“You have a couple of notable new additions for the gala tomorrow night,” the caterer said.
Over the Bluetooth, the connection was staticky, but I picked up that she was peeved at how attendance had gone way up at the last minute. Adding Anthem to the lineup, it wasn’t surprising. Lots of industry types and fans with the money to do so were suddenly willing to pay $10,000 a ticket to support the cause.
But with a sellout crowd, I now had more reason than ever to scratch Aces High from the lineup. With Logan refusing to lead, they weren’t ready for that kind of scrutiny.
“Finn O’Brien is one of those new additions,” she said. “And Mary Timmons.”
That was good. Now I wouldn’t have to go to Vancouver to close the deal with her and Anthem. I’d been reluctant to leave Cam alone, and going out of the country with her was out of the question, if her only ID was a fake one, as I suspected it was.
“One more thing about the seating chart for the performance. Are you okay with the CEO of Black Cat Records on one side of you and the owner of O’Brien Auto Parts on the other?”
“Miss Moltepulciano goes on my right. Mr. O’Brien can sit on the other side of her.”
“He asked specifically—”
I spoke over her. “I’ll talk to him during the mixer. Smooth things over. It will be fine. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s all for the moment.”
“Well, if you have any other questions, you can call me, but you’ll probably get my voice mail. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
It hadn’t slipped my notice that Cam was disappointed that I’d missed eating lunch with her, and that I’d had to rush through breakfast several days in a row. I was disappointed too. I wanted her to be included in my life as much as possible.
Grinning, I took the next turn fast, like she would have if she were driving. I was almost back to the house. I knew she was home. The car service had informed me they’d dropped her off, but I hadn’t called her. I wanted to surprise her, take her out for ice cream again, then bring her back to the house and make love to her all afternoon and into the night.
Cam had been nibbling on her finger way too much the past few days. I needed to do a better job of showing her she wasn’t just a priority. She was the priority.
I patted my jacket pocket, and my grin grew. After the gala, she would know.
My cell rang again. I glanced at the display and slammed on my brakes.
LA Police. Venice Beach Substation calling . . .
• • •
I saw Cam through the glass, her hair a dark, silky curtain over half of her face. The uniformed policeman on the other side of the desk was talking to her. I could only see one of her eyes, but I could tell she’d been crying.
I knocked on the closed door. A measured knock, which was a feat of gargantuan proportions considering how furious I was. The cop lifted his head and waved me in.
Cam turned. When I saw the bruise and the cut on her cheek from Pete’s ring, my stomach turned. Swallowing the bile that threatened, I pasted on a neutral expression and entered the room.
“Mr. Marshall?” The burly officer with the shaved head nodded at me.
“Yes, I’m Bradley Marshall.”
“Good of you to stop by. We ran her ID. Her fake ID.”
I knew they had. They’d informed me at the front desk.
“Interesting friend you have here. You do know she’s a hooker?”
Cam dropped her chin to her chest.
“She’s my girlfriend, Officer. Is she okay? Is she being charged with anything?”
“No, sir. But she’s refusing to press charges against the man who assaulted her. Seems she has a pattern of inviting that type of abuse, considering the previous incident on her bogus ID.”
She straightened, and her head shot up. “Pete isn’t a client. I wasn’t soliciting. I told you that. He told you.” Cam sounded frustrated. “I don’t know why you called Brad . . . Mr. Marshall, I mean.”
“I’m not speaking to you right now, Miss Moltepulciano. If that’s even your real name.”
She sank down further into her uncomfortable-looking chair.
“Hmm.” The officer stood with his hands on his utility belt. “Can I talk to you alone for a moment, Mr. Marshall?”
“Yes, certainly.”
When I turned and stepped through the door, he followed, closing it firmly after him. The officer looked through the glass door at Cam, who was watching us with wide red-rimmed eyes. She looked like a little girl, lost and in trouble.
“She’s not a hooker anymore,” I said preemptively.
He sighed. “I hope the fuck not. She’s a sweet girl. She’s been riding that bike of yours ten miles each way from Manhattan Beach to Venice Beach every day to buy groceries and shit for Pete’s kids.”
When I took a step backward in surprise, the officer grabbed my arm.
“You didn’t know?”
I shook my head, glaring at Cam. She turned away and ducked her chin.
“Dangerous guy, Pete.”
“Yeah, I know.” Subconsciously, I reached up and worked my jaw.
“I called you because I wanted to be sure her story was legit. That she wasn’t in some kind of trouble.”
Oh, she was in trouble, all right. But not the kind he meant. “I appreciate it.” I lifted my chin.
“No problem,” he replied, his gaze drifting to Cam.
Looked like she had another fan. Her driver, Trevor at the taco stand, the guys in the band . . . the list of her admirers grew.
“Can I take her home?” I asked.
“Absolutely.” The officer turned back to me, his expression stern. “She’s not under arrest. But she needs to get a proper ID.”
“Got it. I’ll get right on that, Officer.”
One hand on his utility belt, he gestured with the other toward where Pete sat in cuffs in another office with two LA police officers. “I’d love to charge that asshole with something. The guy’s kids are scared to death of him. Ex-wife too. Had ’em all in here at one time.”
An idea surfaced. “I have a lawyer working with the ex-wife’s sister to get custody of the kids. Pete’s likely to fight it. Might help if he thought Miss Moltepulciano was going to file charges.”
The cop raised a brow at me. “Might make him more willing to sign over custody, you mean?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it.”
He nodded. “Call your lawyer. Get ’em in here.”
As I took out my cell phone, the officer pointed to Cam. “You want me to tell her she’s free to go? Start the process to return her things?”
“No.” I shook my head, my jaw firming. “Let her worry a bit.”
“You got it.” The officer smiled slowly like I had before my day went to shit.
Chapter 54
* * *
Camaro
“Won’t you talk to me?” Back at the house finally, I wrapped my arms around myself as we reached the living area and turned to face Brad, determined to get this over with privately. “Or should I just go upstairs and get my things?”
His brow creased. “What the hell does that mean?”
“To go. To leave. To get out of your house. I don’t have much. My duffel. My makeup. I won’t take the new clothes, but I have a few shirts, my yoga stuff, and my old jeans.”
“Camaro,” he said, not Cam. He grabbed me by the upper arms, firmly but not gently. His jaw was clenched, that muscle ticking like a countdown. “I’m pissed as hell at you. It’s all I can do not to shake you, I’m that mad. What I am not doing is kicking you out.”
“But—”
“You messed up. Fucked up royally.” He released me and raked a hand through his hair. “When I think of what could have happened . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut.
I ducked my chin, hiding the bruise and the cut on my cheek behind my hair again. Every time he glanced at it, his eyes darkened. Those clouds in his eyes weren’t a problem anymore. Not
when a torrential downpour was forecast.
“I’m sorry.”
He opened his eyes. “That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”
“I should have told you about the fake ID.”
“The ID is what you think I’m worried about?” he roared, and I took a big step backward. “You could have been killed. So many dangers out there, and not just from Pete. Fourteen fucking miles, all by yourself on a bike, and no one aware of where you were. Anyone could have grabbed you.”
“I had my cell phone.”
“Can your cell phone stop you from being . . .” He bit off his words, his arms stiff at his sides, his hands opening and closing tightly.
“From being raped, you mean.”
“I’m responsible for you.” He thumped his chest hard with one of his fists. “It would be my fault. It was my fault you got hurt before, and now I’m fucking up again.”
I stiffened all over, not just my arms.
Was that what we were . . . what I was to him? An obligation?
“It wasn’t your fault.” My eyes burned. “You’re not responsible for me.”
“If I’d done a better job looking out for Rush. If only I’d convinced him at the church to cool down. Jewel would have stayed, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
“You take on too much responsibility for everyone else,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m responsible for myself. My own life. My mistakes. All of it.”
I was that lost little girl. Dr. Jacoby was right. No wonder Brad couldn’t love me.
“You’re responsible for being reckless, if that’s what you mean.” He gave me a long searching look.
“Yes.” I licked my lips. “Of course.”
Nodding, he came closer, and when he dipped his fingers in my hair and brushed it back, I shivered with pleasure. Any touch he gave me made me susceptible.
“I’m not trying to be a hard-ass,” he said, gentling his tone. “I get mad because I care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt. I hate that you did, and that you didn’t tell me where you were. I’ve never been scared so shitless in my life.”
“I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll tell you where I am.” For as long as I stayed, anyway.
I would have to go. I had to be responsible for myself. I had some money now, the cash from modeling.
But I didn’t want to go. Not yet. Not with him angry. Not with him thinking he had any obligation to me. Not before I helped him.
Wasn’t that what my mom had done? She didn’t leave me with difficult directives because they were easy to achieve. She gave them to me because she wanted me to be the best version of myself that I could be. I certainly wanted that for Brad.
“That would be good.” He gave me an affirming nod.
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” I pasted on a smile. “Do you have to go back to work?”
“No, I took the afternoon off. I was planning to spend it with you.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “That would’ve been really nice.”
“I still want to spend it with you. Mad or sad, I want to be with you, Cam. You get that, right?”
“Sure.” He was that type of guy. Maybe not perfect, but as good as they came. “Well, since you’re here, and I’m here . . .”
I reached up and framed his face. His gorgeous face. His afternoon stubble scraped my fingertips, and more sensual awareness surged into me.
“Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”
His lips twitched. “I could eat.”
“Okay.” I dropped my hands and turned to the kitchen.
“It’s not food I want to eat.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me backward into him. His warm lips skimmed the side of my neck.
“Brad.” A warm shiver rolling through me, my eyes fluttered closed. “Whatever you want. Anything.”
He could have everything . . . until this was over. I wouldn’t say the words anymore. I was sure they just made him feel more obligation, more responsible for me. But I would show him. I had to show him. Love was giving and asking absolutely nothing in return.
“You. I want you, Cam. So much. You’re all I think about. All I need.”
Without a word, I grabbed the hem of my tank top and lifted it over my head. He sucked in a breath, and I burned everywhere his approving gaze roamed.
“I love you in that sexy lingerie.”
“You said you were hungry.” I undid the top button of my shorts, then the zipper, and shimmied them down my legs, kicking them and my flip-flops aside. “So have whatever of me you want.”
“Cam,” he said low and soft, sounding like he did when he crooned into the mic. Then he grabbed me and drew me to him.
“Brad. You feel so good. So warm. So strong.” I pressed myself against him. Chiseled chest, muscular thighs, and cock—he was hard everywhere I needed him hard.
Staring down at me, he looked at me as if he’d never seen better, then he plunged his hands into my hair and took my mouth with his. Wet, hard, and hungry was his taste. From him, it was my favorite flavor.
I met every stroke of his tongue with my own. When he groaned, I moaned. When his cock lengthened, my cunt softened. When he lifted me into his arms and carried me upstairs as if I were a bride he was bringing home, my heart melted. It was one shape now. Always and forever, completely his.
He laid me out on the bed. Restless and impatient, I stretched out my legs. My breasts were heavy, my nipples peaked, yet I reveled in his rapt attention.
“Brad, come.” I stroked my hand down the center of my body. “I want you so badly.”
I reached for him, and he took my hand. He kissed my palm, a wet kiss, and drew on the sensitive skin at my wrist with his hot tongue. Then he sucked on my fingers, and I felt each stroke and the dragging pull of suction deep inside my pussy.
“I love . . . your mouth,” I told him. “You do such wicked talented things with it.”
“I want to taste you everywhere. Have you everywhere in this house.” He gave me a dark look before shrugging out of his jacket and loosening his tie.
“Then do. You have the rest of the day off. Right?”
“Might take me longer than a day. I’ve imagined you so many times, so many ways, Cam.”
As he worked on the buttons of his shirt, I stared, my turn to watch him undress with rapt attention. The shirt was tossed to the side, falling on top of his jacket on a nearby chair. As he unbuckled his belt, I sat up.
“Let me do that.” Crawling forward, I peered at him through my lashes. “Please.”
“If you hurry.”
He dove his hand into my hair, wrapping a long length of it around his fist. It pulled at my scalp. My eyes burned from the pleasure-pain, but I loved it. Loved that I made him wild like this.
I unthreaded the belt. Purposefully, I caressed his hard length before unbuttoning and drawing down his zipper. “It’s a wonder all of you fits in your pants.”
His eyes were hot as he stared down at me. “I’ve had it in tighter places.”
“Brad. Let me suck you off.” Dipping my hands in his boxers, I started to draw them down, but he stopped me.
“No, babe. You said I get to taste.”
Removing his boxers, he swept his hot gaze over me, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. I moved behind him, grabbed his hard cock, and jacked it while he fumbled to remove his Ferragamos and socks.
“Fuck, Cam. Stop. I’m gonna spill all over your hands.”
“You’re already wet.” I scooted backward as he turned over. His eyes were flames as he put a knee to the mattress and stalked toward me, a predator on all fours. “I’m wet too. Soaked.”
“Not wet enough.” Poised over me, he dropped his head and kissed me again deeply while I writhed within the cage of his arms. When he broke the kiss, I was panting.
“I’m so turned on.”
“Not turned on enough,” he growled.
Dropping his head again, he fastened his
lips around my nipple, sucking, licking, and nipping it through the fine lace while I praised him and pulled on his hair. He raised his head, not to give me a reprieve, but to do the same wonderful things to the other one.
With his mouth on me, I arched off the bed as I begged. “Please, Brad. Please, no more. I’m going to go off as soon as you put your cock inside me.”
“You can come more than once, can’t you?”
“Fuck.” I breathed hard, imagining it.
“That’s the idea, babe.” He licked down my stomach and along the line of my panties before he loosened the side straps and pulled them off.
“Slick,” he said, gliding his lips back and forth over my wet pussy.
“Yes, Brad.”
“Mine,” he growled before fastening his lips around my swollen nub. He licked it with wet purposeful strokes, then sucked rhythmically on it.
My fingers twitched in his hair. My hips moved. My clit throbbed. Within seconds, I came apart on his tongue.
Tears spilled from my eyes. “So good,” I cried. “You are so good at that.”
“Not good enough.” His eyes dark, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then offered it to me. “Lick.” And I did while he watched me.
“I’m clean. Are you?” he asked, staring into my eyes.
I knew what he meant. This was an issue of trust, and he would take me at my word. After being so angry at me for misleading him. After I fucked up so badly.
I stared back at him without blinking or moving. “Yes, I’m clean, and on the pill. There’s been only you since all the tests at the hospital.”
And there would be only him to remember after this was all over.
“I want to come inside you.” He placed the hand I’d licked clean over my mound.
Just that warm touch and the rasp of desire in his voice, and I started to throb with need again.
“Please do.”
“Ah, Cam. Beautiful Cam.”
He shifted, pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of me, then lowered his head and kissed me again, deep and long. Tasting my salty essence with a dash of him was intoxicating. He was intoxicating, mastering me with each stroke of his tongue.
The Right Wish Page 29