The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

“Well now. . .nursing school? My goodness, Devyn, you sure do know how to pick the golden ones, don’t you?”

“Quinn,” I moan at her implication of my past sexploits.

“Devyn,” she repeats again. Right now, she reminds me more of a begrudgingly loved older sister than a friend. “Well, Larsen, I hope that you’ll join us for the game this afternoon.”

In question, Larsen peers up at me beneath her long dark lashes. “Game?”

“Ah, the um. . .Cubs are playing and we have tickets. Tessa was-” I start, but then my cousin pops in and interrupts. “Tessa was going to offer you her ticket. It’s good to see you, Larsen.”

Peeking around my shoulder, she smiles kindly at my cousin. “Same.”

Chiming in again, Quinn says, “Okay, since it’s settled, we’ll see you two at the game. We’ll give you some time to settle in,” she adds with a knowing smirk and wink.

We watch as she strolls through the glass doors toward her husband waiting beside a red Ferrari.

“Are you up for a baseball game this afternoon? I was just going to go with Tessa.” I wait anxiously for Larsen’s response.

“Of course. I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

Bending down, I press my lips to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I’d break all my plans for you.” And I realize that those words hold more truth and meaning than she’ll ever comprehend. I would go to the ends of the Earth for her, and I’m afraid that may be our demise. I know from experience that once you reach the top, there is only one other direction to go – down.

Together we enter the elevator, and even when a crowd files in behind us, I can’t help but keep my attention solely focused on Larsen. Afraid if I turn away she’ll simply disappear into thin air.

I thank my lucky stars that my room isn’t on the upper floors because we’re one of the first to exit. My arms are itching to wrap around her lithe body.

“Devyn,” she murmurs, her voice trembling as we approach my door. “Are you really okay that I’m here?”

I fumble with the key insert, my body straining within the confines of my clothes, my grip on reality fading fast.

“I can’t right now,” I growl, my frustration with this damn lock growing with each passing second.

Finally, the tiny light turns green and I spin us inside the room, our feet tripping over the suitcase Tommy slipped inside just before we arrived. I slam our bodies against the hotel wall, my hips pressing against hers before I capture her mouth in a desperate kiss.

“God, I missed you,” I tell her, our lips brushing past each other at my words before I suck her plump bottom lip into my mouth. Slithering my hands from her waist downward to the cusp of her round globes, I grip her cheeks in my palms. “Wrap your legs around me,” I demand. Her compliance is immediate as her dress parts and her hot center lands in alignment with my cock. I rock my hips against hers, loving the way her body arches toward me with each pass.

Breaking our kiss, I carry her toward the bed before depositing her on top of the white duvet. I kneel between her legs, taking her in. She’s more beautiful than I remember.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous.” I can’t hold back the compliment, and as the rosiness in her cheeks deepens, I know that she wasn’t expecting the flattering remark. Of their own accord, my palms reach out toward the tie of her dress, my eyes silently begging her to let me unravel the bow.

She bites that damn lip I was just sucking on and for a moment, I want to ignore the dress to pay attention to that piece of her mouth again. But my itching hands have another idea as they tug at the bow resting along her waist.

The material drapes loosely over her frame and I stare at it in confusion when it doesn’t part as I expected.

“Here, let me help,” she says as she slips a small brown purse from across her chest. I’m not sure how I missed that. Then she tugs a separate belt-like fold of the material free from the other side.

Ah, it wraps around. “It’s like fucking Christmas,” I tell her as I pull apart one side of the dress and then the other, exposing the white lace beneath.

Taking in her beauty, I let my hands settle on her ankles, my thumbs skimming around the delicate bones that protrude beneath the skin. She squirms from the soft touch and my admiring gaze.

At a leisurely pace, my fingers forge a path up the insides of her legs until they reconvene at the apex of her thighs. The backs of my fingers stroke the patch of lace, the supple material feeling like I’m touching a scorching hot furnace.

“We don’t have to do anything,” I rush out, though it pains me to do so.

Reaching out, she gently rests her hand on my forearm. “I know.”

My eyes stay fixated on the juncture of her legs, hypnotized as my own fingers slip past the barrier of fragile material to explore the softness underneath. I feel as if I’m looking in from the outside, a ghost in an out of body experience. “I just don’t want you to think that this is all I want from you.”

“Devyn,” she says. Her voice is strong and res