Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(79)

I trailed behind him as he raced to the bathroom.

Crouching to his knees, Bradley began to retch into the toilet. The stench sent my own wave of nausea to my chest.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” I rubbed his back.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

Taken aback, I abruptly withdrew my hand and stepped back. I was just trying to help. Put his needs before mine. Isn’t that what lovers did? Be there for one another. Like my parents did time and time again.


Another loud belch sounded. He was puking his guts out.

“What can I do to help?” Desperation filled my voice.

“Nothing,” he choked. “This is all your fault.” Belch.

“My fault?”

“If we hadn’t gone to that goddamn art gallery opening, none of this would have happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“We could have stayed in and ordered from Mr. Vegan.”

I was wordless. We’d had takeout food from Vegan Delight countless times before, and neither of us had ever gotten food poisoning. This was just a fluke thing. And maybe it wasn’t food poisoning. Instead, a stomach virus. It was going around. Several co-workers at my office had, in fact, come down with it.

Another loud heave hurled me back to the moment. My fiancé, Bradley Wick, was puking his guts out, and there was nothing I could do. Because he didn’t want my help or my love. I felt helpless, hapless, and hurt.

Finally, after five long, wretched minutes, Bradley staggered to his feet. His thinning hair was matted to his head, and his chalky face was spattered with sweat. He flushed the toilet, and then stumbled over to the sink where he rinsed his mouth with one of the dozen mouthwash products he had neatly lined up along the tiled counter. And then he vigorously brushed his teeth. After brushing, he splattered some cold water onto his face with his good hand.

“You need to sleep on the couch tonight.” His voice was hoarse.

“Okay.” As hurt as I felt, I was relieved.

We exited the bathroom and parted ways.

“Wake me up, if you need me.”

Without responding, Bradley shuffled down the hallway to the bedroom we’d shared every Saturday for the past few years. But not tonight.

In the darkness, I found my way back to the couch and turned off the TV. The peaceful quiet and stillness of the night enveloped me. I was still in my little black dress. Starting at my shoulders, I traced my fingers over the silhouette. I moved them slowly down to the rise of my breasts, where they lingered making wide circles. My nipples hardened and heat soared in my core. My hands continued to slide down my torso until they splayed on my bare thighs. They slid up and down my smooth limbs, and I felt myself succumbing to my arousal. My breathing shallow, I lowered the side zipper of my strapless dress and let if fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, I was naked except for a black lace thong that Libby had given to me for my last birthday.

Spreading my legs apart, I dipped my right hand under the waistband. My fingers latched on to my wet folds, caressing the hills and valleys. And then they found their way to my aching clit. My breathing grew heavy, my body feverishly hot. My left hand joined my right, and I shoved two fingers into my hole. Thrusting them up and down the slick, heated walls. Fast and hard as I rubbed my clit in tandem.

My eyes squeezed shut, I arched my head and bit down on my lips to suppress moans that might awaken Bradley. I was on the verge of an orgasm.

A heart-stopping second later, I came with powerful waves of pleasure. The image of Blake Burns’s beautiful face filled my mind and the image of his beautiful cock filled my core.

Still trembling, I collapsed onto the couch and pulled the chenille blanket over my head. Sweet dreams knocked at my doorway to pleasure. With Blake Burns’s magnificence embedded deep inside me, I fell blissfully asleep.

When I awoke Sunday morning, I was blissfully still wet. And didn’t give a damn when I heard Bradley sneak out the back door.





Chapter 16

Blake


Monday mornings always began with a staff meeting at nine a.m. I was taken aback to already find Jennifer in the conference room at eight forty-five. With her lustrous hair loose and minus her glasses, she looked as beautiful as she had on Saturday night.

Tensing, I settled into my seat at the head of the large conference room table and bid her good morning. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

“Great.” She beamed.

Fuck. She had sex with Dickwick.

“How ’bout yours?”

“Great,” I mimicked. Actually, it f*cking sucked. Kat, pissed off by Jennifer, had thrown an embarrassing tantrum at the gallery and then followed me home, demanding retribution sex. None of my hook-ups got to spend the night with me. A rule was a rule. And she was the last person I wanted to spend any time with. Ever. I didn’t even know she’d be at the gallery opening. The woman was insane. A total psycho bitch for as long as I’d known her. I almost had to call the police to get her out of my building. Then yesterday, I’d had a touch of that flu that was going around the office and stayed in bed all day. For the first time since my balls had dropped, my cock didn’t come out to play all weekend.


“Did you stay for a long time at the gallery?” She held her mesmerizing green eyes in mine. Her gaze was inquisitive.

“Not really.” I felt my cock jump. Why did she do this to me? I hadn’t stopped thinking about her all weekend. Even lying in bed yesterday fighting off a tinge of nausea, I thought about her and got a boner.