by Kelly Myers
I roll my eyes and drop down on the stool. “I don’t like being pampered,” I complain.
Everyone laughs and Sylvie runs some mousse through the long hair on top of my head, smoothing it down to the shorter strands against the back of my neck “You have great hair,” she says. “Very thick and the style suits you well.”
“Thanks,” I grumble.
Ten minutes later, she has it looking shiny and perfectly tousled. I have to admit it looks better than it has in a long time. Normally, I just let it air dry. My beauty routine is nonexistent in comparison to Easton’s.
“Very sexy,” Micah says.
I’m not sure how to respond to that so it’s a blessed relief when the repairman from the glass company arrives. I hop up and deal with getting him back to the bedroom and help set him up with whatever he needs. I’ll be glad when it’s fixed because then we can use the alarm again.
Time seems to speed by and before I know it, I’m up in the guest room putting on a fancy Giorgio Armani suit. It’s black with a black shirt and black tie. And, Donna gives me shoes, too, even though I’d rather wear my own boots.
I glance in the mirror and barely recognize myself. I’ve never been this dressed up before and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Despite the fancy label, only one thing matters to me and that’s the Glock I tuck in the back waistband under the jacket.
I make my way down the spiral staircase and stop in my tracks when I see Easton. She wears a red dress that flatters and emphasizes every curve on her body. It’s sleeveless with a neckline that displays a small amount of her ample cleavage and the bodice is made up of a swath of form-fitting scarves and sequins that criss-cross all over, hugging her waist and hips then cascading to the ground in a shimmer of red silk. A daring slit starts high on her left thigh, almost indecently high, I think, and ends at the satin red heels on her small feet.
When she looks up at me, I realize I’m holding my breath.
I’ve never seen anyone look so incredibly beautiful. Her raven hair cascades to her shoulders in waves and a red flower is tucked behind one ear. My heart does a little tumble when she walks over and reaches her hands out. I automatically walk down the last couple stairs and take them in mine.
“You look very handsome,” she says, eyeing me up and down.
“You’re stunning, Princess,” I say, unable to take my eyes off her.
She bats her lashes, hand still in mine as we walk to the front door, with Donna, Micah and Sylvie running alongside us doing final touches.
“You’re going to knock them out tonight on the carpet,” Sylvie says.
“The monochromatic look was the right call,” Donna tells Easton and straightens my tie.
“To die for,” Micah exclaims and fans himself with a hand.
Easton thanks them all for their hard work and they scurry out as I set the alarm. Then, we slide into the car waiting to drive us to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
I have no idea what to expect, but with Easton at my side, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.
19
Easton
I can’t stop looking over at Jax. He’s good-looking in a rough-around-the-edges, bad boy kind of way. He knows how to wear a leather jacket and look hot smoking a cigarette.
But, seeing him in head-to-toe black Giorgio Armani is giving me heart palpitations. My God, he’s striking. In all that classic black with his dark eyes and even darker hair. Whew, I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to keep my hands off him tonight.
Already, I can’t tear my gaze away and I slide closer, pressing my thigh against his. He lifts a self-conscious hand and fiddles with the knot on his tie. “You really know how to wear a suit,” I say. Then, I lower my voice and press in closer, “But, I keep thinking how I’d like to rip it off.”
When he turns toward me, I lean in and press a kiss to his lips. “Easton…” he says, voice husky and strained. His hands lift, then lower. I can tell he wants to run them through my hair, probably all over me, but he doesn’t want to mess anything up. Instead, he clenches them into fists and presses them against his thighs.
He’s so damn adorable and I can’t wait until we’re back at my house, all alone, later tonight. I have a feeling this is going to be the longest movie premiere I’ve ever been to and I plan to leave the after-party early. I have better things to do.
Like continue exploring that delicious body sitting next to me.
The grand opening of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood in 1927 was a spectacular event and people lined the street, straining to get a glimpse of celebrities as they arrived. Tonight isn’t much different and fans press against guard rails as chauffeured cars drive up and movie stars step out.
As the driver opens my door, I gather my long skirt and slip out. Jax waits at the curb and looks a little lost when he sees the endless paparazzi and journalists who line the red carpet. Unlike the other night, this is a real red carpet and it will probably take us 45 minutes to walk down it and get to the theatre doors.
Normally, without all the fanfare, it would take the average person 15 seconds tops.
I step up onto the curb beside him. “Ready?” I ask.
“You really want me up there with you? Because I can just meet you inside.”
“Of course, I want you with me,” I assure him. “You’re my very handsome date and I want to show you off.”
I see his mouth edge up and I can’t wait to kiss him. But, now, it’s time to face the public.
My publicist, Holly, pushes through the throng and meets us. “Easton, how are you, sweetie?” she asks and gives me two perfunctory air kisses. “My, who’s this?” she asks and looks Jax up and down like she wants to devour him whole.
“This is Jaxon Wilder.”
“Very nice to meet you,” she says and they shake hands. Then, she leans into my ear. “Did you finally dump Daniel?”
When I nod, she winks at me. “Good for you. I’d say you’ve made a significant upgrade.”
I glance at Jax who looks so very tall and striking. “I think so,” I whisper back.
Holly glances down at her clipboard then at the watch on her wrist. “No more than two minutes with each interviewer. That should get you to the door in 45 minutes, but with this mystery hunk on your arm…” She shakes her head and makes a face. “We’ll be lucky if we can get you up there in an hour. But, don’t worry, I’ll scoot you both along.”
“Thanks, Holly,” I say. Then, I look over at Jax who is tugging on his tie again like it’s choking him. I can tell he’s not used to wearing one. I turn, brush his hands away and loosen it slightly. “Better?” I ask. My eyes lift to the left side of his neck and my stomach does a little flip when I see the top of his dagger tattoo poking out.
He gives an absent nod of his dark head, eyes glued to the endless people and mayhem. He looks nervous and I turn toward him and take both of his large hands in mine. Our gazes lock. “It’s just you and me,” I say.
He swallows, lacing his fingers through mine.
“You got this,” I reassure him.
Then, holding hands, we step onto the carpet.
A buzz of murmuring fills the air and suddenly every camera turns toward us and flashes light up the night sky.
“Who is that with Easton Ross?”
“What an attractive couple!”
“They look stunning together!”
“Who’s the hot mystery man?”
“Is he an actor? He looks like a model.”
The first reporter wastes no time. “C’mon, Easton, spill it. Who’s this gorgeous date of yours?”
I laugh and squeeze his hand. “This is Jaxon Wilder.”
“And, who is Jaxon Wilder?” she asks, shoving the mic up to his mouth.
“Tonight? A very lucky man,” Jax says and tugs me closer.
Even though Jax is out of his element, he does a marvelous job. As we make our way through the legendary forecourt with its iconic handprints and footprints, movi
ng from one journalist to the next, he stands tall beside me looking like a fallen angel all in black. Everyone wants to know who he is and when they push the microphone in his face, he turns on the charm with a simple, coy answer and devastating smile. He manages to remain mysterious and alluring, and he lets me do all of the talking.
I adore him.
Finally, Holly gets us through the throng and endless questions, having to cut interviews short and hurry us along. This isn’t even my movie. I’m just a guest here tonight, but with all of the attention, you’d think I was the star.
I know who the true star is, though, and it’s Jax.
Jax pauses between the two huge coral columns topped by wrought iron masks and looks up at the exterior of the theatre which resembles a huge Chinese Pagoda. Between the columns is a 30-foot high dragon carved in stone. “I’ve never been in here,” he says, looking up in awe.
“Never? It’s beautiful.”
We step past the two giant Heaven Dog statues originally from China that guard the entrance and enter the lobby. I guide Jax straight through, not wanting to talk to anyone else, and then stop at the open doors to the majestic theatre to let him get a good look. Its ceilings rise 90 feet up into the air and the bronze and red interior gives it an authentic Asian flair.
Together, as we walk down the sloping floor to our seats, I can feel every gaze turn and watch us. A moment later, we sit down in plush velvet seats with a perfect view of the huge screen. Jax slouches down in his seat, releases a pent-up breath and finally loosens his grip on my hand. “I don’t know how you do that all the time. It’s exhausting.”
I laugh. “Practice. You did amazing, by the way.”
“I don’t know about that, but I tried really hard not to embarrass you or say anything stupid.”
“Having you beside me...I’ve never been prouder,” I say softly.
I see his chest swell and he sits up straighter. “I’m the one who’s proud. After all you’ve been through the last few days...You’re strong as hell, Easton.”
“I don’t think I could’ve gotten through any of this without you,” I admit. My gaze lowers to our interlaced fingers and I watch his thumb move back and forth over my hand, stroking my skin and heating my insides, stoking the fire low in my belly. Suddenly, I feel naughty and press closer, crushing my breasts against his arm. “C’mere,” I whisper.
I feel him tense, then lean in, lowering the side of his face to mine, expecting me to whisper something. I cover my mouth and press closer to his ear. To anyone who’s watching, it looks like I’m sharing some secret. But, in reality, I grab his earlobe in my mouth and half-bite, half-suck on it.
“Jesus,” he sighs and his eyes slide shut.
I flick my tongue in and around his ear. “I can’t wait to get you back home,” I say.
His jaw tightens and I pull back with a seductive smile. “How am I supposed to sit here for the next two hours and watch a movie after that?” he asks.
I move my hand out of his and slide it up his rock-hard thigh. His hand stops its upward trajectory and squeezes tightly. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns me.
“By the time we get back home, I want you so hard for me that you can’t stand it.”
“I’m already there, baby,” he says.
If there weren’t hundreds of people around us, I would’ve slid my hand up and checked. But, I didn’t dare. “Good,” I tell him with a saucy smile.
“You’re going to pay for this little stunt,” he promises, dark eyes glowing with heat.
“Promise?”
“Vixen.”
Suddenly, the lights dim and the talking stops as the movie starts. At this point, I could care less about the movie. I just want to get Jax alone. And, he’s right. The next couple of hours are torturous and all I can think about is his naked body. His tattoos. His hard abs and broad chest. I want him inside me and sitting here with all these hot thoughts is making my blood boil.
Finally, after the final credit rolls, we can stand up and head out. The after-party is up the street at a popular nightclub and, just when I’m about to suggest we skip it, my ex-boyfriend appears and sweeps me up in a huge hug.
“Easton Ross!” Lincoln Knight exclaims and plants a kiss on my cheek. “How’s my girl?”
I pull back with a half-smile and glance over to see Jax glowering. Lincoln Knight is pretty much how I remember him, but now he looks older and like he’s done some growing up. The former “Golden Boy” still has blond locks, but now they’re longer and a little wavy. And, those once bright blue eyes don’t sparkle quite like they used to and I chalk it up to all the personal problems he’s had the last few years since we broke up.
Lincoln succumbed to the typical Hollywood pitfalls of drugs, alcohol and women. I heard he’s been trying to clean up his act and even did a stint at rehab, but I haven’t seen him in years.
“Hello, Lincoln,” I say. “How are you?”
“Never been better. That was a great movie, huh? I would’ve loved to have been in it, but the offers have been a little slow lately. But, they’ll pick up. I’m on the straight and narrow again. Cleaned up my act and ready to take the world by storm.”
“That’s great,” I tell him. And, I sincerely mean it. I have no bad memories from the time I spent dating Lincoln. Granted, in the year we were together, we probably spent a total of two weeks in each other’s company. Our schedules never agreed and career came first for both of us.
I can feel Jax move closer and I turn to him and grasp his cool hand. “Lincoln, this is Jax. Jax, Lincoln Knight.”
They seem to be sizing each other up and finally nod a greeting. I’d hardly say either is being cordial, though, and I decide it’s time Jax and I go home. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Lincoln.”
“You’re going to the after-party, right?”
“Oh, well, I think maybe we’re going to skip it-”
“No way,” he interrupts. “It’s going to be off the hook. I insist you both come and we have a round together. I want to know how you’ve been Easton and, Jax, what you did to get this amazing woman.”
I see Jax’s chest rise in annoyance as he draws in a deep breath. I look up at him and shrug. “One drink?” I ask.
“Whatever you want to do,” he says.
“Great!” Lincoln says and grabs my free hand. “My limo’s over there. We can take it over.” He pulls me along and Jax lets go of my hand. I look helplessly over my shoulder. Jax shoves his hands into his pockets and frowns.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
The ride over to the club is a little awkward and I suddenly feel bad that I agreed to go. I know that Lincoln has had a rough couple of years, though, and I feel bad. He pretty much got blackballed by everyone in Hollywood and I don’t want him to think I’m giving him the cold shoulder, too.
Ten minutes later, I stand between Jax and Lincoln inside The Vortex, a hot new venue off Hollywood Boulevard. It’s huge with an upstairs balcony, dance floor, screens flashing strange images and at least ten bars.
Servers walk around with trays of champagne and red wine. I take a flute of champagne and, though it’s no Taittinger’s, I need something to help take the edge off. Both Jax and Lincoln decline. “Do you want to get something at the bar?” I ask Jax.
“No. I don’t drink when I’m working,” he says.
I raise a brow at his cool tone. I hope I didn’t make a huge mistake by coming here. I can see Jax isn’t happy and I tug at his arm. “C’mon,” I say.
“Where are you going, Easton?” Lincoln asks, voice whiny.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I say over a bare shoulder.
“I take it, that's ‘Golden Boy’?” Jax asks, dragging his feet, as I lead him toward a staircase.
I sigh. “Forget about him. I only came because I feel bad for him. The media has been really cruel and he’s trying to get his life and career back together.”
Jax walks up the steps beside me and seems to be considering m
y words. “Really?” he finally asks.
I look up at his chiseled profile and I’m surprised to see so much vulnerability. I stop him, move up two steps until I’m at his level. Then, I lean in and kiss him right there in the middle of the staircase.
I can feel the tension instantly drain from his body and he presses into me, snaking his arms around my waist, molding his mouth to mine. Making it clear that I’m his and no one else’s. The passionate kiss reignites the fire inside of us and when I feel his hands slide over the curve of my backside, I pull back with a husky laugh. “Are you trying to give the paparazzi a good shot?” I tease.
“Fuck the paparazzi,” he says and cups my face in his large hands, gaze hot. “I don’t care if the whole world knows that I’m taking you to bed tonight.”
Something pools low and hot in my body and I back away, lifting my long skirt, and continuing up the steps. His gaze drops to the revealing slit. “Do you have anything on under that dress?” he asks, following up after me like a big cat on the prowl.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” I promise. When he lunges at me, I squeal, turn and race up the rest of the stairs.
“Where are we going?” he asks, hot on my trail.
I glance over a shoulder and shrug. “Somewhere private?”
“Best thing I’ve heard all night,” he grumbles.
I look around and there are a scattering of people up here, mostly standing at the balcony and looking down at the dance floor below or drinking at the bar. When I see a large velvet curtain in the corner, I head that way. Just like I hope, it’s a room divider and we duck behind the heavy cloth and find ourselves in a closed, dark VIP room.
Before my eyes can adjust, Jax grabs me, spins me around and hikes me up against the nearest wall. I let out a surprised gasp. One hand slides through my hair, tugging my head back, and the other slides under my dress, lifting the satin skirt up. Then, his palm begins moving up and down the outside of my thigh in a caress that makes me wonder where that hand is going to wander next.
He doesn’t make me wait long to find out as it curves to the inside of my thigh and finds the edge of my silk thong. He curls a finger underneath the flimsy elastic and gives it a swift yank. I gasp again unable to believe he just tore my underwear off.