"You should get that."
"Grace..." His voice was thick, but I stood up off the couch, and he immediately followed.
"Hello?" he barked, frustration clear in his voice, but I wasn't scared of him. I went to the crook of his arms, where he held me close as he listened to whatever the deep voice on the other side murmured.
"Okay. Yeah, we're good," he said, kissing my forehead and bringing me in even closer, my face in his chest. I liked the feeling. "Sounds good. No. I get it. Yeah. Thanks for taking care of that for me, man. Yeah. Okay... Yeah, heading home in a bit. Okay, night." He pressed ‘End’ on his phone, shoved into his jean pockets, and held me with both arms. It made me feel safer than I had ever felt.
"That was Donnie." He snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Oh?"
"He wanted to make sure we had made it back home okay. He apologizes for the mini mob outside the stadium."
"That wasn't his fault."
"He thinks it is." He sighed. "He mentioned me going to the game to someone he thought he could trust. He was wrong."
"Oh."
"He thinks pictures might come up tomorrow. He feels like shit, Grace."
"There was a chance I knew that could happen." He looked at me, a frown on his face, and I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not naïve, Marc. Everyone has phones out there. Going anywhere with you would be a risk."
"I know." A look of guilt fell over his face. I didn't like it.
"I don't regret going out with you."
"I just don't want the vultures hounding you."
"I doubt they will," I tried to reassure him. He cupped my face, gently tilting my head up so I would look directly into his eyes.
"If they do, you call me. No hesitation. Okay?"
"Marc—"
"Call me. Please. Do not try to drive off, or talk to them, or respond to some of the shit they will say or ask. Just get inside somewhere safe. A store or car, then call me, and I will get someone to deal with them."
"I really don't think they will. I'm not anyone important. We went to a ball game—"
"They got pictures of us in the elevator," he shared, and my entire body froze solid.
"What?" I asked, pulling back, feeling slightly sick to my stomach at the idea of everyone seeing something that private.
"Kissing. That was it. When the lights were out, when we did what we did, babe, we were in total darkness, Grace. The video of us kissing was leaked. Don was able to intercept and watched it. I double checked it. It was only of when the lights turned back on and I kissed you."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing you have to worry about." He let me go and ran his hands through his hair. "They took pictures of us in an elevator and now at a baseball game."
"I think you are worrying over nothing.”
"Just humor me, okay? If anyone approaches...”
"I'll get somewhere safe and call you. Got it, Boss Man."
"You're too cute for your own good." He shook his head with smiling eyes.
"Are you going to be okay to drive?"
"Yeah."
"You could crash here. I have a guest room."
"Grace..."
"Or my bed," I stupidly added. Talk about sending mixed signals! I was about to backtrack when I watched him close his eyes slowly.
"I..."
"Have to wake up early to head home?"
"Grace..."
"No, it's..." I couldn't keep talking, because he opened his eyes and moved to me so quickly I thought it was my imagination.
Suddenly, I found myself back in his arms, our lips against another. Our hands tugging each other's hair. It was rough and demanding, and so damn beautiful. An insatiable need coursed through me hard and fast. Everything I was feeling made me weak at the knees. But I held on.
I gave as he took and then he gave. God! His taste. The feel of his strong, large body pinning mine. His hardness pressed so damn close to where I needed it. All of it felt like it was ingraining itself into my own DNA. He kissed me in a way I knew I would never remember anyone else's lips but his, and I was okay with that. Even if this was all I was going to get from him, I was fine with it. The memory engraved in my mind would be enough to last me till my last days.
"Marc," I moaned softly the instant his lips hit the sensitive spot on my neck.
"I should walk out of here and let you rest." His voice felt like velvet against my skin, and I couldn't help but arch into him, our bodies pressed so tightly together I doubted a sheet of paper could fit between us.
"Probably," I muttered, knowing he was right.
His schedule for the next day now in the forefront of my mind, I couldn't let him stay. If he stayed, as fun as it would be, it wouldn't be right. And not just because of how busy he was going to be. I indulged closing my eyes as he kissed and licked my neck. The moment he reached my collarbone, I pulled back. "I don't want you to leave, but you have to. And if your mouth explores any more of me, I won't let you go."
He gave me a sexy grin, and I smiled. "I'm serious. You're too damn good with your mouth." His grin grew wider, and I laughed, realizing my accidental joke. "You know what I mean."
Shaking his head, he closed the space I had just gained, and his hand moved into my hair so gently I had to fight from sighing. "You will too. Soon." He gave me a lingering peck then pulled away, his thumb stroking the skin at my temple. "Want me to pick you up tomorrow?"
"I would, but I think I can only make it to the photo shoots here. I have to skip out on the Palms Springs one." Our eyes locked, but I couldn't read him. "Lexi is used to having me home..." I stopped explaining when he smiled.
"I get it. Okay. Donnie emailed you the location?"
"Yes, he did."
"Okay." He sighed, and I knew he was battling between staying and leaving. Before he said anything to talk me into letting him stay, I kissed him, held his hand, and walked him to the door.
"Call me or text that you got home, okay?" He gave me a double look and chuckled softly with a shake to his head.
"I will, sweetness. See you tomorrow."
Chapter Thirteen
Marcus
“Okay, Marc, hold it there,” Zaiden Maguire bellowed as Marcus stood on the edge of the rooftop of the L.A. building he was on. It was sunny and warm, and a slightly windy Southern California day. "Okay, Marcus, look out toward the edge... like that... hold it, tilt a little to the left." His body was tense, and he was exhausted.
The photo shoots had been more trying than he'd expected. It could have also been the fact that he had tossed and turned again, or the fact that when he had gone to sleep, all he had dreamed about was having Grace next to him in his bed.
"Great shot, Marc! We got that one; let’s do a wardrobe change and head over to the infinity pool." He looked over his shoulder at the asshole photographer and smiled brightly.
"Sounds good." Grinning as he walked over to wardrobe, he fought the need to roll his eyes or scowl.
He couldn't do shit like that.
Shit like that made people talk, and rumors became a headache he would have to deal with later.
"Here is the next outfit he has on his schedule," Michele Joslin told him as she handed him a hanger with a three-piece suit.
"Thanks, Michele."
"You are welcome." She stepped close to him. He stood straight. She wasn't hitting on him; she was inspecting his face since she was in charge of wardrobe and make-up. "I'll do a light re-touch when you're ready."
"Thanks. I tried not to sweat."
"Anyone not sweating standing on a fucking ledge of a thirty-story building has issues, babe!" The curvaceous redhead chuckled. "Where the hell Zaid gets these ideas is beyond me. Last week, we did this shoot for that new Spiderman movie with the cast."
"Oh, man. I can only imagine."
"Yeah," she said softly, "but he gets the shots. That's why he gets paid what he does."
"He only works with you. For all we know, you give him these ideas a
nd you're the one to blame," he joked with her as she finished inspecting his face. She giggled and patted his shoulder.
"Go get dressed. I'll be right back." She winked at him, leaving the door open, but before he was able to take the four steps he needed to close it, Grace stood there in a deep plum sweater and faded skinny jeans that made him want to kneel in front of her as he peeled them off.
"Hi." She smiled shyly, her hand doing a slight wave. He felt like his heart was frozen in his chest while his feet were somehow cemented to the fucking ground.
"Hey." She hadn't been there when he had arrived. He had been going non-stop, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about when she would show up or whether something had happened. Thankfully, the picky photographer had not noticed how distracted he had really been.
"Sorry I’m late." She closed the door behind her. She was nervous.
"It's okay. Everything okay?"
"Yeah." She took a step forward but then stopped and looked around, her eyes landing on the outfit in his hand. "Shit. Should I wait outside? I'm probably setting you behind, huh?"
"Come here, Grace," he gently ordered. She did. He tossed the suit on the back of the make-up chair next to him and wrapped his arms around her. "What’s the matter?"
"Nothing," she quickly answered, shaking her head slightly.
"Grace."
"I think there was a photographer following me." His body went solid, but he stroked the back of her head, enjoying the fact that she had let her long, dark locks down.
"You think, or you know?"
"Lexi and I woke up late today. Gloria couldn’t get her.”
“I know, sweetness. I got your text.”
“We were rushing, so I wasn't paying attention when we left..."
"But?"
"But I noticed a green older model Toyota after I dropped her off at school, and it followed me here."
"And?"
"I threw on some sunglasses I had in the car and rushed to the elevators after I parked in the structure."
"Okay, baby." He kissed the top of her head, trying to rein in the anger of someone following her around. He opened his mouth to reassure her, but she kept talking.
"I would have called you, Marc, I just wasn't sure. I didn't see a camera or...”
"Shh... It's okay. Look at me." He pulled away a little, lifting her pretty chin up with his fingers. "You're fine. I'm going to call Donnie. I'm going to see about getting Baker over to Lexi's school before she gets out. Who is picking her up?"
"Gloria. She didn't have anything on her schedule and offered, so Gabby was called off."
"Okay, call her, let her know what Baker looks like, then shoot me a picture of her so I can forward it to Baker so he knows who to look for."
"Do you really think that’s necessary? What if Lexi gets scared? Maybe I should..."
"She won't see him, baby. I promise, Grace. Okay?"
"Marc..."
"I promise," he vowed, and he would keep his damn promise.
"Okay," she nodded, grabbing her phone. He grabbed his too and got to work on getting Lexi the protection she would hopefully never know she had.
Once Don had come through, worry in his voice as well, Marc got dressed in the three-piece suit and had his make-up re-touched by Michele, who had chatted with Grace as she sat behind him, now a little more relaxed.
"Okay, big guy, you are all set," Michele said, spinning the chair slightly so that he could stand.
"You're the best, Michele."
"Well, thank you. Can I take your friend and do something to her?"
"Oh, I'm okay." Grace started to shake her head, but something about the sparkle in Michele's eyes made him chuckle.
"Grace, trust me, let her do what she wants. She is really bossy when she doesn’t get her way."
"You have beautiful hair!" Michele exclaimed. "Please, I need my hands on it."
"Oh, okay."
"I'll send her out when I’m done. Go. Zaid's waiting," Michele said over shoulder as she got Grace settled in.
"Mind giving me a moment with my girl, Michele?" he asked without thinking and felt two sets of female eyes on him, but his were settled on the wide, extremely shocked dark pair that were locked into his.
"Mess up his make-up, and I will make you look like something out of The Walking Dead, Grace," Michele warned playfully as she stepped out of the dressing room.
"Your girl?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. He shrugged.
"Would you have rather I said friend?" he asked, leaning in, his hands on the armrests of the chair, purposely caging her in.
"I don't know." The tone of her voice and the dead set way she kept holding his gaze told him she was being honest.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He started to pull away when she surprised him. Leaning forward, she grabbed his face with both hands and leaned in close. Her lips were just a breath away from his. So fucking close. His lips ached to touch hers, and he was pretty sure he'd never felt that in his life.
"I liked it. I just... this is crazy. We just met," she whispered before her lips tenderly touched his. He kissed her back slowly, his body moving forward until she hit the back of the chair. It wasn't rough or demanding. It was soft, and sweet, and unrushed.
He had to get back out there, but he liked kissing her. He liked it too fucking much. Her lips made him forget about all the people outside waiting for him. The sweet taste of her mouth made his mind fuzz over with an almost drunken haze that almost made him forget where he was.
Almost.
"Fuck," he cursed and felt her smile against his lips. He liked that. Her hands were still gently holding on to his face, their warmth seeping not only into his skin but straight into his fucking soul. It mystified him.
"You better get going," she murmured before nipping his lower lip, and he felt that nip down to his dick, which was already straining against the damn material of his slacks.
"You keep doing shit like that, I am going to lock that door and fuck you against it," he warned her, his hooded eyes pinned to her lips. She parted her delicious mouth, her tongue poked out and skimmed his lip. "Grace." He hardly recognized the dominating tone in his voice, but his dick twitched at her soft giggle.
"Fine. I'll be good." He shook his head, fighting his own smile, not believing she would behave for a second. He gave her one last kiss before standing up. Her eyes went dark as she watched him adjust himself, while she bit that plump lip that drove him insane before he stepped out into the bright sun.
***
It was hot.
He was sweating underneath all the layers of clothes they had him in, but somehow he kept a fucking grin on his face. He had a feeling it was the sexy vixen standing off to the side next to Michele.
“Make-up!” Zaiden yelled, and Michele came over, dabbing his face with a cold wash cloth.
“You doing okay?”
“Fine. How’s my girl?” Michele grinned as she dusted some shit on his face. Even after all these years, he wasn’t used to make-up being thrown on him.
“Does she know she’s yours?”
“Mmm…” he murmured, setting his eyes on her. Zaiden had gone over to talk to her. Michele glanced over her shoulder, her body stiffening before she returned to working on Marc’s face. “Kind of,” he felt the need to add. He watched Michele shrug and felt a light bulb come on.
“You and Zaid?” he asked in a hushed tone, and she shook her head.
“No. It’s… it’s not like that.”
“Makes sense. When he’s in L.A., he only works with you.”
“It doesn’t. Trust me,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
“Michele…”
“If you want her, don’t hesitate,” she advised him in a nonchalant tone he didn’t believe. “She’s a good woman. A catch. If you don’t see that, someone else will.”
“Should I be advising you of the same?” he asked. Her green eyes met his, and she scoffed.
“No
. That ship has sailed and got lost at sea.”
“I have great brothers…” he started to say, and she laughed wholeheartedly, smacking him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, but no, thanks. No offense or anything, but you guys live like you’re on Entourage.”
“You’re the second person to say that to me this week.” He scowled. She smiled even brighter, the shadows of the conversation about Zaid gone from her eyes.
“Grace?” she asked. He nodded and looked over at her, smiling at the cute way she waved at him. He was a good distance away and it was bright as hell with the sun shining, but he knew she was blushing a little. “Like I said, a catch,” Michele mumbled under her breath. He chuckled.
Zaiden walked over, a scowl on his face. Marcus grinned and moved his arm around Michele. Sure enough, the cocky photographer’s scowl grew deeper, and Marc kicked himself for not having noticed earlier.
“How about we get you in the pool now. It’s fucking hot and watching you in that suit is making me sweat. I hate sweating,” he shared with a grimace as he pulled at the collar of the cotton tee he was wearing.
“Thanks, Zaid, but I don’t swing—”
“Shut the fuck up and come on.” Zaiden laughed as they walked side by side to the pool and talked about possible shots.
“Hey, what if before I get your ass all wet in that pool, I get some pictures with you and that lovely lady you brought as a guest?” Marcus felt himself smile before he could stop himself. Then he went serious and looked at the man in front of him.
“They are emailed directly to me, then deleted.”
“Of course, man. Shit. Who do you think I am? I’m not one of those sleazeballs waiting to get a shot of you with your pants down. Though, I could have made a killing at that little tussle you had with Katie’s man.” Marcus shook his head.
“I gotta have your word, man.”
“You got it. Shit. Relax,” Zaid answered gently. “I just thought you might like a picture with her.” Marcus gave Zaid serious eyes then nodded before calling Grace over. His eyes were pinned to her as she sexily swayed her hips back and forth in a way he knew she had no damn clue she did as she walked toward them.
LIE (Right Men Book 1) Page 10
