by Amy Olle
Mina and Noah tripped down the hall toward them.
“That’s it, we’re done.” Mina leaned into Noah’s side. “I’m dead on my feet.”
“We’re leaving you to deal with the rabble-rousers back there,” Noah said. “You throw a hell of a party.”
Honey returned with her suitcase in tow. “I’m ready for my couch.”
Emily’s hand touched the pendant around her neck. “M-Max said y-y-you’re filming a horror movie…?” Her question hung in the air.
“That’s our agreement.” A hint of defiance slid through Honey’s tone.
Not the ringing endorsement Luke was hoping to hear. “The script didn’t convince you?”
“I’m still waiting to read the script,” Honey said. “Max hasn’t sent it to me yet.”
Drew sidled close to Honey. “How exciting. A slice of Hollywood here on our little island.”
Emily twisted her hands in front of her. “I’ll find you a room. Can you give me just a minute?”
Drew stuck out his elbow. “I’ll be glad to show Ms. Breedlove around while she waits.”
Honey slipped her hand under his arm. “What are you going to show me?”
“I’ll show you anything you want to see,” Drew said as he led Honey toward the ballroom. “And probably a few things you don’t want to see.”
“Trust me, I’ve already seen it all,” Honey said.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Who is that?” Noah whispered.
“A famous actress,” Luke whispered back. “She’s here for the film.”
“Two days early.” Emily’s hushed tone managed to ring with panic.
“Aren’t all the rooms taken with wedding guests?” Mina hissed. “Where are you going to put her?”
Emily lifted her shoulders. “I’ll put her in my room.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Why are we still whispering?” Luke slid a hand to the small of Emily’s back. “She’s staying at my place.”
Mina’s eyes grew wide and Emily turned an unnatural shade of pink.
“We wouldn’t want to put you out,” Noah said smoothly.
“It’s no hardship.” Luke tugged Emily back toward the library. “Enjoy your wedding night.”
When he’d closed the door behind them, she whirled on him. “Was that really necessary?”
He didn’t know if it was necessary, but it was unavoidable.
He’d tried to stay away from her, but that was no longer an option. Having blown past the point of no return, his priority now was to find a way back to the hot, secret place between her thighs.
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial, intimate purr. “I’m ready.”
A fiery blush blotted her peaches-and-cream skin. He wanted to lick every inch of it.
Now that he’d made his intentions clear to her, there was nothing holding him back. It was just sex. Fulfillment of a biological need. Release.
With no fear of hurting her, and no chance of suffering a fate like the one that ruined his dad, his desire for her rushed forward to consume him.
“I want you in my bed, Emily. I don’t want to wait.”
“I can’t leave.” A flash of disappointment flitted across her face. “I have a houseful of people.”
“I’ll have you back first thing in the morning.”
She wavered and her hand motioned to the couch. “This couch has a pull-out bed. We could, uh, sleep here.”
The ferocity of his desire for her unsettled him. “What do we have to do to get rid of all these people?”
They devised a quick and dirty plan, which had Luke pulling Matt aside while Emily talked with the DJ. Soon the flow of alcohol slowed to a trickle and the parade of upbeat pop songs downshifted into ballads with slow, melancholy tempos.
It was another hour, however, before the last guests wandered up to their rooms for the night and they closed the doors on Mina and Noah’s wedding party.
Emily, her arms loaded down with bed linens and pillows, slipped into the library and he swung the heavy wooden doors closed behind her.
The puffy expanse of her skirt sprang up and he shoved it down to avoid catching the delicate fabric in the door.
“That dress is ridiculous,” he said.
She deposited her armload on one end of the sofa and faced him. The corners of her puffy mouth turned down. “I think it’s p-pretty.”
“It is. Take it off.”
The pulse point at the base of her throat thumped wildly.
His erection throbbed.
Her small, oval face clouded with uncertainty.
A nugget of unease wedged beneath his breastbone. The same sensation occurred earlier, when he was inside, except he couldn’t think with her hot sex clamped around him.
He circled wide around an armchair and meandered closer to her. The hollow of her neck filled with shadows and he trailed the tips of his fingers along her collarbone.
Her breath hitched.
“You said it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone. How long has it been?”
He didn’t miss the frisson of alarm that chased across her face, but she quickly tamped it down.
He watched her mind working the problem a moment, and then she made her decision.
A predatory smile curved her lips. She placed a hand on his chest and shoved.
He collapsed onto the sofa.
“Don’t worry.” She reached behind her. “It’s like riding a bike.”
A laugh burst from him.
Then, with the scrape of her dress’s zipper as she dragged it down, his laughter died. The bodice of her dress sagged, and then fell into a heap of purple at her feet.
She stood before him in high heels, a bra, and—he swallowed the painful lump in his throat—the flimsy G-string.
A seductress.
Except for the insecure curve of her shoulders and the teardrop of uncertainty shimmering in her eyes.
Her eyelashes swept down, shutting him out, and her trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp of her corset thingy. Soon her pert breasts bounded free and the bra joined the pool on the floor. Her breasts were not the biggest, but they were perfectly round and plump enough to fill his palms.
His cock came agonizingly erect, its throbbing beat echoing the one in his heart.
Her hands skimmed down her body to push the tiny scrap of her underwear over the exaggerated swell of her hips. The string caught on the edge of her heel. With a panicked kick that pierced his heart, she jiggled the thong loose.
In nothing but the heels, she climbed onto his lap.
He smoothed his palms over the silky skin of her hips, down her thighs and over her calves. He gripped her ankles while her fingers worked the buttons of his dress shirt. She shoved the fabric aside and her small hands skittered over his bare chest. They roamed lower, to the fastening of his tuxedo pants.
His erection bobbed with its release and an appreciative growl vibrated in the back of her throat.
Blood rushed to his groin. He craved her as he craved his favorite whiskey. Would she taste as lovely, between her thighs? The golden jewel tones in her eyes beckoned to him.
The soft fuzz of her bush teased his cock when she rubbed herself against him. Then all he knew was heat and softness, and the bliss of her swollen pussy swallowing his cock and his soul.
God, she was tight.
He pushed deeper.
So fucking tight.
Uneasiness prickled—
But she rolled her hips and he was lost.
He clutched her lush ass and his head dropped to the sofa back. So tight. Tight and hot and wet.
“Luke, tell me wh-what to do. I w-want to please you.”
The fog of his lust burned away. In the library, he’d been too far gone, too quickly, to understand, but now, as her tight pussy sucked him, the truth slammed into him.
Reaching up, he took her head in his hands. “You’re a fraud, Emily Cole.”
&nb
sp; Terror shimmered in her dark eyes and he soothed her with a small kiss on her mouth.
“How many men have you been with? Tell me the truth.”
“What, like, in the last year?”
“How many men ever?”
“O-one. Before you.”
A soft curse slipped from him.
Her inexperience was far beyond what he’d imagined. Far beyond what she’d let on.
He felt a moment’s regret that he’d taken her the way he had, against the wall in a mad rush. On the library desk. In a mad rush.
His heart softened. “How long ago?”
Her throat worked and her gaze slid away. “Oh, it’s been a while.”
He brushed back her hair, which had fallen forward to hide the upper swells of her breasts. “How long?”
“Ten y-years.”
He stilled.
“Don’t freak o-out. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s kind of a big deal. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She chewed her bottom lip a moment. “There wasn’t really time, before the first time, and then… I thought, if y-you found out, y-you’d find me less… attractive.”
He pulled her head down and sucked her plump bottom lip between his teeth. “Not possible.”
In between his soft nibbles, she whispered against his mouth, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize for being who you are.”
She melted into him with a soft moan. Her hands on his chest, she rolled her hips.
A sharp hiss of air sucked between his teeth. He gripped her hips. “Emily…”
She threw her head back and rode him. Her bright hair fell about her shoulders like cascading fire, and matched the fuzz between her legs where her body swallowed his cock. Her slick moisture eased his passage, and before his heavy-lidded gaze, her breasts bounced. His mouth clamped on a pink nipple.
Her greedy moans wrenched everything from him. Caught in whiskey-colored swirls, he pounded, pounded, pounded up into her until her moans of pleasure slanted toward orgasmic cries. His balls squeezed. The tight walls of her sweet pussy clenched around him. Shoving deep and holding there, he emptied his seed inside her.
While their breathing slowed, he smoothed a hand up her back. Gripping her nape, he pulled her face down to his.
“Don’t ever lie to me again, Emily. That’s the one thing I cannot tolerate.”
A ripple of worry disturbed the liquid softness in her eyes. She shifted and, with a reluctant kiss of regret, her body released his.
He held her waist, keeping her on his lap. “What is it?”
“There’s something I should pr-probably tell you.”
He didn’t understand the slash of disappointment that sliced through him.
“It’s about BOB,” she said.
His lust-addled brain seized.
“Remember, the vibrator? From the airport?”
“I remember,” he snapped. “What about it?”
“It’s not mine.”
There was nothing to do about it. He laughed at her.
She frowned. “Wh-why is that funny?”
“You scared the piss out me. Jesus, from the look on your face, I thought you were gonna lead me to a dead body or give me the details of your smuggling ring.” When his body stopped shaking with laughter, he smoothed his hands over the swell of her hips. “Though this does put a damper on one or two of my more intriguing sexual fantasies.”
“It was m-my mom’s,” she blurted. “No, not like that!”
A relieved breath burst from him.
“She didn’t die of cancer. She had a disease that caused her muscles to w-weaken and, eventually, stop w-working. I don’t know why I don’t tell people what killed her. It was such a horrible disease. I used the vibrator to help break up the congestion in her lungs as her muscles grew weaker and couldn’t do the w-work anymore.”
Like that, the tongue-tied stray kitten silenced the silver-tongued charmer. What she described, the painfulness of a certain slow and steady death, struck him as familiar. He couldn’t speak for the chaos rioting through him.
“They say it’s painless, but I don’t think that’s true.”
“Oh, Em. I’m so sorry.” His mouth found hers and he drank in her sweetness.
“I won’t lie to you ever again, Luke. I promise.”
Her hips shifted and the soft fuzz of her red bush tickled his cock.
He became semi-erect.
Her eyes flashed, but he couldn’t go again so soon. Not just yet. His fingers slid through her soft curls.
She moaned and her head fell back.
Luke lay awake, the sound of the wood crackling in the fireplace the only noise in the quiet house. Tucked up against his body, Emily slept.
Naked. Her pale skin appeared pure in the firelight and the round swells of her peachy ass beckoned to him. The ridiculous makeup had worn away and her hair was in hopeless disarray. A satisfied smile tugged one corner of his mouth. That was how she should be.
He smoothed a hand up her thigh to cup one butt cheek, his darker skin a stark contrast to her paleness. Like a black stain spilling over a pristine canvas. Regret twisted through him, even as his cock grew thick and heavy.
His smile faded as one corner of his heart fractured. The blasted thing just crumbled and broke off like a chipped tooth or brittle bone. He could never have her. Not fully. He knew that.
But he could indulge, for a little while at least. Just until he no longer needed the distraction and had buried himself inside her sweet pussy a few more times. She was his winter break, a vacation from the cold and the bleakness.
He might enjoy his visit, but he couldn’t buy real estate.
Though what would it hurt to lie next to her in the dark, and breathe and sleep with her?
Emily cracked open one eye to the soft halo of daylight leaking into the darkened room at the edges of the curtains. A delicious soreness in unmentionable places teased a smile to her lips.
Beside her, Luke’s warmth reached out to her. The long sweep of his lashes kissed his cheekbones and his full mouth fell slightly ajar. The sight of him in peaceful slumber poked holes at the protective wall around her heart.
She slipped from the bed and padded around the room, naked, collecting the scattered articles of her clothing. Her hair hung in hopeless tangles about her shoulders and she knew Kate’s makeup must be smudged beneath her eyes. She struggled into her dress and tiptoed to the door, sparing one last look for the gorgeous man she’d left sleeping—
He sat up in the bed, watching her. Shirtless and droopy-eyed, his dark hair stood up in all directions.
At the sight, her heart sprouted wings and soared.
“I’m going to start br-breakfast.”
He tossed back the covers and climbed from the bed. She gulped, witnessing him in his naked glory.
“You don’t have to get up. I bought a box of pastries and some fresh fruit. I just need to make the coffee.”
With a stern scowl at her, he pulled his tuxedo pants over his lean hips. No words were necessary to convey his opinion on the matter.
He yanked the white undershirt over his head and crossed to her.
Hand on the door, she gave a light flick of her puffy tulle skirt. “Hope no one’s awake yet.”
“Wait.” He took her face in his hands, and tipping her chin, took full possession of her mouth.
The kiss managed to be both urgent and languid. A dizzying thrill jolted through her and she grasped his forearms.
He moaned against her mouth. “You taste so good.” He pulled back and peered down into her face. “Now, shall we find out why there’s a porn star in this movie?”
He flung open the doors. The house was quiet as they padded down the hall and into the foyer. Emily went to the front door and pulled it open. Sunlight streamed into the house when she stooped to pick up the newspaper.
“People still read those?” Luke asked as she shut the door and followed him into the din
ing room.
“I think so. Don’t they?”
She laid the paper on the dining table and pushed open the kitchen swing door.
Voices bombarded them.
“Did you guys see the beach? Holy shit. Max, man, tell me there are going to be lots of beach scenes.”
Bodies packed around the kitchen table, the box of doughnuts opened between them and already half-empty.
Luke gave her a small shove in the back and she tumbled forward into the room.
At her entrance, Max turned. “Guys, this is Emily. She owns the house. And this is Luke.” A light came into his dark eyes. “The cook, was it?”
Luke bared his teeth. “Chef.”
“Right.” Max gestured to the group seated at the table.
“H-how did y-you get in?”
“Honey let us in.”
“Only because you called my cell phone at 6 a.m.”
“This is the crew. Ian and Jared handle the camera and lighting. Will, here, is in the lead role, along with Honey, who I hear you’ve already met.” Max’s brow wrinkled when he considered Drew sitting beside Honey. “I have no idea who this guy is.”
Honey’s mouth lifted in a coy smile. “Don’t worry about him. He’s mine.”
“You’re, uh, early,” Emily said.
Max’s brow pulled into a frown. “Am I?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
Color touched his cheekbones and he shifted his weight to one foot. “Details are a little lost on me sometimes. Hope it’s okay.”
“The rooms aren’t ready. I need some time…”
“That’s cool. We’ve got enough to keep us busy for a while.” He passed a stack of papers around the table. “Here’s the first scene. We shoot tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. sharp.”
“Sure would have been nice to get these sooner.” Honey sipped coffee. “Hard to memorize your lines in twenty-four hours.”
“I’m working on it.” A hard edge crept into Max’s tone.
Honey’s dark eyes studied his face. “You haven’t finished writing it yet, have you?”
A scruffy guy with a man bun—was he Ian or Jared?—rocked back in his chair. “Is she shitting us, Max?”
Max rubbed his nape. “Don’t worry about the script. I got it under control.”
