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“Uh, Lacey?”
“Yes…?” She slides her fingers through my hair and rubs those gravity defying breasts against me.
“What are you doing?”
“That should be obvious.”
She goes in to kiss me and I lift her from me and put her down. I’m not even turned on. There’s a throw on the back of the sofa and I grab it, shaking it out and tucking it about her neck.
I feel like a complete idiot.
She’s hot, if given a helping hand from modern plastic surgery and fillers and all the rest of the shit out there. There’s no denying she’s fucking hot. And she’s willing. This is also a private location, designed for this kind of thing so no one else will know and…I’m not turned on.
All I can think about is Elliot.
I appreciate the female form that’s very naked next to me, but I don’t want that female. At all.
I blow out a long breath. “I think you got the wrong idea.”
“No, Ryder Sinclair asked me over. I know what that means.”
I rub my eyes. “You kept calling. And texting. You wanted to talk. You sounded upset. I thought… I thought maybe you needed a space to breathe, and I thought if you wanted to talk to me you could.”
“I’m here and I’m not in the mood to talk,” she says her words practically a purr.
“Thing is, I’m not in the mood for getting down and dirty. There’s someone else.”
The moment those words appear, I know it’s true and what they mean. It’s not just I like Elliot. I have actual deep feelings for her. And I’ve been an ass.
A scared little boy hiding behind his reputation.
Lacey walks her fingers up my arm. “We forgive each other, right? I used you to push the fame of me and my fake husband. And it worked. I feel bad, and you used me for sex.”
“I’m pretty sure we used each other for sex and I didn’t sign up to be fodder.”
“You have me now. I’m very adventurous, you know that.”
“Yeah, but the thing is, I don’t want you. I want her.”
“So? Pretend I’m her. I really don’t care. I just want to feel and feel wanted.”
She leans over and tries to kiss me again and I’m pushing her away when someone clears their throat.
Elliot.
I know that disapproving sound anywhere.
“I think,” Elliot says, “you should go.”
“Her?” Lacey frowns. “It’s her, isn’t it? You love her.”
“I don’t do love.”
The words come, empty, automatic, and Elliot says, “He doesn’t. I work for him.”
Lacey gets up and goes back to the bathroom and gets dressed. She’s about to leave when Elliot stops her. “One word of you being here and I’ll destroy your career. Any career. You’ll be flipping burgers and poor when I’m done with you. So this is between the three of us.” She pulls a card from her bag. “My lawyer. There’ll be an NDA waiting for you by nine a.m. tomorrow. If you don’t call tonight, and don’t turn up and sign tomorrow, I’ll start thinking you like smelling like fast food grease, the kind in the middle of nowhere pit stop grease.”
Lacey runs like she just spoke to an evil demon and I’m thinking she might be right.
