Getting Tricky

by Scarlett Finn

  The sound guy didn’t have to go far either. He picked up his boom, played with his dials and leaned forward in his armchair.

  “Really, guys?” Trick asked. “Way to be subtle.”

  “So, what was it like?” Paul asked, jumping in to interview mode.

  “What was it like?” Trick asked. “What was what like?”

  Smiling, she turned her amusement against his chest because it was just like Trick to find a new way to infuriate their director. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “The game last night?” Trick asked and leaned forward to pick up the room service menus that had somehow ended up on the coffee table. She guessed that one of the crew must have picked them up during Paul’s tirade. Trick handed them over to her and touched a kiss to her hair. “Missed it. Had to watch it on my damn phone. Nightmare. You try following a conversation with the highest maintenance woman on the planet while keeping it quiet that you’d rather be watching the Patriots under the table.”

  “Lyla, how do you feel about being described as high maintenance?” Paul asked.

  Reading over the menu, nothing was grabbing her. “He wasn’t talking about me,” she muttered and took a breath. “Is soup a good thing to get when you’re hungry?” Considering it, she hummed. “Never mind, I don’t want bread in my system this late.”

  So as she went back to her reading, Lyla let the conversation between the men fade out. Trick was being obtuse, though he was clear that he’d been talking about Kira being the high maintenance one.

  Paul was getting more and more pissed off by the second. “You enjoy this,” Paul screamed.

  Lyla kept reading. “Trick, will you eat my bacon?”

  He laughed. “Damn right, baby. You don’t gotta ask, just lay it out for me,” he said. “Race you to the bedroom.”

  She clucked her tongue as she looked over her shoulder. “They put bacon in the salad. I don’t want the bacon. But I don’t want it going to waste.”

  He scrunched his fingers in her hair, his eyes shining as they fixated on her. “We’ll ask them to leave it out.”

  “Hmm,” she said, going back to the menu. “I don’t want to be any trouble… one of these guys will eat it… or I could just get the chicken.”

  “Who gives a crap about chicken?” Paul said, his frustration making his ire rise.

  “Are you shouting at my wife?” Trick asked and he didn’t sound like he was having fun anymore. “Just so I have something to tell the judge, I want to be clear about what’s going on before I put my fist through your face… Are you shouting at my wife?”

  “Trick,” she soothed, rubbing his thigh as she turned the menu over. “The steak is good here, least that’s what I heard, do you want steak?” Turning around, she blinked at her husband when she saw the severity of the gaze that he was still pinning on Paul. “Baby, I’m not offended, you’ve riled him up… I know how infuriating you can be. I sympathize with him.”

  Glancing at her, Trick slid his hand up her back when she leaned forward. “Want me to stop playing with him?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “No, it’s fun to watch.”

  Curling his finger under her chin, he bowed forward as if to kiss her. The whole room seemed to lean in and a collective breath was held.

  Trick froze and his eyes brightened when they landed on hers. “Did you feel that?” he asked and she nodded before he laughed and sat back. “Damn, you guys are all pervs.”

  That was a good test run, she’d still had time to pull away, but he’d done it first. They’d have to kiss in front of the camera eventually. Lyla hoped they’d get to a point where they kissed without really thinking about it. Right now, every joining of their lips still seemed profound because it was so new.

  Something on Trick’s arm caught her eye and she gasped when she saw the angry red streaks on his shoulders that ran down his upper arm. “Oh my God,” she said, grabbing for him and touching the edge of a scratch. “How did you do that?”

  “Seriously?” he asked, cupping her face with one hand. “I didn’t.”

  “Then how did…” Sorrow made her eyes fly to his. “Oh God, it was me, when we… Baby, I’m sorry!”

  But conceit bled from his wide smile. “Battle scars… I wear them with pride, sweetheart.”

  Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was an intimate gesture from him, her man, not his character.

  A knock on the door broke the moment. “It’s open,” Paul said and Trick must have been frowning because the director shrugged. “We unlocked it for security when we thought there was going to be a scene.”

  Glancing up, she saw Cliff coming around the partition and offered him a smile, but went back to her menus, feeling the pressure of deciding. The others would need to make their selections too, it wasn’t right that she was monopolizing the list.

  “What’s going on? Shouldn’t you guys all be down the stairs? I thought you were going to be at the party?” she heard Cliff ask.

  “Yeah, bro, you’re not the only one who expected to be at the function,” Paul snapped.

  The director was getting angry again. The poor guy really did put up with a lot, but if he wanted his life to be easy, he should’ve chosen a different career and not chosen to hang out with larger than life celebrities.

  “What happened?” Cliff asked.

  Maybe she should get fish. But fish from room service… would it be good fish? It would have to travel all the way from the kitchen up to the room, would it get cold or maybe it would be soggy?

  Crossing her legs off the couch, she propped her fist under her chin while thinking, ‘Come on, Lyla, make a decision.’

  “This damn idiot happened,” Paul said. “We’re down there waiting with our thumbs up our asses like pricks and Trick didn’t come!”

  “He did,” she said and when the room became silent, she lifted her eyes to Paul and then to the others. “Trick did… come…”

  Oh… yeah, she’d totally read that wrong.

  Turning her eyes to Trick, Lyla was sure she was blushing.

  “Ha!” Trick let out a single burst of laughter and then pointed at her as he tried to straighten his grin. “Yes, I did, she’s actually right about that. I did come… hard.”

  Letting her hand slide over her eyes, Lyla caught the weight of her head that wasn’t close to the mass of her mortification. They hadn’t meant that… It had been something of an achievement for her that Trick had enjoyed her so much he’d reached climax. Maybe that was what was playing in her subconscious when she’d heard Paul’s statement and her response just came out of her, it just… came out.

  “Oh God,” she exhaled.

  Trick’s hand curled around the back of her neck and he leaned in to kiss the back of her head as he gave her a single-handed massage. “Thank you, baby. You’re a good wife, defending her man. Don’t let them talk smack about me.” He sat back, but his hand stayed on her neck. “Yep, guys, it’s official. I did come… right there inside my wife.”

  “Trick!” she squawked and bounced away from him to twist and gape at him as she hit his thigh.

  “What?” he shrugged.

  Glancing at the camera, she didn’t know where she should look. “We used protection.”

  Trick leaned in at her side, his face right against hers. “Yes, kids, this is a public service announcement: wrap it.”

  “Oh, Trick,” she said, hitting his thigh again and using her whole upper body to push him back.

  He did go to the back of the couch, but threw an arm around her to take her with him, so she was nestled into his side again.

  “You had sex?” Cliff asked and sat on the arm of the couch behind Paul. “Ly, you actually had sex with him?”

  “Wait a minute,” Trick said like he was trying to figure something out. “You thought we were all at the party, you didn’t know I didn’t show.”

  “Yeah,” Cliff said. “So?”

  “Why did you come her
e?”

  “Thought I’d check in on Lyla.”

  Everyone knew she wasn’t really sick, even the camera would know that now. She wouldn’t be sitting here talking about having sex and eating food if she was unwell. But they’d probably edit the sickness part out for the show now that it wasn’t necessary.

  “You thought you’d come to my private hotel room to see my wife who was here… alone? You wanted to be alone with my wife?”

  “We’re alone all the time,” Cliff said like it was no big deal.

  Trick was building to something and it made her nervous that she didn’t know what it was. “Trick,” she said, warning him as she put the menus aside.

  “No, babe, give me a minute,” he said, lifting his arm away from her to shift to the edge of the couch and pin his focus right on Cliff. “Do you want to fuck my wife?”

  “What?” Cliff snapped. “No!”

  “Trick,” she said and tried to reach for him, but he shifted down the couch a few inches, in Cliff’s direction.

  “No? So how come you wanted to film her stripping on our wedding night? Huh?” he asked and Cliff started to look worried. “Yeah, I’ve seen the footage… You’re gonna watch your step, you bastard, ‘cause I’ve got my eye on you and if I think you’re out of line I’ll knock you back into it, do you understand me?”

  “Trick,” she said, but he wasn’t listening. No one was.

  “I don’t want to be with Lyla,” Cliff said.

  “I don’t believe you,” Trick said. “You’re telling me if she loosened that robe…” Sitting back, he pushed her to the back of the couch and dug his hand around the knot of her belt. “What you got on under that, baby?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered, letting her eyes flick up to the camera before they fell again.

  Trick kept his fist around the belt as he turned back to Cliff. “If she loosens that robe, lies down, and opens those hot legs for you, you’re telling me you’d walk away instead of sliding yourself into her hungry pussy?”

  Cliff swallowed hard, and she didn’t even know what to say or how to respond, outrage seemed too mild. “You’re being a dick,” Paul said. “Lyla’s stacked, ok? We all admit that. There’s plenty of guys who’d do her, Cliff’s no different.”

  Trick threw his head back in a sinister laugh. “Oh, that’s goddamn great, so every guy in here wants to fuck my wife?” Taking his glare from Cliff, to Paul, and then to the other two, his tension was making her nervous. “Do you? Huh? You want to do her? Do you?”

  Trick actually seemed to be waiting for the sound guy to answer. “Trick,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her forward to the edge of the couch beside him and yanked her spine to his chest. “What is it you like best?” he projected the question to the room.

  Sweeping her hair away from her neck, he was rough about yanking her head to the side and when his mouth closed around her carotid, she gasped. “Trick.”

  “It’s ok, baby. I got ya,” he whispered, the others would’ve heard it and they would see the way her pulse point was racing in her throat as her husband ran his lips down the side of her neck. “You like this, boys? This what you want to see? You want more?” His hands ran up her arms to the lapels of her robe and he gripped it tight before tugging it open, not all the way, just enough to expose a triangle of her upper chest. Pushing the heels of his hands into her breasts through the robe, he pushed them up and together, giving the room an eyeful of cleavage. “Open your legs, baby, they want a show.”

  “Trick!” she called out and thrust her elbow back into his ribs. He let go and she shot to her feet, spinning around and gathering her robe back together. “You just don’t have any limits at all, do you?”

  Marching away from the group, Lyla went into the bedroom, making a big show of slamming the door and locking it.

  He wasn’t going to spend the night with her.

  Things had just been so good and then he’d turned. Which meant one thing… He wasn’t ready to share her.

  Being the prick, going over the top, he was making sure the world knew he’d been stuck on the couch… again.

  SEVENTEEN

  It took too long to get rid of the crew.

  Trick wanted to kick them out the minute Lyla slammed the bedroom door, but they lingered. They kept on filming for quite a while, probably trying to catch Lyla coming back out of the bedroom.

  She didn’t.

  Good.

  He didn’t want her to.

  He wanted her to stay in there. Safe away from the lens that scrutinized them. But he’d never felt like this, so hollow and sick and disgusted. It was difficult to push her at the best of times, now he’d just pledged to be a decent guy and he’d gone and done… that.

  Lying in the dark on his back on the couch, he covered his eyes with the back of his wrist. He probably wouldn’t be getting much sleep, he just wished he knew that she was sleeping. If she was sleeping, she was relaxed, and there was a chance she didn’t hate him.

  A small chance.

  A tiny one.

  Paul had spoken about setting up a static camera in the room, luckily, they hadn’t brought any because no one had assumed that the couple would be getting it on. The couple being first on that list.

  Lyla hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t gotten her shower either. She’d been locked up in that bedroom for two hours.

  Paul and the others eventually left after he assured them he’d call with any developments or if there was a chance of sex. He wouldn’t. But it didn’t take much to persuade them that Lyla was pissed.

  She usually pushed away from him and often squealed his name with outrage, but she never threw any comments at him, not like she had tonight.

  Trick couldn’t help but replay the words in his mind. Had she meant them for the show, or had they been for him? If he’d hurt her, really hurt her, he’d never forgive himself. He just wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even argue if she wanted to dump his ass and split, he’d deserve it.

  When the bedroom door opened, he didn’t move. If she needed the bathroom or wanted to go for a shower, he wasn’t going to start up with her. The woman deserved some breathing space and that meant he’d live with his own torment and give her peace.

  “Trick,” she murmured.

  His arm slid away from his head, but with him on his back on the couch, they couldn’t actually see each other. “Yeah?”

  “Come to bed.”

  What?

  Sitting upright, he looked over the back of the couch, but she was already gone. The bedroom door was open but vacant. Had he just dreamed that? Leaping up from the couch, Trick wasn’t about to take the risk that it hadn’t been real.

  Rushing to the bedroom, he saw her there, sitting up in the middle of the bed, scooting over to the opposite side as she pulled the covers back on the empty side. “Babe?” he asked, staying near the door in case she decided to throw something at him.

  “Come to bed,” she said, sliding down beneath the comforter to rest her head on her folded hands on the pillow.

  She was wearing the baggy white dress thing she’d been wearing when she slathered that lotion stuff all over her body, driving him crazy with the same scent of coconut he recognized from the shampoo that infused her hair.

  “You… you want me to come to bed with you?”

  “It’s got to be more comfortable than the couch,” she said. “You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to.”

  She sounded serious enough. Damn, his woman just kept surprising him over and over. Dashing to the bed, he leapt onto it and shifted over, right to the middle and dropped his head onto her pillow with hers. She laughed. Oh, that sound… He loved making her laugh.

  “And if I do want to?” he asked, his hand hovering over her hip.

  “Did they leave cameras or audio—”

  “No,” he soothed, lifting his hand to her face to brush the back of his fingers over her cheek. “I’m sorry I was a prick,
babe. I—”

  “I know why you did it,” she said, taking his hand and directing it around to her back so she could move against him. “You did that so we could do this… alone.”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Trick didn’t lose his guilt, but was washed by relief. “How did I get with such a smart cookie?”

  “I felt… nervous… but I knew you’d never really expose my body to anyone… would you?”

  “What? No! Of course not, baby. I can’t share you. I can’t do it… As soon as I heard Paul coming I knew I’d do whatever I could to protect this… I’m sorry if I scared you. Babe, I know I go too far, but I get into that—”

  “I think a part of me liked it.” Wow, ok, so this was what stunned silence felt like. “Is that… bad?”

  “Nothing that turns you on is bad,” he said and was stoked that she was sharing her sexual feelings with him so openly. “What was it you liked about it?” Because if he knew, he’d be sure to do it again.

  “I always assumed that any time you were being possessive it was because of the camera, you know, it made great television. But tonight I… I thought maybe you might…”

  “Mean it?” he asked, pulling her closer to him in hope that she might feel the boner pulsing between them and react in a way that would give him the green light… or not. “I do mean it. I don’t want any guy trying to move in on you. That bastard snuck up here when he knew I wouldn’t be here, ‘cause he knew you were alone and vulnerable.”

  “I wasn’t actually sick,” she said and when she opened her mouth on his throat, he had to close his eyes and remind himself to be patient.

  “You’re always vulnerable, sweetheart. Least you were until you had me. From now on, any guy asks for your number, you give him mine instead.”

  She wriggled even closer. “Give him your number?” she asked and laughed. “How would that work?”

  “Easy, I’ll tell him I’m your pimp and organize somewhere to meet.”

  “Why would I want to meet him?” she asked.

  This was exactly why she was vulnerable, she just didn’t get it. “You wouldn’t,” he said, rubbing his mouth in her hair. “I would. Me and my boys.”