by Azzi , Gina
“Why can’t your mom help out and drive your dad anymore?” I question, picking up on the only part of her story that doesn’t pertain to me. Instead of letting it go like I would with anyone else, I demand more information.
Zoe averts her gaze to pick at a cuticle. “She passed when I was thirteen. Breast cancer.”
Closing my eyes, I blow out a deep breath.
Fuck.
This girl, this beautiful, optimistic girl who breathes sunshine and rainbows and hustles like there isn’t going to be a tomorrow, knows the fragility of life. And owns it like the purple streaks woven through her hair.
“Don’t feel bad for me, Hollywood.” My nickname on her lips sounds more personal, intimate even, now that I know her backstory. “My family, we do okay for ourselves. We never had much, but the moments we did were filled with light and love. The type that fills up all your empty spaces and gives you something to hang onto when darkness comes. Don’t pity me for a single second.”
Opening my eyes, I swallow. “I’m not.”
Zoe pauses, studying me intently for a long beat. “Do you trust me?”
9
Zoe
Eli’s eyes are dark, like the sky right before a thunderstorm. Storm clouds pass over his irises, moving like shadows. The lines in his face harden, his mouth firm. “I could.” The words drop from his lips like a confession, surprise sparking in his irises.
“You could,” I repeat, rummaging into my bag to pull out the sleep mask I acquired from my only flight in business class.
Eli chuckles, the flash of vulnerability from a moment earlier buried deep once more. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to play, babe?”
I roll my eyes and fling the sleep mask at him. “Who says I need you to play?”
He laughs, amusement stamping out the unease in his eyes. The corners of his mouth curl up the tiniest bit. I relish the fact that I can make him relax, let down his guard, and be present in the moment. It’s no secret that this guy oozes confidence and sex appeal in spades.
He also armors himself in a shield of good time fun and relies on digs or humor to keep everyone at arm’s length from the real him.
The fact that little, quirky, nobody Zoe can make a man like Hollywood laugh bolsters my confidence. It rolls around the inside of my mouth like candy, dissipating before I can swallow, but hitting me like a high. “Cover your eyes.”
“Why?” He grins wider, his eyes trained on mine.
“It’s to help Dr. Henry Shorn. You need to learn how your other senses heighten when one is taken away. When you can’t see, your sense of hearing, of smell, the importance of touch will all have a greater value to you.”
“That makes sense.” Eli agrees, his gaze dipping to my mouth and back up again. “You’re not going to lead me to the ocean and push me in, right?”
Gah! Is he actually flirting with me? “Don’t give me any ideas, Hollywood. Hey, shouldn’t you have an acting coach or a professional to help you with this?” I stand from my chair, tipping my head toward the ocean.
Eli nods, grumbling under his breath as he stands next to me.
“What?” I press.
“Fired him.”
“Already? And here I thought working with you was going to be a picnic.”
“What happened to anything worth achieving not being that easy?” Eli asks, quirking an eyebrow.
I smile, glancing up at him to shoot off something casual and breezy but when I meet his gaze, something shifts between us. The playfulness from moments ago disappears, an intensity I’m unprepared to process taking its place.
His eyes blaze with something I can’t decipher. The skin around his mouth tightens, a small muscle in his jaw ticks. His expression, a mixture of fury and vulnerability, wars with itself.
His looks are lethal on a good day. In a moment like this, they’re brutal.
I drown in his eyes, begging them with mine to let me in.
We’re alike, Hollywood and me. We both yearn for something we can’t have, and we both try to disguise our desires with laughter and humor, good times, and easy quips.
We don’t trust easily and it doesn’t matter, because we’ll never admit that we want to.
The air around us crackles with a heat that threatens to burn us both if we step any closer. Ocean waves lap in the background, exotic birds chirp in harmony with the stridulation of a thousand crickets. My skin tingles and my body tightens with awareness.
The breeze whispering against my bare shoulders. The material of my dress suddenly restrictive, my breasts pressing against it. The need gathering low in my abdomen, seeping into my core.
Jeez Louise.
I want Eli Holt. Want him in ways I’ve never wanted a man.
I don’t just want his body. I want his attention. I want his praise. I want all the cocky and conceited words that fall from his lips so I can spin them around in my own mind and read something deeper in the codes he spits.
His eyes flair, a wild concoction of desperation and defiance that begs me closer while warning me away. It’s heady and dangerous.
His hands dart out, fastening around my hips as he pulls me closer, until I’m flush against him, our chests heaving in rhythm. His hands are splayed wide, his fingers nearly touching my spine as he squeezes. “Violet.” His voice is a curse. “You’re too damn shiny for my world.” He says the words as if he knows my thoughts, as if he understands that moments ago, I lost all sense of reality.
My mouth dries, my hands tentatively reach up, fingertips dragging across his chest. “I thought your world was all sparkle and glamor.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, his eyes so dark that his pupils bleed into his irises. Hypnotizing. “My world is cheap glitter, babe. But you’re the brightest glow I’ve ever seen. I’ll taint you, stamp out your bright with my dark, bend your straight, and tarnish your shiny. I can only dull a brightness like yours. Ask around. Look at the magazine covers. I never stick around.”
Working a swallow, I try to settle the inferno in my bloodstream. His words don’t stop my need. No, they intensify it. For what? So I can try to prove him wrong? “Who says I want someone to stick around?”
He jerks back an inch, the muscles under my fingertips tightening. “Eventually, someone always wants that.” His voice is quiet, his breath, cool mint with a trace of whiskey washes over my face.
Shivers shimmy down my spine as goosebumps break out over my skin. Desperately needing space before I go and do the most reckless thing I can think of, before I give Eli the tiny inch that will undoubtedly result in the entire mile, I cling to my humor with both hands. “If I’m supposed to believe what the magazines print about you, do you want me to embrace the sex god stories too?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. Up, up, up, into a half smirk. “I like you Violet. More than I should. You always say the most unexpected things. As much as I mess with you, you captivate me. And for the record, the acting coach was a dick. Grabbed Harlow’s ass while she was buttering a bagel for Josh. Can’t have that shit going on around here.”
My heart stutters over his words, swelling until it nearly bursts.
I captivate him?
Who is Eli Holt? Sexy heartbreaker, broody actor, arrogant jokester, secret Good Samaritan?
Is it sad that I’m impressed by his response? That it’s not just the obvious thing to do — fire the asshole for feeling up a woman?
But in this circle, even I know it’s not. It makes my respect for the sex god increase a notch.
“Sounds like a dick.”
“The smallest.” Eli drops his hands from my waist. Immediately, I feel the loss of his heat and have to force myself not to lean into him. “Okay, we’ll do this your way.”
“You can remove the mask if you feel uncomfortable. Let’s just take a walk on the beach.”
His eyes cut to mine, his face softening with a trace of vulnerability even though his eyes heat with a hunger that yearns in its intensity.
&nb
sp; Everything between us flickers to life. An energy that pulls me to Eli even though my common sense and his own words warn me away.
He slips the mask over his eyes, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. I nearly groan at the visual. The one unfolding in my mind like a fantasy. Eli stripped naked in bed, me straddling him. He reaches up to —
Jeez Louise, girl. Get it together.
Stepping forward, I wave a hand in front of his face.
“What are you doing?” His voice is low.
“Making sure you can’t see.”
Eli chuckles, low and rumbly. It does things to my insides. “I feel the air moving from your hand.”
“Good. Employ your other senses.” I drop my hand, steel my shoulders, and take a deep breath.
Then, I reach out and lace my fingers with Eli’s, pleased by the catch in his breath. “I’m going to lead you down to the beach. Anything you sense, feel, smell, whatever, just say it out loud. Okay?”
“Okay.” He adjusts his grip on my hand, pressing our palms together.
I lead him through the garden, toward the water.
“The lapping of the waves,” he breathes out. “The salt in the air. Music is playing far off, probably at the bar inside the hotel. I think it’s going to rain.”
“Why?”
“I can smell it in the air. It’s too…heavy.”
“Good. What else?”
“The air is cooler down here, closer to the water. The sand, it’s like I can feel every grain against my feet.”
We walk in silence as we approach the sea. I squeeze his hand once, then drop it. “Take a minute to walk on your own. Think about how you feel, how your surroundings are. I won’t let you drown.”
He offers me a quick smile. A moment later, his face turns serious, his stance alert. Sensing. Searching.
He’s actually taking my lesson seriously, focusing on this moment. On his senses. The realization fills me with pleasure. It also offers me a rare opportunity to study him uninterrupted.
Looking at Eli in person is completely different from seeing his face on a magazine or his hot body in an Instagram post. There are nuances that the media doesn’t capture. Maybe it’s because he’s hiding pieces of himself. Or maybe because he really is that complex.
His jawline smooths out in the moonlight. His full mouth is straight with concentration but soft, losing the firmness of earlier. His arms drop an inch, relaxation rippling through his shoulder blades instead of the tension he usually holds there. His pace is languid, an appreciation in each step as he isn’t hurrying through the tasks of his normal day.
The ocean moves closer, water rushing over his toes and he inhales, surprise twisting his mouth.
Suddenly, I wish I could see his eyes, read the emotions flitting between the shadows of his thoughts.
“You’ll follow me, Violet?”
“Right behind you, Hollywood,” I assure him, trailing him down the beach as he loses more and more of his concentration to this exercise.
Several paces from a jetty, he winces, his foot catching on a rock.
“We’re nearing the jetty.” I call out.
He nods, stopping in place. Reaching down, he grasps a handful of wet sand, rubbing it between his fingers, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. His back stretches from the movement, the T-shirt hugging his muscles pulled taut.
God, he’s tall. I could wear five-inch heels and just reach his chin. The thought causes shivers to shimmy down my arms.
I roll my eyes at myself.
Dropping the sand, Eli brushes his wet hands against his jeans and turns, pulling off the mask.
For a blink, I catch his unguarded expression, witness the surprise of what he’s learned, the solemnity of what that means, and the gratitude for this new experience to shine between us in the glow of the moon.
10
Eli
Her expression is expectant.
Not with demands, or unfulfilled obligations, but to see if I learned from her exercise, to see if she helped me in some way.
Her face is open and candid and so damn vulnerable it pisses me off almost as much as I want to protect it. Protect her against all the bullshit that will erode at her trust.
Especially in my world.
“Did it help?” Her voice is small, a quiver in the dark night. But her presence looms in the center of the beach, lit up by moonlight, brightened by her simple but seductive white dress. She’s playing with fire and has no idea the type of burn I’ll leave.
“Yes,” I admit, the word ripping from my throat against my wishes.
She smiles, her expression blossoming like a sunflower. Because I offered her a gleam of hope where none exists.
Not for me.
Not for us.
“Good. I’m glad.” Her voice is huskier, slightly breathless.
Nodding, I step closer. The salt from the sea hangs heavy in the air around us. A shiver runs over Violet’s skin. I bite my lip, wondering if it’s from the breeze or my proximity.
Walk away, Holt. Let her go. Natalie already tarnished whatever good you had to give.
Don’t get involved with another woman. They all look pretty and shiny. They all hide secrets and lies.
But when I look at Zoe, I don’t see any of the malicious intents of Natalie Beck.
Then again, I never saw them with her either. Not until it was too late.
“I don’t trust myself around you, Violet.” I offer her the words, a pathetic attempt to explain the things I refuse to admit out loud.
“Why?” she whispers.
“Because I’ll only end up letting you down.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I’ll let you down because I’ll never want more than the moment. Than the now. And eventually, you will.”
“Did you think I was joking earlier? You’re giving yourself a lot of credit here, Hollywood.”
Smirking, my hands settle on her hips once more. My fingers rub the flimsy fabric of her dress, pulling it taut. I want to rip it from her body, lay her down on the white sand, and take everything she offers.
I won’t take her slowly. And it sure as fuck won’t be sweet.
I want to devour her in a carnal way that imprints on the backs of her eyelids, so every time she closes her eyes, each fucking blink, she sees me. I will ruin her for every man who comes afterwards. Consume her entirely until she combusts, the only proof of my pillage a goddamn sand angel, to be drowned in the sea before dawn.
“Then prove me wrong, Violet.” It’s the last out I give her, a small pause. A gasp drops from her lips. Her eyes shine, a glorious gold that will undoubtedly dim the longer she knows me.
It’s subtle, the way her back arches. The flutter of her eyelashes, small half-moon shadows brushing against the delicate curve of her cheeks.
It’s everything. It’s the permission I need to drop my head and take. Drink the sweetness of her intentions. Steal the light that resides in her soul.
Corrupt her brightness and let it meld with all the dark that fills the cavity of my chest.
I fuse my mouth to her lips, run my hands up her back until my fingertips grip the strands of her hair, and swipe my tongue against the seam of her lips, demanding entry.
She sighs, her mouth opening, her chest pressing into my abdomen, her tight nipples rubbing against my T-shirt, creating a friction she loves because she moans.
And that’s the tipping point.
My tongue clashes with hers, hot, heady, and so goddamn desperate. Our movements aren’t fluid or natural. They’re nearly disjointed with the need to suck every damn sensation from her, from this moment, from the now.
She grips my shoulders, moving her hands to the back of my neck. Her fingernails score my scalp and I grin, biting down on her tongue.
“Fuck.” It falls from her mouth, surprising both of us.
In the next beat, I grip her ass with one hand, my other forearm bracing against her spine as I lift her
into my arms. “Give me everything, Violet,” I command, taunting her until she hooks her elbows over my shoulders and hoists herself up, taking charge.
Our kiss is a battle of wills. A duel between light and dark. A promise and a threat and the foreshadowing of disaster.
Right now, though, I let the sensations of her mouth, the boldness of her touch, block everything out.
Laying her on the white sand, I crawl up her body, raking her dress up until it’s pushed over her breasts.
Fuck.
She’s perfect. All creamy skin and delicious curves. Dragging my tongue up the center of her stomach, she arches off the sand. I don’t waste any time pulling down the cup of her bra, and greedily fasten my mouth over her nipple, licking and sucking until she moans. Then I switch to her other breast. Beneath me, Zoe gasps, her legs winding around my back and hooking, heels digging into me.
“Oh God, Eli,” she murmurs.
My name, dropping from her mouth, works through the fog in my head and douses me in a bucket of cold water.
Why the fuck did she have to go and do that? Say my name when all she’s been doing is calling me Holt or Hollywood?
I could ruin her when she made me feel casual.
But not now. Not when she’s already unknowingly messing with my head. Giving me more of herself than just the surface, confiding in me about her family, helping me with my lines. Violet’s generosity is unexpected at face value, but even more so because I can’t find the motive behind it. That makes her dangerous to a guy like me.
A man who once gave himself so whole-heartedly, with blind trust and desperate hopes, that the destruction from that failed relationship is irreparable. I’ll never be whole again, and I’ll never stop yearning for that wholeness.
Sliding off of her, I kneel, the damp sand pressing into my shins. She rises onto one elbow, looking at me with concern, not anger, in her eyes.