Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(24)

Paula made the face where she tightened her lips and raised her eyebrows. Disapproval. She was the gauge for when I went over the line, but ever since Nicole, the dial on my barometer had changed.

And I was in charge. No one ever told my father how to raise us.

“I’m going. I’m taking Nicole, and you know what else?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I leaned out the door and called down the hall.

“Blakely!”

Her disembodied voice called back.

“Yeah?”

“Get dressed to come with us.”

“What?”

I didn’t repeat, but turned to Paula.

“I don’t care if people talk. My daughter can wear whatever she wants. This is my house. This is my business. I’ll tell Cara to stay home.”

I left because I didn’t want Paula to talk sense into me. Everyone in the business could kiss my ass. I went to the pool house with all the righteous anger of a man doing what he wanted without asking permission for a damn thing.



A neighborhood where you didn’t have to lock the doors was a cliché. Small-town nostalgia. Small towns sucked. You couldn’t dream in a small town. But the unlocked door thing was real. I never knocked to go anywhere. I walked in and out of every house on my street because that was what we did.

The pool house was on my property. I owned it. Sure it was a private space, but I was a product of my childhood. The glass doors in the back were wide open, so I just went in to tell Cara she had the night off.

When I heard the shower running I should have left. Obviously. But I went into her room. Peeked. I was making sure it was the shower and not just a faucet.

Yes, that was it. If it was a faucet, I could go in and talk to her. So I was checking.

Her jeans were stretched over the floor in the shape of the letter W. And the water sound was definitely coming from the shower.

A gentleman would leave.

But I hadn’t been a gentleman since I crossed into LA County in my 2003 Chevy Cavalier. Nope. I was ruled by my career and my dick. Right then, my dick was doing the decision-making, and the door to the bathroom was ajar, and the door to the shower was glass.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Yeah.

The water and steam obscured my view from full porn-site clarity, but that made the scene even sexier.

If that was possible.

She had one hand on the wall in front of her and the other, God help me, between her legs. I could see the shape of her tits and her ass sticking up.

Head thrown back.

Ass rotating.

Skin slick and shiny.

My dick was at full attention.

I could smell her soap and hear her just over the sound of the water.

I’d stepped close to the door without realizing I’d done it. That was the dick doing the thinking.

She groaned. I saw her mouth open. A dark oval behind the wet glass.

I was really going to have to go jerk off immediately.

Then she came, bending the arm that was on the wall until she was pressed against it. A long groan bounced off the tiles.

Fuck f*ck f*ck.

I wanted to see her come for me.

Like that. For me. Yeah.

I wanted to f*ck her blind. Fuck her open. The dick told me to go into the shower and take her. The dick hadn’t been refused in years. The dick got what it wanted and right then it wanted Cara DuMont so bad I thought the blood rushing to it would break it.

I had a moment of sense. A moment where I could have turned around and waited in the living room, or outside, or on Mars. And that sense wasn’t overwhelmed by the dick. Nope, I was going to get in my rocket ship and go to f*cking Mars, but probably the living room. I was going to leave.

But the shower door clicked open.

And my brain felt all the shame you’d expect, but the dick? The dick just saw her soaped-up tits and the length of her slick thighs.

Did I mention I left my jacket in the main house? I had nothing to hide the eight-inch boner pressing against my leg.





CHAPTER 18


CARA


I was recovering from my orgasm when I realized I needed shampoo and it was under the sink. I was going to be late if I didn’t snap to it, so I opened the door without taking another breath and there he was.

I didn’t scream because I sucked air in so fast.

“Shit!” he cried, putting his hand over his eyes like a kid in a scary movie.

Oh my God, he had a tent in his pants.

Not a tent. A tour bus.

“What the hell?”

I was too stunned to close the shower door. It was glass, so what was the point?

I covered myself, one arm barely covering my breasts and the other the triangle between my legs.

“I’m sorry! I was just—” He took one hand off his eyes to point over there, wherever that was.

“Are you serious?”

“Nicole! I was going to—”

“Get out!”

I took my arm off my chest and reached out to slam the bathroom door. But even with him out of my sight I felt him. His eyes. How they’d gone from my body and shot up to my face before he covered them.

My clothes were on the other side of the door.

I was embarrassed and angry. I didn’t want to think about what he’d seen me doing.

How about that boner?

I was also tingling from the prospect of him seeing me with my hand between my legs. Everything about this was uncomfortable and weird and arousing.