by Wendi Zwaduk
“I didn’t want lines under the silk.” She wobbled forward and collapsed on top of him. The teardrop pendant glittered against her skin.
The passion he felt for her bubbled over and love filled his brain. She was everything he’d ever wanted and a few things he hadn’t realized he needed. He eased his finger from her pussy then rolled her onto her back. He scrambled to his feet and paused a moment. Fuck. Molly looked so appealing and beautiful. She might not see her attractiveness, but he sure did.
Austin couldn’t get into her fast enough. He loosened his necktie and eased the silk from around his collar. He opened the buttons on his shirt as fast as he could without popping the little plastic discs from it. He owned the tux but he didn’t want to ruin it. He shrugged out of the shirt and yanked his undershirt up over his head.
“I can help.” Molly sat up and eased the pins from her hair. Her dark tresses spilled over her shoulders as she moved forward on the bed. She grasped the front of his pants. “I’ve always wanted to strip a man in a tux.”
Austin groaned. “You’re doing a good job.” He stood still as she freed the hook holding the front of his pants closed. The soft article of clothing dropped to his ankles. “I see you did wear underwear.”
“I wanted to give you more to unwrap.” He eased his fingers beneath the waistband of the boxers and shoved them down his legs. He kicked out of the balled-up clothing then scooped her into his arms. He sat on the bed with her on his lap. “Ride me.”
“Anytime.” She draped her arms around his neck and scooted forward. She closed her eyes as she sank onto his erection. Her nipples grazed his chest and her warm breath fanned over his skin.
He grasped her hips. Holy shit. He’d dreamed of this moment and fantasized about how the day would go but he’d never expected to be in Las Vegas and married to Molly.
“More.” She kissed him then bit his bottom lip. “Austin.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want.” He rolled her onto her back again and pinned her to the bed. Being inside her, skin on skin, pleased him. He surged in and out of her pussy, filling her to the brim before pulling out. Each thrust pushed him closer to orgasm and reinforced his love for her.
Molly dug her nails into his shoulders and arched her back. She met him thrust for thrust. “Damn.” She writhed, twisting her hips and adding a new dimension to the act. “Austin. Oh, my God.”
“Yeah.” He spread his knees for better leverage. “My baby.” He folded her legs up, sending his cock deeper into her heat. When she whimpered, she spurred him on. He tilted his head back and pistoned his hips. The climax came on strong and fast. Fucking balls. He gritted his teeth then forced himself to look her in the eye. He focused on her gaze and rocked his hips.
“Austin.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and her lips parted. She tensed beneath him. “Austin.” She whimpered his name and shattered his restraint.
Austin bore down on her and thrust his hips with abandon. Heat filled his body and he couldn’t pull her tightly enough to him. His balls ached as he curled forward and came. Everything within him trembled.
Molly closed her eyes and sighed. She relaxed. She rested her head on the sheets and her legs went slack. A giggle erupted from her.
Austin pumped his torso, working through the orgasm and the trembling. His cock throbbed and his back ached a little from tensing, but he didn’t care. He braced himself on his hands and knees and rested his forehead on hers.
“Mr. Dean.” She opened her eyes and brushed her mouth against his lips. “Congratulations.”
“Mrs. Dean.” He loved the way that sounded. He’d belonged to her the whole time and now everything was official. He smoothed the loose locks of her hair away from her face. “My wife.”
“It still feels like a dream,” she said. “You’re supposed to be a mistake or a fling. I never thought…we’d be here.”
“I hoped we would, but I knew me.” He grinned and toyed with a few strands of her hair. “No regrets?”
“None.”
“Good.” He eased out of her pussy and collapsed beside her then rolled her onto her side to face him. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.” She flopped over and spooned against him then dragged the comforter over their bodies. Molly sighed and her breathing evened out.
Sleeping? Already? Part of him wanted to keep her awake but only for selfish reasons. He wanted to gaze into her eyes and kiss her. The rest of him allowed her to rest. They’d both had a long day and they had the rest of their lives to be together.
He sighed and draped his arm across her side and belly. He should’ve known his heart belonged to her. Should’ve realized long ago that she was meant to be his wife. But that was all in the past. What mattered was she’d married him and loved him. She might have thought being with him was a mistake. But if the relationship initially had been a mistake then she was his favorite of them all and now he never had to let her go.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Her Man
Wendi Zwaduk
Excerpt
Chapter One
Trouble. That’s what most women were—too much trouble! When Logan Malone’s last movie had ended, so had his love life. He’d decided women weren’t worth the effort—not right now.
Well, no, that wasn’t the case—not entirely. Red-hot American blood still charged through his veins and he needed a woman, someone soft in all the right places, tough as nails and unafraid to fight to warm his bed. Why not go for totally impossible?
Logan shifted in his seat. The olive-colored plastic creaked and scratched against the ceramic tile floor. The other three men in the drafty room glared as though he’d ruined their concentration.
“Quiet,” the blond man to his right growled.
“Sorry,” Logan muttered. He caressed the worn cover of the book jacket as he convinced himself he could play the romantic lead better than the rest of the competition sitting in the drab hallway. Who else could embody the sexy, romantic boy-next-door role better than Romeo Malone, the hunk of the silver screen? He smiled, but quickly lost faith. He faced the biggest roadblock of his career—convincing the directors, producer and author that he was the man for the job. Yeah, another impossible task.
He sighed. Was he the man? Logan took a deep breath to relax before another glance at his competition. Mark Lanigan stood hunched in the corner with his index finger in his ear as he spoke on his cell phone. Shit.
Logan flexed his jaw and turned away. His heart dropped to his stomach with a sickening thud. Mark Lanigan wasn’t a slouch in the looks department. His baby blues melted even the iciest of hearts with ease. Romance publishers begged for his services as a cover model and Mark had the honor of being selected the ‘Sexiest Man of the Decade’ according to Delish magazine. Last year the man had won an award for his performance of a baseball phenom in love with a farmer’s daughter in Flowers in the Outfield.
Logan ground his teeth. He should’ve had that role, but no! He’d spent the two-week casting call screwing around with Katrina Butterfield, romping in the Virgin Islands, answering her darned booty call and living up to his womanizing Romeo image. When he realized he’d forfeited his chance at the part of the year, he’d just about wrung her pretty little neck. He sighed. At least he’d learned from his misstep.
Logan gripped the unforgiving black rubberized armrests. He had to get his career in order. Andrew Speedle exited the conference room through the thick wooden auditorium door. Logan’s heart plummeted to the floor. Great. More competition he didn’t need. Andrew’s crooked smile could be both sinister and sweet at the same time. His rumpled, straight-out-of-bed look graced the covers of countless magazines. And he was only twenty-seven! Not only that—he had three supporting roles under his belt, with a lead coming up at the end of the year. Audiences had flocked to see his last film, making it the third highest grossing movie of the year. Andrew could play the sexy hunk-next-door role in his sleep and Logan hated hi
m for it.
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. Shit. Another part down the drain and he hadn’t even tried out yet.
Please let them turn him down. I can do this.
“Malone? Are you giving in already?”
Logan’s gaze met Andrew’s glare. “They laughed at your sappy credits, didn’t they?”
Andrew gave him the finger. “Piss off, Malone. Once she finds out you’ve screwed the producer and the director, that writer will have your balls in her pocket. Go home and try for a fitting job, something you can handle without dialogue. This ain’t the role for you.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks, asshole.”
Andrew sauntered away. Jealousy crashed in Logan’s body like a tidal wave. What did that man have that he didn’t? He mentally tallied his own assets—broad shoulders, six-pack abs, toned legs and tight buns. Women drooled over his hazel eyes and perfect grin, and he looked hot with any hairstyle. So what was the issue? He was the man for the job without a doubt—case closed.
He sighed. That line of reasoning worked, but Andrew had roles and money, lots of money. A tight ass meant nothing without dollars in the bank.
He thumbed through the book. There were no answers in the battered pages, but simply holding the paperback gave him comfort. He could identify with the hero who wanted true love and honesty with no pretensions. He shook his head. That wasn’t possible in Hollywood. Maybe not even in California. Possibly not the world.
Logan flipped to the black and white picture of the author on the inside back cover of the book. Her dowdy professional clothing covered her figure and she smiled sweetly over her shoulder. He’d stared at her so many times and dragged the book around so much over the past three months that the edges of the paper had ruffled. He wondered if she was the actual writer or a model meant to trick the reader. Women that beautiful didn’t write romance. Or did they?
Desire curled in his stomach. If she weren’t a model, he’d love to tangle his fingers in her dark hair, kiss her lips raw and make her scream with pleasure. Did her skin feel as soft as it looked? Logan guessed it would and she’d do just fine as his arm candy for the premiere. Hell, he’d love to love her for quite a long time.
Love? Too bad it was all a load of crap and nothing more than an act of foreplay involving fictitious emotions. Who actually believed in love? Logan drew a deep breath and let it slide between his lips. He’d never meet a woman who could change his mind and his heart. Women like that didn’t exist. Not that lasting relationships mattered much. Paying the bills—that was important. Keeping up the movie star lifestyle had drained his already dwindling bank account. Another flop would mean the end of his career. Career over before the age of thirty-three, hard to envision…but it looked like a very real possibility.
Maybe it was time to go home. No, he’d begged too long and hard to get the chance for the audition. He couldn’t back down now. I will earn this role.
“Malone?”
Jostled back to reality, Logan looked up. His throat constricted at the sight of another ex. Perfect. “Well, hello, Nikita. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Is it my turn, or did you fill the role? I saw Speed walk out earlier.”
Nikita Cline pushed her black-rimmed cat’s eye glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s your turn. We haven’t made a decision, yet, but you might do.”
Logan felt her heated gaze travel the length of his body. He shivered. He should switch to a different production—one without Nikita. He pasted a wolfish grin on his face and stood to meet her in the doorway. “Well, I’d better dazzle your socks off, then, shouldn’t I?”
She grabbed his arm before he entered the room. “You could dazzle other things off instead.” Her lips grazed his ear. “I miss you.”
Logan shivered again as her perfume wafted to his nose, demanding his undivided attention. He didn’t miss the arguments, the accusations, the experimentations she loved so much. She liked to play the field with multiple partners, toys, role-play and whatever she could find for kink. He liked a little kink, but she wasn’t his style. “How about I just pass the audition, huh?”
He spotted the women at the table and pasted on his most wicked smile. His voice caught in his throat and a ripple of excitement ran the length of his spine at the sight of his audience. The writer? Was she really there? Or did she moonlight as a screenwriter? Maybe a friend of the producers? Oh, my, my, my.
Nikita gestured to the table. “I’d like to introduce the heads of this production. This is Maggie Bowles, our associate producer.” She shrugged a shoulder to the woman on the right. “And this is the writer, Cass Jensen.”
Logan forced a nod. Maggie had worked on Break and co-directed Maia, both mega box office hits. She had a reputation for fairness and impartiality with her actors and crew. But the other woman—oh man. He blinked. Cass Jensen penned Wrong Turn, Slingshot and toyed with his fantasies from the safety of a black and white photo. Crossbeam Studios had translated three of her earlier novels into box office hits. Now she sat across the room, in living color and completely unaware of his innermost desires.
Had the heat just kicked on? He licked his lips. Something had happened and not just between his legs.
It seemed as if everyone else in the cavernous conference room had evaporated except him and Cass. She wasn’t his normal blonde model-type, quite the opposite. She had curves and porcelain skin. Her dark chocolate-colored hair glittered slightly under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting, and she brushed the silky strands off her face, revealing her lack of a wedding ring.
Score!
Her mouth curled into a faint smile, accompanying the sparkle in her startling blue-gray eyes. Color rushed into her pale cheeks.
Oh man.
Logan’s eyes slipped greedily over her body. Would she flush during sex? The light scent of her perfume muddled his brain. Lilac? Rose? Whatever it was, it was enticing. Logan swallowed hard. Tightness invaded his chest. Such a rapid reaction to a woman knocked him for a complete loop. Cass was the kind of woman who ended up being a cherished lover, not a plaything. He glanced at her once more. His throat went dry. Damn, if she blushed too much longer, he’d be in trouble. If he got time alone with her, he’d be a goner. How would her hands feel gliding along his body? Heaven, probably.
Maggie spoke and interrupted his visual grope session. “You’ll read with Tiffany Dufraine. She’s agreed to play the part of Sophie. Turn to page nineteen. I want to see what you’ll do with the initial love scene.”
His shoulders slumped and he bit back a growl. Love scene? Why not the track dialogue or the buddy scene with the crew chief? Logan cleared his throat. He could do a love scene. He had heartless down to a science. But something foreign curled around his brain. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, yet looking at Cass in the flesh… He needed air. No, he needed Cass. Right now. He couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling. Heat thrummed in his belly. He didn’t understand why, but he wanted to find out whether she wanted heartless or if she was a forever kind of girl. He wanted her body writhing under his, screaming his name in sheer ecstasy.
“Logan? Are you ready?”
Wide-eyed, he turned back to the blonde actress and flipped the script open. “Sorry.” He scanned the page and rolled his shoulders. The vertebrae in his neck cracked. He closed his eyes and swallowed a groan.
Way to act totally unprofessional.
He opened his eyes and focused on his reading partner. “This isn’t your dream,” he began. “You don’t want this life, Soph.”
Tiffany reached out to him. “You’re my other half. Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. “I can’t walk away from you, Jonathan.”
Logan squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around her waist. He wondered how it would feel to hold Cass. No, this was Tiffany portraying Sophie. This was a major audition. Focus. “Babe, racing is my life. I don’t have money to offer and my heart’s been broke too many times to count. Is that the kind of man you want to p
in your hopes and dreams on?”
Tiffany tipped her head and brushed her lips against his. “You’re the man I want to pin my life on. Money never was important. As for your heart, that’ll mend over time.”
Logan cast a quick glance across the room. It felt wrong. All wrong. “Soph, can you handle being second fiddle to a race car?” He wondered about Cass. Could she handle being second fiddle to his career? Or would she want him to change?
He clenched his jaw. Enough! He needed the part and the money and couldn’t possibly need Cass. Why? He didn’t know her. Besides, why couldn’t he think straight? She wasn’t a stunner. She was sort of plain and average, with a heart-shaped face and soulful eyes…soft, innocent and beguiling. Cass smelled good. No, better than good—intoxicating. Damn it!
Tiffany snuggled into his arms and raked her nails down his back. “I’ll learn to drive the damn thing just to be with you. All you have to do is say the words.”
Logan stumbled, only for a moment. “Uh, well, then babe, you got a deal. I love you.” God, he sounded stupid and clumsy. “I’m sorry.” Another blown opportunity. Shit.
Cass’s grin blossomed exponentially and Logan completely forgot about the role. His heart pounded like a bass drum in his ears. Everything focused on the angelic woman scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad. He needed to see that brilliant smile again and to taste her kiss. How else could he make her bloom?
“Do you have the DVD of clips we requested?”
He frowned. Cass looked away. If she hadn’t spoken, then who had? Logan turned to face Nikita as she poked his biceps with her sharp fingernail. Oh, her. Damn it, he had no idea what she’d said. “Huh?”
Her pale blue eyes narrowed. “Your DVD. Did you bring one?” She held her hand open. Her long acrylic nails flashed and clicked as her fingers waggled. “Don’t tell me you forgot. You forget everything, like returning phone calls.”
Logan stole another glance at Cass before digging in his backpack for the disc. She’d turned to conference with Maggie. Damn, had he lost her attention already? Did he have it to start with? Probably not. And Nikita brought up his lousy personal skills. His heart sank. He zipped the bag closed. “Here.” He placed the disc on the table. “Thank you for considering me for this role.”