She paced slowly, focusing on Rebecca until it was time. She just hoped she’d found enough focus as she took a deep breath to steel herself to do one thing she’d never thought she’d do again: wrap her arms around Finn and let him hold her.
And it nearly took her breath away.
She’d forgotten how solid he was. How much heat he generated. But what she hadn’t forgotten was the feel of him, the right place to align herself to curl perfectly against his chest, the position her head needed to be in so that Finn’s cheek could rest against her forehead. When Finn’s fingers twined through hers to pull their hands against his chest, her knees wobbled from the onslaught of sensation and memory.
“You okay?” His voice came from above her head, but she could hear it through the ear pressed against his chest as well.
“Just lost my balance there for a second. It’s these shoes,” she added.
“Of course.” But Finn laughed as he said it, and it rumbled under her cheek.
Dear heaven, the man was made to wear a uniform. She’d never known she could be such a sucker for a man in uniform, but then she’d never seen one—felt one, actually—filled out quite so nicely, either. Someone called “Action!” and as everyone came to life around them, she and Finn swayed to imaginary music.
No matter how many times she tried to remind herself that it was all just for show, Finn’s earlier words were still too fresh in her mind. The slow, seductive movements were melting her insides, causing her to feel languid and liquid.
“This feels familiar,” he mumbled.
“Indeed.” It was all she could manage at the moment. Her throat was too tight and her insides were too jumbled. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of him fill her lungs. Memories and emotions swirled through her. This was not good. It felt good—better than good—but deep down she knew it shouldn’t and wasn’t.
A small ache settled in her chest. She didn’t want to name it, because that would only make it worse. She bit the inside of her lip and let the pain bring her back to reality.
Or whatever the hell she could call this situation. If anything, it had crossed the line into surreal. The layers of ridiculousness meshed and the lines blurred. She was flirting with her real-life ex who was pretending to be her potential new love on camera, while her pretend new on-camera love, whom she didn’t even like in real life, got jealous of the actions of the woman she was pretending to be. All while her ex-friend, who was pretending to be her sister, seethed with pretend jealousy over the pretend new love, while honestly seething with jealousy over her ex, who was pretending … Ugh. It made her head hurt when she tried to untangle it.
“It makes it easier, though.”
She tilted her head up to look at Finn. Nothing about this was easy. “What does?”
Those green eyes sucked her in and held her. “The fact we’ve done this before. What do you call it? Method?”
She swallowed, unable to break away from those eyes. “Yeah. It’s supposed to give a more genuine performance.”
“It’s too bad, then, that I’m not supposed to be seducing you. I could give a very genuine performance of that right now.”
She could feel the proof of that statement pressing against her, and it sent a shiver over her skin as a fire sparked to life in her belly. Oh, so could I.
Thankfully, she heard the cue and was prepared for the hand that clasped around her elbow and jerked. Finn stiffened, but released her, and the two men glowered at each other. Then Jason was dragging her through the crowd out of the frame.
It was easy enough to act bewildered and clumsy. And, though the script didn’t call for it, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder.
Finn didn’t look happy. And that look was real. It shook her insides, making her realize how dangerous this actually was.
And she still had at least one more take to do.
It was late. It had been a very long day. He was tired. Cait was most likely exhausted. If he had a lick of sense he’d be headed back to his place for a cold shower and a good night’s sleep.
But, as his brothers were constantly telling him, he was an idiot. And, Finn thought, there was a chance he was about to really prove them right this time. There was no way he could not do this.
He parked his motorcycle a block from Cait’s rented condo and walked the rest of the way, keeping to the shadows outside the streetlights’ glow. While Cait hadn’t mentioned any problems with the paparazzi staking out her place, that didn’t mean he was totally in the clear. The last thing he wanted right now was a run-in with the press. Several others of the cast and crew were staying either in this complex or nearby, so if he was seen, the dots didn’t have to connect to Cait. Not that a camera would put him off his mission, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with that. He simply didn’t have the patience at the moment.
His official capacity meant he had access to the rental agreement, which included the code for the gate. He felt no guilt or hesitation at using it instead of calling up and hoping Cait would let him in. Once inside the walled courtyard, he let out at small sigh of relief he’d gotten in unobserved and took the steps up to her door two at a time.
He’d left the set only a few minutes after she had, so she couldn’t have been home very long. He could see lights on inside. Finn rang the bell and waited.
He could hear movement, but the lag between the noise and the sound of the lock being flipped could only mean Cait wasn’t thrilled to see him on her doorstep and had debated before deciding to open the door.
But she did open it, albeit only a foot or so. Her body blocked the opening. “It’s really late, Finn,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
“I know.”
“And I’m tired.”
“I figured.”
Cait’s teeth caught her bottom lip. For someone who claimed to be tired—and should be tired—she looked remarkably alert. She’d removed all the makeup from earlier, allowing her own natural beauty to glow with that girl-next-door goodness. And without all the mascara her eyes seemed brighter.
While she’d brushed the old-fashioned style out, her hair still held a bit of the curl, giving her reddish-gold waves around her face. She wore an overlarge tee shirt with the London Underground symbol on it. He could see the hard peaks of her nipples, and his hands itched to trace them. The shirt swallowed her almost to the hem of her frayed cutoffs. Those long, shapely legs were bare.
Cait shifted her weight, balancing one bare foot on top of the other, and leaned against the doorframe. “So what brings you by?”
He caught her stare and held it. “I think you know.”
There was no surprise or shock, not even a trace of outrage at his statement. Her face remained still; the only indication she’d heard him was a slight hitch in her breathing. “What makes you think I’d let you in?”
“Because you want to.”
She shook her head and snorted. “God, you’re cocky.”
He stepped closer and Cait had to lift her chin to keep eye contact. There was annoyance in those eyes, but that wasn’t all that was simmering there. It had the same effect on him as a caress. “No, just honest. I’ve never lied to you, never taken you anywhere you didn’t want to go. If I’m wrong—” and he knew now he wasn’t “—just say so and I’ll leave.”
He knew that look on her face. She was arguing with herself, trying to talk herself into a different position. It annoyed him. He’d taken the bigger step, showing up here. She had to cross the remaining distance.
Cait dithered so long Finn began to wonder if he’d read the situation wrong, after all.
Then, in a flash, Cait’s mouth landed on his.
He froze. Although this was what he’d come for—the logical outcome of the simmering tension of the last few days—the reality of Cait’s lips pressed against his still came as a shock to his body.
Just as quickly, though, the paralysis broke and he grabbed for her face, holding her steady as her mouth open
ed under his and his tongue slipped inside.
Cait jumped as if she’d touched a live wire and her hands clasped around his biceps in a vise-like grip. It was easy, then, to walk back a step or two and move them both inside the door.
She responded by boosting herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist and using one foot to push the door closed with a bang.
Anchored against him now, Cait let her kiss turn carnal, and he could taste the desire that drove her.
It set him on fire.
This was what he’d tried to forget, what he’d let himself pretend he could forget: the sharp-clawed need that Cait brought roaring to life inside him. It blotted out everything that wasn’t Cait, shrinking the universe to the woman who felt like a flame in his arms.
They weren’t going to make it to the bedroom. Hell, he wasn’t going to make it to the couch. Her touch robbed him of all control, went deep inside him to shine light on all his secrets and made him feel invincible at the same time. He sank to his knees, then let Cait push him back onto the carpet. She covered him like an erotic blanket, her legs tangling around his until she captured his thigh and rocked against it with a groan.
The sensation of Finn’s thigh pressing against her core sent a shock wave through Cait that blurred the edges of her vision. She was already on the edge; the last few days had primed her for this moment, and it wouldn’t take much effort on Finn’s part to take her the rest of the way.
She could feel a similar urgency in him; the skin under her hands thrummed with energy and restrained desire, and it only fed the flames licking at her. But she also knew Finn—her body certainly did—and she knew that urgency would not translate to speed. Finn might be hungry, but he wouldn’t be rushed. The thought sent an anticipatory shiver through her.
Rising to her knees, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Finn’s hands had been at her hips, holding her, but they now slid up over her waist and ribs until he cupped her breasts, his thumbs rasping over her nipples until she nearly sobbed at the sensation.
She needed to touch him, too. To feel his skin under her hands again. She tugged his shirt out of the waist of his jeans and pushed it up. Mercy. Finn hadn’t let himself go in the intervening years. If anything, the ridges defining his torso were more pronounced. She felt a bit embarrassed over the few pounds she’d gained. But then Finn pushed himself up to peel the shirt the rest of the way off and pulled her back to the floor with him, giving her skin-to-skin contact that nearly scorched her.
She ran her tongue along his neck, and the familiar taste of his skin brought back memories of other times, other places. The growl that came from deep in his throat only sharpened the clarity of what she was doing.
It was insane. It was stupid.
It was inevitable.
From the moment she’d learned Finn was heading this project she’d known, deep down, that this would happen. Even more disturbing was the fact she’d rather hoped it would happen.
Pressing her to her back, Finn captured a nipple in his mouth, and there was no room for anything anymore. Only pleasure. Pleasure that nearly overwhelmed her.
It didn’t mean anything, she told herself almost desperately. She could enjoy it for what it was and nothing more.
It was hard to think, but she really didn’t want to, either. Nothing really made sense, anyway. Except this.
This was what got you in trouble last time. It was a sobering thought, but not one that could hold up against the moist heat of Finn’s mouth as he revisited all the places he knew would drive her wild. That place on her neck. The back of her knee. Everything became a sensual blur, and she bit her lip to keep from screaming. She might pay for this in the morning, but sometimes the high was well worth the hangover.
Then his head dipped between her thighs, and the touch of his tongue drove her right over the edge.
She recovered enough to open her eyes and focus in time to see Finn kneeling between her legs as he rolled on a condom. His eyes were dark as he met hers, and she knew he was getting close himself.
But his smile was a wicked promise as trailed his fingers along her inner thigh. “You still with me, Caity?”
In answer, she wrapped a hand around his hard length. A hiss escaped through his clenched jaw, and his fingers dug into her hips as she guided him into position.
Was that groan his? Or hers? It all blurred together as Finn slid in with agonizing, deliberate slowness until their hips met and he buried his face in her shoulder.
Cait could feel his heart slamming against his chest, and a poignant pang cut through the haze as Finn twined his fingers through hers and sighed deeply. The connection was complete. Electric. Perfect.
And terrifying. It stirred up too much inside her to not scare her.
Then Finn pushed up to his elbows and began to move.
And nothing mattered after that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“YOU’RE going to kill me, Caity.” Finn spoke to the top of Cait’s head. She was sprawled across his chest, breathing heavily, but he felt her laugh. She rolled off to the side, arms spread wide over the bed as she gasped for air.
“Not if you kill me first.” She stretched and smiled. “But I’ll die a happy woman, that’s for sure.”
They’d made it to the bedroom after the second—third?—time. He’d lost count, trapped as he was in Cait’s erotic web. He should be sated, exhausted, but he didn’t seem to have Cait out of his system yet, and the need to touch her hadn’t abated. Desire still curled through him, as if he had to make up for lost time.
Cait sat up and reached for her water on the bedside table. As she did, he noticed a scar above her right elbow. It looked recently acquired, but thoroughly healed. He ran his fingers over it. “I don’t remember seeing this on the set.”
“Makeup does a really good job covering it.” She stiffened, then twisted and tried to see over her shoulder. “Oh, hell, do I have carpet burns? I still have one more scene in a swimsuit tomorrow, and I’ll never be able to explain those away.”
“No carpet burns.” She let out a sigh of relief that caused him to laugh and earned him a half-hearted swat. “But where’d you get this?”
“Remember that night on Sunset with the guy and the camera?”
Of course. They’d been coming out of a club—pretty trashed, granted—but it had been the paparazzo that jumped in front of them, camera flashing, that had caused Cait to miss the curb and fall. She’d landed wrong and banged her arm up pretty bad. The pictures of her flat on her back had made the papers—as had the ones of him swinging for the cameraman. He’d nearly been arrested and the media circus had been a nightmare. But … “Where did the scar come from, though?”
“It turned out I actually broke the bone, and since it was never set it didn’t heal properly. It kept bothering me, until I finally went and had it checked last year. They had to go in and re-break it and put in a pin. The doc says the scar will fade eventually.” She grinned and snuggled back against his side. “Remember that one blogger who kept calling us self-destructive? Well, I now have the scar that might prove he was on to something. Looking back, I’m surprised I don’t have a lot more scars to show.”
She was laughing, but he didn’t find it funny. She’d talked about lasting damage, but he’d never thought it would be literal and physical. Guilt nagged at him. It was a new feeling that sat awkwardly on his shoulders, and he didn’t like it. “I didn’t know you’d hurt yourself that bad.”
“I know that, Finn.” She pushed up onto her elbow and the smile was gone. “And I’m not blaming you for it. Accidents happen. It’s not like we were poster children for personal responsibility. We’re just lucky that was the worst of it.”
“Yet you still carry a grudge for everything else?”
She grinned. “Absolutely. I’ll accept my fair share of responsibility, but I reserve the right to be grudgey.”
He ran a hand down her back and over her butt. “And this makes sense ho
w, then?”
“It doesn’t. But, then, I’ve never associated Finn Marshall with good decision-making, anyway. That’s probably part of what makes you so hard for me to resist.”
He understood the feeling, and as the silence stretched out that feeling warmed him. Then she sighed and pushed the rest of the way up to a seated position.
“And on that note, it’s probably time for you to be leaving.”
The words hit him like cold water. “What?”
“We both have to work tomorrow. I need to sleep for a couple of hours—and you do, too. But in a couple of hours the neighborhood will be waking up, and I really don’t want anyone to see you leaving here.”
He’d had similar thoughts, but rationality had a hard time holding up against the feel of Cait’s skin against his. “You’re kidding me.” When she shook her head, irritation slid over him. “Ashamed of yourself, are you?”
“Just don’t feel like dealing with the fallout. There’s enough melodrama out there already without making this a real soap opera.”
Technically, Cait had dodged the question, but he didn’t call her on it. She rolled off the bed and to her feet. She found a tee shirt on the floor and pulled it over her head before disappearing out into the hallway. A minute later she returned, carrying his clothes, and dropped them on the bed.
It seemed she was serious. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Not exactly.” She smiled, but it was weak and slightly humorless. “Just encouraging you to leave without feeling any guilt for not staying the night.”
“I suddenly feel cheap and tawdry.”
She cut her eyes at him. “You’re the one who showed up on my porch looking for a booty call.”
“That’s not …” He trailed off as Cait lifted an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Entirely true.”
“There was another reason bringing you to my door in the middle of the night?”
Redemption of a Hollywood Starlet Page 9
