Say It Sexy

by Virna DePaul

  I gritted my teeth together, rage radiating with the sweat of every pore.

  You stay away from him, you two timing plastic bitch.

  “Unfortunately, he had his room telephone turned off the day before yesterday. The number was leaked and he had an influx of fan calls.”

  That answered my query as loud as an air horn. She must have been stalking him. I was willing to bet every penny of my savings that Rachel had been the one blowing up the line. Expected, my butt.

  How in the world had she gotten his hotel room number though?

  Garnering my courage, I stepped out from my corner and strolled across the lobby. “Hello, there,” I said cheerfully.

  Rachel spun around to face me, thick lip liner and all. After giving me a once over, she acted like I wasn’t worth her time.

  “Sorry. You probably don’t recognize me. My name is Gwen Vickers.” Coming to a halt before her, I companionably extended my hand. Women didn’t fight with fists. They fought through their eyes and through their words—something my mother had drilled into me. And I was going to stand my ground where Garrick was concerned, especially in the face of a toxic person like Rachel.

  I didn’t want to give away that I knew her name, because that would reveal Garrick had been talking about her, which wouldn’t convey the right message.

  “Oh!” Rachel exclaimed, donning a false smile. “No. I didn’t.” Her eyes darted to my hand. Instead of taking it, she hooked her hair behind her ear. “I’m Rachel. Just come from the gym?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” I answered, dropping my hand. “Not afraid of a little sweat, are you? Just means you put in a good effort.”

  “Oh, I put in great effort,” she assured me in a syrupy voice I could have worn sat underscored by a threat.

  “Look. I know we’ve never met.” I shifted my weight, jutting on hip out as I crossed my arms. “But Garrick’s a good friend of mine. And I think you should stay away from him.”

  “Do you?” she purred.

  “Yes. Did I stutter, dear?”

  She canted her head, appraising. “What are you? His girlfriend? Are you the little cutie he was harping about in the parking lot? I thought it may have been you. That other twig bitch was a bit too skinny.”

  I narrowed my eyes viciously, wishing I could sock her in the face. “Erica is a gorgeous and wonderful person. Furthermore, she’s also a millionaire.”

  Rachel pursed her lips, staring me down the way a vulture would its dying meal. I knew that would get her goat. Money always did with girls like her.

  “I’ll only say this once more.” I dared a step forward. “Stay away from Garrick. He doesn’t need you in his life.”

  “Yes he does,” she defended.

  Flatly, and quite insincerely, I smiled. “Then why hasn’t he contacted you?”

  Rachel’s eyes flashed, nostrils flaring. “You just wait, Vickers. We’ll see who wins and who gets stepped on.”

  I cocked my eyebrow, unafraid. “I don’t want to win. He’s not a prize, and we’re not together. We’re just friends,” I lied.

  She scoffed. “Yeah. Feed that story to some other girl, babe. I’m not fooled.” Her eyes scaled my body once more with the distinct impression of disdain. “I’m late for a luncheon anyway.” With that, she spun on her heel, forcing me to dodge the barrage of blonde hair that blew up in her wake. “Ta,” she sang, lifting her hand and fluttering her fingers as she breezed toward the door.

  Growling under my breath, I left the lobby in the opposite direction, eager to rinse off the sting of Rachel’s perfume more so than the salt from my sweat.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Garrick

  Emerging from Vintage, a snazzy upscale restaurant, I fished my phone from my pocket.

  A snooty guy in an expensive suit had contacted me earlier that week, insisting that we get together to chat about potentially swapping my agent to him. Thought he was a real big shot. But I couldn’t blame him when he showed me the impressive list of former clients he had up his sleeve. And even though his smile had been as well-oiled as his hair, I had to turn him down. My agency had landed me a roll in Blast Zone and Straightlaced, and I was loyal to them for that.

  It had been nice to be picked up in a limousine though. Despite the fact that our interlude hadn’t gone the way he hoped, the guy held true to his offer to take me back to the Lodge the way we had come. That was a big relief, considering that if I stood out on the curb, awaiting a ride or taxi, I’d have no protection against the throng of fan girls that could come squealing at me should I be so unfortunate as to be recognized.

  Hearing my phone chime with a text alert, I thumbed open my inbox, the message archived under an unknown, unsaved number. I clicked it.

  Better keep a close eye on your little bug of a girlfriend.

  I would hate to see her get squashed.

  - R

  “What the hell?” I sneered under my breath.

  We couldn’t have gotten back to Nativo Lodge fast enough. After a hasty goodbye and a sincere thank you, I shut the car door, jogged across the stone path yawning out in front of the entrance, pushed through the revolving doors, and hurried through the lobby.

  “Hey, man!” Shane greeted when I came around the corner, a towel slung over his shoulder. Beside him, Tyler held a pool noodle, looking as unimpressed, uninspired, and unwilling as usual. The surly guy didn’t smile either. For a split second, I wondered how Shane had coaxed him out of his room for a dip in the pool, a place he most certainly couldn’t take his Galaxy.

  “Not now,” I said.

  “Well what about later?” Shane called behind me.

  I couldn’t even stand to take the elevator. Instead, I took the stairs in leaps of twos and threes. Finally, I came to our floor.

  “Gwen!” I said insistently, banging my fist against her door. A moment later, she answered, face drawn in a confused, slightly incensed frown at my urgency.

  “What?” she snapped, long, wavy locks of sopping wet hair cascading over her shoulder. She clutched a towel around her, tucked between her breasts. My throat went dry, heat kicking up into my face and down into my second brain. “Is there a fire?” Opening her door a breath more, she peered out into the hall, looking left and right. Soft jazz music played in the background. The fragrance of her shower products wafted into my nose, saturating my senses.

  Shit…

  I had nearly forgotten why I came in the first place.

  Beset with the need to wrap her in my arms and bury my nose in my hair, I set my jaw and shook my head.

  She blinked, eyed me, and suddenly blushed, probably having realized that she stood before me in nothing but a towel, makeup notwithstanding. I had seen her naked, and she had been beautiful. But seeing her completely natural made her gorgeous.

  “Well, don’t just stand there!” she insisted in a timidly harsh whisper, shifting to linger behind the door and poke her head around the edge. “What’s wrong?”

  I blinked myself out of my stupor. “Can I come in? It’s important. And I can’t talk about it out here.”

  The cherry bled out of her cheeks and her eyes dropped straight to my crotch. “You don’t have—?” she questioned with a look of horror.

  Mind scrambling to finish her thought, my eyebrows plunged into a frown. Suddenly, her meaning blasted through my mind. “What! No!” I exclaimed, all but sputtering as I stepped forward and shouldered my way into her room. She shut the door behind me.

  “Girl, seriously? I don’t have a STD or anything else you wouldn’t want.”

  “Oh, thank god,” she breathed, moving to collapse on the edge of her bed, having been swaying as though she might fall before reaching it. She planted her hand over her heart. “Then what?”

  “Did you talk to Rachel at all? Today? Yesterday?” I had to know, inching closer.

  Gwen suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Yes. Today.”

  I balked. “Where? When!”

  “She was in t
he lobby, asking for your room number. I told her to leave.”

  Heaving a sigh of both wonderment and dread, I dragged my hand down my face. “Baby, you can’t get yourself involved with her. You can’t get tangled in her web. I’m sure she did that just to bait you, if not to smoke me out. I disconnected my phone last week, because she had tried to call.”

  “That’s what I thought. That’s why I told her to go away. She wouldn’t even listen to concierge.”

  “Gwen, you don’t want to fight against her.”

  “Why? What’s so terrifying about her? Aside from being more than 60% silicon… She’s practically a Transformer.”

  Crossing to her, I knelt and rested my hands on her bare, warm knees. “She has a lot of connections to a lot of dangerous people—people who can create any tabloid rumor, frame any celebrity for any act, and trash careers.”

  Gwen’s eyes widened. Tearing her eyes from me, she searched the floor. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “I didn’t realize.” She worried her lip. “Though I’m not sure knowing would have made a difference. She’s horrible, Garrick.”

  “Just promise me that you’ll stay away from her. I got a text from her about half an hour ago, and it specifically threatened you. What you did was brave, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy. But I can handle myself. The last thing I could stomach is you somehow being hurt over this. I know how much your reputation means to you, and I respect that.”

  Assuming a sheepish, shy smile, she nodded at me. “Thanks, Garrick.”

  Wearing a lopsided grin, I nodded. Realizing she still sat in her towel, the dew of undried moisture droplets still spotting her elegantly curved shoulders, I found my feet.

  "Sorry I . . . interrupted your bath time," I muttered.

  She giggled somewhat bashfully. "It wasn't bath time. I was in the shower. The tub is way too big to use by myself. Pretty sure I would get lost."

  I snorted out my agreement, slipping my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, and chuckled. "Right? Why do they make those things for five people in a two-person suite? If someone wanted to soak, wouldn't they just go down to the Jacuzzi?"

  "That's my thought," she bantered back.

  "Yeah." My voice trailed off and I caught myself nodding awkwardly. My tongue darted over my lip and I tried to mask it with a casual looking bite, recalling our conversation about “one and done.” Sure, we’d had fun on our date last night; I didn’t want to push things too far yet. "Well, I should let you get back to it." Nodding toward the door, I backtracked. "Pretty sure Shane and Tyler think I'm a madman with the way I bolted past them, and they're probably expecting me at the pool. I'll catch you later." Pivoting to the door, I let my fake smile tumble off my face and reached for the handle.

  "Garrick," Gwen called gently, stopping me in my tracks. "You don't have to leave."

  Shocked, I felt my silent inhale and internally screamed for joy. Gradually, I faced her.

  "I mean,” she gulped, “if you have places to go," she hastily added, trying to mask any hope that I would change my mind, as though Tyler and Shane stood leagues above her company on my priority list, "you should go. I just thought, maybe, since neither of us have tried the bathtub, then maybe we could brave it together." Her eyes darted to and from my face, as though scouring for some sign, some tell, to betray my answer before my lips did.

  "Absolutely," I answered aloud, excitement surely blatant on my face. She glanced up at me through her luscious lashes, freckled cheeks swelling as she turned a smile.

  * * *

  "I like your hands," Gwen commented moments later when we both sat submerged in a warm, sudsy bath.

  Still filling, the water had reached our navels. Gwen sat with her back against my bare chest, and had taken up an intense study of my hand, mapping out every crease, callous, and line with her delicate, feminine fingers. I smiled to myself, nestling my nose in her damp hair, watching contently and inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

  "Yeah?" I inquired rhetorically.

  "Yeah," she stated anyway. "They're strong."

  I chuckled. After placing a kiss on her shoulder, I said, "If you say so."

  "I do," she insisted with an octave more conviction.

  Goddammit, I loved her this way. This was the same vulnerable sweetheart I had discovered the other night, the woman she was a few stages before passionate vixen. The way she touched me left tingles in the wake of her fingers, lulling me into a sleepy-eyed, almost contented state. She sat too close to completely ignore my other urges. My free hand slid around her and I pressed it against her abdomen, fingers splayed possessively as I applied enough pressure to draw her a breath closer to my body.

  Leaning down, I found her ear through her hair, my lips brushing over the shell as I said, "They'd like to hold you."

  I could hear the conflict, and the hot, huskier hue of desire fill her tone when she replied, "They are holding me."

  "No. Not like this," I corrected. What I envisioned, and what my hands craved, stood far more intimate than a watery cuddle session.

  Gwen paused. I could feel the muscles across her body tensing, as if poising herself to spring away and leap out of the bathtub, clear across the room, and sprint out into the hall. My hand didn't move from her abdomen while I awaited her verdict with bated breath. Her shoulders relaxed, rising and falling, chest swelling and floating, with the rhythm of her lungs as she inhaled deeply.

  "Then hold me," she whispered.

  Slowly, she turned her head to gaze over her lightly freckled shoulder and into my face. Blood instantly hotter than the water, and body chomping at the bit to respond, I laid my right hand against her throat, thumb propping up her chin, and kissed her plump, pink lips. I loved the taste of her, like bubble mint toothpaste.

  My submerged hand eased lower in search of the intimate place I wanted to touch most. To my delight, I found that her body had responded enthusiastically to my touch. She purred against my mouth as my hand dipped over her, fingers caressing her. She squirmed against me, subtly at first until it progressed to more of a writhe. I grew painfully hard against the small of her back. The energy between us built and built until it exploded.

  Suddenly, she withdrew from me and spun around, some of the water sloshing out over the side of the tub with the lightning swift switch, and we met in a passionate kiss. Clumsily, I reached aside to fumble with the faucet and knocked it into the off position. Meanwhile, Gwen looped her arms around my neck and straddled my lap. I felt her firm, warm, water splashed breasts against my chest, her pert nipples as hard with desire as they had been the other night. I wrapped my arms around her, planted my hands on her ass, and squeezed.

  She moaned. I panted. Guiding her hips, I pulled her tighter against me, almost losing my mind at the feel of her most tender flesh against my bare, condomless cock.

  Shit.

  “Condom,” I barely managed to choke out. “I’m not wearing a condom.”

  She moaned, rested her forehead against mine and stared beseechingly into my eyes. “Garrick…” she whimpered. “I—I’m on the pill. Are you—are you…?”

  My fingers tightened on her hips, my first instinct to whoop for joy and plunge inside her. But this was Gwen and more than the pleasure of her body, I cared for her. And I wanted to protect her.

  “I always wear a condom. Always,” I said. “But I…” I’ve been with a lot of girls. I choked on the words, not wanting to taint the moment with them. But this was Gwen and the pill wasn’t foolproof and damn it, I wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize her or her future.

  “I have a condom in my wallet. Let me take care of you, Gwen.”

  She stared at me, eyes intense and almost wondrous, then she nodded.

  Swiftly, but with probably less grace then I would have liked to admit, I gently nudged her back until I could reach over the side of the tub to grab my pants from the floor. The whole time, Gwen watched me, panting, trembling, as if she couldn’t wait for me to fill her up.

  God
this girl drove me fucking crazy and I was going to relish every damn second of the insanity that I could.

  Finally finding the condom packet, I ripped it open and covered myself, cursing when my wet skin made it a challenge and laughing shakily when Gwen’s eager hands tried to help and only ended up drawing out the task a few more hellish seconds. But then I was covered and she shoved my hands away and…

  Wriggling, she slid down and onto my cock, quickly enveloping it into her tight wet warmth, even more white-hot than the water.

  Together, we gasped in pleasure. Holy fuck, she felt good. My hands slipped down to squeeze her creamy, smooth thighs. As I began to slather her neck in sloppy kisses, she started to roll her hips. And I lost it.

  Roping an arm around her, I sat up, taking her with me and came forward, laying her down on the side bench used to lounge on the jets. Bracing one palm against the tub's slick, porcelain edge, I started pounding into her. She tangled her limbs around me, encouraging me by flexing her calves, a glorious shade of pink bursting into her freckled cheeks. Her fingernails bit into my back.

  The delicious feel of her, even better than she had felt the other night, sent my sane mind into a tailspin. Frenzied, I became carnal, possessive, wanting to mark every inch of her stellar body to let any other interested party know precisely whom she belonged to. Mine. The word echoed through my head in an endless refrain. I hadn't even known feeling this way could be possible after the crap that went down and the heartache I endured with Rachel.

  "Garrick," she whimpered, arching her back and clenching around me.

  "Fuck," I breathed, floored by the outpouring of ecstasy that knotted itself in my stomach and spread tantalizing tendrils into my extremities. "Gwen," I groaned.

  I had never been with a woman who felt this damn good. And it wasn't just the fact that she was tight, or drop dead gorgeous, or really any of the physical aspects. What struck me hardest was that when I looked into her face, I could see the two of us sensationally barreling toward utter ruin and coming undone, chasing release together, neither using each other just for pleasure, and enjoying the journey there just as much as the ultimate destination. Gwen was present with me in this moment.