“Oh, it’d be my distinct pleasure.” Anda snorted. Didn’t care at all if it was an unsexy sound. “We’ll probably need a couple of loofahs for that.”
Chuckling, Chance bent over the basket of bath products elaborate enough to be a raffle prize on the counter. “Do you want our bubbles to smell like pine, juniper, or mountain laurel?”
“I don’t care, as long as we smell the same and get in it soon.”
“Then get over here and let me start undressing you, Sweetness.” He tossed a handful of mineral salts into the tub, and glugged in half a container of oil. Bubbles immediately frothed up in big clouds.
Anda started unbuttoning his shirt. “I want to undress you.” She only made it two buttons down, exposing crisp black chest hair, before he grabbed her fingers.
“No. No touching until you’ve gone at me with that loofah. I’m barely hanging onto my control as it is.” Chance cocked his head to the side. “Unless you want me to bend you over this sink and take you right now.”
As if contemplating his racy suggestion—that did have plenty going for it, if it wasn’t their first time—Anda tilted her head to mirror his. “How many condoms do you have?”
“Dunno.” He pointed to the green-and-blue streaked blown glass bowl. “But that’s full to the brim with ’em.”
Yeah, subtlety was not an attribute of this reality show. “Good. How about we revisit your suggestion for round three or four?”
Chance tapped his temple. “I’ll add it to my agenda.”
Anda began to worry again. About his…comparative level of experience. Chance worked in actual Hollywood, not the outskirts of it like she did. Was he with a different aspiring starlet every night? Women who pulled out all the stops—and their entire bag of limber tricks—to convince him to get them onto set so they could be discovered?
How could she keep up with his amorphous past, complete with oodles of surgically enhanced breasts, veneered teeth and daily blowouts? She was just a woman who, until a few months ago, had spent all her time at work. All her free time thinking about work. There hadn’t been a window to work through the Kama Sutra with a stable of surfer studs.
“There’s an agenda? For sex with me?” What could be on it?
“Damn straight.” He traced the tip of his finger along the deep vee of her neckline. “I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to do with you, to you, since that first night.”
Oh. That smoothed out the flutters in her stomach. Except… “Chance, there were twenty-four other women—stunningly beautiful women—all introduced to you that night. Did you go to bed that night fantasizing about all of them?”
“Only you, Sweetness.” His eyes latched on to hers, and they glittered with an intensity and a burning desire that made Anda catch her breath. There was no doubting his sincerity. Or his passion. No way was he feeding her line. This unbelievable awesomeness was real. And apparently all hers.
Anda hoped all of her reciprocal feelings were showing in her eyes. “How about we make some dreams come true tonight? No, all of them?”
That roving finger of his followed the bias cut of her dress to where it narrowed into a thin tie. “What happens if I pull this? Because that’s the first fantasy I want to come true. I kept hoping all through dinner that one little yank would have this whole thing at your feet.”
“Try it and find out.”
***
Chance didn’t waste another second. He undid the bow, which left her dress gaping open. It only took a double shoulder shrug for her to make it slither to her feet.
Yeah, his fantasy hadn’t come close to the real thing. Anda was so damned beautiful.
His gaze rocketed down, up, and then back down her body. He followed the same route with his hands a moment later. Because he couldn’t resist touching her for another breath. Not when everything was on display, barely covered by a plunging white satin thong and a matching scrap of a bra.
The dark, deep pink of her nipples showed through the satin. As sexy as it was, the lingerie had to go. Chance pushed both cups below her breasts. Fastened his mouth around the small, perfect roundness and sucked and licked while his hands made quick work of undoing the clasps.
She…shimmered beneath his touch, undulating like water. Every place his fingers, his mouth moved, her skin warmed noticeably. Heated for him. Which was a relief, because Chance was already on fucking fire for her.
Her hands curved down, over his shoulders to stroke the length of his arms. As much as he wanted to drive himself into her? Chance could easily imagine being happy just being stroked by her like that for hours on end. Again, not an impulse he’d ever had before with anyone else. How crazy was it that this show had actually worked? Cuddling had never been on his agenda.
And it wasn’t now.
Now was all about immediacy and satisfaction before they both fucking imploded from need.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Anda said, with an adorable pout in her voice.
“My bad.” How was a man supposed to remember to strip with his lips plucking the sweetest nipple into a tight, puckered tip?
Chance backed off long enough to whip his loose cotton guayabera over his head. It was his good luck shirt, picked up in Puerto Rico after wrapping his first feature film there as a stuntman. Way more his style than the coat and tie the producers had tried to stuff him into. The way Anda was responding? The shirt had come through for him yet again.
“You’re magnificent, Chance.” Anda’s hands were all over his chest, raking through the hair, over his nipples, and then down his abs. It stiffened his dick so much that it took two tries to unzip his jeans and push them to his feet.
“It’s all yours, baby.” Chance reached out, palmed her heat just long enough to watch her eyes flutter shut as he pressed harder. Then he added his other hand to rip off her panties.
Her eyes flew open. “Wow. That’s a fantasy come true right there. Every bit as sexy as I’d imagined. Makes me feel like you’re strong enough to tear apart mountains with your bare hands.”
Chance could dead-lift four-hundred pounds. A thong wasn’t exactly a strength challenge. But he loved that Anda appreciated it. “No mountains. But I can do this.” He lifted her into his arms. It was only a few steps to the tub, now frothing and peaked with bubbles. Big enough that he could sit down with her still cradled to his chest.
“Mmm. I’ll bet you could hold me for sex against a wall.”
“I don’t do sucker bets.” He tossed her a mesh sponge ball. “Do your thing.”
Anda wriggled around, which pressed her tight, perfect ass against his dick. Talk about a fantasy come true. She mounded bubbles in her palms and swirled them over his chest, shoulders, arms. Then she twisted around to face the opposite end of the tub. It gave Chance a view of the nip in at her waist that swelled out into rounded hips that he planned to anchor his hands on later.
Then she went up on her knees. Bubbles dripped slowly down her spine. He groaned at the flat-out erotic sight. No way could he sit here without touching her. As Anda slowly dragged the blue sponge along his feet and up each calf, he palmed her ass. The wet heat pumping off her skin almost burned his palms.
He surged forward. Water sloshed as she fell forward onto her hands, lining up that pert roundness like a target. Chance bit and sucked his way across one cheek and then the other. Anda squealed at the first bite of his teeth. Then her back arched, her neck dropped, and a series of low, throaty moans echoed off the marble walls.
Bubbles sprayed onto the windows as she spun around. “You said no sex until you were clean. You’ve got to let me finish, Chance. Because I’ve got to have you inside me.”
“You’re all kinds of distracting, baby.”
“Like you said, we have almost all night. And then…maybe….more later?”
The number one rule in his contract was to not promise anything to the women. Well, fuck that. Anda deserved to know that he was all in. She was taking a leap of faith to be t
his intimate with him. “Lots more. There will be lots of this in our future,” he promised.
She practically attacked him with the sponge after that. Wiping and swiping and scrubbing, while they both laughed. It felt so damned good, so right to laugh with her. Naked and laughing. Who knew it was such a powerful combination?
Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped. Because Anda was straddling him. His dick pulsed against her of its own accord. His hands grew frantic. There was no way to touch enough of her at once.
Chance twined his calves over her ankles, locking her in place against him. Legs, hips, belly, breasts—everything lined up. Most of all, her beautiful face. Those warm, hot cocoa eyes that melted him with every look from under her tilted, flirty lashes. That smile that seemed to brighten more for him than anyone else.
He kissed her. Long, slow, deep. It was like drowning in passion. Anda matched every swirl of his tongue, every press of his lips, every twist of his hips. While his hands raced up and down her back and sides, hers drove into his skull as if trying to push their kiss even deeper.
Then he was drowning. Lost in her kiss, Chance slipped under the water. Sputtering, they both scrambled up. “Time to get serious, baby.” They almost raced each other out of the tub. Chance looked through the doorway at the bed. Nah. They wouldn’t make it that far.
He grabbed a condom and knelt on the acres of fluffy rug in front of the tub. Anda knelt, too. But before she could lure him back into kisses, Chance licked his way from her neck down her sternum. Glancing up, he saw that her eyes were shut and a dreamy half-smile tilted up the corners of her lips. This all may have gone fast, but she was right here with him.
Her nimble fingers snatched the foil packet from him. “Let me.” She ripped it open with her teeth, and Chance sank back on his heels with a groan. Her fingertips fluttered, danced over his balls. Pleasure streaked through his body in sharp shocks. By the time Anda finished slowly rolling the rubber down to his root, Chance’s belly was quivering at holding back.
He scooped one hand behind her head, the other at the small of her back, and tumbled her flat onto the rug. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely. I think I passed ‘ready’ when you untied my dress.”
Chance gritted his teeth to force himself to go slow. Just the tip at first, a nudge against her. But the warm wetness that teased at him proved he didn’t need to be so careful. He thrust deep, all the way. Her back bowed, her hips jerked, and a cry burst from her lips.
Again and again, Chance snapped his hips back and forth. Being inside Anda was a million times better than he’d hoped. And…that was the last rational thought he had. It was all just pleasure. Heat. Softness. Her.
His balls tightened. An orgasm was barreling down on him. From the tight gasps and moans, Anda was close, too. Then her nails dug into his back, hard. A high, thin scream pierced the air as she clenched around him.
Thank God. Chance drove harder, deeper, faster. He buried his face in her neck as he came. Drained, he still managed to roll them over so his weight wouldn’t crush her. Then they both lay there, pressed together in a panting, sweaty, satisfied heap.
With long, lazy strokes of his hand up and down her spine, Chance said, “That was pure heaven, Sweetness.”
“Agreed.” Anda licked her lips and shot him a smug, satisfied smile. “How soon can we do it again? I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”
He felt exactly the same way. Being with Anda hadn’t scratched the itch of wanting her—it only intensified it. Hearing Anda say what he was thinking proved they were so right together.
Or so Chance thought.
Until the next day, after a long night of mind-blowing sex, when without any warning, Anda up and left the show.
Left him.
CHAPTER 4
Seven months later…
“You look skinny,” Jenny blurted out. But her derisive tone didn’t at all mesh with the words. Especially not after pinching Anda’s forearm as if checking for bones.
Anda kept walking right past the bar of The Wellsbourne and slid into one of the giant leather booths. Sitting in the Library Room, with floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with books and goose-necked reading lights on the table, made the bar feel like a club. Or, well, a library. Either way, it was a big step up from the plethora of college bars around UCLA filled with Greeks, jocks, or kids who hadn’t yet learned their limits.
Clearly, Jenny still hadn’t learned her limit on bluntness.
Unwrapping her scarf, Anda said, “Normally, I’d thank you for the compliment. But…that sounded like a criticism? Which is weird, coming from someone in television?”
“It was. I haven’t seen you in what, six months?”
“Seven,” Anda corrected softly.
Because she knew to the day how long it had been since Jenny had escorted her to the limo back in Colorado. It had been seven months and one day since Chance kicked her off the show.
The morning after the best sex of her life.
No, make that the best night of her life.
“Okay, you were gorgeous seven months ago. Now you’re still gorgeous, but trending toward waif levels of skinny. Great if you’re sixteen and modeling and not hooked on drugs…” Jenny waited expectantly.
Oh. God. “No,” Anda blurted. “I’m not on drugs. Geez. Is that really your life? Where when a friend hits a rough patch your first assumption is a new drug habit?”
“Yep. That’s my life. Which is why I’m so grateful to have you as my normal, antidote-to-Hollywood friend.”
It was a sad statement of fact. But it also warmed Anda’s heart to know that their ongoing text friendship as Jenny bopped around the South Pacific filming back-to-back seasons of King of the Island and Paradise Cove: LoveMatch meant as much to the other woman as it did to her.
The waiter approached, but Anda was in no mood to hear the Happy Hour spiel. “The Last Word. Two of ’em. And a couple of menus, because apparently my friend here wants to fatten me up. No way am I doing it alone,” she said with a pointed grin.
“I could make the supreme sacrifice of eating a burger. I’ve overdosed on every kind of fish since I last saw you. Let me tell you, being stuck on a tropical island isn’t as much fun as it sounds. There’s no variety.”
“Figured as much. That’s why I ordered your drink, too. Gin and chartreuse. Nothing fruity or rum-based.”
“Thank you.” Jenny flicked off her fashionable pink felt beret (because even in January in Los Angeles, the only need for a hat was to be stylish). “But you are too skinny.”
“I’ve been exercising more regularly.”
“Doing what? Training for an ultramarathon?”
“Dog walking, actually.” Lots of dogs. Lots of miles every day. Anda had burned through her backlog of podcasts in the first two months. Now she was working through the Rosetta Stone lessons to learn Portuguese. “Dog Walker to the Stars Extraordinaire, that’s me. But I can’t name names. I’ve signed so many NDAs I barely admit my own name when I drop off my dry cleaning.”
“Why are you walking dogs? I thought you ran a boutique?”
“Past tense, yes. I told you that’s how I was able to join the show. My parents’ boutique got shut down, and I was suddenly without a job.” Without a career. Or a future.
Not that Anda was bitter. Resentful. Frustrated at months of job searching and coming up with zero leads because of the horrible recession. So many boutiques had shuttered in the past few months.
But the one thing the recession didn’t touch was the movie industry. Crazy rich stars still paid ridiculously high sums for tight-lipped, trustworthy dog walkers. Anda was grateful for the job.
She wanted to it stay a job, though, and desperately hoped it wouldn’t end up as her career.
Jenny frowned at her. “You told me you were fine. That you were making contacts, networking, and on the verge of a new job.”
All true. In her mind, anyway. Which was better than worrying a friend stuck
a literal ocean away. “Positive manifestation. You have to believe the good thing will happen to make it happen. Or so I’m told.”
Yes, it was the latest trendy self-help gimmick. No, she hadn’t shelled out twenty-five dollars for the book. Anda had gotten it for free at the library, which left her enough to pay for gel insoles (a necessity) and a new, glamazon red lipstick (an emotional necessity).
If this new hoodoo magic whatever actually got her a job from the two big interviews she’d just done? Anda would go back and pay full price for the hardcover in gratitude.
Tapping on the table, Jenny asked, “Do you need me to make some calls? See if I can line you up another reality show gig?”
“No!” Whoops. That was far more of a yelp than a calm response. Possibly even a full-out yell.
Jenny held up her hands, palms out. “Hey, don’t bite my head off. It’s good money for a few months. The work isn’t exactly toiling in the fields, either.”
“I’m grateful for the offer. The money from Man of Her Dreams has been so helpful in tiding me over between…things.” Anda didn’t want to squander it. She used it for rent and used her dog walking paycheck for everything else. Because that big wad of cash from the show would run out eventually. She had to be smart. Frugal.
God, it was exhausting being frugal. And beyond boring.
This was the first time she’d been out in weeks. New Year’s Eve had come and gone with a solo binge-watch of Hallmark movies to celebrate. Because they cost far less than a new outfit, an outrageous bar bill, and whatever ridiculous upcharge Uber went with on the biggest party night of the year.
Luckily, Jenny was good at reading people, so Anda didn’t have to blurt out her sad tale. With a raised brown eyebrow and a knowing nod, she said, “But you’d rather go live under the Hollywood sign than do another reality show?”
“Pretty much.”
“Trust me, I get it. The non-stop drama, the non-stop filming…” she shook her head and burst out laughing. “Who am I kidding? I love torturing myself with it. It’s such a challenge to watch everyday interactions and craft a whole, ‘real’ storyline.”
Blackout: A Romance Anthology Page 15