One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

She deserved more.

Of all of his companions over the years, Teela was the least likely to enjoy the drama of being papped. But he’d had to find out if she had another side. If she’d ultimately see the value in this weekend as a commercial proposition.

Several now-estranged members of his family had. One or two deranged co-stars, girlfriends and acquaintances from his pre-stardom days, plus a physiotherapist who told such out-and-out lies, Haydn had sued him to shut him up rather than risk there being any hint of his common-garden variety knee injury being a deterrent to being cast in an action movie. And those were the ones he remembered being an issue.

Offending Teela hadn’t been fun. Holding back from her made him feel that chilled sense you got when you walked into an overly cold room. It was a sense of foreboding. He didn’t like it at all, especially as he’d been delighted to find her still in the suite when he’d convinced himself she’d take the opportunity for a clean exit, stage left, in the normal manner of someone who had a life to get on with that he had no part in.

She deserved a lover, a partner who had her back, supported her ambitions and dreams.

He’d considered not telling her about the photos. They only had a few hours left together and he didn’t want to spend them dealing with the grubby side-hustle of fame. He wanted to get his arms around her and whisper naughty, hot words in her ear and hear her husky laugh, feel her body relax into his at the same time as she twitched with anticipation.

That was the way they should end the weekend. Cocooned from the reality of the world and wrapped up in each other. It wasn’t detachment, but it would feel a fuckload better.

He could’ve had one of his team reach out to Teela with advice once they knew which media organization bought the shots. That would’ve been efficient, helpful and a way of manipulating her by strongly suggesting she keep her head down and didn’t call attention to herself.

It was also cowardly lion stuff and Teela deserved to know there was a significant amount of money to be made for very little effort, even if it

meant they ended on that low. He wouldn’t have judged her ill for it. It’s not like they meant anything to each other beyond the bedroom.

Even if they looked like they could. And who knew better than he did how deceiving looks could be?

That Facebook photograph. He should’ve known it was being taken for one thing. Not being aware of paparazzi with sniper-like long-range lenses was a daily hazard. Not being aware of a phone camera pointed at you from two foot away was reputation threatening.

He liked this woman who was hanging around his neck as their tongues tangled. He liked her a fucking lot. It was all over his face on that bridge. It would be all over him now, if she knew how to read him.

He’d been entranced by Teela since the moment on the balcony when he’d craved a few minutes alone and found himself not irritated not to be. He’d been delighted by her ever since, even when she was mad at him. People mostly got mad at him for effect, for some game they were playing, not for real.

He was also touched by her loyalty when she didn’t owe him anything.

There were a few hours of the evening left to enjoy each other’s company and send her off right, the way he should have four nights ago.

Four nights ago, she was a reminder he no longer smoked when he was stressed. She was serendipity in a wet dress and ruined shoes. She was racoon eyes and a smart mouth and the kind of distraction he hadn’t realized he ached for.

Tonight, she was integrity and decency, safety and family. Entirely unexpected.

Tomorrow she’d be regret.

And that was unexpected too.

If she lived stateside, he’d suggest they see each other again. Not an arrangement, he wouldn’t want to tie her to something as crudely casual as that, but friends. Inevitable benefits, because they’d not been able to keep their hands off each other. The longer they’d spent together, the more he’d wanted her. It usually worked the opposite way. Hot and heavy trickled down from pleasantly engrossed to no thank you, via that was nice and sure why not. With Teela, after a whole weekend, sex was still gut-tightening excitement and he wasn’t anywhere close to done with it.

And as she deftly undid his belt and zipper and dealt with underwear to wrap her hand around him, it appeared she wasn’t either.

“Oh fuck, that’s good.”

“Undress,” she said. “I want you naked. Now.”

He almost went down on his ass trying to unlace his shoes. She’d left him so light-headed. No wonder he didn’t want to let her go. He’d called her easy and that was another reason. It was a poor choice of word. Where was a script editor when he needed one, but she was easy. Made no demands, had no expectations. Hadn’t asked him for anything except time and attention he was more than willing to give. She wasn’t a passenger either. Most of the things they did this weekend had happened at her suggestion.

And she’d leave like she came into his life—inconveniently.

“You okay down there?” she said, standing above him, feet planted wide, wearing only her panties.

Finally, shoeless and balanced on one knee, he wrapped his hands around her thighs and pressed his face into her belly. “I admit to struggling.”

“I can see that,” she said fingers in his hair. “Would you like some help getting rid of those trousers?”

He helped himself to two handfuls of her ass and a mouthful of her mound.