“Vivien . . .”
“I left her at the cemetery so she could be put in the ground. I—I can’t get that out of my head.”
“You’re breaking my heart.” He hugged her even closer, pulling her inside where she felt safe and protected. Growing up, she’d had to protect herself. These days she had bodyguards to keep her safe. There was no one to grab her and give her what she didn’t even know she wanted most.
“What can I do?” Henry spoke into the top of her head. “I don’t know what to do to help you.”
Until now. Vivien pulled back and looked up at him. Up into his handsome face so close to her own. His intense gaze was in conflict with his comforting voice and soothing touch. Slowly he lowered his face and his brown eyes locked with hers.
“Vivien.” Her name was a whisper. A soft breath against her lips that sent shivers down her spine. “I’ll do anything for you.”
For the third or fourth time that day, Vivien stood shocked to her core. Stunned by Henry Whitley-Shuler. He wasn’t looking at her like she was a pesky girl, nor did he appear to want to shake her. No, he looked like a man who wanted to do something entirely different with his hands.
And she wanted him to. She wanted him to touch her and give her something else to think about besides her mother. She wanted him to give her what she hadn’t known she needed until he’d touched her.
He brushed his mouth across hers, lingering for a few breathtaking moments. “Tell me what you want.” His lips pressed into hers, not quite a kiss and entirely too short. “Ask anything.”
She sucked in a breath as her heart pounded in her chest. She wanted him to kiss her and make her breath stop in her chest. To use his strong hands and make her forget the pain ripping at her heart, she wanted him to kiss her all over and take control, but she didn’t want him to make her ask. “Henry,” she whispered and rose onto the balls of her feet. She looked into his deep brown eyes and swallowed hard. She’d never been the kind of girl to ask anyone for anything. “Just kiss me.”
A rough groan brushed her mouth as one of his arms clamped across her back, pulling her even tighter against him. His free hand cradled the back of her head, and he kissed her long and slow, giving her what she demanded. Even as he lit a tingly little fire in the pit of her stomach, he never lost control. Just when she would have pushed it—pushed him—he pushed away and his hands fell to his sides. “Let’s get you home.”
Chapter 10
The Diary of Vivien Leigh Rochet
Keep out! Do NOT read under Penalty of Death!!
Dear Diary,
I got the part!! Drama club is putting on Little Shop of Horrors and I’m playing Audrey!! The real Audrey, not the plant. I tried out and got the role. I was so nervous because I had to sing. I didn’t know if I could do it, but Momma bought me the movie and I watched it over and over on the VCR until I learned all the songs and dialogue. I watched it even more than I watch Clueless, the best movie ever made. Loraine Monroe-Barney thought she was going to get the part because she’s really popular and a cheerleader. Everyone in school thought she was going to get the part because her great-granddaddy has a county somewhere named after him, or some such. I was soooooo nervous. I couldn’t sleep or hardly eat. Momma says I can worry Jesus off his cross, but I couldn’t help it. This is the BEST day of my life. ☺ ☺ ☺
Dear Diary,
I’m definitely going to need a bra soon. Momma said not to rush it. She said the girls in our family are late bloomers, and when we do finally bloom, we’re likely to have small blossoms. I don’t care. I just want to wear a bra like all the other girls in school.
Dear Diary,
Good news is Momma got rid of Stupid Chuck. Bad news is she got a new boyfriend, Booker. He has brown teeth and smells like beer. I call him Booger and Momma says I’m just being ugly. Mamaw Roz said not to get worked up about Booger ’cause he’ll be gone faster than green grass through a goose. Uck!!
Dear Diary,
Henry and Spence came home for summer break. Momma and I took Spence a present because it was his birthday. He’s a year older than me, but he’s really weird. Momma says I just don’t recognize happiness when I see it. Whatever. He’s just not right. Henry came late to the party and he brought a girl with him. He’s sixteen and can drive and isn’t as ugly as he used to be. The girl had red hair and pretty white skin and works at Piggly Wiggly. After the party, I heard Nonnie tell him that the girl was the worst kind of strumpet. He said, “You’re wrong, Mother. She’s the best kind of strumpet.” I think Henry was talking about S.E.X. Nonnie got mad and stormed out of the kitchen like the Wicked Witch of the West. I laughed because Henry is usually her flying monkey. He said that I need to stop listening to other people’s business. I said that he needs to kiss my go-to-hell. Momma said we both need Jesus.
Dear Diary,
The kids at school say Momma’s crazy. I try to say she’s not, but deep down, I know they’re right. She came to pick me up from school once with her dress inside out and her hair was sticking up. I was so embarrassed my stomach hurt. Then I felt really bad and cried because I was embarrassed of my momma. She can’t help it. Last week, she painted the living room yellow. She stayed awake all night, and when I got up for school, she was laughing and talk-talk-talking like she does in her happy moods. She said she’d drive me to school, but I grabbed a Pop-Tart and ran out of the house before she could find her purse. The Pop-Tart made my stomach hurt.
Dear Diary,
I LOVE ACTING!! My drama teacher said I’m “gifted” (in a good way), and I played Audrey better than any other student she’s ever taught. Momma said I need to reach for the stars, and she took me to the kids’ theater and signed me up for acting classes once a week. Someday the world will know VIVIEN LEIGH ROCHET!!
Things I Want To Be List
1. An actress—duh
2. Actress-double duh
3. Actress-triple duh
4. Skinny
5. Momma with five kids
Chapter 11
Vivien shoved one foot into her peep-toe pump and looked across her shoulder at Henry, standing in his kitchen, thumbing through messages on his cell phone as if he hadn’t just kissed her.
“Shake your tail feathers,” he ordered without looking up.
After he’d kissed her, he’d practically shoved her out of his shop, and she was still reeling from running behind him across the yard. Or maybe she was still reeling from his crazy-wonderful kiss that left her wanting more. He’d pulled her close, then pushed her away, putting more than physical distance between them. “Why are you cranky?”
“I’m never cranky, Vivien.” He’d said her name. A clear sign that he was cranky.
“You were born cranky.” Her other foot refused to slide into her shoe and she gave up.
“You were born a pain in the ass.”
With one shoe on and one off, she limped to the kitchen. “You didn’t think so a few minutes ago.” He didn’t respond. “You kissed me like you were trying to see if I still have my tonsils.” Which was probably a stretch.
He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes then returned his attention to his phone. “Don’t blow what happened out of proportion,” he said as if the kiss changed nothing between them.
Still slightly off balance, she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “I’m not blowing anything out of proportion, Henry.” The kiss had made her want him. Want Henry Whitley-Shuler, and that changed everything.
“Let it go, Vivien.”
Not a chance. “Admit it, Henry.”
He sighed and turned toward her. “What do you want to hear? That if you weren’t drunk, I would have tossed you on your momma’s pineapple table, pushed your dress up and your panties down.”
Oh. His words settled in the pit of her stomach and made her mouth dry. He’d been thinking that? “I thought I was a pain in the ass.”
“You are.” He raised a hand and pushed her hair behind her ear. “You drive me insane with your prett
y face and sassy mouth and the way your cute bottom looks in that dress. You purposely try to provoke me until I lose control.”
“If you’d lost control, I’d be on my momma’s table. Remember?” His palm slid from her ear to the side of her neck. She liked his rough hands on her skin and she turned her face into his palm. “I’m not drunk, Henry.” She glanced up and recognized the look in his eyes: that hard searching gaze as if he could see inside her brain and read the truth. She kissed his palm and his lids dropped to half-mast and his eyes softened and warmed. She’d never seen desire in Henry’s eyes, unless it had been the desire to wring her neck. This desire poured through her, heating up thousands of little nerve endings and settling between her thighs.
He hesitated for one awful second before he lowered his face once more. This kiss started as a soft whisper of desire. It was a gentle intake of breath and a rush of longing. It was warm sunshine on the darkest day of her life.
Vivien was thirty and had kissed a lot of men, both on and off the screen. Men who’d tried to seduce her with charm and money and power. She thought she’d experienced it all, but this was different. New. This was desire and longing, held in check by a gossamer thread, and more seductive than all the charm and money and power in the world. This was seduction that tightened her breasts. It forced a gasp from her lungs and a shudder in her chest. Henry took advantage of her parted lips, and Vivien didn’t hesitate to welcome his warm tongue inside her mouth.
With her head tilted back, she slipped one hand to the back of his head and touched the fine strands of his hair with the tips of her fingers. She kicked off her one shoe and rose on her toes, sliding up his chest and kissing him hard. She wanted to push him into losing control.
Henry pulled back and his eyes were almost black and filled with a passion she felt in her knees. His breath rushed from his lungs as he dipped his head for more, filling her with hot little tingles that rushed through her veins.
He slid one hand to the back of her neck and the other to her bottom. His fingers curled in her hair, and he pulled her closer. Everywhere his chest and hips brushed against her, the volatile sparks raced through her and hit a flash point in the center of her chest. His erection pressed into her thighs and passion seared her insides, scorching her skin and making her feel like she’d touched lightning. It burned her up from the inside out and she pulled back to look up into his dark gaze and hunger looking back at her. “Henry,” she whispered, and raised her fingertips to her lips, half expecting to feel burned.
He breathed in deeply through his nose and looked up at the ceiling. “If you want me to take you home, tell me right now,” he said, but he didn’t drop his hands. He returned his gaze to hers. “Before I let you make me completely insane.”
Well aware that she was playing with fire, she slid her hands up his hard chest to the sides of his neck. She’d touched lightning, and she liked it.
In the distance, the soft sounds of nightfall faded as desire took over and she lifted her mouth to his. In an instant, the once soft kiss turned voracious. Slick and feeding with a passion that was far too big to hold back. She wanted Henry and it somehow felt right that she should have him.
Her hands moved to the front of his shirt and her fingers worked the buttons until it lay open to her touch. Then her hands were on him, touching his warm skin and hard shoulders. Combing her fingers through his chest hair and pressing her palm against his tight belly.
So intent on the feeling of his muscles beneath her hand, she didn’t realize Henry had unzipped her dress until he pulled back long enough to push it from her shoulders. The black Armani fell to her feet in a dark pool, followed by her bra.
Henry shrugged out of his shirt, then he pulled her against his hard chest. Her tight nipples raked his warm skin and felt so good she shivered.
“Damn,” he said, his voice strained as he stepped back to look at her. His heavy-lidded gaze poured over her from the top of her head, past her face and shoulders, downward to her breasts and black panties. “Look at you,” he said just above a whisper. “All grown up and perfect.” His fingers brushed the tips of her sensitive nipples.
She moaned and slid her palm over his flat stomach and let her fingers follow his dark happy trail to the button closing the waistband of his pants. He’d dressed left of his zipper and she pressed her hand against him, the heat of his erection warming the wool material.
He sucked in a breath between his teeth and grabbed her waist. He lifted her onto the cold granite island and spread his fingers wide along her ribs as he looked at her. His gaze touched her breasts and belly and thighs. Then he slid his hands to the backs of her shoulders, arching her back and bringing her breasts close to his face.
His breath whispered across her aching nipple just before he softly sucked her inside his hot wet mouth. Vivien moaned and planted her palms behind her. His cheeks drew inward as he created a delicious suction. One hand slid from her back, down her belly, and he pulled her panties from her and dropped them beside her dress. Her breath stopped in anticipation of his touch. Then he gave it to her and air rushed from her lungs and her head fell back.
“You’re wet, Vivien Leigh.” His rough voice vibrated against her breast as he stroked her slick flesh. He caressed her like a man who knew exactly how to make a woman feel good. She didn’t have to give him directions and it would have been so easy just to succumb right there. To let him stroke her to orgasm. It wouldn’t have taken much more and she’d be gone, but she didn’t want to orgasm by herself on a cold slab of granite. She wanted him to come with her.
“Stop,” she said and grabbed his wrist. He slid his wet hand up her stomach to her breast, and his fingers played with her, spreading moisture across her nipple. He followed with his mouth, and a sound of deep male pleasure rumbled deep in his throat, primal and possessive and pushing her so close to the edge she feared she would orgasm with nothing more than his mouth on her breast.
“Stop, Henry.”
He leaned his head back and looked at her. His gaze totally gone with passion. “I’m not taking you home.”
“I don’t want you to take me home.” She licked her dry lips. “Take your pants off and take me to bed.”
His pants hit the floor practically before the words left her mouth. Blue-and-white-striped boxers followed and she barely got a glimpse of his impressive erection before he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and the length of his hot velvet penis pressed into her crotch and behind.
She brought her face to his and his tongue ravished her mouth as they moved from the living room down the hall to his dark bedroom. Light from the windows spilled across the big bed, and he gently laid her across the deep blue quilt. Her arms felt empty and she raised herself on her elbows as he opened a drawer of his nightstand. As he rolled a thin condom over the plump head of his penis, he watched her, his lids heavy and his eyes shining with pent-up hunger. Then he covered her, warm skin and hard body, wrapping her in a possessive embrace. The head of his erection touched her, smooth and hard and incredibly hot. He slid halfway inside, felt the taut resistance and took her face in his hands. He kissed her gently as he withdrew then pushed a little farther inside.
She sucked in a breath, his breath, as he pulled out almost completely only to bury himself deep inside. A rough groan tore through his chest and echoed in her ears.
She wrapped one leg around his back. “Henry,” she whispered as he began to move, setting a perfect rhythm of pleasure. “That feels good.”
With his face just above hers he asked, “Tell me how good.”
Every cell in her body was focused on the thrust of his hips, and she tried to think past the pleasure slicing though her body and twisting her insides into fiery knots. His black gaze was a turbulent meld of rampant lust and tempered restraint and she managed a “Real good,” before she gave in completely to desire. Over and over, harder and more intense, he thrust into her. His breath brushed her cheek as he drove her farther up the bed, p
ushing her closer and closer to the edge. She was little more than pure lust and raw abandon, and he owned her body in that moment. She didn’t care, as long as he didn’t stop. “Henry,” she cried out as she moved with him. Deeper. Hotter. So close. “If you stop I’ll kill you!” Her heart pounded in her ears and her breath rushed from her lungs. She cried out . . . something . . . as a white-hot orgasm flashed like lightning from the tip of her toes to the top of her head.
She heard her name torn from his throat as he joined her in a climax that lasted forever but was much too short.
Neither of them moved and were incapable of saying anything for what seemed like a long time. Not until their breathing slowed and their heart rates returned to normal.
“Jesus, Vivien.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “That one was ripped from the pit of my soul.”
She knew what he meant. “I felt it in my toes. I think I got a cramp in my foot.”
Henry lifted his face and smiled, very satisfied that he’d caused her pain. He kissed her shoulder, then withdrew from her, moving from the bed to the bathroom. Variegated shadows slid across his the muscles of his back and hard butt. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said over his shoulder just before he disappeared into the bathroom. Even if she wanted to leave, they both knew she had no way to “go anywhere.”
Cool air brushed across Vivien’s heated skin. She took care of herself, working and toning her body, but she wasn’t totally comfortable lying on Henry’s bed with nothing but a smile. Vivien slipped beneath the covers, and she sighed as the smooth sheets slid across her skin. Henry had good sheets and she’d come to appreciate a high thread count.
The toilet flushed in the next room and she looked toward the bathroom door. Henry walked toward her, naked and beautiful within the light falling across the bedroom. Looking at him, at his dark hair and handsome face, his lean body and long stride, a warm little glow stirred unexpectedly in her chest. The feeling both confused and scared the daylights out of her.
Just Kiss Me Page 11