He was sneaky dangerous.
“That was great.” I said a little breathless. “Maybe add in a few more words and you’ll have a whole song.”
He nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Letting me kiss you.”
“Pretty sure that’s my line.”
“Pretty sure it’s not.” He kissed my forehead, hesitated, and for one brief second, I figured he’d kiss me again. Instead, he pulled back, all business, and stated in a gruff voice. “Yeah, I’m paying you.”
And that dear friends.
Was how I helped Zane Andrews write his first hit in two years.
I just didn’t know.
Really, how could I know?
That it wasn’t about kissing at all.
It never was.
Fallon
I regretted giving him my number almost immediately. Apparently, Dominos was getting angry that he kept calling them and asking them to approve of lyrics.
So finally, three days after we started our weird partnership.
Three days after the purposeful kiss.
We were back to being whatever we were to begin with, the awkward girl and the pop star.
We spent afternoons together walking on the beach, going to the aquarium, and eating.
Zane loved eating.
But he refused to eat anything without first savoring a few marshmallows, and when I asked him about it, he got so defensive I dropped the subject for fear he was going to be the celebrity that threw his drink in my face and stalked off.
Mags still begged for information.
But I was a vault.
That, and I didn’t really know what to tell her.
It was kind of… not embarrassing? I don’t know what it was, I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Maybe it was my pride, because explaining to her that he was paying me to be like a paid companion just sounded wrong.
He always wanted me to walk in front of him in crowds.
And sometimes he refused to even go into the grocery store because by the looks of the parking lot it was a zoo. His words not mine.
It wasn’t until four days in when he texted me yet another audio sample of lyrics that I drove over to his house.
We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour, but he was driving me insane, and I wasn’t doing anything anyway, might as well not do anything together.
I knocked on his door and heard his muffled, “Come in.”
The blinds were drawn, and a huge bag of marshmallows lay open on the counter. Big shock there.
“Zane?” I called, walking farther into the beach house, only to see Zane stretch his lean body up off the couch in perfect lion like fashion all before walking around and tossing a marshmallow at my face.
“Four eyes, you made it.”
I blinked.
And then closed my eyes. “You’re naked.”
“Why do people always state the obvious? Of course I’m naked. I was alone, why would I be wearing clothes?”
I covered my eyes, not trusting myself to just open them and take a peek at his impressive body. “Normal people wear clothes at all times!”
“Why are you yelling?”
“Because you’re naked!”
“You already said that. Here, have a marshmallow.” He pelted another one at my body and then another.
“That doesn’t change the fact—”I pulled my hands from my eyes, grabbed the two marshmallows, and chucked them at his head “—that you’re still naked!”
“What would your grandma say about that, I wonder?” Zane teased with a wink.
“She’d probably say your name was blasphemous.”
“Saint?” His eyebrows arched as he walked around the couch and wrapped a blanket around his hips. Thank God. “That’s not my choice of names, after um, hearing about my childhood…” He frowned then shrugged. “My agent thought it would be a good angle.”
“Did you grow up in the Catholic church or something?”
He barked out a laugh. “Or something.”
I managed a tiny breath and turned around, he might not be naked but most of his chest was on display for me to see, and it was impossible not to see all that glistening skin and muscle. “Sorry, I’m early. You wouldn’t stop texting me audio clips, and I figured this was easier.”
“It is.” He came up behind me. The blanket brushed against me, and I nearly passed out on the spot. His arm snaked around my body and plunged into the marshmallow bag. That same arm brushed mine as he tugged a few marshmallows out and chewed.
I knew he was chewing because he was that close. “So—” more chewing “—should we go to the bedroom?”
“You’re paying me. That would make me a prostitute.”
“Damn it, money exchanging hands really does change everything doesn’t it?” His body pressed closer. “Don’t worry, four eyes, I would never seduce you.”
I hated that he was blatantly stating the obvious. Of course he wouldn’t. He was Zane Andrews! And let’s not forget the fact that he didn’t practice safe sex.
“Good,” I lied. “Then by asking me to go into the bedroom I can only assume you need me to grab you clothes because you’re color blind, so lead the way and we’ll get to work.”
“Slave driver.” He slapped my ass and took off down the hallway, leaving me to follow.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smother him with a pillow or text a picture of my ass to everyone I knew and say something stupid like, “Zane Andrews just slapped me here. I’m never showering again!”
It was good.
His cocky, arrogant prick of an attitude.
It reminded me of who he was.
Which in turn reminded me of who I was.
A local Oregon girl just earning money for college.
Zane dropped the blanket.
I didn’t close my eyes this time.
He crossed his arms. “Well, the emperor can’t go out like this. I think we all know how that story ended. Find me some clothes you approve of, and we’ll go for a walk.”
Zane
It was getting harder.
Everything was getting harder.
And I really meant everything.
Mentally.
And physically.
Ignoring the fact that every time I saw her, I felt my chest flutter like a damn girl — I looked forward to seeing her.
That was bad news.
She was bad news.
I was leaving, no chance in hell did I want to stay in Seaside for longer than I had to. Besides, it wasn’t like she was staying local anyway.
We made it to the beach in record time. I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly collided with a rock and just barely missed it by jumping down the rest of the way onto the sand.
“Easy ninja, you don’t want to break a leg before you start touring again,” Fallon said in a teasing tone.
God, I really needed her to stop talking right now.
Or, just. Ever.
I stayed away from girls for a reason — sure I was photographed numerous times with girls hanging all over me, and yeah I’d kissed hundreds of them, but they were never fans, they were never normal, they were actresses, models, girls who knew that by touching me, they’d suddenly book the next job they had lined up.
She was different.
She gained nothing by kissing me, and I gained nothing but a really uncomfortable twitch in my cock by kissing her.
No sex.
No sex.
No sex.
Yeah, I wondered how many times I needed to repeat that mantra over and over in my head before something snapped, and I jumped on the first girl who said hi to me.
It had never been a problem until now.
Until the kissing and the whole issue of me promising not to seduce her or touch her.
Maybe that was the issue. I knew I would be a complete jackass if I followed through, and the last thing I wanted was for her big doe eyes t
o get sad, and for that sadness to be caused because after twenty-three years of being celibate, I finally broke down, gave in.
It wasn’t like it was on purpose, my virginity.
It was more of how I was brought up.
Or rather, what I was surrounded with in foster care.
I shuddered at the thought while Fallon raced ahead of me toward the ocean. The waves crashed against the sand with significant force causing the little pieces to fly into the air. Wind whipped at my face while I zipped up my hoodie and watched.
The music had been coming for four days.
Four full days of nothing but feeling, feeling for the first time in two years. The only issue was her.
Every artist had his muse.
I’d found mine.
And wasn’t so sure I wanted to let her go.
And just like that, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Another text. I knew who it was from, I knew what he’d be asking, and I knew what my answer would be. Not yet. Because the album was just now getting to the point where it was turning into something that I was proud of, and I’d only written five songs. Typically, I went through close to a hundred before I picked the tracks I wanted. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to my agent.
Hell, he’d just love the spin she could make on a story about me using a local girl as inspiration, I’d blink, and a TV crew would be down here documenting every single second of the day and somehow twisting it into a romance where I’m suddenly pining after the plain girl with glasses.
My cock twitched.
Damn it.
I was not pining after the cute girl.
And she was cute. I let out a pitiful groan as she skipped ahead, kicking sand at her own ass, and nearly tumbling into a damn seagull before making it to the water. At least she’d stopped being so uptight around me, I still wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing — the familiarity.
“Zane!” Fallon cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled my name at least three times before I finally acknowledged I’d heard her.
Damn it. I was going to hurt her.
I just knew it.
And just like that, more music crashed into my chest right along with the waves, and words, they came reckless and angry.
“You’re not very chatty today,” Fallon finally said once I reached her and we started walking along the beach. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were upset that I saw you naked and didn’t faint.”
“Hah.” I rolled my eyes. “Fainting has happened on occasion, but I figured you were made of stronger stuff, Fallon.”
Shit.
I said her name.
Shit, shit, shit.
Her smile wavered. Please don’t notice. “Yeah well…” She shrugged. “I’ve seen lots of naked men in my crazy life as a call girl.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said in a thankful exhale; happy she hadn’t fixated on the fact that I didn’t call her four eyes. “And how is the business these days?”
“Can’t complain, I’m gonna be a movie star one day you know, once I make enough money to move to Hollywood. Be my Richard Gere?”
“He has gray hair.”
“That’s your only reason for saying no?”
“I have nice hair.”
“You do.” She reached for my head and then jerked her hand back, her cheeks pinked as she stumbled forward. “Sorry.”
“Fallon.” Damn it, now that I’d started saying her name I couldn’t stop. “Are you apologizing for almost touching me?”
“Well, you are paying me.” She laughed, but it wasn’t her normal laugh, it was so fake I wanted to pull her into my arms and apologize. “So, no touching right? Isn’t that what you said?”
Of course I’d be stuck with the smart girl who remembered every single conversation and stored it for moments like this when I wanted her to forget all of the reasons I’d given her in the car why kissing her was a bad idea.
“So…” I cleared my throat and quickly changed the subject. “What did you think of the audio clip I sent?”
She pushed her adorable black glasses up and scrunched her nose. “Okay don’t be mad.”
“Ouch.” I held a hand to my chest. “That bad?”
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet!”
I stopped walking. “Okay, let me have it.”
“The song’s about sex, right?”
Hell, I hadn’t expected her to be so cute as if sex made her uncomfortable and everything with it — she would be different.
She wouldn’t be using me.
She’d genuinely be sharing herself with me because she wanted to.
She was good.
Not like all the others.
And I was leaving. Funny, since I was the one with abandonment issues, yet this time I would be the one walking —I hated it.
“I guess.” I finally answered. “Why?”
“Well, you make it sound so… clinical.”
My mouth dropped open. Not what I thought she was going to say. “Um, I’m sorry what?”
“People know how to have sex, Zane.”
Hah, if she only knew. “Do they, now?” I grinned, unable to help myself.
“Yeah.” She backed up a few steps. “I guess what I want to say is, I mean tab A goes into slot B and um,” She covered her face with her hands and mumbled. “This really isn’t how I pictured this conversation going.”
“Oh, so you often picture having sex talks with me?”
“Grandma would kill me right now.”
“I’m very disappointed in you, young lady,” I said in a gruff voice that sounded way creepier than I’d meant it to. Fallon burst out laughing and removed her hands.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath as pieces of her hair kissed her cheeks. I wanted those cheeks, that skin, maybe just one touch, no more than three caresses right? That was allowed. I reached for her, but she leaned back. “You make it sound cold.”
“Cold.” My hand was still midair, I jerked it back. “I make sex sound… frigid? Is that what you mean?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes widened. “I mean, okay I know you probably have a different sexual partner every single night, which is probably why there is such a disconnect between singing about it and actually, er, um doing it, but that’s not how it should be? You know quick, fast, I touch this, you touch that, oh, look we both orgasmed and then—“
The breath whooshed from my lungs. “Shit, did you just say orgasm?” Hell, did I just moan? Out loud?
“Maybe.” She squinted. “No. Actually, can I have a do-over of this conversation?”
“Absolutely not.” I barked out a laugh.
“Why!” She looked up at the sky and clenched her fists. “Am I making sense at all?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry, Grandma,” she mumbled before grabbing my hands and sinking to the sand, pulling me down with her. We sat holding hands, staring at the waves. “I want you to close your eyes.”
“Why are we apologizing to your dead grandma?”
“She may haunt me for life after this.”
“This day just gets better and better doesn’t it?”
“Or worse, depending on what side of the conversation you’re on.”
I smirked; her cheeks literally could not get any redder. I reached up with my free hand and touched. Touching was always my downfall, maybe because once she was gone — nobody had touched me again.
Fallon shivered and scooted toward me. “Your eyes aren’t closed.”
“Sorry,” I said, voice gruff. Then I lowered my hand and closed my eyes. “Please tell me you don’t have some sort of weapon, and this is your sick way of seeking fame by killing me on the beach. Aroused.”
“Huh?”
“I’m talking about sex with a cute girl. Of course I’m into that.” My eyes were still closed, but I could hear her sharp intake of breath like I’d surprised her. Hell, I’d surprised myself! I had no business telling her she was cute. What the hell was I doing?
> “So um, think about a time you’ve been with a girl.”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have any.”
She growled. “This isn’t going to work if you refuse to participate.”
“Four eyes…”
“Seriously, Zane! The song has a great tempo, I really like it. It has the potential to be like the love song of the summer, only hotter, but you have to make it sensual, not sexual.”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay, so think about a girl you’ve been with and—”
“No,” I interrupted. “How about you tell me about a time you’ve been with a guy. There has been a time, right?” I was going to hell. Basically making her feel bad about her lack of sexual experience and—
“Only two.”
The hell? I tried to keep myself composed, but seriously. Did she just say two? My little four eyes and two douche bags? I had a sudden need to find both dudes and strangle them, or publically shame them, run them over with my truck, drown them in the ocean and—
“You’re squeezing my hand a bit hard, Zane.” Fallon said in a strained voice.
I quickly released her hand. “Sorry, I was just… thinking.”
“About me and other guys?” She laughed.
It wasn’t funny.
“So, these two pricks…” I started. “High school pricks, they taught you romance?”
“Not romance!” She huffed. “You aren’t listening. But even with guys who have no experience…”
I flinched unintentionally.
She didn’t seem to notice. “…they still touch you. It’s not just about parts joining — oh no, I just said parts and joining in the same sentence. This is literally worse than my sixth-grade health class when my teacher forced me to name the male reproductive system.” She hung her head.
I wrapped my arm around her and sighed. “How about I rescue you from yourself?”
“Finally. Now you decide to be heroic?” Her big eyes blinked up at me, and I fought an internal struggle to press my lips to her face, to comfort her, or maybe just kiss some of her embarrassment away, to see if she tasted as hot as her cheeks looked.
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