Holding Her Close

by Lexi Ryan

  She tenses, and even though she’s still in my arms, she physically withdraws. “I do, but Helen isn’t coming around. Trista wasn’t just the role of a lifetime; it was the only work of any substance I’ve had in years. A Roommates movie might be silly, but it’d be something to get me noticed again. It could save my dying career.” She blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that rant.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I press a kiss to the top of her head and settle my hand at her waist. I don’t want any animosity between us tonight, and asking about her career was a bad call on my part. “That makes sense. Tell me about Courtney and Jo. How long have you three been friends?”

  She looks out across the backyard, where dozens of guests mill around, drinking and talking, some dancing. “We didn’t meet until we were cast in Roommates. As you would expect, we ended up spending a lot of time together on and off set. I’ve always been close to my brother and his friends but had a hard time making girl friends. Courtney and Jo were tight from the beginning. It was as if they spent every waking moment together. But they included me a lot, and it was nice. We had a lot of fun.”

  And yet that’s not the dynamic I saw inside. Courtney and Jo as besties? Sure. But there was distance between the two of them and Janelle. “When did that change?”

  “That obvious, huh?” She swallows hard. “After I caught my husband cheating on me with Bella, I couldn’t trust anyone. He really changed me. Even Courtney and Jo . . . I don’t know. I like to blame the end of our friendship on Bella swooping in to make them her friends, but the truth is, I didn’t trust them. I always felt like they talked about me when I wasn’t around, like they wouldn’t hesitate to stab me in the back if it served them. And I suddenly started feeling like my entire relationship with these women I’d called my best friends was completely shallow. I need to take some responsibility for that. I know I can be cold and hard to connect to.” She drops her gaze to my chest. “Trust me, Tom made sure I knew that when our marriage was ending.”

  I tip her face up until she looks at me. “I don’t think you’re cold at all. Even when you were dressed in patent leather and a mask and wouldn’t tell me your name, I felt an instant connection with you.”

  Her tensed shoulders drop. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

  “I like you too, princess. Tell me it’s true. That you’re not going back to Tom.” Maybe I should try to hide some of the hope in my voice, but I can’t.

  She chews on the corner of her mouth and shakes her head. “I’m not. I don’t want Tom.”

  I’ve been waiting for those words, and I feel like this is the first full breath I’ve taken since he showed up at our hotel room. “Have you talked to him?” Something made her change her mind, and I want to know what. “I mean, since the day at the hotel?”

  * * *

  Janelle

  Have I talked to Tom?

  I swallow hard. I don’t want to lie to Cade, but I don’t like the way my conversation with Tom will implicate him in the investigation when they need to be focused on actual bad guys. I skirt the question altogether. “It wasn’t anything Tom said. I just want better. I realized . . .” I study him and swallow hard. I know I owe my realization to Cade and the way his attention and affection make me feel, but I don’t want to reveal too much about his role in my decision. I’m afraid he’ll think I expect more from him than he’s willing to give. “I realized I was only considering it because I was lonely and maybe a little sentimental. But I don’t want to be with him, and I realized even giving it a chance would be three steps back for me.”

  “Thank God,” he murmurs against my hair.

  We dance in silence, our bodies pressed together as we sway to the loud music. I’m faintly aware of the crowd around us—the splashing in the pool, the laughter of Courtney’s guests. I thought this was where I wanted to be tonight. I thought I wanted the distraction of friends and booze, but that’s all a shallow substitute for what I really wanted—Cade’s attention, his touch. Now that I have it, I don’t want to be here at all. I don’t know how much longer I get Cade, and I don’t want to share that time with anyone, especially not former friends whom I don’t even feel a bond with anymore.

  When the song ends, I step out of his arms. “Can we leave?”

  Cade nods and leads me to the door without question. I should say my goodbyes, thank the hostess and all that, but she probably won’t even notice I’m gone.

  Davis is waiting out front with the car. After I climb into the backseat with Cade, I pull out my phone and tap in a quick thank-you text to Courtney. When I look up, Cade is pressing the button to raise the privacy screen.

  My mind immediately circles back to the last time we shared the backseat of this car with that screen up. How it felt to be on my knees before him, the feel of his hand in my hair as I pulled him deep into my mouth.

  When Davis starts the car, Cade says, “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you tonight.”

  “Because it’s complicated?”

  “Complicated as fuck,” he whispers, “and getting more so by the day.”

  Unsure what to say, I look at the passing lights along the highway outside the window. I’ve made it clear what I want, and I’m not going to throw myself at him—or at least I’m going to try not to. Dear God, please don’t let me throw myself at him. Save me from begging this man for more than he’s willing to give.

  I know he wants me, and I could probably persuade him, but I don’t want to persuade Cade to make love to me. If we do this, there will be complications. One or both of us is going to end up hurt. I want Cade to want me enough that he believes one night together might just be worth the resulting casualties.

  “Come here.” He grabs my hand and tugs me toward his lap.

  Straddling him, I look into his eyes. “The windows are up,” I remind him. “There are no cameras. No one is watching.”

  “Good,” he says. “Because what I want to do to you is only about us. You and me and fucking feeling good. It’s not about your ex, or your producer, or the sick fuck who’s after you.” He strokes his thumb along the edge of my jaw before tracing my bottom lip. “It’s about you and how amazing you are. How different you are than any woman I’ve been with before.”

  I stare into his eyes, looking for the words he didn’t say. Any woman I’ve loved before. He didn’t say that, but I want to believe it’s there—that he’s fallen for me as completely as I’ve fallen for him.

  “I’m—” I shake my head. “Cade, there’s nothing amazing about me. I’m just a washed-up actress with a laundry list of mistakes.”

  “You’re better than every single person in that party. Present company included.”

  He had me before, but with these words, he’s taken my heart into his hands, and I know he can break me.

  I lean forward and press my mouth to his, drinking him in with small sips. He draws my bottom lip between his teeth and sucks. Our mouths open and our tongues slide together as his hands cup my ass.

  He tears his mouth from mine. “I need you alone.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve messed around back here.”

  “You think I need you to remind me?” He presses a kiss to the edge of my jaw. I start to back away, to drop to the floor again, but he holds me still. “I don’t need you to remind me how you looked on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “The image is burned on my brain. It’s my favorite thing to think about when I have my dick in my hand and am fighting the urge to come to your room.”

  “Don’t fight it,” I whisper. “I lie in bed thinking about the same thing.”

  His nostrils flare and his gaze drops to my mouth. “You fantasize about sucking me off?”

  Licking my lips, I shrug. “Do you fantasize about going down on me?”

  “Fuck yes. At least a dozen times an hour.”

  The car goes silent until I can’t hold back
my question anymore. “What’s going to happen when we get back to the house?” I hesitate then press forward. “Are we going to do this?”

  “Are you asking if I’m going to fuck you?”

  My breath catches. “Yeah.”

  He kisses me softly and slides a hand into my hair. “I don’t think that’s the question anymore.”

  “Then what is?”

  “Am I going to fuck you before or after I bury my face in your pussy?”

  The car stops, right on cue, and Cade and I climb out in charged silence.

  He keeps his hand on my arm as we race in the front door and are greeted by Jamaal in the foyer.

  Cade gives him a nod of acknowledgment and leads me toward the stairs and straight to the bedroom, locking the door behind us.

  “Finally,” he breathes, stepping back and raking his gaze over me.

  I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor. When I step out of it, Cade’s lips part, and he seems to stop breathing. His eyes roam over every inch of me, from my black thigh-highs to my lace thong up to my matching bra.

  As an actress, physical beauty is a prerequisite, and of all my insecurities, this isn’t one. But with Cade, it’s never been as simple as feeling beautiful. Beauty is cheap, and in this town it’s everywhere you look. Cade looks at me like my beauty is special. As if it’s something that can’t be found anywhere else.

  I reach for the clips holding my thigh-high stockings to my garter belt.

  “Leave them,” he says, his voice rough. “Those . . . fuck. I thought it was hard to keep my hands off you in that dress, but if I had any idea what you were wearing beneath it, I don’t think we would have made it out the door tonight.”

  I bite back a smile as I saunter toward him. I like seeing him like this—pupils dilated, nostrils flared, hands fisted at his sides as if he’s clinging to the edge of control. I push him backward into the bedroom’s sitting area and until the backs of his legs hit the chair. When I give his chest a light shove, he collapses into it. His eyes are trained on me like I’m a goddess and he’s grateful for the opportunity to worship.

  He wraps his hands around my legs, stroking the backs of my thighs with his fingertips before pulling me onto his lap. “Could you be more perfect?”

  I shake my head. I want him to see me—the real me. “I’m not perfect. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

  “Like what?”

  My gut flips at the idea of admitting my lowest moment. “Not tonight, okay? I don’t want to bring those decisions in this room. I just want you to know I’m not perfect. I sold my soul for my career a long time ago. Don’t convince yourself I’m someone I’m not.”

  He shakes his head and kisses the corner of my mouth. “You’re still in total possession of your soul, Janelle Crane. I know because I see it when I look into your eyes.”

  “All I’ve ever had was my career.” I graze my fingertips along his jaw, relishing the feel of his stubble. “When you only have one thing, you do whatever it takes to cling to it. I’m still an actress. I’m still the woman who hired a man to fix her reputation. I’m the woman who knows hiring Matt isn’t the worst she’s done. Is that who you want?”

  “I know who you are, and I know what I want. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” As if to prove his point, he lifts his hips, the thick length of his erection a delicious pressure between my legs.

  “Watching you leave is going to be hard enough,” I admit. “If we do this, letting you walk away is only going to be harder.” I squeeze my eyes shut and will him to tell me that he won’t be walking away, that he won’t be leaving.

  He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and brushes his lips along my jaw. “I know. Maybe that’s part of what made me hold back,” he says. “But I’ve known for a while now that regardless of whether or not we sleep together, I’m going to be a fucking wreck when this ends.” He holds me close and skims his lips down the column of my neck until my breath catches. “Maybe when it’s over, I want you to be just as fucked up by it as I am.”

  “Already done,” I whisper, and I tell my heart it’s not allowed to break. Not yet. Not until it’s over.

  He skims his knuckles over the lace of my thigh-highs. “I don’t want to forget you like this. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Never in my life have I wanted anything as much as I want you.”

  The thrill at his words races up my spine and tugs on my heart. “I’ve been wearing my sexiest underwear every single day we’ve been here together, hoping you might see it. You like it?”

  “I love it. You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” He shakes his head. “That word’s not enough.”

  I press a finger to his lips. “You make me feel better than beautiful. Even when you’re avoiding me.” I roll my hips, and my eyes float shut as I feel the length of his erection between my legs. “I’ve never felt like this. Never wanted a man the way I want you.” My fingers shake at the buttons of his shirt.

  He takes a fistful of my hair and drags my mouth down to meet his in a kiss that matches my hunger.

  I pull open the end table drawer and retrieve a condom. “I’ve had ten days to stash them everywhere,” I say to his questioning look. “Just in case.”

  “Hell,” he breathes. His eyes skim over me, devouring every inch. “Let me touch you first. We don’t have to—”

  “Two weeks of foreplay might push my limits.” I tear it open before lifting to drag his pants down his hips and rolling the condom down his shaft. “This is what I need right now.”

  Returning to straddle him, I settle my knees on either side of his hips. There isn’t much to these panties, so I have to do little more than pull them to the side before lowering myself onto him.

  He swallows hard but keeps his eyes locked on mine as I slowly take him deep. He’s thick, and my body aches as I stretch around him, but then I move again and it’s so good.

  “Christ,” he groans.

  I use my legs to shift over him, working my way up and down his length and releasing a little gasp every time he’s deep. Cade’s eyes stay locked on mine, and I have to fight to keep mine open, to keep my head when I want to surrender to the pleasure. One hand grips my hip, firm and demanding. The other cups my breast and teases the nipple through the lace, gentle and promising.

  I link my arms behind his neck and lose myself in his murmurs. “You’re gorgeous . . . Just like that . . . Christ, you feel so good.”

  When I think I can’t stand another second, Cade changes the angle of his hips, shifting to the edge of the chair and driving deeper. I cry out, so full of him and pleasure and need that I want him to stop and give me more all at once. He reaches between our bodies to stroke me.

  I squeeze around him, my orgasm coming in a ripple of sensation that seems to stretch from my chest through my legs and roll out like waves, and just when I think every inch of release has been wrung from my body, he finds his own, and the swell of him inside me sets off a new wave of pleasure as I follow him down.

  After, the room seems so bright and so silent that I’m not sure I can hide the emotion filling every inch of me, and I’m afraid if he sees it, he’ll pull away.

  I bury my face in his neck and squeeze my eyes shut.

  “What’s wrong?” he whispers.

  I shake my head, and he pulls away from me until I’m forced to look at him. Can he see it in my eyes? He’s so afraid of hurting me, and I can’t let him know the truth. He’s already hurting me because he’s planning to walk away—not just from LA, but from me and this world he hates, this world that is part of who I am, part of what I want for my life. I’ve handed over my heart, and when he leaves, it will break. I know this, and I know I would suffer fracture after fracture for these moments in his arms.

  “Tell me,” he says.

  “It’s just . . . a lot,” I say. “I’m a little overwhelmed.”

  Cupping my jaw in his palms, he presses his mouth to mine and kisses me with long, greedy stroke
s of his tongue. “Me too,” he whispers against my mouth. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like this.”

  He takes me to the bed, and I use my hands and body to say all the things I’m afraid to say with words.

  Chapter 16

  Cade

  I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing, and it takes me a minute to orient myself. Where I am? There’s a pillow under my head, a fan humming above me, sheets tangled around my legs, and Janelle—naked in my arms.

  Right. Heaven. I’m in heaven.

  I carefully extricate myself and climb out of bed to grab my cell. This time of night, it can’t be good. When I see the caller ID and see Gormong’s name, I know it’s not.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Jo O’Connor. She disappeared from a party at Courtney’s tonight. I can’t talk long, but I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Right.” Fuck. Shit. I knew having all those people at that party was trouble waiting to happen, and now my gut’s crawling into my throat and a thousand what-ifs are invading my brain. What if Janelle had gone without me? What if it had been her? “Thanks for calling.”

  “Janelle’s accounted for?”

  I know she’s behind me, but I turn anyway, needing to reassure myself that she’s here and safe. She’s sitting up, the sheet gripped in her fist between her breasts. The fear in her eyes tightens something in my chest. “She’s with me.”

  “Keep her close,” Gormong says. “Our IT guys are close to a break. If you can just keep her safe for a few more days . . .”

  “Call when you know more,” I say. With every second I’m on the phone, the panic on Janelle’s face rises. “I’ll tell Janelle.”

  I end the call, but she’s already out of bed and pulling on a robe. “Courtney or Jo?” She shivers and rubs her arms.

  “Jo,” I say softly. “She disappeared from the party.”

  She blinks and swallows hard. “So while we were . . .?” She waves a hand and shivers again. “She was . . .? How did no one see him? How did no one see her leave? How did he even get in?”