A New York Minute

by Ember Leigh

  She sat up to meet his gaze. He was silent, waiting for her to say something, to validate his confession. Josh picked at something on the comforter, eyes darting between her face and the bed.

  “Cute.” Something in the air shifted between them. Electricity snapped. This was no business ploy.

  Suddenly their lips were together, though she didn’t know who moved in first. Josh pinned her to the bed, one kiss melting into a hundred more. His mouth devoured her. The scent of him descended upon her, a mixture of cologne and the outdoors and man she hadn’t expected would be so pleasing. He clutched at her desperately—her hips, her waist, the small of her back, like he was afraid she would disappear beneath him. His hard-on nudged her low hip, and her pussy clenched in response.

  “Josh.” The feel of his body made her both dizzy and delirious with satisfaction. Excitement roiled beneath the surface of her skin. Dear God, you wanted this so much, Paige.

  “I’ve wanted this to happen since the day I met you,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers up and down her spine.

  “So have I,” she admitted, too quickly for her own taste.

  He laughed, deep and gravelly. His green eyes sparkled—the mask of his professional façade had completely fallen away. She loved this real Josh above her. He was so boyish yet mature, hard-bodied yet gentle.

  “But Paige, I thought you hated me.”

  “What makes you think I still don’t?” She placed tiny kisses up and down the sides of his neck. Kissing him removed the veneer of his professional side, allowed her to peer behind the curtain to the soft core inside. A regular guy with power, a west coast boy with dreams. Wiping away the Hollywood lacquer revealed something even more attractive beneath.

  “Well, this certainly doesn’t look like you hate me,” he whispered, fingertips trailing down the side of her face, over the dip in her neck, making swirls in the area between her breasts.

  “I’m a good actress.” She could barely control her breathing to keep her voice even. This man affected her in ways she hadn’t felt in far too long. “If I couldn’t convince you, I wouldn’t be a professional.”

  He quieted her stubbornness with a kiss so tender yet passionate that a new round of shivers erupted within her. Holy crap, I’m in trouble.

  “So I won’t wake up tomorrow and think this was a dream, then.” His fingertips crept beneath the fabric of her bathing suit top, so slowly she could scream. He was going slow for a reason—teasing her, maybe, but also to make sure she really wanted it.

  This was the only thing she wanted right now.

  The warmth of his palm grazed her breast. Their eyes met, his gaze glinting with both tenderness and something animalistic. It was something she could imagine in her own eyes, a certain brand of pleasure from having finally given into something deeply pleasurable and forbidden.

  His fingertips rolled back and forth across her nipple and he caught her mouth on a gasp. Their tongues met tenderly. The feel of his body pressed against hers, his hands all over her, drove her crazier than any man had ever done before. And he hadn’t even taken off his shirt.

  The heat between her legs ached for release.

  “I could spend all day in here with you.” His other hand snaked around the small of her back and yanked her toward him, eliciting a gasp and a giggle. “All week, all month.”

  “And what would we do in here for a full month?” Her voice wavered as his hand made a slow crawl up her thigh. “We wouldn’t have enough food to last us a week.”

  His fingers tiptoed toward her bathing suit bottoms. “That’s why there’s room service.”

  She swallowed hard as the tips of his fingers slipped beneath the fabric. “Well I suppose that could work.” His gaze consumed her as he moved his hand over her mons. Her breath halted in her chest, afraid that the smallest breath might interrupt this heavenly order of events.

  “Do you want me to keep going?”

  She jerked her head into a nod. “Please.”

  He dragged his thumb down from her mons to the tight peak of her clit. Her breath hitched, pleasure radiating through her. His eyes glinted with satisfaction.

  Paige let out a low moan and moved against his hand. His chest rose and fell quickly at her side as his fingers slipped and pinched at her clit. His cock was a thick ridge beneath his pants, a delicious confirmation of what she’d glimpsed in the sauna.

  Josh swooped down for a kiss and their tongues met hesitantly. Her mind swirled with incredulity. The one thing she’d wanted most, in the deepest most secret part of her, was unfolding like a forbidden dream.

  He slipped a finger inside her dripping pussy, and she moaned low. His lips danced over her jawline and to the curve of her neck. “You like that?”

  His question seemed like a test; another way for her to confirm that this wasn’t some island delirium or a temporary black-out caused by the heat. She dug her nails into his bicep, pulled him closer. Like it? Not even close.

  As Paige opened her mouth to reply, her phone rang. She jerked at the sudden noise.

  “Don’t get it.”

  She looked over at the phone with dismay. Her brain refused to focus on anything other than the scorching heat of his fingers hovering over her pussy. “I have to.”

  It rang again.

  Josh dragged his lips across her cheek before she scooted to the side of the bed.

  “Hello?”

  “Um…Paige?” It was Gary. “Did I interrupt something?”

  Josh lay on the bed with his arm over his face. She squeezed her eyes shut. Shouldn’t have happened. Oh, God. What have I done? “No, not at all.”

  “Have you seen Josh?”

  Her mind froze. “Um, no.”

  “We’re looking for him. Bridgette is throwing a hissy fit because he’s not at the pool with her, and the crew needs to brief him on tomorrow’s tech aspect.”

  “If I see him, I’ll tell him.”

  “Thanks, cakes.”

  She replaced the phone and let a thick silence ensconce the room.

  “You need to leave,” she said after a few moments. “Bridgette’s on the hunt for you, along with the tech crew.”

  Pain slashed his face. “I’m not a bad guy.”

  His words struck a chord within her, though she wasn’t sure if he was responding to what he imagined she thought of him, or something private to himself. Who the hell is this guy on the inside? “I didn’t say a word.”

  His green eyes shimmered with something unknown. She wanted to probe, she wanted to ask questions. She also wanted to shove him out of her room and never have to face this temptation again.

  Another thick silence settled between them, her pussy throbbing. He sighed and sat up.

  “Let’s just forget this happened,” Paige spat out. She grabbed a robe hanging on the back of the door and tied it around herself. “It’ll be our secret, okay?”

  He watched her with a firm jaw. She held his gaze, despite the amount of strength it took to hold fast to her words.

  “Sure.” His eyes smoldered on her skin. “After all, it’s not like anyone would believe me if I told them.”

  “Excellent. So I’ll see you tomorrow.” She ignored the memory of his cock running into her hip, but it refused to disappear from her mind’s eye.

  He nodded and let himself out of the room.

  Josh Lambert was infuriating. Paige tore the robe off and flopped onto her bed once more, catching a whiff of his scent on the comforter. She groaned into the bedspread, wishing he were between her legs again, smoothing those impossibly soft lips all over her body.

  He was infuriating because he challenged a status quo she wasn’t willing to change, and the more she got to know him, the less easy it was to hate him. Somehow, she hated him more for that.

  The heat between her legs was impossible to bear. It throbbed with each heartbeat, taunting her with the pleasure that had almost been hers. It reminded her of the completely gorgeous man sharing a very tiny island with h
er, and the insurmountable task of keeping herself off him.

  You want him or you don’t. Pick one and stick with it.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, there was only one thing Paige could decide on: frustration. She was positive she hadn’t dreamed the encounter with Josh. Her lips still tingled on her way to the set, and she swore his touch had left marks on her, like she’d been bruised by the passion. But what made it worse was that she hadn’t caught as much as a single glance from Josh that morning. Nothing to acknowledge that maybe, somehow, somewhere inside him he’d fallen victim to an intense moment of passion.

  His run-throughs went smoothly, his smiles and jokes were on as usual. Maybe late-night rendezvous’ with recently-demoted anchorwomen was a pastime in which he regularly partook. No matter what the gossip said otherwise.

  As Paige got ready to film her segment, Josh called for a half-hour break on the main set. Most of the crewmembers dispersed. She disappeared into the newsroom, eager to escape his domineering presence.

  She settled in front of the camera, smoothing her skirt as she scanned the subject headings one last time. Once the crew had finished their preparations, they flagged her for the countdown.

  “Here we go Paige. Work your magic.” A crew worker gave her the thumbs up, and she launched into the segment.

  During a transition from camera A to camera B, Josh entered the room. She flicked her eyes in his direction, noticing the way the breeze of the outside air made his button-up flutter against his belly, and commanded herself back into the moment. While the words continued to roll off her tongue, Josh planted himself next to the camera man—eyes on her, arms crossed over his chest, unmoving. A goddamn gorgeous statue.

  She prayed the heat in her cheeks wouldn’t show on the film. Keep it together. After a few moments, the giddy convulsions receded and the smooth, collected control overtook her mind once more. Someone approached Josh; they conferred quietly, and then he tore off his shirt.

  In a searing flash, Paige’s mind went blank. All she could focus on were his sculpted abs. Then the tiny trail of hair leading below the waist of his pants. The way those kisses had danced against her jaw line last night…

  Talk, Paige, talk!

  She blinked. Another glimpse at his shirtless body, and God help her, her mind had lost the signal to her eyeballs. Her mouth flapped but nothing came out. From the sidelines, confusion clouded Gary’s face.

  “Sorry guys. I gotta start over.” Her face burned. This was certainly different than the precedent she’d set with this crew. The flub felt serious, like checking text messages while driving and narrowly missing an oncoming semi. She drew in a shaky breath and offered a small smile. Josh looked smug.

  He sauntered over to her, his shirt hooked on his finger. “I hope I didn’t distract you.”

  Dear Lord, make this man put on a shirt. “It wasn’t because of you,” she assured him, catching a whiff of his cologne.

  “But Paige…you never mess up.”

  She wanted to slap the smile off his face. “Leave me alone.”

  He strutted away from her, twirling his shirt in his hand. The light caressed his sculpted muscles, shoulders flexing with every movement. He was a goddamn cocky Michelangelo and she’d pay an exorbitant fee to gaze upon the art. Paige’s breath caught, and she forced herself to refocus on the papers in her hands.

  “All right. Ready?” The camera worker nodded to her. “Here we go.”

  She launched into her segment, using every ounce of willpower to block out Josh’s body. The second attempt flowed smoothly, partly thanks to Josh’s decision to wear the new shirt he’d been given. After the crew called it a wrap, she decided she needed a brisk walk, full of salty air and lots of ocean roar.

  “Paige, what happened?” Gary called good-naturedly, jogging up behind her. “Little slip of the tongue?”

  She forced a smile. “I didn’t get much sleep last night…”

  “Ah.” He nodded, looking like he was going to say something else but didn’t. “Understandable. Probably the first time I’ve seen you mess up like that in…I don’t know how long.”

  She gritted her teeth. And you have Josh Lambert to thank for that. “It won’t happen again, Gary.”

  “Hey, you’re only human, right? Messing up is okay. I’ll see you later.” He waved and exited the building, a gust of hot air sneaking in. Sure, she was human, but hearing that somehow reinforced her failure.

  “Don’t worry, Paige.” Josh’s voice came from behind her. “I won’t do that again.”

  She set her jaw, facing Josh without meeting his gaze. “It wasn’t you. I’m just tired.”

  “I mean, I won’t do that again. What happened last night.”

  Her thoughts froze along with her body. To look him in the eye would reveal all her emotions, mainly her sudden disappointment that he didn’t want to continue the rendezvous.

  “Good,” was all she could think to say.

  “That’s what you want, right?”

  She kept her eyes fastened to the floor. “Correct.”

  “There’s the Paige I know,” Josh said, a bit quieter. “Back to hating me.”

  She didn’t respond and opened the door. There was a confusing mix of emotions within her; surprise that he’d offered to end their romantic rendezvous so easily, like their connection the day before hadn’t been sizzling and game changing. But none of that mattered. One thing was for certain: her incognito infatuation with Josh Lambert was officially over.

  ****

  Josh and Bridgette had been reviewing lines for the next day’s show for what felt like hours. Progress with Bridgette always went slower than normal, but tonight it was held back even more by infrequent cough attacks. After a particularly bad one, Josh arched an eyebrow. “Are you getting sick?”

  She sniffled, eyes watery. “No. I’m just stressed. Paige pisses me off so much.”

  Josh fought the urge to roll his eyes. Since their spat at lunch, Bridgette had been crusading even harder against Paige. Their rivalry consumed her. “What did she do this time?”

  She settled back into the pillows, pursing her lips. “I could just feel how smug she was when she heard our ratings for the second show had fallen from our debut episode.”

  Josh shrugged. “She’s not exactly on our side, you know.”

  “Someone needs to tell her she can’t have everything she wants,” Bridgette spat.

  Josh frowned. This, coming from you? “She works hard, at least. She’s an asset to the team.”

  “Asset?” She laughed harshly. “Whatever. I’m sick of seeing her royal talk show highness strutting around the island like she owns it. This is my show, Joshi. Mine.”

  Josh took a deep breath, a headache beginning a torturous crawl across his forehead. Ownership of shows and projects was common in his field; he’d dealt with it enough times to know the cycle. But he was losing patience. He had no idea Bridgette would transform into a greedy show-hog so quickly. Before production, she was open to new ideas and conferred openly about her amateur status. Now, even mentioning the word ‘amateur’ was a fast route to a hissy fit.

  “I know you and Paige haven’t been on the best of terms,” he said, measuring the distance between his words as he searched for the perfect phrasing. “But the way you act around her sometimes makes me wonder if there isn’t…a history.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “A history? Like you mean when I interned under her at her stupid show and she treated me like shit?”

  Jackpot. Now it made more sense. But why hadn’t Paige ever mentioned knowing Bridgette before? “When did you work at her show?”

  “A couple years ago, when I was finishing up the broadcasting mentoring group.” She sniffled, pressing two fingertips to her forehead. “They placed me in an internship at her stupid show, but I left early. I couldn’t stand being around her. Just my luck she shows up on the island.” She looked pointedly at Josh and a terse sigh escaped him.

  He
was curious to know more, but his desire to get out of her room and into his own breathing space was stronger. “Listen, you get rested up.” He tossed the script for the next day’s show on the table between them. “I’m gonna head down to the pool. I need to talk to Gary, and I’m sure that’s where he is.” But you won’t go visit Paige…

  “Are you sure you don’t want to spend some more time here?” Bridgette’s tone had none of the disdain from when she’d been talking about Paige. “We can order a bottle of wine or something.”

  “I think I better call it a night as well,” he said. “Once I touch base with Gary about some contractual stuff, I’m gonna turn in.”

  Her mouth turned down as she fingered a piece of hair. “Well, if you get bored later, come find me.”

  “Goodnight, Bridgette.” He ruffled her hair before he left, knowing exactly what she hoped for and exactly what he turned down. Bridgette’s affection for him was obvious—to him and everyone within a ten mile radius. At a moment’s notice she’d be willing to drop everything and give him whatever he asked for—back rubs, frequent sex, lifelong companionship, even children for God’s sake.

  But he didn’t want what she had on the table, and he never would. If he was honest with himself, Paige’s unexpected appearance in his life had changed the game more than he cared to admit.

  Josh was a man of aesthetics—he preferred his wines fine and his women finer—but Paige had it all. She was smoking hot, and smarter than anyone he’d met in his field. Though they’d chosen different paths within the same career, she had a determination to match his own. Sometimes, looking at her was like looking in the mirror—though that mirror could switch from a common bathroom mirror to a funhouse mirror without warning. With Paige in his vicinity, it was hard to see Bridgette the way he once had.

  Josh sauntered toward the elevator, half-decided to turn around and go knock on Paige’s door. He was proud of himself for responding diplomatically to Paige’s wishes—if she chose to put a cap on their love affair, so be it—but he was eating his words now, dying to visit her and finish what they’d started last night.