“Damn it!” He overfilled the cup and scalded his hand with hot liquid burning the skin. Dropping the cup, he shook his hand, but even in pain and aggravated over the mess he’d created, he couldn’t force from his mind the image of Anne, naked and on her knees. He could nearly see the soft expression in her gaze as she waited for his command to pleasure him.
“Oh God, do you need a medic?”
He turned back to Jordan, his cock so damn hard, and combined with the pain of the burn, he was barely coherent.
“No. I’m just going to go run it under cold water if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Help yourself.” She moved close and grabbed a towel from one of the cabinets beneath the marble counter. “I’ll clean this up while you soak.”
He turned on the faucet and put his burned hand under the cool stream of water, but his focus wasn’t there—it was still on Anne. He began composing a plan. His life was complicated, to put it mildly, and this was not a good time to start a new relationship. Still, he was there for the week with not much to do. Jake and Vaughn would spend much of the day perusing stalls at the convention, and though he’d agreed to tag along, it was doubtful they’d miss him. When it came to the music, he was definitely a third wheel with the two of them.
He shoved the thought from his mind. The schedule the three of them kept made it nearly impossible for them to get together, and he wanted to spend this time with them. Yet, he was plotting to ditch them both. His friends meant the world to him, but what Anne represented was rare. What stared him in the face now didn’t come around every corner. Even if he couldn’t take complete advantage, even if he couldn’t turn it into a long-term affair, he could make very memorable for both of them what little time he had to devote to her.
Drying off his hand, he decided it could use some aloe vera, but he’d live. He stepped back into the lounge where Jordan had already cleaned up the mess he had created.
“I’m sorry about making more work for you. My mind was clearly somewhere else.” He extended his good hand and used the smile he knew got the best reaction from women, the one with both dimples. “I didn’t get your name.”
He’d overheard it, but he thought it best to get it straight from her, his future ally. She took his hand and smiled coquettishly in return. “It’s Jordan.”
She was very different from Anne. He could see it in her eyes. This woman knew her way around a man’s body and bed. Vaughn would love her.
“Listen, do you know who Vaughn Taylor is?”
He saw her eyes go bright as she gasped with delight, and he knew he had her.
“Fuck yes! Damn he’s hawt. That last video of his…” She moaned like she was about to come then cleared her throat and smiled, changing her demeanor like she’d flipped a switch. “Yes, I know who he is.”
That was the usual reaction to his friend. At times he found it got annoying as hell, but not this time. For once, he planned to use their long-term friendship to his own advantage.
“Tell you what.” He moved over close and put his arm around her shoulder, bringing their heads together as he attempted to seek her assistance. “Anne comes back, you take a break. You come to 1428, and I’ll give you a personal invite to Vaughn. He’s there now, working on a song for his next album and driving me fucking crazy!”
Which was true. Vaughn was far too intense lately, and if Grey could get his friend laid, then it didn’t seem as bad as simply using him to get a shot at the woman he wanted.
Jordan narrowed her eyes as if clearly remembering the old adage about things that sound too good to be true.
“Look, you read the sleaze rags.” He motioned to the three on her desk. He instinctively knew they weren’t Anne’s. “I must be in them every fucking day. Have they ever once said anything about me being a psycho, a rapist, a murder suspect?”
She openly considered his words and pulled away from his hold. She moved back to the desk and slid the magazines around beneath her fingers. “No.” She turned and leveled a hard glare at him. “Just a womanizer, a drunk, and an addict.”
He felt the jab to his gut, but she was being a good friend, and he couldn’t fault her for that.
“Touché. But I’ll guarantee you I’m clean and sober. Ninth time at rehab was apparently the charm.” He smiled, hoping she’d get the joke at his own expense.
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, and he knew he was about to get blasted.
“Mmmm, indeed. Look, I do read the tabloids, and I watch the entertainment news, and I’m subscribed to TMZ online, and, Grey, I don’t buy for one second you’re a run-of-the-mill playboy.” Her eyes narrowed and shot fire daggers at him. “When was the last time you had a purely vanilla liaison? Because I guarantee you that’s what it would be with Anne.”
Even as she said the words, even as he accepted that she saw right through him, he wondered how right she was about Anne. He was dominant in the bedroom. He had his kinks. However, he was also very good at what he did, and he could spot submissive tendencies in a woman from fifty feet away. He’d been a whole hell of a lot closer than that to Anne.
He’d been close enough to inhale her soft scent of lavender and jasmine overlaying another totally different scent of spices and amber. It had been nearly as alluring as the woman herself. He’d been close enough to see the outline of a garter belt beneath the gray uniform skirt as she moved, and the sheer, black stockings they connected to had been silk. Whatever that woman was, she wasn’t a prude, and he desperately wanted to be the one to show her that.
“I have my kinks, but I don’t force women into my bed—or my kinks, for that matter.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and met her hard stare with one of his own. He knew the only way to Anne was through the best friend, and he’d be damned if the woman was going to get the better of him.
“Anne’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever known, and as much as I think the girl definitely needs to get her freak on, she’s absolutely no match for someone like you. You don’t know her history. I do. No. No. No. It’s a blatantly bad idea.”
“Maybe she should be the one to decide that.”
She faltered for a second, and he thought he’d won, but then she denied him.
“Nope.” She stood straight and took a step toward him. “As much as I’d love to see how yummy Vaughn Taylor is in person, I just don’t feel right about leaving Anne to the wolf like some sacrificial Red Riding Hood.”
She gestured to him by moving her hand up and down in the air in front of him as if he were a refrigerator on The Price is Right and she one of Barker’s Beauties.
“Ouch. That one hurt.” Although, his cock jerked at the vision his mind supplied of Anne in lacy red lingerie beneath a long red cape. He’d known his past would come back to haunt him someday, just never that it would actually prevent him from getting close to a woman. It usually had the opposite effect.
“And what of Brittany? That bitch doesn’t seem to have her hooks entirely out of you as far as I can see. Anne deserves someone who has his baggage at least tied down properly, and yours is kinda psycho if you ask me.”
His gut twisted at the thought of Brittany ever being near Anne.
“Brittany has nothing to do with this. She and Anne won’t ever even be in the same county together, let alone the same room.”
He didn’t know why it pissed him off so much that she’d brought up Brittany. Their relationship was public knowledge and something he dealt with daily, but it was also public knowledge that it was over, and he didn’t want Jordan throwing that particular mistake in his face.
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t help it, Grey. I just don’t trust you.”
He became more determined than ever to get this woman’s approval. Though he had no idea why it was so important, simply in that moment, he knew it was necessary.
“What do you want from me, Jordan? Blood? My first born? A part in my next picture? I’m not asking for Anne’s hand in marriage, just perhaps th
e opportunity to have coffee. Your reaction seems a bit over the top, don’t you think?”
She seemed to struggle with that, and he was glad. She had him off balance, and that was usually his role.
“Am I wrong? You like to tie women up and make them beg, do you not?”
“I’m never cruel. I’m always certain to assure the well-being of any woman I take to my bed, but aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?”
He watched the struggle go on within her. The entire exchange intrigued him, because on the surface this conversation seemed utterly ridiculous. He stood there seeking the approval of this woman to simply talk to a coworker. They both seemed to recognize the undercurrent, however, and she wasn’t wrong about anything she had said. Maybe that was one of the reasons her approval mattered to him. So few people ever really saw him. They only saw Grey Hendrix, movie star, Hollywood elite. Rarely did anyone see Grey Hendrix the man—even most of the women he took to his bed failed to see him as a person.
Her mouth opened twice but closed without uttering a single word. He almost laughed.
“Look, I’m well aware of my reputation. I’ve been the bad boy of Hollywood almost since the day I broke on the scene twelve years ago. Still, what the tabloids—and pretty much everyone else—fail to recognize is A—I only play with willing women. And B—I actually take my craft seriously. Now you may think that has nothing to do with this, but I’ve worked my ass off for the roles, awards, and accolades I’ve collected. In addition, despite the tabloid record, I never blew one role over my addiction, even when it was at its worst. I’ve never worked in any other condition than sober. On top of all that, I’m a damn-good father. In other words, I have the ability to be a stand-up guy when the occasion calls for it, and I understand that with Anne, it most assuredly would. I’m not the playboy you think I am, Jordan…” He shrugged. “Not anymore, at least.”
Even though this wasn’t the right time for it, he wanted something deeper than what he’d found before, either in the endless train of one-night stands or in the few relationships he’d tried. Something about Anne’s diatribe had kicked him in the gut and made him think she could be it. His desires were changing. Not entirely, he reminded himself. He imagined he’d always have the deep desire to dominate a willing woman in the bedroom, but he found himself craving something more these days than faceless encounters in the most exclusive sex clubs the city had to offer—where he’d gone to hide after the mess with Brittany had blown sky-high.
Something about what Anne stated she wanted lit a flame inside him. Even though he couldn’t claim her for himself, he wanted to be the one to give her what she sought, because instinctively, he knew he could. It was really as simple as that.
“It is what it is. I’ve been who I’ve been. But I’m not looking to hurt Anne, not even looking to fuck her.” He cringed as he knowingly lied to her, and then wondered why.
He looked over his shoulder in the direction Anne had gone. He still felt her presence in the room.
“Honestly, I just found her intriguing, and I want to know a little more. Maybe I’m just bored. Maybe I just want a distraction from Vaughn’s constant moaning over this song. Maybe I think she’s cute, and I haven’t had a real conversation with a woman since…”
God, he couldn’t actually remember. Had it been that long since he’d had a submissive? Had Brittany been the last…He refused to look at it any deeper.
“I’m not taking her out of the hotel. You come to my room. I’ll come down here, and you’re free to come back and check on us, ‘Mom,’ but let Anne decide for herself if she wants more from me or not.”
She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin, hard line. He almost laughed.
“I guess, maybe…”
“That’s my girl.” He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted anything so much as having Jordan agree to this ridiculous ninth-grade mentality.
Of course, the wanting was undeniable, but as it was with almost everything, what was really going on here had very little to do with the words actually being exchanged. As he was a master at reading signals and undercurrent, the truth wasn’t lost on him. He was simply trying to ignore it.
“Fine. But you better get your ass out of here then, because she won’t be gone much longer.”
He grabbed her up by the shoulders and placed a big kiss on her cheek.
“I owe you!”
“That’s all right, Vaughn can repay your debt…and you can tell him that, too!”
He laughed, feeling alive in a way he hadn’t since giving up the hard substances. He turned and headed back to his room, his mind full of thoughts of Anne and his mouth watering for the taste of her skin.
* * * *
Anne felt ridiculous about her outburst and especially about yelling at a man she’d just last night pictured between her thighs while she worked the pair of vibrators until she’d exploded then curled up with her pillow, wishing it returned some of the warmth she shared with it. It didn’t matter. Actors, rock stars, models, they were all just fantasy fodder. It was their sole purpose in life, right? They weren’t ever supposed to show up in your real life and spoil all your best fantasies! She was only glad she never had to see him again, because facing Jordan was going to be hard enough without even considering facing Grey Hendrix.
“Good God.” A wave of desire swept her just at the thought of his name. Her desires rarely hung out so close to the surface, and she didn’t like that they were trying to push through now. She pressed a hand to her stomach, drew a deep breath, and tried to put a fake smile on her face as she strolled back into the lounge. “Sorry I ditched you. Sorry I flipped out. Sorry I…Oh just sorry.”
Jordan looked up from the magazines. Anne covertly scanned the lounge and shocked herself by how disappointed she felt that he was actually gone. After all, what had she expected? That based on her insanity-induced outburst he had decided she was his soul mate and had been waiting for her to come back so he could propose with an eight-carat rock he conveniently carried around in his pocket for just such an occasion?
“No worries.” Jordan stood and stretched, pushing her hands all the way up over her head. “You okay? You wanna talk?”
“Not really.”
Jordan nodded as if she understood, but really, how could she?
“Mind if I go on break then?”
While slightly distressed by that request, she knew she had no ground to refuse her after what she’d just done. She put on her Sunday-school face and answered with a polite, “No, of course not.”
The ever-present loneliness swirled in as soon as Jordan left. She wondered if she were just broken somehow, if she simply wasn’t wired to feel any other way but lonely, because she couldn’t remember a time in her life when she hadn’t. She took the chair behind the desk and sat down. Not having the appetite to fuss over the state of the lounge, she flipped through Jordan’s magazines.
“Jen and Angelina… This time it’s really war.”
She pulled out the second one and skimmed the cover.
“Kim K. in rehab, collapses from wedding-hoax aftermath. Lady Gaga hospitalized for sex addiction…Who believes any of this nonsense?” She laughed and pushed the second one aside, but the third wasn’t so easy to dismiss.
She took her finger and traced his features. The photo was taken of him with two women on a beach in France…or so the story read. He looked really good without a shirt. She smiled secretively to herself. Or without shoes.
She was probably already awash in the sea of blondes slurping against the sides of his memories, but once the humiliation of the event dimmed, she imagined it would be a memory she’d hold onto. Selectively of course. There was really nothing to be embarrassed over, really. It was one moment in time, and it wasn’t like he’d ever remember her.
She sighed, wondering if she were simply braver what her life might be. If she was more like Jordan, she’d probably find his room number and show up on his doorstep in a leather teddy,
with a flogger. Yeah, she’d read enough about Grey to pick up on the fact that his tastes didn’t run average in the department of sex, and on moments when she was positively honest with herself, that was part of the appeal for her, part of the fantasy. She wanted to know what he knew. The deeper parts of her clawed for the answers she knew she’d never get. It was depressing.
“I promise not to eavesdrop and not to hold your prudish behavior of earlier against you if you promise not to storm out this time. Or throw anything at me. I often find women wanting to throw things at my head, though I have no idea why.” He smiled and winked, and she melted where she sat.
Her mouth hung open as she tried to suck in air, but no words formed in her brain. He held up a cup. “Just back for another refill.”
He made his way to the coffeepot, and while his back was to her, she shoved the three tabloids into the desk drawer and smacked herself on the forehead a few times, hoping to regain her senses. When he turned around, she stopped and pushed a smile across her face.
“Sure. Anytime.” He gave her a funny look, so she added, “The coffee,” and tried again to smile, but she was feeling nauseous at this point.
He leaned back against the row of marble-topped counters where they served the afternoon appetizers and drinks during the lounge’s happy hour. He folded his arms across that worn tee, crossed his one foot over the other—they were still bare—and brought the mug up to his gorgeous lips, all the while staring at her as if he could see straight through her and knew every one of her secrets.
Then again, she really only had one secret, and he had pretty much heard it, so the look wasn’t really that much of a stretch.
“You puzzle me.”
Her eyes grew wide. “I do?”
He took a long sip then nodded. “You do.”
She began to chew on her lip and wiggle her toes inside her shoes. She wanted to somehow get out from under that pervasive stare, but on the other hand, there was no place else she’d rather be. She’d seen that look in countless movies and had always wanted to see it in person. This was her chance, only it didn’t feel quite as warm and gooey as it had on the big screen. It felt more like being stripped naked and strapped to a lamp post in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
Lucas, Samantha - The Seduction of Anne Ruby [The Seduction 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 3