by Monroe, Max
She looks fucking beautiful.
But I’m finding Billie always looks beautiful.
“You okay?”
She nods but doesn’t make a move to do anything but stand there. After this much time with her, I’m starting to learn. When Billie’s got something on her mind, she either talks a mile a minute or doesn’t say anything at all. This is obviously a case of the latter.
“Do you need something?”
“Um…” She pauses, and her teeth dig into the skin of her full bottom lip. “Should I make a pallet on the floor?”
“Make a what on the floor?”
“A pallet?”
“Should I know what that is?”
“You know, a place to sleep. Pillows, blankets, that sort of thing,” she says and searches the incredulous expression on my face. “You’ve never heard that word before?”
“No.” I shake my head on a chuckle and set down the screenplay on the nightstand by the bed. “Must be a West Virginia thing.”
She smirks. “Or maybe it’s not an LA thing.”
“That too,” I agree with a mirroring smirk. “And don’t be ridiculous with sleeping on the floor. We’ve slept in the same damn sleeping bag two nights in a row, princess. Pretty sure we can handle a bed together.”
“True story,” she says on a giggle and doesn’t hesitate to climb under the covers beside me. “Ah, this is the best thing ever. After sleeping on the hard ground, nothing beats a bed.”
“Glad it suffices.” I reach out to turn off the bedside lamp, and the room goes dark.
Billie snuggles deeper into the blankets and lets out a few soft moans of contentment. “Good God, this feels so good.”
She moans again, and my dick threatens to karate chop right through the linens.
Fuck, she needs to stop making fucking noises like that.
Thankfully, the moans stop, but a quiet whisper lets me know she’s not quite ready to settle in for the night. “So, I take it you stole that screenplay out of my bag so you could read the five pages you promised me?”
Of course, she didn’t miss that.
“I did.”
“And what did you think?”
“Espionage isn’t your typical secret agent action movie.”
“No, it’s definitely not,” she says, a smile in her voice. “It’s better.”
She’s right. It is better. It’s not a blockbuster, hitting box office records because of crazy action scenes kind of film. It has the kind of emotional depth that gets Oscar nominations. Only twenty-four pages in, and I know this movie will be a big deal if it’s done right.
“Could you see yourself playing Finn Slate?”
Truthfully, it’d be a fucking honor. It’s a role I would’ve killed for when I was still in Hollywood.
It’s a role that makes you actually miss Hollywood.
“I’m not sure. I’d probably have to read more to find out,” I answer with a little white lie. I’ve read more than the five fucking pages I promised, and I can easily put myself in Finn Slate’s shoes.
“You should probably do that,” she adds on a whisper. “You know, read more, maybe read the whole thing, just to make sure you get the full picture.”
I chuckle softly. “I’ll consider it.”
“Good.” Billie yawns and turns onto her side, her face closer to mine, and another moan escapes her lips. “Oh, for the love of everything, this bed. It’s a dream.”
That moan. That fucking moan.
It makes my mind wander to all sorts of crazy, dirty things.
I want to hear what that moan sounds like when she’s doing other things.
Feeling other things.
“I almost forgot to tell you,” I whisper, and I can’t stop my fingers from reaching out to brush her hair out of her eyes. “This bed has rules.”
Her eyes pop open and meet mine. “Like what?”
“No kissing,” I whisper. “After last night, I’m sure that might be hard for you to follow.”
“Oh, whatever,” she retorts and rolls those pretty green eyes of hers. “That was just a friendly kiss. A thank-you kiss.”
“Oh,” I say, but I can’t seem to move my gaze away from her lips. “So, there’s a difference.”
Her tongue sneaks out and licks her bottom lip.
Fuck.
“Yes,” she whispers back. “A huge difference.”
“So, friendly kisses are okay?”
She nods. “Uh-huh.”
Man, I want to kiss her…
So, I do.
Without breaking eye contact, I move closer and press my lips to hers.
It’s a soft kiss. A chaste kiss.
Until a tiny moan escapes her lungs, and my heart picks up a rhythm so fast, I can’t stop the rest of me from taking off at a gallop through the open gate.
She slips her tongue into my mouth, and I take her lips greedily, kissing and licking and sucking at her mouth like a man who’s starved.
Billie responds with fervor, pulling at my shoulders and back with desperate hands, and before I know it, I’m hovering over top of her, my cock pressed against the apex of her thighs. She moves her little hips back and forth, sliding herself against me.
Fuck. I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t stop.
I want her. Right fucking now.
Billie
I wonder how far the definition of holding hands can be stretched. I just want to be prepared for when I tell someone about this one day—probably my grandchildren while on my deathbed, but still. Luca Weaver is so close to putting his penis inside me.
I’ve had great sex. I’ve even had wild sex—only once, in a library parking lot when I was eighteen, but yeah, it counts. But Lord help me, I’ve never, not once, felt this consumed by just the freaking buildup.
The sex hasn’t even started yet, and my skin feels feverish and every damn cell inside my body is tingling with desire.
This might be a really bad idea, but I don’t care.
I’m all fucking in.
Panting breaths escape my lungs, and it feels like my entire body is aching. Luca kisses me hard and deep, and I grind my hips, feeling his rigid arousal against me.
Boxers, T-shirts, sleep shorts, there’re too many clothes in between us right now.
“Off,” I mutter through a moan, and for the briefest of seconds, he goes frozen. It takes me a moment of clarity to realize what I’ve said—for my brain to catch up with my words. “Wait, not you, the clothes. Our stupid clothes.”
He smirks down at me. Then, happiness restored, I take it upon myself to pull his T-shirt over his head before doing the same to my own. Between hot kisses and grabby hands, his boxers and my sleep shorts and underwear all make their way to the floor.
His cock is heavy and warm against me, hovering at my entrance without pushing inside. It’s heaven. It’s hell. It’s everything I need and not even close to being enough at the same time.
“More,” I whisper through a moan. “Please, Luca. I need to feel you.”
He obliges immediately, slowly pushing himself inside me at the world’s most frustrating pace. My gaze moves down to our entwined naked bodies and becomes fixated on watching him enter me. I reach my hand out and touch the base of his cock with my fingertips, feeling how big and hard and perfect he is.
More. More. I will him to push deeper with my eyes.
Another inch.
And another.
Yes. Yes! Keep going!
And then…he stops.
“N-no,” I whine and try to push my hips up to urge him deeper, but Luca stops me with one gentle hand to my belly.
“Condom,” he whispers, and the frustration is evident in his raspy, sexy voice. “We don’t have a condom.”
“Shit,” I mutter more to myself than to him.
How could I not have thought about a condom?
Like, at all?
Never once have I just completely forgotten about protection. But, fuck. I don’t want to stop.
I can’t walk away from this moment without knowing what he feels like inside of me. Without seeing what shade of blue his eyes turn when he’s pressed to the hilt. Without knowing what I’ll feel when Luca is the one giving me pleasure. I just…can’t.
“I’m on birth control,” I whisper, and he groans as he struggles to hold himself steady as I pull his hips forward with my feet. “And I’ve never had any, you know, weird diseases, because well, I’ve never actually had sex without a condom. Is it just me, or is this a really strange time to be saying all of this right now?”
With his cock still half inside me, his eyes light up with amusement.
“What?”
“I don’t have sex without condoms either, so I’m clean too,” he says quietly through a smile. “God, you’re one of a kind, princess.”
“That’s really great, Luca,” I say, but now, I’m starting to get a little frustrated. I mean, he’s still inside me. And I would prefer to keep it that way, but now he’s talking about how fucking cute I am; at least, I think he’s trying to compliment me. “But it would be even better if we keep doing, you know—” I glance down at where we’re connected and wiggle my hips “—this.”
Luca’s eyes turn heated, and in a swift yet gentle movement, he presses his cock all the way in, filling me completely.
Oh, hell’s bells, that’s good.
No, it’s better than good. It’s perfect.
“I’m losing my fucking mind right now over how amazing you feel,” he whispers earnestly into my ear. “It’s so good, Billie. So fucking good.”
I moan.
“Goddamn,” he says hotly into my ear. “With your sexy little body beneath me and your pussy gripping me so tight, it’s nearly too fucking much.”
I clutch his shoulders with my fingers, and I can’t stop myself from digging my nails into his skin when he starts up a rhythm that urges my eyes to roll back inside my head.
“I know, without a doubt, this is my favorite part of the trip.”
“Ditto, princess.” Luca smirks, and then his mouth is on mine, sliding his tongue past my lips and kissing me with the kind of passion I thought only existed on the big screen.
He pushes himself deeper and deeper over and over again, and with each gliding stroke, I get a little closer to euphoria. Stars start to dance behind my eyes, and uncontrollable whimpers escape my lips. I’m so close.
“Yes,” he says. “God, yes.”
Or I think he says that. At this point, I don’t know what’s being said, I just know he feels so good that I’m torn between wanting to feel my climax and never wanting it to end.
Sure, this probably isn’t the best idea.
Sure, there could be repercussions.
But the pleasure of feeling him—feeling us together—is all my mind can handle.
“Fuck.” Luca groans. “I need to see you on top of me.”
Before I can comprehend what he means, he flips us over, and I’m on top, straddling his hips and staring down at him.
My long hair falls forward, and he reaches up to push it over my shoulders as a new rush of pleasure makes a buzz start up in the back of my head.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, and I could easily say the same. Firm muscles, strong jaw, painfully handsome face, and the kind of blue eyes that could hypnotize just about any man or woman into a trance.
Luca Weaver is a work of art.
When God made him, it wasn’t a hasty job. He took his time, perfected every line, every curve, every muscle. And right now, Luca’s giving me the same kind of attention to detail.
I’m high off him—off us, together, like this.
“Ride me,” he says, and his hands grip my hips. “Make yourself come on my cock.”
Fuck.
I wasn’t the best student in school, but this is an assignment I can handle. In fact, I think I’ll pass with flying colors.
I moan and let his hands guide my hips.
“Yes, that’s it,” he whispers, his eyes still locked on me. “Fuck, that’s it.”
Up and down, I move my hips and stroke his length inside me until I feel like I’m going to explode from the pleasure.
Every damn nerve ending inside my body stands to attention, striking at my pleasure until it lights my climax on fire like a match.
It’s too strong, too damn intense, and I can no longer hold myself up. I fall forward until our chests meet. My lips are near his ear, and moans and panting breaths and god knows what else falls past my tongue.
Luca isn’t far behind me.
He grips my hips tighter with his fingers and he presses himself deep, and a rough, raspy groan leaves his lungs as he finishes inside me. It’s guttural and intense, and I have no doubt I’ll be able to feel it rumbling through me for the rest of my life.
It takes a long moment for both of us to catch our breath, and a small niggle of fear uses that time to invade. I’m not ready for him to disengage—to roll over and say something to ruin the last fifteen minutes of heaven. When he wraps his big arms around me and holds me tight to his chest, I can’t stop myself from melting in relief.
He caresses my hair with his fingers, and I lie there, inside his embrace, trying to wrap my mind around what just happened.
This was not the plan…but it happened.
And the idea of taking it back now is almost painful.
Silence overwhelms the room as both of us avoid anything that could ruin the moment.
And for that, I’m thankful. There’s a lot of stuff I’m feeling right now, but I don’t have even an inkling of the urge to fight.
The only thing I want to do is lie here. With Luca.
Luca
As it turns out, one very specific part of me is not opposed to exploring something from Hollywood again. A beautiful, emerald-eyed goddess who’s somehow managed to insert herself into my life.
The asshole part of me wishes I could still say I don’t like her here.
But I’d be flat-out lying. I do like that she’s here, chatting my ear off and giving me sass.
And, it only took one fan-fucking-tastic night for me to understand that sex with Billie Harris is so good, it’s dangerous.
The sun serves as my alarm clock, and I blink my eyes open to find the gorgeous sight of her lying beside me. She’s still deep in sleep, her eyes are closed, and soft, relaxed breaths move her lungs up and down.
My gaze grazes over her face, taking in the way her cheeks always seem to have a hint of a blush, how her full lips are lax, and the way her long blond hair is scattered across her pillow in a beautiful mess.
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I’ve grown intrigued.
Hell, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve probably been fascinated since the instant she showed up at my cabin uninvited and talked her way on to this trip in the first place.
Whatever the reason for my initial and certainly out-of-character softness, she’s here, lying in bed with me after a night of the most intense sex I’ve had in my entire life.
Last night, I was inside her…bare.
In my old life, protecting against unprotected sex was about the only thing I did responsibly. Here in Alaska, the distance to my house and the overwhelming need to live anonymously have been protection enough.
But with her, I did it anyway.
Fucking hell, what is happening to me?
Billie Harris is growing on me in a way that has my brain thinking all sorts of crazy shit. Twisty, winding possibilities of making a change, going back to something I thought I’d left behind—putting myself in a situation where I might make all the same mistakes again.
Fucking hell.
Before my mind can turn into an amusement park of thoughts I’d rather not contemplate, I force my focus to the simple task of carefully sliding out of bed without waking her up.
Once my feet hit the floor and she doesn’t stir in her sleep, I slip on a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie, and I head downstairs to the ki
tchen.
Lou is already there, sitting at the table with a fresh cup of coffee and reading a book.
“Mornin’,” he says and nods his head in greeting.
“Morning,” I head toward the coffeepot, and Bailey meets me by the counter, his tail wagging back and forth. I pat his side a few times and grin down at him.
“Where’s Billie?” Lou asks, and I look up to meet his eyes.
“Still sleeping.” I pour myself a fresh cup of coffee and stir in some sugar and cream. “Figure I’d let her rest a little longer before we head back.”
A knowing smirk appears on his lips, and I tilt my head to the side.
“What’s that look for?”
That smirk of his grows. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” I retort and sit across from him at the table. “You’ve got a look. You know you’ve got a look, so you might as well spit it out.”
Lou chuckles and sets his book facedown on the table. “Did you read the screenplay?”
“You’re smirking about that damn screenplay?”
“Of course not.” He shakes his head. “I’m smirking because I think…actually, I know that you’re starting to really like this girl. If Shirley were still alive, she’d die all over again from plain excitement.”
I roll my eyes. “She definitely spent a lot of time gabbing about me settling down.”
Lou nods. “She just wanted you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
He raises a pointed brow. “You sure about that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be happy?” I challenge. “All that Hollywood money I made has earned me the ability to live life for myself. Make my own decisions. Choose what’s best for me. Enjoy the simple life that living out here provides. What’s not to be happy about?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it gets to be a pretty lonely life if you don’t have anyone to share it with.”
“I don’t think I’m the type of person who needs that, Lou.”
“And I think you’re underestimating what you need and what you deserve.”
I stare at him, unsure of what to say.
I’ve been living out here for eight years, doing my own thing, living my own fucking life.
I’m comfortable.