Hollywood Playboy

by Natasha Madison

  “We are having dinner with my parents tonight,” he tells me—not asks, I might add—“in my suite.” I roll my eyes. “It’ll be just the four of us.” Standing in front of me, he bends and softly kisses my exposed shoulder. “I want you to officially meet my parents, and I want my parents to get to know you.” He kisses me again, this time moving up toward my neck. “Cassie is not in this; she doesn’t get this.” He kisses again as I breathe out deeply. “I want this only for me right now. Just you, me, and my parents.”

  “Okay,” I finally whisper. “Fine.”

  “Good,” he says. His lips come down on mine, and I finally kiss him. “It’s been too long,” he says, then turns his head to the other side, taking the kiss deeper. His hands go to my hips, then move to my back and my ass, and he grabs me, bringing me closer. “I can’t get enough,” he admits, and I know the feeling. Every single time feels like the first time, every single kiss leaves me more breathless than the last one, and every single touch makes me crave the next one. “Jess,” he whispers, picking me up, and my legs wrap around his hips, my arms around his neck. “Jess.” He says my name again and again between kisses. He lays me on my bed, and for the next hour, all he says is my name.

  “What time will you come up?” Tyler asks me while he slips his jeans back on. I’m lying on my side naked under the sheet on my bed. “I told my parents to be there at five,” he says, grabbing his sweater, “unless you want to come with me now?” He grabs his shoes and puts them on. “So you’re there when they get there.”

  “But what if someone.” I say someone, but we both know I’m talking about Cassie. “What if she comes in, and it’s awkward again, and then I put your parents in the situation where they have to be uncomfortable and lie about it.”

  “I promise you she isn’t coming, and she doesn’t have a key.” He sits on the bed next to me. “Come up with me. Bring your work and you can sit with me, and we can both work side by side.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask him, and he just leans down and kisses me. “Okay. But I need to shower. I don’t want to meet your parents again and smell like I just had sex with their son.”

  “But you did just have sex with their son. Twice,” he says, laughing, and I turn and look at him.

  I fold my arms over my chest. “Do you plan on having more sex with me later?” I glare at him as he laughs.

  “At least two more times, three depending,” he answers honestly, getting up and kicking off his shoes. “We should have it once more now just in case.”

  “No.” I point at him, yelling, “If you come with me, you are going to get my hair wet, and then I’ll have to fix it all over again.” I don’t give him time to answer as I turn and lock the door behind me. My shower is quick, and I’m drying off when I finally unlock the door.

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says. “You can just send it up to my room.” He turns and looks at me wrapped in a towel, my hair piled on top of my head. I grab my luggage that is by the door, bringing it inside and plopping it on the floor, opening it and sitting down in front of it.

  “I’m so tired of living out of a suitcase,” I tell him, tossing things around. “Should I wear jeans or a dress?” I ask him over my shoulder as he sits down on the bench at the foot of the bed. I grab my blue jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with my black bra and thong. I put my bra and panties on first and then shimmy my jeans up. Grabbing the shirt, I pull it over my head, the sleeves cut down the middle, but then tied at the elbow with a big bow. I tuck in the front and then turn to look at him. “Should I wear sneakers or heels?”

  “If it was just us, I would say wear nothing,” he answers me, then smirks. “But since it’s with my parents, just wear something comfortable.” I shake my head; there is nothing comfortable about sitting at a table with the parents of the guy you are with or having sex with.

  “You think they are going to know we are sleeping together?” I ask him, grabbing my black ballerina shoes. “Like they will probably get the fact that we like each other, or whatever, but will they know that we, you know?” I feel like a girl in high school again.

  He throws his head back and laughs. “Jess, I’m in my thirties. I don’t think my parents even think of when or if I’m having sex.”

  “Fine, whatever,” I say, walking to the side of the bed where I had set my laptop once he got me on the bed and half naked. “My stomach is killing me,” I say honestly. “I’ve met Oprah, for fuck’s sake, and I wasn’t this nervous.” Putting the computer in my bag, I pick it up and sling it over my shoulder.

  He stands and walks over to me, placing his hands on my cheeks. “Everything is going to be good, and if it isn’t, there is always breakfast.” He laughs, kissing me. “Now let’s go.” He entwines our fingers and pulls me to the elevator.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tyler

  G.T.L. IS BACK EXCEPT THIS TIME THEY ARE GOING TO VEGAS.

  I hold her hand the whole way to my room, not giving her a chance to run away or hide. When she met my parents in the lobby, I thought it would be a great day, but then Cassie interrupted us. I watched it happen right in front of me, but I couldn’t lean over and grab her hand to reassure her. I couldn’t do shit while she put up those walls and felt like she didn’t belong. But she does. She belongs there next to me, and I wanted to kill Cassie.

  I scan my key card and open the door. Walking into the cream marble entrance, we pass the guest bathroom and make our way to the living room. “Holy shit,” she says, setting her purse on the couch as she walks out to the office, which is enclosed with windows, and then she steps outside to the balcony and sees the Eiffel Tower. “Look at how pretty,” she says, smiling at me over her shoulder. Her beauty gets me every single time, so I stop and look at her. She puts her hands on the railing, and I make my way outside, looping my arms around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck. Her hands cover mine, and she tilts her head a bit to give me better access. “I bet when it lights up, it fills the sky,” she says, still looking out at the scenery.

  “Do you want to work outside?” I ask her, and she just nods her head. “Okay, I’ll go get your stuff.” Kissing her cheek, I turn to walk inside to grab her bag and then hear a knock on the door. I walk to it and when I open the door, the bellman holds up what I was waiting for. “Thank you.” I smile at him and then walk back into the penthouse.

  “Hey,” she says, coming inside. “Where did you go?” She comes inside the room, eyeing the tan garment bag. “What is that?”

  “First,” I start, “don’t get pissed.” She immediately goes into a pissed-off stance with her hip cocked, arms crossed at her chest, and eyes narrowed. “Well, that helped.” Laughing, I unzip the bag and take the dress out. “I know you’re walking with me tomorrow, and I’m sure that you have a dress, but when I saw this in the window, all I saw was you wearing this on my arm.” She walks to me, her eyes on the dress.

  “It’s so pretty.” Her hands touch the lace of the dress, picking up one of the sleeves. It’s a one-shoulder nude slip dress with black lace embroidered over it. The dress is pulled in at the waist and bunched together at one side with a slit down the side.

  “It’s so delicate. I don’t know if I can pull this off.” Her fingers roam over the dress.

  “How about you try it on tonight, and then we can see tomorrow?” I walk to the master bedroom and hang it in there. “If you like it, you can wear it.”

  “I love it, but . . .” she starts, but another knock on the door interrupts her. Looking down at my watch, I realize it’s probably my parents. “Oh my God,” she says, and her hand goes to her stomach, “that feeling, it’s back.”

  I walk to her, taking her hand in mine and bringing them to my lips. “I promise you everything is going to be okay.” She nods at me, and I hear another knock on the door. “I have to go let my parents in.”

  “I’ll wait on the couch so they don’t think we were having sex.” She smooths down her shirt, and we walk out. I head to t
he door, and she goes to the couch.

  Swinging open the door, I see my parents there with big smiles on their face. “Hey.” Moving away from the door, I say, “Come in.”

  My mother walks in first, followed by my father, and they close the door behind them. “This is just as beautiful as ours,” my mother says. “We have a huge balcony.”

  “It’s too much,” my father says, and we finally make it into the living room. I’m expecting to see Jessica, but she isn’t there. “The room has two couch sets.” I walk outside to the balcony, and sure enough, there she is, looking at the skyline.

  “Mom, Dad,” I say, and she turns around to look at us with a smile, “you remember Jessica.”

  “Of course,” my mother says, going to her and hugging her again. “You look lovely, dear,” she says and stands next to her. “Now look at this view, Frank.”

  My father stands next to me and hums. “What do you guys want to drink?” I ask them.

  “I’ll have some wine,” my mother says, and I look at Jessica who just nods.

  “I’ll help you,” my father says, following me into the room. I go to the bar, opening a bottle of white wine.

  “Let’s have it.” I know he’s standing there, waiting to talk to me.

  “Son,” he starts, and I take out a bottle of beer, twisting off the cap and handing it to him, “she’s a reporter.” His voice lowers. “A beautiful one, but still a reporter.”

  “I know, Dad,” I say quietly, looking out the window to make sure she doesn’t come in, “but it’s, I don’t know.” I shrug. “It’s different. She doesn’t ask me shit, and we sit down and talk about everything.” He doesn’t say anything, maybe knowing I’m not done yet. “She makes it normal and not about what I have to offer or what I can do for her career.” I twist off my own beer cap and drink down a long pull. “Shit, when we started this trip, we hated each other, but she makes me laugh. If she is going to argue with me, she is going to argue with me and doesn’t give a shit about me or my ego.”

  “You’re falling for her,” he points out. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Me, too, Dad,” I admit. “Me, too. No one knows about us, not even Cassie.” His eyebrows shoot up in the air. “Let’s just say that Cassie didn’t play nice at the beginning, and well, my girl wasn’t going to take it, so she got her barred from the interview rooms when she’s in there.” I laugh, thinking about how she stood up to her and how she kept her ground.

  My father shakes his head. “One of these days, you are going to have to pick a side, son,” he tells me, and I really hope I don’t have to. “The question is, which side are you going to pick?” I drop my head back and let out a huge breath.

  “Let’s go and get to know your woman,” he says, and I smile now. My woman. Yes, let’s. We walk out to the balcony. My father carries my mother’s wine glass and hands it to her. She wraps her arm around his waist. I hand Jessica hers, staying at her side, and she just smiles at me.

  “Isn’t this pretty?” my mother says, and I nod. I grab Jessica’s pinky with mine, and I’m surprised when she curls it with mine and doesn’t pull away.

  “You want to sit?” I ask Jessica, and she nods, walking over to the huge round table that is big enough for about eight people but only has four chairs. A low huge centerpiece of pink roses fills the table. My mother and father follow and sit down at the table.

  “So tell me, Jessica,” my mother starts, “what do you do?” My father chuckles beside her. “I’m getting to know her. Stop it.” She looks back at Jessica. “I don’t mean to pry,” she says and then leans in, “it’s just I’ve never really met any of Tyler’s friends.”

  “Oh, dear God,” I mumble. Grabbing my beer, I down most of it. “For the love of all that is, I’ve already told you what she does.’”

  Jessica reaches over and puts her hand on mine. “It’s fine.” She smiles at me, and I know it will be. “I’m a reporter. A celebrity reporter.”

  “Oh, that sounds like fun,” my mother says. “How long have you been doing this?”

  “It feels like forever,” she says, sitting back in the chair. “It’s safe to say I didn’t think this is where my career would take me.”

  “No?” my mother asks, and I even look at her surprised. “Really? What were your plans?”

  “I started this job just to get some experience under my belt. My dream job would be an investigative reporter.”

  “Really?” I say out loud, looking at her.

  “Yes,” she says, laughing and then looks at my mother. “I was giving myself two years, and then I would apply to other jobs and branch out, but”—she shrugs—“I chickened out. And well, the time just went by, year after year, and now, I don’t know if they would even take me seriously.”

  “How so?” I ask her.

  “I’m a reporter for celebrities,” she says and then leans forward. “I report when people are having affairs, or give birth, even engaged.” She smiles, and I see that it’s not sincere. “And well, it’s not very serious.” Crossing her arms and leaning on her elbow, she says, “Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do.”

  “But it’s not fulfilling,” my mother supplies. “Oh my God,” she shrieks, “you’re the one who interviewed Oprah!” I shake my head, now laughing. “Oh my God.” She puts her glass of wine on the table, bringing her hand to her mouth. “I remember watching the interview and thinking how smart you sounded.”

  “Thank you,” Jessica says, looking down. Her hair falls in the front, so she tucks it back behind her ear, and I lean forward now, not stopping, not caring. She turns and looks at me, and I lean over and kiss her on her lips softly and gently, then I sit back and look at my mother, who just looks at us with a huge smile on her face. My father’s concerned this could go terribly wrong. If that happens, my mother will probably be hurt, and if she is, he is going to rip me a new asshole. I may be his son, but she’s his soul.

  “I’ll go and see where the food is,” I say, getting up. “Do you want more wine?” I ask my mother, and then look at Jessica, who is already standing up.

  “I’ll come and help,” she tells me and grabs my father’s empty beer bottle. “Would you like another one, Mr. Beckett?” He just smiles at her and nods. She walks in with me and drops the bottle on the bar, and I grab her hand, dragging her into the bedroom. Closing the door behind her, I push her up against the door and her eyes widen when I put my hands near her head. “Tyler.” I don’t let her say another word. I kiss her, feeling her, my heart finally beating slow again, her hands on my chest. She releases me with a groan. “Your parents are outside, and you kissed me in front of them.”

  “Yeah, baby,” I say, calling her that nickname for the first time, “you’re lucky it was just a soft one.”

  “Tyler,” she says again, “I thought . . .”

  “No.” I put a finger on her lips to stop her from talking. “Not with my parents. I’m not going to hide in front of my parents. Not when it’s just us. My parents in this hotel room are my safe spaces; a rare opportunity for me to have a sense of normalcy.”

  “But,” she says with my hand still on her lips.

  “But nothing.” Her eyes are looking into mine. “If you give me just one thing, let it be this.”

  “Okay,” she says softly, “but let’s keep it classy.” She laughs. “No sucking face.”

  I don’t know how she does it, but I roar out with a laugh. “Let me go call the food, and you get my father another beer.”

  “Okay,” she says, and I let her go and open the door, walking out, holding her hand. “Do you want another beer?” she asks, stepping behind the bar and taking out two beers. “I’ll wait outside,” she says, and I just nod at her. I call for the food, and he’s there in five minutes as two people go outside and set up the food for the night. We spend the night out on the balcony, and Mom asks Jessica questions about every celebrity she can think of. I just sit back and let my girl have her moment. When it’s fin
ally dark outside, the lights on the Eiffel Tower turn on and are stunning. My mother claps her hands together as she gushes over the beauty of it. I sit back, realizing I haven’t been this content in a long time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jessica

  Everyone is waiting for France’s most eligible bachelor to make his grand debut with his new lady love. He’s keeping this one hidden.

  I’m sitting in my journalist chair while I wait for Tyler to come in again for another round of interviews. At this point, I’m running out of things to ask him about the same movie. I see him walking in, his hand typing away on his phone. He’s wearing dark black jeans with a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Here,” he says, handing his phone to Cassie at the entrance to the room and then coming in to sit in the chair in front of me.

  “Good morning,” he says even though he whispered that this morning right before my alarm went off at six and he slid into me. I don’t know how he times it, but it’s almost like he is synchronized with the clock.

  “Good morning.” I smile at him, my legs crossed. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” I ask him, and he smiles at me.

  “Lovely indeed,” he says. “You know what would make it extra lovely?” He looks back at the door to make sure no one is around. “Berry fondue.”

  I nod my head, rolling my lips in. “I don’t know. Having a berry kind of makes me itchy.” I laugh at him and then shake my head. “Is it good to be back in Paris?”

  He knows that we have switched hats, and I’m now Jessica the reporter and he’s Tyler the superstar. “It’s always nice to come back to Paris. It’s even better this time since I have my parents here with me. I get to show them around and point out all the places we shot in the movie.”