Unscripted

by Christy Pastore

  “Wow. That sounds like a beautiful story. Who’s playing the woman so I know which actress to be insanely jealous of?”

  Ronan laughed and said, “Heather Young.”

  “Heather again, huh?”

  “The director wanted Skylar Barrett, but the producers are the same team from These Streets of Dublin. They feel we can cash in on the same success.”

  “That makes sense. Do you want me to run lines with you?”

  Ronan arched one of his gorgeous thick eyebrows, and a devious smile crossed his lips. I didn’t know what he was thinking in that moment, but I was intrigued.

  “You like to role play, beautiful?”

  I let out a loud chuckle but then realized Ronan was completely serious. He moved his index finger slowly across his bottom lip. The way he looked at me told me he was pondering something more than likely wicked.

  “You mean like Dungeons and Dragons and wizardly type stuff?” I teased.

  “No, not anything as weird as that, Holliday. I was thinking of this angle— you’re a sexy librarian and I’m a serious researcher. We both work late in the library one night.” Ronan moved from the chair to the couch, sitting beside me. “We’re all alone and… and we fuck everywhere. Breaking the please be quiet rule over and over.” Sweeping my hair off my neck, Ronan began to kiss me. Trailing soft kisses up my throat and then moving to my mouth, he gently brushed his tongue with mine. Moving me into his lap, I felt his cock hardening beneath my ass.

  “Ronan…” I whispered against his lips, “That’s quite a fantasy you’ve painted.”

  “I’m an actor. I can think of a million fantasies to play out with you,” he rasped softly while running his lips down my cheek, trailing to my jawline.

  “How about we play out a scene from, A London Love Story?” I suggested, feeling confident Ronan would be amused.

  Brushing his thumb against my cheek, he asked, “Oh beauty. Have you been thinking about what it’d be like to have sex with Cameron Carlisle?”

  “I’ve read the books, Ronan. I’m sure I’m one of many women who’ve thought about writhing around with you in the sheets of your London flat, fucking you in the hayloft of your stables or screwing your brains out in front of the fireplace of your country estate.”

  “You mean Cameron’s flat and country estate?” he teased.

  I stroked his face, running my index finger over his lips, saying, “Ronan for the rest of our days, you will be known as Cameron Carlisle in fictional cinematic history.”

  “God, I just hope it doesn’t ruin my career.” He sighed. “A lot of people hated the books.”

  I didn’t even think about how the risky role could pigeonhole his acting career.

  “True, but way more people loved the story between Cameron and Katia. So screw the haters.”

  “I quite like the way you think.” Shifting his body, I eased off his lap. “Come back here, beauty.” Propping his feet up on the coffee table, Ronan leaned back on the sofa, wrapping his arms around me. Laying my head on his chest, he kissed the top of my head, twisting my loose curls through his fingers. We sat there holding each other, just watching the snow fall outside.

  “It’s truly beautiful, isn’t it Ronan?”

  “Yes, very. I love New York City in the winter.”

  I brushed the pads of my red painted toes across the top of his foot. “When do you have to leave?”

  “I have to be back in Los Angeles Friday evening.”

  My chest tightened at the thought of Ronan leaving me. I had a physical pain in my stomach at the thought that I wouldn’t see him every day anymore. Worse, I was beyond wrecked on the inside thinking about how I might never see him again. His life was in Los Angeles and mine was here. I’d avoided Los Angeles and the entire state of California ever since I moved here two years ago. I told myself I’d never go back as long as my ex was out there.

  I knotted my fingers with his and sighed. “I think I might miss you when you leave,” I teased.

  “I know I’ll miss you,” Ronan said softly, kissing the top of my head.

  “Will you be back in New York anytime soon?”

  “My beauty, are you troubled that I won’t come back to you?”

  “I don’t know.” Yes

  “Do you want to come with me?”

  “No, I can’t go to California. I just… I just don’t think I can do it.”

  Ronan hugged me tighter. I felt him take in a deep sigh. It suddenly occurred to me that I really knew nothing about Ronan’s life. I knew he lived in Los Angeles. I knew he was divorced with two daughters and that he was a philanthropist and of course an actor. Other than that, I’d been completely selfish and not bothered to ask him a thing about his life.

  “Ronan, tell me about your life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know what your childhood was like. When did you decide to become a model? What prompted you to become an actor? Where do you parents live? Tell me something I haven’t read online in the tabloids.”

  “Whoa, wow. Okay Holliday, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said with a warm laugh. I loved hearing him laugh— sinfully sexy and a little throaty.

  He told me that he wanted become an actor when he got involved in modeling. Something about creating the movie shorts for the campaigns intrigued him about the film industry. I learned all about his family. His parents lived in London and they also spent time in his hometown of Cork, Ireland throughout the year. His mom was a retired school teacher, and his dad was a London real estate developer. I guess his dad owned some buildings in Manhattan as well. Ronan told me he had two sisters, one of them lived in Vancouver with her family, and his younger sister lived in London where she owned a boutique. He admitted he loved Country music. He tried surfing once and nearly drowned, and he let his girlfriend pierce his ear with a safety pin when they were teenagers. He pointed to the scar on his ear. Ironic, we both have physical scars from past relationships.

  When he talked about his marriage, he said he regretted marrying Emma, but would never regret having Leah and Jade. Informing me that the girls were the best part of Emma, he stressed the point that the only good thing she’d ever done in her life was to help create those girls. It became clearer to me that Ronan had a bitter relationship with his ex, but I wondered if he was more hurt than angry. Was it possible that Ronan still loved Emma?

  I was starting to feel a little jealous of Emma Bailey-Wilson. It was a ridiculous notion to be jealous. I knew I had no right.

  We went to bed that night not having sex, which was weird because Ronan had spent every waking minute over the last few days taking pleasure in getting me in it to fuck me. Here I lay ready and willing for this man to have his way with me, and he’s as far away from me as he can be without falling out of the bed. The only thing that might hurt me more was if he’d sleep on the couch or upstairs in the guest bedroom. I contemplated going to the couch. It was too hard being so close to him physically and feeling that he was so far disconnected from me emotionally.

  The last thing we’d talked about was his ex. I wondered if Ronan wasn’t touching me because he wished he was with her instead. I started to regret my decision to ask him questions. My mind began to mist over with unpleasant thoughts, and I was filled with anxiety. I counted to ten, or at least I think I made it to ten. Relaxed, I finally drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning I was pulled from my restless sleep by feeling Ronan’s hands on my body, exploring each and every curve with his tongue and his fingers. My mind eased knowing the first thing he wanted to do in the morning was touch me. Possess me… claim me… own me. His hands travelled up my thighs, lifting up my chemise. My panties withered from my body as he pushed two of his long fingers deep into my pussy.

  “You’re so wet, Holliday. I love that you’re always ready for me,” he teased.

  “I need you Ronan. I need you inside me.”

  “Always my beauty, you’re mine.”

&n
bsp; I threw my head back, allowing Ronan to pleasure me, blowing my mind, repeatedly sending me over the edge and then bringing me back down, only to do it all over again. I lay there panting, enjoying the spasms radiating through my body from the multiple orgasms given to me by this beautiful man that unhinged my core and weakened my knees. My body was limp, my skin damp and my brain foggy. I was going to have to work out harder to endure Ronan’s sexual appetite for my body. Fucking Ronan Connolly was going to be the death of me. I guess there could be worse ways to die.

  After dropping a small fortune at Tiffany’s and Jimmy Choo, Ronan took me to his favorite New York restaurant for lunch. We sat out of the way in a corner booth, and he ordered his two favorite pasta dishes along with some red wine. It was so wonderful being out with Ronan, laughing and talking like we were old friends. It was comfortable and easy but also really hot because he kept trying to shove his hand up my skirt. I was beginning to think he had a thing for messing around in public places.

  The paparazzi were waiting for us as we exited the restaurant. Ronan shielded me from the cameras and pushed me into the backseat of the Mercedes. They were shouting all kinds of things at us:

  “RONAN TELL US ABOUT YOUR MYSTERY GIRL!”

  “IS IT SERIOUS?”

  “WILL SHE BE WALKING THE RED CARPET WITH YOU AT THE EVENT TONIGHT?”

  “COME ON CONNOLLY TELL US MORE ABOUT THIS BEAUTIFUL BRUNETTE!”

  Ronan smiled and did his usual PR with the paparazzi, giving them that movie star mega-watt smile and signing a few autographs for fans. Sliding into the backseat next to me, he removed his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Are you okay, Ronan?”

  “I just have a bit of a sinus headache. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” I said softly while rubbing his arm. “I meant to tell you that there are pictures of us on Tinsel and HollyWood dot com from the day we met.”

  “Oh, yes sorry about that. I tried to get Nina to take them down, but she said I owed her one since she didn’t publish the pictures of me and…” His voice broke and he cleared his throat.

  “You and?” I inquired sharply.

  “Me and Emma… kissing outside in front of my house last month,” he said, blowing out a deep breath.

  Oh my God! He was kissing Emma last month. I fucking knew it.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You… you and Emma? I thought you detested her. I thought…” My throat tightened as my heart began pounding wildly. “I’m so… I’m so confused, Ronan.”

  “Holliday, please, it’s complicated with me and Emma.”

  “Fuck that! Ronan, she’s the mother of your children. She was your wife. There’s nothing complicated about that. That’s straightforward, unbreakable bonds, emotional shit shared forever,” I snapped.

  My head was spinning. He still loves her. I fucking just know it.

  “Ronan are you fucking me just to fuck Emma over? Or are you trying to get her out of your system using my body? You better not be thinking of her when you’re fucking me!” I was practically yelling at the top of my lungs. Pure anger was coming through my voice.

  Ronan looked up at Dean in the rearview mirror and then back at me, his green eyes darkening. He was mad but remained calm.

  “My beauty, I do not love Emma. I assure you of that.” He shot me a stern look, warning me with his expression to lower my voice.

  “Don’t call me that. You don’t go around kissing people you don’t at least like or have affection for in some way.”

  My anger was boiling over. How could I be so stupid? Ronan reached for my hand and I pulled back from him. I didn’t know what to think. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. Why the fuck was I crying for this man? This sexy man had charmed me, but he was obviously still harboring unresolved feelings for his ex-wife.

  “We need to talk, but not in the car. Can you please wait until we get back to the penthouse? I’ve obviously hurt you. I’d like the chance to explain.”

  Before I could answer Ronan, his cell phone rang. He took the call. Whomever he was talking to was inquiring about the guest list for the gala. The gala that I was supposed to be going to with him was in a few hours. I was so mad all I wanted to do was pack my shit and head back to Charlotte’s. We pulled up to the hotel, and I didn’t even bother waiting for Dean to open my door. I rushed through the revolving glass doors of The York, heading straight for the bank of elevators.

  Shit! I couldn’t just go up to the penthouse. I needed a fucking keycard. The only two people that had keycards were Ronan and Dean. Seething and gritting my teeth I waited for Ronan to meet me. Dean blocked the elevator so no one else climbed in with us. Then he shoved the keycard in the panel and we went sailing up. Ronan and I were in such close proximity I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. That anger coupled with the closed-off tiny space was driving my body to nearly lose control. In my head I started to count to ten. I didn’t even get to seven before the elevator finally came to a halt and the doors opened. As soon as the penthouse door flung open, I brushed past Dean, nearly slipping on the marble tile in the foyer. Ronan set my bags down on the couch, and I stood there tapping my foot anxiously, waiting for some explanation. In my head I was plotting my escape.

  “Holliday, please take off your coat and come sit with me.”

  I shook my head, saying, “No, thank you. I prefer to stand.”

  After he shrugged out of his charcoal Prada wool coat, Ronan poured himself a drink and motioned to see if I wanted one. I nodded and he poured me a glass.

  “Holliday, please come over here and sit with me,” he said, holding up my drink by the armchair.

  I shook my head in protest.

  “Holliday, stop being so damn stubborn and get over here and sit with me,” he ordered, pointing to the chair.

  My mouth hung open. I was taken aback by his sharp tone with me. I was acting childishly, but he deserved it. I walked over and grabbed the drink from Ronan’s hand, taking a giant swig. The warm liquid burned as it slid down my throat.

  “Slow, Holliday. It’s meant to be sipped not thrown back like a tequila shot,” he quipped. “Now, you want to tell me what’s got you so worked up?”

  “You and the fact you just told me you were kissing your ex-wife only a month ago,” I snapped.

  “Firstly, she kissed me. Secondly, I’m not thinking of her when I’m making love to you.”

  I blinked and wiped the tears away from my face as I looked into his eyes.

  “What? Wait… making love to me? What are you saying?”

  Placing his drink on the coffee table, he approached me slowly, cupping my chin in his hands. I tried to move back, but I was too slow. He wrapped his arms around my waist, keeping me from running. I struggled to get free, but it was no use. Ronan was seducing me with his eyes and I melted into him. I’m pathetic.

  “My beauty,” he began as I glared at him. “You can stop glaring at me anytime. I don’t love Emma.”

  I cocked my eyebrow up, suspicious of his answer.

  He looked into my eyes and repeated sternly, “I don’t.”

  I didn’t know if this was a trick. Was he trying to convince himself or me?

  “Ronan, I’m going to be honest. I have a hard time trusting people. I want to trust you, but last night the last thing we talked about was Emma. It felt like you were pulling away from me. It worried me that you might still be carrying a torch for her, and now you tell me that you kissed her just last month. What am I supposed to think?”

  “Again, she kissed me,” he said firmly, tightening the grip he had on me. “Emma set up the paparazzi, calling them and telling them exactly where she’d be. Emma let them onto my property and they were lying in wait for her to make her move. She was trying to make Dax Martin jealous. She wanted Nina to publish the photos because Emma knew they’d go viral in no time. That’s the kind of person Emma is – manipulative, always angling. For the record that is just one of the many reasons she an
d I are no longer married.”

  “How did you find out about Emma’s plan?” I pulled back, and he finally released the hold he had on me.

  “One of the photographers she hired called me and told me what happened. Emma didn’t know that Franklin was a personal friend. She doesn’t know the relationships I have with certain photogs. I keep it that way in case I ever need to call in favors. I immediately called Nina and convinced her not to publish the photos.” Ronan walked back to the bar, leaning against it coolly. “It cost me, and now I have to give her something in return. This is how the Hollywood game is played. I assure you that if I could have I would have stopped Nina from publishing your picture. I am really trying not to have your personal life disrupted. I’m sorry that this happened, but this is what happens when you date a celebrity. Can you please forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? Ronan, please, I’m the one that flew off the handle. I’m…”

  He cut me off with a kiss. “Do you remember the phone call I took Saturday evening before we had dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was Nina returning my call. She found out your name and where you worked. I cut a deal with her telling her she could run the pictures, but she was to leave your name out of the post. I told her if she printed anything personal I would sue her and Taryn.”

  “Ronan, I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I don’t care about my picture being published. I appreciate that you cared so much to try and stop it, though,” I muttered softly. “Will you forgive me?”

  He pulled back, placing his thumb over my cheek and wiping the tears away. Taking the drink from my hand, he placed it on the bar and returned to me. With his fingers around the nape of my neck he kissed me deeply, brushing his tongue with mine over and over.