Famously Mine: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by Roxy Reid

  I point straight ahead, toward the ocean, and she grins.

  The water is icy cold as it laps our feet, but it’s like it clears out the fog in my head. I close my eyes and breathe deeply for the first time in what feels like forever.

  “Why do you want this production company so much?” Sienna asks.

  I turn to see her studying me, as the tide withdraws, leaving our feet bare exposed in the wet sand.

  There are a million answers I could give: creative control, the next natural step in my career, a secure income when my looks go, but on this beach, next to her, all those reasons seem flip.

  “My parents are from New York,” I say instead. “Actually my whole family is. I’m the only one who came west. And they all work in the theater.”

  “I think I read that somewhere,” Sienna says.

  The tide comes in again, and I grit my teeth against the cold.

  “I don’t want to work in theater. I don’t. I get bored playing the same character for that long. And I get frustrated that half of what you’re doing isn’t legible to the people crammed into the cheap seats. And I’m sorry, I’m just not that into Shakespeare.”

  “... didn’t you win an Oscar for a Shakespeare-?”

  “-Shakespeare re-telling. That’s different.”

  I turn and start walking along the beach, the tide dancing in and out around my ankles, and Sienna falls into step beside me. “The point is, I don’t want the theater. I definitely don’t want New York. But every Thanksgiving when we sit around and talk, they’re all so damn creatively fulfilled. They throw themselves into whatever they’re working on, no holds barred. They take absolute ownership over it, no matter how big or small their part of it is, and they expect everyone else to do the same.”

  I pick up a rock and chuck it out to sea. Sienna doesn’t say anything. She’s just letting me talk.

  “I think the idea of a production company fills that same hole in me. Where I get to go all out on stories I pick. And where I don’t have to put up with the shit that is baked into so much of Hollywood. If someone is a bully, I can fire them. If someone says racist shit, I don’t have to work with them again.

  “I mean, I’m not an idiot,” I say, hurling another rock. “I know it’s not going to magically make everything easier. In fact, it will be a lot more work. But it will be work on my terms. I decide when we gamble. I decide when we play it safe. I decide when we dig our heels in the sand and say, fuck it, this matters, I don’t care if we lose money, we’re going to stand for what’s right.”

  I’m about to pick up another rock and hurl it into the ocean, but Sienna’s voice stops me.

  “Joshua King. You’re an idealist,” she says it like she’s discovering something wondrous about me.

  “I am not,” I grumble, and throw my rock. I’m pretty sure an idealist wouldn’t have a recurring dream about you going down on him. I reach for another rock, but she snatches it out of my hand and skips backward, holding it high over her head.

  “You know I can reach that,” I say.

  “Only if you catch me first, Idealist,” she takes off running and laughing, that dark hair streaming behind her.

  I race after Sienna, splashing through the surf. She’s surprisingly fast for a woman who I happen to know scorns treadmills, but I catch her, one arm wrapping around her waist to tug her back into me.

  “Take it back,” I say, as she laughs and twists to break free.

  “Never!” Sienna turns in my arms to shove at me, and I loosen my hold, in case she’s done playing, but she doesn’t slip out of my arms. If anything, her hands on my chest are turning into a caress.

  I should let her go. I should really, really let her go.

  But I’m selfish, and I don’t.

  “Well, I caught you, fair and square,” I say. “So if you’re not going to take it back, you have to give me something in return.”

  “Okay…”

  “Tell me what you want,” I say.

  She blinks, “What?”

  “What’s Sienna Bridges Big Want? The dream? The thing fueling the whole story?”

  Sienna shrugs, “I’m a person, not a movie character.”

  The wind blows, and she sidles closer against me. Probably just for warmth — her silk off-the-shoulder sweater isn’t meant for the beach — but I’ll take it.

  “No, that’s actually one thing the movies get right,” I say, looking down at her. “Everyone’s got something big they want. So what is it you want?”

  We’re straight up holding each other at this point, and instead of answering, she hides her face in my shirt.

  At first I think that means she’s really not going to answer, but then she says into my chest, “I don’t know what I mmph.”

  “What?”

  “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I WANT!” Sienna shouts. She steps away from me and throws her arms up in the air. “Everyone comes to L.A. with these big dreams – write the script, star in the movie, build the business, make the thing. And I just… don’t.” She wraps her arms around herself. “When I try and picture it I just come up with… feelings. I want to be challenged at work, and content when I leave the office. I want my life to be full of people I love. I want a closet full of shoes, and fresh herbs growing on the counter. And there’s no road-map for any of that. I mean, I love my job. But I don’t know if I want to be in marketing forever. Although, I don’t know. Maybe if I got to pick a cause I loved, or had the chance to work with someone I absolutely believe in…” She tilts her chin up defiantly. “I don’t know what my big dream is. But one day, I think I will. So until then, I’m working hard on making sure I’m in a position to jump up and follow that dream, when it comes knocking. Paying off my student loans, learning everything I can from Carlotta, volunteering with causes I think I might be interested in.”

  She tosses the rock she stole from me up and down in her hand, “I know that’s not sexy, Tell-Me-Your-Dreams beach walk talk. But that’s where I’m at right now.” She hurls the rock into the ocean. “And I don’t like lying to you.”

  “When have you lied to me?” I ask, confused. “We lie to other people. We don’t lie to each other.”

  Well, unless you count the rather big lie about how I want to fuck her brains out.

  Sienna studies me, those blue eyes stormy. I don’t know what she’s thinking about, but she seems to make a decision, because she walks toward me with purpose.

  She reaches up to put a hand on my cheek, and I hold still, motionless, scared that any movement will make her back away. But she doesn’t back away. Instead she rises on her tiptoes, and presses her lips softly into mine.

  She tastes like heat and excitement and home, all rolled into one, and I try to hold back, but Sienna Bridges is kissing me, of her own free will, no one’s watching. I lift her up, to get a better angle, and she moves with me, wrapping her legs around my waist. Her hair falls like a dark curtain around me, as a sink into her warmth and softness and that scent - her scent, that is impossible to describe but absolutely her.

  It’s so much better than every dream I’ve had.

  “I lied,” Sienna says, and it takes me a moment to remember what she’s talking about, “when I said I didn’t want to practice.”

  “Then let’s practice,” I say, and we do.

  We kiss and kiss, like horny teenagers, until finally I come to enough to realize her lips are swollen and my arms are aching. She must be realizing something similar about her legs, because she loosens them and slides back down me.

  Which, hello. That’ll make you feel every nerve in your body.

  I’m worried that means we’re done, and I’m not ready to be done. So I loop my fingers in her belt-loops and tug her toward me, which she seems to like, because soon enough she’s back in my arms, and I’m trailing my lips down her neck.

  God, she’s sweet. She’s so fucking sweet.

  I need her on me, or under me, or something, and she’s moaning. Every place I touch, every press
ure I use, comes with a new catch of breath, or a sigh, or, best of all, an answer from her hands as they slide through my hair and grip my muscles and trail along — and under — the waistband of my pants.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I fall to my knees. I know I’m rushing it, but after months of emotional foreplay, I need to taste her now.

  Sienna’s hands are in my hair, and I’m easing her zipper down, when she says, “Wait.” And then, “No.”

  I groan, and release her. Dammit, you moved to fast. If you’d only gone slower…

  But I know that’s a lie. Sienna wouldn’t sleep with a client. And that’s what I am to her. A client.

  Even if in my brain she’s completely eclipsed her original role as the contractor I hired. To her, I am, and will always be, a client. I have to remember that.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I should have asked before I… I mean I shouldn’t have in the first place… I mean…”

  “It’s not that,” Sienna says, and I look up at her.

  That’s a mistake. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair’s a mess, and her sweater has fallen off her shoulder, exposing a pale pink bra strap that is now seared into my brain.

  She looks like a woman about to be fucked, and it’s killing me.

  “The thing is,” Sienna says, tucking an unruly strand behind her ear. “I haven’t had sex yet.”

  I sink down onto my heels, stunned.

  “It’s not like a religious thing,” she hurries to explain. “It’s just the first time I fell in love, I was young, and I wasn’t ready to. We did other stuff, but not… that. And then I was busy getting over him, and then I was busy having adventures and doing what I wanted, for the first time in my life. And now that I’m older, and ready, and secure enough in my life to want to let someone else in like that … Let me tell you, trying to meet men in this city is not easy.” She laughs a little, but it sounds nervous.

  I hate that she’s nervous. I hate that I’m making her nervous. I stand up slowly, careful to give her as much physical space as she needs, “I completely understand, and I respect that. I’m sorry, I misread the situation.”

  “You didn’t misread the situation,” she peers up at me from under her lashes. “You just… sped up the situation.”

  That makes me feel a little better, but still. Idiot, thy name is Joshua King.

  “Well, I’m sorry I sped up the situation,” I hesitate, trying to think of something else to say, but there’s really no salvaging the situation. I lost my head and tried to go down on my virgin employee who I shouldn’t have been kissing in the first place.

  “I just hadn’t found someone I wanted to have sex with, who, you know, also wanted to have sex with me–”

  “You really don’t have to explain. It’s obviously your body, and absolutely your choice. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, let me drive you home–”

  “Joshua!” Sienna puts her hands on her hips, exasperated. “You’re not listening to me.”

  I bite my tongue and wait.

  “I said I hadn’t found someone I wanted to have sex with. I have now.”

  I’m trying to keep my expression neutral, because it’s none of my fucking business, but black thunderclouds are roiling inside me at the idea of Sienna with someone else. Whoever he is I want to hit him. I want to hit him, and ruin his career, and also give him a long and intensive lecture on how he should treat her well. Not necessarily in that order.

  Some of my jealousy must be showing on my face, because Sienna throws up her hands. “Oh my God, Joshua. It’s you. You are the person I want to have sex with.”

  The storm clouds vanish, but after all the misunderstandings we’ve had, I need to make sure I understand her perfectly, “But you said stop.” Understanding dawns, “Oh, you mean no, not now. Like in the future, when you’ve had some time to think about it, maybe–”

  “No, I mean like in a half hour, once you’ve found us a bed with some sheets,” Sienna gestures around us. “I’m not having sex for the first time on a beach with no blanket. You’re hot, but it just doesn’t seem comfortable…” Sienna trails off, for the first time looking unsure. “That is, if you want to?”

  “Yes! God, yes,” I kiss her again, and then again, and when I come up for air she’s smiling at me, sly and knowing and feminine.

  “Got any special requests?” I ask, my mouth inches from hers. “For your first time?” I can’t believe it’s her first time. I can’t believe she’s trusting me with her first time.

  “I’d like to be on top,” Sienna breathes. “I hear that’s the most satisfying for a woman, the first time.”

  My brain pretty much shorts out.

  “But you can be on top after that,” she says helpfully.

  “We need to find a hotel,” I growl. “Now.”

  13

  Sienna

  The hotel we find is in a wooded area overlooking the ocean, and the first thing Joshua does when we get there is throw open the balcony doors, so that the fresh sunlit air wafts through the room. The sheer white curtains waft gently in the breeze.

  Joshua turns to face me, and I have the sudden, absurd urge to laugh. I’m losing my virginity in a hotel room that looks straight out of a photoshoot, to a movie star. To my movie star. This isn’t the way people have sex for the first time. This is the way people have sex for the first time in soap operas. In romance novels. Not in real life.

  Joshua tilts his head, a small smile on his face, “What?”

  I laugh, and shake my head, and shrug. Because really, what am I supposed to say? You being in my life is unrealistic. You wanting me is unbelievable. It’s a plot hole in a universe gone gloriously crooked.

  As if. I am not giving him time to change his mind.

  He’s a better partner than me though, because even as I’m thinking that, he says, “Look, if you change your mind at any time we can stop. If it hurts, we stop. If you’re just not feeling it, or you decide you want to wait after all, or you don’t have any reason at all, you just don’t want to…”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of having sex with you?” I say.

  “No! No. God, no,” Joshua crosses the room to me, takes my face, and kisses me firmly. Like I am his to kiss.

  Which, I guess for tonight, I am.

  The knowledge sends a little shiver down my spine, and I feel that insane attraction rising in me again. I try to push it away, out of habit, and then I remember, a wonderful, glorious thing.

  I don’t have to push it away anymore. I can give in. I can fall.

  I slide my hands up Josh’s arms, and there’s nothing demure, or ladylike about it. My hands are eating him up, letting him know exactly how much I want him.

  Because tonight, he is mine.

  Joshua breaks away, and his breath is ragged. He presses his forehead to mine, “What do you want, Sienna?”

  A million fantasies flash through my mind, from the normal to the kinky, and I’m pretty sure one of them is actually a scene from one of his movies.

  I bite my lip, thinking. A girl only has sex for the first time once, after all.

  Apparently, I’m taking too long, because Joshua’s hands slide down my back, gripping my ass, pulling me in to him, and oh, he’s hard. He’s hard and it makes my knees weak.

  “Shall I tell you what I want?” he asks at the same time I say, “Take your shirt off.”

  “Oh. So she does want something,” Joshua smirks down at me, but the playfulness fades as his eyes trace my face.

  Suddenly, he kisses me, gentle and solemn. His lips drift away, finding my neck. My eyelids drift closed, and then he kisses those too.

  It’s somehow more intimate than anything we’ve done before. I brace my hands against his chest and lean back to look up at his face, “Joshua. What’s going on?”

  “I just…” he cups my cheek. “I really don’t want to screw this up. I want it to be sexy and magical and thoroughly up to your justifiably high standards. I
mean, you’ve waited this long...”

  “Joshua…”

  “I don’t want you to regret it,” he searches my eyes. “I don’t want you to regret me.”

  He doesn’t add, Whatever else happens, but I hear it all the same.

  I reach up and trace the faint smile lines at the edges of his eyes. “I won’t regret it,” I promise him.

  “But what if I… Sienna, I haven’t been with a virgin since I was a virgin, and let me tell you, I blew that pretty spectacularly.”

  “Ha. Pun. Cause, get it you…” I waggle my eyebrows salaciously, and he groans.

  “Sienna, be serious,” Joshua steps back. “It will probably hurt before it feels good, if it feels good the first time, and I don’t want to hurt you.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Because,” I say, as I step toward him and start to unbutton his shirt. “It’s cute that you’re nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous–” he breaks off and shivers as I scrape a nail over his nipple.

  I’m a virgin, not a novice, “I take it you like being touched there?”

  “Sienna, you’re not listening to, to…” he trails off as I dance my fingers along his waistband, then rise up on my toes and find a spot on his neck that shuts him up completely.

  “I’m smiling,” I say, after about five minutes of exploring Joshua King, “because that’s actually a myth.”

  “Huh?” Joshua says, his eyes dark and unfocused.

  “The thing about it hurting virgins. Most modern women have lost their hymen already. So as long as I’m relaxed, and we do a lot of foreplay…” I’m suddenly feeling shy as I say it. He’s standing there with his shirt unbuttoned, looking like sex personified, and I’m spouting medical facts from a women’s health column.

  But Joshua’s eyes sharpen on me, as he realizes what I’m saying.

  Now, he’s the one coming toward me, backing me into the bed, and I giggle, falling down on the mattress and scrambling backward. It’s like the hottest game of tag I’ve ever played.