White Knight

by Mari Carr

  “Why don’t you do it?” The answer seemed fairly simple. Emma was no stranger to the Scoundrels stage, typically performing with her sexy husband, Jack, once a month.

  Emma shook her head. “I only act with Jack.”

  “Surely he’d understand.”

  “It’s not about him. I just couldn’t perform with another man. Jack’s the only one who…” Emma’s words faded away, but Becca filled in the blanks. Emma and Jack were ridiculously devoted to each other. In fact, Emma had fallen in love with her Black Jack while acting out a pirate fantasy on the Scoundrels stage.

  “So call in another actress.”

  Emma shot her a dirty look. “Inspired idea, Bec. You think I haven’t thought of that? Shea’s upstairs right now, dialing the phone off the hook, but even if she manages to find someone, there’s no time to get them in costume and character.” Emma glanced at her cell. “I need my actress here in the next ten minutes in order to start this show on time.”

  “What about one of the waitresses?” Becca suggested.

  Emma looked around the bar area, considering the idea. Then she sighed. “No. None of them would last five minutes with my actor. I need someone stronger, more self-confident, not easily intimidated.” Emma’s gaze landed on Becca and held.

  Becca raised her hand. “Forget it. I don’t act.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Becca frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It won’t be an act for you because it’s your fantasy. Remember when we went to lunch at Bouchon in Beverly Hills a couple months ago?”

  Becca nodded, catching Emma’s drift immediately. “What have you done?”

  Emma grinned guiltily. “I was struggling to come up with an idea for this month’s show and your fantasy was pretty hot. I decided I could do some wicked things with the lighting and the music and with the right actor…” Emma gave her a hopeful look.

  “I’m not going on stage to perform for the entertainment of three hundred perverts.”

  Emma laughed. “My patrons aren’t perverts. Much.”

  “Everyone’s a pervert deep down. How many men do you have backstage, ready to act this out?”

  Emma raised her eyebrows wickedly. “Three.”

  Becca’s mouth went dry, recalling when she and Emma had indulged in a margarita lunch date at Bouchon. The alcohol left them both giddy and talkative. When Emma revealed that she and Jack enjoyed exhibitionism—sex in public, Becca suddenly understood why they thrived on the Scoundrels stage. The fantasies they recreated were so hot, they melted the paint off the walls. After Emma shared her secret, Becca let it slip that her darkest desire was to be taken, captured, held down by two men while ravished by a third.

  Now Emma was offering her a chance to live out the fantasy. It was a tempting gift, if only it didn’t come with the damn audience. Then another memory hit. “Who’s the leading man?”

  Emma didn’t reply immediately, her friend’s silence setting off an alarm in Becca’s mind. “Give me an answer first.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Emma didn’t relent. “Say you’ll do the show and I’ll tell you who the actor is.”

  Becca scowled. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  Emma looked at her phone again, biting her lip nervously. Then, she raised her gaze to Becca and said the one thing guaranteed to put her on the stage. “Please, Becca, help me.”

  * * * *

  Becca stood outside the dressing room door, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. Offering to help Emma by the bar had seemed easy. Then she’d walked backstage and made the mistake of looking out into the audience. Every seat was filled. She was so fucked.

  Before Emma could tell her who the leading man was, a small scuffle broke out near the entrance. Emma had told her to get in costume—apparently there was a nightgown hanging behind the door—and she’d be along soon to give her a breakdown of the show.

  The Scoundrels shows always ran for one month. Different actors enacted each night’s unscripted performance, so the show was never exactly the same. Emma simply created a sexy scenario and encouraged the performers to put their own spin on the plotline.

  Becca entered the dressing room. The room was dimmer than she’d expected, illuminated only by the lights surrounding the mirror.

  Great. The mysterious leading man wasn’t even here yet.

  Tonight was destined to be a bust. She started to flip the light switch on the wall, but froze when she heard a deep voice say, “Don’t.”

  She glanced around the shadows and discovered she wasn’t alone. “It’s too dark in here. I need to get into my costume.”

  The man chuckled. “Then by all means. Turn on the light. I don’t mind a clearer view of you getting naked, queen.”

  “Parker?” No wonder Emma hadn’t told her who the leading man was. Her friend hadn’t kept the secret from Becca. It was for Becca.

  Four years earlier, Parker Banks had earned a living at Scoundrels as a waiter before, after nearly a year of begging, Emma finally gave the aspiring actor a shot on the stage. Emma had said after his performance he was too good for their little nightclub show and she’d been correct.

  A talent scout had approached Parker that very night and, from that point on, his career skyrocketed, earning him countless roles as a big-screen heartthrob and a spot as one of People’s Most Beautiful People last year.

  As a waiter, Parker had harassed Becca for months, begging her to go out with him, but she’d put him off, declaring she didn’t date actors. A lifetime of dealing with her famous father’s numerous wives, mistresses and casual affairs had jaded her forever. She’d told Parker he would simply have to settle for friendship—and he had. They’d become best friends, hanging out after hours, watching movies, devouring lots of pizza, and sharing their dreams for the future. Becca didn’t make friends easily, and apart from Emma and Shea, Parker had been on the very short list of people she genuinely trusted and cared about.

  Then, stardom struck and the two of them drifted apart. Parker spent months each year on location, while Becca worked long hours at Scoundrels, trying to escape her father’s enormous shadow. Parker had called a few times to check on her, but their friendship had been put on the back burner as real life and Parker’s insane schedule conspired against them.

  During Parker’s three years in the spotlight, he’d proven her assumptions about actors true, as he’d been romantically linked with no less than six different women—actresses, models, dancers. All of the women had been famous and stunningly beautiful. Typical.

  Parker rose from his chair and approached her. She forced herself to remain still, while every fiber of her being told her to get the hell out of the room. Parker Banks was danger personified to a way of life she’d remained true to forever. She would never be the groupie girlfriend, content to accept however many minutes Parker chose to bestow on her. Given his track record, the average time between hot to not in his bedroom was around three months.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He stood directly in front of her. Close enough that she could smell the light scent of his shampoo and detect the slightest trace of peppermint on his breath. “Acting.”

  His answer was too pat, too simple. “Isn’t this sort of taking a huge step backwards, Hollywood?”

  He shook his head. “No. When Emma described the role to me, I had to have the part, had to claim opening night.”

  “You might come to regret that request. Angie broke her ankle. I’m filling in.”

  His smile grew and realization dawned hard.

  “Angie didn’t fall, did she?”

  Parker shrugged as Becca struggled to take a deep breath. What were he and Emma up to? What were they trying to achieve?

  “I see. I think Emma should find another—”

  Parker grasped her face in his hands, tugging her closer. “You’re not going anywhere but on that stage, Bec.”

  Her lungs seized at the thought of actin
g out her private fantasy with the man who actually starred in it night after night.

  He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ve missed you.”

  She couldn’t help it. She scoffed. “Yeah. Every time I turn around, the tabloids are proclaiming how lonely you are with the current Miss Drop Dead Gorgeous Blonde. I imagine it’s been pretty rough for you.”

  Parker didn’t take offense at her snide comment. “I see you’re still a smart ass. Nice to know that hasn’t changed.”

  “I’m not doing this.”

  Parker stroked her cheek, the touch an incredible blend of comfort and seduction. Becca’s nipples tightened and her stomach clenched. Then he pushed her back against the closed dressing room door. “You’re wrong. You are.”

  “Parker—”

  He reached for the hem of her t-shirt. Becca jerked, gripping his wrists to stop him from tugging the cotton over her head.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Getting you accustomed to my touch. You can’t flinch like that on stage. You’re supposed to want me.”

  Oh, she wanted him, but she couldn’t let him see that. She refused to be another name on his list of sexual conquests. Her heart simply couldn’t take it if he seduced her, then tossed her aside.

  Rather than admit the truth, she latched onto the out he provided. “Which is exactly why this won’t work.”

  He shook off her grip and slipped his hands beneath her shirt, stroking her bare skin.

  She tried to force air to her lungs, but somewhere along the line, she’d lost the ability to breathe.

  Fortunately, Parker didn’t try to kiss her. There was no way she’d find the strength to break away from him if he did. One taste and she’d be a goner.

  “That’s better,” he murmured when she relaxed under his soft caresses. “Should I build the scene for you, Becca? Tell you what’s going to happen on the stage tonight?”

  “Emma said she would do that.”

  Parked placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, his breath hot against the sensitive skin there. “Emma’s not coming back here.”

  His words confirmed her suspicions. After Becca revealed her fantasy, Emma had asked if she had anyone in mind to play her leading man. Becca had blurted out Parker’s name before she could think better of it.

  Fucking margaritas. She’d tried to pass it off as a joke, but clearly the damage had been done. “The two of you set me up.”

  Parker shook his head. “No. Emma helped me set us up.”

  “There is no us.”

  “Are you so sure of that?” His lips descended on her ear and, taking the lobe between his teeth, he bit down gently.

  “I don’t want this.” Yeah right. Liar liar, pussy on fire.

  It was Parker’s turn to scoff. “You’re not going to push me away anymore. This was inevitable.”

  Becca closed her eyes, fighting for the ability to step away from him. It was a futile effort. “This is just a fantasy, Parker. Playacting. So give me the scene. And let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 2

  Parker resisted the urge to fist pump the air. Becca would go onstage with him and he’d show her why the reality of the two of them was going to be a hell of a lot better than her damn fantasy. He wouldn’t rest until she realized exactly how much he wanted her.

  His mother had always accused him of being a closet romantic, swearing that for all his swaggering and strutting around women, when love came it would take him down hard and forever. Parker had dismissed his mother’s comment, calling it a load of bullshit until the day he laid eyes on Becca Preston. She’d given him a sassy smile, then made a dirty joke. Two minutes later, he’d fallen in love with tough-as-nails, sexy-as-sin redhead.

  Unfortunately, bad timing and Becca conspired against him. Now that he had his career on track, it was time to take control of the personal front. When Emma called him a couple of months ago and shared Becca’s fantasy, he’d decided he wasn’t going to let Becca’s fears and fucked-up ideas about actors and infidelity stand in his way.

  He grasped her t-shirt and pulled it over her head before she could refuse him again.

  Becca started to cover herself, but he clasped her hands, tugging them to the door, holding them against the wood by her head. She struggled for a few seconds, but lust soon took over, slowed her motions, overpowered the part of her that wanted to resist him.

  Now that he knew her secret, he was ready. He’d keep her so aroused she couldn’t find a reason to walk away.

  “You’ll be onstage alone at first,” he whispered.

  “On the bed?”

  “Yes. The fantasy is a dream sequence. Your dream.”

  She closed her eyes to avoid his penetrating stare. Was it embarrassment or annoyance that drove the action? Becca cleared her throat, betraying her discomfort. “Emma misunderstood.”

  He laughed quietly. “No, she didn’t. And if you continue to lie to me, Bec, I’ll punish you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, her narrowed gaze finding his. She wouldn’t be easily commanded. He was glad about that.

  “Big words.” She tried to sound tough, but he was on to her game now. In the past, she’d pushed him away with that stupid no actors dating rule. Becca had serious trust issues. Because of that, she pushed men away—hard. Now, he understood that what she wanted was someone who found her worthy of fighting for. Even if that meant doing battle with Becca herself.

  She’d pushed him away for the last time. That wasn’t going to work tonight. Tonight he was pushing back, claiming what he—no, what they—wanted.

  He lowered her hands, placing them at her sides. “Leave your hands there. Don’t move them unless I give you permission to do so.”

  Parker unhooked her bra. She tried to keep the lace in place, but he was stronger than her. He pulled it away easily, then pushed her hands more forcefully to the wall. Becca whimpered softly, turned on by his power play. The independent woman was a closet submissive. Holy shit. His cock, already hard, thickened even more.

  That knowledge encouraged him to take things to the next level. He started to tackle the buttons on her jeans.

  “Parker.” Her eyes dilated and her breathing became more labored. He’d been around the block enough times to understand the reactions were pure lust, not a trace of fear.

  “No more talking, Becca. You want this. I want this. Let’s stop pretending otherwise.” He stripped off her jeans and panties quickly, quietly instructing her to toe off her shoes as well. Becca’s hands balled into fists, but she kept them pressed against the wall. Once she was completely naked, he stepped back and took his long, first leisurely look at her body.

  Becca’s skin flushed slightly under his perusal, but he knew her. Knew it wasn’t driven by modesty. She was hot. Red-hot. His fiery queen. He’d intended to stoke her arousal, turn her on, then send her out on the stage, heavy with lust and need. It would serve her right for pushing him away, for denying them years of this.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the mood to wait.

  Parker reached for the tie on the robe he’d donned while waiting for his leading lady to arrive. Becca’s eyes widened when he shrugged off the material.

  “Fuck,” she murmured.

  He grinned, taking her curse as a compliment. His dick was rock hard and he was finished playing games. “Open your legs, Bec.”

  She blinked rapidly. “You can’t seriously intend—”

  “This is exactly what I intend.” Parker bent down to retrieve the condom he’d slipped into the pocket of his robe. He donned it quickly, then lifted one of her legs, drawing it high.

  “Wet?” he asked.

  She chuckled, the sound so purely Becca, Parker fought not to laugh with her. “What do you think?”

  She was indomitable. Perfect.

  Fucked.

  He placed his cock at her opening and shoved in hard, fast. Becca’s head flew against the door as her hands reached out to grasp his shoulders. He didn’t co
rrect her for moving them. Instead, he drove in deeper.

  “God, Parker.”

  Her voice grounded him, helped him stay in control. While there was nothing he wanted more than to take Becca with reckless abandon, he had a game plan. He pounded inside her one more time, then froze, balls deep inside her hot pussy.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, confusion furrowing her eyebrows. “Don’t stop.”

  He grinned. She didn’t get it. Yet. But she would. “You’re mine.”

  Becca didn’t like his assertion. He knew she wouldn’t. “For now.”

  His smile grew. Bringing the powerhouse Becca Preston around to his way of thinking would take time. But for Parker, the only outcome that was acceptable was the one where she wore his wedding ring on her finger. “From now on.”

  She pushed against his shoulders, trying to shove him away. This time…he did react. He pulled free of her body, bending to retrieve the belt from his robe. Before she had a chance to react, he captured her wrists and secured them behind her back.

  “What the fu—”

  Parker kissed her, roughly. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, demonstrating exactly how much control he had over her. She twisted against him, trying to free her hands, but her efforts were futile.

  After several tumultuous moments, she stilled, her lips softening against his as she not only accepted his kisses, but began to respond. Only when she calmed did he release her lips.

  “That’s better. Good girl.” The comment stung. He’d known it would. In all her life, no man had ever tried to control Becca. She’d been raised as Hollywood royalty, a lifestyle that had chafed from the cradle. He’d adopted the nickname Queen for her because she’d perfected the haughty, untouchable routine.

  Men deferred to her, tried to win her favor, in hopes of getting close to her father…or the family fortune. As a result, she’d donned a prickly suit of wicked barbs and dark scowls and held the hounds at bay, never letting anyone get close.

  Until him.

  He lifted her leg once more and pressed his cock deep inside her. This time, he moved slower, taking care to find every hot spot. Parker set a different pace with easy thrusts and slow retreats.