by Pam Godwin
Dressed buoyantly and seductively in designer fabrics, they’re beautiful, successful, and at least fifteen years younger than me. If any one of them stepped outside, men would trip over themselves to get a closer look. If they walked out together, they would cause a riot.
“…is intravenous vitamin therapy.” Alley Fahy, best known for her roles in romantic comedies, points her famous button nose in my direction. “Don’t you agree, Laynee?”
“I wasn’t following the conversation.” I smooth my damp palms down the shiny material of my dress.
The wardrobe stylist said the color of the dress is cerulean blue, chosen to match my eyes. I told her the hem’s too short for a forty-year-old woman. It covers my scars but fits like a tennis skirt. She told me not to bend over and shooed me away.
“Apple stem cell facials are all the rage.” Alley tilts her auburn head. “Better results than vitamin therapy, right?”
I shrug. I’ve tried it all. “I swear by healthy eating habits and daily moisturizer.” Especially when the moisturizer is applied with strong masculine fingers.
“But at your age, you have to do so much more.” Her gaze flicks to my chest. “Ever considered augmentation?”
Resisting the urge to hug my torso, I hold my arms at my sides and widen my smile. “No. Never.”
The youngest of the group, Collette Conway, leans toward Alley and mumbles, “She might’ve hung on to Blake Harridan a little longer if she had some of that lifted and tucked.”
“Really, Collette?” I swallow a furious rush of air and temper my voice. “We were doing so good there, behaving professionally and amicably like grownups. Why did you have to ruin it by being a dick?”
Collette’s shoulders snap back, and a scowl warps her pretty elfin features.
“We’re just trying to help,” Alley says in a bored tone as she adjusts the string of diamonds on her wrist. “You’re not a spring chicken, Laynee, and now you’re divorced. If you don’t upgrade your appearance, you’ll end your career as a tired old maid.”
Outrage spikes through my veins, but the actress in me maintains a regal smile. “If you don’t upgrade your personality, you’ll end your career as a hollow plastic bitch.”
She inhales sharply. “Is that a threat?”
I’d give her a nasty look, but she already has one. “If you think I’m so tired and old, how about you fight me?” I bat my eyelashes and grin. “After the photo shoot, you and I can have a little sparring match and find out how well your implants stand up to my fists.”
A month ago, I would’ve never proposed such a thing. But after training with Decker, I’m confident enough to take on a scrawny skank. Sadly, I don’t think Alley takes my offer seriously.
“You’re insane.” Her attention locks on something across the room, and she clutches Collette’s wrist. “Oh. My. God.”
The trio of women turn toward the sudden activity at the back entrance. Reese and two of my bodyguards veer off to the side, but the women remain fixated on the door and the man who just walked in.
Decker’s sharp gaze scans the crew of people darting around the crowded studio. Dark denim stretches across his powerful thighs and sits low on his hips. A white collared shirt hangs off his shoulders, unbuttoned and exposing a gray undershirt molded around defined pecs. The black studded belt, worn Converse, and tousled hair gives him the rebellious look I find so damn irresistible.
“Who the hell is he?” Alley whispers. “I’ve never seen anything that hot. Jesus.”
“He must be a model.” Collette absently runs a hand over her black hair. “Look at those biceps. And eyes. Dear God, his lips.”
“I don’t know who he is,” Alley says breathlessly. “But I saw him first. He’s mine.”
My molars crash together. It’s going to crush me when he smiles at them. It’ll destroy me if he flirts with them. They’re young and stunning and preening like peacocks in anticipation of his attention. With just one of his roguish winks, he could have all three of them in bed. At the same time.
Except he signed an agreement, and I paid a handsome amount of money for his commitment. He’s stuck with me for eleven more months.
I push down my stupid insecurities and watch him from beneath my lashes as he surveys the room.
His proud posture exudes swagger and sex as he rests his fingertips in the front pockets of his jeans. The catty women beside me aren’t the only ones stunned into speechless ogling. The male crew members stare and give him a wide berth. The female technicians steal glances, their hands fumbling with equipment as they dare another peek.
His complexion is golden from our morning jogs on the trails, and his brown eyes shimmer in the glow of a nearby light modifier. It’s impossible not to stare at him. He’s an erotic work of art, hotter than hot, and he knows it.
His dark eyes pan left to right, and when they lock on me, a wicked grin spreads across his face. I melt against the wall at my back.
Holding my gaze, he heads in my direction, his long-legged strides eating up the distance and sending my pulse into a soaring spiral.
“Holy shit.” Alley straightens in my periphery. “He’s coming this way.”
With each step, his eyes become clearer, more intense, never leaving mine. I can’t breathe or move or look away. I’m utterly gobsmacked by his unwavering focus on me.
“It’s criminal how good-looking he is,” Collette whispers under her breath. “I want to lick him. Every. Hard. Fuckable. Inch.”
A possessive thrill shoots through me. I sleep beside that man every night. I’ve seen the way his naked body flexes as he fucks his hand, and I’ve come all over those delicious lips. Twice.
I might not have been his first choice in a companion, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off me once to check out the women at my side. He could be doing it out of respect for my public image or simply because he likes looking at me. Regardless of the reason, it makes my heart beat a joyful dance against my ribs. He’s gone way past his obligation to make me feel special, attractive, secure. Claimed.
Ten feet away, his gaze breaks from mine to browse my body. It’s an unhurried trip that lingers on my chest, my bare legs, and the short hem of my dress, before returning to my eyes.
“Damn.” He rubs his clean-shaved jaw, his mouth tipping in a panty-melting smile. “You’re unbelievably—”
“Hey there, gorgeous.” Alley leans against the wall beside me. “Got a name?”
“Yep.” His eyes hold mine, gleaming with mischief and other things. Things meant just for me.
I pin my lips between my teeth.
“We were wondering,” Alley says, “if you’d be kind enough to take off your shirt.”
He steps into my space, his gaze still fastened to mine, and slides his hands along my jaw, framing my face. “I’ve been checking in on you. They hogged you in that dressing room for two hours. I didn’t like it.”
I sway in my heels, transfixed by the lips I want to kiss more than anything and the hooded gaze that falls away to stare at my mouth.
“Are you—?” Alley’s voice invades my Decker-drunk fog. “Are you two together?”
His deep brown eyes flash right before he slants his mouth across mine, devouring my sigh. Alley steps away but doesn’t go far. I tune out her whispering, close my eyes, and lose myself in his kiss.
With his body flush against mine, he plunders my mouth with an expert tongue, chasing, conquering, and staking his claim. His hand slips beneath my hair to support my neck as the other drops to the back of my thigh, his fingers stretching beneath the skirt to trace the crease between my leg and butt.
The kiss isn’t pornographic, but it thrums with raw sex and urgent need. For whatever reason, he wants me, and he’s letting me know with every sinful lick and caress. My hands find his hair as I meet every rub and swirl of his tongue, match each playful bite, and struggle to stay upright.
He tastes the way he smells. Clean, earthy, and elemental, like the atmosphere after a thunders
torm. But he kisses like a hurricane, full of force and fury and devastating power. I want him to sweep me away, damn the consequences.
Too soon, he comes up for air, leaving me wrecked, ravaged, and winded.
He suckles my bottom lip. “Laynee.”
“Decker.”
“I’m fucking crazy about you.”
“You’re definitely crazy.” I grin.
“I’m going to fuck you in this dress.”
A chorus of gasps sounds nearby.
I chuckle against his mouth. “I thought you prefer me bare-faced and wearing yoga pants?”
“Oh, I do, baby. But I’m not gonna lie. Your goddamn legs…” He groans and presses his erection against my hip. “You’ve given me a huge fucking hard-on.”
I’m seconds from blowing off the photo shoot to take care of him when the tread of sneakers hurries toward us.
“No, no, no! Not the lipstick!” The wild-eyed makeup artist shoves him to the side. “What have you done?”
He gives her a withering glare and braces his arms on the wall beside me, keeping his back to the room, presumably to hide his erection. I fight my grin, holding still as the woman repaints my lips.
“No more smudging.” She points the lip brush at him, glances at his ass for a beat too long, and marches away.
He moves back in, putting a possessive hand on my hip and a forearm on the wall above my head. The hungry look he gives me makes the room spin. I feel light-headed and reckless and eternally grateful.
With shaky fingers, I wipe the smear of frosted pink gloss from his swollen lips. “Thank you.”
“For?”
For not flirting with other women. “For respecting me.”
Vertical lines form between his eyebrows. “Is this about the Barbie bookends?”
“The Barbie…?” Oh. “Bookends come in pairs.” I spot the trio standing a few feet behind him. All slender limbs and glossy hair, they shoot envious venom in my direction. “There’s three of them.”
“I didn’t notice.” He touches his forehead to mine. “I’m wearing blinders, Laynee. You’re all I see.”
Oh, Decker. You know exactly what to say.
I smile wistfully. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Finish your photo shoot, and I’ll show you.”
CHAPTER 18
LAYNEE
For the next two hours, the cameras click, the bulbs flash, and my smile strains to the point of pain. When the photography session finally ends, I slip off the heels and carry them toward the dressing room, exhausted to the bone.
Flanked by two of my bodyguards, I reach the hall that leads to the back rooms and find Reese perched on a chair against the wall.
“Hey.” He reaches up and squeezes my hand. “You looked stunning out there. I felt sorry for the other girls who had to stand in your shadow.”
“You’re not biased or anything.” I laugh. “But thanks.” I peek down the busy hallway. “Where’s Decker?”
“I thought he was in the studio. He watched the whole thing.”
A wave of warmth floods my chest.
“Maybe he’s in the restroom,” he says. “Want me to check?”
“That’s okay. I’m going to change and wash my face. Then I’ll be ready to go.”
“The plane’s ready when you are.”
I reached the door of the dressing room, where one of my security guys stands guard. Call me paranoid, but it’s nice to see him here, preventing creepy letters or unwanted visitors from making their way inside.
I lock the door behind me and shuffle toward the vanity and huge lighted mirror, more than ready to get back to Savannah. Resting an elbow on the counter, I reach for the hidden zipper beneath my armpit.
“The dress stays on.”
Decker’s deep timbre startles a gasp from me, and my gaze jumps to his in the mirror. He prowls toward me, hands behind his back and indecent intent simmering in his eyes.
“I wondered where you went.” I straighten, watching him watch my reflection.
“You’ve been teasing me for hours.” He presses up behind me and dips his mouth to my neck.
“Teasing you? I was working.”
His hands sweep up the fronts of my thighs and slip under the dress. “I’ve been staring at your legs along with every other son of a bitch in that room.” His thumbs trace the crotch of my panties. “Do you know how cruel that is?” He roughly pulls my butt against the swollen length in his jeans. “It’s fucking painful.”
I groan at the feel of his hardness against me. “We can’t have sex, Decker.”
His eyes stay on mine in the mirror as he grabs the front of my panties and yanks hard enough to rip the seams.
The scrap of lace falls down my legs and tangles around my ankles.
I flatten my hands on the counter. “If you fuck me, I’ll get attached.” I’m already attached.
He kisses my neck, his breath hot and seductive. His fingers slide between my legs, slipping deeper and deeper with each wicked stroke through my folds.
With a moan, I let my head tilt to the side, giving him better access. “I’ll get needy.” I’m already needy.
He sinks two fingers into my wetness and gently thrusts his hand. “I’m about to be attached and needy inside your dripping pussy.”
His other hand moves to his belt. The clink of the buckle races my pulse. The slide of his zipper quickens my breaths.
“For how long, Decker? What happens at the end of the agreement?” I writhe on the fingers curling inside me, warring with the need to grind against his hand and shove it away. “You’ll move on to younger, fresher pastures, and I’ll—”
“Shut the fuck up, Laynee.”
“If we weren’t under a binding legal agreement, I would totally fire you right now.”
He bites the back of my dress, pinching the skin beneath, right over the worst of my scars.
With every battered beat of my heart, I know I should tell him to fuck off and end this. But I can’t. He gives me exactly what I crave. His dominant position over me makes my blood sing. His cocky personality and powerful body gives me confidence by proxy. And he doesn’t pretend my scars don’t exist. He forces me to confront them.
I’m not whole on my own, but when I have him at my side, I feel unstoppable. If I let this man put his cock in me, I’ll feel connected, loved, complete. I won’t ever be able to let go.
His fingers leave my pussy, and clothing rustles behind me. He strips out of both shirts and flips up the skirt of my dress. His gaze drops, lingering on my bare ass for a moment that stretches into several more. His dark eyes flick to my reflection, back to my butt, and he lowers out of view in the mirror.
Without warning, he plunges his fingers into my pussy from behind. I gasp at the burst of pleasure, lifting on my toes and collapsing over the counter of the vanity. He runs his teeth across my ass, nibbling and licking as he fingers me into trembling breathlessness.
“I’m going to fuck you without a condom.” He glides his lips downward and buries his mouth between my legs, curling his tongue and pushing me toward that blissful edge. “It’ll be a first for me.”
I press my heated cheek against the cold counter and try to focus on his words. “You’ve never had sex without a condom?”
“No.” His palm slams against my ass, shooting a stinging fire across my skin.
“What the hell was that for?” I crane my neck to glare at him.
“For making me wait a month for this.”
He spanks my other cheek, and the force of it knocks me against the counter, clattering brushes and hair products to the floor.
“Stop!” I pant through the vicious burn, hating that I love the way it turns me on and inside out. “That’s a hard limit. No physical pain or—”
His hand collides with my ass three more times in rapid succession. I fight him, fight my desire for him, and lose shamefully. Arousal leaks down my thighs as he holds me against the edge of the counter, against t
he edge of orgasm, and strikes my ass again and again.
My husky cry is cut off with his hand over my mouth, then his lips as he kisses me into a boneless puddle. With his body bowed over my back and his fingers in my pussy, he grips his cock and rubs the broad head across my backside, down my hip, and slides it between my legs. It’s so hot and hard it feels like a fire iron driving through my folds.
I want it. I fucking need it rough and deep and right now, but I manage to gather enough brain cells to say, “Just the tip.”
With a harsh laugh, he fists my hair, wrenches my head to the side, and breathes heavily, fiercely, against my neck. “I’m already all in. This is just a technicality.”
Then he thrusts, burying himself to the root.
I choke on a soundless scream as my body stretches around his girth. He groans deeply, gutturally, and his hands fly to my hips, yanking me tighter against him as his forehead drops to my spine.
Holy fuck, he’s thick and huge and hard. So fucking hard I’m certain my cervix just rammed into my stomach.
“Goddamn, Laynee.” He plows into me with ruthless strokes. “I feel everything. Every ridge inside you. Every tight clench. It’s so good. So damn good.” He stares down at where we’re joined, grunting with each thrust and sighing through every exhale. “Wish you could see this. The way your cunt grips my cock. It’s fucking perfect.”
My nipples harden, and my lungs slam together. I feel him throbbing inside me, swelling and lengthening as I clamp down around him. His groans are like a drug. The tremors in his hands are the elixir. He’s affected by this, by me, and his intoxicating responses feed my addiction.
He kicks my feet apart, adjusting my body the way he wants it, and drives his hips into a frantic rhythm. “Look at me.”
The moment I meet his eyes in the mirror, I know I’ve lost. His expression is so full of passion and devotion as he watches my reflection. My stupid heart pounds in my throat, fully engaged and begging for forever.
Don’t hurt me.
He tangles his fingers in my hair and brings his mouth to the corner of mine.
Don’t leave me.