“There’s not going to be a next one. I’m going to stay quiet and pray it all dies down. That’s our strategy from now on, OK?”
I knew it wasn’t what she wanted, but I was paying her plenty, and in the end she conceded.
That was why, when I picked up my keys a week later, the sense of relief I felt was enormous. My new home signified a new start and a chance to begin again no matter what the current state of my public life was. I was taking the first step toward living the life I wanted to live and that meant owning a house that felt right for me.
There were only a few days left of filming and today was a day off, so I put the time to good use. I left Jay and the rest of the security team to set up in the garage and spent the morning unpacking the boxes of essential items I’d had sent over.
It would have made sense to start in the kitchen but the library had some sort of supernatural pull on me. It turned out I only had enough books for the first set of shelves. There was so much space I’d have to add to my collection and wouldn't that be hardship? I’d just finished putting the last book in the shelf in front of me when I heard steps coming down the hall.
I turned and my mouth dropped open.
“Nice digs you’ve got here, Princess. Suits you.”
Flustered, I straightened and brushed imaginary dust off my jeans. “Marc. What are you doing here?”
“Came along with Kaden for the ride. He’s out there with Jay.”
“Oh, of course.” How long had it been since I’d seen him? Three, four weeks maybe? I was finding it hard to think straight.
It felt like both forever and only yesterday since I’d last seen him. And I didn’t quite understand why my heart was pounding so hard in my chest.
“Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee?” I offered, not sure what else to do.
“Relax. I just came to have a look.”
He wandered into the room and the library didn’t seem quite so big as it had only a moment ago. He looked good. He was dressed casually today. Black jeans, black shirt and black leather jacket. I inhaled the scent of the leather mixed with the spice and mint I’d come to associate with him.
He nodded at the bookcases. “You’ll have a hard time filling these shelves.” The same way I’d done, he ran a finger along the spines of the books. “You have eclectic taste.”
“I prefer to think of myself as widely read.”
His soft laughter made me swallow.
“I’m sorry about your father.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything.
“It’s a brutal illness,” he said, matter-of-factly. He walked over to the French doors to take in the view, his back to me. “I’ve seen too many good men taken down by it.”
I had the feeling he’d seen too many good men taken down in other ways too, but didn’t say that. “It takes down those around them, too.”
He turned and regarded me, his eyes hard. “I know. In our case, it usually goes hand in hand with PTSD and we want to forget. You can never forget.”
I had the urge to go over and touch him, instead I clasped my fingers behind my back. “I’m sorry.”
Marc was still watching me. “I tried it for a while.”
“What?”
His twisted frown hinted at pain. “Drinking. I wanted to drown in it but I’m a mean drunk, or so Kaden tells me. He sorted me out. Besides, weed’s more my thing.”
“Weed?” I tried not to smile. The thought of Marc zoned out on weed, relaxed and carefree, was something I’d pay to see.
He smirked. “Medicinal, of course.”
“Of course.”
We stood looking at each other, not talking. The moment he’d stepped into the room I’d become aware of an ache, but it wasn’t my shoulder, it was in my chest. It was like something had been missing and now that it was here in front of me, close enough to touch, I was filled with a painful longing.
Without thinking about it, I reached up and touched my shoulder as if I didn’t quite believe it wasn’t hurting.
His gaze followed my hand. “How is it?”
“Oh. My shoulder? Getting better. I don’t need the sling anymore but it still aches from time to time and I probably overdid it today.”
“Probably.”
I sucked in my breath as he stepped forward and closed the distance between us. Instead of stopping a respectable distance away, he came right up close. His long fingers reached up and took my wrist and I wondered if he could feel my pulse throbbing in my veins.
He lowered my arm and with his other hand, he pushed the edge of my shirt aside so he could see my shoulder.
I felt light-headed but tried not to show it. “Marc?”
He brushed his thumb along the scar and I shuddered.
“You can feel that?”
I nodded, too scared to speak.
His lip curled and I wanted so badly to reach over and touch him.
“Thought anymore about a tattoo?”
“I can’t decide what to get,” I lied.
He grinned then and I felt lost, so desperately lost.
“Maybe you’re not a tattoo girl after all.”
“No, I don’t think so. Aaron said you don’t talk about Afghanistan much.”
He was still tracing my scar with his thumb as if he was fascinated with it. He didn’t take his eyes off my shoulder but I saw the lines in his forehead deepen. “Not much. Only people I trust.”
I had no choice but to put a hand out behind me and steady myself on the bookshelves. His thumb stilled and his eyes met mine.
“You trust me?” I whispered.
“Yeah. I guess I do.”
“Why?”
“Damned if I can figure it out. You trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His eyes darkened with intent. “Then you need to trust me when I tell you I can’t work for you anymore.”
“You can’t?”
“No. You’ll have to use someone else from now on.”
“But you’re the best. And Kaden—”
“Shh.” His thumb brushed my lips and I fought a whimper, the memory of Kaden’s warning instantly slipping away.
“You once told me, ‘In your dreams, Romero.’”
I blinked and somehow through my daze recalled that moment in my trailer when my heart had been pounding much like it was now. I winced. “Yes, but—”
“Am I dreaming?”
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. Standing here in my new house with a man who could make me feel things so deep and unexpected by merely brushing his thumb across my shoulders or lips—I could well have been dreaming. It was all so unfamiliar yet right at the same time. “If I am, I don’t want to wake up.”
“Neither do I.”
Chapter 29
Marc looked at me for the longest time.
Ally had once said he had the sort of eyes that could see everything, and that was how I felt right now. Vulnerable and exposed, my soul stripped bare.
When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I licked my lips because my throat felt dry. “Marc?”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “You got the cameras set up in here yet?”
“No. Why?”
“Good.” His hands came down to rest on my hips and he pushed me gently against the bookcase.
My eyes widened and I must have look panicked because he cupped my face with a palm and stroked my cheek with his thumb tenderly—so tenderly, it surprised me.
“Relax. I don’t bite.” He swept his eyes over me then cocked his head to one side. “Much.”
“Kiss me,” I blurted, and felt my face redden. How was it I was an actress known for my poise and sophistication, yet right now I felt like an awkward teenager?
His thumb continued to stroke my cheek. I took a shuddering breath and leaned into his hand.
“I plan to,” he said, his deep voice soft. “Just figuring out my strategy.”
“Strategy?” I breathed. What on earth? The man was killing m
e.
“Yeah. I didn’t come here today planning for this.”
“Plans change.” I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just acted.
I grabbed his hips and pulled him to me, crushing him against me. The bookshelf dug into my back, but I hardly noticed. The feeling of his hard, muscular chest against me filled me with a sense of relief, but only for a moment. I needed more. So much more.
Up close his dark brown eyes appeared brighter. Like the dark shadows had been chased away, and for once I was able to see the emotion swirling in them. Amusement. Fondness. Hunger. And perhaps a lingering hint of wariness.
His thumb slipped under my chin and tipped my face toward his.
“What’s your strategy now, Romero?”
“How about we start with this?”
He brushed his lips against mine. It was just the merest touch, but I was helpless and glad of the support of the bookcase behind me.
I don’t know why I had thought he’d eat me up. Maybe it was his training, but I could feel him measuring my reaction before he planned his next move. His level of restraint was intoxicating.
“More,” I whispered.
He ducked his head and took his time to taste. Agonizingly soft pressure against my mouth and gentle nips, seducing me with the promise of what was to come.
I wound my hands behind his neck and used my tongue to take a tentative taste. His deep groan was all the encouragement I needed. I opened myself to him, inviting him to take whatever he wanted and his tongue darted into my mouth, his restraint gone.
In one easy move, he picked me up and set me on the empty bookcase beside us. I’d removed the shelves earlier to dust them and now it acted as a seat. I wrapped my legs around him and trembled at his hardness pressed against me.
His hand cradled my neck and eased my head back. A whisper of lips and a caress of his tongue trailed down my neck. I felt him kiss my scar, then his hands found their way under my T-shirt and lifted it over my head.
He contemplated my half-naked form with dark eyes that smoldered, then put his hands either side of me on the shelf. He dipped his head down and dragged his bottom lip against the exposed flesh of my cleavage. And again on the other side.
The bra felt suffocating and much too tight, and I found myself fumbling behind me to remove it. When it came free, Marc slipped it off and I heard it fall to the floor.
He wasn’t touching me, but his gaze was enough to set me on fire, and for a brief second I recalled the acrid smell of smoke.
“I dreamed of you that night,” I confessed.
He met my eyes and I saw the question in them.
“The night of the fire. When you rescued me.”
He nodded once, then reached out and took my hands. He tugged gently and I was drawn forward to a standing position. He turned, a hand still in mine, and pulled me toward the lone chaise sitting in the center of the room. I’d brought it over from my estate knowing it would be perfect for my new library.
“Lie down.”
He let go of my hand and I lay down, my shoulders against the backrest.
He stood above me, watchful. “You’re like a work of art. If it didn’t kill me so much to share you with the world, I’d have you painted like this.”
I sucked in a sharp breath at the meaning of his words, the possessive tone of his voice—everything.
He straddled me on the lounge, making me glad it was an expensive recreation instead of a priceless antique. He cupped my breast with a hand and teased it to a taut peak with his thumb. I arched up beneath him, aching for him. He bowed his head and his tongue made me cry out.
“Please,” I moaned, not sure what I was begging for. To put me out of my misery? To devour me?
He raised his head, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”
He undid the zip on my jeans roughly and pulled them down, taking my panties with them. His eyes were like molten coal as he worked them down my legs and dropped them onto the floor.
“You’re still dressed,” I said.
He ripped the T-shirt over his head so it joined my jeans and I stared at him. God, he was beautiful. So much of him was hard—rigid muscle and firm planes of smooth skin I wanted to run my hands over. But now I knew underneath that protective shell was a man I wanted to get to know.
He straddled me again, still wearing his jeans.
“Marc?”
“Not yet. I want to know if you dreamed of this.”
I groaned as his tongue left a trail along my inner thighs and found me wet and ready. I gripped his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his bare skin.
“Sorry,” I mumbled half-heartedly.
“I can take it. Hold on.”
I cried out as his tongue found me again. Slowly, I felt two fingers slip inside me and instinctively angled myself to take him deeper. He increased the pace of his tongue but the rhythm of his fingers was slow and leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world.
I held back a sob, my fingernails grazing his back.
He ignored me, or maybe he didn’t, because he didn’t let up and I finally understood what it meant to have the intensity of Marc’s focus directed at me.
The world receded and we were the only two people in it, but I wasn’t sure I was alive anymore. I was a mass of quivering muscles and sensitive nerve endings and still I wanted more and Marc was determined to give it. Warmth built in my core, a pleasant sensation that transformed into something more dangerous. It flared, sparked, then burned, heating me from within.
I yelped and pushed my face into the side of the chaise, muffling the sound as everything burst around me, feeling flames lick my skin. A wave of pleasure so close to pain washed over me, and it felt as though I’d been doused in it, reduced to molten glass, delicate and without form.
Marc held me fast and stayed silent even though my nails threatened to pierce his skin.
When I caught my breath and everything came back into focus, I immediately released my grip on his shoulders.
I looked at him, shocked and dazed.
He sat up and his gaze roamed over my naked body. “Princess?”
“Marc.” It was about the only thing I was capable of saying.
“More?”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up and his low laughter hit me hard in the belly.
“Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got?” he teased.
“No, of course not, I just need a—” I’d been about to ask him to give me a moment to recover, but stiffened at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. “Marc,” I hissed.
Oh my God. What the hell had I been doing? Jay could have walked in at any time, or even worse, Kaden.
“I got it.”
He hopped off me easily, scooping his T-shirt from the floor and shrugging it over his head as he walked to the door. He turned while still walking and gave me a disarming grin.
“Take your time, Princess, then come out the front when you’re ready.”
He disappeared down the hall, leaving me staring after him.
It was the first time I ever recalled seeing Marc Romero with a spring in his step.
Chapter 30
I waited at least ten minutes before heading out the front.
I found the men talking in the garage and the conversation stopped when I entered.
“Lena.” Kaden nodded at me.
“Hi Aaron. Are you happy with everything?”
“For now.” He gestured to the screens lined up against the wall, which would soon be connected to various security cameras around my property and in my house. “It will be better when the gatehouse is done and Jay can move out of here.”
I was careful not to look at Marc. “That’s fine. As long as it works in the meantime.”
“It will.”
There was no possible way he could have known what had just happened between Marc and I in the library, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable once the gatehouse was finished. Well, as comfortabl
e as a person could feel when there were cameras everywhere.
“Jay tells me you’re having a party in a couple of weeks?” Aaron said ‘party’ like it was a dirty word.
“Just an end-of-production gathering with some of the cast and crew.”
“I can’t convince you to forget the idea?”
“Why?”
Kaden glanced over at Marc. “Letting a lot of people into your home is never a good idea. It exposes you.”
I paused before I answered, wanting to give his recommendation the respect it deserved. “I appreciate that, but this new house is a home and I intend to live in it like it’s one.”
“I’m not suggesting you can never hold a party, just that with the way things are right now it might be better not to.”
“The way things are right now?” I echoed. “For as long as I’m famous, there’s always going to be something, so I’m planning to host this party.”
Kaden opened his mouth but Marc shot him a sharp look and Kaden stayed quiet.
He sighed. “Can we help you out with security on the night?”
“That’s up to Jay. He can talk to you about our requirements if you like.”
“I’ll give you a call later in the week once Lena’s confirmed the guest list,” Jay told him.
With a furtive glance at Marc I smiled, thanked Kaden and said my goodbyes. As much as I wanted to be near Marc, they had a job to do and I didn’t see the point in hovering.
Marc caught my arm as I went to leave the garage. “Got a sec?”
I nodded and he followed me into the house. I could feel Kaden and Jay’s eyes on us as we went inside but acted like Marc’s request was entirely normal.
Marc closed the door behind us and we walked down the hall into the kitchen.
I turned when I reached the counter and jumped because he was right behind me. “Marc! Don’t sneak up on me!”
“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t look it. He caught my hands and pulled me to him.
He kissed me deeply until my toes tingled and I reluctantly broke away.
I cast a concerned look down the hall. “Marc, we can’t—”
“I know. I just wanted to give you this. It’s what I came here for in the first place.” He dug a hand into his back jean pocket and pressed a folded envelope into my hand. “For you.”
Heartbreaker (Hollywood Hearts Book 2) Page 19
