A Taste of Pink (Shades Book 4)

by Stephanie Hoffman McManus

  His lips trailed a scorching path along my jaw and down my neck. One rough hand slid up my stomach, over my ribcage to cup my breast through the spandex material. My heart threw itself against my ribcage, threatening to break free. Our hips rocked together magnificently, but my shorts needed to go. Now. I locked my legs around him, pulling him in tighter and raked my nails down his spine. He shuddered and hissed and drove his hips against mine.

  I gasped and dug my nails into the dimples of his back.

  His hand slid down my stomach and shoved into the waistband of my shorts. Rough fingers found my center, stealing the air from my lungs. He dropped his forehead against mine, our harsh breaths mixing as he slid a finger through my slit and pushed inside, stretching me at the same time his thumb flicked the tiny nub at the center of all my pleasure. I drove my hips up off the bed and cried out, choked by my own desire. With skillful fingers he owned my pleasure. It built and roared inside of me, and then crashed over me.

  He swallowed my strangled moans and then his fingers were gone, and he was yanking my shorts down my legs and tugging my bra over my head. I frantically shoved and kicked at his boxers until they came off too and we were skin against skin. Heartbeat against heartbeat. Madness and need. Passion and desperation. The tension that had been building for weeks finally snapped, and every filthy wish and desire I’d indulged in my mind was no longer fantasy.

  And, can I just say, reality was a thousand times better than fantasy. It was like he was punishing us both, whether for denying this for too long, or for finally giving in I didn’t know.

  We both took and took until we couldn’t take anymore, and lay spent in a tangle of sweaty limbs, our harsh, ragged breaths eventually tapering off to the quiet, even ones of sleep.

  Eleven

  Riley

  I woke with a groan, stretching out like a cat beneath the covers, my muscles deliciously sore from last night’s bedroom Olympics. A smiled played across my lips when I looked at the spot beside me, the pillow still indented, the sheets and blankets mussed. They probably smelled like him.

  I pulled the covers up over my face to muffle my squeals of delight as I kicked my feet like a lunatic. A really happy, sore lunatic.

  Once I was done being a total spaz, I scrambled out from under the covers with more enthusiasm than had propelled me from bed in a long time. I threw on random pieces of clothing and spared a long enough peek in the mirror to pull my hair up into a sloppy bun before I anxiously ventured out of my room.

  Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran played in my head as I bounced down the stairs and into the empty kitchen.

  Everything has changed.

  Even the half full coffee pot on my counter looked different to me and had me smiling as I put the kettle on. Maybe we would sit together, him drinking his coffee and working on his computer as he did in the mornings, me sipping my tea, staring at him like a total fool.

  Where was he?

  I’d go find him as soon as I had my tea.

  I never made it out of the kitchen. I sensed him before I saw him. I was pouring the tea in my cup and a little shiver ran down my spine. I spun around, and he was there, leaning against the entryway to the kitchen.

  I bit my lip to stop the dorky grin that was taking over my face. He didn’t smile back. He watched me with a disturbingly distant expression.

  My smile slipped, and I hugged both of my hands nervously around my cup. “Good, morning,” I said cautiously.

  “I take it you haven’t turned your phone on this morning,” he replied gruffly.

  Knots formed in my stomach. I’d turned it off when we got home last night. “No, I—”

  “Maybe you should do that.” The way he tore his cold gaze from mine it was like he couldn’t stand to look at me.

  “James, what’s going on?”

  He turned and walked away without answering me.

  Whatever it was, it was bad. I swallowed back the rising panic and abandoned my cup in the kitchen. What was I going to see when I returned to my room and powered on my phone? What could be so horrible to be responsible for the change that had come over James? I’d fallen asleep to him tracing feather soft trails up and down my arm and laying lazy kisses all over my neck and shoulder, and this morning he could hardly look at me.

  I held the phone in my hand, finger hesitating over the power button. Was it too late to go back to bed and pretend for a few blissful moments longer that everything was finally right?

  Powering it on, my phone immediately went into an epileptic fit as one after another the notifications poured in.

  Eighteen missed calls.

  Twenty-six text messages.

  Social media notifications off the charts.

  So many web alerts.

  My stomach churned. This was not good.

  Ignoring the calls and texts, I opened up the web browser. I didn’t even have to plug my name into the search bar. It was already trending.

  The real Riley James.

  Drugs.

  Addiction.

  Covered up overdoses.

  I spent several minutes pouring over articles and web posts, all with the same set of incriminating pictures. Worse than the photos were the statements from their sources. The more I read, the further the knife dug into my back. By the time I finally threw my phone down on the bed, I was borderline manic. At any second I might burst out laughing or crying.

  My phone rang on the bed. It was Luis.

  He would fix this. He would know what to do.

  “I just woke up and saw it,” I said upon answering.

  “Yes, I know. James let me know you were finally awake,” he clipped. “We’re on our way over to you now.”

  “Who’s we?” I stood and began pacing my room.

  “Angela and Jayne. We’ll be there soon. Don’t take any calls. Don’t talk to anyone.”

  Good, I thought. We could all brainstorm together to figure out how to fix this. Angela would definitely know what to do.

  I promised Luis I wouldn’t and then lowered myself to the bed again.

  It’s going to be okay.

  Luis and Angela would fix this.

  James! What he must be thinking right now. I had to explain.

  I found him in the kitchen, sitting at the peninsula counter holding his head in his hands. He scraped his fingers through his hair as he looked up at me.

  “I can explain everything. You have to listen to me,” I told him.

  “So you can lie to me and tell me it’s not what I think?”

  I took a desperate step toward him. “It’s not a lie, please just let me explain.”

  “Don’t bother. I wouldn’t know what to believe.” He shoved his chair back from the counter and stood. “Your stepdad will be here soon.”

  “Please believe me,” I said, begging him not to rip my heart right from my chest.

  “I want to, God I want to Riley, but I can’t. I know what I saw.”

  My throat constricted, choking my words. “What do you mean, what you saw?”

  “In New York. You can’t deny that picture. I was there remember? I saw it. I didn’t want to believe . . . God, you had me fooled.” He sounded so disgusted. I felt the tearing in my chest and then the gaping hole.

  I turned away from him, unable to bear that look on his face. I stared at the cup on the counter. How was is that just a handful of minutes ago, I’d been brewing my tea, smiling like an idiot, heart fluttering in my chest, and now it was breaking, and my world was crashing around me? I wanted a rewind button. I wanted to do this morning over, wake up beside him, drink my cup of tea with him, cook him breakfast . . .

  “What’s in the tea Riley?”

  My head snapped around. “What do you mean the tea?”

  “Your special blend, what is it?” He walked over and snatched the cup up. “What is it that has you drinking, two, three cups a day? I thought it might just be a diuretic, or weight loss thing, but now . . . what is it, Riley?”

  “You
’re really going to believe everything you read in some stupid tabloids? Lies my ex is spouting? There are no drugs in my tea, James. It’s just tea. And Derrick didn’t cheat on me because my drug use was putting a strain on our relationship. He cheated because he’s an asshole. And a liar.”

  “Riley, just stop.”

  “I’m not lying,” I shouted through the tightness in my throat, my eyes burning with tears I refused to cry in front of him.

  “Let me guess, you have an explanation for the picture of you giving Mila drugs too, and the incident on the set of Promise Me, filming having to stop for two weeks because of your mysterious hospital visit? I can keep going. It’s all there.”

  “It’s all lies,” I cried. “Mila was trying to give me drugs! I wasn’t offering them to her in that picture, I was giving them back! She’s the liar.”

  “And are Jayne and Luis liars too? Because I talked to them. They both said you struggled after your mom died, that you changed,” he said sadly, as if he felt so bad for me.

  I shook my head, the tears now falling regardless of how hard I tried to blink them back. “It’s not true. What happened two years ago wasn’t—I just need you to believe me. You have to believe me. Last night—”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t, I can’t have that conversation with you like this. Not right now. Let Luis—”

  “God, I’m such a fucking idiot,” I muttered, wiping at my eyes with my arm. Because I had to be to think last night would mean anything to him. Might mean he’d trust me, believe me over everyone else.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re fired James.” I grabbed my car keys from the counter and bolted out the door into the garage. James was right on my heels. He grabbed my shoulder as I reached for the driver’s door.

  “Riley, stop.”

  I spun around, throwing his hand off. “No, you stop. Stop pretending you give a shit. Stop pretending like you know me. Just stop.” I was one more pathetic look from him away from completely losing it. I climbed in my car and hit the opener for the garage. I didn’t spare him another glance as I backed my car onto the street, thankful he didn’t have a vehicle to follow me.

  I didn’t know where I was going when I pulled through the gate. I just drove. Anywhere was better than back there with him. Pain sliced like a knife through my insides.

  It was hard to breathe through it.

  I hit the highway and tears poured in streams down my cheeks and I just kept driving. I didn’t care that I was going too fast, or that it was hard to see through the tears. I didn’t care if I wrecked my car or not.

  And then I heard my mother’s voice so clearly in my head. “Slow down, Riley.”

  A sob was ripped from my gut as I let off the gas. I edged my car to the side of the road, put it in park, and lay my head against the wheel and let myself feel every drop of pain and loss and grief and anger and regret. Awful sobs wracked my body. I gripped the wheel so tight my fingers ached, but I held on for dear life. I sucked in horrible gasping breaths. My throat grew hoarse and eventually my cries dried up.

  I lifted my head, wiping at my cheeks, searching for an old napkin or something to use for my runny nose.

  I inhaled a few deep breaths and then looked around at where I was parked. I had the highway on one side, the beach on the other. Without thinking too much, I donned the Mariner’s baseball cap James had left on the seat and grabbed my sunglasses before getting out of the car and walking down to the sand. I was probably a sight, barefoot and in pajama shorts. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of the public beaches. The only person I saw was a jogger headed away from me. I plopped down and dug my toes into the sand and stared out at the water and tried to find some sort of calm or peace.

  It didn’t really work, but still I sat there. Not sure how long. With no phone, I really didn’t have a sense of time. I only know the sun moved while I sat there. Eventually, I saw a group of teenagers approaching the section of beach. The last thing I needed was to be recognized, so I swiftly rose to my feet, brushed myself off and trekked back to the car. There was a dark blue sedan pulled off to the side of the road, just ahead of my car, but it was empty. I did a quick scan, expecting to see someone with a camera. It would just figure that paparazzi had followed me here. But there was no one around.

  I climbed in my car, not feeling the least bit better. If anything, the hollowness inside was worse. I turned the radio up as loud as it would go, too loud to think, and drove off. I passed several gas stations and stops, becoming all too aware of how empty my stomach was, but along with my cell phone, my purse had been left behind. I eased into one of the gas stations and dug around until I found enough change for a bottle of water and a power bar.

  I don’t know if the guy behind the counter recognized me or not. He didn’t say anything, but he was nice enough to let me use the phone.

  There was one person I needed to talk to.

  “Hello?” Just hearing his voice was a relief.

  “Daddy, it’s me.”

  “Baby girl?” All the anxiety and frustration and anger melted away at those two words.

  My shoulders sagged, and I exhaled, “Daddy . . .” I was surprised how much my voice shook, how much hearing his voice could make me feel like a little girl. I couldn’t even get the rest of my words out.

  “You okay, Aves?”

  “It’s not true. I swear it’s not,” I choked as tears I didn’t know I still had welled in my eyes behind the dark glasses.

  Dad chuckled, “Of course it’s not. Never for a second thought it was.”

  A relieved cry escaped. “You believe me?”

  “Ava, what’s going on?” He sounded concerned now.

  “Nothing,” I sighed, “it’s just that I think you’re the only one who doesn’t believe it.”

  “I know you, baby girl.”

  “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. I don’t know how I’m going to sort this mess out Dad.”

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay, but if it gets to be too much, and you need a break, you just come home.”

  “Okay.”

  The gas station attendant walked over to me. “Yo, you going to be on there much longer?”

  “Ava, where are you calling from?”

  “Just a second,” I said to the guy, and then told my dad, “I’m at a gas station. I left my phone at the house.”

  “Is that bodyguard with you?”

  I hesitated before replying. “No, we got into a fight this morning and I fired him.”

  “Are you by yourself?”

  I was quiet.

  “Ava, that’s not smart. You shouldn’t be out anywhere alone.”

  “I know, but I was so upset. I had to get away.”

  “Ava,” he said in his Dad tone.

  “I know,” I mumbled. “I know. I’ll go back home.”

  “You can face call me or whatever if you need backup.”

  “Thanks Dad.”

  “I love you, Aves.”

  “Love you too.”

  Even though Dad was right about me being out alone, I detoured slightly on the way home. There was one more place I wanted to stop.

  Our very first day in L.A. Mom took me to this scenic lookout on Mulholland Drive. We looked out at the city and all the lights and she told me all our dreams were going to come true in this place. That this city had life and energy and she could feel all the good things ahead of us. I was still so mad at her because I blamed her for the divorce, and I hadn’t wanted to move, but that night, I softened toward her. I realized that she’d been young like me once, that all her life she’d carried around these dreams, but had put them aside for the small-town life, to be a good wife and good mother. I realized then that she wasn’t the bad guy. I was still hurt, but I was a little less angry after that.

  I don’t know what I hoped coming here again would do, but I felt drawn. I thought I might be able to feel close to her here.

  There were several other cars at the lookout w
hen I drove up. I waited in my car, watching the sun set, until they left. I knew I wouldn’t have the spot to myself for very long, but I only needed a few minutes. Walking over to the edge, I stared out over this city that had been home for almost ten years now. This city had seen me up and down. It had seen my tears, my laughter, my joy, my successes, and failures. It was a place of hopes and dreams. Sometimes they came true, but often this city watched dreams die. It was beauty and heartbreak all at the same time. I guess it was however you saw it.

  I needed the reminder tonight that I wasn’t the only one struggling to find my way. There were so many people down there chasing their dreams and trying not to lose themselves in the process.

  This city could turn you around and upside down if you didn’t have a compass to hold tight to. Dad was mine, but coming up here also helped put things in perspective.

  I loved this city. I hated the ugliness under the facade, but it wasn’t all bad. This place had been good to me and if I could make it this far, I was strong enough to handle whatever else was thrown at me. I had to be, because this still was my dream, and the only way to really lose, the only thing that would make me a failure, would be if I walked away from here and gave up. I wasn’t ready for that, but maybe it was time to take a breather, and figure out where I went from here.

  I heard tires on the road approaching and made my way back to my car. A dark blue sedan was pulling in to the lookout as I was leaving. Was it the same one from earlier?

  I was being paranoid. There were thousands of blue cars in L.A. Still, I watched in the rearview to see if they did a U-turn. They didn’t, and I continued back onto the highway.

  Time to face the music.

  What would I do if James was still there when I got home? How was I supposed to look at him after last night and this morning and not feel like there was a knife protruding from my chest?

  Last night.

  Oh God. I thought I was going to be sick to my stomach.

  A pair of headlights approached quickly in my rearview. I glanced down at my speedometer. I had slowed way down without realizing it. I stepped on the gas a little harder, but still the car was gaining on me rapidly. The other lane was wide open, so I expected the driver to go around me, but instead the car pulled right up on my ass.