The night was fun. Holly and I met up with Nick at a club in West Hollywood. They were having “decades” night, and we danced all night in the eighties room. I didn’t mention to Nick the fact that I had been engaged in a back-and-forth with Jack. First, I knew how big a crush he really did have. Second, he worked in the industry too, and that was just too tempting a rumor.
After the hangover from the other day, I restricted myself to a two-drink maximum, despite Nick’s best attempts to get me wasted and onstage with a drag queen. It was not going to happen—the getting-wasted part. I did dance on the stage.
I packed my tired ass into bed sometime after three—well past my bedtime—and was asleep almost instantly, although not so instantly that I didn’t spare a thought for the Brit and wonder whether he was home yet or not.
Only a few hours later, after some much-needed power sleeping, I decided to go for another run in Griffith Park. As I drove through the canyons on the way, my phone rang. It was the Brit.
“Hey there,” I chirped merrily into the phone. I was happier than I wanted to be to talk to him.
“Hey, Nuts Girl. What are you up to?” he asked, his voice deliciously thick. He sounded like he’d just woken up.
“I’m going for a run. You?”
“I’m still in bed, trying to decide if I can talk the girl at Starbucks into making a home delivery. Is it too pretentious to ask if she’s a Time fan?” he asked, already knowing my answer.
“Yes, it is. Don’t you dare,” I said, chiding him.
“Where are you going for your run?” he inquired, setting me up.
I let him. “Griffith Park, why?”
“Oh, that’s really close to my place. Pity I don’t know who that unidentified redhead was. I bet she’d get me some coffee.”
“Maybe if you ask really nice and then you kiss on her for a while, she might consider it.” I loved where this was leading.
“That’s a deal. When I see her, I’ll kiss on her until she tells me to stop.”
“Who says she’ll tell you to stop?”
“Then you better get your sweet ass over here so I can begin the kissing,” he said.
You’re going to let him touch your boobies, aren’t you?
Maybe. Probably.
“Okay, I’m going for my run, and then I’ll be by with your coffee. Did you need a muffin, too? Or am I just your java wench for now?” I said, sassing him back.
“Ha ha! Just the coffee, but skip the run. I’m lonely.”
“No, I need to run. Besides, that will give you time to clean up your place.”
“How do you know if I need to clean up my place or not? You’ve never been here.”
“You’re twenty-four, right? I’m going to guess that your boxers are on the coffee table, there are pizza boxes on the floor, and the bong is on the back of the toilet. Yes?”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. “Go for your run, I’ll see you soon. And the bong isn’t in the bathroom.”
“Kitchen?”
“Maybe.”
I pressed. “Has it ever been in the bathroom?”
“Damn it, yes.”
“I am the master! Text me your order and your address and I’ll be along soon. I’m warning you, though: I’ll be all hot and sweaty from my run. You may not want to kiss me.”
“Not possible. I’m looking forward to the hot and sweaty. And, Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Run fast,” he said darkly.
“No problem. See you soon,” I replied.
I ran like my ass was on fire.
I made it to his apartment in less than sixty minutes, forgoing my usual longer run in favor of a more Jack-friendly workout. I had picked up his coffee, a grande espresso, and my iced mocha as well. I climbed the stairs to his door and knocked carefully, balancing the two cups.
When he opened the door, my breath drew in with a hiss. He was wearing a white T-shirt and low-slung jeans and was barefoot. The hair was curly perfection, and he hadn’t shaved for a few days. The roughness of his beard accented his jawbones, making him look virile and angelic at the same time. He was smiling at me while looking devilish. I said hello to him, walked past him into the hallway, and continued into what I assumed was the living room. He said nothing, just followed me in. I could hear the soft slap of his bare feet on the wood floors. I turned around to hand him his coffee and he was right behind me. He took both cups and set them on the table.
“I got it with two sugars, just the way you—” I was silenced by his stare.
He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me into him. His green eyes were blazing, and his jaw set as his fingers touched the skin between my tank top and my track pants.
“Sorry, I told you I was going to be sweaty. Do you want me to—”
“Grace?” he said, interrupting me.
“Yes?”
“Shut the fuck up and enjoy this,” he whispered as he bent his head to mine.
He’s right, Grace. Shut the fuck up.
His lips touched mine, and where yesterday’s kiss had been sweet and amazing, today’s was serious. His mouth moved over mine urgently. I’d been dying to touch his hair since the first day I saw it, and now I dug in. I felt the silk and the softness of every strand as I wound my fingers through, drawing him closer to me. I sucked lightly on that damn lower lip, and when his tongue met mine I . . . thought . . . I . . . would explode.
His hands were rough on my hips, tugging me closer, and I could feel each fingerprint pressing into my skin. My senses were so heightened that I could even feel slight calluses on his left hand as they dragged toward my belly. I moaned into his mouth, feeling my skin pebble and shiver. He pulled back for a nanosecond and inhaled, gazing at me through heavy eyes, and then leaned in for more.
His lips trailed down my jaw toward my neck, and I turned my head to give it all to him. It was my sweet spot, the one that made my toes point . . . yep, they were pointing. He used his tongue to tickle his way from my collarbone up to my ear, stopping to nibble and nip here and there. I pulled my right hand away from his hair and began running my fingertips up and down his back, feeling his strong muscles through his thin shirt. His hands returned to my hips, pushing me backward until I felt my legs hit the table. He stopped then and lifted his head from my neck to look at me. I took the opportunity to snake my hands around to the front, slipping them under his shirt and letting them feather across his stomach. He closed his eyes.
“You’re driving me crazy, Sheridan,” he groaned, pushing me back onto the table.
“You like crazy, remember?” I quipped, scrambling up so that I was sitting with him in between my legs. “Now, come get your crazy,” I whispered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back down to me.
It was hot.
He was hot.
I was hot. I was really hot. I was almost . . . uncomfortably hot. I was . . . burning?
“Ow ow ow!” I shouted, pushing him off me and springing off the table. “What the what?” I cried, feeling my back. I had lain right on his espresso and knocked it over, and it was now all over my back and sweet mother-of-pearl it was hot! It was dripping off the side of the table and onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” he exclaimed, unsticking my shirt from my back and holding it away from my body so I could get a little airflow.
“Yes! Goddamn it, that hurts!” I cried. And what the hell, who makes out with someone as hot as this guy and then lies in hot coffee?
You do, Grace.
“You’d better take that off. It’s cooling now,” he observed, staring at the coffee destruction that I had inflicted on my shirt.
“Ya think?” I asked, more frustrated that the kissing had stopped than that my back was probably blistering. I could tell he was concerned that I’d really hurt myself, but there was also a twinkle beginning to build in his eye. He was trying not to laugh as he continued to hold my shirt away from my back.
“If I take this shirt off, I’ll be topless. No bra, mister, can you handle that?” I inquired.
“Why don’t we just take a look at your back first, make sure you’re okay? Then I’ll see about handling you,” he said teasingly, still trying not to laugh.
I turned around and grasped my tank top, pulling it slowly up toward my shoulders. As I revealed my back to him, I heard him gasp.
“Yeah, that’s right. Liking the view?” I asked, swaying my hips suggestively. I peered over my shoulder in what I thought was a seductive gaze.
He was frowning. “Settle down, Crazy Girl, you’re really red back here. Let me get you some ice. Stay here.”
He walked into the kitchen and I could hear him puttering about. He came back in a minute, holding a Ziploc bag filled with ice and wrapping a kitchen towel around it. He took my elbow and began leading me into his bedroom. I still had my shirt pulled up around my chin, trying to keep the girls under cover in front. I saw him sneak a glance down and then shake his head. He was smiling that sexy little half grin.
“You’re in quite the compromising position.”
“Compromise this,” I shot back as we walked into his bedroom. It smelled like Febreze. I could tell he had just straightened up right before I got there, and I was touched.
He guided me over to the bed. “Right then, you lie down, and I’m gonna put this on your back. It should feel better. I promise I won’t peek,” he stated as I stood in front of him. I stretched up on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his neck and then kicked off my sneakers.
“Close your eyes,” I whispered.
He grinned and his eyes slammed shut dramatically.
I lifted my shirt off over my head and dropped it on the floor. As it hit the tops of his feet, he smiled again.
“You promised, no peeking,” I said, moving over to his bed.
“I know. I’m trying. You’re kind of killin’ me here. Let me know when you’re settled,” he said softly.
“All right, I’m good. You can open now.” I had settled myself on the middle of his bed, lying on my tummy, facing him. I had grabbed a pillow and placed it below me, and it was keeping me covered. Mostly. I might have arranged my cleavage a little.
He opened his eyes and took me in. “Why the hell couldn’t you have spilled some on your pants, too, Grace?” he said jokingly, sitting next to me. “Hold still, here comes the ice.” He gently placed the towel-wrapped ice bag on the place where it was the most red, and I hissed involuntarily.
“Does that hurt much?” he asked, his other hand running up and down my arm soothingly.
“No, not too much. It’s just the cold.”
I looked around his room and noticed a guitar in the corner. I’d have to remember to ask him about that.
I sighed dramatically.
“What’s that about?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. When I imagined me being topless in your bedroom, there wasn’t an ice pack involved,” I said.
“You are not the only one who’s imagined you topless in here. Who knew you’d sustain an injury, though?” he answered.
“Well, I’m here. And I am topless.”
“Yes, and still burned. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself further,” he said firmly.
I looked at him. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me with the ice bag in one hand, holding it to my back. His other hand was still on my arm. He looked like a piece of heaven and I couldn’t resist him. He was too delicious.
I sat up, with my hands still covering me. He slid the ice off my back. I reached out my hands to him, leaving me open to his gaze. His eyes widened and a slow grin spread across his face. I pushed him back onto the pillows and swung one leg over.
“It’s okay, Hamilton. I’ll just have to be on top.”
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
Nice move, Grace. Now go get yours.
We did not do the deed. That would have been too easy, too soon. It would’ve been amazing, but amazing too soon. As I drove home, my mind kept flashing on images that were particularly pleasant.
His eyes, staring up at me as I straddled him, running my hands through my hair, smirking down at him . . .
His hands, when he touched me for the first time. He’d run them slowly from my hips to my belly and then proceeded with agonizing slowness to my breasts. He watched my face for approval as he circled them, caressing the sides of each before gently kneading my skin. I had moaned when his fingertips brushed against my nipples, which hardened instantly.
His soft smile, as he watched me begin to come undone . . .
His strength, as he sat up underneath me, nuzzling at my neck. He’d been so careful not to touch my back, using my hips to guide me closer to him. I only cringed slightly when he grasped me there; I wasn’t quite as self-conscious as I had once been. I had lost my hands in his hair again. His breath had gotten heavier and more uneven as I pressed my hips downward onto him, eliciting a groan that made my blood boil and my tummy flip.
His lips, as he pressed them farther down my neck toward my breasts. I had arched backward to get better leverage, and he kissed down between them. He had planted soft kisses all over, between, below, and around.
His tongue, when he finally took my right nipple into his mouth. He had sucked torturously, running his tongue back and forth before releasing it with a nibble. He grinned wickedly at me as he watched my reaction.
It had been unreal. There were truly no words.
When we’d finally broken apart, panting heavily, we’d just stared at each other with lust. My lips were swollen from his more passionate kisses and his stubble. I was still sitting on his lap, my legs wrapped around him. He laid his head on my chest, nudging my head back so he could snuggle into the nook between my shoulder and breast. His strong arms encircled me, making sure there was no space between our skin. I trailed my hands gently through his hair again, using my fingernails to massage his scalp. This was something I’d quickly discovered that he loved.
He had sighed contentedly and asked, “How is it possible that I have only known you a few days?”
“I know. I know,” I said soothingly, pulling him even closer to me. The franticness of earlier had segued into smooth, easy touching and feeling and comforting and closeness. It was sweet.
“How’s your back?” he asked, cuddling closer to me. I felt his warm breath on my chest.
“It’s better. Thanks for the distraction,” I replied, kissing his forehead, his temples, his nose, his eyelids, his eyebrows. He sighed again, making a light humming sound in the back of his throat that I’d filed away as “Jack’s Happy Sound.”
A horn honking brought me back down to earth, snapping me out of my memory. I brushed my fingertips over my still-swollen lips and grinned. My shirt had still been wet with espresso when I left, so I was wearing one of his shirts. The long-sleeved white thermal would have fit him snugly, but I was swimming in it. He’d taken the time to roll up my sleeves for me at his front door, and I noticed again how much taller he was than me. He was easily over six feet, and he gazed down at me adoringly. We had made out all morning, hardly joking at all, and I wondered if things would change now. Would we be friends? Would we be mushy? Would we be anything now?
He leaned to kiss me good-bye and whispered in my ear, “In case I didn’t tell you, you have gorgeous tits.”
I grinned inwardly, then placed my mouth right next to his ear. “I know. Wait until you see the rest of me.”
We both cracked huge smiles and I trotted away toward my car. When I got there, I looked back and saw him still standing there, watching me.
“See ya, Hamilton!”
“Later, Sheridan.”
Yeah, things will be just fine.
Jack and I had agreed that for the rest of the day, I was working. He was between jobs right now, although he was doing more and more press for the film. Holly also had him taking meetings all over town, making sure that the doors would be open when this movie premiered. All the industry trackers were predicting a commercial success, possibly even forty million plus on opening weekend. If all went well, Jack would have significant bargaining power when choosing his next few jobs. Holly was determined to use his new power position to secure his career, rather than capitalize on just the next eighteen months while he was the new “it boy.”
Because he wasn’t technically working right now, he was enjoying his last few months of relaxation in relative anonymity, although even that was no longer guaranteed. I thought about the pictures from yesterday, and I thought about how a picture of me leaving his apartment in what was obviously his shirt could affect him.
It would have looked like we were indulging in a little morning delight, to which I was no longer opposed.
But I was behind on my work with my scene partner, not to mention almost overdue on a project that I was working on for a client. I told Jack emphatically that he was not allowed to call me, e-mail me, or send me texts until I reached out to him. He was so charming that he would pull my focus from whatever task I was trying to complete—not that I was complaining. The time we’d spent together that morning was crazy-town good. I needed to keep both feet planted firmly on the ground, however. It would be so easy to get carried away with all things Hamilton. Besides, I had another motive for spending the afternoon alone.
I wanted to Google him.
Ever since he’d mentioned it at the beach, I’d been considering it. I mean, really, it wasn’t too stalkerish, was it? If I was dating any other guy and I knew there was oodles of information available, just waiting for me, wouldn’t I take advantage of it? Was this creepy?
Hell’s bells, Loretta, just Google him for fuck’s sake.
I made myself work for a few hours when I got home, after I took a peek at my back. It was still red, but not too bad. I thought I might milk it a little next time I saw him, score some sympathy points. Maybe even a back rub. Yeah, a back rub. His hands would trail lightly down my back, farther still to my panties, and then . . .
Focus up, Grace.
I did work for a few hours, and then I switched over to the open-mike night I had planned for the following week. I strummed my guitar, practicing the songs I’d chosen. I’d recently begun to write some of my own songs, but I wasn’t quite confident enough about them yet to sing them in public.
I was still singing when I noticed it was almost dinnertime and Holly would be home soon. I’d have to Google later. I raced through the shower and was just getting dressed when she called to let me know she was about five minutes away. She was bringing Thai home for dinner.
I was slipping into a white linen shift when she poked her head into my room.
“Hey, dinner’s downstairs and you’ve got a package waiting for you on the front porch.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, it’s right outside. Go get your package.” I walked past her, raising an eyebrow. She just shrugged and pointed down toward the front door.
Outside, I saw a white envelope on the front step. I opened it and found a Starbucks gift card. The note attached said:
Sheridan,
You didn’t say anything about handwritten delivery when you cut off all forms of communication.
“Oh man, Hamilton, are you here?” I called out as I looked around.
He caught me up into a close hug, pulling back to kiss my forehead. “I brought you this since you didn’t really get your money’s worth this morning.”
“You’re silly, and I told you no communication. Obviously this would include face-to face.” I pouted, relaxing a little into him.
“Why are you so serious about this no-communication thing?” he inquired, beginning to sweep gentle kisses from my ear down to my neck.
“This is why. Because I can’t focus when you do that.” I sighed, leaning fully into him against my better judgment.
“Huh. So, I shouldn’t do this?” he asked innocently, brushing his fingertips down my bare arms. He slid his hand along my shoulder, then inside the linen dress, and began to move toward my breast.
“No, you shouldn’t,” I protested weakly. I was beginning to get worked up and could feel my breasts tighten as he moved closer.
“I like this dress, Grace. I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
“No kidding—we’ve just met! So far you’ve seen me in workout clothes, a racing swimsuit, and a slutty pair of jeans. And a saltine shower.”
He laughed, clearly remembering the saltines. “Well, they were all memorable. But the dress? My favorite so far.” He continued his assault on my senses, running his hands farther down my sides and starting to gather handfuls of linen, lifting my dress high on my thighs.
“For fuck’s sake, we can’t do this here! This is so inappropriate. This is . . . Oh, God . . .”
He’d allowed his fingertips to slide all the way up my legs, stopping only when he reached my lacy panties. He traced the edge of the lace, starting at my hip and moving down, then covering me with his hand. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me.
“Are you focusing right now, Grace?” he breathed into my ear.
“Um, yes? But you don’t affect me as much as you think you do.” I tried feebly to keep control of the conversation, since I was losing control of the lower half of my body.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He frowned at me, pulling the lace aside, his fingers hovering just above me. Like before, even though he wasn’t actually touching me, I could feel him. I could feel where he was, and I knew he knew exactly what this was doing to me. “In fact, I would say you are very affected by this,” he whispered hotly, his piercing eyes not allowing me to look away.
Then his fingers touched me.
I have never in my life felt so aroused. It was magic. His fingers fluttered along, grazing me lightly, and I almost came right then. I shuddered.
“Mmm, Grace. You sure this isn’t affecting you?” he said, pressing down on me. I almost lost my balance. He pushed me back up against the doorbell and I heard it ring.
“Coming!” Holly said as she clicked across the floor inside.
“Not quite, but she’s close.” He chuckled, removing his hand and leaving me breathless and rosy cheeked. “I’ll just let you get back to focusing. Call me when you’re ready to finish this,” he said, laughing lightly at my frustrated, confused look.
“Guh,” I mumbled. He slipped into the darkness, but I could hear him. I amused him.
Holly opened the door and took one look at me. I was still against the door with my dress bunched up around my hips. I was shaking my head in wonderment, looking frazzled and thrilled all at the same time.
“Oh, God, the British have landed, haven’t they?” she asked.
I looked up at her, incapable of speech.
I distinctly heard Jack’s laughter as his car started up.
“You better not have fucked her up against my front door, Jack!” she called after him.
As his car went down the driveway, he yelled, “Not yet, Holly!”
Holly shook her finger at me in a tsk-tsk fashion and went inside. Seconds later, she turned the porch light out on me.