“I’m sure your boss won’t mind you hanging out here as long as I keep eating his food.” He took another piece from the tray. “How have you been?”
It should have been an easy question to answer. For most people it would be, but not for her. And especially not talking to him. All the things she wanted to say were the very things she needed to keep shut inside. Because regardless of what she’d been told, her first instinct with Dante had always been to tell him everything, to trust him, to let him be her rock.
She’d met him a few months before her wedding. She’d gone to visit Evan, and he’d been working out with Dante. They’d talked, she’d been drawn to him, and she’d left, thinking nothing of it. For a couple weeks, she kept running into him, whether alone or out with Brandon. And it was always the same. She’d tried to write it off as just a burgeoning new friendship that might have been more flirty than necessary, but nothing worse than that. Then suddenly Evan had told her to keep her distance.
“Dante’s bad news, Vicky. He’s my best friend, but you’re going to get married soon, and you know what they say about wrestlers.”
She hadn’t, but she found out. The stories were many and terribly unvaried. Women threw themselves at professional wrestlers, and most of them took advantage as often as they could. It didn’t matter if she was single, dating, married…any woman was fair game.
Sure, Dante had moved from wrestling to acting and made the transition better than anyone in Hollywood had expected—his natural charisma drawing in more people than just Vicky—but according to Evan, he was the stereotype. And she was falling prey to it, whether she meant to or not.
That was the last thing she’d wanted in her life when she’d been on the verge of getting married. And it was about the last thing she needed now that she was divorced, no matter how much part of her yearned for him still. Even if sex with him would be amazing—and she had no doubts about that—she wanted a man in her bed for one night. Dante was too much drama, too much of something she’d want forever. With how she felt around him, she’d be sucked in and left with her heart broken all over again when he moved on to the next pretty, shiny thing.
Answering the question at last, she said, “Married, no kids, divorced, moved into my own place, making a go of the single life, and debating switching teams because women are less trouble.” That covered all the pertinent details without getting personal at all. Too bad she had to bite her lip to keep from spewing about how lonely she was, from telling him all the horrible things Brandon had said to her over the years, how afraid she was that he’d been right about her all along.
“Funny, you never struck me as a switch hitter.” He winked, seemingly oblivious, and grabbed another crostini. “Let’s see, to catch you up as quickly…five movies, two more on the way, reality TV series, started a charity, three new tattoos, and a piercing. Speaking of tattoos, have you gotten one of your own yet?”
Tattoos. Maybe she could talk about that since he clearly remembered how much she’d liked his, how she’d traced them with her fingers that day at the gym. She saw the edge of flames peeking from beneath his shirtsleeve and had to clench her fist to keep from reaching out. There was no way she could encourage him to show her more—that would involve fewer clothes and a lot more trouble. She had to answer the question, at least, but more than that was dangerous territory.
And focusing on his professional accomplishments would only serve to remind her exactly how lacking her own life had turned out to be in that area. He’d use that to suck her into a much longer conversation, and she needed to get away from him—mainly because she wanted to get closer.
Maybe the other option would shut him down, make him think her interest had disappeared after so much time. Anyone else would believe it. “Piercing? I’ve never much been a fan of jewelry on a guy.”
…
Vicky might have been saying all the things designed to push him away, but she hadn’t left. And more than that, she had checked him out, her gaze lingering on his biceps. Dante was just nice enough to pretend not to notice. He wasn’t, however, nice enough to let that little jab go without one of his own. “Don’t worry, Vicks, I only show the piercing to women I really like, if you get my meaning.”
Her gaze shot to his chest. Interesting that she’d think nipples first. Grinning, he leaned toward her and whispered, “You might want to aim a little lower with that X-ray vision.”
She tipped her head as if she were going to look at the growing bulge in his jeans, but then snapped it back up. “Yeah. Well, I’m sure the kind of women who flock to you love that sort of thing.”
It was almost like the rest of the party had disappeared, and for a moment it was just the two of them, poking at each other. They’d done this when they’d first met, though the snark had been a little less biting then. “Funny, I don’t see any birds hovering or diving—just you.”
For a long minute, she stood there, staring at him, her breath coming quicker with every second, a flush rising on her tanned skin. Then a voice snapped from behind her, “Stone! Back to work.”
Vicky started, as if waking from a dream, spun on her heel, and took off into the crowd. “Sorry, Mr. Collins.” She didn’t even bother to say good-bye. Dante might have been upset if he hadn’t caught her looking back his way a second later.
Hopefully her boss wouldn’t notice the same thing. Dante grinned at the guy and held up the last crostini he’d snagged. God, he really didn’t want any more of the damn things. “Sorry about that. I was trying to figure out how many of these I could eat before I had to up my workout tomorrow.”
“Oh, Mr. Palladino, I didn’t realize she was talking to you. Mathew Collins, owner of Elegant Entertainment.” Dante shook his proffered hand, then the guy straightened his tie and stepped toward the kitchen. “If you like, I’ll get the nutritional information and bring it right back.”
“Not necessary, since my crostini crack dealer has disappeared. Thanks, though.”
“If there’s anything else you need…”
Really, all he wanted was an express ticket to the end of the party. The only reason he’d come was because the host was producing his next movie. Industry politics. Yay. “A bottle of water would be great, if you can point me in the right direction.”
The guy dipped his bleached-blond head. “I’ll be right back with one, Mr. Palladino.” He was gone a second later.
Dante hated when people did this—bowed and scraped like he controlled their next paycheck. He was just a guy who’d clawed his way from nothing and gotten lucky with his career moves more times than he could count. Not that he’d go back and change many things, but he wasn’t the kind of star who liked being pandered to. He’d fly coach if not for the fact he took up too much room. Him in those seats was an imposition to anyone sitting next to him. But he could sure as hell pick up a damn water bottle.
The guy was back in less than a minute, handed over the water, and then took off as some other party-related emergency grabbed his attention.
Just as well. Dante didn’t really feel like chatting. He made his way from the perch against the wall to a similar spot across the room and watched as Vicky passed through the crowd, offering food or glasses of champagne.
Five years. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her in five years, ever since the moment Evan had told him she’d asked for him to leave her alone. She was getting married and his flirting made her uncomfortable.
He hadn’t actually meant to flirt at all, but when he found someone he enjoyed talking to, his gregarious nature took over. To some women, being friendly meant flirting. The problem was, in hindsight, he realized he had been flirting with Vicky. Not only had he liked her, but after he met the guy she was going to marry, he’d wanted to do anything he could to keep them apart. Her fiancé had been an ass—the kind that ogled other women while Vicky was talking to someone. The kind that treated her like some sort of pretty accessory rather than the smart, vivacious beauty she was.
Maybe D
ante didn’t deserve her, but she sure as hell had deserved better than that joker.
He’d never been so happy to hear about someone’s divorce as he had been when he found out about Vicky. But he hadn’t tracked her down afterward or anything. Stay away still meant stay away as far as he was concerned. But then she’d been here, and he’d been here. It was like fate had decided to open a window of opportunity.
Too bad Dante had no clue who was supposed to climb through it or in which direction. All he knew was he didn’t want it to close before they found out where the path outside it led.
Chapter Two
The party had officially ended two hours ago. One hour for cleanup while attendees made their way to guest rooms or their vehicles. As soon as party staff was officially released, Vicky pulled her car into the darkest corner she could find…and waited. It seemed like forever before Mathew came out. So long, in fact, that she’d started to wonder if he wasn’t breaking the rules about fraternizing as well.
Though technically speaking, a one-night stand wasn’t really fraternizing. That would imply some sort of ongoing relationship—as friends or otherwise—and she had no doubt if she really got to know Reed, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Nope. This was a one-time thing to get her over the post-divorce sex hump and on her way to complete freedom. As an added bonus, he wasn’t the kind of guy to leave her with visions of happily ever after in her future. She’d likely see him in the tabloids by the end of the week with some new woman on his arm, proving that she was better off on her own. He was the perfect answer to all her problems.
A much safer answer than Dante could ever be.
When Mathew’s car finally drove out through the gate, Vicky let herself breathe a sigh of relief. She stepped into the night air again, the light breeze blowing up her too-short skirt, and wondered if she should take a few minutes to throw on some fresh lipstick or something.
Don’t be stupid. He’s just looking to get laid, too. It’s not like he cares how much effort you put in. He picked you up while you were balancing foie gras on a tray, for crying out loud.
She was overthinking this. It was just sex. She’d been having sex since high school. Surely she could manage this. Slowly, she skirted the mansion, aware of people who had taken the party to some of the upstairs balconies. Fortunately they seemed busy enough they wouldn’t notice her.
The slider was indeed unlocked, and though it squealed a little upon opening, no one came running to see who it was. Clearly on party nights, Saul Mortensen recognized people would be going in and out and therefore trusted his security to the men running the gate.
Shit. They’re going to see me leave, and it’s not like my Acura is exactly the thing a celebrity would drive.
There was no way around that issue, though. Leaving now, she was still lingering later than she should have.
In for a penny, in for a pound…
Third door on the right. Third door on the right. She counted softly as she walked. In front of the door, she paused. Was she supposed to knock? That seemed like a stupid idea, one guaranteed to draw someone’s attention.
He’d invited her. Better to just walk in.
With a quick glance down the hall in both directions, she eased open the door, slipped inside, and shut it behind her. The click was so quiet, no one should have heard a sound.
Including Reed.
The room was incredibly dark, with heavy drapes pulled shut over most of the windows. Only the far ones were left open, allowing the moon to cast a dim glow over a sitting area consisting of two chairs and a small table. Turning away, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. A still form lay on the bed.
Had he fallen asleep? She really didn’t know protocol for a situation like this. He’d invited her to come back to his room, but was she supposed to wake him or did asleep mean he’d given up and wasn’t interested anymore?
For a moment, she considered leaving, but then she remembered her timeline. Jade would ask tomorrow what, if anything, had happened, and it would be really nice to be able to say the deed was done and their deal was finished.
“Screw it,” she muttered to the air. If Reed had planned on her being here by a certain time, he damn well should have said so.
She toed off her shoes, laid her purse on the little table, and unbuttoned her blouse. The next question hit. Did she strip down to nothing or just go for easy access? Considering he was already sleeping, she wasn’t banking on more than a quickie anyway, so she decided to go for the latter. Panties off, everything else on. At least she’d worn a cute bra tonight, one with lace edging and a little extra lift. Untucking her shirt, she let it hang open.
Good enough.
The closer she came to his sleeping form, the more her heart started to race. Breathing became more difficult than it had any right to be. Who would have thought approaching a one-night stand would have her getting so excited that her nipples were starting to pucker? While most people didn’t think of casual sex as taboo anymore, she still did. This was a journey into the unknown for her. Then again, pretty much everything after the divorce had been. Two years was the longest she’d been single since she was old enough to date. She’d never lived alone. She’d never done her own damn taxes. If she could pull off all that, surely she could climb into bed with a hot man who wanted to have sex with her.
Sleepy seduction. One would think she’d have learned how to do this by now, but it had never really been something her ex was interested in. Wetting her lips, she slid under the covers.
Reed was completely naked. She could feel the press of his bare hip against her thighs, and she shivered. Jade was right, it had been far too long, and she was ready to give him the wake-up call of a lifetime.
Vicky splayed her hand on his chest, reveling in those muscles she’d longed to touch. She knew actors stayed in shape, but this was intense. Even resting as he was, she could feel the change from one set of muscles to the next. He shifted, the leg she’d felt earlier sliding between hers. If she moved just a little, she could rub against him and ease a little bit of the ache building in her clit. She’d really prefer him to do that, though; she’d been taking care of her own needs long enough.
She planted kisses along his chest as her hand inched lower.
He stirred at last. “What the…?”
“Shh, it’s just me.”
“Vicky?”
Like he’d invited a bunch of women to his room tonight and had to guess which one had actually shown up? Sure. If he’d invited other guests, they’d still be here, and she’d watched the rest of the staff leave without a backward glance. “Who else would it be?”
“I thought you weren’t interested,” he mumbled, his voice still thick and heavy with sleep.
“You thought wrong.” Her lips started to follow the path of her hand, lower and lower on his abdomen, shifting the blankets off both of them. Her fingers raked over his happy trail and wrapped around his shaft. He was huge—big enough she thanked God for the toys Jade had bought her to “keep in shape” with.
Her breath started coming faster as she thought about taking him between her lips. The idea of bringing him fully awake that way had her more excited than she wanted to admit. Imagining him bolting upright as she took him deep into her mouth…
What the…?
She’d been sliding her hand along his length, and this time she’d decided to play with his head a little. Only…there was something there. Two little metal balls. Reed Russell had a penis piercing?
…
Dante had been sound asleep, dreaming of Vicky. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first in a long time. Seeing her tonight had brought back every inch of his desire for her. In his dream, she’d come to his room and curled up next to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Which was why, when he felt a presence in his bed, he didn’t think it was real.
He was even more certain his imagination was fucking with him when he discovered it was her
. Then her hand had wrapped around his cock, and he thought he’d died and gone to some strange sinner’s heaven.
She started toying with his apadravya piercing, and shivers raced through his body. That, combined with the idea of being inside her and hearing her call his name as she tightened around him, was almost enough to make him come on the spot. He rolled toward her, wrapping her in his arms. “I told you I only showed the piercing to women I really liked.”
Her movements paused for a second, and then she jerked back, thrusting his arms away. In her haste to move, she rolled out of the bed and hit the floor with a thud. “Son of a bitch!”
Dante flicked on the light next to the bed. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
She pushed herself onto her arms, her shirt falling open to reveal a lacy bra that removed the need for what little bit of imagination he’d utilized for those dreams. A crimson flush raced up her tan skin, coloring her neck and spreading to her cheeks. “I… It’s just… You’re you, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Vicks, I was me when you snuck in my room and crawled into bed with me.” The stammering had been cute, but she had the deer-in-the-headlights look that he knew would have her bolting from the room if he didn’t calm her down.
When she stood, her skirt rode up, flashing him a view of her ass that removed even more need for imagination. She had the most adorable birthmark—a slightly darker patch of skin shaped almost like a heart. Damn, was there an inch of her that wasn’t perfect? Then she yanked on the fabric, promptly removing the temptation to see how well she fit in his hands. She bit her lip, and the red in her cheeks went even darker. “You were supposed to be Reed. He said this was his room.”
Reed? Dante blinked, trying to put two and two together. No matter how much he worked at it, though, the answer didn’t make sense. “Reed Russell?”
Blackmailed by the Hero Page 2
