#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  “So this sexiest man shoot?” I took a mouthful of pancake, the syrup licking bound to happen any minute. “They make you strip off or were you wearing clothes?”

  Ordinarily I would have been a fan of the former. The more skin, the better. But my attitude had changed somewhat. No one else needed to see him like that, it’s not like he was a piece of meat for God’s sake. He had a brain. He was talented. It was offensive to exploit him. Yeah, yeah, finger pointing and name-calling. I was well aware of the hypocrisy.

  “Suit in some photos. Jeans, no shirt in others.” He smiled, a strip of bacon between his fingers hesitating at his mouth. “Nothing I haven’t done before.”

  Yeah, I know. I had probably a hundred or so similar photos saved to my cloud. Not that I would be admitting to that.

  “Interesting.” I took a sip of juice; Lila wasn’t around so there was no liquor in it.

  “It’s actually not. Lots of standing around. Hot lights. Posing for hours in weird positions. I could think of better ways to spend my time.” The edges of his mouth curled.

  I assumed his cheeky grin meant something sexual, possibly something we hadn’t tried yet. There wasn’t a chance I was saying no. Whatever it was, I was totally game.

  “Like getting to know the girl I’ve been sleeping with.”

  Oh, I had been wrong.

  “You know me,” I scoffed, throwing my head back and laughing like an idiot. “All the important stuff at least.”

  “I know you live in Brooklyn, you’re an actress and your name is Tia Monroe.” He abandoned his breakfast of bacon and eggs to list his Tia based knowledge. “You think juice is only a breakfast drink, you hate cosmopolitans, you don’t eat white condiments, you have a tendency to sleep sex and in the mornings you lose your mind.”

  “See, you know all the important stuff.” I waved my hand in the air dismissively, secretly impressed he’d remembered all of that. “More than I know about you, actually. I have no idea where you live.” Not a lie, although I had narrowed it down to a ten-mile radius.

  “You want my address?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  He laughed, the light hitting his eyes. “It’s in the graveyard of lost orgasms.”

  “Ugh, Ryan told you about that?” Mental note. Kill Ryan. I’d initially spared him when Lila texted me that she got home okay but now, he was being maimed at the very least.

  “Couldn’t tell me fast enough.” The grin widened. “But seriously,” his thumb wiped off the pancake syrup from the corner of my mouth before putting it in his. “I want to know more.”

  God, those eyes.

  They were literally going to be my undoing.

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” My stupid mouth once again let the team down.

  Seriously who needed truth serum, just sit me down in front of Eric Larsson and I’d confess to shit I hadn’t even done.

  “Good. I like that.” He took another bite of his breakfast.

  My gut churned with confliction.

  On one hand, the idea of Eric wanting to get to know me was out of this world level of excitement. I’d assumed we’d have sex, he’d get bored and would be gone by morning. I hadn’t planned for the contingency we were currently in. But on the other hand, our relationship—and I used that word in the loosest possible terms—had started with a teeny-weeny bit of deceit. Could I come clean now and not have him hate me? But on the other hand—or maybe I was up to feet now—did I really expect this to continue? I mean honestly, look inside myself and believe—like for real, not in my wild crazy imagination—that it was going to last beyond a week. Maybe two?

  He wasn’t going to fall in love with me. All of it was temporary and I needed to remember that however fun and exciting it was, that eventually he would leave. I would go back to my regular life and I wouldn’t be sad. Maybe I’d allow myself to be a little sad, because of all the awesome sex I’d be missing. Yes, that would be acceptable.

  “I’m one of three kids, all girls.” I sighed, knowing despite my choices I was powerless to control the outcome. “My dad worked as a high school football coach until he retired. My mother taught English. They have an epic love story and still live in the same house they bought when they got married.”

  “Four boys and me. Parents divorced. Father remarried.” He ran off his condensed life history. “No epic love story and we moved around a lot as kids.”

  The information wasn’t new to me, but it was the first time I’d wished it had been.

  “Tell me about your work.” He wanted more, his breakfast all but forgotten. “What have you done, what do you want to do? Do you have auditions coming up? Has Judith secured anything promising?”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  “She’s working on it. See she’s my sister also.” I tried to salvage some truth in the situation. “So it’s not like a huge priority right now. Which I’m fine with because I don’t think I’m ready for anything big right now.” I hoped I was digging myself out of a hole and not into a bigger one. “I’ve been thinking of doing some theatre. You know, small, alternative stuff where there is like five people in the audience. Get my chops up. Pay my dues and all that stuff.”

  I was a terrible person.

  A horrible lying, shitful person.

  But if it meant a day or two more with him, then selfishly I was going to do whatever I needed to do.

  Because it would eventually end. And then what did it matter if I’d been an actress, a janitor or a column writer for The Post.

  “That sounds like an amazing idea. It’s actually really smart.” He seemed impressed. Which just made me feel worse.

  I was a convincing unemployed actress.

  Bravo.

  “Most people want to go right into high-budget stuff, but the more you add to your resume, the better. You know, if you have any scripts, I’d love to run lines with you.”

  I was a terrible person.

  Shitful, lying, bad person.

  “That would be awesome.” The tight smile making the words difficult to speak. Or perhaps it was because I was lying my fucking ass off, with a better chance of ending up an old woman surrounded by cats than actually starring in a production of it. “But I would hate to feel like I was using you. You know, like I was taking advantage of you and I couldn’t do that.”

  “Ah, New York, it’s not taking advantage if I offer.” His thumb stroked my cheek. “Besides, I haven’t done theatre since I was like thirteen. Might be good to broaden my horizons.”

  “I’m all for broadening horizons.”

  Terrible.

  Bad.

  Person.

  “ON YOUR KNEES.”

  I rolled over onto my stomach pushing myself up onto all fours. It was late or early—I’d given up checking the time—as Eric grabbed me by the waist.

  “New York, you aren’t tired, are you?” His cock filled me in a rush. “I could stop if you want and you can go to sleep.” He started to slowly pull out.

  “No. Don’t you dare,” I warned, my hips pushing hard against him, giving me back the part of his cock he’d taken away. “Don’t you fucking dare stop now.”

  “Maybe I’ll just go slow then.” He slowly drew out before sliding back. “Give you a breather.” He had the audacity to freaking laugh.

  “If I wanted slow I’d be fucking myself.” My body bucked against him, finding my own rhythm. “Now give me what I need.”

  I’d never been shy when it came to sex. I wasn’t the type of girl who laid there and let a guy fumble his way to an orgasm. Life was too short for bad sex.

  But with Eric I’d evolved into something else. My mouth spewed out some of the dirtiest, demanding shit I’d ever heard. And Eric loved it. My mouth and sexual appetite—getting him constantly hard.

  “Is this what you need?” He slammed into me, his hands so firm around my hips I was positive I was going to bruise. His resolve to hold out tossed out the window
as he continued to thrust.

  “I’m sorry, are you fucking me or are you selling me life insurance?” I turned my neck as much as I could, giving him the biggest grin I could manage. “From this angle I can’t tell.”

  “FUCK!” I screamed out, his hand coming down hard on my ass as he pushed in even deeper and faster than before.

  “That’s right, and I can feel you want to come. Don’t try and stop it.” One of his hands dipped down to touch my clit, his thumb circling it as he fucked me.

  “Yes.” My mouth involuntarily moaned.

  “I want to feel you come, Tia.”

  As much as I wanted to resist, my body took over, my pussy exploding around his cock as he came with me.

  “That’s it.” He continued to move against me, teasing the last wave of ecstasy from me. “You feel so fucking good when you come. I’ll never get enough.”

  And if I hadn’t been so physically exhausted, I wouldn’t have been able to contain the excitement of hearing those words from his mouth. I refused to read more into it, convinced it was the post-sex bliss doing the talking. Because I doubted I’d be able to ever get enough either.

  Spent, we collapsed onto my sweat-soaked sheets, our breathing out of control.

  “Life insurance? Really?” Eric laughed as he pulled me in closer to him, his hand resting on my ass. “I should smack your ass again just for the insult.”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t like it, Larsson.” I gently bit his shoulder. “It’s probably about time you had sex with someone who can give as good as they get.”

  “You are right about that.” His lips moved to my mouth. “We’ll add smart ass to the list of things I’ve learned about you.”

  “And we’ll add ass man to yours,” I mumbled against his lips. “I’d always pegged you as more of a legs man to be honest.”

  “I’m very diverse.” His mouth covered mine as he kissed me. “And your ass is especially sexy.”

  We hadn’t left the apartment since I allegedly answered the door naked. We ordered food, ate, talked and fucked. Mostly fucked. Binging on each other, neither of us able to get enough.

  “Plans today?” He disposed of the condom, tossing it into a wastepaper basket beside my bed before rolling back toward me. “You have anything important to do?”

  “Nothing pressing.” Unless you counted the column I needed to submit by tomorrow. Not sure when I was going to finish that. Sex with Eric or write about whether pole dancing could be an Olympic sport? Tough choice. “What about you?”

  “I had an idea.” His teeth played with his bottom lip. Fuck it was adorable. “Something we can do, but I don’t know if you are going to freak out.”

  “Is it anal?” I asked and cue my complete lack of shock. He wouldn’t be the first guy to ask. “Because if it is, I’m cool with that.”

  “Um no.” His eyes widened in surprise, or maybe excitement. Guys really liked anal. “But I will say that I am now hard and wanting very much to fuck you in the ass.”

  “No, I want to hear what the freaky thing you want to do is first.” I waved off his advances to touch my ass. “Come on, tell me. Is it really freaky? Bondage, hot wax?” As long as it wasn’t too crazy, I was game.

  “My little nympho.” He chuckled before his voice turned serious. “More things to add to the list. And I intend to try every last one.”

  “So . . .” I prompted, super curious about what it could be.

  “So, I want you to have dinner with me, and meet a friend.”

  The whole proposition was a landmine.

  Abort, abort.

  “What kind of friend?” I hadn’t even considered a threesome. It was one thing I was not cool with. No fucking way. “I’m not fucking your friend if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Can you get your mind off sex for two seconds?” He laughed, his body gently shaking as he kissed my forehead.

  “There is no way I want you fucking any of my friends and I sure as shit am not going to facilitate it. In fact, here’s a rule.” His hand curled under my chin, tilting my head up. “You can’t fuck any of my friends.”

  “Fine, and you can’t fuck any of mine.”

  It was a good rule too. There wasn’t a lot I could do about the greater population, but if I didn’t have to see him with anyone I knew it would be a hell of a lot easier. Actually it wasn’t easier, I didn’t want him screwing anyone else either. Metal note. When this ends, negotiate celibacy.

  “Good, so now we’re clear neither of us are going to screw each other’s friends.” He gave me a squeeze. “I want you to meet and talk to a friend of mine.”

  This didn’t sound good. Firstly, we’d be out in public and subject to scrutiny. I didn’t care what people thought about me, or whether or not I belonged with Eric—ironic considering I used to do exactly that. Shut up logic, no one asked you. But I didn’t want was for my intricate web of deceit to be unraveled by some tabloid trash. If my downfall happened, it would be by my own hands, thank you very much.

  “You don’t belong to a cult, do you?” Shit, that would have been a big miss on my part if he was, something like that usually made news. “I’m not going to meet your Grand Chief Hustler who is going to try and convince me to join a pyramid scheme or some wacky religion and wear a Nike tracksuit or something?”

  Or sell vitamins, cleaning materials or some other form of direct selling. I already had a Tupperware problem that I hid away in a dark closet never to be spoken about it public. It was a vulnerable time and I needed plastic containers.

  “Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?” He threw his head back and barked out a throaty laugh.

  “All I’m saying is that I’m not interested in being independently wealthy in three months while alienating all my friends. Plus, I look terrible in sweats.”

  “No, the meeting is with an agent.” He paused as if waiting for a reaction. “He’s a good friend of mine, he doesn’t represent me.” Another pause, my wide-eyed silence prompting him to continue. “But he’s looking for clients. And I got to thinking about what you said about your sister and it made sense.”

  Really. It made sense? Because I was the one who said it and had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Holy fucking shit. An agent?

  “Got you thinking how?” Translation, are you fucking insane?

  “Well, business and family is hard.” It was obvious he was choosing his words carefully. “And she probably means well, but I think you would benefit from someone who you don’t have to see on the holidays. Keep the lines clear.” He then went onto add. “You don’t have to sign with him, just meet him.”

  Sign with him! Sign with him! I felt myself tumbling further down the rabbit hole. And it served me right too. I had done a lot of shit in my time, this however was currently topping the list.

  “I don’t know, Eric.” Oh yes I fucking do, I wanted to say. “This doesn’t sound like a good idea for either of us.”

  And halleluiah I was finally thinking, better late than never.

  “How so?”

  “Well, I already told you I don’t like the idea of using you for stuff like that. If I’m going to be successful, I want to do it on my own, not because of who I know.” Awesome, strong, shows integrity. I could do this.

  “And the last thing I want to do is risk it affecting you in anyway. Say you put your neck out for me and I suck, then people lose credence in your recommendations. It could hurt your brand and that isn’t something I will do.”

  While I was desperately trying to save my own ass from mortification, the sentiment behind all of that was entirely true. I’m an idiot, I’ll own that. But the last thing I would ever do would be to allow anything I did to hurt him in any way. He wasn’t just a guy on the screen anymore. Not just a name in credits. By some strike of out-of-this-world luck I’d had a chance to not only meet him but actually get to know him on some level. And yes, we’d had amazing sex. But for once it wasn’t the most important thing about him. A
nd I wasn’t sure what the most important thing about him was at the moment, but I’d throw myself under a bus before I’d ever allow any of it to touch him.

  “Wow.” His mouth dropped open, his brows almost receding into his hairline.

  “Wow what?” There was no way I could confidently gauge his reaction.

  “You’re the first person I’ve met in the last five years who hasn’t wanted something from me.” His eyes stayed focused on me. “I get it comes with the territory, people wanting you to help them meet someone. Or get them into this party or that audition. Not only have you not asked for anything but you are actively refusing any of my help.”

  “It’s not that I’m ungrateful.” Hell I was beyond stunned he’d even suggested it. There were people I’d known for years who wouldn’t have gone out that far on a limb. “But honestly, I’m fine.”

  “You just keep surprising me, New York.” He smiled, his fingers trailing up my arm. “And that hasn’t happened in a really long time.”

  “Well buckle up, Larsson. I’m not done yet.”

  It seemed like I was moving from one crisis aversion to the next. Not all that different to my life BE (Before Eric) so I was just trying to roll with it. And while I had put the kibosh on all talk of finding me an agent, it seemed that dinner with his pal was still going ahead. Eric wasn’t in New York often, and they were old friends and yada, yada—he had dinner plans.

  Now the decision was did I stay home, hiding in my apartment like a fugitive, or go out and risk getting my photo taken. Rock. Hard place. Both had the capacity to suck.

  Maybe I was being overly cautious. We weren’t officially dating, so I could be anyone. An assistant. His friend’s date. A lawyer. A whole range of possibilities. And as long as there were no PDA’s, who would even know? Wow, I’d worried about it for nothing. Besides, it was New York—no one cared, so why should I?

  A surge of excitement buzzed through my body, the prospect of going out with Eric in public making me giddy. Besides, I was great with people. And I hadn’t left the apartment since Bridget’s birthday. It was going to be awesome.

  “I’m just going to head back to my hotel first and grab some clean clothes.” Eric stood in my bedroom doorway, towel slung low around his waist. “Then I’ll go meet Jack for dinner. You going to wait up for me?”