by Marie Force
“I’m not going to beg for a chance to prove you wrong. I’m only going to say that I like you and I like this.” I tighten my hold on him. “I like being with you and kissing you, and I liked leaning on you earlier when Maddie was hurt. I probably liked that a little too much.”
“I liked it, too. I like it all.”
“Then maybe…” I summon the courage to go for what I want. Having cancer has left me less afraid than I used to be. I’m painfully aware that life is short and we’ve got to seize the moment, especially when the moment is lying in my arms, hard and hot and sexy and so tormented. “Maybe we could spend some time together and see what happens. It doesn’t have to be serious or committed or anything like that.”
“So you’d be okay if I did this with someone else?” he asks, sliding his lips over mine.
“I’d rather you not do that with anyone else ever again, but I don’t get to decide that for you.”
His eyes flare with potent desire. “You’re so brave and honest.”
“I’ve learned the hard way that time wasted is time we never get back. I don’t believe in playing games or mincing words.” I guide his head to my chest and run my fingers through his thick, wavy hair. I’ve wanted to do that for so long that I take full advantage while I can. “I’m not asking for anything you don’t have to give me, Kristian. I just want to spend time with you and have the chance to get to know you.”
“I want that, too. I want it more than I should.”
I don’t understand. Maybe I never will. But what I already feel for him is more than I’ve felt for any man, and if this is all he’s capable of, I’ll take it. A little of him is better than nothing.
It’s well after three o’clock when I pull a blanket over Aileen and leave her sleeping on the sofa. I need to go before Maddie wakes up and catches me still here. I have no idea what she’d have to say about me sleeping over, and I don’t want to make anything difficult for Aileen, even if she’s made everything difficult for me.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d made my decision, and I’m not known for waffling. Usually, I decide, and I never look back. But with her… She has me questioning everything.
I’m too keyed up to go home, so I drive back to town and head for the office. It’s not unusual for me to work all night while the place is quiet. When I pull into the Quantum parking lot, I see that Sebastian’s truck is still parked outside. Instead of going upstairs to the office, I head down to the club, where I find Sebastian cleaning the bar area.
Hip-hop thumps through the speakers, loud enough to wake the dead. Drake, if I’m not mistaken. We saw him in concert with Future last summer. Flynn got us backstage, all-access passes. That was a great night, one of many I’ve had with my Quantum family. I wave a hand to get Seb’s attention so I won’t scare the shit out of him.
He sees me and turns the music down to a dull roar. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Good night?”
“Busy as hell. Best thing you guys ever did was open this place up to new people. We’re raking it in.”
“Glad to hear it.” He’s Hayden’s closest friend from childhood. The two of them grew up together, albeit on opposite sides of the Hollywood tracks. Seb’s mom was Hayden’s family housekeeper.
“Drink?”
“Please.”
He pours me a Grey Goose and soda with a twist of lime. I’ve been a vodka fan for as long as I can remember—which is far longer than it should be. I had my first drink at twelve, when other kids my age were in sixth grade. I was never a kid. Childhood was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
“How’s Maddie?”
“Better now. Watching her get stitches was brutal.”
“The poor baby. I’ve never seen so much blood. Scared the crap out of everyone.”
“Yeah, poor Aileen. Hell of a thing to have happen on day two in a new city.”
“I’m sure she appreciated having you with her at the hospital.”
“Uh-huh.” I take a sip of my drink, letting the vodka burn through me, offering the sweet relief I can only get from alcohol and kinky sex. The combination of the two is my favorite thing. Or it was until a certain woman came into my life, making me question everything—including my favorite things.
“You all right?”
“Yep.”
“You sure?”
I look up at him. “I’m sure.”
“Glad to hear it.”
I’m about to ask for another drink when Melody Gorman, a woman we all know well, slides onto the barstool next to me. She’s a teenage boy’s wet dream with curves on top of curves, thick, shiny auburn hair that falls almost to her waist and the face of an angel. “Hi, Kris,” she says, smiling at Sebastian, who puts a glass of white wine in front of her.
I glance at Sebastian, who raises a swarthy brow and grins. I should’ve known he wasn’t here alone.
“Mel. Where’d you come from?”
“Long day on set today. Seb was good enough to loan me your sauna and shower. Hope you don’t mind.”
“My sauna and shower are yours. You know that.” She’s Aileen’s polar opposite in every possible way. She’s lush where Aileen is sparse. She’s Hollywood glamour while Aileen’s idea of style is “mom chic,” if that’s even a thing. Whatever it is, it works for me.
Staring down at pure, stunning beauty, I feel nothing for Melody. She’s an old friend, someone I’ve played with many times in the club, but she may as well be a stranger rather than a woman I’ve been inside of too many times to count.
“You’re looking a little tense, Kris,” she says, resting her hand on my arm.
It takes everything I have not to recoil from her touch, to pull back my arm and tell her she has no right to touch me. Not anymore. But I don’t do that, if for no other reason than I don’t want to deal with the questions or the speculation it would generate. A tiger like me doesn’t change his stripes practically overnight without people noticing, and I want to be left alone with my changes until I figure out how the hell I’m going to deal with them.
“You want to work it off?” she asks, glancing at Sebastian, who raises his brows.
“Nah, I’m good, but thanks for asking.” The thought of touching another woman after being with Aileen generates the same sick feeling I had when I contemplated playing with Evie last night. That queasiness is another thing that’s all new to me.
Other than my Quantum partners and our close friends, I’ve never felt loyal to a woman before. It’s another emotion that I have no idea what to do with. My insides are churning, and the vodka doesn’t have its usual calming effect. All the things I rely on to keep me sane are letting me down tonight, and I feel a spark of anger toward Aileen. How dare she do this to me? I was minding my own business at my friend’s wedding when she showed up and ruined me.
She shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that.
I no sooner have that thought than I’m flooded with guilt. It’s not her fault that I’ve lost my fucking mind over her. It’s my fault. I know better than to indulge myself with the kind of thoughts I’ve been having about her and her kids and white picket fences and puppies and happily ever after. Shit doesn’t work that way in my world, and it would do me good to remember that.
“Ready for a refill?” Seb asks as he wipes down the bar until the mahogany shines, his pride in the club always apparent.
“I’m gonna head out.” I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to be home. The only place I want to be is on a sofa in Venice Beach.
Fucking hell.
“Have a good night, Mel.”
“You do the same.”
Seb walks me to the elevator and puts a hand on my shoulder. I hate that my first impulse is still to flinch and defend, even when there’s no need for that with him. “I know you said you’re fine, but you don’t look fine, brother. If there’s anything I can do…”
“Thanks, man.” I give him a bro hug. He’s one of the good guys, and I’m lucky to have him
as a friend. I want to tell him there’s nothing he or anyone can do about the dilemma that has me by the balls. I’m going to have to work it out for myself, and because my sanity is at stake, I’m going to do that by staying the fuck away from her.
Chapter 7
Not even six hours later, I’m on her doorstep with a box of doughnuts, two coffees, a chocolate milkshake and the morning LA Times tucked under my arm. It occurred to me at about five o’clock that her car is still at Flynn’s, so she’s stuck at home. Around the same time, it occurred to me that we have at least a dozen people on our payroll who I could call and instruct to pick up the car and get it to her.
But I didn’t do that.
No, I showered, shaved, got dressed for work and found myself at Kettle Glazed in Hollywood, getting breakfast and driving to Venice Beach to deliver it in person.
I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment.
Aileen comes to the door, and the first thing I notice is that the dark circles that were under her eyes when we first met are back, indicating a restless night.
She lights up with delight at the sight of me. “Hi.”
When was the last time someone was that happy to see me? Never that I can recall.
“Come in.” When she steps aside to admit me, my gaze is drawn to the silky, formfitting robe she’s wearing. Everything about her is petite and delicate and fragile, which is why I can never unleash my inner beast with her. I’d break her in half.
“How’s Maddie?” I ask, sticking to safe terrain.
“Still sleeping. She was up a few times during the night.”
I hand her a coffee. “I figured you might need this.”
“God bless you.”
Her pleasure in simple things is refreshing. “It’s got cream but no sugar. Wasn’t sure how you took it.”
“Just like that. I gave up sugar in my coffee years ago.” She takes a sip and makes a sound that reminds me all too much of last night and the interlude on her sofa.
I let my eyes shift to the “scene of the crime,” and my cock twitches with appreciation of the memories.
Knock it off, I tell myself—and my cock. That’s not why you’re here.
Isn’t it?
Shut the fuck up!
I’m not sure who my inner voice is talking to, but he’s got my attention. I keep my eyes on her face and resist the urge to let them wander. “I was thinking that your car is at Flynn’s, and you might need a ride to get it.”
“That’s so nice of you. I was just starting to think about how I was going to retrieve my car and my son.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“I said I’ll take you.” That comes out sharper than intended, and I immediately regret that. “Sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
I’m starting to get fed up with people asking me that, especially her, because it’s completely her fault that I am anything but okay. “I’m fine. I own the company. I get there when I get there.”
“All righty, then.”
I’m fucking this all up. “And I sound like an arrogant douche, which wasn’t my intention.”
She smiles, and her amusement pisses me off. I’m off my game with her, and that too makes me crazy. I’m never off my game with women. Unlike most men, I’ve never found them particularly complicated or hard to figure out. But she is different. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever known, and that has me off-kilter and out of sorts. I don’t even know what I’m doing here when I vowed, only a few hours ago, for fuck’s sake, to stay away from her.
“I only meant that I have time to take you. If you want me to.”
“I want you to.” She reaches for my hand, and I meet her halfway, giving her my hand, again before I consciously decide to. If she only knew the power she has over me. It’s frightening. “Let’s go outside and have our coffee.”
Like the lap dog I am with her, I let her lead me to the deck, where we sit next to each other on the same chairs we occupied last night.
“I love having a deck and a yard and being able to have my coffee out here in the morning.”
“It’s pretty. Ellie did a nice job with the yard and gardens.”
“I can’t believe she did everything herself. I’m so envious. I want to know how to do all that. She said she’ll teach me.”
I hang on her every word, filing away each new piece of information she offers, adding them to the growing collection of things I know about her.
“I’m used to having a super I could call to fix things. I don’t want to be that kind of tenant for Ellie.”
“I’ll help you if you need something.”
“That’s sweet of you to offer, but I want to be able to do it myself. I’m used to being self-reliant.”
My inner Dom wants to stand up and rage against that statement. I want her to rely on me and only me. I thought we weren’t doing this, my annoying inner voice says. I want to tell him to shut the fuck up. He’s not in charge here. I am. Needing to move, I get up. “How about a doughnut? You gotta try one of these. They’re all the rage in Hollywood.”
“I won’t say no to that.”
I go inside to retrieve the box of doughnuts, forcing myself to calm down while I’m in there. I hate being out of control and off my game. Control has been the centerpiece of my life. Maintaining it has allowed me to go from a homeless street urchin to the top of my profession. Losing it is not an option, and I’d do well to remember that. After a few deep breaths, I return to the deck with the box of doughnuts.
She watches me with insight that rattles me. It’s like she can see inside me, which puts me at a distinct disadvantage.
I open the box and present it to her, the sugary scent flooding my senses—and hers.
“Mmm,” she says, licking her lips.
Naturally, my cock stands up with interest at the movement of her tongue over her lips.
“Is that chocolate frosted glaze?”
“I believe it is.”
“Oh my God. Sign me up for that.” She takes the doughnut, and I close the box, putting it on the table next to us. “You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”
“I don’t do sugar,” I tell her as I return to my seat.
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Why?”
“I eat clean—no sugar, nothing processed, very few carbs.”
She cringes. “I don’t think I could do that. I love carbs.”
“I do, too, but after not eating them for years, whenever I do, I feel sick. So, I avoid them. But you go ahead and enjoy that doughnut. Don’t mind me.”
She takes a bite and then another, before putting it on a napkin and depositing it on the table.
“You don’t like it?”
“I’m sure I’d love it if I could actually taste it. The chemo messed with my taste buds, making everything taste funny. They say it’ll get better eventually. Any time now.”
The word “chemo” fills me with anxiety. I want to know exactly what she had, how she was treated, what the long-term prognosis is, how she feels right now. I want to know everything. I want to know that she’s getting the best possible care. But I can’t ask. I don’t have the right to.
“It’s a lot,” she says softly.
“What is?”
“Me and my kids and my illness. I’d understand if it’s too much—”
“It’s not.” It’s way too much. All of it, especially the way she makes me feel, but I’d never tell her that.
“Kristian—”
I reach for her hand and link our fingers. “It’s not too much.” We’re not getting involved here, remember?
Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.
“Could I ask you something?”
Anything. “Sure.”
“What exactly is it that you do at Quantum? I know you’re a producer, but I’m not sure what that means.”
Her question puts me on much safer ground, even
if holding her hand is better than the kinkiest sex with other women. “Basically, it means that I pull together the pieces for every project. I find the material, bring it to my partners, decide with them what we’re going to do—and what we’re not going to do. The role is a little different at Quantum than some other production outfits, because we do most of our projects ‘in house,’ meaning the partners star, direct, film, etc. Right now, I’m preparing for the release of Insidious while guiding four other films through the various stages, from financing to discovery to casting to filming to postproduction to distribution to release to release on DVD. It never ends. At the top of our list right now is the project we’re doing based on Natalie’s story. It’s Flynn’s passion project, and we’re excited about it. On top of all that, I’m also the managing partner, in charge of personnel and HR, among other things.”
“Wow,” she says. “You must have insane organizational skills.”
“I guess I do, but I also have an amazing team that supports me. They don’t let things fall through the cracks.”
“It’s impressive.”
“What is?”
“All of it. Everything you do. And for what it’s worth, I’m a huge fan of Quantum’s films. I think I’ve seen Camouflage a dozen times.”
“That was a very special film for us.”
“It was incredible.”
“I’m glad you thought so.”
“Everyone thought so.”
I smile at her, pleased by her approval of my life’s work. “That’s nice to hear. Sometimes I wonder if what we do matters—”
“It does matter. When I was so sick I couldn’t do much of anything, I watched movies like a fiend. I don’t know that I would’ve gotten through it without being able to lose myself in other people’s stories. They kept me from spending too much time thinking about my own situation and freaking out about what was going to happen to me and my kids.”
“I hate to think of you sick and afraid.”
“It was a rough year, but I’m better now.”
I’m tied up in knots. I want to ask if she’s going to stay that way, if she needs more treatment, if I need to be terrified that I’m going to lose her after only just finding her. I can hardly breathe as these thoughts come over me, one after another.