7 Dirty Lies: a Tease Novel

by Alexis Anne

  He kissed my cheek and reached around me to start opening the case. “If you won’t open it.”

  I batted his hands away. “I’ve got it.”

  “Good.” He kissed me behind my ear as he settled his hands on my hips, his front to my back.

  I flipped the latches and lifted the lid. Sitting in a perfectly molded foam casing was a shining gold Oscar.

  My heart stopped.

  “What is this?” I knew what it was.

  “Pick it up.”

  So with shaking hands, I lifted the heavy gold statuette.

  Engraved across the bottom: Vivian Hope

  I burst into tears and clutched it to my chest. Colt’s arms came around me, holding me as the sobs shook my body. “Thank you.”

  “I’m having a little trouble telling if you like it,” he laughed.

  I spun in his arms. “It’s the best thing anyone has ever given me. How did you get it?”

  He took the statue and set it on the counter behind me, then adjusted it before wrapping me back up in his warmth. “When you told me about your parents selling the Oscars I had someone track them down. A couple of weeks ago I made an offer on the two who were interested in selling. They accepted.”

  “And Liz is getting the other?” He was the sweetest man on the planet.

  “She should have it today as well.”

  I burst into tears again. This was . . . well it was everything. The past, the good parts of my family, the things I wanted for myself. All of it was wrapped up in this gift from the man I loved.

  “And,” he lifted my chin, planting a kiss against my lips. “I can’t wait to put yours beside it in our home.”

  Yeah, that brought on more tears. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you believe that will happen one day.”

  Colt called me an optimist, but all that hopeful wishing and carrying-on gets overshadowed by doubts when you’re called untalented and criticized for years.

  “Oh it will happen. I’m calling it now. You’ll have two at least. One for acting and one for Best Original Screenplay.” He kissed me again. “I believe in you, Lily.”

  I held him tight because there was no way this was real. It had to be a dream. “Thank you.”

  “Always.”

  Then he dried my tears. “You should probably put her away. Wouldn’t want something to happen to her.” He turned me.

  And as I reached for it, I realized something was different. Sitting on top of the hands was a ring.

  A diamond ring.

  Just as I picked it up I felt movement at my back, and when I turned I found Colt down on one knee. “Spend forever with me.” He took the ring and put it on my finger.

  I tackled him to the ground, my heart racing, my head spinning. It was too much too fast, and not nearly quick enough. “Yes!” I straddled him as I kissed him. “Yes, yes, yes. Together forever.”

  “Tied up together?”

  Well, if he wanted to make suggestions . . . I untied my sarong. “Tied up together forever.” And then I tied his hands above his head. “We should celebrate.”

  “Okay. You’ll get no arguments from me.” He bounced his hips suggestively. “But since someone has immobilized me, I’ll need help with my pants.”

  “I might be able to help with that.” In the most torturous way possible, of course.

  Not that Colt seemed to mind in the least. No, I’d say he quite enjoyed the slow removal of his swim trunks as I bit along his hipbone and skirted around—but not touching—his cock.

  He enjoyed the way I licked along his length, swirled around his head. He certainly didn’t seem upset as I used my hands and tongue to explore every inch of his body, finding the spots I knew drove him wild, and exploring new ones to tantalize.

  But when I straddled him? That’s when his resolve snapped.

  “That’s quite enough of that.” He sat up so that we were nose to nose. “I want to touch you.” He held his hands out and waited with a dark smoldering gaze as I unwrapped his wrists.

  From there things went very, very slowly.

  As in, he skirted his hands over my collarbones and around to my back where he just barely held me as I positioned him at my entrance. He didn’t move but our eyes stayed locked as I rose and fell, taking his first inch inside me.

  The room was silent except for our excited breaths, the waves outside a distant, dim noise filling the background.

  He surged up and I gasped as he stretched me wide for him. His hands smoothed down to the small of my back, touching but not holding. He held perfectly still while I slid my hands up his strong chest, over the ridge of his capable shoulders, and around his neck to his hair, where I grabbed on.

  His eyes sparkled. “Oh it’s like this is it?”

  I tugged and the muscles of his neck flexed. “Just a little.”

  In return he moved his hands to my hips and lifted me to his tip. “You’re sure you want to play at that game?”

  When did I not? I loved a little sting to go with my pleasure. “I like riding my cowboys rough.”

  “Oh you’re going to be so good for me.” He pulled me down at the same time he surged up, slamming home. I arched back, fisting his hair as I cried out. His sudden invasion deep and wide, overwhelming to the brink of mind numbing.

  “Slow or fast, babe?”

  I rose up and sank down several times, lubricating his cock with my arousal. He ran his tongue up the column of my neck, his breath hot as he reached my ear. “I’ll ask again. Slow? Or fast?”

  The time for slow and careful was over. Outside in the real world, and inside where we worked out our feelings. I wanted it all hard and fast from now on. “Fast.”

  “That’s right,” he growled, his eyes lighting up as he sat up a little straighter, his arms wrapping around me and up my spine. “Just the way we like it.”

  I was on top but no longer in control as Colt lifted me and pulled me, using my body to pleasure us both. I followed his subtle commands as his fingers urged me on. The air filled with the sounds of our lovemaking and, finally, the cries of our orgasms.

  * * *

  “TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT NOW.” It was dawn. The early light was beginning to light the room in a soft glow, the wind blowing across our naked bodies.

  “You’re already inside me, I don’t think I have much to say.”

  He grunted as he splayed a hand across my belly. “You always have a say, babe. Except for how I wake you up.”

  I laughed and then gasped as his cock moved inside me. Colt had woken me on our last day at The Westerly with his hand on my clit and his cock sliding against my sex, begging for permission to enter.

  I, of course, granted that permission and was now twenty minutes into a slow morning lovemaking session with my fiancé. Colt rarely chose to take me from behind since he preferred to see me, so today was an interesting change of pace. When he wanted me from behind it was usually on my knees. On our sides, his body wrapped around mine, was much sweeter somehow.

  Maybe he didn’t need to see what he knew. I loved him. I was his.

  He was mine.

  “Would you like this?” he whispered against my ear.

  I arched backward as he caressed my breast and ran a thumb over the tip of my nipple. “Mmm. I like your hands on me.”

  “Oh, then I could probably touch you here, too?” There was a teasing, light tone to his voice.

  He was happy.

  Very happy as he ran his hand down my side and over my hip. “Perhaps here?”

  From there he took his time exploring each and every inch he could reach while staying inside me, rocking slowly, and occasionally thrusting deep. “I love hearing your soft whimpers, babe. I love knowing I make you feel good.”

  I reached a hand back so I could touch him. We were connected from head to toe, but I somehow still needed more. “You make me feel so good.”

  “And,” his fingers thrust in and out of me, then skated along the sensitive ridge of skin near my
clit. “I love you.” He thrust deep and hard.

  I saw stars as pleasure detonated in my core and burst outward like fireworks. “Yes.”

  He gripped my hip and began taking me hard. Faster. His body slamming into mine over and over. Our orgasms building quickly. “Come, Lily. I want to feel you come.”

  I was so close.

  “Harder, Colt.”

  He grunted and bit down on my shoulder, his hips jerking as his orgasm took hold, the intensity triggering my own orgasm.

  “Oh god, I’m coming. Don’t stop.” With a laugh of joy and a sigh of relief he stroked into me several more times, letting me ride the wave of flutters that clamped hard around his dick.

  When my muscles finally relaxed I cried out in relief. “Good morning!” Then I turned just enough to kiss Colt on the nose. “Thank you.”

  He reached up and grasped my chin, holding me in place as he stared into my eyes with a promise. “I’ll never stop. Never stop loving you and never stop fucking you.” He tilted his hips to drive that point home. “I’ll keep you happy no matter what it takes.”

  “I know, Colt,” I whispered. “I know because I feel the same way.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three years later . . .

  My nerves were through the roof as I took Colt’s hand. The crowd erupted in cheers, which only multiplied the butterflies in my stomach. Maybe not butterflies. This thing happening in my gut was way too harsh for beautiful butterflies. It was more like dinosaurs fighting.

  “Breathe, babe,” he said as he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and began guiding me down the red carpet. “Remember, you don’t need this. You already won one.”

  As if that mattered! Sure enough I got my nomination and win for The Price of Love. We became the center of a media firestorm as people got hold of the “story behind the story.” The idea that I played Colt’s mother and we fell in love on the set of filming his family saga, while writing the movie that told the tale of our story?

  Crack. Tabloid crack.

  But it was great for the movies. The Price of Love won four statues that night and had since gone on to become a classic love story for the ages. And of course all of that only made everyone insane to see The Poetry of Love. (Yes, Ted insisted on the names being similar for marketing purposes.) I didn’t complain because it was accurate and had helped make the movie a critical and box office success.

  Which was why I was here, walking the red carpet at the Academy Awards for a second time. The Poetry of Love was nominated for everything, including Best Original Screenplay, and I wanted to vomit. It was so much to have on my shoulders. I wanted my cast to win. I wanted Ted to win. I wanted my director and cinematographer—who was a genius I might add—to win. It was like having twenty-five babies on their birthday but not everyone was getting cake.

  And then my ankle turned. Not badly, but enough. “Crap.”

  “What?” Colt was instantly on alert.

  “My shoe. It’s not tight enough. It’s sliding around and I can’t walk steadily.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Babe. I got it.” And then he was on his knees, lifting my full-length sapphire blue skirt. “If you would?”

  I held up the skirt and watched as he moved with deft skill to tighten the strap around my ankle. When the click of the cameras turned into a crazy firestorm of clicking I realized this must be quite the sight: me in my gown, Colt in his tux on his knees, fixing my shoe. It was like Cinderella, Hollywood style.

  He must have noticed the change around us too, because he ran his thumb over my ankle and gave it a comforting squeeze, then stood up, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, and pulled me to him for a soft kiss. Just soft enough to leave my makeup intact, but just passionate enough to show me—and everyone else—just how much he loved me.

  Then he smiled without pulling away and whispered, “You are beautiful, you are brilliant, and you’ve got this.” He waited until I met his gaze and gave him a nod. Then he released me and tucked my hand back into his arm.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as we kept walking.

  “Always.”

  Of course all anyone could talk about as we met with each reporter was our love story, and then they wanted to know if my shoe was okay. “Is he real?” One reporter asked.

  “Oh he’s real. Just remember, he’s also all mine.” I winked to lighten the mood, but I really wasn’t light. I was now looking at every woman drooling over my man and considering hiding him at home for the rest of his life.

  “What will tomorrow look like if you win tonight?” Another reporter named Sandy asked.

  Oh, I’m getting married tomorrow. “I’m sure we’ll sleep in and have breakfast in bed.”

  “Will you have both Oscars in bed with you?” she laughed.

  Colt answered. “All three actually. We have her grandmother’s as well and we wouldn’t want to leave Vivian out of the fun.”

  The two Oscars were currently serving as the world’s best bookends on the world’s best poetry collection. I guess that meant I needed to win one more to make two complete sets.

  “What a dynasty,” the reporter continued. “What do you think your grandmother would say about having another Academy Award winner in the family?”

  I’d felt her so many times over the years. I still believed she was there pushing me toward Colt. I felt her echoes at the ranch and knew she’d have loved it there. “I think she’d say it runs in the family.”

  I don’t know how I would have gotten through the night if Colt weren’t there. He sat beside me cool as a cucumber. He held my hand and kissed me whenever my nerves got too crazy.

  Kisses were really good for calming me down.

  My version of Ted won Best Supporting Actor, so did my brilliant cinematographer. It was good news heading into my category, but I couldn’t help thinking the other nominees were just as deserving. I wanted to win because . . . well, I wanted to win! But it would also be so perfect to know our love story won an award on the weekend of our wedding. Maybe I just believed in poetic things like that.

  “And the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay goes to . . . ”

  Those two seconds were the longest two seconds of my life. In the blink of an eye I was able to feel the squeeze of Colt’s hand, to hear the beat of my own heart and know that I was exactly where I was meant to be whether I won or not, that anticipation was a drug I fed off of even if it did make me crazy.

  “Lily Lawrence for The Poetry of Love.” I froze, fairly certain I had inserted what I wanted to hear instead of what was actually being said.

  But Colt grabbed me and kissed me. And then he leapt to his feet with a huge smile, pulling me up with him. “You won, babe! You won!”

  I blinked several times.

  No talent.

  I sucked for air.

  Attention whore.

  I grabbed Colt’s hand and looked for confirmation in his steady gaze. He cupped my face. “You really won. Now go.”

  The music from our movie was playing and the crowd clapped enthusiastically as I made my way to the stage. It wasn’t far. Colt and I were good television so they’d placed us close to the stage.

  And then Alice Anders, one of my idols and the woman who’d won this award last year, was smiling and placing that heavy gold statue in my hands.

  Holy shit.

  Now I had to speak.

  “You know for someone who just won an award for her words, I don’t have many right now.” The applause was replaced by a lot of laugher, which helped settle my nerves. “I believe the universe is held together by threads. Sometimes they’re tight and easy to follow, but other times they get loose. They blow in the wind. They take you on a crazy journey. When I was a child all I wanted was to be up here just like my grandmother because she lived her work and, to me, that was the very essence of what I wanted to be. But my thread was loose and it took me on an amazing journey. A journey that gave me the story I wrote in The Poetry of Love. I want
to thank the Academy for this great honor.” I got choked up there and had to sniff it away so I could finish because the next part was also important.

  “I need to thank Ted Lowe for his constant friendship and taking a chance on a no-good, untalented actress who was a bad bet. That chance was all I needed. I worked hard and that work led me to my fiancé, Colt, to this story, and today to stand here and accept this award. If anyone out there has a story inside them they need to tell, I want you to remember this: you are not a bad bet. If someone gives you the chance, take it. Work hard, make your art, and follow your thread.”

  Everyone cheered and they started playing the music, but I wasn’t done so I refused to move. I waved everyone down and they thankfully lowered the music.

  “And finally,” I smiled. “My thanks to my sister Elizabeth for sheltering me, her husband Adam for loving us, to my entire cast and crew for working harder than anyone else in the business because you love telling stories as much as I do, and to my love, Colt.” I held up the statue. “What do you say we celebrate with a wedding? Maybe tomorrow?”

  * * *

  “HE’S PACING OUTSIDE,” Charley giggled, William, their son and my ring bearer, in her arms.

  “Well he can pace until he wears a hole in the carpet.” Except Grayson would have a fit over that. “What does he want?”

  She giggled again. “I think he just wants a kiss.”

  Unlikely. Knowing Colt he wanted something else. “The ceremony is in twenty minutes. He gets a kiss at the end, in case he’s forgotten.”

  Evangeline, my beautiful flower girl, tugged on my hand, her long dark curls bouncing. “When do you put on your dress?”

  “Now.” And that’s when I realized why Colt was there. He wanted to put it on.

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to go all big sister on him?”

  “Could you go see what he wants? For real?” I shot Charley a dubious look.

  “What? He doesn’t listen to me.”

  “Oh, he’ll listen to me,” Elizabeth muttered as she slipped out the door. She’d flown in before the awards ceremony to help get everything ready. Adam and my Uncle Oliver flew in yesterday.