him to make this all better.
And he doesn’t disappoint. He takes my face in his hands and plants his full lips on mine.
“God, you’re sexy as fuck, and I can’t wait to take this dress off you.” We keep kissing as his hand finds its way through the slit of my dress, to my already drenched panties waiting for him underneath. He slips his fingers inside. “I’ve been thinking about touching you all night.”
I say the opposite of what I should, “Then do it. Don’t stop.”
“Lie back,” he instructs me.
The studio would definitely not be happy to know that I do as he says. Or that my panties are now in Ethan’s jacket pocket.
He finds a bottle of champagne and pops the cork. “I’ve been wanting to celebrate all night.”
Then, he does something I don’t expect. He holds his finger a bit over the top to control the flow and pours the bubbly over my pussy. I gasp, and he lowers his mouth to suck the champagne off me. His tongue laps up the alcohol, circles my clit, and sends my back arching off the seat.
He pours a bit more, and my fingers fly into his hair when he drinks from my pussy, circling all the right spots with his tongue. I lean my head back, squeezing my eyes shut, and moan as he brings me closer and closer to the edge of my sanity.
“You taste so good,” he whispers against my heated skin.
He takes one more drink and then drops the bottle, throwing my legs over his shoulder, while he drives his tongue in deeper and deeper. I ride out my orgasm as he holds me tight against him.
Seriously, how is any of this ever going to work? Because I may not ever be able to let this man go.
Chapter 26
Nova
We’ve been back from LA for a few days, in which time Ethan and I haven’t spent too much time together, not for lack of trying.
Last night, Ethan surprised me after work with a Redbox movie and dinner. We went back to my place, and to my surprise, my mother was there, waiting for me. Bachelorette party of two, she said. Ethan was not pleased.
And now we’re one day until the wedding. Can you believe that? In one day, Ethan and I will officially be step brother and sister. And what’s worse, I’m not sure what that means since we had sex. Actually, I’m not sure what any of it means. The sex. The tabloids. The studio. I’m clueless as to where this goes.
Today, I’m helping Mom by doing a quick check on the church, while she meets with the wedding planner and deals with last minute catering issues.
When I step inside the stone church, I’m overwhelmed by the transformation. Garlands of white roses and lavender peonies hang from the pews and intricately placed wrought-iron stands hold candles waiting to be lit. A long white toile lines the aisle.
I walk toward the dais. It’s probably for the best my mom is unintentionally cockblocking me and has been since we arrived home from LA. All night, I felt like she knew Ethan and I had sex. I feel like I’m branded, permanently, from his touch, and everyone will know just by looking at me. I need to sew a scarlet E on my chest.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say into the church, hoping for some divine guidance.
“About what?”
That doesn’t sound like God. I spin around to see Ethan leaned against the back wall.
“Hi.” My cheeks grow hot with his sexy stare on me. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just wanted to see you, before…”
“Before what?”
He moves closer, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. “Before all the madness of tomorrow starts.”
“Oh.”
“I thought maybe I could sneak over tonight,” he says.
God, I want that more than anything. “I wish. But, my mother is staying the night again because of that whole stupid tradition.”
He smiles, moving even closer. “Oh, and what would that be?”
“Can’t see the groom the night before the wedding.” I shake my head. “It’s dumb, really. It’s not like this is her first wedding.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Another time, I guess.”
It kills me, but I say it, “I don’t know.”
He makes me feel like I’m a junkie looking for a fix. I know after the wedding he goes back to LA, and this will all be out of his mind for good. But, not for me. I’ll still be addicted. I’ve thought more about him than Seattle.
My thoughts explode in my head like a confetti popper. Will this wedding change everything?
This all became way too complicated. Why can’t life be easy? And predictable. And boring. (See the irony?)
He stalks closer. “Why?”
I decide not to lie in church. “Because, we’ll be related, and the world will think it’s wrong. I’ve lied so much. I lied to my mother when she asked where I’d been. I lied to Charla when she asked where I disappeared to. I don’t want to be a dirty little secret.”
His jaw clenches, and he holds my hand leading me up the aisle, past the altar, and to the towering mahogany confessional booth in the corner. He slides the heavy curtain open and pulls me inside.
“Confess your sins, Nova,” he grits out, bracing his hands on either side of my head, nearly nose to nose with me, “and then tell me this is wrong.”
Before I can respond, his lips claim my soul in this church. I’m so going to hell. I moan when he sucks my tongue into his mouth. He lifts my leg for my foot to rest on the narrow bench, sprawling me open. His hand lifts my dress, and his finger caresses along my seam through my panties. “You’re wet. Tell the truth. You want me.”
“I do,” I confess.
“You want me to make you come, don’t you?”
His finger dips beneath my last barrier to keep him out, sliding through my wetness.
“Yes,” I whisper. A noise, like a thud, breaks me from my spell, and I push him away. “Do not move,” I warn him before scooting around his tall frame to poke my head out. I breathe a sigh of relief when I locate the source. “A candle fell onto the floor.” I emerge from the booth, and he follows. “Ok, no more of this. Please. Could you imagine if we were caught here,” I stress.
He looks up at the ceiling and then back at me, letting out a labored sigh. “Ok. I’ll leave you alone till after the wedding.”
“I have to go,” I tell him, barely able to turn away. I seriously need an exorcism.
/> His heavy steps follow me outside into the sunlight just as Beau exits his patrol car. A ridiculous fear that we’re about to be arrested for desecrating the church causes my palms to sweat.
“Hey, guys,” Beau calls out, meeting up with us halfway down the cobblestone walkway. “Just stopped by to check out the perimeter for the extra security Patrick requested.”
“Cool,” I say. Our reflections stare back at me in his mirrored shades. I look so guilty. “I stopped by to check and make sure the flowers were here and then Ethan showed up to…” I pause, and look over at Ethan, “I forget why you showed up.” A nervous laugh escapes from me. “Why are you here?”
He tilts his head at me, and a hint of amusement tugs at his lips. “I wanted to see if I could confess my sins,” he nearly stops my heart by saying.
“Ha,” I point at him, “good one.”
“You alright, Nova?” Beau questions. “You seem a little stressed.”
“No, no,” I deny, needing to get out of here before I make this worse, “just in a hurry. I need to run into the salon and give back my key. I’ll see you two later.”
He nods, and I move around him and hurry to my car without looking back, lest I turn into a pillar of salt. When I get to the salon, the punishment for my sins in the church is standing in the small smock room, thumbing through the selection of black like she’s shopping for an evening gown.
Harley Morgan. With all her stardom and celebrity effect emanating from a tiny white tank and a tinier jean skirt. I can’t move, I stand statue still, as she turns and notices me standing by the counter.
“Nova, right?” she asks.
“You already asked me that in LA.” She cuts her eyes to me. Uneasiness settles low in my belly. And then I can’t refrain from asking the obvious question, “What are you doing here?”
“I need a trim before tomorrow.” She flings her long hair over her shoulder, and my stylist eye spots the split ends. This pleases me for some reason. “I’m Ethan’s plus one,” she throws at me like a dagger, aiming right for my chest.
My heartbeat moves from my chest into my ears. “Oh, I didn’t realize…” my words trail off because I just don’t know what to say.
