His assertiveness was such a turn on, though. Or maybe it was more of a surety. A confidence that whatever Chance did, both he and Anda would thoroughly enjoy it. His surety made her believe it, too.
Made her willing to let him do things differently than the lackluster and infrequent lovers in her past.
Made her willing to take a chance on him.
So yes, she liked the sharp swat he gave to her ass before they mounted the horses. The way it spread warmth straight through to her belly. Anda had liked when he’d taken away her cone to lick ice cream directly from her lips. She adored being carried by him. And now, this biting?
Well, he could bite her anywhere, anytime.
***
Anda rocked her hips against him. That was all it took to turn Chance’s dick as hard as titanium. She responded to everything he dished out.
The other women on the show didn’t.
Some were so busy making sure their pose stayed perfect for the camera, that it kept their stomachs sucked in and tits up, that they were as frozen as mannequins. A few, who he’d cut fast out of pity, had been freaked out by anything physical in front of the cameras.
The last thing Chance needed on his audition reel was film of a beautiful woman arching away from him as she realized her parents and her pastor would end up seeing their kiss. No, the last thing he needed was knowing he’d made a woman uncomfortable at all.
Jackie, his second round cut, had even pulled her crucifix necklace out from under her shirt. That’d been equal parts hilarious and sad and confusing. Did she think an anti-vampire charm was needed to repel him? They were all here voluntarily, but as soon as he caught even a hint of unease, Chance backed the hell off.
The producers weren’t happy about how fast he was to reverse course. But they only cared about ratings, shock value, cliffhangers. Chance cared about being able to live with himself, his choices, his actions, for the rest of his life.
Anda responded to his kisses with her whole body. With little moans that made him even hotter. She responded like there were no cameras eight feet away.
Which was exactly how he felt when they kissed. Like everything faded to black except her body, her touch, her voice. That was new. Surprising. Bordering on mind-blowing. Nobody expected to experience something new with sex at his age.
God, he craved her. Chance’s hand knotted around her shirt. He wanted to rip it off. Roll her back, off the blanket so her bare skin lay on the flowers and grass and lick Anda until her moans echoed off the mountain peaks ringing the lake.
He needed to get her into that Dream Suite tomorrow night. Alone. Without cameras.
Easing off the kiss, Chance said, “I played along with whatever the producers asked. But I never promised anyone that I’d commit to a relationship at the end of this show. Sure as hell didn’t plan to. I’m not a long-term kind of guy. But…well…plans change.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you saying, Chance?”
“That I’m crazy about you, Anda. That sometimes, if you’re lucky, life hands you what you need instead of what you think you need. As nuts as it sounds, I’m wondering if my accident happened so that I could end up here. With you.”
With soft, careful tenderness, Anda curved her palm over the shoulder that had separated when his stunt went so wrong and slammed him into a cliff face. “That’s sweet, in a twisted way. I don’t want to be the cause of your pain.”
He couldn’t think of anyone else in his life who’d be so thoughtful. Tender. Anda was one of a kind.
“You’re not. You’re healing me. Healing parts I didn’t know were broken.” Chance winced, shook his head. “That sounds corny as fuck. Sorry. I don’t have a ton of experience trying to be romantic. Charming and sexy, I’ve got that down to a science. Auto-pilot, really. Opening up my heart’s a lot trickier.”
“If it wasn’t hard, it wouldn’t matter so much. You know what’s hard for me?”
A nudge of his pelvis pushed Anda onto her back. Chance let his weight drop onto her belly. Then he rolled his hips back and forth against her. “Yeah. Pretty sure you feel it, too.”
“Undeniably.” Her laughter burbled, quick and bright as the overhead sun. “I’m serious, though. Thank you for telling me how you feel. But it makes it so much harder to think of what could happen—or not—in the Dream Suite.”
“Only good things, Sweetness.”
“What we have is so much stronger than a hot hookup. I don’t want to take it to the next level, physically, unless you choose me to stay. Unless you want me to be the sole woman here with you when the show ends.”
“You don’t want an invite to the Dream Suite?”
“I’ll say yes to the invitation. I’m just asking, no, begging you not to ask for sex unless you know for certain I’m the one you want.”
He’d tell her the truth. Right now. And then brace for the blowback from the producers and the host the minute they watched the dailies. “I’m not handing out the other two invites to the Dream Suite. You’re it, Anda. For the suite—and for me.”
The widest smile he’d ever seen stretched across her face. “Prove it.”
Huh. Thought he had done that, by cutting out two other finalists. “How?”
Anda heaved and flipped him back over. Then she sat up, still straddling him. Her hair was a tousled mess, a.k.a. sexy as fuck. Chance imagined it’d look like that after their first session in bed. “Tell me a secret.”
His gaze shot sideways to the segment producer, the cameraman, the lighting guy and the sound operator. “You…and all of America.”
“Well, yes. So, you know, I wouldn’t reveal the PIN to your bank account. But I want you to tell me something deeper than you’ve revealed to anyone else on this show. Something that’s hard to admit. Something that you think just might feel better if you tell me.”
Man, she was putting him through his paces. It was a fair request, though. Chance wriggled out from under her to buy some thinking time. There were plenty of private things he could blurt out. But how could Anda help make any of them better?
This was exactly what he didn’t know. Not bothering with relationships left him hazy on their perks.
Oh.
Hell.
He’d stumbled onto a realization. The whole lack of relationships thing extended way beyond girlfriends. His sister and his niece were other relationships he’d love to do better with…somehow…
Bending his left knee, Chance wrapped his arms around it, holding his wrist. “My sister’s husband died suddenly in a car crash. I didn’t know how to help her. What to do for her. Then I had my accident. That knocked out even trying to help. I feel like shit about it.”
“Are you two close?”
“Not really. We were, growing up. Then Chelsea went off to college. She was busy. I was too cool a teenager to stay in touch with my big sis. By the time my career had me globe-trotting, there’d been dead air between us for years.”
“That’s a shame.” Anda didn’t sound judgmental, only sympathetic.
“I’ve been trying to connect more with her daughter. Brielle’s a hoot. We FaceTime, and I send her presents. It’s not much, though.”
“It’s a start. An effort. I’m sure they both appreciate it.”
She’d offered him a ladder out of the guilt-pit he’d been wallowing in. As much as he appreciated the gesture, Chance wasn’t sure he deserved it. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. Chelsea’s been treading water for six months. Barely coping with David’s death. I want to do…more. But I don’t know where to start.”
“Where does she live?”
Chance tipped back his head, squinting against the ultra-bright, high-altitude sun. And more than a little, against the harsh truth. “About twenty-minutes away from you.”
“In L.A.?” Anda punched him lightly on the biceps. “No excuses, DiMarco. As soon as we get our phones back once this show wraps, you’re setting up a weekly dinner with her. Or brunch. Or even elevenses, if you’re a
fan of Lord of the Rings. Anything goes, as long as it’s weekly.”
He let his head roll until that same squint was now aimed at Anda. “That’s one hell of a commitment.”
“Don’t you do the same thing on a shoot? Commit, months in advance, to showing up for costume fittings and rehearsals?”
“Yeah.” Crap. She was going to force him say it. His deep, dark fear. That he’d waited too long to glue them back together. “I’m not worried about committing to it. I’m worried about letting Chelsea down. What if I do all this, and she doesn’t want me around?”
“What happened to ‘I can do charming on auto pilot?’”
Oh, hell no. After a hard, fast shake of the head, Chance said, “That’s a specific type of charming. The ‘let’s make this a two-condom night’ type. I can’t use that on my sister.”
“True. But I think you’re selling yourself short. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you’d only sold me on you as a sex object.” Anda patted the center of his chest. “You’ve got depths, Chance. Interesting ones. I promise.”
“Really?” His whole worth was wrapped up in his body, his muscles, his agility and quickness. None of which would matter to Chelsea. It was nice…good…hell, a huge relief, to know that Anda saw more in him. “Thanks. That actually helps. As you promised.”
“You’re welcome. Now be sure you don’t forget your promise to me.”
No chance of that happening. Chance would be counting the hours until he could ditch the remaining five women, the crew, the millions of viewers, and get Anda all to himself.
CHAPTER 3
Why weren’t they kissing yet? Anda stood in front of the enormous stone fireplace that bisected the dining and living room area of the Dream Suite. Even in the summer, the nights got chilly at ten-thousand feet. The crackling fire felt good, and smelled even better. Bright and citrusy. Like they’d brought in the orange tree logs people burned in Southern California.
But she didn’t want to be warm.
She wanted to be hot. Burning. Melting.
Underneath Chance.
They’d spent all of dinner playing nice for the cameras. Touching at every excuse, as they reached for the bread, the salt, the butter, the water pitcher at the same time. But tangling fingers wasn’t anywhere as good as tangling limbs.
They’d talked about the food. Chance’s interesting/weird/borderline disgusting food experiences around the world on movie shoots. They’d talked about what this ski-in resort must be like in winter.
Anda had never skied because she’d spent every spare hour at her parents boutique growing up. Learning, soaking it all in. And once she was old enough to officially work there? Well, there was no such thing as a spare hour at that point.
The one thing they hadn’t talked about? The Dream Suite.
Until, exactly as she’d seen on so many previous seasons of this show, Chance pushed a heart-shaped red envelope across the table. Using the key inside of it was completely up to her. Which was the same language on the third NDA she’d signed that afternoon. It stipulated the producers did not pressure her into accepting the key. It also stipulated that the producers were in no way responsible for what happened if she did use it.
She’d kicked off her hot-pink stilettos. Handed them to Chance. “Try to keep up,” Anda murmured, before grabbing the key and bolting for the elevator.
Of course, he’d caught up with her. In another sultry, dreamy move he hoisted her over his good shoulder. Spent the whole elevator ride running his hands up and down her legs beneath the white maxi-dress she wore, while she pulled his shirt out of his pants. When the doors opened, there was another camera crew waiting to capture their big entrance into the Dream Suite.
And then? He’d set her on her feet next to the fireplace and disappeared into the bedroom.
Five whole minutes ago.
Was he having second thoughts?
No. No way. Not with Chance giving her the one and only Dream Suite invitation. Was he sick from dinner? With both the waiter and the camera crew cracking up, Anda and Chance had both eaten the Rocky Mountain Oysters. Really, she could eat anything if it was fried and dipped in ranch dressing.
At first ticked off but now worried, Anda padded to the bedroom door. Looked down at the spray of deep pink flowers printed across her skirt, and then crumpled it in her fist. No backing down. No more being careful, right?
She knocked once. “Chance? Are you okay?”
The door flew open. He held a black box, a little bigger than a cell phone, with green lights blinking on the display. Chance put a finger to his lips. Then he stalked past her straight to the fluffy white rug in front of the fireplace. The arm with the machinery was extended.
He waved it across the deep couch, the matching leather ottomans, and the round coffee table. Only after doing the same thing in the dining room and kitchen area did he turn to her with a big smile. “We’re clear.”
“Clear of what?”
“I swept the room for hidden recording devices. Cameras and sound.”
Anda heard the words, but had trouble processing that this was her life. Her boyfriend wielding spy equipment as deftly as a knight would a sword? “You…what?”
“I wasn’t going to take a chance with your privacy. Legally, the show can’t air us having sex. But Hollywood is full of people who’ll cash in on celebrities without worrying about little things like rules. Or morals.”
“You were protecting me.”
Chance nodded hard, making that rakish curl tumble down his forehead. “Damn straight.”
“That’s the sexiest and sweetest thing a man’s ever done for me.” Anda stepped up onto the fireplace ledge, and launched herself from there onto Chance. She wrapped her legs around his hips. Her arms around his neck. And her tongue around his.
His still-recovering leg bobbled under her onslaught, but only for a second. Then Chance swung her around in a slow circle while he kissed the living daylights out of her. His hands squeezed her ass. The rhythm of it had her pushing back and forth with each flex of his fingers.
Meanwhile, his mouth devoured hers. Anda lost track of when her tongue was in his mouth and vice versa. All she knew was that it was hot and wet and stroking with the faint smoke of their dessert whiskey. And with each stroke, goosebumps arose on a new part of her body. Arms. Neck. Calves. Thighs. Belly. Every inch of her skin felt inflamed and super-sensitive. As if a mere stray curl of smoke from the fireplace could trigger an orgasm.
She was so ready to be with Chance.
“Thank you for looking out for me. For us.”
“Of course. I…” Chance closed his eyes. Shook his head. Then he reopened those startlingly light green eyes and quirked a half smile. “I want to take care of you, Anda. I want to protect you and make sure you’re happy. Make you smile. Make you laugh.”
Oh. My. God. Good thing she wasn’t standing, because her legs would’ve gone out from under her at that declaration. This big man, with his brute strength that could turn a motorcycle in mid-air, was turning out to be so thoughtful and open. Even when he seemed to be surprising himself with it.
But Anda decided to save the reciprocity for later. If she told Chance how she felt now, they’d probably end up in a puddle of googly eyes and sweet nothings on the floor.
Definitely time for that later.
Right now, Anda wanted action.
With a throaty purr, she asked, “Is that all you want to do to me?”
“Not even close.” They were on the move now, as he carried her past the dining room table and its eight formal chairs. Chance kicked the bedroom door shut behind them. “I want to make you moan. Sigh. Squirm. Scream my name so loudly that the windows rattle.”
“That’s a good start.”
“And that’s only the start. We’ve got all night. Almost.”
Uh oh. Had she read him all wrong? Had the producers convinced him to line up another contestant for the second half of the night? With dread knottin
g her belly, Anda asked, “Why ‘almost?’”
“Because I don’t want the cameras to catch you leaving. They want some big, messy-haired Walk of Shame footage. I don’t want you to be portrayed like that. Nobody else is getting an invite to this Dream Suite. It’s special. Just for us. I won’t let them turn it into just a hookup. Not when I’ve found the woman of my dreams.”
Anda couldn’t believe it. Exactly the opposite of what she’d dreaded. This man was…well, unlike any other. Chance was yet again putting her first, making her well-being the priority over his extremely large paycheck. He was too good to believe. Almost.
Still, as romantic and heart-stopping as it was, she’d signed a contract. And didn’t doubt that the production company wouldn’t hesitate to threaten her, if not actually sue her. “Wouldn’t it be breaking the rules for me to sneak out before the cameramen return?”
“Technically, no.” Then he flashed that oversized grin that made Anda think his talents were wasted as a stunt double. Chance was more than handsome enough to be a leading man. “It isn’t written down anywhere in those thirty-seven pages of rules and NDAs. Will they be pissed? Yeah, but I can take the heat. You’re worth it.” He walked right past the oversized bed into a marbled bathroom.
The wall above the bathtub was all windows. In the moonlight, Anda could see the dark shadows of the peaks and the pine trees along the valley floor. Chance put her down. Pushed a panel in the wall that started filling the gigantic jacuzzi tub, and then another button that started the fireplace at one end of it.
“We’re taking a bubble bath?”
“A symbolic one, if that’s okay with you. Thought you could help me wash off the emotional residue of all those other women from the show.”
Anda tossed back her head and laughed. Then she laughed some more. The exact same thought had run through her mind more than once over the past six weeks.
It’d been okay, well, tolerable sharing Chance on the early group dates. But as the intimacy levels ratcheted higher with each solo date, she’d struggled with the realization that every inch of his skin that she touched, some other woman had been touching sometimes as little as an hour before.
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 14
