The Things She Says(52)

It could happen.

A tremor stopped her words cold. Music pounded through the sudden hollowness of her chest. He’d spent the last four days telling her how important this movie was and how his entire career hinged on it. Every second he wasn’t with her or sleeping, he clacked away on his laptop, dealing with Important Director Matters. Kyla mentioned contracts, which meant legal entanglements she’d never even considered.

She couldn’t let him give up the movie. For any reason.

So, either Kris was going back to L.A. in a few days to make his movie like he’d said at dinner, and she’d not only have to accept it, she’d have to encourage him to do the engagement after all. Or it was already too late and she’d ruined everything.

The last option, the one where Kris ended up with her and the movie, fell into a distant, highly implausible third place.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to know which one it was. Not tonight. Tomorrow was soon enough to ask.



They’d left the club hours ago and Kris still couldn’t banish the edgy scrabbling at the back of his neck. Awake and restless, he stared through the open drapes at the dark skyline and pulled VJ’s sleeping form a little closer, though she was already almost on top of him. It was never close enough, especially not after exposing her to Kyla and the person he always became around her. VJ cleansed all that from his system.

His plan to take her to the club to solidify the temporary nature of his relationship with VJ hadn’t worked. The part where he’d tried to back off again hadn’t worked, either. All night, he’d carried a sharp, underlying awareness that VJ was in love with him.

Clearly, they defined the words fun and temporary differently, or she’d never been on board with either from the beginning, which was the most likely. He’d known better than to get involved, but hadn’t been able to resist. Then, when she did exactly as he’d come to expect—said what was in her heart—he acted surprised. His bone-headedness in the shower had been driven purely by the ache in his throat from not being able to say it back.

He’d never said that to anyone, never even come close. Never thought for a moment what he felt might be love. Until now.

VJ made it easy to feel. Necessary to feel. She was in love with him, and the knowledge settled inside with a heavy, unique relevance. Honestly, he’d been eager to leave the club and be alone with her. He’d never cared about that before. Hollywood parties were endless and he usually left unaccompanied. How had this whatever-it-was with VJ progressed this far?

VJ sighed softly and burrowed her head into his shoulder a little deeper. He breathed in the wave of sweetness from her hair, hair he’d washed with his own hands.

The emotionally heavy tang of her on his skin, with that cinnamon hair splayed across his chest as she slept naked in his bed, unearthed a fierce longing in his gut to grab on to her and never let go. To maintain this cocoon she created around the two of them. When he was inside it, anything and everything was possible. That’s how it had progressed this far.

If anyone could make him believe in fairy tales, she could.

He threaded that amazing hair through his fingers and cupped her face, gently kissing her awake because he had to. She was a persistence of vision he couldn’t erase. She stirred and rolled with a tiny wiggle until they were snugged tight with her rounded bottom against his hips. Drowsily, she steered his palm to her breast and murmured, “Need you, Kristian. Love me.”

In an instant, he sank into her. Tight inside her, inside that dreamlike state that was somehow reality and he fell into it closefisted. Prolonged it as long as he could. VJ arched against his chest in a beautiful bow and tangled her legs with his, thrusting him deep and tunneling under his skin with her soft sigh.

At the moment he fractured, the theme for Visions of Black came to him on a spur of inspiration. It was so brilliant and obvious. How had he missed it?

VJ collapsed into the pillow and fell asleep wrapped firmly in his arms. His brain clicked into high gear with lighting angles, set pieces, script changes. But he couldn’t give up holding VJ just yet. Soon, he wouldn’t have a choice but to give her up. His life didn’t have a fairy-tale ending and he’d be selfish to continue down this spiral when he couldn’t promise her anything past the next few days.

The longer he spent with her, the wider she’d crack him open and the harder it would be to keep the lid in place. The harder it would be to control the darkness he knew lived inside, lurking, waiting to turn something beautiful into ugliness.

At dawn he crawled out of bed. Work beckoned. And he needed some time away from VJ or he’d never regain his balance.