“I am not weak. But, you. Are. An. Asshole,” I grunted as I swiftly attempted one more time to step out with my right leg, sweep my left leg back behind his, and drill the back of his knee with mine. Only this time, it worked. He lost his balance, and as he came down, I remembered at the last second to drive up with my elbow. It glanced off of his jaw as he narrowly managed to avoid getting drilled in the face. But I was out of the hold, and as soon as I was free, I spun around and swung at him again for good measure.
“You dickhead,” I shouted as he deflected the hit. “I’m not weak.” I swung again. “I’m not a victim.” And again, he swatted away each strike, and we were dancing around each other on the mat as I continued to attack, my rage and embarrassment swirling together and getting the better of me, turning me into a rabid dog that just wanted to snap at him. “I’m not helpless,” I yelled.
“Good,” he smirked, and then he lunged, grabbing for my arm. Remembering the move he showed me earlier, I slipped his grip. He came at me again, and again I deflected it.
Still grinning, he continued to circle me. We took turns attacking and deflecting. He laughed off most of my strikes, while landing most of his. The ones I was able to deflect, I knew he let me. I was beyond exhausted, and strangely turned on, but I kept lunging and dodging, knowing that most of my steps and moves were sloppy and uncoordinated, but I didn’t care. I swung and swung and swung until finally I landed a hit against his abdomen. And then his shoulder. I kept swinging, landing blow after blow against his chest until I was beating on it like a deranged child. Over and over I heard his voice in my head calling me weak.
He let me hit him, stopped trying to defend against my attacks. He just took it, and hardly even winced. Guess that didn’t say much for the strength of my hits, but I kept swinging, even as the tears welled and threatened to spill over in my eyes, until I couldn’t swing anymore, and I collapsed, hands on my knees, head hung, breaths coming in sharp and ragged.
He knelt down in front of me and tipped my chin up with his finger, bringing my eyes to his. “You are not weak. You are not helpless. You will get stronger and stronger, but we’re done for today. You did really good.” He dropped my chin and rose to his feet, holding his hand out. I accepted it with a pitiful, teary smile. He helped me to my feet, and I wiped at the wetness leaking from my eyes.
I let out heavy breath and it came out more like a laugh. “You really are a dick, you know that?”
He grinned. “I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you. You’ll thank me for it later.” He walked across the room and snatched up a hand towel that he tossed to me. I wiped my face and then threw it back at him.
“Don’t count on it. You were mean.”
He turned his back to me to leave the room, muttering over his shoulder, “I had to be, because you needed the push. You needed to get mad, Princess”
I glared and followed him out of the fitness center. “Don’t call me that, or I’ll kick your ass.”
He stopped and faced me with a laugh. “Tough looks good on you, even though you’re about as threatening as a kitten.”
“And sweaty looks good on you.” I smirked.
He shook his head led the way to the elevators. The ride up in the elevator was quiet, the two of us trading amused glances out of the corners of our eyes.
We didn’t have much time once we were back in the room to shower and change, and for me to do my hair and makeup. Somehow, I managed to make myself presentable in time to get down to the lobby for the scheduled eight a.m. pickup. I had a talk show appearance this morning, and then we had to be back here for the magazine interview. After that, it was another interview with an entertainment blog.
At the end of the day I crashed into bed with a vengeance and slept until James woke me again at six a.m. for another sparring session. My hits were cleaner and my steps less sloppy and I was able to escape more of his holds. James’ praises became my sustenance and I strove for them. The next morning, he didn’t even have to wake me. I’d set my alarm so that I was ready when he knocked.
That’s how the rest of the week went. Mornings were filled with training, the days and evenings, interviews, appearances and photo shoots, which left me exhausted and falling asleep the second my head hit the pillow each night. There were no more nightmares after that first night.
Friday arrived in the blink of an eye. It was our last day, and mercifully, I had one interview in the morning and the rest of the day wide open until the party that night. It meant I got to take James to a few of my favorite places in the city and eat food from street vendors—James insisted—and take pictures with fans on the street. It was a good day, especially since I found time to shop for a new dress for the party.
James wasn’t thrilled about shopping, but he did ask me to help him pick out gifts for his mom and sister. In turn, I made him help me choose a dress, since he was going to be standing right outside my dressing room anyway. He’d really taken his promise not to let me out of his sight seriously. He’d stuck to me so closely, any closer and it would have been indecent.
I didn’t mind.
“What’s taking you so long in there?” James was impatiently waiting for dress number four. He didn’t understand why I hadn’t settled for any of the first three. He’d had the same response each time I’d stepped out.
“It looks good.”
I didn’t want good.
I had a feeling about dress number four though, if I could only get out of dress number three.
“I’m stuck,” I tugged the curtain open and turned my back to him. “I can’t get the zipper down. A little help?” I gathered my hair out of the way and watched him over my shoulder.
He grunted and moved behind me. His rough, warm fingers scraped over the skin of my upper back as he brushed a few missed locks of hair out of the way. He gave the zipper a short tug, bringing it down to the middle of my back. I fought the tremor that rippled down my spine as the material parted. I faced forward and our eyes met in the mirror in front of me. His fingers lingered on my back, feathering over the ridges of my spine. I sucked in a breath of air and that seemed to snap him out of it. His hand recoiled and he stepped back, but his eyes never left mine in the mirror.
Holding his gaze, I reached around my back and tugged the zipper the rest of the way down. The silky material slid down my body and pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a black thong underneath. His eyes followed the path of the dress, and then they shot back up to mine in the mirror. They were dark and angry.
“Dammit Riley,” he growled and then quickly yanked the curtain closed between us. “Get dressed.”
What did I just do?
But oh my gosh, that moment was so fucking hot. The look in his eyes . . . I shivered picturing it again. I tugged on dress number four, wiggling the shear, nude sheath up over my hips, until the deep V rested right between my breasts, my mother’s necklace nestled there. I smoothed my hands over the bodice. It hugged me like a glove. Smatterings of gold and silver sequins covered all the important bits and kept the dress from being obscene, but it was still risqué for sure. Easily the most risqué thing I’d ever worn, but I loved the way it looked on me. I did a slow half turn in the mirror and bit my lip. The back was low. Like really low.
Could I get away with this? Was it me?
It definitely wasn’t Laney Pierce, but that only made me want the dress more.
If this didn’t get more than a good out of James, nothing would. I threw back the curtain and stepped out, presenting myself in a ta da fashion. “What do you think of this one?”
His eyes traced every curve of my body and I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I think you’re trying to kill me,” he muttered.
I grinned. Yup. This was the dress.
I was still grinning when I reemerged a few minutes later, fully dressed.
“Riley,” James cleared his throat and shifted on his feet uncomfortably, an actual blush staining his cheeks. The only other time I�
�d ever seen him blush was when I opened the door to my trailer nearly naked. “You shouldn’t have—you can’t do that. This isn’t . . . I mean, we’re not . . .” It was kind of adorable to see him tripping over his words.
“Relax,” I patted his chest and draped the dress over my shoulder. “It’s not like I think you’re falling in love with me.”
Even if the magazine cover staring up at me from the glass table in the dressing area featured a picture of the two of us that made it look like that’s exactly what was happening. On our first night in New York, someone with a camera had captured my little slip on the icy sidewalk at exactly the right moment. James was holding me tight, our mouths so close together if you didn’t know better you’d think we were about to kiss. Only, I did know better.
Nine
James
That dress should have been illegal.
And her skin shouldn’t have been so soft. Like warm silk beneath my hand. The memory of our eyes locked in that mirror while my fingers traced down her spine was going to haunt me. Probably in hell, because that’s right where I was going. She was seeing to that.
She clung to my side like a prostitute on Daddy Warbucks, and there wasn’t anywhere on her back that I could touch that wasn’t exposed in the low-cut scrap of fabric. What could I do but hold her close and try not to breathe in her sweet, slightly fruity, slightly spicy scent that made my dick twitch? I was one wrong thought away from not being able to hide what she was doing to me.
“It’s a little cold in here,” I bent to whisper in her ear. “Need to borrow my jacket?”
She grinned up at me over her shoulder. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” The little minx winked and then led me over to the bar. If only I could indulge in a drink right now. A little bit of Jameson would take the edge off nicely.
Just because I couldn’t, didn’t stop Riley from downing girly cocktails like they were free. And they were. The booze may as well have been flowing from fountains. In fact, that might have been a champagne fountain across the room. It was wall to wall pop stars, rappers, actresses, actors, and industry bigwigs. Mila Silva’s new album, the reason for the celebration, was being piped over the sound system at an obnoxious volume. If there was anything I’d learned doing this job and working for the occasional A-lister, it was that celebrities partied harder than anyone else.
On the surface it was all glitz and glam, but if you looked hard enough, you’d see past it. Everyone used everyone while pretending to be best friends, dishing out backhanded compliments. It was a constant battle of the egos—nonstop one-upping. And in the middle of it all, pills and powder changed hands like party favors.
Riley was two drinks past tipsy and another was only going to push her over the ledge, but I couldn’t stop her when Mila crashed into her at the bar, threw her arm around Riley’s shoulder and yelled, “Shots!” Hunter was hot on her tail. After downing their shots, the girls wanted to dance. I had no choice but to let Riley drag me along and grind her body all over mine.
Any other guy would have been thanking Jesus to be in my shoes. I was just praying for this night to hurry up and end. A starving guy can only resist for so long, and she was dangling herself in front of me like a tasty morsel. I groaned internally, I was such an ass.
She was a job, off limits, I reminded myself over and over as my hands ran up and down her sides, and hers snaked their way over my chest and around my neck. She pulled herself up onto tip toes because even in those ridiculously high heels, I still had a couple inches on her. Her lips ghosted over mine and along my jaw to my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me in that dressing room. You wanted me, I know you did.”
My fingers dug into her waist. “Don’t Riley, you’re drunk and I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. “God, you’re so virtuous. Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman. No one else would in your shoes.”
I wasn’t as virtuous as she thought, but I was fucking trying.
“Come on, just touch me like you want to.” She grabbed my hands and tried to force one lower toward her ass and drag the other up her ribcage.
I yanked them free and caught her wrists. “Stop it.”
“No one’s going to believe you’re into me if you won’t even touch me,” she giggled and swayed in her heels. “I promise I don’t mind.” She pasted her body to mine and flung her arms around my neck again. Her fingers dug into my hair and her tongue darted out against my neck. Ignoring how good it felt, I grabbed her arms and unwound them.
“Enough.”
“I’ll say when it’s enough, and I haven’t had nearly enough yet.” She ran her index finger down my chest.
I leaned in close to her ear. “You can keep playing the bad girl to prove to everyone else you’re all grown up, but you’re still just a girl. I’d rather have a woman who doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone.” I released her and stepped back.
She gave a hurt little pout and I retreated to the bar. I had to put some space between us, or I was going to do something we’d both regret, because despite what I’d said, there was no one I’d rather have than her right now.
She was wild and uninhibited and sexy as shit out there. And I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep their gaze off her. Hunter had Mila Silva in his arms, but I caught even his eyes wandering. I doubted there was a set of male eyes in the place that hadn’t checked her out at least once.
It was that damn dress that made her look mostly naked.
That was a lie. I wished it was just the dress. It was the damn girl in the dress. She was . . . in a word, irresistible. The longer I spent with her, the truer that became.
Riley’s gaze found mine while she danced and didn’t waver. I wasn’t smart enough to look away. Not until someone else sidled up next to me. “Enjoying my party?”
It was Mila and she wore a predatory look on her face that complimented the skimpy, black, leather dress she had on. There was nowhere safe for my eyes to go, so I returned them to the dance floor. “It’s a great party.” I said flatly.
“I think you’d enjoy it a little more if we got a drink in your hand.” She waved the bartender over “What’s your poison?”
“No thanks.”
“No? You into something a little harder?” Her eyes sparkled. “Do you have something on you? Can you share?”
I cocked my head to the side and raised a brow at her.
“No? Fun not really your thing?”
“Not that kind.”
She shrugged her bony shoulders. “I just figured you might since you’re with Riley . . .” she let that hang in the air. Was she implying that Riley . . . my gaze traveled back over the dance floor. Was it more than alcohol buzzing through her system? I hadn’t seen anything besides booze, but she’d been to the bathroom a few times . . .
No. That wasn’t her.
“Well you figured wrong.”
Not discouraged, Mila spun herself around and stared out over the dance floor as well. “It’s funny huh, how things turn out? Hunter said back in Seattle you could hardly stand her, and now here the two of you are. Almost like something from a movie script. Hard to believe. Guess she wore you down?”
What did this girl want? I stood. “I think it’s time I got back to her. Enjoy the rest of your party.” I didn’t trust that girl. She was too fake, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. For some reason I felt like I had to protect Riley from her, even though it was a ridiculous thought. I pushed off the bar and weaved my way to Riley. Her back was to me and she had her hands in the air as she shimmied her hips. It was hypnotic. I snaked my arms around her middle and pressed my front to her back. She spun around in my arms. Her mouth split in a slow grin and before she could say anything, I bent and pressed my lips hard against hers. There was a moment of surprise before she melted against me. I pulled her tighter and pried her lips open with mine. I shoved my tongue inside and it tangled with hers. Her arms wound around my neck and I f
elt her raise up on her tip toes to kiss me back. I dug my fingers into the warm, bare flesh at the small of her back. She tasted like vodka and something sweet and fruity.
I blocked out every thought in my mind except how good it tasted and how soft she was pressed against me and how warm and smooth her skin was beneath my fingers.
When our mouths broke apart and I set her back on her feet she was breathing hard and looked a little dazed. I wanted to kiss her again, but it was wrong. So fucking wrong.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I said.
“I’m glad you did.” She had a soft look on her face, her eyes were sort of hazy.
“No. I really shouldn’t have done that.” But I wanted to do it again, and that was the problem. I cupped the side of her face, and gently swiped the pad of my thumb over her cheek. “It doesn’t mean anything, I just—” Just what James? Did it because Mila was watching? Keep telling yourself that. “We can’t let this get complicated, Riley.”
She shoved my hand away, her expression hardening. “I get it. It was a mistake. I think I’m ready to go now.”
She brushed past me and stalked toward the bar.
Fuuuck. Nice going asshole.
Riley worked her way to Hunter and Mila and I followed. Mila beamed and flung herself at Riley like the two were best friends, but there was a look in her eye that still bothered me. Riley drunkenly gushed about the party and the album and I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. The album was auto-tuned trash.
“You guys taking off?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah, we’ve got to be up at five to catch our flight back to L.A.”
He glanced at the shiny gold watch on his wrist and winced. “That’ll be brutal.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, swinging my gaze back to the two girls, hoping Riley would hurry up and say goodbye so I didn’t have to sit here and make small talk with the pretty boy.
Mila pulled her in for a hug and when they pulled apart my eyes snagged on something slipping from Riley’s hand to Mila’s. Mila kissed her cheek and then the girls separated.
A Taste of Pink (Shades Book 4) Page 11