by Murphy,Misti
She half-shrugs, twisting one of those sexy little ringlets around her finger. “Why are you?”
I’m stunned at the question. I’d expected that she’d assume it was part of my makeup, the same way she’s decided I’m an entitled prick. “Honestly?”
The limo comes to a standstill outside the gates while the driver speaks to the security guard stationed out front. Only a couple more blocks and we’ll be done with travelling. At least for a couple days.
“Is this it?” She says, her question forgotten as she glances out every available bit of window. “This is where you live?”
“It’s where I stay.” The limo moves at a meandering pace, and I watch her take in the expansive houses, and sprawling gardens.
“I’ve never seen grass this green.” Wide-eyed, she bites her lip. “I don’t actually think we have this type of green in Australia. Even our green seems to be various shades of brown.”
I lean over her shoulder, trying to see what she sees. She stiffens slightly, her elbow resting against my abs but not jabbing me to move back. Funny thing is I don’t recognize the street we’re on. It gives me pause for a moment, until we turn the corner and I see our destination. It’s like I’ve never noticed my surroundings before, or I’m seeing them in a different light. Why the hell am I looking at grass?
She turns her head, her cheek close to my mouth. It would be so easy to clasp her face and take her mouth.
“That question. The reason I’m an asshole.”
She inhales. A sweet sound that’s followed by her wetting her lips. One of us moves an inch closer. Probably me.
“Have you ever wanted something so bad you can practically taste it?”
Her throat tenses as she swallows, her face turning to mine reflexively. Her torso twisted, so her tits are lined up with my chest. “Maybe.”
I bet they’d be the perfect handfuls if I reached out and cupped them.
“Something you want so much that you can barely breathe with the need to have it?”
“Yes,” she whispers. She’s straining to hold back, but her body is arching. Her shoulders are pulled back, lifting her tits closer to me.
I pull one of her silky curls between my fingers. Fuck, I want to know what it would feel like to have her hair trailing over my body. “The craving for it so much, you would do anything to make it happen.”
She squirms a little, a quick tensing and relaxing of her thighs. Her eyes widen and she gasps as she realizes I know she’s aroused. “Oh.”
I hold back a groan, hold back the need to suck on her bottom lip. “I live my life like that, beautiful. Always have. I’ll do just about anything to get what I want.” We come to a halt in the driveway of my house, and I know this is not going to end with her mouth on mine. Not this time at any rate. “But sometimes I forget that not everything I want is meant to come to fruition. I’ve achieved so much through hard work and determination that sometimes I forget not everything can be had that way.”
The limo door opens, and I drag myself away from her. Climbing out of the car, I adjust my crotch. She’s not immune, but she’s stubborn. Almost as stubborn as I am. God help me if this is a sign of what the next couple months holds. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to work to get a woman into bed, and she is nowhere near budging. The challenge is enticing, but how much time and effort do I really want to put into it? This is one of those times I have to shake my head at my one-track-mindedness. Of all the things to find myself focused on, working to get this prickly nun on my cock is probably the stupidest. Especially when she’s adamant it’s not going to happen.
She slips out of the car, her phone already at her ear. Ignoring me, she wanders away from the limo while I wait for the driver to unload our bags from the trunk.
“Sorry, I know it’s late. We just arrived.” She scuffs the gravel under her foot, her back turned to me. “I don’t know what to think. He’s not exactly what I expected.”
Picking up her suitcases, I try not to eavesdrop, but it’s hard not to stare at her, especially when she glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes flashing with determination. “I can handle him.”
I bet she can. I’d like to see her try. If I hadn’t been hard from that interchange in the car, I would be at the idea of her hands wrapped around my dick. I grin, and make a show of heading for the wide double doors at the top of the steps.
“How’s Sarah?” Her shoulders droop, her head bowing. She takes a few steps further down the driveway. “I knew I shouldn’t have left.”
Dumping her suitcases, I go back for my bags, but really I want to know what’s upset her and the further she wanders the less I can hear.
“Okay, well call me any time. Day or night. I don’t care. I’ll catch the first plane home if I have to.” Her voice trembles with concern. “All right. All my love.” She hangs up and stands there, rolling her neck and staring up at the sky.
I have two women I look at as sisters. Well, one who is my sister, the other is my sister-in-law. Though I don’t spend as much time around them as I probably should and tend to have my head firmly stuck up my own ass when I do, I still can tell when a female is distressed. And even though it isn’t as much fun as playing hide-the-dick with the usual horny variety I encounter, I feel the need to do something to alleviate the worry I hear in Maxi’s voice. Dumping the bags where I stand, I go sling my arm around her shoulder. “Did you know Vegas is Disney Land for adults? It’s impossible to be unhappy here.”
Still looking up, she flicks a sideways glance to me. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” I turn her around and guide her toward the bags, so I can haul them in as well. “Anything you want to see or do, you can do here. We’ve got shows and concerts, clubs, gambling, strippers. Hell, we could even get married.”
She raises an eyebrow, her mouth turning up as she tries not to laugh at me. “Married? You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Well, obviously it would be followed with several hours of very enthusiastic shagging.” I air quote, and wait for her to catch on that I’m mocking her. “And a quickie divorce.”
“You really do work hard to get what you want, don’t you?” She slaps the back of her hand to my chest as I open the door for her to enter in front of me.
That’s the thing. I do. I always have. From the minute I decided I was going to be not only a magician, but world famous, and fucking rich, I’ve worked my ass off to make it happen. Now, I’ve got it down to a science, a well-oiled machine I built on blood, sweat and tears, freeing me up to enjoy everything on tap. So why the fuck do I give a shit about what one scrap of a woman thinks about me?
Chapter Seven
Max
No stranger to success, at first glance Rush Hadley comes across as egotistical and self-indulgent... But behind the fame and fortune, there’s a man only a select few people get to see. – Max O’Keeffe, Godiva Magazine
I’m sitting cross-legged on the balcony of the room I’m staying in for the couple days we’re in Vegas. After Rush showed me around his house, he’d dumped my suitcases in the bedroom and then disappeared somewhere in the two story house, his phone glued to his ear as he’d gone through some kind of post tour checklist.
I’d taken my time unpacking my clothes into the empty walk in wardrobe, and emptied my toiletries and hair products into the bathroom drawers, but I still don’t feel settled. It’s probably because my body still thinks it’s supposed to be night. Instead, it’s spectacularly sunny. Shoving my shades more firmly onto my nose, I open my laptop and check my emails, making a quick detour to Facebook that lasts far longer than it should. I scroll through my albums. The drunken party photos from university, the photos of nights out with friends, and with the guy I was seeing at the time. It hadn’t lasted after Adelaide left us, though. He wasn’t interested in raising a baby with a woman he hadn’t even had a chance to nail. He’d been a bit of an ass about it, actually, trying to convince me that maybe if I wasn’t so frigid and ju
mped his bones then and there he’d have more reason to stick around. But I’m a journo with a minor in literature. I know how to spell gullible.
Clicking the mouse, I delete the one of us kissing at the Hilltop Hoods concert. Great concert, great night, dud guy. A few more clicks and I’m staring at Adelaide in a hospital room, holding a tiny Sarah against her chest. It still stings that on the other side of the camera I’m smiling. That my mother was sitting on the other end of the bed, chest puffed up with pride and Adelaide was lit up, like she hadn’t been the entire pregnancy, as she snuggled Sarah.
And now Sarah’s mine, and I’m not even there to look after her when she needs me. I
start typing up my notes. I don’t have much yet. But I have two months to get the kind of dirt Eliza’s requested in her emails. This story has to be amazing, considering it’s the one and only interview he’s ever agreed to.
And yet, I have nothing. I close the laptop and stare over the railing at the pool below. How am I going to get to know the man if all I can do is argue with him? And it’s not even that I don’t like him, which is weird. I thought it would be easy to dislike him. And he is overbearing and arrogant, but he’s also sort of different from what I expected. Intriguing.
And he has a way with words, a way of looking at me while he’s speaking; even the tone he uses that makes him damn near irresistible despite my best efforts. I wander my fingers along my collarbone, as I replay that last moment in the limo. If he’d kissed me then I would have been utterly defenseless. I’d felt like the only thing in the world that he’d wanted. I’d never been so turned on in my life.
Maybe I need to give in a little, enjoy it for the flirtation it is. Perhaps even use it to my advantage to really dig into what’s going on under his showman persona.
“So have you figured out what you want to do yet?” He leans against the doorframe, his bare feet crossed.
Somewhere between when we got here and now he’s stripped out of his shirt. I can’t help but check out all his tattoos, the ridges of his abs, the lines that taper so nicely into the low slung waist of his jeans. Photos don’t do the real thing justice. “Does being naked ground you?”
“Naked?” A lazy smirk rolls over his face as he steps through the glass door and onto the balcony. His hands go to the buttons on his jeans, he pops the first one and moves onto the next. “You dirty minded letch, imagining me without my clothes on.”
Damn, I can’t rip my eyes away. My mouth is watering and parched at the same time as he leisurely undoes another button, revealing a slight trail of dark hair I want to run my fingers over. Just to see what it feels like.
Another button goes. The hard line of his erection ends very close to what’s visible. “Granted, I’m happy to oblige you.”
I’m two buttons away from a completely naked Rush, and I can’t recall what I was trying to say. My back up against the railing, I try to remember to breathe. Best strip show ever.
Right in front of me, so close I could reach out and touch him, he freezes with his hand still on his fly. Scraping a hand over his hair that’s a bit longer around his face than it is at the back, he brings his gaze to mine. “Although considering you’re the one who wants me naked, I probably should play hard to get.”
No. Don’t stop. Take it off. Damn it, take it all off. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He takes my hand, his long fingers encompassing my wrist and lowers it between us. In seconds I’m going to have my hand on his crotch, and I’m not even trying to pull away. Looks like I’m going with being flirtatious. “You kicked off your shoes as soon as we got on the plane, you don’t wear a shirt when performing, or now. I thought you were trying to get to me, but it’s normal for you, isn’t it? Your natural state?”
“Clothing’s restrictive.” He doesn’t let go of my hand as he turns and walks back inside. I have no choice but to follow him until he stops at the foot of the king size bed. “So did you decide what you want to do with the rest of the day?”
I glance at the bed, and my imagination runs away on me once again.
He throws me onto the bed, hovering above me, one hand stroking my knee before moving up my thigh. “I’m really hoping you’ll say me, beautiful.”
“But we shouldn’t. I’m not that kind of girl.” My fingers dig into the tendons in his shoulder, my legs parting under his palm.
“You’re exactly the kind of girl I want to do.” He presses his lips to mine, nibbles my bottom lip until I open for him.
“...Or we could order in some food, swim, watch a movie?” he says, drawing me out of my head and back to where we’re standing. Still at the end of the bed.
I blink a couple times, trying to clear the images. I have got to get my imagination under control.
He narrows his gaze on me, his forehead furrowed. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I can’t look him in the eye. “That last thing sounds fine. Let’s do that.”
“Chinese? Thai? Italian? What’s your pleasure?” He pulls out his phone as he heads for the door, his step practically bouncing. He seems to be always on, the energy vibrating off him.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you show me who you are when you’re not working your audience?”
“Right.” He does a double take, hesitating briefly. “Okay, meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”
I nod. I don’t know what I’ve set myself up for, but I best be prepared for anything. Oh Lord, please don’t let him be completely nude.
Once he closes the door behind him, I quickly dig out my bikini. I’m not sure what, other than hurricane packing, possessed me to bring something skimpy instead of my usual one-piece swimsuit to wear around a notorious playboy. Up here for thinking, Maxi. Covering up with a sundress, I braid my hair over one shoulder and slip on my flip-flops before making my way down the hallway.
He glances up as I step up to the vertical railing. Still clothed, thank goodness. So why am I slightly disappointed? Aviators perched on top of his head, he’s donned a button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tail out. “Come on, sweet cheeks, we’re burning daylight.”
Oh man, the way he’s staring at me like I’m the only person he sees. I mean I am. There’s no one else here, but a girl could get lost in that gaze of his. It’s enough to make one dizzy.
I put a foot to the top step, and the crippling idea of falling assails me.
Tumbling the entire flight of stairs, I land on my ass in front of him. My cheeks heat and I cringe. Mortified.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he chuckles. “And to think I wanted you. You’re so uncoordinated. No wonder you’re against sex. You’d probably fall and break a man’s dick. No fucking way do I want to touch you now.”
“Have you ever played mini golf?”
I inhale, and push the breath out through my mouth. I am not going to make an ass out of myself. Or at least not any more than I already have. I grab hold of the railing and make my way down. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He grins. “It’s kind of a thing in my family. We’ve done it since we were kids.”
“I’ve played a few times.” I adjust the sleeve on my dress as he ushers me out the door. “I did okay.”
“Sweet. But you’re going to need to be better than okay when we’re in Reverence.”
“I’ve never heard of your hometown.” I follow him to a bright yellow Jeep, with its top folded away, its roll cage on proud display.
“Not many have.” He opens the door and waits for me to climb in. “It’s a small town, well was. It’s growing these days. But it’s still got that feel. You know, time just moves slower there.”
“Do you go home often?”
He jogs around to climb in the other side, pushing his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t used to, but that’s going to change.”
“How come?” Doing up my seatbelt, I twist to face him.
He’s got this wistful look on his face, maybe a little regret. “You don’t ne
ed to know that.”
“You said this was a no holds barred interview.”
“I did.” He pulls out of the driveway. “And you can ask me anything about myself. Anything. And I’ll answer. You want to know the exact measurement of my dick, I’ll get out a ruler. You want to know if my wardrobe is full of Armani, I’ll let you check out every piece of clothing I own. You want to dig into which celebrities I’ve slept with, and I’ll give you their names and numbers and you can get performance references. But ask questions about my childhood, my hometown, and I get to pick and choose what I’ll answer. You’re going to meet my family, but I want their personal lives, their stories kept out of your article.”
I get this sudden image of standing in my doorway, Sarah in one arm, my other thrown across my face while cameras flash and people try to shove microphones in my face. My pulse races a million miles an hour.
The voices blur around me, but some are louder than others, ripping me apart with their questions.
“What happened to your sister?”
“Do you think you have what it takes to raise a child?”
“Look at you. Do you really believe you can do anything? May as well crawl up in your hole.”
“I-I don’t know.” I’m trying to shove the door closed, but they keep coming at me.
“Is there anything I shouldn’t ask?” I clasp one hand to my throat, my pulse still hammering. My chest is so tight it feels like it might explode. I would hate to be in his position, and here I am trying to dissect his life.
“There’s no need to tread carefully,” he says. “You can ask, but you may not get an answer.”
Chapter Eight
Rush
Biting my lip, I thwack the ball down the green, up the ramp and through the hole in the base of the windmill. Maxi’s been weird and quiet all afternoon, and I get that she’s out of her time zone, nowhere near home, and alone with a complete stranger, but it’s more than that. I mean she could be weird in general, and I don’t have a problem with that. All the best people are. But I can’t stop wondering if she’s ignoring some important family business to get this interview with me.