by Virna DePaul
I must have looked and sounded so incredibly stupid in the car.
“I’m sorry,” I said gently, my attention falling away from him. “I misjudged you. I can’t believe I was so rude when you asked for a rain check.”
“You didn’t know.”
I shook my head, sick with myself. “No, Garrick. I threw you into a stereotype, thoughtlessly and callously dogged you for having an outlook on life that didn’t match mine. I judged you when I didn’t even know you. And I feel awful for doing it.”
Suddenly, he had me by the hand, his other one gently but firmly holding my chin to guide my attention back to him. “I didn’t let you know,” he assured me, his thumb dusting over my skin as he held my gaze. “I’ve spent years hiding this, Gwen. Not just from you, but from everyone and everything.” I couldn’t look away, the once aloof, angry pools of amber melting into molten caramel before my eyes. “I do want to take you to dinner, Gwen. I want to do a lot of things with you.”
I held my breath. “Like what?” I whispered, warmth rising in my cheeks.
“Like this.” He leaned in, hesitated a moment as he surveyed my expression, and pressed his lips to mine. As though drunk, I felt the world fall away from under me. Instinctively, I shut my eyes. My fluttering heart thrummed loud in my ears and I grew self-conscious, certain he could hear it.
I felt the mattress give when Garrick moved, felt his hands slide from my face to my hips as he came around in front of me. Increasing the pressure of his persistent, passionate kisses and inserting his knee between my thighs, he managed to back me up into the center of the bed. The next thing I knew, I was falling. Looping his arm around me, he leaned me back and laid me down. I weaved my arms around him, squeezing the nape of his neck and the meat of his back. Excitement coursed through me.
His lips left mine and he nosed his way under my chin to run his tongue over the sensitive skin of my neck. Nerves abuzz with excitement, I shuddered when he started opening my blouse, his large hands making quick work of the buttons.
“Garrick,” I breathed, stomach storming with butterflies and a contagious warmth that quickly combed my inner body.
Reaching around him, I hooked my fingers into the hem of his shirt and pulled. With his help, I peeled it off, leaving me with the tantalizing sight of his glorious, muscular upper half. He reached around me with a bewitching sort of ease and unfastened the clasp of my bra. Fingers splayed over the skin of my back, he pulled, prying the straps off and over my shoulders, sliding the garment down my arms, and disposing of it somewhere beyond my line of sight.
Garrick had shared his pain with me only moments ago, connecting us on an emotional level. Could he see into my soul the way I hoped he could? At first, I had wanted to hide things from him, just as he had from me. But after his confession, I craved nothing greater than to open myself fully. Blotto off the moment, and gripped by intense, fiery desire, I nibbled at the shell of his ear.
The heat between us quickly escalated, just as it had in the sauna.
His hands swept across me, engulfing my torso until they found my breasts, which he cupped in his warm, slightly calloused hands. My body prone and willing, liquid heat began to pool between my legs, concealed by the stylish, floral skirt I wore. He leaned down and took my nipple between his lips, gingerly sucking before he gently bit down.
A tremor of delight ran through me. The scent of his cologne wafted up into my nose and I found myself enthralled, desiring him as I had desired no man before.
Slowly, purposefully, he removed my skirt and half soaked panties. I had never been so thoroughly aroused, toes curling in the sheets as he feathered kisses down my ribs and abdomen.
I watched, breath hitching in my throat, as he slid his hands over my hips, spread my legs, kissed my inner thigh, and dipped his head. An unbidden moan floated up from my lips as I felt his warm, wet tongue against me. He licked. I squirmed.
Reaching down, I slid my fingers into his hair. With mind-blowing deftness, he flicked his tongue against me. Sliding his hands beneath me, he cupped my buttocks and lifted just enough to get the angle he wanted. My cheeks flooded with warmth and I bit down on my knuckle to keep from crying out in pleasure. Suddenly, his tongue entered me—flexing and pumping.
It should have been a sin for any man to be this good at this.
Soon, he replaced his tongue with two fingers and resumed licking. Quickly coming undone, I writhed for him. I stood on the cusp of ruin when he suddenly stopped. Chest heaving and ready to beg, I opened my eyes to find him looming over me, gazing down, and beholding me like I was truly something special. I swallowed hard.
His hand worked to open his jeans, the prevailing question evident in his eyes. Aching with need and want for him, I nodded. We exchanged playful smiles before clashing together in a steamy, passionate kiss, somehow managing to get him into a condom between the two of us. I raked my nails up his back, memorizing every delicious curve beneath my hands.
He sank down onto me, settling his weight onto the center of me like the anchor holding me to the earth—the pillowed cloud of the mattress beneath us. Deftly, he looped his arm around me, just under the small of my back. His other hand kneaded my thigh, drifting downward, until he caught the back of my knee and lifted my leg. The expert way he could manipulate my body thrilled me.
“Garrick,” I moaned. In the next instant, I attempted to sit up, fully willing to provide him the same pleasure. He silenced me with a firm, dominant kiss and guided me back down to the bed. I gladly drank him in. As he eased into me, I gasped. Wanting more, I rolled my hips up to him, wriggling in the pursuit of greater friction. I folded my legs around him while he eased in, inch by inch.
I could see now why he took his time. Garrick had no need to compensate for anything where his manhood was concerned.
I mewled, moaned, and pleaded under my breath, ravenously soaking up all the pleasure he would give me, and eagerly, desperately wanting to please him. He filled me. Finally, fully embedded, he willed his hips forward, the two of us finding the perfect rhythm. Already brought to the point of nearly screaming during our foreplay, I dropped back against the mattress, mouth agape and worshiping him in incoherent spurts of sound. Meanwhile, he bent down to suckle the skin of my collarbone as he planted his hand firmly on the mattress just above my shoulder.
His pace quickened. His force increased.
I tried to tell him how close I hung to coming undone, but I couldn’t formulate words. With a loud moan, he pushed me over the edge and release rocketed through me. Soon after, his liquid heat filled the condom. We rode the cosmic feeling through to its conclusion while gazing into each other’s eyes.
It had been so good. Garrick Maze was clever, capable, handsome, successful and smart. Most importantly, he could be affectionate with me and show me without words, something I heard professed on a daily basis—lies for the sake of the silver screen—how he felt.
Boneless bodies lightly misted with sweat, we clung to one another for a few precious moments until sleep found us, and we drifted off in each other’s embrace.
Chapter Fifteen
Garrick
Sensing I wasn’t alone in bed, but that Gwen had strayed oddly far from me, my eyes fluttered open. Clumsily, I lifted my hand and rubbed the sleep out of them.
Gwen, her sexy, slender silhouette blooming into focus, sat on the opposite side of the mattress, her spine ramrod straight as she stared at the thick, coarse curtains draping down from the window bar and drawn across the majority of the wall. I was reminded of the afternoon of the first read-through, when she held her perfect posture for what seemed like forever, her eyes fused with Lyle, Tyler—anyone but me.
The faintest rays of morning light shone in through the crack between the fabrics. It gave her body an angelic halo, skin ablaze in faint white fire. Assuming a quirky, curious smile, I sat up, moved toward her, and peppered her shoulder with kisses, trailing my way to her neck. My hands planted and spread over her back, a featur
e of hers I found irresistible—so fair and well-shaped and supple, the sweeping lines and scoops of her tenderly defined muscles flawless in the dim light.
“Hey, baby,” I greeted, voice husky. Being sure to touch every part of her I could, I snaked my arms around her slender waist, wanting to pull her back into my lap and map out her body with my hands once more.
“Hi,” she whispered numbly. She didn’t move to touch me in return, which should have been my first clue. Glancing over her shoulder, I saw that her hands hung trapped between her knees. The spike of desire I felt seeing her this way fizzled out.
Something told me that she wasn’t in the mood. And something else told me that the reason went deeper than the absence of sexual arousal. Frowning, I eased around her in order to peer into her face. She got to her feet before I could manage it.
“Gwen?”
She paused before replying, attention locked on the curtains before she started to rapidly shake her head. “We shouldn’t have done this,” she fretted, scrambling to collect her clothing, which lay strewn around the bed. She discovered her bra beneath the coverlet. “This can’t leave this room.”
Suddenly cold, I pulled my brows into a frown. “What? Gwen—” I tried to get her attention, but she didn’t listen, too busy pulling her clothing back on. “Gwen!” I exclaimed, hand launching out to catch her wrist. Finally she met my eyes. I balked, the blurry black beneath her sea greens telling me she had been crying. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she sputtered quickly. “No, not at all.”
Floundering in my confusion, my mouth worked to say the words building up behind the blockage in my throat. “Was it… bad?”
She blinked, light coming into her face. “No,” she assured again, taking a softer tone as she sat on the edge of the bed, in much the same way she had the night before. “It was wonderful.” I watched her swallow, avert her eyes, and tense up. “But this can’t happen again. You and I—we have to remain professional. We’re coworkers. This has to be our secret.”
“We could keep it a secret,” I offered, trying to reassure her. “No one else has to know we’re seeing each other.”
“We’re not seeing each other, Garrick. This…” A watery sheen appeared across her eyes as fresh tears sprang into them. She looked up, firmly fixing her attention on the ceiling fan. In spite of her attempt to compose herself, her voice cracked. “This was a one time thing.”
“I thought you said—” I couldn’t bring myself to finish, my pride too deeply wounded. I distinctly remembered her telling me that should we be together, it wouldn’t be a one-night stand, because she was not that type of woman. Was I so unworthy that even she would change her creed if given the chance to be with me? I hadn’t felt a sexual, spiritual, and mental connection with anyone during sex like I had felt with Gwen only hours ago.
Did she not feel that? Would she so easily let me go?
Freshly beaten by my run-in with Rachel the night before, Gwen’s rejection was too much for me to successfully bear. Inwardly, I crumbled. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll support it. I won’t chase you anymore.”
Gwen took a breath, the faint, small sound hitting me like a dagger to the heart. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she found her feet and hurried to the door. She opened it cautiously, slowly, and I didn’t have the nerve to watch. I weighted myself to the bed, coiling one hand up in the disheveled sheets to root myself not to follow her.
I had absolutely no issue chasing women. I enjoyed it, for the most part, and I stood ready to do so if ever the time arose. That time had passed for us, it seemed—a dull glimmer in the distance.
“Love is a flare.”
Why hadn’t I listened to myself? Truly listened? Why had I taken Gwen into my room last night? Just the sight of her had been a balm to the raw burning in my heart. However, the sting had returned in full force now.
Dropping back into bed, I swallowed thickly, fixed my eyes on the ceiling, and tried to pretend I couldn’t still smell the scent of her hair on my pillow.
* * *
Later that day, I slouched on the small sofa in Shane’s room, half listening to him run lines with Tyler. The two of them hadn’t mentioned my blow-up last night yet, for which I stood fairly grateful. I had told the story, at least in part, once. I was in no hurry to reiterate it. My mind drifted in and out, attention foggy and temper frayed.
At some point in the session, Tyler excused himself to go and grab a Coke from the vending machine at the end of the hall. Shane and I were left alone in the suite, and I knew the guy didn’t do well with silence.
“So,” I heard Shane’s voice prompt.
I couldn’t suppress the roll of my eyes that followed.
“You and Gwen. Saw you guys head into your room last night.”
“Yep,” I replied curtly. “And she left awhile later when she realized I wasn’t in the mood to humor her.” A lie, obviously. But I had made a pact with Gwen. I couldn’t let Shane know that we had slept together. It could jeopardize her precious reputation.
“Oh.” Hearing thuds, I glanced to my right to see Shane horizontal on the ottoman, throwing a baseball against the wall, catching it, and throwing it back. “You gonna date her?”
“No, man. I’m not.”
“Ha!” he laughed, sitting up and bracing himself on one elbow. “Awesome. You want to get in on playing a prank on her when we start filming again on Monday? I feel like she needs to loosen up and honestly, I don’t know much more about her than the day I got here.”
“And you think playing a prank is a good way to do that?”
Shane shrugged. “It’s what a lot of actors do on set, or so I’ve heard. I mean, I do have four sisters. I would list pranking on my resume if it was a legitimate skill.”
I thought about it, then reluctantly agreed. Gwen and I wouldn’t be sleeping with each other but hopefully we’d remain friends of sorts. Friends pranked each other. If I remained too protective of her, it could suggest that I had feelings for her, feelings that she didn’t want me to have, which would be doing no one any favors.
“Sweet!” Shane exclaimed excitedly. “Alright. So, here’s what I was thinking.”
Chapter Sixteen
Gwen
After leaving Garrick, I snuck back to my room. Once there, I had an absolute melt down, bombarded by guilt at the brutal way I had left things. I’d hated being the cause of the hurt I’d seen on Garrick’s face. Only I’d had no choice. He didn’t understand that, but how could he when I hadn’t explained?
I had betrayed all my promises to my father by letting things get this far, and if I didn’t rectify things quickly, there was going to be hell to pay. Besides, the chances of anything serious developing between Garrick and me? Come on, it was ridiculous. He was interested in me now, but that would fade. Then what? My broken heart would just be the beginning.
I told myself I’d done the right thing, only why did I feel so horrible?
What if I’d made a mistake?
I fretted about it for a few hours, unable to fall back asleep. Finally, I showered, dressed, and threw myself into memorizing my lines for the next episode. While today was Friday, and the cast normally ran lines together, I’d tell Lyle I needed time alone to get into my character’s head. I’d hole up in my room. Maybe I’d even get a room at a different hotel altogether. Monday, we would continue filming Episode Three, as well as a few scenes on location for future reels. In a frenzy, I flipped through the pages of my script, searching for the next kiss between Payton and Lacey. Luckily, it didn’t occur for a few more episodes, and I would have time to cool down and put distance between myself and Garrick.
* * *
I ended up spending the weekend locked in my room and while I had indeed practiced my lines, I’d spent most of the time under the covers, alternately replaying my time with Garrick to either savor the memories or berate myself for my foolishness. By the time
Monday morning rolled around, I felt drained and confused and still terribly tempted to run straight to Garrick and ask him to please forgive me for the way I’d run out on him. Instead, I put on my professional mask and ran lines with Erica and the girl playing Marisol, Lacey’s friend from her biology class, or rather the girl from biology class intent on making herself Lacey’s friend, who would be featured in a handful of episodes to come.
Throughout the morning, I did my best not to make eye contact with Garrick for fear that the longing look I returned would undoubtedly give me away.
Erica tried to bring up Thursday night, asking what went on after our chat at the bar. Apparently, the boys had mentioned that Garrick showed up in a rage, and that he and I had spoken for a while. I shook my head, assured her that nothing happened and returned to my meticulous combing of the script. I had little interest in small talk, even when lunch rolled around.
Erica went to get lemonade while I saved our table. I had only just sat down and dug my fork into my brown rice when Garrick and Shane appeared out of the corner of my eye. Inhaling deeply through my nose and swallowing a sharp pain of guilt and wistful desire, I prepared myself to talk to them.
“Nice one, Gwen,” Shane said with one of those boyish upwards nods, a click of his tongue, and a wink.
“I’ll say,” Garrick agreed.
I frowned up at them. “What are you talking about?”
“The picture,” Shane clarified.
Still confused, and thoroughly unamused, I jutted my chin out. “What picture?”
“Your nude,” Garrick replied.
My pulse flat lined. My body, instantly cold as ice, felt like it could explode in a billion different directions at once with the softest touch of a finger.