And I was suddenly very aware that I wanted a repeat of the other day.
The kiss.
Our lips pressed together in a frenzy, the sliding of her bottom lip across my top as my tongue flicked away bits of chapstick.
“Zane.” Fallon coughed. “You’re doing it again.”
“Being weird?” I offered.
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“So, let’s just…clean up in here and we can finish the last two rooms, sound good?”
“Yup.”
“Is this helping your creative process Mr. Hollywood?”
I grabbed the trash bags and shrugged. “Not really, but I’m not by myself, so I guess that’s progress.”
“What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?”
I hesitated, unsure if I should be honest or just laugh it off.
“Zane…” Her voice was pleading, a bit unsure, but still pleading. And I hated lying to people when they were trying to be nice, human, good.
“I would be trying to write music. With the shades down. Naked.”
“Why naked?”
“Nothing good ever happens while clothed.” I winked.
But she didn’t buy it.
And that was my second mistake.
Giving her a truth followed by a lie.
Because now she knew my tell.
She knew what was fake and what was real.
Which meant I was no longer in the position where I could afford to be the liar…Did I mention that sometimes I hate my life?
Chapter Twelve
Fallon
I TOOK HIM EVERYWHERE.
And like a pubescent child, he was demanding and sometimes whiny. I made a mental note to bring marshmallows and some sort of sugary soda to keep him occupied while driving in the car.
“Money,” Zane blurted before I dropped him off at his house. “You need money.”
“What?”
“For school.” He did that nonchalant shrug thing. “Right? I mean you said your financial aid didn’t kick in right away, so what if, I pay you?”
“You do realize I was going to do it for free, right?”
“Gas costs money, and so does your time, not to mention the fact that I had to stop at least three times for food, and girls gotta eat too.” His eyes flashed. “Eating is important.”
“O…kay.” I tried not to frown, but he wasn’t making sense again. “So you want to pay for food.”
His hands started to shake, he quickly pulled at the door handle, but I grabbed his arm.
“Hey,” My fingers dug in, keeping him in place. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m always okay.” He flashed me a fake celebrity smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well for one, you’re shaking. Then again, I’d be shaking too if I consumed that much sugar within a twenty-four hour period. But you just…something seems wrong.”
He jerked his arm away. “I need to pay you.”
“What is with this obsession to pay me? I don’t want your money!”
“But it’s necessary.”
“Why?” I threw my hands in the air. “And why are we fighting about this?”
“Shit.” He leaned against the seat of the car and dropped a couple of f-bombs that had my eyes widening with a mixture of shock and horror. Had I seriously pissed him off that bad? “If I pay you, this stays business, alright?”
Confused, I pushed further. “So you need me to be more professional? Is that it?”
“God save me from ignorant women.”
“Hey!”
He swallowed my next sentence, quite literally, with the cheerful help of his tongue as he slid it past my lips. Hands dug into my hair as he tilted his head, his mouth pressing against mine in a different angle that I felt all the way down to my toes.
He kissed like he sang.
With smooth wicked strokes that had me wondering how any guy would ever compare.
I leaned into him; our chests just barely grazed one another as his lips slid against mine over and over again, like he was enjoying the feeling of them touching more than the actual kiss itself, like he wanted to memorize the exact feel.
With a jerk, he pulled away. Bright blue eyes locked on mine. “I have to pay you.” His voice was deliciously raspy. “Paying you makes this your job. Kissing you makes you equal parts boss and employee. I can’t kiss someone I work with. It’s against the rules.”
“What rules?”
“Every rule.” His eyes were desperate. “So, I pay you. And we go from you doing me a favor to mutually benefitting from our business endeavor.”
“And then we go our separate ways,” I added, trying to figure out why my heart sank a little, and why I wanted him to kiss me again.
“Absolutely.” His smile was back. “Except, I’ve always had a hard time following the rules, so I’m going to kiss you again…”
“But you just said—”
His mouth covered mine. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was punishing, like he’d gone from wanting to coax it out of me to demanding I kiss him back, forcing me to press against his chest in a way to gain leverage between our bodies.
He broke away. “I’ve always been horrible with authority.”
“In this case you’re your own authority.”
“Damn it.” He winked. “Sorry, I just…” He cursed under his breath. “Know that I completely agree that this sounds insane, but can I kiss you again?”
“You are seriously the most confusing and irritating person I’ve ever met.”
“You forgot sexy.”
“On purpose.” I shoved his chest. “Because you know you’re like a walking sex toy.”
He burst out laughing. “I like it.”
“You would.”
“I’m writing a song right now.”
“I know.” I shook my head. “Zane, are you on drugs? I was with you all day. You’ve been trying to write the same song all day, with that same sentence. Heck, I could probably write that song better than you.”
“Can’t seem to walk away when you look at me like you want me to stay.” He sang smoothly. “Tell me you mean it when your eyes beg for more. You lie with your words, your body sings the truth, I know you want it as much as I do—” His mouth curved into a smile as his lips brushed a kiss across mine. “You know nobody can make you feel the way I do….”
I was shaking.
He was dangerous.
The type of dangerous that invites itself into your house before you have a chance to say no, then starts rummaging through your fridge and asking if you want pasta for dinner.
He was sneaky dangerous.
“That was great.” I said a little breathless. “Maybe add in a few more words and you’ll have a whole song.”
He nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Letting me kiss you.”
“Pretty sure that’s my line.”
“Pretty sure it’s not.” He kissed my forehead, hesitated, and for one brief second, I figured he’d kiss me again. Instead, he pulled back, all business, and stated in a gruff voice. “Yeah, I’m paying you.”
And that dear friends.
Was how I helped Zane Andrews write his first hit in two years.
I just didn’t know.
Really, how could I know?
That it wasn’t about kissing at all.
It never was.
Chapter Thirteen
Fallon
I REGRETTED GIVING HIM my number almost immediately. Apparently, Dominoes was getting angry that he kept calling them and asking them to approve of lyrics.
So finally, three days after we started our weird partnership.
Three days after the purposeful kiss.
We were back to being whatever we were to begin with, the awkward girl and the pop star.
We spent afternoons together walking on the beach, going to the aquarium, and eating.
&n
bsp; Zane loved eating.
But he refused to eat anything without first savoring a few marshmallows, and when I asked him about it, he got so defensive I dropped the subject for fear he was going to be the celebrity that threw his drink in my face and stalked off.
Mags still begged for information.
But I was a vault.
That, and I didn’t really know what to tell her.
It was kind of…not embarrassing? I don’t know what it was, I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Maybe it was my pride, because explaining to her that he was paying me to be like a paid companion just sounded wrong.
He always wanted me to walk in front of him in crowds.
And sometimes he refused to even go into the grocery store because by the looks of the parking lot it was a zoo. His words not mine.
It wasn’t until four days in when he texted me yet another audio sample of lyrics that I drove over to his house.
We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour, but he was driving me insane, and I wasn’t doing anything anyway, might as well not do anything together.
I knocked on his door and heard his muffled, ”Come in.”
The blinds were drawn, and a huge bag of marshmallows lay open on the counter. Big shock there.
“Zane?” I called, walking farther into the beach house, only to see Zane stretch his lean body up off the couch in perfect lion like fashion all before walking around and tossing a marshmallow at my face.
“Four eyes, you made it.”
I blinked.
And then closed my eyes. “You’re naked.”
“Why do people always state the obvious? Of course I’m naked. I was alone, why would I be wearing clothes?”
I covered my eyes, not trusting myself to just open them and take a peek at his impressive body. “Normal people wear clothes at all times!”
“Why are you yelling?”
“Because you’re naked!”
“You already said that. Here, have a marshmallow.” He pelted another one at my body and then another.
“That doesn’t change the fact”—I pulled my hands from my eyes, grabbed the two marshmallows, and chucked them at his head—“that you’re still naked!”
“What would your grandma say about that, I wonder?” Zane teased with a wink.
“She’d probably say your name was blasphemous.”
“Saint?” His eyebrows arched as he walked around the couch and wrapped a blanket around his hips. Thank God. “That’s not my choice of names, after um, hearing about my childhood…” He frowned then shrugged. “My agent thought it would be a good angle.”
“Did you grow up in the Catholic church or something?”
He barked out a laugh. “Or something.”
I managed a tiny breath and turned around, he might not be naked but most of his chest was on display for me to see, and it was impossible not to see all that glistening skin and muscle. “Sorry, I’m early. You wouldn’t stop texting me audio clips, and I figured this was easier.”
“It is.” He came up behind me. The blanket brushed against me, and I nearly passed out on the spot. His arm snaked around my body and plunged into the marshmallow bag. That same arm brushed mine as he tugged a few marshmallows out and chewed.
I knew he was chewing because he was that close. “So”—more chewing—“should we go to the bedroom?”
“You’re paying me. That would make me a prostitute.”
“Damn it, money exchanging hands really does change everything doesn’t it?” His body pressed closer. “Don’t worry, four eyes, I would never seduce you.”
I hated that he was blatantly stating the obvious. Of course he wouldn’t. He was Zane Andrews! And let’s not forget the fact that he didn’t practice safe sex.
“Good,” I lied. “Then by asking me to go into the bedroom I can only assume you need me to grab you clothes because you’re color blind, so lead the way and we’ll get to work.”
“Slave driver.” He slapped my ass and took off down the hallway, leaving me to follow.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smother him with a pillow or text a picture of my ass to everyone I knew and say something stupid like, “Zane Andrews just slapped me here. I’m never showering again!”
It was good.
His cocky, arrogant prick of an attitude.
It reminded me of who he was.
Which in turn reminded me of who I was.
A local Oregon girl just earning money for college.
Zane dropped the blanket.
I didn’t close my eyes this time.
He crossed his arms. “Well, the emperor can’t go out like this. I think we all know how that story ended. Find me some clothes you approve of, and we’ll go for a walk.”
Chapter Fourteen
Zane
IT WAS GETTING HARDER.
Everything was getting harder.
And I really meant everything.
Mentally.
And physically.
Ignoring the fact that every time I saw her, I felt my chest flutter like a damn girl—I looked forward to seeing her.
That was bad news.
She was bad news.
I was leaving, no chance in hell did I want to stay in Seaside for longer than I had to. Besides, it wasn’t like she was staying local anyway.
We made it to the beach in record time. I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly collided with a rock and just barely missed it by jumping down the rest of the way onto the sand.
“Easy ninja, you don’t want to break a leg before you start touring again,” Fallon said in a teasing tone.
God, I really needed her to stop talking right now.
Or, just. Ever.
I stayed away from girls for a reason—sure I was photographed numerous times with girls hanging all over me, and yeah I’d kissed hundreds of them, but they were never fans, they were never normal, they were actresses, models, girls who knew that by touching me, they’d suddenly book the next job they had lined up.
She was different.
She gained nothing by kissing me, and I gained nothing but a really uncomfortable twitch in my cock by kissing her.
No sex.
No sex.
No sex.
Yeah, I wondered how many times I needed to repeat that mantra over and over in my head before something snapped, and I jumped on the first girl who said hi to me.
It had never been a problem until now.
Until the kissing and the whole issue of me promising not to seduce her or touch her.
Maybe that was the issue. I knew I would be a complete jackass if I followed through, and the last thing I wanted was for her big doe eyes to get sad, and for that sadness to be caused because after twenty-three years of being celibate, I finally broke down, gave in.
It wasn’t like it was on purpose, my virginity.
It was more of how I was brought up.
Or rather, what I was surrounded with in foster care.
I shuddered at the thought while Fallon raced ahead of me toward the ocean. The waves crashed against the sand with significant force causing the little pieces to fly into the air. Wind whipped at my face while I zipped up my hoodie and watched.
The music had been coming for four days.
Four full days of nothing but feeling, feeling for the first time in two years. The only issue was her.
Every artist had his muse.
I’d found mine.
And wasn’t so sure I wanted to let her go.
And just like that, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Another text. I knew who it was from, I knew what he’d be asking, and I knew what my answer would be. Not yet. Because the album was just now getting to the point where it was turning into something that I was proud of, and I’d only written five songs. Typically, I went through close to a hundred before I picked the tracks I wanted. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to my agent.
Hell, he’d just love the spin she could make on a story about me using a
local girl as inspiration, I’d blink, and a TV crew would be down here documenting every single second of the day and somehow twisting it into a romance where I’m suddenly pining after the plain girl with glasses.
My cock twitched.
Damn it.
I was not pining after the cute girl.
And she was cute. I let out a pitiful groan as she skipped ahead, kicking sand at her own ass, and nearly tumbling into a damn seagull before making it to the water. At least she’d stopped being so uptight around me, I still wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing—the familiarity.
“Zane!” Fallon cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled my name at least three times before I finally acknowledged I’d heard her.
Damn it. I was going to hurt her.
I just knew it.
And just like that, more music crashed into my chest right along with the waves, and words, they came reckless and angry.
“You’re not very chatty today,” Fallon finally said once I reached her and we started walking along the beach. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were upset that I saw you naked and didn’t faint.”
“Hah.” I rolled my eyes. “Fainting has happened on occasion, but I figured you were made of stronger stuff, Fallon.”
Shit.
I said her name.
Shit, shit, shit.
Her smile wavered. Please don’t notice. “Yeah well…” She shrugged. “I’ve seen lots of naked men in my crazy life as a call girl.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said in a thankful exhale; happy she hadn’t fixated on the fact that I didn’t call her four eyes. “And how is the business these days?”
“Can’t complain, I’m gonna be a movie star one day you know, once I make enough money to move to Hollywood. Be my Richard Gere?”
“He has gray hair.”
“That’s your only reason for saying no?”
“I have nice hair.”
“You do.” She reached for my head and then jerked her hand back, her cheeks pinked as she stumbled forward. “Sorry.”
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