by Bella Andre
After playing the sex symbol for so many years, everyone thought she was so sexy. They assumed she ate men for lunch and spit out their bones before dinner. But they couldn’t have been more wrong, couldn’t have known just how uncomfortable and fake sex had always felt for her. In large part because the men she’d slept with had always wanted—and expected—her to be as glossy and camera-ready in the sack as she was while filming with makeup artists and hairstylists standing by.
Rosa had been a virgin until after they’d signed on to do the show, so she’d never had sex without that pressure right alongside it. Which meant that she’d never really been able to enjoy it.
Right now, however, she was anything but glossy. Miles from camera-ready. She was sticky and sweaty, and her hair was knotted from where Drake’s hands had tangled in it, a thick fog of sensual bliss lingering while she worked to get some oxygen back into her lungs.
In his arms, she’d temporarily forgotten to be afraid. Passion, desire, and pleasure had taken over every cell, inside and out. But now that she was starting to overthink everything again, the fear that he wouldn’t be able to appreciate her like this came rushing back.
She knew just when he sensed her shift from languid to stiff by the way he drew back to lever himself over her, then gazed down at her with obvious concern. “Something’s wrong.”
Knowing she was only making things worse by getting all weird right after they’d just had amazing sex, she made herself say, “How could anything be wrong after that?”
“I don’t know,” he said in a gentle voice. Even when they’d been totally swept up in passion with her wrists in his hands as he took her deliciously hard and fast, he’d been gentle at his core. “But something clearly is.”
For so many years, she’d been able to bank her true thoughts and reactions. But with Drake, she couldn’t seem to hold herself back. She kept telling him too much—feeling too much around him. Which meant that when whatever they were doing together came to its inevitable end, her heart would not only rupture into a million little pieces, but it would never grow back whole again.
“Why can’t you just be a clueless guy like the rest of them? Why do you have to notice every little thing?”
“I don’t notice with everyone, Rosa.”
She’d felt appreciated—treasured—in his arms. But while she could easily have chalked that up to endorphins, she couldn’t deny that his words could mean only one thing: She was important to him.
And it scared her. So much that she blurted, “I’m tired of feeling scared.”
“I was too rough.” He reached for her wrists, ran his fingertips over them as if to check for bruises. “You asked for dangerous, but I took it too far.”
“No, the way you took me...that’s not what scared me. You were perfect. You are perfect.” A rough breath shook through her. “I’m the one who isn’t. Not even close. Men always expect me to be, especially in bed. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
“That’s why you’re scared?” He looked as though he not only couldn’t believe what she’d just said, but that it wouldn’t compute inside his brain. “Because you think I expect you to be perfect?”
“For five years, I’ve had one job: to look pretty and polished all the time. It didn’t matter if I’d just woken up or was coming out of the gym.” She sat up, needing a little space to try to make sense so that he’d understand where she was coming from. “So even though I know I haven’t looked great since we met, I’ve never looked like this. All knotted up and sticky. I don’t want you to think—” She swallowed hard. “To think that you’ve made a mistake sleeping with me.”
Even as she said it, Rosa knew that she was making a huge mistake by letting herself get closer to him like this. A mistake for which she was soon going to pay dearly. Because when she had to force herself to leave him before he was ruined by being linked to her—romantically or otherwise—it was going to rip her heart in two.
“Jesus, Rosa.” He pulled himself into a sitting position too. “The only mistake is if you think the reason people all over the world are mesmerized by you is because of what you look like. There are plenty of beautiful women out there, but no one wants to follow their every move. Do you know why that is?”
Her throat tight from the realization that their lovemaking hadn’t changed anything in the long term and that the clock was already running out on how long she could stay here with him, she could barely get the words out. “Because they don’t understand how Hollywood works like my family and I do.”
“You’re wrong. So damned wrong.” He pulled her onto his lap, clearly not giving a damn that she was still sticky with sweat. “The real reason people can’t get enough of you is because you’re smart. You’re funny. You’re talented. It’s because you’re soft and you’re strong, all at the same time.”
Her throat grew even tighter as it swelled with yet more emotion. “Only you see me this way.” And oh, how she wished she could stay with him. How she wished that she could love him the way he deserved to be loved. Not in the shadows, but for the whole world to see. And with a whole heart, rather than one that had been shredded to pieces one too many times.
“Everyone sees you that way, Rosa.” He pressed the words against her lips in a sweet, soft kiss that made her want so many more, especially if they could actually erase the dark clouds that had been hovering over her for so long. “You’re the only one who doesn’t.” His lips whispered against hers. “How many paintings am I going to have to make of you until you see the truth?”
“I—” She shook her head, let out a frustrated breath, one that came from way down deep in her soul. She wanted so much right now, wanted all the things she knew she could never have because of a decision she’d made to film a TV show when she was eighteen years old. “I don’t know if that’s even possible.”
“It is.” He spoke with perfect certainty. “But maybe it’s not seeing that will help you believe.” He tangled his hands in her hair to pull her closer. “Maybe it’s feeling. Feeling so much that you can’t deny it anymore.” He took her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, one that had her head spinning and her body tingling all over. “I’m going to make that my purpose from now on—to make sure you’re feeling all the time. Starting right now.”
She knew he wasn’t saying the words as a warning, but so that she could anticipate. So that she could pant with renewed need as he ran his big hands over her naked skin, cupping and stroking until she was actually writhing on his lap.
And even though she knew better, even though she knew this perfect idyll in Drake’s secret cabin in the woods couldn’t last forever, no matter how much she wished it could, she was here with him now. So she would make the most of every precious second.
“Please.”
He made her so needy that she couldn’t help but beg. And maybe with anyone else it would have felt like giving away her own power. But though she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to believe in her own strength or talent the way he did, she already knew for certain that he would never try to gain his power through her the way so many other men had since she’d become famous.
“Tell me,” he urged, “tell me what you want.”
She hadn’t exactly been shy during their lovemaking—how could she be, when his kisses and caresses felt like they’d stripped away everything that didn’t matter? But she hadn’t taken the lead either. She knew what she wanted, of course. What she’d wanted from the start, but hadn’t let herself have.
“You.” She put her hands on his jaw and let herself take a long, heady look at the incredible man holding her as though he’d never let her go, never let her fall. “I want you.”
His grin was spiked with heat. So much heat that it took her breath away. “Then take me.”
She grinned back, no longer worried about feeling shy or ashamed. At least not now. Not when she and Drake were alone in their private cocoon of pleasure.
Drawing back just enough
on his lap so that there was space to put her hands on his chest, she closed her eyes and drank in the feel of him, so solid and warm and alive against her palms. Where he obviously favored the visual, she always saw best through her hands.
Slowly, sensually, she worked her way down over his broad and muscular shoulders, tracing his biceps and triceps, and then the sinews on his forearms. First with her hands, and then with her lips, over every inch. All the while, she could feel his arousal grow beneath her hips. Instinct had her teasing with a slow slide here, a wiggle there.
She was glad he let her play as long as he did, but at the same time she loved it when he hit his limit and took her mouth in a rough, perfect kiss. She never wanted this moment to end, but now that she knew the exquisite pleasure of Drake’s body heavy over hers, inside of hers, she didn’t think she could wait another second to get there.
Fortunately, he must have been thinking the exact same way, because the next thing she knew he had donned protection again and was tumbling her back onto the bed, his weight levered over hers.
“Rosa.”
He said only her name as he moved into her, but it felt like so much more. Felt like everything she’d ever wanted but hadn’t thought she could have. She’d never felt this good before, never believed it was possible.
She felt appreciated. Adored. Consumed. Devoured. And...right on the verge of overwhelmed.
But just when she hit the point where fear might have been able to come creeping back in, Drake kissed her.
And made her forget everything but sweet, spiraling ecstasy.
Chapter Sixteen
“Before the sun sets, I need to paint you again.”
Drake tugged her from the warm, cozy bed where she could easily have stayed the rest of the afternoon. Especially if he was in it too.
“Maybe you could bring your easel in here so that I can stay in bed,” she said with a shiver as her bare feet hit the cool wood planks.
“Later,” he said as he dragged her against him for a hot, too-quick kiss. “Right now I want to paint you in the light coming in through the living room windows.”
“It isn’t easy being a muse,” she murmured as she turned to find her clothes.
He surprised her by putting his hands on her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. “Promise me you won’t ever sit for me if you don’t want to.”
She blinked at him, trying to figure out what she’d said wrong. “I was just teasing,” she said, but she instantly realized why he wouldn’t find her offhand comment at all funny. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it.”
“If it’s what you’re feeling—”
She put her hand on his jaw, desire rising at even that one small touch. “I love that you’re inspired by me in any way at all. I’m happy to sit for you until you get tired of having me here.”
“Never.” His eyes went so dark when he grew serious like this. “It won’t ever happen. But that doesn’t mean I have the right to imprison you in my painting cave.”
“Do you think that’s what your dad did?” She didn’t want to hurt him with her question, but she didn’t think either of them could skirt around it now either. “Do you think he made your mom his unwilling muse?”
His jaw jumped beneath her palm, and she wanted so badly to soothe him. “I don’t know.” She ran her hand down from his face to place it over his chest, his heart beating fast as he told her, “None of us know much at all about what happened between them.”
“What about the paintings? Wouldn’t you be able to tell from looking at her expression? From what you see in her eyes?”
“Maybe.” His frown deepened. “Unless my father only painted what he wanted to see—or my mother only showed him what she thought she was supposed to as his muse.”
Rosa wished Drake’s family was perfect, wished he didn’t have to deal with such a complicated situation. But maybe that was part of what had drawn them to each other from the start. And maybe that was also why they weren’t afraid to dig beneath the surface.
Right now, however, she wanted to see the light, the inspiration, in his eyes again. So instead of continuing to dig, she smiled and said, “You promised me pie and a dog on my lap.” It took another few moments for his eyes to clear, but when his mouth found hers again, she breathed a sigh of relief against his lips. “After the sun sets,” she whispered as she made herself draw back, “we’ll continue that thought.”
She felt his eyes on her—hot and hungry—as she pulled on her sweatshirt and panties and headed out to the kitchen. Oscar stretched lazily before padding over to her. “Do you have any treats for him?”
“He’ll happily take a slice of pie,” Drake said, already at his easel, “but there are dog bones in the corner cupboard.”
She fished a bone the size of her fist out of the container. “Sit.” Oscar plunked his big butt down. She held out her hand, and with the utmost care, he licked the bone into his mouth. “You really are adorable. One day I want a dog just like you.”
“You don’t have one?”
“I travel too much, plus my little brother is allergic.”
“Tell me about your siblings.”
“I have two brothers, actually pretty similar to yours, from what you’ve told me. Aaron is the cocky one. Sporty. Smart. A bit of a player, if I’m being honest.” She gave Oscar another bone, then washed her hands and reached for the pie on the counter. “I really do love him, though, even if he can be pretty insufferable sometimes. Lincoln is quieter. Just as charming when he wants to be, but usually happier in his head—just like my dad was.” Trying to keep from getting emotional again when she’d intended to keep things light, she said, “Lincoln can’t believe he has so many fans on the show. But there’s just something appealing about that strong, silent type.”
“No sisters?”
She shook her head. “I always wished I had one, but after what happened to me—” Damn it, she was doing a terrible job of keeping things light. “I’m just glad there wasn’t another girl in the family to take pictures of, and that my mom wasn’t filming that trip with us either.”
Thankfully, Oscar’s loud snuffling at the edge of the counter where the pie sat helped her shake off the darkness that threatened. She turned the oven on and put the pie in, figuring it would be ready to eat by the time the sun set. “Come on, big boy, let’s go pose for the painter.”
It was like crossing the room with a lion at her side—while another one held a paintbrush, his dark gaze both intense and protective. She knew she shouldn’t let herself become too dependent on Drake, but unlike pretty much everyone else in her world, she couldn’t imagine him ever attaching strings to anything.
As soon as she sat in the leather lounger, Oscar got up in her lap, then turned his muzzle so that he could rest it on her shoulder like a baby. She laughed as she stroked him. “I love you too.”
“Lucky furball.”
Drake’s brush didn’t stop moving the way it did whenever things got really serious, but his soft comment still hit her smack dab in the center of her chest.
Did he really mean it? Would he actually want her to love him? And if she did, was there a chance that he would ever love her back? Truly love her, mistakes and all?
Just like that, her fears came rushing back. So many fears. Too many. She truly was sick of being scared.
And yet, she thought as she looked around the room at the paintings propped up against the walls, the woman on Drake’s canvases didn’t look scared. Pensive. Sensual. Confused. Wild. But not scared. Above all, it was bravery and strength that shone through.
She’d meant it when she told him that she didn’t understand how he saw so much, even the things she could barely see in herself. Rosa wanted to be brave, wanted to be strong like the woman in his paintings.
The only problem was that she didn’t know if being strong meant staying here with him...or walking away without letting him get any closer to her and her messes.
Only her body ha
d clear answers right now, with the pleasure he’d given her—the pleasure they’d given each other—nowhere near close to fading. Turning to stare at him now instead of the paintings, she was filled with such longing to kiss him, to touch him, to love him with everything she had during whatever time they still had together. He was so intuitive. Did he know that the only time in a very long while that she’d truly felt strong, brave—good—had been in his arms? Almost as though his bravery, his strength, had been pouring through his skin to hers.
There was nothing she wanted more than to be right back there in his arms again. But since Drake wanted to paint until sunset and she refused to do anything that would distract him from his calling, she decided she needed to do something to keep her hands busy and off of him. Something more than just being pinned in place by his huge sweetheart of a dog.
As if he could read her mind, Oscar climbed off her lap and back onto his bed so that she could grab a small blank canvas from Drake’s stash. “Can I use this?”
It took him long enough to answer that she knew he must have already gone deep. “Use anything.”
She loved that feeling, when she got so lost in something she was making that everything else fell away. She was glad that after months of being blocked, he had finally found his way back into the groove.
Grabbing her needles and thread from her bag, she took the canvas back to the leather chair and began to stitch. She’d never again take for granted this wonderful feeling of being warm and sated, with a dog snoring at her side and the sun setting out over the ocean. But best of all was knowing that Drake was there, creating alongside her.
Her knight in shining armor, who had already given her so much more than any fairy-tale prince could have.
Chapter Seventeen
Long after the sun had set and the timer on the oven had dinged for the apple pie, Rosa remained utterly absorbed in the project on her lap. Oscar was sprawled beside her on the floor, belly up, as peaceful and happy as Drake had ever seen his big lump of a dog.