He propped one of her long legs over his shoulder then lowered his mouth until he was almost touching her. “Is this what you want?” He swiped her strip with one slow brush of his tongue.
“Yes! Please!”
His eyes teased her as he lifted her other leg to drape over his other shoulder. “Should I give you more?”
“Yes, yes! Please, more!”
He adored her pleading, wanted to hear her beg for his cock. But first, he’d ease her longing. Show her he could be sweet when he wanted to. He licked her again then zeroed in on her clit, which was swollen with want. Swirling his tongue around her bud, he alternated with light and rough pressure until she was trembling beneath him. Then he went in for the kill. He plunged two fingers deep into her wet hole as he sucked her clit into his mouth with the same intensity he’d applied to her breasts.
“Fuck, yes!” Her breathing was ragged. She was close.
He couldn’t wait to see her orgasm. He knew it would drive him insane. He’d have to have her after that, have to bury his dick into the warmth of her body.
She thrust her hips upward and he plunged his fingers in again, this time crooking them to hit against the sensitive sides of her walls. He paired this latest assault with a nip of her clit.
With a violent cry, her thighs went rigid. Hot fluid spilled onto Seth’s hand as Heather rocked her hips against his mouth.
“That’s it, princess,” he said, consuming the sight of her coming apart. It was beautiful. So goddamn beautiful it made his balls ache.
He continued to lick at her tender area until her body went lax and her breathing evened out. Gently, he lowered one leg off his shoulder, then kissed along the underside of her thigh to the back of her knee before setting it on the bed. Then he repeated his kisses on her other leg before kissing up her body toward her face where he planned to kiss her fiercely, share her taste with her, stir her up again so that next time he could come with her.
And next time wouldn’t be so gentle, but it would be oh so nice.
Except at her lips he discovered her deep breathing wasn’t a sign of her post-orgasmic state of relaxation.
It was a sign she’d passed out cold.
He tapped softly at her cheek with the back of his finger. “Heather?” But she didn’t respond. She was sincerely out. Already a gentle snore accompanied her inhales.
Dammit.
He’d known she was drunk, but had let her convince him that she was up for sex. He was an idiot. A fucking horny as hell idiot. Add intoxicated to that list. There was no way he would have gone so far if he’d been sober.
At least, he hoped he wouldn’t.
Honestly, it was a miracle from the gods that she’d passed out. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself, and that would make him an even bigger asshole than he already was. Besides, she would easily explain their fucking as an error in judgment made while intoxicated. When he took her for real—which he would eventually; he had no doubt of that after he’d had a taste of her—he wanted her to have full control of her actions. There was no way he’d let her dismiss their time together as a drunken mistake.
As for now, he could only blame himself for his painful erection. For half a second he considered pulling out his dick and whacking off while he could still drink in the view of her lovely naked body. Thankfully a moment of clarity hit him and he realized he was a creep for even thinking it. He didn’t need another reason to be disgusted with himself.
Instead, he swept one more gaze down her splendid form, putting it to memory so he could take care of himself later, alone. He had a feeling this memory might take him days of beating off before he even scratched the surface of his lust.
He rolled off the bed and let out a frustrated sigh, her scent still on his breath causing him to let out another. Then, in attempt to be a gentleman, he tugged the covers out from underneath her and pulled them up over her naked body. Wrapped in warmth, she curled up on her side, a content smile pasted on her sleeping face.
At least she’d been satiated. Maybe it would earn him points with her in the future. Though, now that he thought about it, their paths weren’t likely to cross again. That wasn’t something Seth could live with.
He looked down at her, scrutinizing. Sure, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But his attraction to her was more than that. And seeing her like this, asleep and peaceful, he remembered what it was—her hidden layer of vulnerability that he yearned to expose, itched to impose on. If she opened up to him like he thought she could, he would wrap himself around her fragile side and make her forget all those things he suspected she’d buried deep inside.
At least, he’d like to give it a try.
He rearranged his stiff bulge in his jeans in an unsuccessful attempt to ease his discomfort, and opened the drawer of the nightstand in search of hotel stationary and a pen. When he found what he needed, he scrawled a quick message to Heather and left it next to her phone. He’d give her a chance to take the next step.
If she didn’t, he’d take the next step himself.
A repeated buzzing drew Heather out of a deep sleep. Not yet ready to open her eyes, she became aware of two things—she had no clothes on and her head was pounding.
Oh, and there was a buzzing. Somewhere nearby. A familiar buzzing.
Her phone.
Still not opening her eyes, she reached her hand out to the nightstand and felt around for the cell she suspected was there. When she found it, she opened one eye just long enough to read the name of the caller. Lexie. Why was Lexie calling her so early? Though, it might not even be early. Heather had yet to determine what time it was, but it felt early.
She pushed the talk button. “What?”
“Heather?”
“I said what?” Goddammit, her head hurt. She vaguely remembered drinking a bit too much. And eating practically nothing. That explained the gurgling in her stomach.
Relief filled Lexie’s voice. “Thank God I got hold of you. I was worried. The spa called and said you didn’t make it to your appointment and you didn’t answer my calls.”
“Oh, fuck.” Heather sat up and opened her eyes, noting the vicious sway of the room as she did. “Hold on a sec.” She pressed the phone to her chest while she gathered her thoughts, remembered where she was. Oh yeah, the hotel. She was supposed to spend the day in the spa.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 11:42. Her appointment had been at eleven. Raising the phone back to her face, she said, “I didn’t ask for a wakeup call or anything. Can I get in later?”
“Yeah, you prepaid for all day so whenever you want to show up is fine.”
“Awesome.” Because as soon as she got over her raging headache, a full body massage would be exquisite. Heather lowered the phone again and grabbed for one of two bottles of water on the nightstand, noticing a packet of pain relievers there as well. She tore into them, hoping they’d work quickly.
When she put the phone back to her ear, she realized Lexie had been talking. “…glad you got to sleep in, at least. You needed it.”
“Yeah, I did need it.” She couldn’t even recall what time it was when she’d made it back to her room. Or how.
Then in a series of embarrassing flashes she remembered—Seth, her throwing herself at him, her naked. And one glorious orgasm. “Oh…fuck…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m hung over.” She shifted and realized her upper thighs were sticky. “And I think I had sex last night.”
“Oh my God! With the carpenter?” Lexie’s excitement was evident.
It aggravated Heather’s head. She lowered the volume on her phone several notches before answering. “Um, yeah.”
“Well? How was it?”
Truth was, she had no idea. She remembered getting naked, remembered Seth doing amazing things to her body. She looked down at her breasts and noticed they were dotted with hickeys. Yeah, she remembered that. She’d practically released from that alone.<
br />
But past that, she recalled little. “I don’t know. I think I passed out.”
“That’s all sorts of wrong.”
It was all sorts of wrong. She’d had sex with an amazingly attractive man and she couldn’t remember any of it. God, how was it that Seth, who reminded her too much of her past as it was, could—in an instant—turn her into the slutty girl her father always thought she’d be?
That was why she had known she shouldn’t get involved with him. Yet here she’d gone and ignored her own advice.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Lexie’s voice pulled her back from her self-reprimanding. “You used a condom at least, right? Because you missed a couple days on your birth control, remember.”
A condom? “Fuck! I didn’t even think about that.” Had they? She closed her eyes and fought against her pain to try to remember details. “I’m sure we did.” They had to have. Right? “Hold on.” She got up and began searching the room, looking in the empty trash cans and on every surface she could find. She even looked under the bed and through the bed clothes. Nothing.
“Shit, Lexie, I don’t see a condom wrapper anywhere.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I’ve looked everywhere. There’s nothing!”
“Don’t panic.” Lexie’s calm voice was a stark contrast to Heather’s racing heart. “Morning after pill. I’ll arrange to get one for you.”
“No! I can’t.”
“Why?”
Heather rubbed a hand across her aching forehead and sat heavily back on the bed. “It’s like abortion. I’m Catholic.”
“You are not.” Lexie laughed. “You haven’t stepped foot in a church since I’ve known you. And Catholics are against birth control in general.”
“But birth control is not the same as killing a baby that might already be in the process of…” She let her voice drop off with a sigh. How could she possibly explain this? When she’d left the trailers, left who she was, she developed a short list of values. Things she’d never back down on, no matter what. Like, she wouldn’t do full nudity onscreen. She’d never sleep with a guy to get a role. And no abortions or morning after pills. She didn’t want to spend any part of her life in regret, and she had a feeling that erasing a would-be person could lead to some serious regret.
But she didn’t expect anyone else to understand. She sighed again. “I know, it sounds ridiculous, Lexie, but I just can’t do it. I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t have to. I get it.”
Had she mentioned in the past twenty-four hours how much she loved her assistant? She should send Lexie to the spa in her place. Or just buy her a day of her own.
Meanwhile, Heather had to face the possibility that she might be pregnant. Except…had she and Seth actually had sex? God, she wished she could remember. “Maybe I won’t even need it. I don’t even know for sure if we had sex.”
“You don’t know?”
“I passed out.” She cringed at how slutty her words made her sound. Knowing Lexie wouldn’t judge her, she forced herself to go on. “But I was naked and coming on to him…he couldn’t have resisted, could he?”
“Do you feel sore?”
Heather did a few Kegels, feeling for any sort of tightness. “Not at all. But I took Advil when you called.”
“Maybe he was small.”
No way. She’d felt his erection through his pants. More than once. “I don’t think that’s it. God, I wish I could remember! The last thing I can recall is an incredible orgasm.” Incredible was defining it lightly.
But then he’d left. “And he wasn’t here when I woke up.”
“Asshole.”
“I told you.” Heather glanced down at the folded hotel stationary she’d seen next to the Advil. Now she picked it up. “Just a sec, Lex. He left a note.”
The ball’s in your court, princess. If you want to see where this could go, give me a call.
She read it several times before she spoke. “He left his phone number. I could call him.”
“But you won’t.”
Heather thought about it. Part of her really wanted to call him, wanted to see him again, wanted to see where things could go between them.
But another part of her, the bigger part of her, was scared. Scared of what Seth reminded her of. Scared of what Seth brought out in her.
“I won’t call him. He shouldn’t have bailed. And he shouldn’t have fucked me without a condom!” If they’d fucked at all, which Heather was beginning to doubt more and more. Doubting made her angry. Sure, he’d left a note. And water. And Advil. And maybe hadn’t taken complete advantage of her while she was naked and vulnerable. Though she’d been in the wrong state of mind to consent, he had given her a mind-blowing orgasm. Now that she thought about it, it seemed she’d seen him drinking an awful lot too. And had she thrown herself at him, or was that just a bad dream? Memories of lying naked and in wait for him tugged at the edges of her consciousness. Had she really done that?
Perhaps Seth Rafferty wasn’t the asshole she kept making him out to be.
But if he wasn’t an asshole, then she’d have to face the fact that she really was a bitch.
And that wasn’t happening. Not today anyway. “I’m done with Seth,” she told Lexie, mostly to convince herself. “And I’ll be glad to never see him again.”
“Sounds like a plan. But keep his number in case you need to contact him for a paternity test.”
“Please don’t even go there,” Heather groaned. “But I’ll keep it.”
After Heather ended her phone call with her assistant, she grabbed a pair of sweats and some underwear from her luggage with plans to shower before heading to the spa. But first, she folded Seth’s note into a small square and stuffed it into an empty pocket of her suitcase.
Maybe, if she buried it deep enough, she could forget about the hot carpenter and the myriad of confusing feelings he imposed upon her.
Except she knew that wasn’t likely. Especially if she already had a permanent Seth reminder growing in her belly.
Funny how that thought didn’t freak her out as much as it should have.
Chapter Seven
Seth stared at his Google calendar and cringed. It was completely blank. Blank for the next three months. The movie he had been booked to do had suddenly been postponed a year. Such postponements weren’t uncommon in Hollywood, but often it was a sign of other problems with the film. The delay gave him an out in his contract, if he wanted it. He’d have to look more into the situation before he made a decision.
Meanwhile, his calendar was empty. First thing on his day’s agenda was to find a project to work on. Not that he needed the money, but he didn’t enjoy being idle. He’d been idle the two days since the 24-Hour Plays ended and was already about to go insane. All he could think about was Heather Wainwright.
Figuring out what to do about Heather was the second thing on the day’s agenda. He’d known she was a big barrel of badness from the beginning, and he wasn’t changing his mind about that theory. But since he’d had a taste of her, both in the literal and figurative sense, he had to have more, barrel of badness or not. She was like a good malt beer—he shouldn’t have as much as he wanted, but he could rarely stop after only one glass. Everything about her turned him on: her eyes, her breasts, her silky skin, her pouty lips. Just thinking about her gave him a giant hard-on. A giant hard-on that had been impossible to relieve no matter how guilty he felt for taking advantage of her drunken state or how many times he stroked himself.
What sort of magic spell did this woman weave?
Even her stuck-up attitude, which had initially been a turn-off, had become one of the things that made him hornier than hell. The sass that came out of her lovely mouth… He never knew what to expect next, half of her words making his hand itch with the need to spank, the other half making his cock twitch with the need to bury inside her. A fair amount of what she said made him want to do both.
Yes, he’d have to f
ind a way to see her again. And soon.
After he worked out how to see her again, he’d have a big decision to make. Tell her the truth about his career or continue to let her think he worked in Hollywood as a carpenter?
He glanced over at Erica’s sketch of his favorite spot in the San Gabriel Mountains that he had pinned on a bulletin board above his desk, the only remnant of his time with her. He should’ve thrown it out ages ago, seeing how it always brought up a painful ache when he looked at it. But, besides the fact it was a damn good piece of art, it served as a reminder of a dream he hadn’t yet fulfilled. One day he intended to build a cabin on that land. It was supposed to have happened with Erica. Now…
Now the plan had to wait. He couldn’t even think about it. Not while the sketch still held so many memories of his past, promises of a future that didn’t come to fruition.
He closed his eyes and let thoughts of her settle on him. Erica. She’d been an artist—a painter mostly—that he’d hired for a film he’d designed. It wasn’t love at first sight, but their feelings developed pretty quickly. He’d thought at first that her interest in him might be solely based on the fact that he was her boss—that he could get her places. Then they grew closer, eventually moving in together. Finally, he proposed.
He hadn’t set out to hide his past from her—it just never came up. How did you tell a woman that your father was in jail? That you had your own juvie record? He didn’t like to talk about it back then, so he didn’t share it with her. After they were engaged, and they began working on guest lists for the wedding and she wanted to know whether to include his parents, well, he had to tell her.
And she’d left. Because, as she had said, “Children follow in their father’s footsteps. How could I possibly have children with you?”
Funny, he thought he’d turned out pretty damn fine.
But he wasn’t going to hide his past from a woman again. It was who he was, what made him. Maybe he was going too far in hiding his present from Heather, but he didn’t trust as easily as he used to. His trust had to be earned.
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