She writhed under the assault, whimpering, moaning, pleading—not for him to stop but for him to make her orgasm. “Please, please…”
He traced the curve of her breasts with the marabou. “Come on, babe. Say it. Tell me all the ways you want me to make you mine.”
There were no other words, though. She tried to make them come, but it was as if her brain couldn’t get past that one syllable. Anything else came out as sound with no meaning. She was so wet she was sure it was soaking the bed.
She hadn’t even realized Evan had stopped using the tickler until his mouth covered her nipple, sucking on it gently. She arched her back and let out a groan of need.
“It’s okay, babe. You can tell me later.”
He thrust into her, and Stasia screamed her release as all the pent-up desire crashed around them. She rode the waves of her orgasm as he continued pumping in and out of her. It seemed impossible, but he was going to bring her again, she already felt it building.
How was she supposed to walk away from this? From him? From a guy who brought her to life like no one else ever had? She needed to tell him how she felt.
Her breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps as the second orgasm threatened to take hold. “Evan?”
“Babe?” His voice was little more than a growl, but the word was still clear.
“I think—” She could barely catch a breath as he ground his hips against hers. Then he pulled back and thrust again. “I think I’m fa—”
The orgasm stole her breath as it gripped her. Muscles contracted around Evan’s cock, and two thrusts later, he came with a throaty cry.
She was still shaking and trying to suck in air when he collapsed next to her. With gentle hands, he untied her wrists, planting kisses on them. “Shh, babe, just get your breath back.” Then his phone sounded with Jessica’s ringtone, and he sighed, kissing Stasia softly. “Whatever it was, you can tell me later. Duty calls.”
He climbed from the bed to get his phone, and Stasia wondered if she could manage to work up the nerve to broach the topic again. There had to be a way. She only needed to keep an eye out for the right opportunity.
…
Evan wished he could get Stasia out of here. Whatever she claimed to have seen on Lissa’s face yesterday was gone. Lissa and Paul spoke in hushed tones on the edge of the makeshift set, but there wasn’t any hostility toward each other in their gestures or faces. Instead, Lissa kept smoothing down the skirt of her dress. Was it Evan’s imagination or were her clothes getting more unflattering as the week wore on?
He wasn’t the only one confused by the turn of events. Stasia’s eyes kept darting toward them, her brows knitting together.
This was going to be hell for her, even more than yesterday had been. It was up close and personal, with cameras watching their every move and no podium to hide behind. Evan cupped her face and smoothed his thumbs over her eyebrows until she relaxed. “It’s going to be fine. Nothing has changed. We’re the ridiculously happy couple going on camera to show that to the world.”
She managed a smile, but it was sad for reasons he couldn’t fathom. “I know. All part of the show, and the show must go on.”
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
The desperation in her eyes tore at him. It wasn’t the sorrow she’d worn when they’d first met, but it came in a close second to expressions he never wanted to see on her face. “You can tell me anything.”
She opened her mouth, but it shut with an audible snap of her teeth when Paul Travers clapped the two of them on the back.
He was all camera-ready smiles. “It’s time to get started. Stasia, do you want me to call someone in to touch up your makeup, you’re looking a little pale.”
“Back off, Travers.” Evan wrapped an arm around her waist and led her toward the couch on the little stage. He whispered in her hair, “Don’t let him get to you. You look gorgeous. Now what were you going to say?”
She shook her head and gave another sad smile. “Crappy timing. It can wait.”
“This can’t.” He tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss barely moved past anything chaste, but it still lit his nerve endings on fire. When they parted, stars danced in her eyes and her real smile was back. Travers had lied—she wasn’t pale; she was luminous. Pressing kisses to her knuckles, Evan let her sink into the lush cordovan leather before settling next to her and resting his arm along the back, making sure to keep contact with her. He hadn’t failed to notice how much strength she derived from touch—it was one of the things he adored about her. Too many women in his past only wanted to be touched for sex or the cameras. With Stasia, he didn’t have to worry about keeping his hands to himself. She liked the contact as much as he did.
Paul’s face had gone stony for a second, but it didn’t last, especially not when Lissa said, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, affection like that seems to be the norm for our guests today. Please welcome the star of the upcoming film, The Game Maker. The Time Phantom himself, Evan Stone, and his fiancée, Stasia Grant!”
A crowd had gathered, adding their applause to the pre-recorded clapping that would be added later. Normally, Evan preferred live audiences. They tended to be at tapings because they loved his work. This situation was a little different, and he hoped none of the people around them would jump on the leaked sex video. Grinning for the cameras, he said, “Thanks, Lissa. It’s great to be here.” He pulled Stasia closer, hugging her to his side. “We’ve been having a whirlwind week, but I wouldn’t give up time spent with Stasia for anything.”
Stasia turned adoring eyes at him and then blushed and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “He’s a sweet-talker. It takes a little getting used to.”
Lissa blinked a couple times before responding. “I can see that. You realize your engagement came as a shock to…pretty much everyone. Evan, what made you decide to give up the freedom of single life for Stasia?”
“That’s easy. She makes me a better person.” He tipped his head toward the crowd and their chorus of sniggers and awws. “Before Stasia, I would have spent all night clubbing and getting myself in trouble—too much of which the world already knows about. Since I met her…” He let out a little sigh without meaning to. “We go out, have fun, then we go home together. I love waking up next to her and never knowing what’s going to come out of her mouth. Do you know she taught me how to finally play Skee Ball this week?” The crowd laughed. “It’s true! She makes me feel like none of my past matters—only the future I’m going to have with her.”
Stasia’s hand clenched into a fist next to his leg, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d said wrong. Then Travers spoke up. “That’s wonderful, Evan. To you, Stasia, most of our viewers don’t know you very well. Those of us who do know you have always seen you as the reporter who followed a very strict path of righteousness. How did you see beyond Evan’s…dalliances?”
The insult in his question wasn’t even remotely veiled. Evan kind of hoped Stasia would jump all over the asshole, but given how timid Travers usually made her, he didn’t expect it. She managed to surprise him when she snuggled closer and smiled. “You know, it’s funny how you can let someone steer you onto a path that was never yours to begin with. It’s easy to get stuck there, especially when it’s a bad fit. Evan showed me I wasn’t actually stuck, that the whole world was open to me, if I just got out of that rut and reached for something better. As for his past? It never occurred to me to judge him on any of the rumors, lies, or even truth from before he met me. The man he is now is the one I care about.”
The interview could have ended there. It would have been perfect. But it wasn’t a long enough segment as it was, so Lissa kept talking. “Your ring is absolutely gorgeous, by the way.”
Stasia fiddled with it again and lights flashed on the facets. “Thank you. After questions about the ring when we got here, Evan wanted to make sure it was something astronauts could use as
a landing beacon in case of emergency.”
The crowd laughed, and Travers glared at her, clearly remembering it was his question that had set off the ring buying. Evan only wished she liked the thing more; he should have taken her taste into consideration rather than just the shock and awe value.
Travers cleared his throat. “Yes, the two of you have done a lot of shopping since your arrival in Vegas. Stasia, how does that fit with your frugal nature?”
This time she did bristle a bit, but she didn’t hide from the question, either. “My frugal nature has to do with spending outside one’s means, Paul. Custom Italian suits on a Men’s Wearhouse budget. That sort of thing. Evan and I have discussed finances, and I have no concerns that he’s overextending himself. Granted, some things are still uncomfortable for me, but I’m getting there. Again, I’m not used to being treated like a princess. It’s a bit of an adjustment.”
For every dig Travers got in, Stasia let a barb of her own fly. It was beautiful to watch. Like seeing a butterfly emerge from a cocoon—only this one was deadly.
Lissa dragged attention away from the battle going on between the exes. “What else do you two have on your agenda leading up to the premiere?”
Evan took over, letting Stasia off the hook for remembering their schedule. “Today, I’m doing a meet and greet most of the afternoon—Vegas has a very large Time Phantom fan club. We have a cast dinner tonight that’ll probably go until late. Tomorrow, we have an appearance at the Mob Museum, and then I was thinking about dragging Stasia to one of my favorite low-key bars before we call it a night. The day of the premiere is going to be an entirely new experience for her, and I don’t want her too tired to enjoy it.”
“So, no window sex that night?” Travers’s question made a hush fall over the room. The only sound came from the distant clanging and whistles of the casino.
Evan wanted to jump across the space separating them and pummel Travers. Stasia, on the other hand, laughed. The sound was too high-pitched, and a little bitter, but it was a laugh that shattered the stillness rather than his fist breaking Travers’s nose. Her nails dug into his leg as she clearly fought to keep herself on top of the conversation. He was incredibly proud of the way she kept standing up to her ex, even if it remained a battle. “I’d like to say we learned our lesson there, but I could be wrong. Should I have someone specific on speed dial in case we decide to go for another show?”
Her eyes were locked on Travers’s face the whole time she spoke. He saw it, and by her expression, Lissa saw it, too. Which meant the cameras would pick it up. Judging by the murmurs from the audience, they were confused, but a quick Google search by a couple interested parties would bring enough into the open for them to put the pieces together.
Soon enough, everyone would be talking about how Evan Stone’s fiancée’s ex-husband had been the one to hire the photographer. Even if Jessica never found a way to bring him down for it, this moment could do a lot of damage. And Paul Travers had brought it completely on himself.
Lissa cleared her throat. “I’m sure the person or people responsible for that incident will think twice before going after a beautiful, and clearly, very happy, couple again. Thank you both for your time today, and I’m looking forward to the premiere. Evan Stone and Stasia Grant, everyone!”
Evan helped Stasia to her feet, nodding to the audience. Normally, he’d have made a point of shaking hands with the reporters, but he was still too angry with Travers. He didn’t want to risk causing a scene, so he led Stasia off the stage, shaking hands instead with the audience members who had stuck around.
Stasia’s finger hooked in his belt loop, and she smiled at him. They’d done what they set out for with the interview, and she understood his need for physical contact as much as he understood hers. If ever there was a couple who should have had a fighting chance, it was the two of them.
Looking in her eyes, he wished there was a way.
But she hadn’t wanted anything more, and he couldn’t give it to her—maybe someday, but not now—no matter how much a big part of him wanted to.
Chapter Twelve
Last night had been torture. Every time Stasia had tried to talk to Evan, someone else had come over to chat with one or both of them. She’d figured out earlier in the week that someone was always up in a celebrity’s business, but not getting five minutes alone was ridiculous. By the time they’d gone back to the suite, they’d both been exhausted—not exactly the best time to bring up the fact that she was falling in love with him.
This morning hadn’t proven any better. She’d woken to find Evan in the main room of the suite—with Jessica. Even though Stasia had been in nothing but a robe, the tiny redhead had come right over and embraced her, saying what a wonderful job she’d been doing with everything that had been thrown at her this week. Too bad Stasia hadn’t been anywhere near prepared to deal with a third wheel today.
It wasn’t until they entered the Mob Museum that Jessica fell behind…and then the cameras immediately began following them. The museum had brokered a deal with the movie studio to have Evan do a piece for movie promotion as well as for their website, and apparently, they’d be filming the entire visit. Eventually, Stasia had to get a minute alone with him. She could wait. Really.
The museum tour was interesting, especially with Evan narrating everything for the cameras. Clearly, he’d spent a lot of time here. As they moved between exhibits, she said, “How do you know all of this? You majored in psychology and minored in theater.”
“And I started out majoring in criminology, though I only lasted a couple semesters. When I got the lead in The Game Maker, I used the role as an excuse to immerse myself in everything Vegas mob related. I spent more time here than I did in Los Angeles in the lead-up to filming.”
The new film, a parallel worlds fantasy, wasn’t about the mob or even Vegas, but she understood how the criminal element of the story would echo the Vegas mob. It was actually a brilliant way to get into the mind of his character. “And did it help?”
Evan winked at her. “I’ll let you know come awards time.”
He was either kidding, or he believed the movie would be stellar. Everyone knew sci-fi and fantasy rarely made the nominations for the big awards, much less won them. The genre bias was a shame, but it was an ingrained part of a business that believed in honoring more serious work. She would have happily debated the merits of genre fiction with the academy, but it wouldn’t make a difference—she was just a reporter. Correction: she used to be a reporter. She still hadn’t figured out what she was going to do after she left Vegas, but she’d decided that was a problem for another day. For now, she had other worries.
“And here we have the exhibit dedicated to film and how much creative license we take.” Evan grinned at the cameras, a complete showman. “Short version: more than you’d ever think and less than you’d like. The real mob…”
Stasia listened, but Evan had handed her his phone when they arrived, forgetting he had it in his pocket. It had buzzed a minute ago, and she’d ignored it, but it kept going off. Stepping out of the line of the cameras, she took it from her purse and glanced at the screen. Three calls and one voicemail from Vicky Stone. His sister.
Shit.
Three calls means it’s important, but is it important enough to interrupt him?
The debate raged in her head until they moved on and she realized they’d covered most of the museum. He’d be done soon and free to return the call. It would mean more time she couldn’t get him alone, but she knew how much Evan’s family meant to him. She’d waited this long. Surely, she could wait a little longer.
…
As soon as the tour was over, Evan started to thank everyone for coming. The filming had gone well, and he hoped the studio and museum were happy with the results.
Then Stasia rushed over with his phone. “Your sister called.”
Frowning, he swiped the screen. She hadn’t just called; she’d called more than once. “Thanks.”
He nodded at the camera crew. “Sorry to film and run, guys, but family’s family.”
Stasia steered him toward a side door. “The manager said you can go out here. It’s where employees smoke, but it’s more private than anywhere else.”
“What would I do without you, babe?” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the door shut behind him, he hit Vicky’s number and waited for the call to go through. She picked up on the first ring. “You’re getting married?” Her voice was so strained, he could imagine her gripping her cell phone tight enough to crush it. “What happened to learning from my mistakes? And how could you do this without talking to me or Mom? Or anyone for that matter?”
“Calm down. It’s not what you think.” The door was shut, but there was no way to know a cameraman inside wasn’t pressed to it hoping for a scoop to sell. Besides, he couldn’t see around the Dumpster ten feet away.
“Really? Because I think there are pictures of you having sex with this chick all over the internet, and everyone is calling her your fiancée. Then, when I actually check normal celebrity news, there you are with a gorgeous brunette who happens to be wearing a Tiffany engagement ring with a diamond the size of my head. So please, dear idiot brother of mine, tell me what I should be thinking.”
Poking around the Dumpster, he had a clear line of sight. It didn’t mean someone with a great mic couldn’t hear him, but this was probably his safest location from prying ears. “I couldn’t help you when Brandon walked away. I couldn’t be there for you. Then I met Stasia, and she reminded me so much of you.”
“So, you proposed to a woman because she reminded you of me? That’s a special kind of sick, even from you.”
Evan laughed. “Not what I meant. She was hurting. I saw a way to help her get past her split and I took it. We’re not really engaged. It’s all a great story to help her out of a tight spot and endear me to the media.” Regret crept into his voice after that. “If all goes according to plan, I’ll be single again by the time I come home.” A tiny noise from behind caught his attention, and he whipped around the Dumpster, but the door was shut tight and the alcove was empty, just as it had been when he’d come outside.
Tempting Her Fake Fiance Page 14
