One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(6)

“Rubbish,” Roger said, giving a good go at his best English accent. “You have to come. You’ve only gotten half the experience of a premiere. You need a taste of the entire thing.”

Energy stirred, and I sucked in a breath, that presence engulfing me as Paxton edged up to bring his chest to my back, words a whisper in my ear. “Yes, you definitely need to get a taste of the entire thing. God knows I want a taste.”

Oh, Lord.

I was in trouble.

So, so much trouble.





Chapter 4





Paxton





The limo door slams closed behind me as I slide onto the leather seat with a loud sigh. My dick pitifully throbs in my pants as I think about Kaylee and her soft skin that I was able to chance a brief touch.

How the fuck does a girl I've never met, never seen before, stumble into my arms and have this effect on me?

I'm Paxton Myles. I can have any woman in Hollywood, or better yet, the free world. Yet, a fucking petite blonde kindergarten teacher who literally trips into my arms is what's causing my dick to react this way.

Shit.

I shake my head at myself.

I shift uncomfortably, adjusting myself, and reach for the bottle of whiskey from the wet bar. Tossing a few ice cubes into the crystal rocks glass, I serve up a healthy pour of the alcohol.

That dress.

Those legs.

Her perfect tits.

Fuck.

I close my eyes, pitching my head back against the leather seat as visions of her assault me. I grumble as thoughts of Kaylee dance around my head. Thoughts of her legs wrapped around me fill my mind, and my dick throbs harder. I envision the feel of her nipples pebbling in my mouth as my tongue laps circles around her sweet flesh.

Pressing the crystal glass to my mouth, I slam the smooth amber liquid and purse my lips as I swallow hard. I blow a puff of hot air from my lungs and grit my teeth before pouring another two fingers of premium whiskey into the empty glass. I shake my head as the warm, rich liquid settles into my stomach.

I remember my father telling me whiskey is meant to be sipped…enjoyed. Not slammed.

However, right now, I need something to take the edge and my mind off the beautiful Kaylee Rose. Something to kill the sinful thoughts I'm having of Kaylee right now; on top of me, underneath me...pressed against a wall. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself and brush my hand over my face.

As the limo rolls to a stop, the sound of Whitney Brenna's soft moans fill the car. I chance a glance to my right and see Philip has his hand up her dress and his lips pressed to her neck. My man has been wanting to tap Whitney since he co-starred with her on some daytime soap opera over a year ago.

I scoot toward the door, doing the best to adjust my semi-hard dick before the paparazzi catch a picture of my boner. “Game time,” I tell myself as I exit the limo, stepping out into the tepid Los Angeles air.

I straighten my bow tie and button my suit coat. With the tilt of my head, I flash the million-dollar smile that's made me rich, and I saunter into the Hollywood Highlands Hotel.

The after party is in full swing. Not an expense was spared—as usual. Gift bags line long tables for the guests to take, and I watch ladies elbow each other for the chance to get their hands on one. The swag bags are always a hit with the non-industry people.

The sound of laughter fills the large, open room. I smile politely and nod as people congratulate me on my performance in passing. A few stop to talk me up, and I do my best to appear interested, when in actuality, I don't give two fucks about their assessment of my acting.

With my fake smile plastered on, I stare blankly at them, casually looking over their shoulders and through the sea of bodies in hopes of seeing my girl. My girl. Even if she’s mine for only one night. Presumptuous of me? Probably. But I don't give a shit. I have one goal in mind tonight and that's Kaylee Rose.

The open bar ensures that alcohol is flowing and people stand around in small groups talking and laughing. This is the best part of this business—the parties, the booze, the women.

Across the room, I finally catch a glimpse of Kaylee. Her back pressed firmly to a wall, a glass of wine clutched between both of her hands. Kaylee is deep in conversation with Lindsay Ward when I make my way over to them.

“Ladies,” I say, announcing my approach. Wrapping an arm around Lindsay Ward’s shoulders, I lean into her. “Looking as beautiful as ever tonight, Mrs. Ward.” She shakes her head and laughs.

“You are such a charmer, Paxton.” She pats my chest and leans into me. “Here, I'd like you to meet Kaylee Rose. This is Eleanor's best friend.”

Lindsay tugs on Kaylee's arm, pulling her closer to us. So close I can smell her floral perfume. So close I can almost feel her soft skin. So close, but not close enough for what I need from her.

“And thank goodness she's responsible and actually showed up tonight. I don't know what has gotten into Elle lately,” her voice trails off, not that I was really listening anyway. I’ve been lost in Kaylee since she fell into my arms. Everything else has been a mere distraction. “You two were quite chatty during the movie,” she says, one of her eyebrows arching in curiosity. “Have you two met before?”

It's easy to see Kaylee's cheeks flush a bright shade of pink at our introduction. She refuses to look up at me and keeps her eyes cast down at the glass of wine that her long, lean fingers twirl in her hands.