Entangled (A Tryst Novel)

by Alex Rosa

  I heave in my own desperate pull of oxygen. It really is nice to be done with fighting my feelings for him, and keeping them a secret from my brother. Those months before of being unsure how to feel had been torture, and now describing it as relief would be an understatement.

  His lips crook upward, and I go in for another kiss. I willingly accept his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His tongue expertly explores my mouth, and his taste is sinfully sweet when you mix it with tequila.

  He pulls away, his lips still twisted wryly as he drags the tip of his perfectly sloped nose down mine. “I think we should call a cab and get out of here.”

  I hum my approval while taking a secretive breath, devouring Blake’s clean, musky scent. “A cab where? Home?”

  My skin tingles as the word home emerges from my mouth. The idea of having a home with Blake is a wonderfully fantastical one, and the idea of merging my haphazard loft bedroom that my brother Josh lets me live in with Blake’s bedroom downstairs causes another moment of elated nerves to spark. Though, I don’t know how Josh will feel about that since he’s allowing me live rent-free and isn’t necessarily happy his best friend is sleeping with his little sister after being specifically told not to all those months ago when I moved in.

  Baby steps . . .

  “Home?” he scoffs. “Where your brother is dutifully waiting for us like an overprotective father? I don’t think so.”

  I giggle, smoothing out the shoulders of Blake’s dress shirt, loving the feeling of his taut body under my fingertips. “My brother can be a bit insane.”

  “I thought he accepted that we’re together now.”

  “Just give it time. You have a bit to prove, don’t you think?”

  Blake’s shoulders slump, but his wicked grin of nonchalance remains. “You’re right, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to stop me from having you.”

  I tilt my head adoringly to look at him. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means I’ve got a room someplace where I don’t have to worry about your brother listening in beyond the wall.”

  I roll my eyes this time, even though I’m grinning like an idiot. “You got a hotel room?”

  He shrugs. “Would you prefer I didn’t?” His tone is retaliatory, and I have to admit to myself it’s familiar, and I love it.

  “Leave it to you to already have plans for my body.”

  He licks his lips. “Oh, so you’re saying you didn’t already have plans for mine?”

  I blush crimson, but can’t restrain my outburst of laughter. “Okay, you’re right. Hotel where?”

  “The Four Seasons.”

  My abrupt gasp chokes off by my laughter. “Four Seasons? In Beverly Hills? Blake, you really didn’t have to do that. We could have stayed in any hotel. The Four Seasons is too much!”

  “Skyler, please let me spoil you.” He grabs for my face, and his hands feel wonderfully cool against my flushed skin. “I know you hate that I’m bringing it up, but soon I won’t be home often, and there will be times I’ll have to be out of town. What are we going to do then? I just want this moment. Hell, I want this night for us to enjoy us. It’ll be the first of a handful of nights we might have before I start filming.”

  My gut plummets at the thought. I’ve only had him for such a short period of time. I’m just getting used to this.

  He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. “As much as I love your pout, I’ll have none of that. I don’t want to dwell on it. The point of this is, let me do whatever the hell I want when it comes to spoiling you, got it?”

  I wrinkle my brows and he lets out a chortle. “I think you’re the first girl in the city of Los Angeles to argue with being spoiled.”

  “I can’t imagine not having you around while you’re doing who-knows-what when I only just barely got to have you.”

  Blake’s face turns endearingly stern. “Babe, stop it. Let’s live in the moment. For now, I can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight. Oh, and I was wondering one other thing . . .”

  Leaning into his touch, I try not to think about Blake’s growing career. I lift my head up to signal him to continue.

  “Come with me tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean? Where?”

  “I have my last photo shoot tomorrow, and I think it’d be cool if you came with me to see what work is like for me. I want you to see what it’s like on a photo shoot. Why not, right? And when filming starts, I want you on set.”

  I don’t know why, but my throat goes dry. Will there be pretty women there? Will I have to watch them drape themselves all over my boyfriend? I’m just getting used to dating him, and the idea of having to share him with others is disconcerting, but the moment my brow furrows I watch his face fall in disappointment, and a new feeling I have yet to feel blooms in my gut. The idea of disappointing Blake is a feeling I never want to experience and decide to avoid it at all costs. I want him to know I support him; though I may dread the things it may entail, I can’t have him thinking otherwise.

  I grin as honestly as I can. “Of course. I’d love to.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks,. “It was just an idea. You may be smarter than me, but I know you and that look.”

  A wry smile peeks through my lips. “I’m not smarter than you!”

  He rolls his eyes. “I won’t even attempt that argument.”

  An idea sparks anew, instigated by his mocking surrender, and I let the corner of my mouth curve upward as I lean in closer to lay my lips upon his again. Blake wastes no time letting his mouth command mine, coaxing them open, and I know we’re on the verge of making a scene, but he tastes divine.

  I pull away to catch my breath and notice we have matching grins. I know where I’d like to go, and it isn’t in public, but rather enjoying his company in a far more private setting. Somewhere we can giggle and be idiots together, where I get to let his fingertips gingerly explore the surfaces of my body, all the while being ourselves away from prying eyes.

  I grab for his hand and make swift strides to our table. I grab my purse, and Blake manages to snag his jacket as we move without stopping. He slaps a twenty onto the table before we make our way out the door. Blake follows without a peep, but the lifted corner of his mouth tells me he’s curious.

  When we hit the curb, the crisp night air stings my flushed skin. I swivel around on my heels while taking a sharp intake of the cool air. Surprising me, the gust down my throat seems to only fan the fire growing low in my abdomen as I watch Blake make effortlessly confident strides to stand next to me with his hand tightly clasping mine.

  I chew my lip, feeling the liquid courage evaporating quickly from my veins, but I move forward as I tug him toward me. “I think it’s about time for that cab.”

  “Oh, really?” His grin is back in full Technicolor, as if he’s proud of my bold intent. I close my eyes and kiss him, hoping it’s answer enough to cover up my rising nerves that I don’t understand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

  His tongue stealthily dips into my mouth, tasting warm and sweet, as if tempting my soul.

  I pull away as I drag my tongue over his bottom lip, my breath soft and shallow. I’m tempted to keep my eyes closed just to be able to savor him a fraction of a second longer, but I refrain. I try for sexy when peering up at his electric-green eyes, and though it feels off, I continue on anyway. I want to be what he so badly deserves, and I take one deep breath before giving it a try. “I can’t wait to learn more about your job, but I think you’ll find mine far more interesting . . . How far is the hotel?”

  Blake’s brows knit together in intrigued confusion, and I worry his sly smirk is to hold himself back from laughing at me. I could cringe if that’s true. I hold my breath this time in anxious anticipation of my haphazard punch line.

  He watches me carefully, as if observing a cornered animal, possibly
a sexually frustrated one.

  “Fifteen minutes, maybe. Why? What do you mean?”

  I chew my lip, exhilarated by the games we play, but still terrified at this novice attempt, but I like how Blake is still willing to play along, even if it’s more for his own amusement.

  “My job . . . or my future job. Ya know . . . we could play doctor?”

  When the words leave my lips, I desperately wish for the earth to swallow me whole right beneath my feet. I want to be sexy. Dammit, I do, but the statement comes out like the words of a prepubescent teen, even though my raspy voice may reveal the unfurling desire occurring in my core. My sexiness rating feels like it’s plummeting, no longer driven by the wine or tequila, but instead by my own inexperience. I don’t even know if I should be proud of trying.

  His eyes bore into mine, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

  A sheepish smile squeezes through my reflexive pout at the realization that he might be on the verge of laughing at me, and I want to pretend I didn’t attempt the whole doctor line.

  I try to save myself from my lack of seduction skills before he can make fun of me outright. I can’t tell what Blake might see in the awkward girl who needs booze in order to seduce. That being me.

  With him visibly analyzing me, probably crafting a joke, I lick my lips, changing tack before he can speak. “I’m so glad you finally quit that nasty habit of smoking.”

  Shocking me, Blake’s right arm wraps tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against him in such a way that I can feel all of his tall, lean body against mine, and I lose my breath. The movement forces my head to tilt back to get a better look at his handsome face, while his other hand lifts toward the sky to hail a cab.

  His wolfish grin appears with his face inches from mine, and it becomes obvious that my encounter with embarrassment only moments ago was entirely ridiculous.

  His breath is humid against my mouth as he speaks, sending delightful tremors through my body as he says, “You’re my nasty habit now.”

  He presses his lips against mine in time with a yellow cab coming to stop at the curb.

  “And yes, we can definitely go play doctor,” he adds with a gloating smirk before letting me go.

  Will he always be better at this than me?

  Chapter 3

  Skyler

  Blake chose to drive my car to his photo shoot. I’m in a blissful state in the passenger seat, dangling my hand outside the window, enjoying the midday sunshine. I feel happy, and wonderfully sore.

  As if on cue, my left hand is grabbed and then entwined around Blake’s as he drives. He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my fingers.

  “Aren’t you charming?” I say, still absorbing the sunshine from the open window.

  He nibbles at my fingers as a rebuttal to my remark. “I just know I’d rather go back to our hotel room.”

  “Not home?” I ask, finding that a part of me misses Blake’s bed more than my own. His sheets smell of him, and when they’re matched with his embrace on a chilly fall evening, it’s the most perfect place amid the chaos of exams, assignments and—

  “—you mean home to where you brother lurks?”

  I smirk, finally turning to look at him. “He’s busy with Vanessa now, maybe it won’t be like that all the time.”

  He sighs. “I hope so.”

  I know that changing the subject is best. Lately the topic of my brother has been weighing heavy on him, and I wonder if having Josh as his agent now makes for more trouble than it’s worth.

  “So, what am I to expect at this photo shoot?” I ask.

  He raises a brow at my tone. “You think this is all child’s play, huh?”

  “You’re pretty, and they take pictures of you. Of course it is.”

  He grins wolfishly. “Sometimes being pretty pays the bills.” His reflexive, comical pout has my insides turning to goo.

  I roll my eyes. “What am I supposed to do with myself when I get there? I’m worried I’ll get in the way.”

  “It’ll be fine.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “There are lots of people lurking around shoots. You’ll blend right in. No one will care. I already told Gio I’d be bringing you.”

  “So, this is the last shoot you have before . . .” I can’t even get the words out; my body refuses the topic.

  “. . . Skyler, I’ll be in New York for one week for a promotional run, but I’ll be in LA most of the time for filming.”

  He explained this all to me this morning. He has been slowly trickling information to me. Before, he said he wasn’t going anywhere for a while, then all of a sudden he’s leaving for a week in New York City. What’s next? Filming there too?

  I take in a deep breath, knowing it’s vital for me to take this one step at a time.

  “I’m fine. Like I told you before, maybe it’s all a good thing. I have midterms anyway.” This is in fact true. It might give me some time to focus on school. I turn my whole body toward his while he drives, leaning over the center console to place a kiss on his cheek. “I want to see you work. I can’t wait to see what a movie set looks like, too.”

  His singular dimple reveals itself with his trademark smirk, and I know he’s delighted by my words. Which makes me so happy.

  I brush a rogue piece of dark hair away from his forehead, finding that being in a relationship with Blake has come to me like riding a bike. I feel like I’ve known Blake far longer than mere months.

  I study his face a moment, wondering what “supermodel Blake” doesn’t have that “movie star Blake” might. He’s more dynamic than the two-dimensional glossy photos that have been taken of him, and I’m excited to see how his undeniable charisma will break through a platform like acting. I think back on this morning as we flipped through the pages of his script, still naked, tangled in the white sheets in the hotel room at the Four Seasons, running through lines. I found the whole thing wonderfully surreal, and wondered when my life took such a strange turn.

  The film has everything Hollywood wants out of a movie. I had to explain to Blake that the screenplay originated from a book, and he was giddy to find that out, which I found adorably hilarious. I’ve secretly planned to buy him the book to hide in his suitcase when he leaves to help him with research. The story line offers everything from action, to suspense, to dynamic themes . . . and even an epic romance.

  My gut plummets at the thought. This has not been a topic Blake and I have touched, but it is in fact the elephant in the room. For now, we take the less-than-fun parts of our relationship one step at a time. Some might call it “avoiding,” but I like to call it “strategic placement of frustrations.”

  “I love you,” Blake says, and I let a smile spread across my face.

  “I love you, too.”

  I don’t know what I expected, but I don’t think it’s the modern, blocklike structure we stop at. When we park in front of the daunting rectangular building my insides coil tight with nerves, since I have no idea what I’m walking into. The mostly cement building teeters on intimidating, but my eyes are drawn to the second floor, where there are large expansive windows, noting that the first floor has barely any.

  “Is this an apartment?” I ask as we exit the car. My steps are slow as I approach the looming home that looks like it’d be the perfect place to survive a zombie apocalypse nestled among the elite suburbs of Los Angeles.

  “Uh, no. It’s Gio’s house. It’s his studio, but he also lives here. I mean, normally we go on location for stuff, but this is more of a low-key, contemporary sort of ad, I think. A lot of black-and-whites.”

  I shrug, unsure what those details might mean to me. I look around the neighborhood, noticing the bustling, swanky restaurants and bars are only blocks away.

  “Oh.”

  Blake walks right through the front door without knocking, and I’m stunned by the eruption of sound from
within. It sounds like a party. I link my arm with Blake’s tightly, bringing him close, feeling like a lost girl, tempted to hide behind him.

  Stepping into his world feels like it gives him such an unfair advantage. Him joining me on the UCLA campus is nothing in comparison to walking into this.

  When we enter the large space I’m floored by the fact that what I thought was two separate floors from the outside is actually only one giant studio room. In the back there is a large white sheet covering a portion of the wall, surrounded by all sorts of light fixtures lying in wait, and it gives me the ability to put the pieces of the scene together.

  There are at least twenty people inside. Some of whom are running around manic, whereas others are exchanging conversation, but as I listen more closely I notice that some are speaking in English, and others in a jibber-jabber of something foreign. Most people actually seem to be arguing, while others drink from cans of Red Bull, laughing at what their faces tell me is just another day in the neighborhood.

  “Non mi importa un cavolo!—get Marielle Acosta here NOW!”

  The deep voice booms over the crowd, and of the bits of foreign language I know I’m able to grasp that it’s Italian, and that it’s profanity. My eyes, seeking some sense of purpose, search for the voice, but soon Blake is slithering out of my grasp. No!

  “Babe, I gotta go. Will you be all right here?”

  Of course not.

  I look around and hate that people are staring, and fear looking like a needy girlfriend, so I force a smile. “Sure. Of course. Go work. I’ll be fine.”

  My smile shifts into a grimace when his back is to me. His strides tell me he knows exactly what he’s doing. I look around, realizing I have no idea what I’m doing, and I forget about the booming voice and try to find a corner to hide in.

  “Quella ragazza, who is she?”

  My ears perk up, but I know they can’t be talking about me, or if they are, it can’t be good.