by Maggie Marr
The guy beside me was blond and tall and could dance. He stepped behind me and pressed his body into mine. I leaned back and surrendered to the music, to the beat, to the hot sweat that dripped down my neck, to this guy’s hands that roamed up the sides of my dress as we danced. I threw my head back and smiled. My hair stuck to my neck; I’d twisted it up on top of my head a half dozen times, but it kept falling to my shoulders. I didn’t care. I didn’t care that his hands were all over my body. I didn’t care that Dillon looked at me like I was nothing. I didn’t care that the last seven nights I’d fallen asleep thinking about what it would feel like to press my body against his chest, to run my fingers across his broad back. I didn’t care that when I thought of Dillon and his hands and his lips and his eyes that hard hot tingles pulsed through me. All I cared about was this moment. In this moment, I cared about dancing and feeling so incredibly free.
Dillon
Webber and Ryan were already at the club when I pulled up in my Rover. They were just ahead of me at the valet. Two girls chatted up Ryan while Webber, still in his suit from being at the agency, scrolled on his phone. That guy was always working. Even with two hotties clinging to Ryan and four more looking to score, Webber couldn’t pull away from work mode.
“Hey man,” Ryan said. He slapped my hand. The hot smell of whiskey was on his breath and his voice was already thick with booze. Two girls molded to his side. One was a redhead in a pink dress and the other a dark-skinned, dark-haired beauty in black leather pants. Both of them could have been models. The hottest women on the planet lived in L.A. Most nights, I’d peel one off Ryan or let one of the other four checking me out cling to me, but tonight I wasn’t feeling it. I hadn’t been feeling it for nearly a week. I needed to get back into my groove, to find a girl to relieve some of the tension that threaded through me, because the girl I kept seeing when I closed my eyes wasn’t an option.
“Hey,” I said.
Ryan leaned forward. “The action is smokin’ tonight.”
I knew what he meant. The girls were hot and willing. I ran my eyes over a blonde.
She sauntered toward me and pressed to my side.
“Hey, Dillon,” she cooed.
Her big baby blues gazed up at me through her eyelashes. I put my arm around her. This was a start. This fit my image. This was a way to keep Lane out of my head.
*
I said hi to Viggo and walked into the club. Two seconds later, I had a girl under each arm. On my left was the blonde and on my right a black-haired beauty who claimed to have worked on my first film, Mission Ranger, with me. I wouldn’t argue. She wore one of those bandage dresses in jet black. Her hair was long and luscious and danced over my wrist as I clasped my arm around her. Her lips were lush and cherry red. I grew hard thinking about what I would put between those lips later tonight.
I skirted the dance floor and made my way to my table. The couch was clear, but I knew Choo’d been there because there were raspberries in a bowl beside the vodka. The Choo special. I didn’t want a Choo special. I wanted whiskey neat.
The brunette poured me a drink and settled under my arm and onto the couch. Webber stood beside Ryan, both of them sucking on whiskey and scoping the scene. I glanced out at the dance floor. I had two girls to take care of me tonight. I didn’t need to worry about acting on any of those dirty little thoughts about Lane that climbed through my mind. I didn’t need to shove any feelings away. I didn’t have feelings—not for women. Feelings were a luxury I couldn’t afford.
I glanced at the floor and saw my brother. He was pressed up against Jackson. The guy had become semi-regular for Choo. He was a sports agent and repped athletes. They were on the dance floor with a bunch of Choo’s friends.
No Dorothy.
I scanned the club without being obvious. Gold high heels flashed, long lean legs, a twirl of caramel-colored hair. A big hand groped up the side of that tiny thing she called a dress.
Adrenaline burst through me. The muscles in my jaw tensed. I fisted my hands but held them tight to my thighs. I could play this cool. I leaned back. My stomach clenched as my eyes locked on Dorothy. I nodded at something Webber said and pretended to listen to his words. I tossed a smile toward Ryan and put an arm around each girl to my side. My eyes returned to Dorothy.
The blond-haired guy she was dancing with pushed in tight behind her. His hand skirted up her thigh. He pulled her against him hard and fast. My heart jolted and I shot to my feet.
Webber jerked his head up from reading an e-mail. His gaze bounced toward me. “What’s up, man?” He followed my gaze toward the dance floor. “Oh right, the hot piece of ass with your brother? She is totally wasted on Choo, you know what I mean?”
Ryan edged closer and followed Webber’s gaze. Lane pressed her ass against the guy behind her. What was she trying to do?
“Dude, that chick is killin’ me.” Ryan pressed his hand against his heart. “You know that’s Dillon’s new reader.” He pointed toward the dance floor and nudged his elbow into my arm. “There is no way you’re not tappin’ that.”
I fought the urge to slam my fist through Ryan’s drunk face.
“I met her last week,” Webber said. “Shit man, I’m sorry. Guess another reader will bite the dust. I’ll keep looking for a guy, because I don’t know how you’ll ever be able not to hit that.”
Lane pressed against the guy’s chest and his hands ran over her bare back. This was not cool. Anger surged through me and thumped in my chest. Choo shrugged his shoulder as though Dorothy and her dirty dancing was not his problem. This was so his problem. Choo created this mess. Ryan and Webber watched like two hounds in heat. I didn’t need this shit. I didn’t need the entire club thinking that Lane was either a whore or an easy piece.
*
“Excuse me,” I said and grabbed Lane above the elbow. The douche she’d been dirty dancing with scowled, then he locked eyes with me. “You got a problem?” I pushed into his face while I kept hold of Lane.
He backed away with both hands held high like I was robbing him.
“What… what?” Lane’s eyes widened and her perfect pout of a mouth turned into an O as I steered her toward the far side of the dance floor. Away from Webber and Ryan, away from Choo, away from anyone I knew and into a corner of the club.
Blood thundered in my head. Why would she dance that way? How could she dance that way?
I backed her against the wall and placed one hand on either side of her head. She wouldn’t leave until I was done, until I finished telling her exactly how it was going to be.
She turned her face to me. Surprise shot through her eyes and then anger. Her gaze was sharp and her lips were pursed. She was a tiny bit wobbly on those too-high heels.
“What was that?” I asked. I pushed my face close to hers. “Some kind of show you want to put on?”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Her neck, damn that pretty little neck, was an inch from my lips. My eyes slipped over her collarbone and toward those pretty tits that were crushed against the front of her dress. This corner of the club was dark, but I still saw the tiniest red flush come up over her golden skin.
“I was dancing.” Her tone was an attempt at tough. “We dance in Kansas.” She tilted her smart mouth toward mine.
The image of that guy’s hands all over that pretty little body pumped through my mind. I leaned closer. My lips were near hers. I saw the flutter of her pulse and felt the shortness of her breath. I hadn’t touched her and yet my cock throbbed. I pressed my lips close to her ear, so close that a tiny gasp of air sucked over her lips. The heat from her flicked over my skin. Her tongue licked her bottom lip and she shifted her body. Energy, want, pure desire burned through me.
“I think you’re a little out of your league,” I whispered into her ear. I took the pad of my thumb and pressed it to the corner of her raspberry-stained lips. I leaned in. With her fast breath her breasts pressed into me, I whispered the words. I let the air of each one caress her ear. �
�Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard, Dorothy.”
The color dropped from her face. “Get away from me.” She pushed at my chest and her bottom lip quivered. She stomped toward the door of the club. I’d hurt her with that comment, but I wouldn’t have to watch every guy in this club ogle her for the rest of the night.
Chapter 9
Lane
Tears flooded my eyes. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t catch my breath. I pushed past the crowd edging the dance floor. I pressed through the bodies. Why did Dillon hate me so much? Why would he embarrass me like that? Why did I care so much what he thought? I bit my bottom lip. This wouldn’t work. It would never work. I couldn’t—
“Hey.” Choo grabbed me. “What’s wrong?” Confusion swept across his face and worry inhabited his gaze. “You were there and then you were gone.”
I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t speak poorly about his brother. Dillon was Choo’s only family. Still, I felt like an idiot. According to Dillon, not only could I not drive but I couldn’t dance right either.
“Nothing,” I sputtered out. “I just… I just—” My eyes darted past Choo where Dillon stood between his agent and his costar. His gaze locked on mine. Four girls that looked like models lounged on the couch behind them. Four girls that seemed to be the type of girl Dillon wanted and needed for his image. Beautiful girls with the right hair and the right clothes—girls who looked like they belonged in L.A. in a club with one of the hottest guys in town. Girls that didn’t look like they were from some fly-over state that no one from California could probably locate if given a map.
His stare was hard and cold. There was no emotion. Nothing. Just an empty gaze. That emptiness hurt worse than the anger I’d seen a few minutes before. At least with the anger, I knew Dillon felt something, but that hard cold look seemed to say I meant less than nothing.
A deep breath shuddered through me. I pulled my gaze away from Dillon. My eyes locked with Choo’s. I loved Choo; he was my friend. He’d saved me, but right now I couldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t tell him why these emotions were churning through me.
“I just don’t feel very good,” I said.
Choo bit his bottom lip. He was worried, but I didn’t want to ruin his night out. He and Jackson didn’t get to spend much time together with Choo’s job at the agency, and they were having such a good time.
“I think…” My gaze darted from Choo toward Dillon, then back to Choo. “I think I’m going to go home, okay?”
“Are you sure?” Choo asked. “I’ll come with you.”
I shook my head no. “Please stay. I’m seriously going to take an ibuprofen and go to bed. I know it’s just because I’m tired.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. I was sure. I was sure I needed to get away from Dillon and I was sure that I wanted Choo to stay with Jackson and have a great time. I was very, very sure.
“Okay.” Choo walked me toward the door. He’d texted Bob, and within a minute, the car was waiting on the other side of the glass. Choo leaned down gave me a tight squeeze and a peck on each cheek. “Call me if you need anything.”
I smiled, nodded¸ and shook my head yes, knowing that no matter what, I wouldn’t call.
*
My eyes fluttered open. I kicked my foot out from under the comforter on my bed. I’d had trouble falling asleep when I got back to the house. I flipped over my cell phone and glanced at the time—it was 2:07 a.m. and I was wide-awake.
Kong lay curled up on the pillow beside me while Scorsese and Spielberg slept at the foot of my bed. Bernie lay lengthwise beside me like a human. I ran my hand across Bernie’s thick fur. My heart hurt. Last week I’d felt bad for Dillon. I’d felt bad that he was trapped in a horrible place between his parents and his brother. Parents who, from what it sounded like, wouldn’t accept Choo for who he was, but yet still wanted to be a part of Dillon’s life.
But tonight?
Tonight I didn’t feel bad for Dillon. I felt angry and hurt and shocked at how intense all my feelings were. There were two Dillons and I kept ping-ponging between them. There was the guy who’d humiliated me when I was lost and then made me feel embarrassed again tonight. Frustration spiked through my chest as the feeling of embarrassment flooded through me with the two memories.
Then there was the other Dillon. The guy who’d rescued four dogs. The guy who smiled and gave me the keys to his car. The guy who was sexy as hell and seemed interested in what I had to say. That was the Dillon my heart hurt for. That was the Dillon I wanted to know and be around. That Dillon seemed to pop out, be wildly nice, and then immediately disappear. Maybe I was lucky that the sweet version of Dillon wasn’t around more. The jerky version I could work for and ignore.
He wasn’t someone who wanted a relationship. Already, I’d seen him with a multitude of different women. Dillon MacAvoy wanted me to walk his dogs and read his scripts. I brushed a stray hair back from my forehead. Something about Dillon pressed hard against my heart. I was drawn to him. When he’d grabbed my arm tonight, heat had jolted through me. When he’d whispered in my ear, even with the awful words he said, I still couldn’t catch my breath with him so near. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel those giant hands on my body, stroking over me where no one had stroked before.
“Oh, yessss.”
A moan drifted up from the yard. When I’d gotten home, I’d taken two ibuprofen and pulled open my balcony doors before I’d gone to bed. I’d hoped the fresh air would cool my body and my mind.
“Please, yesss.”
My heart clenched and I scrunched my eyes closed. A hard, sick feeling lodged in my belly. The voice was female. There was only one man in this house who could cause a woman to moan like that.
“Yes, please, Dillon. Please.”
I didn’t want to hear this. I couldn’t stand to hear this. I slid my foot to the floor beneath my bed. I wouldn’t look. Looking would be so bad. I pressed forward across the floor to the balcony doors. I would pull the doors closed and then please, hopefully, I wouldn’t have to hear the things I definitely didn’t want to hear.
I placed my hand on the knob of the door, but instead of pulling the door closed, my body moved forward. My heart accelerated as though it would burst through my ribs. What would I see? My foot stepped out on to the balcony. Every good part of me screamed don’t do it, don’t look down, but every part that was curious had to peer over the balcony. I had to see.
I looked over the edge. The pool lights were on and an aqua glow lit the yard. The girl with the long black hair was bent over the outdoor lounger. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open. Her tongue flicked over her lips as soft, deep moans flowed from her mouth. Pleasure rushed across her face. She was naked. Barebacked. Her breasts rocked rhythmically and her ink-black hair fell to the side of her face.
Behind her was Dillon. His hands clasped her naked waist with a tight grip. My fingertips covered my mouth. His face was clenched and his head rolled from side to side as he pumped his body into her. The muscles of his chest glistened. His biceps tightened. He threw his head back and opened his eyes.
Our gazes locked. His blue eyes seared through me—I was frozen. I couldn’t move. Heat surged through me while my eyes were anchored to him. Heat that pooled in my belly and between my legs. My heart pounded. The world tilted with the thought that burst into my brain.
I wanted to be that girl.
A growl coursed over his lips as he pumped into her and stared at me. Tingles cascaded over my skin. I wanted Dillon to strain and growl and be inside me. I’d never been any of that to any man, but I wanted to be that for Dillon.
I watched as she moaned and pressed backward. I watched as he thrust hard into her.
“Yes, yes!” the girl yelled.
The sound of her voice broke my trance. I jumped backward into the darkness of my room. I shouldn’t have watched. I shouldn’t want this.
Dillon
The girl didn’t spend the night. I didn’t want her to. I didn�
��t know her name, hadn’t even asked. I wouldn’t remember her face—didn’t care to. I’d used her to forget. I’d thought if I shoved my cock into her, that I wouldn’t see those turquoise eyes flecked with green. Those eyes had been laced with pain. Those eyes had been tear-filled and hurt. Those same eyes that had watched me with the girl. Instead of erasing those eyes, those lips, that face, while I’d been with the girl, there’d been only one face, only one smile, only one set of eyes, only one scent that pulsed through me while I pumped in and out of her—Lane.
I scrubbed my hand through my hair and let the hot jets of water wash over me. I was sick. I was depraved. Don’t get me wrong—sex felt good, it felt damn good—and that girl, I knew she’d been hot, but she wasn’t Lane. I tilted my head back under the water and scrubbed my hand through my hair. Hot water and soap couldn’t clean away who I was, what I was, what I was becoming. I was an actor; I would be a star. I was every girl’s fantasy and every girl’s dream. I didn’t have the type of life that a girl like Lane deserved. I couldn’t commit, didn’t want to. I wanted to make movies, make money, and make certain my parents never bothered my brother again. No, I wasn’t right for Lane and never would be. Lane Channing deserved more than I could give her.
I turned off the jets of water and wrapped a towel around my waist, then stepped out of the shower and turned toward the steamed mirror. I wiped it clean and looked into that face of mine. The hard, cold eyes of a man who would never get the chance to love a good girl like Lane Channing stared back. Sometimes I hated that guy.
Chapter 10
Lane
No matter what time I fell asleep, the fellas had me up by six a.m. They were better than an alarm clock. They needed their walks. Bernie nudged my elbow. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to drag myself out of bed. The image of Dillon’s eyes drunk on lust flitted through my brain. I pictured the girl naked and slamming her body against his. Jealousy stabbed my chest.