Come A Little Bit Closer (The Sullivans #7)(53)

To be needed.

They were all the things her mother and father shared...and that had torn her mother apart after her father died.

But just as she couldn’t possibly turn away from his need, there was no way she could deny her own. “I need you, too.”

Her admission had him taking her mouth again on a growl of possession as he stepped between her legs. He drew back just enough to say, “Lift your hips,” then pulled off her panties. A second later his boxers were gone and he’d found a condom to roll on over his thick length.

The very last thing they should be doing was having sex on Smith’s desk while his sister, and hers, and the crew were waiting on set for him to film an important scene. And yet, as he took her ankles and wrapped her legs around his hips, as she twined her arms around his neck and held on tight, as he thrust into her on a desperate groan, there was nothing in the world she wanted—or needed—more.

They may have had only ten minutes, but what a glorious sixth of an hour it was as Smith took her over, body and soul, his hips moving in time with hers, his mouth pressing sucking, biting kisses over the upper swells of her br**sts.

It didn’t matter how many times they made love, she could never get enough of Smith’s warmth, his passion, the way he so fully embraced not just life, but her, too—sharp edges, soft curves, and everything in between as he sent her flying up over another peak of pleasure, before following her over a second later with one more hard thrust that had the desk skidding with a loud screech over the floor.

She was still trying to catch her breath while asking herself exactly how everything had spiraled off so fast from his sister’s innocent question—to Smith beckoning her into his lair, then to being thoroughly, and wonderfully, ravished in his office—when he pressed one more kiss to her lips and stepped away to put his clothes back on.

How, she wondered, unable to do anything but stare at his beautiful face and body with helpless longing, was he able to make passionate love to her one second and get back in character again just seconds after? It was one of the reasons she’d never wanted to be with an actor. She couldn’t stand the idea of just being another scene he was playing to the best of his ability.

Only, when he looked into her eyes, she realized with stunning clarity that although he was again wearing his character’s clothes, Smith wasn’t the least bit in character. Because instead of the billionaire from the film staring at her, instead of Smith Sullivan the movie star, or even Lori’s brother, the man who stood before her was one hundred percent her lover.

Hers.

The realization of just how completely he’d given himself over to her left her staggered even as he said, “Since I know my sister’s going to want her answer before she’s through with you, you can let her know that your guy is definitely still putting in his best effort for your heart.”

With yet one more possessive kiss, he left her half-naked on the edge of his completely askew desk, still shaking not only with lust, but also with sweet emotion she couldn’t keep at bay no matter how hard she tried.

Because, in the end, what amazed her most of all—so much more than the hot, head-spinning sex they’d just had—was that she’d given Smith every reason to give up on her.

But he hadn’t.

Valentina’s heart was still racing, her legs still trembling as she put her clothes back on and did what she could to fix her makeup. Without a brush and blow dryer at hand, her hair wasn’t nearly as neat as it had been before, which meant that as she returned to the set just as filming was about to commence, she could have sworn that Lori looked at her with a very assessing expression on her face.

Valentina worked to focus every ounce of her concentration on the scene starting to play out in front of her. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before she was completely lost in the story.

Jo sat feeding her baby daughter Leah in a luxurious nursery. The walls were bright yellow, the pictures on the walls sweet without being cloying. Six months ago she would have been furious with a man for taking control of her life like this...but pride, she’d quickly learned, had very little place in a mother’s life.

Graham had given her and Leah a gift she couldn’t possibly have given herself. He’d moved them out of her crappy apartment in a bad part of the city and into a beautiful one across from a park where happy children played every morning and afternoon. If Jo had to work the rest of her life to pay him back for it, she would do so. Happily. And without resentment.

Well, she thought as she heard the doorbell ring and adjusted her top, without too much resentment at the way Graham seemed to always be there for her, anticipating her needs almost before she herself could.

Every night, he brought her the most delicious, nutritious dinner any new mother had ever eaten, and she was too tired—and too grateful that she didn’t have to use up what was left of her energy—to turn him or the yummy food away. She was also too polite to turn him away after he was kind enough to give so much of his busy schedule to her and the baby.

And in truth, it wasn’t the apartment or the food that she resented.

No. It was something far more insidious, far more potentially dangerous that had her lying in bed at night tossing and turning when she should have been trying to squeeze in sleep while her daughter finally dozed.

It would have been easier, and so much safer, to hate him. Even to fear him. But everything had changed with the birth of her daughter. And she could no longer deny that in the strange in-between of trying to push him out of her life when he would come to the coffee shop every day, up through these nightly meals together in her cozy apartment, the two of them had become friends.