Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(63)

His lips. The way they moved. Just like on screen, but bigger, better, wetter. Every second that passed took my breath away.

Was he waiting for something?

Me, perhaps?

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I was frozen. He didn’t belong there. We didn’t belong in the same shower. He didn’t ask first. Why wasn’t I mad? Why didn’t I scream and throw him out?

Because my nipples were tight even in the hot water. Because his body called to mine. Because I was made of flesh and blood.

And common sense. I was made of all the sensible thoughts I’d ever had.

“This can’t be a thing,” I said. “This is now. And it’s a secret.”

I didn’t do things like that. I didn’t have one-night stands or booty calls. Not for any moral reason. They just didn’t interest me anymore. Been there, done that, puked on the T-shirt. Until now, and now was all I had.

“That’s a yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to, exactly, but I was okay with it, whatever it was. As long as it was now, when I wanted it, not when I could make excuses for it.

He crashed his lips into mine.

Without his daughter between us, away from his property, far from Los Angeles, I let myself feel the things I’d forced away.

You’re allowed.

It was such a conscious decision to let go. I had to tell myself I was allowed to enjoy his mouth, his hands, and the pressure of his body against mine. But once I did I was flooded with the agreement of mind and body.

Go ahead.

I kissed him back fully. His hands went down my back, over my ass, grabbing it and pulling me into him.

“How long does she nap?” he whispered in my ear.

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Turn around.”

He turned me gently until I faced the wall with the shower head.

“Let’s get this soap out. Come on. Head back.”

He stroked my hair, letting the water run through it, running his hands over my body in tandem with the superheated water. I groaned when his hands drifted low, slipped between my legs, pressed down where I throbbed most. I bent my knees and spread my legs so he could get all the way down.

Losing my mind. I was losing my mind.

“Do you want me to f*ck you?” he said into my ear.

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but . . .” The last word dropped into a groan as he stroked my clit. My legs wouldn’t hold me.

“Not just once. This isn’t a one-time deal. God, you’re so f*cking sexy. I need more than forty-five minutes.”

“We can’t be a thing. Say it’s not a thing. I can’t be a thing.”

“Not a thing.” He pulled moisture from inside me and ran it along my clit.

“Zip it. Oh, God, lock it.”

“Put it in your pocket.”

He punched the shower knob, shutting off the water.

“Not standing in the shower,” he said. “Not the first time.”

He picked me up, both of us soaking wet, and carried me out of the shower with my legs wrapped around him. He dropped me on the bed and stood there, hair dripping wet, shirt sticking to his utter perfection. I got on my knees and he gently pushed me back down.

“I want to look at you, teacup. We don’t have a hell of a lot of time.”

He peeled his shirt off and tossed it. His wet shorts hung heavy and low on his waist. Past the line dropping below his navel. Past the V at the top of his legs and bottom of his abdomen. Way past propriety.

“Time, Brad. We don’t have a lot.”

“Yeah—and I’ve wanted you too long. What a good girl you were. Stayed on the subject. Never looked at me. Never flirted.”

He took me by my knees and opened my legs slowly. That action alone sent shock waves through me.

“I saw you look at me.”

“And?”

He put his lips on my inner thigh.

“I wanted you, but—” I gasped and stopped when he nipped the sensitive skin.

“But?”

“No but.” Saying the truth was hard, because I hadn’t let myself consider it fully, not when his mouth was near me and his hands pulled my skin so he could see where I was most tender. “I want you to f*ck me.”

I could barely breathe it. I hadn’t let words like that leave my lips for a long time, and they felt so good.

He wrestled with his fly and his pants dropped with a wet slap. His dick was long and, God help me, so hard the skin stretched.

From the other room, his phone dinged. He didn’t even pause for it. I felt like the most important woman in the world. Just for the moment, his world was mine.

“Tell me how you want me to f*ck you,” he said, moving to the inside of my other thigh, making me crazy with lust.

I was out of practice, but his lips inspired me. And his hand, stroking my folds ever so lightly, yes.

“That day you saw me in the shower?”

“Mm hm.”

“I was thinking about you deep inside me so hard. I was sucking your fingers as you took me.”

He looked up at me and kissed my mound. “I had no idea.”

“What?”

“That you had such a dirty mouth.”