My feet finally touch the cool floor tiles of the bathroom. I close the door and flip on the switch. A quick glance at my reflection confirms what this woman has done to me. Underneath the fan of hair over my forehead are eyes that actually have life in them again. And the shit-eating grin on my face tells me I’m happy, so much so that I can’t even control my own facial muscles.
It’s not because of the sex; although, let’s be real, no living, breathing man would have any other look on his face after being inside of Lila – her pussy, her ass, her mouth. Christ, it feels like she was made for me, like we were meant to meet here. That has to be why I feel this way. It’s not love, it can’t be. Not that I’m an expert, but it sure feels like something big, something I’m not willing to give up on, something worth the work.
I grab a towel and clean myself up. My cock is spent, but I know the second he rubs himself against the smooth cheeks of her ass, he’ll be standing at attention, ready for his next round. I run another hand towel under the warm water for Lila and flick off the light before opening the door.
I squint as I step back into the hallway. My stomach drops as I catch a glimpse of the faint stream of light peeking into the living room through the curtains. A dim glow from a lamp illuminates the space. Weird. I don’t remember turning anything on when we crashed around the place in search of the bedroom. I twist my head around, but all of the other rooms are dark. The sexcapades have left my brain a little on the soggy side. I shake my head and turn back to the bedroom, padding across the marble floor.
A tiny shiver goes through me, even though the temperature in the villa is close to seventy-five. Lila must have drifted off to sleep, and I’ll be damned if I wake her. I need to keep her close for as long as I can, and then I have to figure out how to keep her close for the rest of our lives. Later.
I walk into the room, towel in hand, and glance at the bed.
Empty?
My chest clenches. Fuck. She’s gone? I drop the towel and run out into the hallway again. “Lila? Lila!”
Her dress is still on the floor, where I’d flung it after pulling it off her the night before. It’s sitting right on top of her sandals a few feet from the door. The door…
I step closer. It’s cracked open. I’d forgotten to put the chain on last night in my haste to be balls-deep inside of Lila. I swing open the door and peer out into the deserted area. Nothing but palm trees and sand. I slam it closed and collapse against it, my head in my hands.
She’s fucking gone. And I never got to tell her how I feel. Always pushing things off, always waiting for another time, a better time. I did the same thing with my brother, not wanting to take time to really listen to his problems because I was so wrapped up in my own shit. I could have saved him, but I was too selfish.
The story of my life.
I slam my fists on the door and sink to the floor.
Glass shatters somewhere in the back of the villa, and I leap to my feet. I grab my shorts and pull them on. “What the hell?” Maybe a window had been left open. There are little glass decorations everywhere in this villa; one of them could have easily blown over if the ocean breeze was strong enough. Or an animal might have crawled into one of the low windows. My heart, which is damn near broken right now, thumps with each step. It’s as if my body knows something my mind hasn’t yet registered.
Another crash follows and I clench my fists, inching closer to the back bedroom. This time I flick on a light, hoping to confirm one of my theories.
I’m wrong. So dead wrong it makes my stomach roll.
Lila’s eyes are wide with terror as they meet mine, but it’s the hunting knife at her throat that commands my focus. Thick, serrated metal blade, positioned right over her jugular…that’s where my eyes are glued. And my mind is frantic, trying to figure out how the fuck this is going to work out in our favor.
The man standing behind her is dressed head to toe in black, down to the military boots on his feet. His gaze on me is steady, his clear blue eyes reflecting pure malice. With his free hand, he tugs at Lila’s long hair. “Tell me, Tatum, did you really think I’d be gone forever? You must have known I’d be back to finish what we started, except you clearly got lonely. That pussy is mine, Tatum! Do you hear me? Mine!”
There is way too much information being spewed, and all I see is flashing metal. My spine stiffens, and out of the corner of my eyes, I take stock of any and all weapons I can use to get this motherfucker away from Lila.
The psycho bastard moves the knife away from Lila’s neck and points it at me. “Don’t kid yourself. Tatum belongs to me, and I’m gonna punish you for every second you spent fucking my pussy.”
I drag my eyes away from the knife and meet the deranged ones of this lunatic. “Who the fuck is Tatum?”
He lets out a chuckle. “Oh, that’s rich. You didn’t even know who you were fucking, did you?” He tightens his grip around Lila’s mouth. “Well played, sweetheart. Maybe you really are worthy of that Oscar. You were smart not to tell him the truth. You know how clingy they can get when they find out who you really are. Remember Jake Masters? He never listened, never took me seriously. It was a shame, really. Fatal car accident.” He shakes his head. “Tsk tsk.” A sinister smile stretches his lips and he points to me again. “Your accident will be a little more painful, since I had to watch you fuck my girl every which way.” He rubs his temples, and if I didn’t catch it before, I can see the crazy blazing in his eyes. “I can’t erase those images from my mind, Tatum. The only way I can get past seeing you two together is to erase surfer boy from existence.”
I’m hearing a lot and processing very little of it as I plot ways to get that fucking knife out of his hand. My skin prickles as she struggles against him, still naked, while I’m armed with a fucking flip flop. My mouth feels as if it’s been stuffed with cotton and my limbs are stiff as if I’ve just finished a grueling surfing competition. Lila’s…Tatum’s…whimpers slice through my heart. Our eyes connect, panic evident in her tear-filled ones.
I draw in a deep breath and clench my fists. “Listen, just let her go. If it’s me you really want, come and get me, you sick fuck!” Adrenaline courses through me as my legs finally remember how to function. I leap across the bed and lunge for the knife. I hurl my body at them, and we all fly backward, crashing into the wall. My fingers close around his wrist and dig into his skin with every ounce of force I can muster, but he never loosens his grip on that damn handle.
Sicko loosens his hold on Tatum, and she rolls away from us, tearing out of the bedroom. I swing at him with my free hand, my fist exploding against his jaw, once, twice, three times. Motherfucker actually smiles at me, a thin stream of blood drizzling from the side of his mouth. The knife clatters to the floor, and I kick it away. The crack of his fist explodes against my nose. It burns like a bitch, but it doesn’t stop me. I pound my fist into his midsection and fist his hair, slamming his face against the marble floor. My pulse throbs against my neck and I struggle to my feet in search of the knife. Tatum runs back in with a rolling pin, and before I can stop her, she swings it at his head. One crack and he’s down for the count, blood pooling around his face. She swings it again at the other side of his skull, her breaths coming in short gasps. “You bastard! I fucking hate you!”
I leap to my feet as she reaches behind her and goes to take another swing. I doubt it would make a difference. His body lies still as a corpse. Probably for good reason. “Stop!” I grab her wrist. “It’s over.”
“H-he could have killed us. That’s why he c-came. I knew he’d be back. I knew it…”
It’s hard to draw in a single breath, my chest is so damn tight. She, whoever the hell she is, just killed a guy. In my fucking villa. The woman who has captivated me, the one I thought I knew, the one I can’t be without. “Who are you? Is your name really Tatum?”
“Yes,” she whispers, swiping at the tears running down her face. “My name is Tatum. Tatum Atwood. I’m a—”
I narrow
my eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you, but I—“
“What, you got off pretending you were on camera or some shit like that? Or no, you were just prepping for a new role, right? Needed a stand-in leading man? Or just a good fuck to finish out your trip?” I rake a hand though my hair and stomp across the room. “When I told you I felt a connection between us, I meant it. I fucking opened up to you, something I never do, because I thought you felt the same way. But you didn’t. You lied to me. You didn’t give a shit about anything I said. You used me, and I’m the asshole who didn’t see it coming.” I slam a fist against the wall. What a fucking idiot I am. Maybe it’s karma biting me in the ass for being such a bastard to all of those women who’d crossed my path in the past. Time for me to reap what I’ve sown for all those years.
Tatum creeps toward me, reaching out to graze my arm. “Please, Evan. Let me explain. I promise, it’s not what you think.” Her voice quivers as her fingers tighten around my bicep, but I refuse to look at her. I can’t, not after I bore my soul to her, thinking that maybe my life could be different, better…I don’t know. Maybe I was just searching for the right person to fill the empty spaces, and the stupid ass I am, fell into her trap.
“That man on the floor…he was part of my Security team. Things started out without any issues, but after a while, he became unstable. He was jealous and violent…just scary. I had him fired, and he started stalking me until I finally got a restraining order against him. Then one night…” The tears spill over once again, her body quaking with sobs. “One night, he broke into my house. He tried to rape me at knifepoint. I tried to escape, and he stabbed me. If my assistant hadn’t stopped by at that moment, he’d have killed me.”
Her body presses into me, the heat of her soft, supple skin blanketing me. My dick is already starting to betray me, despite what we’ve just seen and heard. Motherfucker.
Tatum laces her fingers with mine and with a gentle tug, she urges my body to face hers. It’s hard to avoid those eyes when they’re begging me to look. “He got away, Evan,” she murmurs, twisting her hair with one hand. “He disappeared for months without a trace. I came here because I needed to be free again, just for a little while. Having to constantly look over my shoulder was exhausting and frightening as hell. And I was constantly being stalked by paparazzi about it. I couldn’t relax back in L.A. I was always waiting and panicking. It was no way to live.” She twists around to look at the dead man sprawled on the floor. “I never imagined he’d find me here. This was supposed to be my safe place,” she murmurs.
“You are safe now. He can’t hurt you again.” A sharp pang slices at my heart. With everything she just told me, there wasn’t one word spoken about what happened between us. I was clearly the diversion she needed, but nothing more. Knowing that fucking stings. Badly. The womanizer finally gets hosed. Poetic justice is served, and it tastes like shit. But I’m not a complete asshole. I pull her close and bury my head in her neck, my mind racing with thoughts my mouth can’t seem to form. I’m comforting a woman I don’t know, and staring at a man she just bludgeoned to almost-certain death on my floor. But I needed answers, especially when the cops show up and want details about what the fuck just went down.
Tatum’s cries subside after a few minutes and she pulls away. I reach behind me and grab a bed sheet, wrapping her in it. Her hair is a knotted mess, her tear-stained face red and blotchy, but still beautiful. And dammit, she’s still the one I want to wake up to every morning. Sonofabitch.
I scrub a hand down the front of my face and clear my throat, forcing my eyes away from her. “We should call the police. You’re going to need to tell them your story.”
“Okay,” she whispers, sliding past me. She pads down the hallway and stops to pick up her dress. I try not to stare, but I can see her reflection in one of the mirrors. The sheet falls to the floor, and my cock thickens at the sight of her sinful curves shimmying back into the dress. I have no idea how to navigate this situation. This is exactly why you don’t allow yourself to fall for someone you don’t fucking know.
Tatum reappears and flips her hair over one shoulder. “I’m so sorry for everything, Evan. I’m sorry for not being honest, but I hope you can understand why I needed to keep my identity a secret.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t trust me,” I spat. Shit. Here we go. Now I’m going to play the part of the scorned lover. Fabulous. Can this day get any more fucked up? I hold up a hand. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. We had a fun night, one that I sure as hell won’t ever forget. I’ll call the cops and we can just move on with our lives, okay?”
She bites her lower lip. Fuck, I wish I was the one doing that…
I let out a groan and cover my face with my hands.
“Evan.” I even love the way my name sounds when it tumbles from her mouth. It gives me a fucking chill. I know that sounds pathetic, but whatever. It does.
And there’s still a dead dude bleeding out on my floor. But yeah, let’s focus on the way she says my name.
“What?” My voice is flat, conveying none of the emotions rushing through me. It’s my only shot to keep my shit together.
“I’ll be honest with you. I did just want a chance to be free for once, not to have to worry about what you might think if you knew the truth.” She lets out a sigh and drops her hand from my arm.
Emptiness. It’s all that remains once the connection - or whatever the hell I dreamed up in my head - is broken. My gut clenches, but I can’t seem to force my mouth to push out words, mainly because, deep down, I still hope she’ll say the ones I want to hear.
I lean back against a wall and push back my hair. “I don’t care about any of that crap, Tatum. It doesn’t impress me. You act. I surf. Period. Knowing your real name wouldn’t have changed my feelings. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with assholes like him.” I let out a deep breath. “I get it, though. You wanted some privacy.”
“Yeah.” She twists a strand of her hair. “I thought I did, but I didn’t expect…” A deep pink flush colors her cheeks. “I didn’t expect to feel this way about you, and it scares the hell out of me. I thought once you found out the truth, you’d…leave?” Her voice rises slightly in question, her eyes trained on me..
“Even after everything I told you?” I reach for her hand, bringing it to my lips. “I don’t play games, Tatum. I meant what I said. All of it. I don’t care about how much money you make or who you know or what you can do for me. It’s you I want. The real you; the one I spent the night with, the one I want to spend the rest of my nights with. I’ve been around enough to know that you’re it for me. It may sound ridiculous, it may be too fast, but fuck it. I’ll say it because I mean it. And if that scares you, I’ll wait around until you feel comfortable hearing it. You’re worth it, Tatum.” I pull her into my chest. “Does that answer your question?”
She nods, her sweet-smelling head pressed against me. “Yes,” she whispers. “It does.”
“So…”
“So…” Tatum tilts her head upward and gazes at me from under those long dark eyelashes. That look makes me want to bend her over the couch in the living room. I think we should probably stay out of the bedroom for a while, at least until after the coroner leaves. “I have to be on location for a movie shoot for the next four weeks, and then jump to a press junket in Scottsdale. Once that’s over, the promo for my next movie starts and I’ll be in Europe for a week. I get back just in time for the Academy Awards. Welcome to my life.”
“Is that an invitation?” I drop a kiss onto the top of her head.
“Do you want it to be? Really and truly? Because it can get pretty insane. I’m just forewarning you.”
I tilt her head upward. “Isn’t that what makes life so much fun?”
She giggles. “An interesting perspective. Maybe you are a little crazy.”
“The only crazy thing I’ll acknowledge is the way I feel about yo
u.” I shake my head, tracing the outline of her full lips. “No fucking way I’m leaving.”
Tatum’s soft hands graze my hips, working their way lower, dipping into my shorts. Those hands are pure evil, squeezing and stroking the length of my dick. She drops to her knees, her hot tongue teasing my swollen head. My head falls back, slamming against the wall. “Listen, gorgeous. That feels so fucking amazing, and I hate myself for stopping it, but we really need to handle the dead elephant in the room first. Once we’re alone again, I‘ll give you a real Academy Award-winning performance.”
5
Tatum
I grip the sides of the shiny porcelain, begging God for a quick death. I already know it won’t be painless. My temples throb and the gagging continues. I’ve lost count of the number of times my head has been stuck in a toilet bowl today. Keeping anything down for the past week has been impossible, so what the fuck else can possibly come up? Timing couldn’t be worse, and the last thing I want is to be photographed tossing my cookies all over the red carpet. I’m wearing Valentino, for Christ’s sake.
A soft knock at the bathroom door startles me from my prayers. “Tatum, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?”
I let out a moan, since it’s all I have the energy to do at this point. Long blonde curls spill over my shoulders, dangerously close to the water, but I don’t give a flying fuck. My stylist, on the other hand, would have a stroke on the spot if she saw her masterpiece face-first in a toilet. I try to lift my head, but it feels like it’s filled with cement, and I allow it to fall back onto my arm. I’m comfortable here. I think I’ll just stay here for the rest of the night.
In my fucking Valentino gown.
The knob turns and the door creaks open.
“Tate?” Jules pads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”
Passion, Vows & Babies_Lust, Lies, & Leis Page 5
