Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(83)

“I want to f*ck you right here, teacup.”

“The engraved invitation’s in the mail.” I raised my leg over his waist and he tucked his hand behind my knee. “It says, ‘Your dick is cordially invited to come inside.’”

He laughed, but not for long, because the hand that was behind my knee trailed over my thigh and went right under my underpants. We both gasped at the same time. I was wetter than I thought, reactive to his touch. I felt as if lightning had struck where he moved.

“I can’t f*ck you fast enough,” he said, yanking at my underpants. I got them down, pulling a leg out while he got his fly open.

“Go.” I got my leg around his waist again. “Take it. Take it hard.”

I barely had the last word out before he took my breath away, entering me in two fast strokes.

He pushed forward, and I wrapped my legs around him, digging my fingers in his hair.

Sometimes, not very often, but sometimes I looked at him and couldn’t believe he wanted me even once. Sometimes he was even more gorgeous than a human should have been allowed to be. Sometimes I felt broken and unwanted, and his desire didn’t match how I felt about myself.

This wasn’t one of those times.

He was as beautiful as ever, but starkly human. Flawed beyond belief. Emotional and broken. He needed me to fill his empty places and in letting me do that, he filled mine.

My heart almost spoke through my lips, but he moaned in my ear first. I thought he’d give me pure filth, but his heart was doing its own speaking.

“I never . . . Cara . . . I never wanted a woman like this before.”

He kissed my neck, f*cking me standing, and I couldn’t hear myself think past the roar of emotion and pleasure.

“I just want to get inside you,” he said, lip to lip before he rammed into me again with his dick wedged between my legs and his tongue in my mouth.

I felt as if I was getting f*cked on both ends, fast and hard, as deep inside me as possible.

Never. I’d never been f*cked like this.

My lungs emptied when I cried out. His tongue was still in my mouth when I came. He held me up when my legs stiffened and my back curved like a cat’s. He sped up his motions, hitting my center over and over. I pulled away from his mouth and gulped air in his rhythm.

“Coming inside you,” he grunted, then got just a little deeper inside me and whispered, “Cara Cara Cara. I’m sorry, Cara.”

I thought he was apologizing for what he’d done in the past, but he wasn’t. He was apologizing for what he would do in the future.





CHAPTER 65


BRAD


Cara’s phone came in the mail with a dead battery. She plugged it into the outlet by the toaster and didn’t say a thing.

“Cara?”

“Yeah?”

“The phone?”

“It’ll take just a couple of hours to charge.”

“I left it in the hotel.” I cleared my throat, because she wasn’t getting what I was trying to say. “On purpose.”

“Why?”

“The pictures. If you were connected, you’d see them. It was f*cked up. Very f*cked up. I’m sorry.”

Fists on hips, she leaned on one foot.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

Mom and Nicole came in before I had to answer.

But yes. I had more things to tell Cara. One thing. The thing I’d forgotten because I was preoccupied with an airplane-bathroom blow job. But there’s only so much a guy can do. Only so much a girl can hear. I was getting to it. I swore it. But not now. Just not now.

Before I’d gone to the kitchen to discover the box of dyslexia books, Paula had gone over the details of my youthful stupidity in fine detail, sending me a letter from Brenda Garcia’s lawyer five years before.

It took me an hour to decipher words that seemed created just to confuse my scrambled-egg brain.

Mr. Sinclair,

You have been named the father of Baby Garcia. The mother, Brenda Garcia, would like to offer you the opportunity to take a DNA test to prove paternity. Should the test prove positive, you will be held responsible for child support and have the right to visitation as set out in family court.

You also have the opportunity to decline paternity filings, and in doing so you understand you relinquish any and all parental rights, including visitation rights to the child in perpetuity.

Sincerely,

Carlina Cruz, Esq.

There had been a voluntary relinquishment form. I’d signed it with my big stupid signature. Couldn’t even pretend to deny it.

So, I’d known. But I barely read the thing because I was distracted and Paula had just told me the deal in a sentence. Something on the order of, “You knocked up some girl and if you don’t want to have your wages garnished forever, just sign here.”

That sounded ridiculous even in my own head. Maybe I remembered it that way, but blaming Paula wasn’t going to make me look like a saint. Not to Cara, and she was the only woman I wanted to canonize me.

With Nicole upstairs with Cara, I tried to tell myself the story in a way that would excuse me, but nothing worked. I’d given her up. I’d said “no” to being her father, then forgotten about her before the plane even landed. I made millions while her mother had to keep her in a cabinet at Coffee Chain when she couldn’t get a sitter.