Come A Little Bit Closer (The Sullivans #7)(40)

But waking up in his bed, having breakfast, sharing the part of her day with him when she was the most vulnerable...that was most definitely not okay.

Somehow she needed to figure out how to get out of his bed and his house without making a big deal of the one night they’d shared together.

Only, as he softly kissed her eyebrows, then each cheekbone, the tip of her nose, and then her chin, the last thing she wanted to do was leave his bed. Desire rose again, fast and hot, and she wanted so badly to thread her hands through his soft hair and drag his mouth to one of the places she really needed it.

So many rules she’d already broken for this man...so many more she knew she might not be strong enough to keep from breaking as, instead of turning away from him, she started to turn deeper into his arms, her leg moving to slide against his as she arched into his touch, silently begging him for more.

Until the harsh sound of a cell phone yanked her out of the sensual fog.

Her eyes flew open, her hands going flat on his chest. “Your phone—”

“—can keep ringing.”

But she was too well trained by her sister’s schedule to lose hold of an important calendar item, even as deep in the sensual fog as she’d been. Shock hit her that she’d come this close to forgetting. Clearly, making love with Smith had muddled her brain in a serious way.

“You and Tatiana have a phone interview with Entertainment magazine this morning.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Valentina’s phone began to buzz with the ring tone that meant her sister was calling. Tatiana had spent the night at an event for up-and-coming young actresses in Los Angeles, so she not only wouldn’t know Smith had spent the night in bed with Valentina, she definitely wouldn’t guess that he was with her right now. Still, it made sense for her to try Valentina to see if she could reach Smith when he hadn’t called in for the interview.

Smith might be able to ignore his phone, but she couldn’t. Especially not when it was her sister calling. She scooted out from beneath him and tried not to feel shy about her nakedness as she hurried over to her purse across the room.

“Hey, T.” Please, Valentina silently prayed, don’t ask me any questions that I’ll have to lie to answer.

She all but dove under the covers with her phone to her ear, as Smith watched her with still-hungry eyes.

“I’ve got Beth from Entertainment magazine on hold,” her sister told her. “She keeps asking me when Smith is going to call in. Did he say anything about canceling to you last night when you were at Alcatraz?”

“No, he didn’t say anything about not being able to do the interview. Maybe he’s just running a bit late. I’m sure he would never want to put you in an awkward position with an upset journalist because he didn’t show.”

Only, instead of leaning over to pick up his phone, Smith put an arm around her waist and dragged her up against his naked body—his very hard, very aroused naked body—surprising her even further with a soft kiss to her mouth.

A half-gasp, half-growl left her lips and her sister asked, “Val? Is everything okay?”

“I’ll see if I can reach him,” Valentina promised her sister, before, for the very first time ever, she hung up on her.

Glad for the rush of frustration that was quickly replacing desire, she was about to lay into Smith when he finally picked up his phone from the side table and started dialing.

“Beth, sorry to call in so late.”

But instead of letting Valentina go so that he could focus on the interview, he pulled her in even closer to him, his arms holding her firmly around the waist, one of his legs a heavy weight over both of hers.

“How’s your son doing? Still tearing up the soccer field?”

Close enough to hear the woman’s cheerful answers, Valentina tried not to make a sound. God forbid either the journalist or her sister could tell that Smith was in bed with a woman.

With her.

Of course he didn’t make it easy for her to remain silent as his hand stroked slowly over her ribs, down to her waist, and then the curve of her hips. She trembled with the effort to keep from voicing her pleasure at his touch. Especially after a night when she’d been able to let herself go completely.

When she simply hadn’t had any choice but to let go.

She’d thought it was just for that one, very special night when all rules—all worries—were off. Only, this time, the sweetness of his touch wasn’t enough to combat the brutal reminder of who he was.

Smith Sullivan, movie star.

How could she have let herself forget?

Not that going back to assess the hows and whys mattered much at this point. The point was that she had forgotten. And, more important, she needed to never, ever forget again.

At least on set, she was constantly viewing him in his producer, director, or actor role. Whereas with his family, at Alcatraz, on his boat—and most definitely when she was in his bed—Smith was simply a wonderful man.

Not to mention the most sensual, most infuriatingly persistent man she’d ever known.

Of course, despite all of the stern warnings and reminders she’d just given herself, during the long minutes that felt like hours as he chatted with her sister and the journalist, Valentina’s body continued to heat up by degrees. Smith never came close to touching her br**sts, or between her legs, but it was almost worse that he didn’t because everywhere he didn’t touch throbbed, swelled with need, even as she prayed for his interview to end.