Unforgettable: Book Two (A Hollywood Love Story #2)(19)






We’re in bed. My bed.

The three of us. Me, Zoey, and The Gooch.

Each of us in some form of pajamas. Each of us on our backs. I have to admit, it’s a pretty comical sight. Especially Gucci between us, clad in his pink Hello Kitty PJs, with all four paws in the air.

There’s only one problem. I can’t sleep on my back.

“Zoey, roll over.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Fine.” She hurls the word at me, and as she rolls over, so do I. Before getting squished in the middle, Gucci scuttles and curls up on Zoey’s pillow. I draw Zoey in close to me until I’m spooning her. Every luscious curve of her body hugs me in all the right places. She feels warm and smells delicious. A heady blend of lavender and honey. One of my arms wraps around her supple breasts while her firm ample ass grazes the crown of my cock. I can’t help it. My cock blissfully swells and brushes against her backside.

“Mmmm,” I moan.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” More than okay. I don’t think I’ve ever snuggled with a girl in bed. This is not something Katrina and I do. We haven’t even spent a night together since my release from the hospital and I’ve had no desire. Katrina’s body is taut, all sharp bones and angles, while Zoey’s is soft, curvy, and inviting. You’d think I’d like to bury my hard cock inside her, but right now, cuddling trumps f*cking. Cocooning her with my body, I feel a oneness with her. Something I’ve never felt with Katrina. Or perhaps any human being. Zoey’s made me feel a lot of things I’ve never felt before with anyone. And it’s the little everyday things. Be it watching TV, sharing a sandwich, or taking a walk. I’m the happiest I’ve been since my accident. Maybe the happiest I’ve ever been. She’s made me realize the feelings that are in your heart are there forever. Even when the memory forgets. I kiss her scalp lightly.

Zoey’s soft raspy voice sounds in the darkness. “Sweet dreams, Brandon.”

“Same to you.” I shut my eyes and hope I’m in them. Sleep overtakes me before dark thoughts of Donatelli vanquish the delicious sensation I feel.





Zoey


The following Thursday rolls around quickly. Both Brandon and I are up at the crack of dawn. He’s got an eight o’clock flight to catch from Van Nuys Airport. The Conquest Broadcasting corporate jet is flying him to New York. It’ll land at four p.m. at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey where he’ll be met by a helicopter that will take him into Manhattan. Once the helicopter lands, a limo will take him directly to the Ed Sullivan Theater where David Letterman tapes his show. Brandon and Katrina are his first guests.

“I’m all ready,” he says meeting me in his bedroom where I’ve been packing his clothes.

I drink him in. He looks devastating. Sexy as sin. All fresh and showered, he’s wearing perfectly ripped jeans and his vintage leather bomber jacket along with a cashmere scarf that matches the color of his eyes. The faded jeans and jacket are sexy enough, but there’s something about the way his luxurious scarf is looped around his neck that makes him even more swoon-worthy. He looks like he’s just stepped out of GQ. My heart pounds madly.

With a heavy sigh, I zip up his bag. Gucci, dressed in a spanking new blue sweater with a new red collar and leash, is on the bed curled up beside it. The truth is I don’t want either of them to leave, especially Brandon. Aside from the Donatelli incident, the last week and a half has been the best one of my life.

While I was well enough to move back into my guesthouse by the end of last week, Brandon demanded I stay with him. That night I spent with him in his bed, though fully clothed, was amazing. He held me in his strong arms and blanketed me with his manliness, his warm breath dusting the nape of my neck and his hardness pressed against me. I fell asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the lull of his soft snoring. Gucci slept like a baby and so did I. Brandon made me feel safe and protected. Terrifying dreams of Frank Donatelli didn’t stand a chance.


Gucci’s wet kisses all over our faces woke us up early the next morning. And we giggled. Then, a phone call from Katrina checking up on her “baby boy” brought me back to reality. While he seemed aloof with her, I told Brandon I couldn’t sleep with him again and that Gucci biting off his balls was no excuse. The real excuse: I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my pajama bottoms on.

I cannot deny my intense physical attraction to my boss Brandon Taylor, People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” Just one look at him sends my body into a tailspin. And the fact that I’ve gotten to know him this week has complicated things. It’s brought me closer to him in ways I never imagined. I genuinely like him. He’s smart, funny, and caring. And we seem to have so much in common even beyond Donatelli. My heart constantly thuds at the sight of him while my sex pulses with hot desire. Plain and simple, Pops is right. I’m head over heels in love with him. I’m just not sure if the feeling is mutual. He could have easily had me the other night, but except for holding me, he was totally hands off. Sleeping with him again, even platonically, will only taunt me.

Brandon protested my refusal to sleep in his bed, but I quickly played the boyfriend card. My one and only defense mechanism. It worked again like a charm, silencing him with a grim expression that bordered on a frown. And then I reminded him he’s engaged to Katrina. The mere mention of her name on my tongue was like a taste of atomic sour candy. It made my mouth pucker and I wanted to barf.

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