One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(16)

I quietly listen for any sign of Kaylee. I listen for the shower, but it isn't running, and I don't hear movement from the kitchen.

I search for her clothes on the floor, or her phone on the nightstand, and come up with nothing—she's gone. Her absence is immediately noticeable. Disappointment washes over me at the thought of her leaving—without a goodbye—without even a phone number.

It's then I hear the dull buzz of a phone. Instead of bothering to find it, I throw myself back on the bed and cover my face with the pillow again, ignoring it. I'm not ready to deal with reality when all I want to do is be lost in Kaylee.

Closing my eyes, I succumb to the memories of Kaylee last night…on top of me, under me, and in front of me. On all fours, on her back, and with her legs wrapped tightly around me.

We tried damn near every position and every single one of them was my favorite—or maybe it was just her. She made me feel things I've never felt before—and I fucking loved it. I need more of it. Sex with Kaylee is like a drug. I'm dying for my next fix.

My mouth waters as I remember how she tasted.

That neck.

Those breasts.

Her pussy.

I'll never forget how my tongue explored every inch of her soft, sweet body. My skin tingles as I remember how my fingers touched every inch of her.

I try to doze off, shrugging off the disappointment her absence has left, but the damn buzzing of my phone won't let me. It's when the doorbell rings over and over that I force myself out of bed. Twisting a sheet around my waist, I shuffle down the hallway to the door.

“Hold on,” I mumble as I approach. Through the peephole, I can see the stick straight dark hair and bright red lips that can only belong to Kendall. Fuck.

“Morning, Kendall!” I smile as I open the door and step back to let her in. I run my hands through my wild hair and wait for her reaction.

She steps inside, her long legs covered in leather pants, and an oversized sheer white shirt covers her tan skin. An arm full of bangle bracelets make all kinds of fucking annoying racket as her heels click on the floor, causing my head to pound even harder.

With her cell phone pressed to her ear, I can hear copious amounts of yelling on the other end. She remains calm, which tells me she's dealing with another client issue.

Thank God.

But, it's when she turns toward me that I see the look in her eye. The look I've seen more than a couple times when she's bailing me out of the bullshit I drag her ass into. The look that says I'm fucking dead meat. The look that tells me I better get my shit together—and fast.

Finally pulling her phone from her ear, she just looks at me. I'm not sure if it's disappointment, disgust, or hatred. It's a look I've seen all too often from her, though, and I hate that look.

“What in the ever-loving fuck were you thinking?” she barks at me as she shoves her phone into her back pocket.

I sigh exaggeratedly. “What, Kendall? I'm a grown man. I can bring a woman home if I want too.” I don’t know how Kendall even keeps me as a client. I swear, this is my excuse every time. I mean, what am I supposed to say? I shouldn't have to have an excuse to get laid every now and then. A man has needs.

Her eyes are so narrow I can barely make out the color of her irises. “Have you even turned on the television, Pax?” She points to the large television that sits on the wall in my den. “Whatever her name is, was seen crawling over your fence this morning. They have pictures of her, Pax, climbing…over…your…fence…in a dress. Who is she?” Her voice is high-pitched and fast. She wants answers, and my brain is moving at the speed of a snail in molasses right now.

“Calm the fuck down,” I tell her and walk toward the den where I throw myself onto the oversized sectional, reaching for the remote control. Pushing a few buttons, the TV roars to life and, sure as shit, there is Kaylee…black dress, bare feet, and wild hair, scaling my gates. I try to crack a smile as I see her struggle to get over. God, she’s beautiful.

“Who. Is. She. Pax?” Kendall asks bitterly, following me into the room. I don't even know how to answer all the questions she's asking me, nor does she deserve an answer. Kaylee isn’t her business. She slams her hand down on the sofa table to get my attention.

“Who is she? How did you meet her? Are you dating? How do you know her?” She pulls her phone from her pocket as it vibrates wildly in her hand. “Give me some goddamn answers, Pax! I have every fucking media outlet in the United States and half of them from Europe blowing up my phone. They want a statement. They want to know if America’s most eligible bachelor is off the market, and I don’t even know this bitch’s name!” she yells at me. “And for the love of God, put some fucking clothes on.”

She rolls her eyes at me and steps away to take the call that’s coming in.

I don't care about clothes right now. All I care about is right there on my television set. Kaylee. Her picture scrolling across the television.

Mystery woman.

Escort.

Who is she?

My stomach flips when I see a breaking news banner begin flashing before my eyes.

Mystery solved! Kaylee Burton. Kindergarten teacher, it reads.

They know who she is. The sudden urge to protect Kaylee from this mess takes over. She didn't want this life. She didn't ask for this. My selfish ass, wanting her—needing her—brought her into this.