by Ava Claire
"All the things you listed could be gleaned from Facebook or any number of profiles that have been done on Desmond. I might not know his favorite color or his favorite movie, yet, but I know that he's stubborn as a freaking mule because he doesn't want anyone to know just how vulnerable he is. How he cares about people, and will fight for the things he's passionate about. I know that his smile is so powerful that it could damn near cure anything if we could bottle it up. And I know that he's terrified that if he lets people see him, all of him, that they would run for the hills...which couldn't be further from the truth. Because I see your brother. And he’s a good man.” I took a breath, not sure if my words were having an effect, and not caring if they didn’t. “The only thing I know for sure is that even if he doesn't want to be with me, he has completely changed my life. I believe in love again. And that's a gift I'll always be grateful for."
Mallory was still pointing the walkie at me, but her eyes no longer held contempt. They were filled with tears. Her lips still held a snarl, but they were shaking, emotion tearing through her. I didn't even bother holding my own emotions at bay, welcoming the tears with open arms.
Neither one of us said a word, both sniffling, waiting for the other to make the first move.
And then a sound reverberated from the door, the knob twisting.
I knew it was Desmond without even looking. I felt the air change, charged with his presence. When I glanced in his direction and watched the shock on his face morph into confusion, then anger, I braced myself for his wrath.
Mallory wiped her face with the back of her hand, finally putting the walkie away. "It's not me you have to convince."
She moved toward her brother, clapping him on the back. I could have sworn she said 'good luck' before she walked out the door, but I couldn't be certain because my heart was roaring in my ears as Desmond and I faced off.
I was gonna need all the help I could get.
Chapter Four: Desmond
Not answering Sophia's texts was one of the hardest things I'd ever done.
Saying those words, admitting that I wasn't the master of the universe, able to handle anything life threw at me without faltering, without difficulty, made me go back and take a hard look at my life.
The first restaurant I'd opened, O'Connell, was a fifties era inspired cafe, complete with neon signage, booths and vintage pieces that the interior designer I'd paid an arm and several legs for assured me would transport the customers to a time where food was simple yet delicious.
Situated in a hip gentrified neighborhood, O’Connell flopped royally. I was fresh out of culinary school, and cocky as hell with investor money burning a hole in my pocket. I believed my name and quality food was all it took to succeed in the restaurant business.
I was wrong...and it cost dozens of people their livelihood. Standing in front of my staff, their eyes hooded, the end inevitable considering the tables were always empty when they should have been filled, it still cut like a knife. Telling them that the restaurant was closing and they were out of a job was like ripping my heart right out of my chest. I promised that they would have a home at any of my future ventures, but I knew how worthless that promise was. Pinning their hopes on that wouldn't pay the bills that were due, or feed their kids or keep a roof over their heads.
And then there was Caity.
The night she ended our engagement and climbed into my mother's car, I had no idea it would be the last time I saw her smile...or my mother's. That call would haunt me for the rest of my life. The emergency responder's voice was soft, practically a whisper compared to my mother wailing in the background. She was repeating how sorry she was, over and over, her words slurred, begging for forgiveness. It took a few moments for me to realize that it was strange for some woman to be calling me on Caity's phone, then I connected 'accident' and 'God, Des I'm so sorry' and my whole world came crashing down. The woman who gave me life, who inspired my love for food, had ripped away the woman I was sure I'd spend the rest of my life with. God only knew how I found the strength to punch in the number to her parent's. Her father answered the phone, a kind man with a laugh that always disarmed me. He was the kind of father I wished I had, who spent his Sunday's watching football and fiercely loved his family. He'd joked that it must be serious, since the last time I'd called him, it was to ask for his permission to marry his daughter. Getting the words out felt like setting my soul on fire, turning all the happiness and hope for the future to ash.
And then there was Sophia. ‘Sin’. In her, I found a passion, a connection that I wasn't looking for, but was impossible to escape. Maybe it all began before our eyes even met. I could remember being intrigued, vividly, by a submissive who was unlike any other sub I'd met, taking down a man twice her size. She was a fighter, and just as bullheaded as me. And even though my head told me that she was unlike any sub I'd ever met because she wasn't a sub at all, I couldn't stop my heart from wondering if the truth was beneath all the bullshit.
That maybe she'd fallen for me too.
So I put my phone on silent, thinking that not hearing the alert would make it easier to ignore the pull of Sophia Slater. I disproved that theory when I grabbed the phone every half hour and found some new heartfelt text from her, begging me to give her a chance to explain herself properly. Not answering her, not plunking out two little letters (ok), was sheer torture.
I narrowed my eyes in disbelief when I came face to face with the object of my desire and frustration. Just like I had no choice but to fall for her, fate putting us on a collision course that night, I had no choice but to accept the fact that if I wanted to end this thing, I wouldn't be able to just walk away or ignore her texts.
I'd have to look her in the eye.
As much trash as Mal talked yesterday afternoon, complete with rapid fire texts all night reminding me to be strong, and that silence was more than 'skanky Lois Lane' deserved, she was suddenly damn near speechless. She shrugged her shoulders, hiding behind her red tendrils, muttering two words before she made her quick exit. Good luck.
Alone with Sophia, in the one place where she could do real damage, at my work for crissakes, my shock quickly tumbled into anger. "So let me get this straight." I flung my keys on the counter and took a long, steady drag from my coffee cup. "I don't answer your texts-"
"Desmond," Sophia began, pulling off her ball cap, her dark locks springing free.
She wasn't playing fair, wild and free...and I flicked my gaze downward. To top it off, I was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples round and teasing the cotton fabric of her t-shirt.
"I know this is a huge invasion-"
"I'm not finished," I snapped, shrugging off my leather jacket, gripping it tight to stem the desire to grip her instead. Pull her body against mine. Pour gasoline on the raging fire she stoked inside me. "I didn't answer your texts and your next step is to come to my job? Lying to get into Hush was a huge invasion. This? This is borderline stalking."
Her eyes widened like I'd just spewed profanity, calling her every bad word under the sun. All the delicate features of hers that I'd committed to memory were on full display now. From those wide blue eyes, to her button nose, to those round cheeks that reacted to everything, and finally her thick lips...God, she was beautiful.
She wrapped her arms tight across her chest, like she was trying to make herself smaller. Like she was trying to disappear.
When she spoke, she didn't look me in the eye. "In case it's not pretty evident, I'm kind of impulsive. The only thing I was thinking about, the only thing I cared about, was getting to you." She gripped her bottom lip with her teeth, blushing even deeper. "I wanted to make you listen to me. Hope that my sheer lunacy would convince you that I was serious."
She pulled at her t-shirt and tossed her hand at the ball cap that sat on the counter. Not a bad disguise for one of the sleep deprived PA's.
"I balked at you calling me a stalker, but God help me, that's exactly what I've become." She pressed her palm
against her forehead and I winced, sure if she bit her lip any harder, she'd draw blood.
"My work day is filled with celebrities and perfection and glitz and glamour and Photoshop and tearing people down until I'm not sure what's real and what's not." She lowered her hand and picked her gaze up from the floor. "But the way I feel about you? That's real, Desmond."
I was struggling to hold onto my anger. I couldn't do this, could I? Forgive? Forget? Tear down the walls and let her in after I'd given her more of me than I'd given anyone? But the battle lines were weakening and the energy it took to be angry was just too much. Big, bad, Desmond wasn't who I was. It wasn't who I wanted to be. I was sick of guarding my heart from pain, from loneliness. There was a woman in front of me, a woman I cared about. When I saw her sweep a tear from her cheek, her body trembling from the sobs she suppressed, I knew it was more than that.
I was in love with Sophia Slater.
And the fact that she was crying, hurting, because she thought that she had ruined us, that she'd hurt me, well, that was unacceptable.
With every step I took toward her, I unloaded all the reasons I should keep my distance. She lied to me; it was true, she came to me under false pretenses. But I knew that when I touched her, when I felt her come undone in my arms, that there was no greater truth. She could bring everything I built crashing down; yep, all it would take was a whisper, an 'anonymous source' and the mere question would forever associate my brand with sex clubs and BDSM. But when I took my fingers and swept them through her dark locks, tugging ever so slightly until her sky blue eyes locked on me, I knew that the risk of everything going to hell didn't compare to the risk of walking away. If I let this woman go, I'd regret it forever.
I kissed her cheeks with my fingertips, her tears wet and warm. "Don't cry, Sophia. I'm right here." I leaned in, nuzzling my cheek against hers, a smirk on my lips. "And I'm not calling security."
"Good," she fired back, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Me and Frank are buddies, so I'm betting he'd haul you off set before he'd kick me to the curb anyway."
That earned her a smack on the ass and when she let out a squeal, I scooped her up, careful to maneuver through the tight space to the couch. I dumped her on one cushion and lowered myself onto the other, trying to not get too mushy about the fact that she looked perfect curled up beside me. Like that was the way it was supposed to be, me and Sophia, relaxing in my trailer in between shooting, laughing and sharing and maybe even doing some things that would require locking the door.
She propped herself up on the pillow, scooping her raven strands behind her ears and giving me a very serious look. "There's some things you should know about me before we go any further."
Uh oh. I returned her solemn expression, nodding my head gravely. "It's a good thing I'm sitting down."
She dipped her head twice slowly, like she was about to unleash something massive. "When I'm having a bad day, the only cure is Easy Mac and a Charmed marathon."
"I'm not sure what's worse, the Easy Mac," I let loose a full body shudder. "Or the estrogen and hokey special effects overdose."
"I'm not sure what's worse, you trash talking the golden deliciousness that is Easy Mac or the awesomeness that is the Halliwell sisters," she pouted, swiping a pillow and smacking my arm with it.
"How about I make you a deal. When you have a bad day, I'll make you the legendary O'Connell mac and cheese and I'll sit through at least one episode before I start in with the legendary O'Connell commentary."
She pondered that, stroking her chin. "What will it cost me?"
I started at her feet and worked my way up, nice and slow, until I stopped at her eyes. The vibrant blue widened because she knew I was thinking up something sinful. "Something that just may make you finally say 'red'."
We hadn't discussed the implications of what she revealed, her real identity, which wasn't that of a submissive. I was taking a chance, here and now, hoping that her curiosity about the lifestyle was authentic.
That I hadn't imagined how wet submitting made her. That her breathless enthusiasm when she counted out the strikes I'd dealt wasn't all a show.
When she rose from the couch wordlessly, my nerves wreaked havoc on my gut. Had I gone too far? Was she about to reveal that she was done with all of that? That she couldn't, wouldn't submit?
Before my head could run through all the possible scenarios, she'd climbed onto my lap, silencing every doubt as she roped her arms around my neck. Her dark hair spilled all around us and her eyes burned into mine as her lips curved into a smile. "Bring it on, D."
Chapter Five: Sophia
I would have had him right there. On the couch. On the counter. Hell, even on the floor. But he only allowed me a single kiss while I straddled him.
His lips grazed mine, and his taste consumed me. The salt of his skin, the power of his tongue as he dove into my mouth, sweeping over every surface, like he was staking claim to me.
Not Sin. Sophia.
The heat between my thighs became an inferno as I rolled my hips, feeling him come alive beneath me. He wanted this, wanted me as badly as I wanted him. Safewords, protocol be damned, I didn't wait for permission to kiss him right back. To lose myself in his arms.
I skated my fingertips from his neck to his hair, dipping my fingers until I grazed his scalp, taking a fistful and tugging as my tongue became ferocious. I pulled him deeper, moaning into him as my lips said everything I needed to say while saying nothing at all. That I needed him. Craved him. Lusted for him.
And loved him.
I panted, breathless, pulling my lips away from him long enough to clutch his shirt, but he took hold of my wrists. Arousal had turned him into a caveman; his eyes filled with only one objective: the needs of his flesh. Fucking my brains out. But he only managed a grunt.
"Un uh."
I didn't bother pouting. If he didn't want to be undressed, well, I'd just take matters into my own hands. Really solidify just how badly I needed to be punished.
I took ahold of my t-shirt, daring him to stop me. Those wild green eyes of his narrowed and even though he was quiet, his body had plenty to say. His gaze hissed, don't you dare. His erection, piercing right through his jeans, told me not to stop.
Guess which part of Desmond O'Connell I decided to listen to?
I got my white t-shirt up as far as my navel before he bucked me off him and I tumbled back onto the couch beside him in a tangle of hair, blushed cheeks, and legs. Now I pouted, trying to get myself back together.
When I threw him the evil eye, he just grinned that sexy-as-hell grin that was so rare, so devastatingly Desmond, that it should be illegal.
I flipped my hair in a huff. "I thought stars loved getting it on in their trailers." I licked my lips and tiptoed my fingers up his thigh. "I want you, Desmond."
He inhaled deep and bit his lip. He rearranged himself, trying to hide proof that he was just as dialed up as me, before he gave up. He was way too thick and way too aroused to make that bulge discreet. "And I want you. But just so we're clear, this couch hasn't seen any action...yet."
Hope rose in my chest, a bundle of heart shaped balloons (and a few St. Andrews crosses etched on said balloons). But then he stood up like a man on a mission, and when he pulled on his leather jacket, I realized that mission wasn't to christen the couch.
He turned back to me, his voice a low sultry thing that slipped right up my shirt and stroked my nipples.
"When I take you for the first time, for real, with no secrets, and no lies between us, it's not gonna be here." One side of his mouth lifted into a smirk when I slid to the edge of the couch. Waiting. Longing.
"It'll be in my bed," he finished huskily.
I hopped up from the couch, my failed seduction fading into the horizon. I dusted off my jeans, the heat flaring deep inside. "Lead the way, Mr. O'Connell."
He rushed a hand through his chopped mahogany hair, tousling the locks. Combined with that jacket, he looked so damn good that I was throb
bing for him.
"One last bit of business," he said, walking over to the counter where a walkie rested against a stack of folders. He turned the knob on the side and brought it to his mouth. "This is Desmond."
The answer was immediate, the male voice on the other end frenzied and out of breath. "Mr. O'Connell! What's wrong? I mean, let me start off by apologizing-"
"That won't be necessary," Desmond interrupted, wincing when I raised my eyebrows. He really wielded some power on set if some dude was ready to fall on his sword before Desmond even got to what he wanted. "Please let Kara know that I'm feeling under the weather and won't be available to shoot today."
The walkie went crazy then, the poor guy on the other end all but begging Desmond to break the news to Kara himself. Offering to call the onset medical staff. To travel to the Alps or the mythical Fountain of Youth to fetch him the elixir of life; anything to not have to face this Kara chick and deliver bad news.
Desmond seemed oblivious of the guy's impending doom, holding out his arm like we were about to step out on the dance floor.
I took it, shaking my head, not being able to resist making a tiny dig. "I'm not sure who that dude was more afraid of, you or Kara."
"If you met Kara," Desmond snickered. "You'd know the answer to that question."
When I'd snuck on set, everything from the trailers to the swarm of dark hoodies and gray bags under everyone's eyes created this ominous atmosphere. Now, the sun peeked through the lazy clouds. Hoods had been pushed back, ponytails were high and efficient. We even passed a couple of smiling huddles. When eyes locked on me and Desmond, hand in hand, the smiles wavered and the eyes glinted with curiosity. When I came face to face with the brunette who pointed me in the direction of Desmond's trailer, it was pretty clear her eyes glinted with jealousy before she tossed a scowl at me and crossed her arms angrily.
