by Anthology
“No. I should probably savor it considering that guy won’t ever come back over to us with his tray of cake pops. He’s too scared you’ll bite his head off again,” she said, making him laugh.
Damn, he loved her sense of humor. More than anything, he flat out loved her. And he needed to do something about it to make this a permanent thing.
Soon.
Chapter Four
“Entertainment Weekly posted their review,” Reagan said as she stared at her iPad mini’s screen. She was already snug in bed, her iPad propped on her knees as she skimmed through Google links.
Declan strode out of the bathroom wearing loose navy blue lounge pants and nothing else, his toothbrush in his mouth, toothpaste on his lips. He still looked damn good though. Seeing his muscular chest and firm abs made her want to lick them. “What did they say?” he asked once he pulled out his toothbrush, then made a face. “Hold on, let me spit.”
She laughed as he darted back into the bathroom. They were at his house, getting ready for bed like an old married couple. Though she knew when he joined her in bed—after they discussed the EW review, of course—they were going to get naked in a quick hurry.
At least, that was her plan.
Within moments he was all rinsed off and sliding into bed with minty-fresh breath, trying to reach for her iPad. But she held it away from him, shaking her head.
“Come on.” He looked like a little kid dying for a piece of candy and ready to do anything to get it. “Let me read the review.” His expression grew solemn. “Unless it’s bad. If it’s bad, I don't want to read anything. Just click out of the site and pretend you never saw it.”
“It’s not bad,” she said with an exaggerated sigh, sending him a look. “Let me read it to you. And don’t be grabby.”
He leaned against the stack of pillows behind him, curling his arms behind his head like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Go for it.”
She cleared her throat, only wanting to read him one specific part. “They loved it. Thought the story was compelling, the direction superb. Here’s what they said about you, and I quote: ‘Declan Carter has made a serious comeback in his brilliant portrayal of a drug-addicted doctor whose life and career are on the line. Carter proves he’s in this for the long haul, and that he’s not just another pretty face.’ Isn’t that great?”
When he didn’t say anything she glanced up from her iPad screen to find him scowling, his gaze distant, his eyebrows lowered. He looked…mad. Upset.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“They always gotta bring up the pretty face bit.” He hurled himself off the bed and started pacing back and forth across the bedroom. “I’m so sick of that shit.”
“But they said your portrayal was brilliant. That you made a serious comeback by playing this role,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. And that I’m not just another pretty face.” He made a seriously not-pretty face just for her. “So tired of the looks bit. I’ll be a forty-year-old serious fucking actor with two Oscars and a SAG on my bookshelf and they’ll still bring up my pretty face.”
She held back the sigh that wanted to escape. He really did have such a pretty face. Handsome face, more like. She remembered when she was in her early teens and she saw his first movie. He’d been all of sixteen or seventeen, romping on the beach with some cutie actress—she couldn’t remember the Disney princess’s name, but she’d been a star of the network back in the day. Not that she mattered much to Reagan, considering all she could do was drool over Declan, looking incredibly hot in a pair of board shorts and too-long golden brown hair. Reagan had fallen hopelessly in love, along with about a billion other teenage girls, and had even had pictures of him on her wall.
She’d never admitted that to Declan. He knew she’d had a raging crush on him, but the picture thing was her secret to keep. She’d already sworn her entire family into silence, almost forcing them to take a blood oath.
“I sound like a real arrogant prick, I know it, but sometimes I wish I’d get in an accident or, say, a knife fight, and someone would slash up my face so it was scarred,” he said, striding over to the giant mirror that was part of his dresser. He pressed his hands on top of the sleek wood and glared hard at his reflection, his gaze full of hatred. “They couldn’t call my face pretty then, could they?”
Letting the sigh finally escape, she climbed out of bed and padded over to him, hooking her arms around him from behind, her head peeking around his side. “You don’t really mean that.”
He shook his head. “You’re right. I don’t. I just get so pissed off. It’s like my face is all anyone can focus on.”
“It’s a really great face,” she said wryly.
His gaze met hers in the mirror. “I’m glad you think so. Because right now, I fucking hate it.”
She shifted so she could press her forehead against the smooth, muscled expanse of his back. His burden would seem trivial to almost anyone else, but she tried her best to understand where he was coming from. He wanted to be taken seriously. He wanted his acting to be important, not his looks. He believed his looks got in the way and that was why he was so thrilled he’d been picked up for this film.
Yeah, he’d been the handsome, charming doctor at the beginning of the story, but by the end, he’d become a haggard, wasted man who’d almost lost everything that was important to him. There was already award buzz, though she knew Declan ignored that. He couldn’t get his hopes too high, not yet. The movie wasn’t even officially out yet.
“You think I’m acting like a baby,” he finally murmured, his entire body going tense within her embrace.
She leaned into him and pressed a soft kiss right between his shoulder blades. “No. You think your face is your burden.”
“Just hearing you say that makes me feel like an asshole.” He hung his head, his hands still braced against the dresser, his arms rigid. She wanted to offer him comfort. She’d believed the EW review would thrill him, and instead it had set him off. There had to be something else bothering him.
But what?
“What else is wrong?” she asked, running her nails lightly up and down his back. He shivered beneath her touch, his muscles relaxing the slightest bit, and she gently scratched him all over his back, desperate to soothe his agitated nerves.
He blew out a harsh breath, his head still bent. “I’m fucking nervous about tomorrow. What if I can’t sell a movie ticket to save my fucking life?”
“I’ve heard Fandango is reporting record ticket sales,” she reminded him, considering she’d heard that particular fact come from his mouth earlier this afternoon.
Lord, this business was like a roller coaster ride. Ups and downs, from feeling on top and invincible to down in the dumps and ready to give everything up. She didn’t know how he could take it.
“Yeah, snapped up by all my teen fans from yesteryear,” he bit out. “They’ll be sorely disappointed when they see the movie.”
“No, they won’t. They know what to expect. The movie trailers on YouTube have all been watched millions of times. People are tweeting about it, talking about the movie and you all over social media. And so what if it’s your old fans who loved you when you were young and cute and dancing on a beach? They’re loyal. You should thank those fans for their loyalty, not want to mentally beat them up because they only care about staring into your eyes and wishing they could have a chance with you.”
Declan slowly lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror once more. “See? I’m being a dick.”
“I’m just trying to remind you that it’s not all doom and gloom. You need to look at the positives, not focus on the negatives. You have strong ticket sales. Great reviews and lots of enthusiasm from your fans. You know the haters are out there, ready to tear you down. They’ll always be there so you just have to ignore them and remember that you’re an actor. Act like none of this shit is bothering you. Act like you’re on top of the world because oh my God, babe, you so are,” sh
e reminded him, grabbing hold of his waist and giving him a little shake.
He stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders. “You’re right.”
She smiled. “I usually am, you know.”
Declan laughed. “Are you always this sure of yourself?”
“No, I learned from the best.” She gave him a pointed look and he offered up an innocent expression in return. “You.”
“I didn’t figure I could teach you much of anything, considering you’re a typical stubborn woman.” He started to laugh when she continued to glare.
“More like a typical stubborn man,” she said in return, rolling her eyes.
He turned within her loose embrace, gazing down at her. “I am a lucky man, having you in my life.”
Her heart cracked wide open at his admission. “I feel the same way.”
Declan touched her cheek, let his fingers slide down the side of her face, absorbing her soft skin. He just threw a minor fit and acted like a total man-child and she never so much as flinched. He meant every word when he said he was a lucky man. Most anyone he knew would’ve told him to suck it up and quit acting like a jackass.
Not Reagan. She reminded him of what he needed to be thankful for. And she was right. He shouldn’t bag on the legion of fans he still had from his younger days. That they still cared about him and what he did blew him away. He only became fired up and resentful when someone mentioned his so-called good looks.
They may have gotten him into this acting gig, but more often than not, he found his looks to be more of a curse than a blessing.
“Why is it every time I touch you, all I can think about is getting you naked?” he asked as he drew his thumb across her plump bottom lip.
Her eyes lit with fire. “I don’t know, but I think you should go for it, because I tend to think the same way.”
“Oh yeah? So we’re both on the same page here?” He dragged his thumb back and forth, smiling when she opened her mouth and bit down on the very tip. “Even though I was inside you only a few hours ago?”
“Well, technically we never got fully naked when that happened,” she pointed out once she released his thumb from her teeth.
“True.” He cupped her face and tilted her head up, aligning her lips perfectly with his. “We’ll have to rectify that.”
“Promise?” she asked with a smile.
“Promise,” he murmured as he leaned in and brushed her mouth with his. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, a little moan escaping her when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
He could kiss her like this for hours. For days. She tasted minty and sweet, she smelled fresh and clean, and he reacted without thought, grabbing hold of her and setting her on top of his dresser, a little gasp escaping her when her butt made contact with the sleek wood.
“Cold,” she whispered against his lips. She wore only a white tank top and a pair of pale yellow cotton panties, her usual bed attire, and all he wanted to do was tear them off.
“I’ll keep you warm,” he murmured as he kissed her again, deeper this time. Harder. He rested his hand on her hip, running it upward, along her waist, across her stomach, up over her breast. She pushed into his palm, her nipple hard against his hand, and he squeezed and kneaded her flesh, knowing how much she liked it when he did that.
All he wanted to do was give her exactly what she wanted. Always.
He pushed his hand beneath her tank, his fingers skimming her quivering belly, breaking away from her lips so he could kiss down the length of her neck. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, her head hitting the mirror, and he had the sudden urge to turn her around, to force her to watch as he stripped her naked and fucked her right where they stood.
“I want you,” he whispered close to her ear, grabbing the hem of her tank so he could tug it up.
She withdrew from him, lifting up her arms so he could pull her shirt off and toss it onto the floor. “I know,” she said, a little smile curling her lips.
His gaze dropped to her chest, watching it rise and fall with her rapid breathing, her breasts on blatant display. Her rosy pink nipples were hard as diamonds, and he licked his lips. “You always so cocky?”
“Again, I learned from a master,” she started, laughing when he grabbed hold of the waistband of her panties and started tugging. “Declan,” she chastised.
He gave her a look, one that said don’t challenge me. “Lift up, baby. You know where this is going next.”
She glanced around, her lips parting in seeming shock. “Here?”
“Oh, yeah. I need you naked first, and then I’m getting naked, and then I’m going to fuck you from behind.” He leaned in close, pressing his cheek to hers, his mouth right at her ear, his fingers curled tight around the thin waistband of her panties. “And you’re going to watch.”
Chapter Five
Declan’s words left her breathless. His suggestion was something new—they’d never had sex and watched themselves in a mirror before. Yes, she’d sent him a few photos of herself and always asked him to delete them. But God, that was so risky, especially considering he was a famous actor and people were tempted to hack into his accounts. It happened all the time to celebrities. She’d be mortified if her boobs were splashed all over the Internet.
No way could she film anything with him because, again, too risky. Incredibly tempting, not that she’d ever done it before, but with Declan, she always felt daring. Bold. It was too crazy to seriously contemplate anything like that, though, so she’d always left the topic alone.
But being with Declan and watching themselves in a mirror? Now that was intriguing. Exciting.
Her heart raced just thinking about it.
He tugged on her panties again, his fingers pulling the strings tight against her skin, and she quickly lifted up her butt, allowing him to slip them down her legs until she was kicking them off onto the ground. He stepped in closer and growled, “Spread your legs,” which she did, eagerly.
Pulling away from her, he stared at the spot between her thighs, his gaze heated, his expression almost…feral. He rubbed his chin, as if he was seriously contemplating doing something extra wicked to her before he muttered, “Fuck, you’re pretty down there.”
Her body went hot all over. She almost wanted to tell him to stop embarrassing her, but then again, she loved when he said things like that. He made her feel sexy. Desired.
“Touch me,” she said as she spread her thighs even wider, the cool air washing over her hot pussy and reminding her just how aroused she was.
Declan reached out and drew a single finger along the seam of her sex, her eyelids fluttering at his first gentle touch. She sucked in a deep breath, waiting for his next move, wanting something more. He did this on purpose, damn it, toying with her. Torturing her. It was working.
Working so well that she grabbed hold of his wrist and pushed his hand closer to her pussy, so his entire palm cupped her there. “Harder. Please.”
He lifted his gaze to hers, silently questioning her. She gave the tiniest nod, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, and he twisted his wrist, two thick fingers sliding deep inside her body and making her cry out. “Damn, baby, you’re wet.”
She couldn’t reply. She was always wet for him. He said a few dirty words, gave her that heated, heavy-lidded look of his that had become so familiar, and she wanted him. The chemistry between them was undeniable. Overpowering.
Exhilarating.
When his thumb pressed against her swollen clit, she almost shot off the dresser. She clutched his shoulders, holding on tight, her nails biting into his smooth skin. Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes, lifting her hips, trying to send his fingers deeper inside her body.
“You like that?” he whispered, his thumb moving up and down, around and around her clit.
“Yes.” The word fell from her lips in a soft hiss, her entire body tightening, focusing on that one small spot where Declan touched her. Her arms shook, as did her legs,
and she knew she was close. So terribly close…
“You want to come?” His deep voice sparked white hot inside her and she nodded mutely, her hair sliding up and down her naked back, tickling her skin.
He removed his hand completely from her pussy and she lifted her head, her eyes popping open in disbelief. She moved so fast she felt dizzy and her vision was fuzzy. “Wh-what—why did you do that?”
Declan smiled, his eyes gleaming with wickedness. He knew how close she’d been. He knew just how to make her body respond. Damn him, he did this on purpose. “I want you primed, baby, before I fuck you from behind.”
Her inner walls clutched around nothing, and she wished he were already doing exactly that, fucking her from behind. She felt empty, hollow with him so far away, and she slid off the dresser, landing on her feet as he stepped back from her to make room.
“If you’re going to drive me crazy and leave me hanging, turnabout is fair play.” She reached for the waistband of his lounge pants, her hand brushing against his erect cock tenting the front. He sucked in a harsh breath, his narrowed gaze meeting hers, and she smiled, falling to her knees in front of him. “I know how to play too, Declan.”
Curling her fingers around the band, she tugged his pants down, past his hips, his cock popping free, hugely erect and leaking pre-come. She shoved the pants down his thighs, his knees, letting them fall around his feet, and he kicked them off, growling with impatience. He stood tall above her, his legs slightly spread, his cock directly in her face, and she could smell him. Soap and musk and tang, and the unmistakable scent that was Declan.
She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around the base of his cock, tilting her head back so she could smile up at him. He watched her with a grim determination that told her he was barely holding it together, and she loved it.
