“You just went limp in my arms. I’m not really sure.”
“Did I pass out?” I ask slowly.
“I think so. Maybe. For a second or two.”
“Oh my God, how embarrassing.” I think that I say it silently, or at least under my breath. But apparently, I didn’t.
“No, it’s not. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I need to get myself together. I sit up in my seat and straighten out my dress. As if that’s going to make everything better. I take a sip of water.
Then I look up at him. He’s still there. He hasn’t moved. He’s sitting before me with one knee on the floor. The position that men take when they’re about to propose. I take his hands into mine and lift him up into his seat.
“I’m fine, really,” I say. His face shows some relief. The lines in between his eyebrows straighten out, and a small smile forms on his mouth. I never noticed this before, but his smile is a little crooked. One side of his mouth goes up a little higher than the other. It’s endearing and beautiful. I have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, but I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day.
A few strands of hair fall into his eyes. He pushes them back into place. His eyes catch the light, and I see my bewildered face in them.
“I think I need to go home,” I say. “You gave a wonderful speech. Thank you for inviting me to see it.”
He shakes his head. Is that a tinge of disappointment on his face? No, it couldn’t be.
“Okay, I’ll walk you to the valet.”
I’m about to fight him on it, but I can’t say no to a few more minutes with him. For a moment, he stops being Finn Dalton, the movie star, in my mind and becomes Finn, a really hot guy who I think I like. No, I know I like him. But then my mind snaps back into place. He isn’t just some guy asking to walk me to the valet. He’s still a movie star, and a movie star isn’t going to be interested in me. At least, not this one. I’ve seen the tabloids. I’ve seen the girls he has dated. I’ve seen pictures of Ariel Chantal. No, he’s just being a nice guy. Finn is just an incredibly nice guy.
We walk out of the building arm in arm. Finn takes me by my arm and doesn’t let go until I hand the valet my ticket.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” he asks. I nod.
“Thank you very much for tonight,” I say turning to him. “You know, you’re a great guy.”
“Oh yeah?” he smirks. There’s that sexy arrogance again.
“Yeah. This night could’ve been really crappy. Being stood up and all. And not just as some dinner date. A fucking black tie event! Honestly, it sort of felt like I was stood up at prom. But then you came. And invited me to hear you speak. I just want to thank you for doing all that now. Because I might forget to do it at work.”
Finn looks straight into my eyes. He tilts his head a little. We are standing so close to one another I can feel his breath on my lips. He runs his fingers along my neck. Ever so softly. I hold my breath. Then he runs his fingers over my bottom lip. He casts his eyes toward my lips and then back to mine, as if he’s asking permission to kiss me. I close my eyes and wait.
“Ma’am? Your car?” someone says. The valet! The fucking valet! What is he doing here? He broke the spell between us. I want to get into my car and drive over him for doing this. I would be justified. There’s no way that any jury would ever convict me if they heard all the details of the moment that he just ruined. Instead of doing that, I nod and smile and pull away from Finn.
“Thank you,” I say politely. I take the ticket and look in my purse for a tip. As I walk over to the driver’s side door of my sister’s beat up Honda, I suddenly realize that I have to walk back to the passenger’s side to get into it. Turning around, my heel lands right into the large crack in the ground. I stumble and grab onto the car to catch myself.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Finn runs over to me.
“What?”
“I’m going to give her a ride,” he says decisively to the valet before I can even respond. There’s no question. There’s just the statement.
“Can you please put this car back in the parking lot? We’ll get it tomorrow,” Finn says, handing the valet some money. “And here’s my ticket.”
I follow Finn back to the bench in front of the hotel to wait for the valet to come back. Neither of us says anything for a while.
“I hope that this is okay with you,” Finn finally says. “But I think you had a little too much to drink to drive. It’s not safe.”
I nod and continue to stare straight ahead. I fear that if I open my mouth to say a word, I will not be able to hide the huge smile that’s forming on my face. I’m afraid if I turn to face him, I won’t be able to contain my arms, and they’ll throw themselves around him in a warm hug. No, instead, I remain perfectly still. Perfectly contained. Finn doesn’t say another word. I feel him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but the glances are occasional and sporadic.
Chapter 16 - Chloe
Finally, the valet arrives in a gorgeous, silver convertible with elongated lines and beautiful curves. Finn opens the door for me and gives the valet what looks like a $100 bill.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask as we pull out of the parking lot. The leather seats, the color of bitter chocolate, seem to almost mold to my body.
“2016 Aston Martin DB9 GT Volante Convertible,” Finn says looking straight ahead.
“It’s really nice,” I say.
“Thank you. Where do you live?”
I give my address.
“You know, you really didn’t need to give me a ride.”
“I know, I want to. Don’t you know that it’s not good to drive drunk?”
I inhale deeply. Of course, I know that. Does he think I’m an idiot? But that wasn’t why I stumbled. And that was not why I was feeling off all night. I mean, who wouldn’t? I got stood up at a black-tie event. Then, one of the biggest movie stars in the world asked me to be his date. But, of course, this is nothing that I can explain to him. I doubt he’d be able to relate to it.
“Can I ask you something?” Finn asks.
“Sure.”
“Do you want to come over to my place? And hang out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just thought that we were having a good time dancing. Getting along, and all that. So, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out.”
I shrug. I don’t really know how to answer him. I should say no. This is too awkward. What if something goes wrong? How will I get home? This is the reasonable and sensible side of my brain talking, but then the other one pipes in. The one that says, why not? You do like him. What’s the worst that could happen?
“Sure,” I say, before I completely finish thinking the whole thing through. Oh shit, I say to myself right afterwards.
“Excellent!” A big wide smile brightens his face. Even in the dark, his teeth sparkly white.
I look out of the window as we turn left on one of the streets going up into the Hollywood Hills. I’ve been here before, numerous times. There’s a beautiful park called Runyon Canyon, where Lila and I often go hiking. There’s only one narrow path leading up to the top. It gets pretty crowded on weekends when almost everyone in LA seems to go there.
“How far away is Runyon Canyon from your place?” I ask.
“Like ten minutes or so, depending on traffic.” I smile. Distance between every place in LA various greatly depending on traffic.
We drive through pitch darkness for a while. The Hollywood Hills are pretty rugged and wild. Even though there are multi-million dollar houses around every corner, it’s also not unusual to hear coyotes howling at night. Mountain lions are also known to haunt the place.
“I just moved into this house not long ago,” Finn says as the gate to his house opens in front of us. “But honestly, I’m not so sure I’m going to stay long.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“I was sort of on the fence between here and Malibu. And the more I st
ay here, the more I want to move to Malibu.”
“If you get a place on the water, you can go surfing every day.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” he says.
Finn parks in the driveway and shows me inside. I walk into a contemporary masterpiece with sky-high ceilings, skylights and glass walls. The main level is the entertainment area with a formal dining room and living room, which open to a porch with a wet bar and an en suite bed. Every room in the place has a panoramic view of LA below. I follow him into the gourmet chef’s kitchen with stainless steel everything, a huge island and a casual breakfast nook.
“Wow, your house…it’s breathtaking,” I say looking around. I realize that I haven’t uttered a word since he showed me inside, but that’s because I lost the ability to speak for a few minutes.
“Thank you,” he says. “It is quite beautiful.”
I try to hide exactly how impressed I am by the place, but I find it a little difficult to be dishonest around him. Finn seems to bring out everything within me that I try so hard to hide on a daily basis. I turn toward him. He’s standing next to the refrigerator. The only light that illuminates his beautiful face is coming from within the open fridge.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asks. I’ve had enough to drink for one night, I decide.
“I’d like a water, if you have one.”
“Oh yes, of course,” he winks at me. He hands me a bottle of Perrier.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask after gulping down half the bottle. My lips are still parched and my mouth is still dry, but I feel a little bit less dehydrated.
“Sure. Anything.”
“Anything?” I ask, jokingly.
Finn takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. Then he pulls it over his head.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he says pointing to what he had just done. I don’t mind one bit. Now that he’s only wearing a dress shirt, I can see the outline of his strong arms and wide shoulders. I start to feel hot again. I take another sip of the water.
“I have plenty more if you’re thirsty.”
He opens one and looks at me.
“So?” he asks.
“So what?”
“What did you want to ask me?”
“Oh, that’s right.” I take a deep breath. “I was just wondering…why you asked me here?”
Finn puts the water down and takes a few steps closer to me. For some unknown reason, I take a step back.
“What are you doing?” I ask. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he takes another step closer to me. Now, my back is all the way against the door of the pantry. He’s standing as close to me as we stood when we were dancing. I can feel him breathing with my body.
“I like you, Chloe,” he says very slowly and deliberately. I bite my lower lip. He takes his hand and runs his fingers along my neck. I close my eyes. I feel his finger along my lower lip. As if it were possible, he pushes himself even closer to me. When I open my eyes, I see him closing his. His eyelashes are long and delicate and his face is completely relaxed.
Ever so lightly, his lips touch mine. Almost without my consent, my mouth starts to move along with his. His lips are soft and powerful, pushing against mine. At first, he’s gentle. He takes his time. His tongue slowly makes his way and finds mine, but then our dance gains strength. He buries his hands in my hair, cradling my head, maneuvering as he sees fit. It’s as if he takes full possession of me, and I let him. I want him to. It feels good not to be in control for once. For a few moments, the rest of the world ceases to exist. There’s only Finn and me, and as long as our lips remain locked, nothing else matters.
But then he pulls away. He looks into my eyes, and I remember that there’s a whole other world out there. Perhaps, what we have is fleeting and delicate and can disappear at any moment.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Finn says.
“Really?”
“Yes. Ever since I first saw you.”
I smile. “I doubt that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“The first time you saw me, I spilled orange juice all over you, and you freaked out. Remember?”
His face flushes. Wait, what is that?
“Are you blushing?” I ask. “I was just joking.”
“That was not my finest moment. I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
For a moment, both of us seem at a loss as to what to do next. This isn’t like in a movie. People in movies start kissing, then fall into bed together. But to get to bed, you have to walk through 3,000 square foot of house, and the transition is a little bit less fluid. I look up at him. His eyes are twinkling again, and he’s smiling his crooked smile at me.
“You’re a good kisser,” I say.
“So are you.”
I nod. He leans closer to me again. He was never more than a step away, but now we’re breathing the same air again. This time, I make the move. I want to shut the whole world out again. I reach up to him and run my fingers over his smooth lips. His breathing speeds up, catching me off guard. I thought he’d be such a natural at this (getting girls into bed), but he looks nervous. Is that really him or is it just my imagination?
I run my fingers over his lips from one side to another. I pull his lower lip down, feeling the soft, moist flesh on the inside. I look up at him. His eyes meet mine and we each dare each other to look away first. I find a new source of courage, coming like a secret spring from somewhere deep inside of me.
Unlike our first kiss, the passion of this moment is like a smoldering coal, glowing in the aftermath of a fire. Hot, but quiet.
I run my fingers over the outline of his face. I push back the lose strands of hair that keep falling into his eyes. His hair is soft and welcoming to my touch. I linger around his ear and slowly make my way to his earlobe. Then it hits me. Touch is an amazing sense. The sensation is completely different depending on how hard I touch. Pressing too hard makes me feel the underlying strength of the thing that I’m pressing against, but touching something slowly and deliberately, produces a whole new sensation. The kind that sends goose bumps up my arms. I must’ve known this all along, but this is the first time I’m consciously experiencing it.
I run my fingers along his neck. I’m sure that he shaved not long ago, but a few stubborn hairs are already making a resurgence.
“You feel nice,” I say. He opens his eyes and meets mine.
“I can’t stand your teasing anymore,” he says and presses his lips onto mine again. I’m swept away by his passion. I kiss him back, burying my hands in his hair. I feel his fingers running up and down my back. He squeezes my shoulders over and over again. He pushes me against the pantry door again, and it makes a noise as our bodies slam into it over and over. My knees start to buckle. I feel myself going limp and slowly slide down to the floor. He follows me. Suddenly, we’re both on our knees. A moment later, I’m lying on the floor, and he’s on top of me. We’re moving as one. We’re dancing to the same silent rhythm. Then, something feels off. I’m not sure where it comes from, but suddenly, I feel queasy. Perhaps, it’s from the surge of adrenaline that rushes through my body.
“Um, Finn,” I say, pushing him away from me. He sits up.
“I feel sick,” I manage to say. And then I throw up. All over his tile floor.
Chloe 17 - Chloe
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say and then barf again. Finn recoils away from me, but I can’t stop. I’m actually projectile vomiting. Everything within my stomach is going in all directions, all over the tile floor and splattering the kitchen island. Finally, I stop. I heave a couple more times, but nothing comes out. I wipe my mouth. I look up at Finn, but my eyes can’t meet his. I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life.
“Are you okay?” Finn asks, as if it’s no big deal.
Then he grabs a pair of yellow cleaning gloves and pulls them onto his hands.
“Oh no, no, no. I’m
going to do this. I’m so, so sorry,” I try to get up, but I feel unsteady. Like I’m going to fall down at any moment. But I cannot, not under any circumstances, let Finn Dalton clean up my vomit.
“It’s really no big deal,” he says with a shrug. Despite how woozy I feel, I take the rag and the bucket out of his hand.
“Please. Let me do this,” I say slowly. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He smiles and gives in.
“You might as well put these on then, I guess.”
He hands me the yellow rubber gloves. I put them on and get to work. I work slowly, but deliberately. More slowly than deliberately, because I don’t really have the strength to move any faster. My head is pounding like crazy, and my ears are buzzing. Finn sits down at the kitchen table, watching me. It takes me three trips to the kitchen sink to soak up almost all of the vomit into the rag and to squeeze it out into the bucket.
When I turn to Finn and ask silently where I should dump the contents of the bucket, he points me to the bathroom right behind me. I dump the bucket into the toilet, flush it and then look at myself in the mirror. What a mess!
My hair is a complete disaster, sticking out in all directions. My eye makeup is a fright. To say I have raccoon eyes would be a big understatement. I’m wearing about a pound, thanks to Lila and all of her contouring and twelve layers of eye shadow. So, I don’t dare wash it with water. Instead, I simply rub underneath my eyes with my finger to get rid of the smudge. I then look down at my dress. Unfortunately, this is not something I can do much about. Nevertheless, I try. The majority of the vomit has settled unpleasantly around my bosom and my stomach area. I peel off the dried bits and rub the rest with water. The stains grow bigger, and I worry that I’m making it worse.
“Are you okay in there?” Finn asks.
“Fine.” I say automatically. I feel him waiting through the door. “Actually, I can’t get any of this off my dress.”
“I’ll get you a change of clothes to wear. We can take it to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow.”
We? I fixate on that word for a little too long.
Auctioned to Him 4: His Addiction Page 62