by S. M. West
Eli thrusts his hand out for a shake, no indication he recognizes me, and I’m fascinated by his long fingers, knowing all too well how his hand feels on my body.
How those calloused digits dug into the flesh of my thighs, gripped my backside, and stroked me into a frenzy. I experience a strong tug low in my stomach at the clear memory.
“Pru?” Lydia’s agitation yanks me from my trance.
Mindlessly, I lift my arm, and my chest rises and falls rapidly. Every part of my body tingles in anticipation, and my hand ignites at his scorching touch.
Eli Lansing was my unforgettable one-night stand.
5
Eli
At a loss for words
Holy!
My eyes play tricks on me.
My body betrays me.
It’s her.
The woman I can’t get out of my head.
“Nice to meet you.” Expression blank, I reluctantly release her hand and step back.
Inwardly, I revel in the effect I have on her. Lush lips part slightly, cheeks flush, and she’s speechless. Her breathing comes in shallow pants, making it hard to keep my eyes off her rising and falling chest.
She’s wearing killer heels, a light gray pencil skirt that fits her like a glove, sexy and classy, and a pastel pink blouse. Her blonde hair falls loosely to below her jawline, framing her heart-shaped face.
She’s delectable. Good enough to eat.
Still at a loss for words, she fixes her magnificent gem-like eyes on me. The PA clears her throat loudly and not so subtly nudges Pru. In turn, the blonde blinks several times and her trance-like demeanor fades.
“Um, ah, sorry. You’re Eli Lansing?” She tilts her head to the side as if examining me from another angle might change my answer.
“Yes. The one and only.”
“You were the lead guitarist for Trojan, weren’t you?” Her gaze is now more alert.
Her PA relaxes, shoulders loosening as she exhales and heads for the door. “Pru, I’m going to leave unless either of you need anything.” The brunette looks from her to me and we shake our heads. “Okay. You have about an hour and a half. I’ll be back.”
She’s out the door, and now it’s just the two of us.
We stare at each other. Silence fills the space.
What are the freaking chances? My wild one-night stand from a week ago is in front of me. And even more, we’re going to be working together for the coming weeks.
One-night stands aren’t supposed to go like this. It’s a one-time deal hence the name. I’ve never run into another one of my one-night stands before.
Wait. That’s not true. Melanie. Crystal’s mother.
She came back into my life unexpectedly and changed everything. But what are the odds of it happening to the same guy twice in a lifetime?
Unbelievable. No one would believe it, and I sure don’t even though she’s here, in front of me.
Is this woman, Pru, another Melanie? Is this incredible second encounter a cruel trick of fate? Will she ransack my life and leave me to pick up the pieces?
“Are you that Eli Lansing?”
“Yup, that’s me. Why? Are you a fan of Trojan?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip, still studying me. Will she be first to mention The Salon?
I shake my head and rub at the back of my neck. We’re both floundering here, and I have to move this along.
“Ah, I’m sure you’ve figured out we’ve already met.” I rake a hand through my hair.
Heat flares in her eyes and she nods, breathing a little faster. At the same time we say, “The Salon.”
A lopsided grin claims my mouth, and she licks her lips—those sexy, soft lips.
Cherry sweetness.
She tastes like cherries.
“Yes. That was then. This is now, and now we’re working together,” she cautions, and I can’t tell if she’s warning me, herself, or both of us.
She’s right even if I don’t like it. I’m looking for a long-term relationship, not a random hookup. Even if the sex was out of this world, hot as hell, and I can’t get the woman off my mind.
“Agreed. Let’s keep this professional.” I saunter over to the couch and sit.
She moves to the seat farthest from me and somehow makes it look like she isn’t trying to keep her distance. That’s exactly what she’s doing, and it’s a good idea.
“Yes. That was a one-time deal.” She nods for emphasis.
“For sure…I wish I could say I’ve never done anything like that before but I can’t.” Why am I rambling?
A hand flies into the air in the universal stop sign. “Ah, too much information. Stop. And before you think you’ll get points for honesty, nope. We’re not doing this.”
“Yeah, sorry, I shouldn’t have gone there. What exactly do you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to rehash that night. We were both there.” Her words, like magic, instantly conjure colorful mental images of us, arms and legs, lips and tongues, from that night.
And by the way her cheeks now flush, she’s doing the same.
Blowing out a harsh breath, she straightens. “I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I don’t do one-night stands.” Now squirming in her seat, she closes those magnificent eyes to me. “Why do women do that?”
“Do what?” I realize the question isn’t for me when she looks heavenward, exasperated at…me? Herself?
“Feel the need to justify casual sex.” She gets up, now pacing back and forth.
I’m mesmerized by the flex of her calf muscles, her long legs, and how the fabric of her skirt accentuates her perfect ass. I should look away but can’t.
“There’s nothing wrong with sex so long as we’re consenting adults and responsible.” She plants her hands on her hips, still lost to her own thoughts. “Women like sex just as much as men do. I mean, guys do it all the time and they don’t rationalize it or even care what people think.”
Twirling on one skyscraper heel, she stabs me with her now darkened eyes. I nod, vigorously, agreeing with every word out of her pretty mouth even if I wish she’d stop saying sex.
Every time she utters the word, like lightning blazing across the sky, images of us in the private restroom of The Salon streak through my mind.
Vivid and bright.
Oh, what a night.
The sex was unreal, and now, I shamelessly devour her every move, unable to look away. She’s my most outrageous fantasy. I long for a repeat.
No. No. No.
“But here I go, like so many women, feeling the need to explain why I wanted to fuck a hot-as-hell man without so much as getting his name.” She clamps her lips shut, hands flying to cover her mouth.
Holy hell, my pants tighten at her admission of wanting me as much as I wanted her. “You think I’m hot as hell?”
There she goes again, arching one perfectly blonde brow, eyes twinkling.
“I get it.” My words are a strangled choke, still willing my body to cool the fuck down.
One arm casually glides along the back of the couch, and I slide a hand into my pocket, readjusting and trying to lessen the confinement in the crotch of my pants. Next to impossible thanks to the growing bulge.
“Oh my God.” She slumps into the chair, hands dropping to her sides, and hangs her head. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
Blonde hair falls in front of her face, and she lets out a snort, shoulders shaking. She’s laughing, I think. I hope she’s laughing and not crying.
She’s clearly uncomfortable with this situation, and I’m not sure how to fix it. I’m working on a movie, contractually obligated to do this film, and I want to do the film. I can’t offer to walk away to make her feel better.
But she hasn’t asked anything of me either. Maybe we can work this out, move past the sex, and do the jobs we’re meant to do.
“I can’t believe I rambled like a complete idiot.” Raising her head, she wipes at the corner of one eye and flashes m
e a grin.
“It’s okay. This is unusual.” I move a hand back and forth between us. “But it doesn’t have to be awkward.”
“Can we start over?” Hands splayed on the tops of her thighs, she smooths them down her skirt.
Even disturbed, she’s bold, not shying away from direct eye contact. And damn if I don’t like it. So far, there isn’t anything I don’t like about her. Even when she’s spouting whatever pops into her head. It’s cute in a quirky kind of way.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m going to go out and come back in. You’re an actor, so let’s pretend that was my first dismal take. As you can tell, I can’t act to save my life, but I promise the second take will be better.”
She jumps up, grinning sheepishly, and walks to the door, hips seductively swaying. I force my gaze not to stray anywhere south of her face.
Eli, be a freaking gentleman.
Pru leaves, then knocks on the door and I’m quick to open it.
“Hi, I’m Eli Lansing.” I extend a hand once more, eager for any excuse to touch her.
Lust barrels through me when my hand envelops hers. Her skin is impossibly soft, and I’m firmly immersed in the racy reverie of the night at The Salon once more.
No matter how hard I try to move past the hottest sex of my life, it’s impossible. My palms tingle and fingertips itch at the mere thought of how I greedily roamed her sensuous body that night.
“Hi, Eli. I’m Pru, your foreign dialect coach.” She brushes past me.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No. I’m good.” She places her bag on her lap and pulls out the script. “Hmmm.” She absently glances up from flipping through the pages. “I know we’re supposed to be talking about the movie, but for one second can we take a detour?”
Now sitting, I rest my forearms on my thighs, leaning forward. “Um, okay. What do you mean?”
“It’s about Trojan.”
I nod, not really surprised. Trojan was a huge deal and a killer ride. And some days, I miss it.
I miss making music, playing, and that indescribable rush you get from the crowd. It’s more potent than any drug, although the way I feel right now is coming pretty close.
“You might not believe me, but while I am a fan of the band, I didn’t recognize you at The Salon.” She clasps her hands together. “I mean, there was something familiar about you. Obviously, I thought you were hot—”
“Hmmm.” I smirk at another quirk of her brow. “Before we move on…I believe you. I never had the sense you knew who I was.”
“Good. You looked different, even now, than when you’re up on stage playing your guitar and singing.”
“That makes sense. Our brains recall information by recreation, using associations to remember a face or recall a name. So me without a guitar or the rest of the band could make it tricky for you to place me.”
“Yes, something like that. And now you’re an actor?”
“Yes. For a little over a year now. I moved from LA to New York and have a starring role in Breaking Point, and this is my first movie.”
“Breaking Point?” She blinks quizzically.
“It’s one of the leading TV drama series. We’re currently filming season two and have been signed on for a third.”
“Oh.”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Sorry, no.” She shakes her head, short blonde hair swaying with the movement. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t watch TV.”
“Really? What do you do to unwind and chill if you don’t watch mindless TV?”
“Now that’s a little too close to a first date kind of conversation, don’t you think? And nothing to do with why we’re here.” She’s firm, continuing her review of the script. “Which scene will be filmed first?”
“After the other coach quit, Bryce rearranged the film schedule.” I stretch across the sofa to nab my phone from a side table. “He back-ended the Spanish and Russian scenes. We’re almost done with all the English.”
“The other coach? Is that Alina?”
“Yeah. You know her?”
“No. Tristan mentioned her. How far did she get with you?”
“When we first started, she gave us practice materials like pronunciation guides and phonetic spelling. She also did a few rehearsals, but since we’ve started filming, not so much.”
The movie is easily ninety percent English, but there are pages and pages of dialogue in both Spanish and Russian that I have to nail. The end is near, but I could still fuck this up.
“And now, we’ve got about two weeks before we start filming the foreign scenes.” I scroll through the details on my phone and hand it to her.
“Thanks.” She takes a screen shot with her own phone.
“You know, your PA can get you a copy or you can text it to yourself.” It sounds like I’m angling for her number. I totally am.
She stills but doesn’t lift her head to look at me. “This works.” At the same time, I say, “Or I can get my PA to print one for you.”
“It’s okay.” Finally, her gorgeous blue eyes peer up at me. “This will help make me sound like I know what the hell I’m doing when I meet Bryce.”
I chuckle, reaching for the phone. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure you’ll be great. He wouldn’t have hired you otherwise.”
“I should warn you. I’ve never done this before.”
“What exactly are we talking about?” There’s a naughty edge to my tone, not sure if she’s referring to working with a guy she hooked up with or what.
Then I silently chastise myself when she pierces me with a hard glare, not in the least bit entertained by my flirting. Why can’t I keep this professional?
Because I know how fucking free and beautiful she looks when she comes. Fuck me. Am I coming off like I don’t respect her or can’t work with her?
“Pru, I’m an ass. Sorry.”
“I’ve never been a foreign language dialect coach, but I speak fluent Spanish and Russian. So bear with me.” Her fingers curl tightly around her phone. “Okay, if I’m reading this correctly, what’s outlined here is the scene order for filming, right?”
I nod, not trusting myself to keep it PG if I dare open my mouth.
“Okay. Let’s get to it.” She tucks her phone into her purse. “Tell me about your character.”
We spend the rest of our time together focused on the movie, the characters, and the emotions it should evoke from the viewer. Then she takes me through the first scene, translating it within the context of our discussion.
Brian, my PA, interrupts just as she finishes her readthrough of the scene. “Eli, time’s up.” He holds the door open. “And Pru, Lydia’s here.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She stands and looks at me. “See you tomorrow.”
Tongue-tied, I nod and smile. Brian dives into something about my schedule while I stare dumbfounded after her. Eventually, he leaves and I’m alone with my troublesome thoughts.
This fierce draw to a woman is new to me. Sure, I like women and have been attracted to several before. But Pru…her magnetism is larger than life and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
And as easy as it would be to get lost in her, I can’t. I have a driving urge for this woman, but it’s because of my messed-up head, or more my body. I’m living the life of a monk and have been for years.
The instant I found out I was going to be a father, my rock star life died, and despite the shock, truth be told, I was okay with that.
Unfortunately, I’ve had more than my fair share of meaningless hook-ups. Everything they say about rock stars is true.
Don’t get me wrong, I took my career seriously. Before my daughter, music was my first love. I never shirked my responsibilities nor took my talent for granted.
But once the show was done, the music made…it was a fucking free-for-all. The groupies, sex, drugs, and alcohol.
And sadly, for a while, I was young, singl
e, and living the dream…and near out of control. Yeah, that lifestyle was thrilling and hedonistic, a full-on high…to a point.
Shit, that’s how I found myself a father at twenty-four. But if I’m being honest, at the end of the day, that life was also lonely and empty.
With my daughter on the way, even while Melanie and I had no plans to get married or anything like that—that would have been a disaster—we were going to raise the child together.
And with that sobering thought, I did a full one-eighty. Cleaned up my act overnight and never looked back.
Crystal became my number one everything, which pretty much left very little time for anything else, let alone indulgences, including women.
Until a week ago, I’m embarrassed to say how long it had been since I’d had sex.
But with fatherhood and my career came a trade-off and that night at The Salon…I didn’t recognize it at the time, but my behavior was pure rebellion.
I’d been fed up with the dating app and my impatience in finding a woman I could possibly have a lasting relationship with.
All the women I’d met through the app didn’t want me—the man and father. No, they wanted Eli Lansing, the ex-rock star and up-and-coming actor.
And when my eyes locked with Pru, a thunderbolt of pure lust ripped through me, and I didn’t stop to think twice. It was a chance to let loose and just feel, indulge. Do something I haven’t done in eons.
I’m too young to call it a midlife crisis, but I was reliving my youth. Reckless and greedy, I had one hell of a time without a care for the consequences.
That’s what’s at play here. That’s all that Pru is to me.
6
Pru
Why would you hold out on me?
I hightail it out of Eli’s trailer, not daring to look back. Lydia proffers another one of her dutiful smiles, and like a sprinter catapulting from the starting block, she’s off.
My heels click frantically as I struggle to keep up. Talking as fast as she can walk, she prattles on about schedules and lunch. My head is spinning. I’m stuck back with Eli, his touch, his gravelly voice, and those warm, inviting brown eyes.