by Molly McLain
“RJ...” God, I never saw him coming. Not meeting him, not laughing with him, not hating him...just for a little while. Definitely not falling for him.
Tears begin to burn in my eyes and I boldly press my feet into his shoulders needing just a little more...
“Yes, baby,” he praises me between the licking, sucking, flicking, fucking...“Fuck my face. Take what you need...”
Unggg... My eyes roll back and my hips lock, pulsing against him in short, greedy bursts that send my flying. I scream his name as my back arches and those starlit flutters come hard and fast.
“Mmm...” His lips seal around my clit and he hums, fingers pumping harder, not stopping until the wave crests again.
I cry out once more, but this time the fissure in my voice isn’t so easily disguised. The unexpected emotion rises ruthlessly in my chest and suddenly there isn’t enough air in this little haven of ours. I gasp...and gasp again, tears wetting my face.
How am I going to walk away from this? How did I ever think I could?
“Hey...” RJ’s shadowed face rises above mine, smoothing back my hair and swiping away the tears. “Breathe, gorgeous. I got you.”
He keeps saying that, but does he really? Is he somehow going to have me when it’s time to go? Because that’s what I need and I’m pretty sure that was never part of his plan.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he says softly. “We can slow down.”
“No.” Doesn’t he get it? I want him. I need him. Yeah, it’s going to hurt like fucking hell tomorrow, and I have no idea how I’m going to deal with that, but right now, the last damn thing I want is to slow down. “Inside. Now.”
Those gorgeous lashes lower just slightly and between my legs, I feel his fist wrap around his cock. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!”
He’s buried inside of me less than a second later and I can’t... I can’t anything. I can’t think or move or even cry. It’s just...too good. Too much.
“You okay?” he whispers, his forehead against mine, and I nod. “Didn’t hurt you?”
I shake my head as a single tear slides down to my hair.
“Say something. Please.” His breath is a plea against my face and I want to open my eyes and show him that I’m as okay as I want him to believe I am...but I’m not. Not really.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I can hear it in those few short syllables. He already knows. I don’t even need to say the words.
“RJ...” His name is the only thing I’m capable of and he doesn’t ask for more. Instead, he gives, slowly shifting his hips and filling me over and over again.
He kisses my cheeks and dries my tears with his lips and tongue. I hold him close, feathering my fingers in his hair and then down his shoulders, only to drag my nails back up again when he thrusts hard and I feel him so deep inside, I have no choice but to hold on tight.
“Look at me,” he grunts, and I do. The tension in his face...those tendons straining in his neck... That vulnerability in his eyes... “You and me.”
I nod.
“Never gonna regret this.”
A sob breaks free in my chest, but I don’t look away. I don’t close my eyes. I can’t.
“Didn’t expect you...” He pumps faster, harder, nostrils flaring with every ragged breath. His hands grip my ass, holding me in place, as he slams home one last time, spilling himself inside as I scream his name.
When he brushes a kiss across my lips, he shakes as fiercely as I do.
“Sure as hell won’t forget you.”
Chapter Ten
RJ
She’s never going to forgive me for this.
Not a fucking chance in hell she’ll even look at me again, let alone give me an opportunity to explain myself.
I fucked up. Bad.
“You want me to wait here?” she asks when we pull into the driveway of my childhood home early the next morning. She smiles that pretty smile, looking like a supermodel in the passenger seat of my pickup, and my gut aches like Mayweather took me out in the tenth.
For two days, it’s been like this.
Those soul-bearing hazel eyes, the way those perfect lips turn into a bow when I make her laugh or when I make her come...
That fucking dress she put on this morning. For him.
She talks a lot of shit, acts like she can’t stand the idea of sitting down for more than a minute with Rush, but deep down she’s nervous as hell. I see it in her eyes. This gig is going to open doors for her.
It’s going to close them for me.
“Nah, my old man’s probably still in his underwear.” My mom would also ask a shit ton of questions and I’ll have enough of those to answer soon enough.
“‘Kay. I’ll keep things warm out here.”
No doubt she’ll do just that. She kept my bed plenty warm last night.
“Come on, you mangy mutt. Let’s go see Grandma.”
Julianna’s husky laugh follows me and Eddie out of the truck, and my conscience hangs its head in shame. I’m going to turn that laughter into confusion and mistrust. Probably even hatred.
“Honey!” My mom meets me at the backdoor, already looking country club chic in her purple velour track suit and full makeup before seven a.m. That’s her, though. On point, 24/7, even when I brought a shit storm of trouble to their door.
“Morning, Ma.” She opens her arms and I wrap her up in a long overdue hug, kissing the top of her salt and pepper hair. “Sorry I called for a favor before I came to visit.”
“You know I don’t care why you come home, just that you do.” She waves me inside and Eddie runs ahead, chasing her little Shiatzu into the living room.
“Holy dogs!” My dad’s gruff chuckle carries through the house before he limps around the corner, already dressed for work at the power company. He should have retired three years ago—almost had to after the break-in—but he’s too bullheaded to simply kick back and enjoy life, even with the bum leg.
“Hey, Dad.” I lift my hand, but he does me one better and crosses the kitchen for a one-armed hug.
“Heard you’re headed up north, eh?” he asks, clapping my shoulder before he heads to the coffee pot to fill his Thermos.
“Yeah, I’m driving a friend to a meeting in Minneapolis. She has to be there in a couple hours.”
“She?” Mom’s eyes go wide and I grimace.
“Just a friend, Ma.” And probably not for much longer.
“Is she staying at the cabin? What’s her name?”
“Julianna.” And no way in hell am I telling them she’s spent the past two nights with me. They’ll have the wedding planned and the grandkids named before I can get back to the truck. “Look, I gotta run. Don’t want to make her late.”
“Bring her in when you come back for Eddie. I’ll make dinner.”
“No, Ma,” I snap and immediately feel like an ass for it. The truth is, my folks would love Crash. She’d laugh at my old man’s lame jokes and she’d get a kick out of my mom’s spunk. But in Julianna’s own words, she and I were just having fun. Tomorrow, we’ll be a memory.
A memory I want all to myself.
***
“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Across the front seat, Julianna presses a hand to her stomach. Over the hour and a half we’ve been on the road, she’s cycled through freezing to death, hot flashes, laughing her ass off, and even a few tears. Now this.
“What exactly are you nervous about? Talk it out. It might help.” I’m a prick for asking, knowing damn well I’ll use whatever she has to say to further my own cause, but I do it anyway.
“I have no idea what to expect,” she confesses, her fingers curling around the hem of her charcoal dress. I notice because I’ve spent the past hundred or so miles watching the damn thing creep up her thighs.
Fucked up, isn’t it? I’m miles and minutes away from destroying every ounce of trust she’s given me and I can’t stop thinking about how amazing it felt when I buried myself between those p
retty legs.
“What do you mean?” I ask, clearing my throat. “You’ve done interviews before, right?”
“Of course, but I’ve always had a reasonable amount of information about the person I’m talking to beforehand. I know virtually nothing about Rush.” She sighs as the Minneapolis skyline rises on the horizon and tightens that hold on her skirt.
“Don’t you usually do some kind of research?”
She flicks me a sidelong glance and it’s a good thing I already know the answer or I might be offended by her duh expression.
“Yes, but Rush isn’t just any subject—he’s a ghost. For some reason, about seven years ago, he fell off the radar. Went dark.”
“Dark?”
“Disappeared,” she explains. “Aside from his books, anyway.”
“Huh.” Interesting to hear someone else’s perspective on the matter. “So how do you know he’s a dick?”
She pushes a hand back through her hair, the dark locks shimmering in the sun shining through her window. “Honestly, I don’t know that. The few interviews I could find prior to his disappearance portrayed him as aloof and self-assured. Another said he was an asshole. That’s really all I have to go on.”
“So, you’re jumping to conclusions, is that what you’re saying?”
She shrugs. “Probably not. Once an asshole, always an asshole.”
I laugh. “Wow.”
“Don’t get me wrong—he’s crazy talented. I mean, those sex scenes are something else.” She whistles low and shakes her head, a small smile tipping her painted lips. “But there are tons of great authors out there doing their own thing just as well, you know?”
Uh huh. Personally, I’ve never understood why people have reacted to Rushton Cole’s books like they have. Sure, they’re entertaining reads—I’ve read a few—but are they that special? Not really. The guy had a little talent and he got lucky, plain and simple.
“Ugh.” Julianna glances at her phone, lit up on the console. “It’s Andrew.”
“Answer it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You can’t avoid him forever, Crash. We’re almost there.”
She casts those gorgeous eyes my way and the dread brewing in my gut twists hard. “I just wish we had a little more time together, you know?”
“We will, baby.”
It’s just not the kind of time she’s expecting.
***
Somewhere between her call with Andrew and our arrival at the hotel, Julianna pulled back her shoulders and slid on her game face. She walked into that lobby like a fucking queen about claim her kingdom and I’ve never wanted her more.
Her ability to acknowledge her fears and look those bastards dead in the eye is what drew me to her from the start. She was scared shitless when we came face to face outside the cabin, but she lifted her chin and she owned it.
I saw glimpses of that little fighter dozens of times over the past two days, but the ones that will stick with me forever were her tears and then her determination last night when we made love.
I wasn’t wrong when I told her she wasn’t that kind of girl. But she saw something she wanted—for the life of me, I’ll never understand why that was me—and she reached out and took it. The reward, in her eyes, was worth the risk. I was worth the risk. Just like this interview.
And I’m going to shake that bravery right to the damn ground.
Why? Because apparently, I really am the asshole everyone thinks I am.
“I’m going to head up,” she says, nodding toward the elevator and smiling that gorgeous smile she’s given me so many times in the past couple of days. She toes up and steals a kiss, and I hold her close for a just a moment longer.
“Knock ‘em dead, beautiful,” I whisper against her lips, and she grins again.
“I’ll see you in a couple hours. Try not to miss me too much.” She pulls away, sashaying her ass to the elevator and tossing one last kiss over her shoulder.
I watch her go, until the doors close and the elevator car begins to climb.
Why? I ask myself again.
Because after seven fucking years, maybe I wanted a little something for myself, too.
***
Julianna
Checking my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, I push off of the leather sofa in the swanky hotel suite and stroll to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Sunshine streaks across the baby blue sky and I sigh. What a perfect winter day. Or at least it will be when I finish this interview and find RJ again. I want one last night with him before reality calls us back home.
My phone chimes on the coffee table and I hurry over as the long-awaited messaged from Andrew lights up the screen. On our way up. Help yourself to a drink.
At ten o’clock in the morning? Is that a friendly offer or a hint that I’m going to need it?
I shake my head and smile. I’m pretty sure Andrew caught onto my reluctance during our first conversation, so I wouldn’t put it past him to suggest alcohol as a means to make these next couple of hours more tolerable. At least meeting him will be nice, if this thing with Rush turns out to be a bust.
I sit patiently for three more minutes, waiting for the telltale click of the electronic lock disengaging on the door, before I get up again and pace. Back and forth in front of the windows, doing my damnedest not to wring my hands and make them sweatier than they already are.
To say I startle when I finally hear noise at the door would be an understatement. Almost going ass over teakettle straight into the minibar is more accurate. Thankfully, I save myself and even have a second to fix my skirt before the door opens and a tall, familiar man strolls in.
“Julianna?” He smiles, his light eyes dancing, as he approaches with an outstretched hand. “I’m Andrew.”
“We finally meet,” I say, and then chuckle softly. “Wow, you look exactly like your picture. Not that I Googled you or anything.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Don’t feel bad, I did the same for you. Luckily, I didn’t have to break out the yearbooks.”
“Yearbooks?”
He nods. “Yeah. I went to school with Rush and your sister.”
“What? You never told me that!” I barely resist slugging him in the arm.
“Yep. Rush and I go way back.”
“Wow, that’s crazy. How long have you been working for him?”
“About a year now.” He gestures to the sofa and I sit while he makes a drink. “I sort of bull-nosed my way into the job. I was working for a PR company in Chicago and we ran into each other one night at the barber, of all places.”
“The barber? No way.”
“Right?” He fills a glass with ice, but only pours a swallow or two of club soda before claiming the seat opposite me. “Anyway, we went out for drinks, got to talking, and now I run his life.” He winks and I smile.
“I thought his agent did that.”
“Yeah, Claudette’s a taskmaster, too, but he’s always been a good pupil where she’s concerned. Gets his books written in time and whatnot. It’s his image that needs some spit shining, for the lack of a better term.”
That’s what I suspected. Or maybe feared is a better word. “And that’s where this interview comes into play?”
He dips his chin. “I hope so.”
Hmm. “I’ve asked before and I got the distinct impression you didn’t want to answer. But now that I’m here, I’m hoping you can clue me in.” He lifts an eyebrow and I come out with it. “What’s my role here, other than the obvious?”
Andrew nods again, as if he was expecting the question. “It’s actually nothing secretive, but I was worried if you knew the entire reason I chose you, you’d turn down the job.”
“You chose me? Not Rush?”
“Yeah. See, it’s my job to make him look good. As the hometown girl, you can make the most of what Rush is willing to share. Build the story from the ground up and tie a pretty bow on it, so to speak. Humanize him some.”
Well that doesn’t sound intimidating at all.
Spreading his hands wide, he flashes a megawatt grin. “Look, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you’ve done your research and you’ve already figured out that a few years back, Rush pretty much fell off the face of the earth.”
“Yes, but that’s all I found.”
“I know, and I’m sorry that up until now I couldn’t give you anything more. But there’s good reason for it, I swear. Unfortunately, it’s Rush’s story to tell, not mine. I will say that I’m confident you’re the best person for this job for a number of reasons, but it’s our shared history that’s going give you an edge when it comes to actually writing this article.”
Slowly, the pieces begin to fall into place and I’m not sure if I’m flattered or if I feel manipulated. I think it’s the former...or maybe I just want to think that because Andrew is such a charming guy.
“Your wheels are spinning.” He flashes a crooked grin and I nod.
“You have some mighty high expectations. I just hope I can fulfill them.” Especially when I still don’t know what to expect from Rush himself.
“You’ll do just fine, Julianna. Better than fine.”
One can only hope. “So, when do I get to meet the elusive Rushton Cole? If we’re going to accomplish what you’re hoping for, I’ll need all the time I can get with him.”
Andrew’s eyes light up as his focus slides from me to something over my shoulder. “I think right now would be good.”
Before I can turn and follow his line of vision, a husky, all-too-familiar voice carries through the air, sliding down my spine like an intimate caress.
“We’ve already met.”
Chapter Eleven
RJ
Breathe.
Fuck, that’s a lot easier to say than do when the woman I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours falling for stands before me with so much confusion in her eyes.
“RJ?” She grips the arm of the sofa like it’s a lifeline, her fingers as white and as bloodless as her pretty face. “What are you...” She doesn’t finish.
