“Got it?” the transport asks, as I push myself up and hobble again on my good leg. “Got it.” I balance with my hand on the roof of Elle’s sleek car. The transport hands me a drawstring plastic bag that holds my leather jacket and the shoe I can’t wear on my bad foot. “Thanks, man.” I tell him and he nods as he turns away.
Once I shut my door, Elle lifts her sunglasses from her face, sticking them on top of her head. She does a quick once over, assessing me from head to toe. The late afternoon sun casts it’s warm rays across her beautiful face and my heart jumps in my chest.
“Does it hurt?” she asks as she presses the triangle button that shuts off her hazard lights.
“Doesn’t feel good,” I respond. She cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes at me for a moment before pulling away from the curb.
“No shit, Sherlock. I just wanted to know if the pain was unbearable. Last night—”
“You were there?”
She glances at me, and I wish she’d just focus on the road now that I know what a terrible driver she is.
“You put me down as next of kin, Kas. The hospital called to fill out paperback and guarantee funds for your CT scan.”
I smirk. “You’re the closest thing I have to family here, Elle. Everyone else is back in the Midwest.”
“Family?” She snorts, her eyebrows jumping on her forehead.
“Someone needed to tell them what to do with my body in the event I died.” I choke back a laugh.
“You’re so dramatic. I barely tapped you with my car.”
“You tried to run me over.”
“Gahhhh!” She lets out a frustrated groan, which makes me rumble with laughter.
“I’m just busting your balls, Elle. Relax.” She inhales sharply and turns to look at me.
“Where am I taking you?” she says, a little more calm than she was a second ago.
I shift in my seat to look at her more closely. Tan arms stick out from her fitted black tank top and thin, long legs poke out from her faded, ripped jean shorts. I shouldn’t be the one gracing billboards, it should be her. She’s a natural beauty. You can tell not a thing on her body is enhanced.
“What?” she says, taking another quick glance in my direction.
“Nothing.”
“Where am I taking you, Kas?” Her voice hitches in annoyance.
“Home.”
“What’s the address?” she says, lifting her phone and tapping her GPS app.
“You should know, Princess. You live there.” A huge smile spreads across my face just as she hits the brakes . . . hard.
* * *
Elle hasn’t said a word to me since I explained that I needed her to take care of me. With my bum ankle, I needed rides to the orthopedic specialist to get a cast and, of course, will need help just managing my day-to-day tasks . . . which basically entails rest, but she doesn’t need to know that.
I can see her jaw tick in annoyance, but she doesn’t dump me on the curb like I expect her to. With my arm slung over her shoulder, she helps me get from the car, to the elevator, and to her front door.
There definitely isn’t a grin trying to pull on my lips as she huffs and puffs and tries to catch her breath.
Nope. Nothing to see here.
I may have rested a little more of my weight on her than needed, but I really needed to play this up.
“Sit,” she orders, as she pushes open her door and we step into the most insane condominium that I’ve ever been in.
“Holy shit, Princess,” I remark as I take in the sleek kitchen, wood floors, and a view that spans the entire downtown Los Angeles skyline. I whistle loudly and run my hand across the marble countertops as I hop toward the giant leather sectional in the living room. “Someone is living large in West Hollywood.”
That earns me another eye roll.
This condo is beyond amazing, how the hell she can afford it is beyond me. It’s modern, chic, and a combination of wood, stone, and everything luxury.
“I need to use the restroom. When I’m done, I’ll get you set up out here on the couch.” She points to the long, white leather centerpiece. It’s definitely the biggest couch I’ve ever seen . . . and looks uncomfortable as hell.
She shimmies down the hallway to what I assume is the guest bathroom. Looking over my shoulder, I can see the master bedroom, just off the living room, its double doors open wide. I push myself up and balance a hand against the wall as I hop to Elle’s room.
Considerably more comfortable than the rest of the house, her king-size bed is covered in a plush white comforter and lined with probably twenty pillows of all sizes. Hobbling over, I slide onto the far side of the bed and lean back, making myself comfortable.
That red dress I thought I saw only in my dreams hangs at the end of a garment rack, and a pair of red heels sits on the floor next to it. She really did have somewhere to be last night . . . yet, she was at the hospital with me. Guilt crept in for just a moment until I heard her voice.
“Oh no. No. No. No. This is not where you’re staying.”
“Oh, Princess”—I smirk—“but it is. That thing you call a couch is much too hard and definitely too uncomfortable for me to stay on. I mean four to eight weeks is a long time to sleep on what looks like a slab of granite!”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Her shoulders rise as she takes in a deep breath.
“Kas.” My name from her lips is nothing short of a growl, and it goes straight to my dick. Fuck, I love when she’s feisty.
“Relax, Elle. It’s going to be awesome being roommates.”
Five
Elle
He was in my bed.
The asshole was in my bed.
He was positively infuriating.
Against my better judgment, I’d let him convince me to bring him back to my place after he’d used those damned dimples on me, telling me he needed a ride to get his cast applied on Tuesday.
I didn’t even know the guy. Hell, he could be a serial killer, which I’d been quick to point out. I didn’t just bring strangers to my house.
His response? To bust up laughing as he told me I was the most ridiculous woman he’d ever met.
That didn’t mean I hadn’t snapped a picture of him and sent an email to myself. You know, just in case I went missing and the detectives needed a pointer at who was responsible.
He’d only laughed harder and said whatever made me feel better. Once he calmed down enough to breathe, he promised he’d be on his best behavior before he’d once again reminded me that I owed him.
But this?
I pointed at him. “First of all, this is my room. You aren’t allowed to sleep here. And four to eight weeks? Um . . . no. You can stay here until you get your cast put on, and then you’re out, buddy.”
A triumphant grin hit his face. “You hit me with a car.”
I set my hands on my hips. “And this is the first time you’ve been in real danger of me killing you.”
He laughed. Freaking laughed. That was right before he started peeling his shirt over his head.
“What in the ever-lovin’ h—”
The words failed me.
All thought.
All rationale.
The only function I had was my mouth dropping open. That and my panties that up and went poof.
Apparently, I was so off-base about that whole Photoshop thing. Because the man . . .
He smirked. “Things are about to get really uncomfortable if you keep staring at me like that.”
He promptly went to work on the same shredded jeans he’d been wearing yesterday.
I sputtered over the panic.
“Don’t you dare,” I finally managed.
“What?” he asked, way too innocently as he worked them over his hips and down his massively muscular thighs.
Of all things holy.
He was wearing those same underwear.
I had a freaking underwear model in my bed. An underwear model who smoldered and g
rinned and threatened to twist me up in a knot of need.
One who also wants to be an actor, that little voice warned me in my head.
He tossed his jeans to the floor and pulled back the covers, settling himself deeper into my bed. “Are you coming, or what?”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
He arched a sexy brow. “Define sleeping.”
“I will stab you.”
“Now who’s the serial killer?”
I screeched a frustrated sound. “Kas, listen, I’m really freaking sorry I hit you with my car, but you can’t sleep in my bed.”
He pushed up onto an elbow, shifting to the side to stare at me from across the room, playfulness still swimming around those plump lips. “What, you afraid you can’t resist me?”
“Resisting would imply you were going to try something with me.”
“Put back on that dress, and I just might.”
Incorrigible.
He dropped his smirk. “I’m tired, Elle, and I know you have to be, too, since you spent last night sleeping in a chair. Get in bed. I won’t try anything.”
My resistance fell, and his goading was back.
“You don’t have to look so disappointed.”
I huffed. “Not disappointed.”
Nope. Not at all.
All I could hear was his chuckle as I stormed back into my en-suite bathroom and to the massive closet tucked in the back of it. I went right for the dresser in the middle and pulled out the bulkiest pair of sweatpants and baggiest T-shirt I had.
I changed quickly, muttering under my breath the whole time, trying to quiet the damned nerves buzzing through my body when I tiptoed back out into my room.
What was I doing?
So maybe I had a reputation of being a little flighty. Spoiled and pampered without a care in the world.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t careful. That I didn’t put thought into my life and work for the things I wanted most.
And I didn’t want this.
The attraction that filled the air. The way my tummy shook when I stepped into my room and Kas shifted to look at me from where he had his head resting back on the pillow. And I sure as hell didn’t want the scatter of butterflies that flapped through me when he sent me a smile.
It was a smile I hadn’t seen him wear before. Something soft about it.
Tentatively, I flipped off the light and sat on the side of my bed. I gulped a big breath and slipped under my covers. Turning my back to him, I laid so close to the edge that I was pretty sure I was going to fall off.
“It’s a big bed, Princess.”
“Not big enough,” I muttered under my breath, clinging to my covers for dear life.
“Relax,” he said. There was no missing the mischief that spun out with the word.
“How am I supposed to relax when there’s a stranger in my bed?”
“How do you ever get laid when you’re always so uptight?”
“Uptight? I’m the furthest from uptight.”
But somehow this boy had me completely spun up.
I could smell him, his warm scent that he seemed to naturally radiate, all sex and man and danger. There was something about him that promised all of those things.
“So . . .” he prodded.
“So, what?”
“How do you ever get laid?”
“Are you looking for pointers?”
He laughed. Warm and seductive. “Don’t worry, Princess. I have no issues when it comes to women. I just thought you might need a little help.”
“Nope, I’m all good.”
“I bet you are.”
Damn him. How did he do that? Push me and pull me and tempt me?
Silence gathered around us, somehow dense and palpable, as if I could feel each twitch of his packed, hard muscle. Every tiny movement. Every pulse of blood that ran through his veins.
“Thank you,” he finally murmured from behind me.
Something foreign bottled in my chest, and I clutched my blanket tighter. “For what?”
“For taking care of me. Not a whole lot of people in this city would do that.”
That feeling tightened. “You’re welcome,” I whispered so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard.
“Don’t feel bad, Princess, I think I might just enjoy this ride.”
Six
Kassius
The slightest hints of coconut pull me from my sleep. It’s then I realize my face is nuzzled into the crook of Elle’s neck, my arm snaked around her waist, holding her tight against my chest, and my leg squeezed through both of hers.
I am spooning Elle.
Tightly.
And I fucking love it.
My lips brush against the back of her neck as I readjust my head, and I pray to God she doesn’t feel the massive hard-on that’s trying to break free from my briefs. She stirs for a second, but the steady sound of her breaths tell me she’s still sound asleep.
I could hold her like this all day.
Every day.
What the hell has gotten into me?
Just then, she twists in my arms, falling to her back. My hand rests on top of her bare stomach where the giant tee she went to bed in rode up sometime in the night. My fingers barely brush the soft, tan skin just above the waistband of those also too big sweat pants.
Even in her ripped Guns-N-Roses tee and gray sweatpants covered in paint, she’s fucking sexy as hell. Maybe even more so than in that stunning red dress she was wearing the other night. I reach down and readjust my boner, praying to God that the little fucker doesn’t get me in trouble . . . he usually does.
I hold Elle for another half hour before she finally opens her eyes, staring at our entanglement, only she doesn’t push me away.
“Hey,” I mumble, my face so close to her neck she has to turn her head to make eye contact with me.
“Hey,” she answers quietly.
“I guess sometime in the night we ended up like this—”
She swallows hard, the muscles in her neck contracting as she barely nods.
“It’s nice.” Nice. That’s what I say . . . nice. Ugh. I’m an idiot. It’s better than nice. It’s fucking perfect. She feels perfect.
“Mm-hmm,” she says before pulling her shirt down, her hand brushing mine away as she does so. After untangling her legs from mine, she pushes herself up. “I’m going to make breakfast.” She sits on the edge of the bed, dropping her head forward. It looks like she’s trying to catch her breath, and I can’t help but smile.
Then she’s up and moving toward the door, stopping and turning back to me just before she gets there. “Feel free to clean up. There are clean towels on the rack in the bathroom.”
I nod, and her eyes hold mine for a moment longer than they should before she turns and walks out of the room.
* * *
Stepping into the utterly giant shower, I’m in awe of its size. There are showerheads everywhere, and there isn’t a square inch of the shower where you aren’t under a stream. I try to put a little weight on my ankle and end up yelping in pain. Hopping carefully under the water I steady myself against the shower wall.
Pulling the bottle of shampoo from the built-in shelf, I squirt a good amount into my hand. It smells just like Elle. Coconut and sun, and I want to lather my entire body in her scent. Massaging my scalp with both hands, the warm water rinses the silky shampoo from my hair. Just as the suds travel down my body, I feel myself losing balance. With my eyes closed, I reach for the wall just as my feet slide out from underneath me.
“Shit!” I yell on the way down, taking every bottle Elle has on her shower shelf down with me. The sounds of every bottle hitting the tiled floor is amplified in the glass-encased shower, and I cringe when my bare ass hits the floor.
“What is happening?” Elle screams as she comes bursting through the door. Rubbing the soap from my eyes, Elle’s face suddenly appears. Her eyes wide, her lips forming the perfect O as she stares at my naked self lying on her shower flo
or.
“You gonna stare at me or help me up, Princess?” I ask, snapping her out of her trance.
“Are you okay?” She pulls her eyes away from me, a blush creeping over her cheeks and down her neck.
“Fine, but a little help would be nice.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she opens the shower door slowly and steps inside just enough to help me.
She isn’t beyond the water’s reach, though, and it hits the side of her face as she leans down a bit to get the leverage she needs to pull. Her tee is soaked and sticks to her every curve. Her nipples hard, little buds underneath that thin black material.
“Good?” she asks, her voice cracking when she gets me up.
“Never been better.”
She releases my hand and quickly turns around as I grab her forearm stopping her. “Need your help, Elle. I can’t do this and balance myself on the slippery tile.”
Her brown eyes look into mine, and I can see the conflict on her face. I can see how I affect her. She gives her head a little shake but doesn’t say no. I reach for the sponge, which somehow managed to stay on the shelf and she bends to retrieve her body wash off the floor.
She squirts a healthy amount of it into the sponge and cautiously reaches out, placing the purple sponge on my shoulder. Her eyes never leave mine as something unspoken passes between us. Maybe it’s gratitude, maybe it’s lust, but right now, her hands moving that sponge in a circular motion across my chest is the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt.
“Turn around,” she whispers, and I place both hands on the wall. One of her hands presses against my back as the other starts at my shoulder with the sponge again. Her motion is slow and gentle and goddamn if my traitorous dick doesn’t betray me again. She stops at my lower back before starting again with the back of my thighs.
“Missed a spot there, Princess,” I say when I look over my shoulder at her.
“You can wash your own ass,” she scoffs, shoving the sponge at me. I turn around and her eyes go where I hoped they would.
One Wild Ride: A Hollywood Chronicles Novel Page 3