Lipstick Kisses : A Sexy, Standalone Contemporary Romance

by C. C. Cartwright

  Rocco just goes on eating, as if he’s not part of this conversation.

  He knows I’m right. He would never want the little sister he resents bossing him around at work. Good. I hope this subject is closed for now.

  After dinner at my parents’, I drive home to my empty condo.

  I miss Chandler tonight. Whenever I have to sleep alone in my bed at night, I miss his warm body next to mine. I miss the calming force that he has become in my life. I don’t like missing him. It makes me realize that I’ve grown to need him.

  I don’t like needing anyone. It opens you up to being vulnerable, being hurt.

  I finish getting ready for bed when my cellphone rings. It’s Chandler.

  A smile spreads across my face as I answer the phone.

  “Hey, Princess,” he drawls out the pet name he has for me.

  “Hi, Chandler.”

  “I miss you,” he murmurs.

  “I miss you too.” We’re pathetic, aren’t we?

  “Can I come over?” he asks.

  “It’s kind of late, don’t you think?”

  “I can’t sleep without you next to me.”

  My sweet cowboy says the very thing I was thinking.

  “All right, come over.”

  “Be there soon.”

  There’s a soft knock on the door, and I answer it in my nighty covered with bright red and pink lipstick kisses that I found at Victoria’s Secret.

  Just the sight of him as he wraps his arms around me immediately stirs the passion I have for this man.

  “How was dinner at your parents’?” he asks.

  “The usual. My dad wants me to give my brother a job, and that would never work.”

  “Why not?”

  “He would never want to take orders from the little sister he has resented since the day she was born.”

  I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom.

  “I want you,” I breathe into his ear. I lift his t-shirt over his head and feast my eyes on his chiseled chest and tantalizing abs. I take a nipple in my mouth and suck it in. I slide my nighty over my head and toss it on the bed before crawling in.

  Chandler strips off his jeans and covers me with his sinful body.

  “I love you, Princess.”

  “I love you too,” I say in a whisper, almost afraid to say it back. I hope he means it from his big head and not the little head in his pants.

  Do you understand what I’m saying?

  He kisses me hungrily, and I grind into him.

  “You’re horny for me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, what gave it away?” I laugh softly.

  “I love my horny Princess,” he teases.

  “Then take care of me.” I buck up against his steely shaft.

  “I most certainly will, in good time. Patience, Princess, patience.”

  Chandler believes in a lot of delicious foreplay. He’s a girl’s wet dream. It’s all about pleasing me. I shouldn’t be complaining. He loves to taste every part of me before he indulges me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chandler

  We move on, and things are back to how they were before Carrie showed up.

  Nikki found a house in Malibu that she loves, and she’s moving in this weekend. It’s got an amazing ocean view, brilliant blue ocean for as far as the eye can see.

  It’s a huge, sprawling, one-story hacienda, and a lot of house for a single gal. I think we could be happy there together. I see my future with Nikki. I hope she feels the same way.

  Although she still hasn’t taken me home to meet her family yet. I wonder why, but I don’t question her. She needs to do it in her own time.

  I’ve had the urge to bring her home to Montana with me, but I want to wait until she shows me she’s serious enough about me to take me home to meet her folks. Because she hasn’t taken this next step with me, I still harbor some doubts coming from her side. Does she see a future with me?

  I love being wrapped up with her twenty-four seven. But she’s a busy lady, running that big cosmetic company of hers. Sometimes, she doesn’t have time for me. I try to understand. I certainly would never want to be some clinging loser boyfriend.

  I have more modeling gigs than I can handle. I’ve had to turn down a few, and I’ve been so booked. The girls still flirt mercilessly with me, and I’ve been able to resist temptation and keep it in my pants. I would never betray Nikki, because I know exactly what it feels like, and I care enough about her to never want her to experience that kind of gut-wrenching pain. Besides, Nikki satisfies me in every way imaginable. So why would I stray?

  “Hey, I’m going home for dinner in a couple of weekends. It’s my dad’s birthday,” Nikki tells me while we’re curled up together on the sofa watching TV.

  I say nothing. I’m waiting to see if she invites me along. An invitation is long overdue.

  “Do you want to come home with me and finally meet my parents?” she asks.

  “Sure, I’d like that,” I reply, trying to keep it cool.

  “I need to buy a gift for my Dad. He’s turning the big five-zero.”

  “That’s a big milestone. My Dad turned fifty a few years ago. Come here and sit on my lap.”

  Nikki straddles me.

  “I was wondering when you would take me home to meet your folks.”

  “Really? I didn’t want to scare you off by taking you home too soon in our relationship.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know. Seems like a serious move.”

  “Nikki, I’m seriously in love with you,” I say.

  “I know. That’s what you say.”

  “Why won’t you believe me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I love you.”

  Nikki rarely volunteers it freely. I always have to coax it out of her.

  “Why do I always have to ask for it?”

  “I’m sorry, Chandler. I’ve just got all this baggage, all these hang-ups from failed relationships. My broken engagement did a number on me.”

  “I know, Princess. I would never hurt you.”

  Every past relationship each of us has had forms and shapes who we are now. I know that. I try and understand that.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting your family and seeing where little Nikki Russo grew up.”

  She groans.

  “I was a scrappy and feisty little girl. I had to be with two mean older brothers who relentlessly picked on me. They’re the reason I work so hard to be a success in life—so I can show them up.”

  “That’s terrible that they would pick on you. An older brother is supposed to watch out for his little sister. I did.”

  *****

  The agency wants me to fly to New York for a photo shoot with Anne V, the voluptuous model from Russia. I’ve seen her face and incredible body plastered in every magazine. She was featured in the sports illustrated swimsuit edition, need I say more?

  For my career, I can’t say no. But I hate the idea of being away from Nikki. I need her next to me to fall asleep now. It’s crazy.

  Maybe she’ll come with me, although it’s doubtful. She’s such a damn workaholic. She wouldn’t want to leave her business.

  I’ve been trying to get her to come to Montana with me, but she always has an excuse.

  *****

  During the shoot, they pose Anne up close and personal. Her long limbs are draped all over me. She smells of warm vanilla and her skin is creamy soft. As her body rubs up against me, I can’t control what goes on in my jeans.

  Damn, I’m sporting a stiff one, and I hear her giggle.

  “What?” I ask. God, I hope she doesn’t notice.

  “You’re blushing,” she teases.

  “And that’s funny?”

  “I can feel you, by the way,” she says with her seductive Russian accent.

  I can’t control my body’
s involuntary reaction to her sinful curves.

  “Let’s have dinner after this. We’re in the same hotel, right?”

  I swallow hard. This isn’t a good idea, and I know it. But it would be rude to flat-out turn her down. After all, a dinner won’t hurt.

  We finish up from a long tiring day of four wardrobe changes and one location change before we call it day. She still wants to have dinner together so we decide to meet up in the lobby of our hotel after we go to our respective rooms to shower and change for the evening.

  The paparazzi catch us as we walk into the well-known hot spot where who’s who dine.

  “They lie in wait at this place. They catch me and my girlfriend all the time when we’re out in LA.” The damn paparazzi seem to know exactly where they can catch you at and inopportune moment.

  “Who’s your girlfriend?” Anne asks.

  “Nikki Russo. She owns Lipstick Kisses.”

  “Oh, now that I think about it, I have seen you photographed with her. That young girl OWNS Lipstick Kisses, the cosmetic company?” Anne asks.

  “Yes, that’s her. My Lipstick Kisses Princess.”

  “Wow, you hooked a billionairess. Are you in love, or is it just lust for the dollar signs?” she asks with a gleam in her eye.

  She’s making me feel like the male version of a gold digger. I don’t like it. She’s intimating that I’m some gigolo or boy toy or something.

  “For your information, Anne, we happen to be in love and lust, which is the perfect combination,” I reply sternly.

  “That’s great. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  This dinner is over. I signal the waiter to bring our check. We’re done here. I’m sick and tired of being thought of as just eye candy, Nikki’s boy toy, or her gigolo. I should’ve really thought about it before I agreed to start modeling. People think of me as just a pretty face and a body. They don’t realize that I do have a brain, and I do have feelings and compassion for others. Maybe I should quit modeling. It’s not like I need the money.

  Once I get back into my hotel room, I call Nikki. I want to hear her sweet voice.

  “Hey, Princess.”

  “Hello, Chandler,” she says formally, with no warmth in her voice at all.

  “What’s up?”

  “I just saw you photographed with Anne V. coming out of New York’s hottest dining establishment,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm and jealousy.

  “I can’t believe photos hit the internet already. We had a friendly dinner. She asked me, and I didn’t want to be rude. I can assure you, it was only a brief dinner.”

  “No dessert?”

  “No. If there was, would I be in my room talking on the phone right now with you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you had a quick one,” she adds.

  “I don’t believe in quick ones. You should know that by now. I miss you, Princess.”

  “I miss you too,” she sighs out.

  “I hope I can sleep tonight without you here beside me. One more night and then I’ll be home, warming your bed, sweetheart,” my handsome cowboy drawls and my insides warm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nikki

  This morning at work, I’m sitting in my office, flipping through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan Magazine. They’ve featured an article I’ve written on shades of lipstick. Chandler and Bella grace the pages in my article. I scrutinize the pictures closely and notice the intimated sexuality. Sex sells, I know that. But when it involves the man you’re sleeping with, it causes possessiveness and jealousy to bubble to the surface. It eats at me the longer I look at it, and I have to quickly turn the page. I still can’t believe I get to sleep with this hunk of male hotness almost every single night of the week. How is that even possible, that I, Nikki Russo, the scrappy girl from the quiet working class neighborhood in the suburbs, is with the latest hot male model?

  As I continue to flip through the pages of Cosmo, an article catches my eye. How To Keep It Sizzling Between the Sheets. I love reading the sexy articles they have in this magazine. They don’t hold back on sharing! I always take the lover surveys. It’s a fun and naughty indulgence of mine that I can’t resist—just like chocolate, another addiction of mine.

  Kelsey walks in and catches me. “Whatcha reading?” she asks, eyeing the magazine I have open on my desk.

  “The latest Cosmo issue. It has my article Fifty Shades of Red and the latest Lipstick Kisses cherry campaign ad feature of Chandler and Bella,” I scowl.

  “Oh yeah, I saw that. I love the title of your article. Have you ever thought of writing a book? You know, like an autobiography?” Kelsey asks.

  “Nah, I don’t have the time.”

  “I think you should. Your success story would be such an interesting read.”

  “Maybe someday, but not now. Look at this picture of Chandler and Bella. Do you think they’ve slept together?” I can’t stop myself from asking Kelsey. I know anything we talk about won’t go past her lips.

  She takes the magazine and stares at the ad. “It’s hard to tell. You know the photographer makes them pose like that.”

  “I know, I’m just being the possessive and jealous girlfriend. I hate when I get like this,” I admit, taking the magazine and slamming it shut.

  “Every ad I see him in with some gorgeous model, I can’t help but wonder if he’s slept with each and every one of them.”

  “Even now that you’re together?”

  “Yeah, my insecurities never fail to bring my jealousy to the surface.”

  “Nikki, you have so much going for you and so much to offer any man. There is zero reason you should be jealous.”

  “Thanks, Kelsey, for always being in my corner. You’re a sweetheart to say that.”

  “How do you like your new home in Malibu? Are you all settled in now?”

  “Yes. For the most part, all unpacked. Everything’s in its place, and now all I need to do is decorate. All the renovations were done before I moved in—new hardwood flooring throughout the entire house, and the kitchen has been renovated.”

  “Sounds like your dream home now.”

  “I guess it is. It’s such a sprawling place. Sometimes it feels too big. When I’m home alone, sometimes it feels a little spooky.”

  “Doesn’t Chandler practically stay over twenty-four seven?”

  “Yes, almost, but he’s in New York City for a big photo shoot with Anne V. for Vogue Magazine.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I wish I was. See what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I guess it must be hard to have your boyfriend surrounded by beautiful women all of the time.”

  “It eats at me, to be perfectly honest. I just need to bury myself in work and forget about it.”

  *****

  When I walk through my front door at the end of my long day, something doesn’t feel right. Kahlua comes up to me, and I pet my loveable guy.

  He starts barking at the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony.

  “What’s wrong, Kahlua?” I’m spooked for some reason. A dog can sense danger or a trespasser quickly, but I try to ignore it.

  I walk into the kitchen and throw my things down on the center island. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement out on the terrace. When I look out the glass doors, I see that the handle has been jimmied with. Someone tried to get in here. I take Kahlua, grab my keys and my purse, dash out to my car and lock myself in it. I’m shaking.

  “Kelsey, I think someone tried to break into my house tonight!”

  “No, where are you now?” she gasps.

  “Sitting out front, locked in my car.”

  “Get out of there and come over to my place!” Kelsey screams.

  I start my car a head towards Kelsey’s place in Brentwood.

  Next, I dial Jonathan from my car.

  “You need to get those surveillance cameras and that security system installed tomorrow. I told you to have that done, didn’t I? I will call the securit
y company tomorrow and come and babysit them while you’re at work tomorrow.”

  “That would be perfect. I’ve got a big meeting all day tomorrow and I won’t feel comfortable sleeping here alone until security is installed.”

  “First things first. Get an alarm system installed as soon as possible,” Jonathan commands.

  “You’re right, thanks Jonathan. You’re the best.”

  Kelsey lets me crash at her place tonight. I arrive trembling, and she soothes and comforts me before I go straight to bed with Kahlua resting at the foot of my bed.

  I get to work early the next morning to get ready for my meeting with some new investors. I need to shake out my fears and get down to business. Jonathan has been updating me hourly with text messages informing me of the security system installation’s progress.

  I haven’t dared to tell Chandler yet. He’s still in New York, and there’s nothing he can do. All he would do is worry unnecessarily about me. Besides, what can he do right now while he’s 5,000 miles away?

  When I return home this evening, Jonathan is here to greet me.

  “Come and check out the latest state of the art security system you now have,” he says as he makes a sweeping gesture to a control panel by the door coming in from my attached garage.

  “I decided on a code. I hope you don’t mind. You can always change it,” he says.

  “Not at all. At least two of us, and Chandler, will know it in case I forget.

  Jonathan cringes every time I mention Chandler’s name, and it’s irritating. I feel like telling him to get used to it, but I manage to bite my tongue. After all, he was nice enough to help make my house more secure. He came running to help me in my time of need. I can still depend on him as a friend. I shouldn’t be so hard on poor Jonathan.

  He proceeds to demonstrate arming and disarming the alarm for when I leave the house and when I come home.

  “That seems pretty easy,” I reply.

  “Okay, now you try it.”

  I manage to arm and disarm the alarm.

  “Perfect. Where is pretty boy, anyway? Why wasn’t he here to come to your rescue?” Jonathan asks in a snarky tone.