His eyes darkened even more if that were possible, to a blue as deep as midnight. "Dammit," she heard him whisper under his breath. Then she heard nothing else but the roaring in her ears as his mouth claimed hers and his free hand grasped her hair tightly.
Instead of fighting him, as she knew she should, she pulled him closer. She was used to working out her anger with sex. It's what she'd done for years. Her male companions knew that, knew how to deal with her, and were okay with it. It had been too long since she'd had some relief, and Everett was too good at pressing all her buttons. With her hand on his back, she found the waistband of his boxers and slid it inside to grasp the tight contours of his ass. She felt his cock grow hard against her belly, and she dug her fingernails into his ass in response.
Everett groaned into her mouth. He let go of her to free his hands, which moved to the collar of her T-shirt. Without warning, he yanked, and a rip opened at the point of the V-neck. He yanked again, and this time her breasts were exposed. Before she could protest, his talented mouth was suckling one rigid peak.
He slid his hands under her ass cheeks and lifted her easily to his waist. Instinctively, Bay wrapped her legs around him. Everett continued to tease her breasts while he ground his erection against her clit. The clothing between them did little to hide their arousals.
When Everett abandoned her breast to suck at the base of her neck, Bailey thought she would come unglued. She cried out his name and yanked at his hair until he raised his head up to hers. When she saw his face, reality slammed into her like a brick wall. She didn't see a man who desired her; she saw the actor from a hundred movies. She'd seen that look on him before-up on the big screen during every love scene he'd ever performed.
Disappointment was followed quickly by fear. She'd never before gotten herself into a sexual situation in which she didn't have control. Could she stop this before they went any farther? Was he man enough to respect her wishes or would he push?
Before he could kiss her into losing her will, she pushed at his shoulders and shook her head vehemently. "No, no, no, no … Stop. Please. I can't. We can't … " Tears came unwillingly to her eyes. She blinked quickly, forcing them away.
Everett stilled and stared. "If that's what you want, Bay," he said gently.
She pushed at him again. "Yes, it is. Let me go." She knew desperation colored her voice, but she couldn't push her fear away. And behind the fear, she knew, was shame. He was only using her. And she had fallen for it.
"Okay. Whatever you want." He lowered her feet to the floor and released his hold. She grasped the edges of her torn shirt and held it together over her chest before scurrying around him toward the other side of the room. Everett took a moment to lean his forehead against the wall and compose himself. His blood roared through his veins and pulsed painfully through his hard dick. "Are you okay?" he asked, still facing the wall.
"I'm … I'm fine," her shaky voice replied. She glanced over her shoulder to see him turn back toward her. Her eyes were drawn downward to the tent of his boxers created by his hard-on. She felt her cheeks heat but managed to raise her eyes to meet his again. This time he looked different. She couldn't put her finger on it. Not the happy-go-lucky fake grin, not the camera-ready lust. He looked more real, softer somehow. She grabbed her hair tie from the bedside table and pulled her hair up in a quick bun. It was a routine that made her feel less vulnerable-it took away her femininity and gave her a sense of authority. "We can't do this. You're my client."
Everett ran a hand over his face. "I know. I'm sorry." He shrugged then flashed that grin she was beginning to hate so much. "I just love a good fight. You surprised me, and I lost control."
"Ugh. So you think you can just act like a caveman?" She jerked another shirt out of her bag and turned her back to him before pulling the ruined one off and replacing it with the new one.
"No, of course not." He walked over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. Bailey was relieved to see his erection was starting to subside. It was hard not to stare at something pointing right at her. "Bay, tell me what happened here."
"Nothing happened. Why can't we just drop it and move on?" she argued.
He raised one eyebrow, in that move Bailey swore every actor was required to learn. "Really?" he asked with distain. "You really call this," he picked up the torn shirt from where she'd tossed it, "nothing? Or what about this?" He grabbed at his crotch with his other fist. "Or what about the scratches I'm pretty sure are on my ass? Or that mark you're going to have on your neck?" His voice rose with each word, and Bailey prayed no one else in the house could hear him. "You're sure all that's nothing?" he continued. "'Cause I'm pretty sure it was something. At least for me. And if you were faking, then you're a damn good actor, and you should win an Oscar for that role." He stood abruptly and strode out of the bedroom, leaving her alone.
Bailey sank onto the bed, her head pounding. What had she gotten herself into? He's only acting, she told herself. You can't believe a single thing he says or does. It's all fake. It may have been fake for him, but her reaction was all too real. Her center ached with unmet need, and her breasts still tingled from his ministrations. She'd had some good sex in her life, but holy hell, maybe Everett really had come about his reputation honestly. If the taste she'd gotten had been any indication, he knew exactly what women wanted. She would need to keep her wits about her and her guard up if she was going to survive the rest of the week in his presence without falling under his spell.
"Fuck," she swore.
Chapter 8
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Everett lit a cigarette and leaned against the porch railing. He inhaled the smoke deeply and waited for it to calm his frazzled nerves. The darkness of a country night enveloped him, and the only light around was the glow from the tip of his cigarette.
He had always enjoyed these quiet nights. Just the crickets, the frogs, and an occasional barking dog in the distance. Not tonight though. Tonight he couldn't get the feel of Bailey pressed against him off his skin, her smell out of his nose, or the sight of those delicious breasts out of his thoughts.
Smoking was his vice. He'd managed to cut back considerably over the last few years, but it was still his crutch in stressful situations. And this was definitely a stressful situation-being stuck in the same bedroom with a desirable, strong, independent woman like Bailey was testing his every limit.
He heard the squeak of the screen door and exhaled a long breath. So much for being alone. He prayed it wasn't Bay because he wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her yet, no matter how crazy she had been acting.
"I thought I'd find you out here," a soft voice said.
"Sarah. What are you doing up?"
Her tiny figure joined him at the railing. "I heard you guys fighting. Thought I'd check on you."
Shit. Had Sarah figured them out? He offered her the cigarette. "What did you hear?" He tried to be casual, but even he could hear the tightness in his voice at the question.
Sarah accepted the cigarette and took a drag before answering. "Enough." She handed the cigarette back. "So … she's not really your girlfriend then."
Everett sighed. There was no use denying it. "No."
"That's too bad."
Everett chuckled. "Yeah."
Sarah turned to face him then. The night was too dark to see her expression, but he could feel the questions bursting to get out of her. "Do you like her?"
Sarah always got right to the point. No subtlety with her. "What does it matter? She's right. It's inappropriate, and I shouldn't have taken advantage of her."
"It matters because you can change those circumstances. I like her, and I think she'd be good for you."
Everett put an arm around her and pulled her into his side. "You just want everyone to be as happy as you."
She pulled away from him. "No, Everett, you're wrong. I've been watching you too. She challenges you, I can tell. And even though she's obviously used to challenges of her own, you challenge her too, in ways she's not used to."
"Challenge. Yeah, that's one way to put it," he said sarcastically.