Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(17)

He drained his beer, choking a little on the last gulp. “Thanks.”

“Look, I clearly didn’t earn my fee here tonight, but I’m hoping you’ll let me make it up to you in a more fully clothed type way.” She could feel Louis’s body heat behind her, giving her a little kick of confidence. “What’s your favorite movie?”

The groom looked thrown by the question, but he finally answered. “I don’t know. Wall Street, I guess.”

Shocker. She should have known, based on the expensive suits in the room. “Why don’t we pretend your favorite movie is, I don’t know, Pulp Fiction. Every man loves a little Quentin Tarantino, right?”

“Great flick,” someone chimed in. A few suits agreed.

“All right,” the groom agreed with a shrug.

Roxy hid her immense relief. Using Louis’s shoulder for balance, she climbed up on the ottoman wedged up against the couch, confident that the long dress shirt hid almost her entire thighs from their view. With a deep breath through her nose, she thanked Marisa Tomei one final time for her assistance, then swapped her for Samuel L. Jackson. As the room full of marginally drunk bachelor party attendees watched in astonishment, she performed Jackson’s famous monologue from Pulp Fiction. The one in which he quotes Ezekiel 25:17 before explaining that his 9mm is the “shepherd protecting his righteous ass in the valley of darkness.” It was a wickedly awesome monologue. One that she’d used to land the SunChips ad two years ago. It had been unexpected. And a risk. Still, she’d felt true to herself performing it. As if deep down, she was meant to be a gangster instead of a struggling actress. It made her feel untouchable. A feeling she desperately needed right now.

About halfway through, the moment became hers. Not only did she have the rhythm of these words down by heart but she’d also forced these men to pay attention. Sure, they were probably just amused, maybe a little impressed that she’d memorized this profanity-heavy speech about violence, but for her own satisfaction, she would take their smiling nods as a sign of respect. Whatever it took to walk out of here with that part of herself she’d checked at the door. Toward the end, she made the mistake of looking at Louis. Shirtless and gorgeous, the pride radiating from him almost caused her to fumble the lines, but she pushed through, finishing with a flourish of her hand.

She took an exaggerated bow as they applauded, just before Louis plucked her off the ottoman and set her on her feet. He didn’t let her go, though, holding her hand in a tight grip as he led her toward the door. Louis picked her purse and trench coat up off the floor where she’d left them upon entering and handed both to her before pulling her into the hallway.

He cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up. “Hey. You’re f*cking amazing, you know that?”

“Yeah? Sometimes I’m not so sure,” she answered, shocking herself with total honesty. Crazy how people she knew well couldn’t get an honest reaction out of here, while this guy who’d put her through the ringer did it with so little effort. She didn’t want to ponder that realization for too long, so she did what came naturally. She avoided it. With steady fingers, she started to unbutton his shirt, which she still wore, intending to give it back to him so he didn’t have to face the evening shirtless, even if the female population of Manhattan would go mental over his approachable abs. God, he was sexy. And she really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Before she reached the second button, he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you back your shirt.”

He shook his head vigorously. “Keep it.”

She pointed at the trench coat resting on top of her purse. “I have my coat. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but in order for this transfer of clothing to take place, I’ll still have to see you in that cheerleader uniform. And I do not want to be turned on by it.”

The corner of her mouth tugged. “You don’t want to be. But you are?”

“To an appalling degree.”

Why am I giving this guy the time of day? Any other human being who’d seen her fall this far not once but three excruciating times would be banished to the furthest recesses of her mind, never to be resurrected unless she drank too much wine. When she’d accused him of being a liar in the bedroom, she’d meant it, but he’d slowly wedged his way back under her skin. She actually believed that he’d been just as blindsided by her presence at the party as she’d been by his. Why? Not a clue. She only knew he felt more like an ally than a foe. It didn’t hurt that he’d turned down a killer lap dance.

“How do you feel about kissing me right now, Louis?”

His answering groan didn’t end when their mouths met, it only got louder. Or maybe that was her own groan joining forces with his. Roxy couldn’t form a decent thought besides More and Closer as Louis slanted his lips over hers and obliterated what she knew about kissing. His lips pushed hers apart, and for a moment, they just inhaled against each other’s partially open mouths, savoring the moment. The pulse-pounding rush of sensation. When his tongue traced her lips, then dove in to tangle with hers, she swayed a little under the gust of heat. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, aligning their bodies. Which reminded her he wasn’t wearing a shirt. With no choice but to act on her desperate impulse, she dragged her fingernails lightly down his chest, giving an extra scratch over those abs, ending just above his belt buckle.