Star Struck (Hollywood Heat)

by Laurelin Paige

  “I know.”

  “The press can be really uncool. They seriously encroach upon your life.”

  “I get it. I’ve thought about it already.”

  “You have?”

  “I have. How could I not? I’m with you all the time. I see it from the sidelines. It’s brutal, I can tell. And I hate that you go through it alone. I’d be honored to share that spotlight with you.” He stretched forward to rub his nose against hers. “But mostly just because I want to be everywhere with you. And if that means I have to put up with a bunch of dickwads with cameras and gossip mouths, then so be it.”

  “That’s really nice of you.”

  “Yeah, you’re supposed to do nice things like that for your girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend.” A lovely thrill ran through her veins at the word.

  Seth leaned back. “Are we too old to be saying girlfriend/boyfriend? Because I am thirty-eight, you know.”

  “I’m still twenty-nine, so we’re good.” Wait, she should probably tell her boyfriend her real age. Though she’d never told Collin her real age. Then again, she and Collin were never that serious, and Seth…Seth was different.

  “Damn, I’m robbing the cradle,” he said.

  Covering her face with her hand, she said more to herself than to him, “It’s not a good idea to start an official relationship with a lie.”

  Seth tensed. “What did you say?”

  She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She didn’t ever tell anyone her real age. “I’m not really twenty-nine. I’m thirty-three.”

  “What?”

  “Twenty-nine is what’s on my resume. Thirty-three is what’s on my birth certificate.”

  He relaxed and laughed a wonderful sexy laugh that made her thighs tickle. “My girlfriend lies about her age? That’s great.”

  “Girlfriend.” Was it possible she’d never tire of that word? Just hearing Seth say it made her girl parts squeeze with need. “I really like the sound of that.”

  “Me too.”

  “I mean, really, really.” In the small cab of the truck, she could smell her desire. “Like, I have to have you. Like now.” She sat forward and began kissing up his neck and underneath his jaw. And could she help it if her pelvis was suddenly twitchy causing her to wriggle on his lap?

  “I can’t argue with that.” She felt him grow harder underneath her, but he didn’t kiss her back. And he was still talking. “But Heather, before you go public about us, I have to…we have to talk.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  He grabbed her face between his hands and waited until she looked up from under her heavy lids. “I mean it. We have some things that need to be said.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” She was sure she knew what he wanted to talk about—the details of how their relationship would work in front of the media. It wouldn’t be easy, and talking about it more was a good idea. “But not now. Now I want you.”

  He considered for a moment. “Okay.” He sounded resigned. “Get off me so I can drive us someplace.”

  “No.” She dug her nails through his shirt into his chest. “I want you here. Now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Heather saw the desire in his eyes. She knew his hesitation was about her. “Right here, right now.”

  “It’s not quite dark yet. Someone could—”

  “I don’t care. Fuck me.”

  “Well, damn. I can’t argue with that proposition.” He took her then—fiercely—stealing her breath as he licked into her mouth and sucked at her lips.

  Heather closed her eyes, happy to let Seth take over, his body telling her what to do and how to feel. It never ceased to amaze her how freeing it was to become a slave to him, to give in completely, to surrender to his love. Perfection.

  His hands reached to the straps of her dress, tugging them down her arms. They broke their embrace just long enough for her to slip free, the material at her torso falling below her breasts.

  “Lean back,” he told her now. “Put your elbows on the dashboard.”

  She did as he said, shaking with anticipation as she rested against the dash.

  “Good girl.” He pulled the cups of her bra down underneath her breasts, exposing her already alert nipples. He licked his lips and she longed for him to put his mouth on her bosom, to tug and bite as he liked to. But he didn’t, not yet.

  He sat back and made a sound of approval. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous like that. Your tits on display just for me. One day I’m going to put you in handcuffs so I can spend all the time I want on those tits and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it except moan and come.”

  Fuck, when he talked dirty to her she was a goner. And handcuffed? She’d sign up for that in a heartbeat. “I own a pair.”

  “You do?” His hands crept under her dress, his eyes locked on hers.

  “They’re fur-lined.” She twitched as his touch reached the thin crotch of her thong. “They were supposed to be my prop at the plays. I left them in the car that night.” His fingers slipped under the material, finding her tender skin. “Ah! Hence why I needed your drill.” Her speech was breathy and likely incoherent. She had no idea why she was even attempting conversation.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember now. We’ll put them to use.” His thumb settled into rubbing a circular pattern on her clit. Without removing his hand, he leaned forward and took a breast into his mouth, tugging with his teeth. “And what about now?” he asked, briefly releasing her nipple. “Do you still need my drill?” He resumed his play, moving his free hand up to squeeze her other breast as he sucked and bit the one already in his mouth.

  A fleeting thought of being really impressed by his extraordinary hand and mouth coordination was buried by the more urgent need to have him between her legs. “If you mean do I need your cock, then yes, I do.” And oh, did she. Was there a word that meant needier than need? Because whatever that word was, that was how much she needed him.

  “Ask for it.”

  And now he wanted her to talk more? “Seth, I need you.” She shifted her weight to lift a hand to his hair, an awkward move with her body still braced against the dash and her pussy going crazy from his ministrations. “I need your cock,” she panted. “I need your mouth. I need you.”

  “Ask.” He increased the pressure on her clit and relaxed the sucking, a combination that threatened to throw her over the edge.

  “Please, Seth. Please. God, I’m about to come.”

  “Wait.” Seth released her abruptly and sank into the back of the bench leaving a cold emptiness in the places he’d been touching her. “I want to come with you.” His hands fumbled with his jeans. Then he wriggled them down enough to release his cock. It sprung out of its denim prison, hard and long. She could see it throb as he put a hand around her to pull her closer, his other hand returning to her crotch to move the fabric away from her opening.

  He tucked the tip of himself inside her and brought her upper body toward him so that their mouths were only separated by a few inches. “Come with me,” he said.

  She nodded weakly and he plunged in. In, in, so far in. Sitting on top of him, straddling him like she was, she could feel him so entirely; feel him so deeply as he moved inside her. She moaned, already close to orgasm. She could go now, before he even pulled back out.

  But he’d asked her to come with him and even though she could probably come now and again with him, she accepted the challenge to wait. For all the time he’d spent waiting for her to get her shit together, she could wait for him this once.

  Seth controlled the activity, even with Heather on top. He placed a strong hand on each side of her hips and brought her body up and down on his cock. She helped as much as she could, as much as he’d let her; pushing up with her thigh muscles which were already quivering from the effort it took to keep from releasing before he was ready.

  He’d be there soon, she was certain. His tempo was brisk, his pelvis pumping into her rapid fire, his expression strained with intense focus.
It was hot and so erotic to be face to face with him, to watch him work so hard for this thing he desired—this thing that was her, this thing that would be shared just between them. The connection between them at that moment, it was nearly too much.

  She was done for.

  Her orgasm overtook her slowly, starting with the clenching of her thighs and ass, then spread down her legs like a gathering storm until it reached her feet. Then her toes were curling and she was screaming, screaming his name, falling limply into his arms.

  And while she did, while her skin and bones disintegrated into a blaze of heat and combustion, Seth came with her. His moans became a poetic harmony to her screams, his taut muscles a perfect brace for her languid body, his touch a salve for her burning skin.

  She recovered slowly, her head buried in his chest where the thud of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing fell in sync with her own. She felt unspoken words between them, things they both needed to say but which seemed trite after the poignancy of what had already been said with their lips, their bodies.

  I love you.

  Those were her unspoken words. They were on the tip of her tongue, itching to be voiced, the only urge left in the wake of her post-orgasm. It wasn’t time yet, though. One more thing she had to do first—the interview. Then. Then she could move on. Then there would be time for all the I love you’s.

  Maybe even a lifetime of them.

  Seventeen

  He had to tell her. Today. Had to tell her that he wasn’t just a carpenter, that he’d reached the top of his career ladder. That he was a Production Designer, that he’d lied and tricked her. God, he was such an asshole.

  He should have told her last night, had tried to, but then gave in to her passion. And could anyone really blame him? Sex in his truck was hot.

  Then after their tryst, he couldn’t find the words. He’d spent himself in her and he didn’t want to destroy the afterglow with his confession. He was filled with excuses, he heard them in his head, recognized them for what they were. No more of them. He’d tell her. As soon as he saw her again. Tell first, sex later. Whether there’d be sex after he told her remained to be seen.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. She had to forgive him…right? He wished he could be sure.

  He tossed and turned through the night, trying to decide what he’d say, how he’d explain his deceit. When the sun came up the next day, he still had nothing except bleary eyes from lack of sleep. Well, bleary eyes and a semi because he always had at least a semi when he thought about Heather.

  He rolled out of bed early for a run, hoping it would focus his thoughts before he got ready to meet up with Heather. They had the day off from filming, but she had invited him to her house for her big Jenna Markham interview. Just thinking about the interview made his heart pound. She planned to tell Jenna about Seth—about her and Seth. Which was awesome and terrifying all at once. It was a lot—going to Heather’s house for the first time, announcing that they were an item, and on top of that, planning to drop the bomb that he’d lied to her for weeks. Not good timing. He should have told her earlier.

  But he hadn’t.

  Now he couldn’t wait. Once his name was out in the world, someone would discover his resume. And that would definitely not be the best way for Heather to find out.

  He had to be the one to tell her. Before the interview.

  After a quick shower, he dressed in khaki slacks and a dark blue button-down shirt, then downed two cups of coffee in succession before shooting Heather a text asking if he could come over early.

  “Come now,” was her reply.

  He dismissed the automatic “That’s what she said,” response that he would have given if there wasn’t so much weighing on his mind, and sent, “On my way,” instead.

  It wasn’t hard to find her house. He’d known where she lived for a while, even though he’d never been there. The drive was at least thirty minutes from his place in Hollywood Hills if he could manage to avoid traffic. Which he didn’t.

  Almost an hour and a half later, Seth pulled into the drive outside her home. The house was ridiculous, especially for a woman living alone, though compared to the nearby Bel Air houses, Heather’s seemed fairly modest.

  It took a lengthy self-pep-talk before Seth could get out of the truck. What the fuck was he pussying out about anyway? He’d done something shitty and now he needed to come clean. Take your lumps like a man, he said to himself. He’d do it as soon as he saw her. Do it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  After working through his hesitation, he headed up the front pathway and rang the bell. When the door opened, he expected to see Heather, or at the very least Lexie. Instead, he was greeted by a bald guy wearing a headset.

  “Is Heather…around?” Seth knew he had the right house. He had to have a code to get past the front gate and the one she had given him had worked.

  The bald guy creased his brows. “Yeah, is she expecting you?”

  Fuck, he didn’t want to explain himself to some strange dude—a muscular Seal look-alike who’d answered his girlfriend’s door, no less.

  But Seth decided not to let himself get all prickly. He obviously had no idea what the situation was that he’d entered into.

  Teeth gritted, he forced a smile and held out his hand in greeting. “She is expecting me. Seth Rafferty.”

  Seal ignored Seth’s outstretched hand and pushed a button on his headset. “Seth Rafferty’s at the door.” He paused. “Yep.” He turned back to Seth. “You’re cool.”

  “I know I am. And who are you?” But the dude was already heading deeper into the house.

  Seth shut the front door and followed suit, his eyes widening at the marble entryway and grand staircase as he passed by. The place seemed much more pretentious than the Heather he’d known and grown to care for, but she’d also changed a lot in the several weeks since they’d met. This house was a hundred miles from the world she came from, the same world he’d come from. Like her, he’d crawled out of the ditch, but he’d never felt the need to run as far as she did, to put so much distance between himself and his roots. Her ostentatious crib reminded him how full of self-loathing Heather had been. Had he been the sole reason for the change? He hoped what he had to tell her wouldn’t affect how much she’d grown.

  He continued after the Seal wannabe through a great room and to an outdoor patio where a whole lot of hustle and bustle was occurring. Seal began helping a group place bright lights around the area, a boom operator appeared to be setting mic levels, and a cameraman was cleaning his lenses—it was as if he’d walked onto a film set.

  It took him a minute to find Heather in the midst of the hubbub. She sat in a director-style chair, her eyes closed and her chin tilted up as a makeup artist powdered her face.

  Damn. This was the interview crew. He hadn’t gotten there early enough.

  Seth looked at his watch. It wasn’t even ten yet and he’d been under the impression the crew was arriving at eleven. There went his chance of talking to her before she went on-film. Damn, damn, damn.

  Heather spotted him the minute she opened her eyes, as if she were drawn to him like a magnet. Her face brightened with a gorgeous smile. “Seth!”

  He made his way to her. “I didn’t realize they’d be here already.”

  “They got here early. Right after you texted. Which is fine. I was a mess waiting for them anyway. But I did want to spend time with you beforehand. And we never got a chance to talk. I know you wanted to last night and now it’s crazy here.”

  From her babble he could tell she was nervous. Or excited. Or both. It was adorable. His gut twisted again with the guilt of his lie.

  She took his hand in hers. “Do you want to slip away for a few minutes?”

  He paused. He needed to talk to her, but this was an important moment. He couldn’t upset her right before she went on film. “You can’t do that.”

  “Actually, I can. They can’t do anything without me. Part of the perks of being t
he star.”

  “I imagine that’s true.” He cherished that even though she’d become more grounded since they’d met, she still had a good amount of diva inside. He wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s who she was, and a part of him longed to take her up on her offer to escape, not to tell her the truth, but to fool around before she had to be onscreen.

  Probably not a good idea.

  “No, don’t worry about me. We can talk later. You need to focus.”

  Seth turned to find a much-too-skinny middle-aged brunette holding a clipboard standing next to them, apparently waiting for their conversation to wrap up.

  “Hi, I’m Myrna, Jenna’s assistant,” the skinny woman said. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to prep Ms. Wainwright.” Her expression said that she was anything but sorry.

  “I’ll join you for this.” Lexie appeared out of nowhere at his other side.

  Seth looked to Heather who nodded reassuringly. “I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll just be over there.” He pointed vaguely to the area behind them. “Out of the way. Call me if you need me.”

  Finding an out of the way place proved harder than he’d thought. Everywhere Seth tried to stand, he was in the pathway of someone trying to hang a light or run an electric cord. Eventually, he secured a spot on a garden wall that was close enough to watch what was going on and far enough away to not be a hindrance.

  On the sidelines, time seemed to drag. Myrna “prepped” Heather for ages with Lexie at her side. It drove him crazy. His leg wouldn’t stop twitching, and if he’d had long fingernails, he was certain he’d have chewed them all off by now, no matter how much it made him look like a little girl.

  Man, what was his problem? He’d been on a thousand sets, this was no different.

  Except that his job was always off camera, and even though his face wouldn’t be on camera this time either, his name would be. And then he’d be on cameras all the time, everywhere he went with Heather, whenever a fan held up his iPhone or a photographer wanted a “Day in the Life” pic.