He gave my ass a tug, fitting me against him tightly. The heat of his body on mine, the clean smell of his skin, and everything about his eyes were setting off dizzying chemical reactions in my brain.
The song ended, and people whistled and clapped appreciatively. I took a calming breath and gave a little bow.
“I won, I get to go again, and it’s my turn to stump you,” he said gruffly, typing a song on his phone. “Alright, kiddo, hope you’re okay with the eighties.”
“Don’t hold back, boss. I might surprise you.”
He led us back to the table, and I reclaimed my beer. “V, you do nothing but surprise me.”
“Somebody’s Baby” began, and I narrowed my eyes. “I know this song. Who sings this?”
“Jackson Browne.”
I reached for his phone, trying to remember where I heard the song before.
Old movie… high school movie… Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Who was in that movie? Focus… Judge Reinhold, Sean Penn… Nicholas Cage was in that movie. I wondered if his good friend Keaton knew that.
“Oooh, hard one.” He grinned, finishing his beer and waving to the bar. Two more shots were placed in front of us, and I groaned. “No cheating on IMDB over there.”
“No, I got this,” I said, typing quickly.
“I cannot wait for this.” He inched the shot closer to me, and I arched one eyebrow.
“Looks like I’m driving your Ferrari back to the hotel,” Robin said, appearing at our table and gesturing to our drinks. “Nice dancing, Viv. Hot. I almost punched Dean when he drooled on the pool table. I’m running to the car for his cigarettes- be right back.”
She waved and moved to the front door, and I turned to Keaton. “I really love your family,” I said, tentative, as though I was asking for his permission.
He reached for my hand, palm to palm, threading his fingers through mine. “You fit right in,” he said.
The song drew to a close, and Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away” began.
Keaton’s eyes grew shadowy, heavy, and he leaned forward in his chair. “Top Gun.”
“And?”
He sat back, narrowing his eyes and watching me intently.
I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping a fingernail on my wrist.
Finally, he grinned, throwing back the shot and standing. I lifted my eyes as he moved to my side of the table, holding out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“But I won.”
His hazel eyes focused and unfocused on my face, taking in my neck, chest, and settling back on my hand. With just the sweep of his gaze over my body, I forgot how to breathe evenly.
In… out.
My heart skipped a group of necessary, cadenced beats.
He put on his director face, his tone changing to a screenplay narrative.
“She goes with him anyway, because she wanted him to lose… just so he would ask her to dance.”
I let him pull me to my feet. We barely made it a step away from the table in the balmy, dark bar. He tucked my head against his chest, his fingers releasing my ponytail before sliding down the length of my hair. Familiar; sweet.
Loving.
“Tell me the connection.”
I flattened my palm against his lower back… and my cheek to his heart.
“Your song was from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and Anthony Edwards had a cameo in that movie. One.” I slowly moved my hands up his back and over his shoulder blades, liking that I could feel his sharp intake of breath. “He played Goose in Top Gun. Two. This song was from the Top Gun soundtrack. Three.”
He backed away, putting just enough space between us to cup my face in his hands.
Robin appeared, nearly stepping between us. Her face had taken on the stern, no-bullshit expression that I was familiar with, and Keaton dropped his hands from my neck. “Viv, come to the ladies’ room with me.”
“I… okay.” I nodded, sharing one more fleeting glance with him before following her to the restroom.
As soon as we passed through the doorway, she slammed the door, glaring at me. “What. The. Fuck.”
“What?” I watched her fuming, completely confused. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” She pointed at the wall. “I happen to flip through the folder that I was sitting on the whole way here, only to find some bullshit- in your handwriting- about a contract between you and my brother-”
“No… oh, no, Robin...” I covered my mouth as anxiety punched me in the stomach. I wanted to vomit.
Her dark eyes were blazing. “Legal and Binding Contract Between-”
“Stop, please just let me explain,” I begged. She held her arms out wide, shaking her head.
“By all means, explain to me why my asshole brother is paying you to sleep with him for the weekend. But, better yet, explain to me why you agreed to fuck someone for money!”
“He’s not paying me to sleep with him!” I shouted, just as a woman exited the stall to our left. She hurried to the sink without making eye contact, washing her hands as fast as possible before running from the restroom.
“What, then? I care more about you, having only known you for a month, than I care about my brother, who I haven’t seen in seven years. I love you, Viv. I won’t let you do this.”
“He just wanted… an escort… for the weekend. Nothing sexual. Just a… part to play. So he doesn’t look like a… loser… at the wedding…”
My voice drifted off, and I couldn’t find the right words to defend myself to Robin. She took a step forward, toward me, and in that single movement my eyes filled with embarrassed tears.
“This is to pay Matthew, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course it is! I’m not sleeping with Keaton-”
“-but you’re falling for him,” she concluded, shaking her head again with a breathy huff. “I can see it. I can see it when he kisses you, and when you dance, and when you sit so goddamn close and whisper to each other. Even my mom is fooled. You can’t be that great of an actress, Viv.”
I was insulted and defensive all at once, and I reacted in a tearful jumble of words. “He’s fun to be with, and we’re having a good time. Nothing more. I’m an adult, Robin, and so is he. I can make my own decisions.”
She raised one dark eyebrow, the small, silver hoop above her eye reflecting the light in the bathroom. “Fine. Then let me tell you this, and you can pass this along to Keaton. You both better not do one thing to fuck up Luke’s wedding. That kid deserves happiness, and I’m going to make sure that he has the best day of his life tomorrow. Understood?”
I nodded, brushing at my tears. She rolled her shoulders back, awkwardly reaching for me and delivering a semi-hug. “I’m not going to ruin Luke’s day. And I’m not falling for Keaton.”
She patted my back gently. “You’d better check your script, honey. If you haven’t gotten to that page yet, you will.”
With that, she left me standing in the middle of the restroom.
By the time I cleaned myself up and wiped away my running mascara, Keaton was waiting by the door for me. I gave him a confused look, and he shrugged. “Robin insisted we leave. She wants everyone up early and ready for the big day.”
“Oh.” I nodded, heading for the door, but he caught my hand. I turned back to him slowly.
“I’ll make sure we celebrate your birthday tonight,” he promised, and delicious chills ran over my arms.
Keaton drove, despite his beer and two shots. The ride back to the hotel was silent as we watched the fireworks over Three Rivers Stadium. Robin refused to look my way, and I desperately wanted to explain more, but she practically ran to the elevator ahead of us.
Back in the hotel room, Keaton produced a bottle labeled Maker’s Mark, pouring himself a glass while I worked to transfer my bags to the adjoining suite. He helped me with the move, neatly hanging the garments in my closet.
“Want to buy a movie?” he suggested. I held the last of the bags in my hands, my eyes wandering to the big bed. A movie meant we’d
be sprawled out on the bed in front of the television, and we’d be close, and inevitably my shoulder would brush his, and then…
“Not tonight,” I finally replied, smiling politely.
He raised his eyebrows, taking a quick drink. “Are you going to bed?”
I glanced over at the bottle of whiskey, and then back to him. “We’d better. Big day tomorrow.”
He nodded, downing the glass in two swallows before refilling. I bit my lip, holding back a comment.
What he drinks or how much he drinks is not my problem or concern.
“Well, goodnight. Thanks for the game, it was fun,” I called, standing at the doorway between the two suites.
He raised his glass in my direction. “Goodnight, V.”
I closed the door, wavering between locking and unlocking the deadbolt. The sensible part of my mind ordered me to lock the door and go to bed, but the lust rushing through my veins forced me to turn away and leave the door accessible from his side.
I knew what I wanted, and if that made me a passive-aggressive slut, I didn’t care.
Taking a long, hot shower, I worked up my courage to listen to Matthew’s message. I towel-dried my long hair, moving to my bags.
One of the black, silken negligees that Keaton had purchased tempted me. I’d never slept in anything so luxurious, and decided that, with my birthday only minutes away, I might as well indulge.
The material felt like cool kisses, falling over every curve in just the right way. I was tempted to throw the door open and model for my ‘boss’ (inevitably inviting him to take it off of me) but instead fell back to the bed and turned off the light.
My heart was thumping, making me almost dizzy as I played Matthew’s voicemail.
“Vivian, please call me. I’m worried about you. We need to talk. I’ll try to call again in the morning.”
Ending the call, I stared at the ceiling in the dark hotel room.
The bedside clock flashed 12:04.
Closing my eyes, I slid my hand down the length of my side, my mind inevitably searching for Matthew.
Instead, Keaton’s face appeared.
Every nerve in my body came alive.
I made it as far as slipping out of my panties when I heard the door across the room click open. Sitting up quickly, I peered through the darkness. The TV in his suite illuminated him, just barely.
“Keaton?”
He took another step into the room, and I held my breath. “Hi.”
“Hi?” I exhaled nervously. “What do you want?” He stared at me for endless moments. My heart thudded in my ears, and I felt faint. After too much silence, I managed to find my trembling voice. “Keaton?”
“Lay back, Vivian.”
My mouth went dry. He stood in the doorway, using the heavy door to keep him steady on his feet.
What, that’s it? He thinks this is just going to happen? I felt a prideful burst of anger, narrowing my eyes. “Go back to your room. We have rules-”
“I’m not going to touch you.” He took a step forward, and I inched backward toward the headboard. The heavy hotel room door slammed shut, the sound ominous.
This was what I wanted. Right? I left the door unlocked.
Fucking alcohol- I tried to think about something other than the fact that I was already so turned on, and this sexy man was standing inches from my body.
Only the thin crack of light from my bathroom lit the suite, and I struggled to see his shadowed face. I heard the ice in his glass clink together as he took a long drink.
“Lay back.”
I gave a shaky, jagged sigh, obeying. He took a step closer to the foot of the bed, but I kept my eyes on the ceiling, counting my rapid breaths. My body was on fire at the sound of his voice.
The negligee did little to cover my thighs. I pressed them together, the long silence both frightening and erotic. He continued to stand at the end of the bed, his shirt haphazardly unbuttoned at his collar, and a glass of Maker’s Mark in his hand.
How well do I know him? I knew a lot about him, but he was truly a stranger to me at that moment. A man, twice as strong, and with way more life experience than I had. He isn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t really know him.
I don’t know him at all.
But I wanted to.
When he slowly pulled the sheet away, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Slide your hand over your thighs. I want your fingers between your legs.”
I swallowed, my throat burning. The throbbing from deep between my legs intensified, as though my body knew what was coming. I’d touched myself many, many times, but never in front of anyone else.
Uncertainly, I reached for the hem of the thin, silken negligee, tucking my fingers between my legs. He sighed, slowly, more ice hitting glass as he took a drink.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered.
My heart thundered. This was too much, and not enough. Too slow, and not nearly fast enough. I was already so wet, already wanting to rub myself, but so afraid to do this in front of him.
I couldn’t speak. Sluggish, drunk with longing, and dizzy from holding my breath, I did as he said. Sliding my ankles along the sheets, I opened my legs, finally lowering my eyes from the ceiling to his face.
His knees were pressed against the mattress. His strong hands were inches from my body. Just the thought of him this close, where one simple movement would mean that he was touching me, pushed me beyond decency. I exhaled quickly, reaching for the apex of my thighs, but his commanding voice shocked me.
“No. I want to look at you,” he said, dropping to his knees. I moaned, digging my nails into my own palms. I was wide open, and I could feel his hot breath against my deepest places. “Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.”
“Keaton,” I moaned softly, unable to stop writhing against the bed.
“Slowly,” he permitted, still not moving. I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him; he was close enough to press his mouth to the place where I wanted to put my hands. “Put your finger inside yourself.”
My God, my heart was going to explode. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. His words were so forbidden, so sexual, and I paused as my nerves took over.
“I’m right here. I’m watching what you do. Show me what makes you come, Vivian,” he directed. “Show me what I should do to you. Slide your finger in your wet pussy, deep. Now.”
“I can’t-”
“Now.”
I was dizzy, too aroused to be embarrassed any more. I did as he said, easing my palm over my abdomen, and then lower, urgent, natural. Eagerly I slid one finger deep, probing against my own familiar dampness. Pleasure won over all inhibitions, and knowing that he was there, watching me, excited me more than my own touch.
I was going to come, hard and fast. He was close enough to taste me.
My cries grew louder, and the pressure built quickly. I gasped as his fingers encircled my wrist, pulling my hand away.
He focused on my eyes, and his mouth closed over my wet fingertip. When his tongue slid down my finger, I uttered a small cry, tortured, drowning in senses and need...
And Keaton.
“You taste so good, V,” he murmured, continuing to kiss along my palm to my wrist.
The torment was beyond imaginable.
And suddenly, he bent his head, and his mouth took over.
I arched my back, moaning. His fingers parted my folds, and he tugged my hips closer. I bucked to meet his diving tongue, crying out some unintelligible word. His finger slid inside of me, rapid, deep. I jolted as his tongue darted over my clit again and again. Gripping his hair, I gasped as he pushed in another finger.
I was coming apart, not caring that the walls of the hotel were thin or that half of the wedding party occupied our floor. “Keaton!” I screamed as waves of the shattering orgasm consumed me, stole me away, erasing my mind.
He was pushing the negligee up, dragging his mouth over my navel, his tongue tracing my stomach.
My abdomen. The
scar.
I panicked, even as I rode out the last of the fading spasms inside.
“No- no,” I tried to push him away, but he continued up to my breasts, cupping, pinching, kissing, drawing each hardened bud into his mouth. “Stop-”
“It’s just a mark,” he whispered, lifting his face and hovering over me in the darkness. Tears burned my eyes, and I knew they’d fall at any given moment. “It’s just a story, V. We all have a story.”
I succumbed to his words, shaking my head. “No, please, just go. Please just go.”
He backed away, stumbling toward the door. His heavy breathing, laced with the smell of whiskey, filled the silence in the room. “I’m sorry.”
I heard the door close, rolling over to my side to press my face into the pillow.
About Last Night
K
“Snow White.”
She murmured something into her pillow, and I grinned.
“Go away.”
“You are grumpy in the morning. Damn.”
She stirred, blinking before bolting upright in the bed and gripping the sheet to her chest. Her face flushed several shades of red as the events of the night before obviously ran through her mind.
I’d woken up face-down on the comforter of my bed, still in my clothes from the last night. Unlike most times I passed out drunk, I vividly remembered the events of the evening.
Dancing with Vivian in the bar… watching the fireworks light up her face on the way back to the hotel…
Her soft moaning as I moved my mouth between her thighs.
Had she not stopped me, I would have woken up with her in my arms. And even given all the other complications we were creating for ourselves (the whole me paying her for sex, blah, blah, blah) I wouldn’t have cared.
My belief in love at first sight was founded on simple logic. If it was possible to hate on first sight, the opposite was also true.
Love was possible.
And, it also fit nicely into the plot of two-hour movies.
I shook my head, unable to believe that I was actually thinking these fucking thoughts. With Vivian, with this girl who came out of nowhere and flashed me a smile that worked like a defibrillator on my heart, my life seemed a little less insane. The ease between us, the teasing laughter, and the pure fun was something I craved, something I hadn’t had in a very long time.
Below Unforgiven (The Movie Book 1) Page 12
