Breaking Hollywood (Wardrobe #2)

And, now, I’m imagining her without her pajamas on.

Naked Speedy.

And…now, my cock’s decided to join the party.

Great. Just fucking great.

I sigh.

She flops back onto her pillows. “God, you’re so grouchy at times.”

“Yeah, and you’re fucking ridiculous.”

I turn my head to her, my face unable to keep the smile off it.

She returns that smile with one that I feel is like her dainty hand curling around my hard cock.

“You putting this movie back to the beginning, so I can watch from the start?” she asks in a soft voice.

And, because I love tormenting myself with her presence, I put the movie back to the beginning and press play. I reach over and turn my bedside lamp off because movies are always better in the dark.

Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Evans.

Then, I settle back on my pillows to watch one of the best movies ever made with the object of my desire lying right next to me.

Gabe

I wake to the smell of apples and a warm body curled up against mine.

Speedy.

My arm is around her, her head on my shoulder, her arm resting on my stomach, her leg slung over my left one. Her steady, even breaths tell me she’s sleeping.

I’m guessing she wouldn’t be lying on me like this if she were awake.

The TV is still on, but the movie has long since finished. Gucci is asleep at the bottom of the bed. I have no clue what time it is. But I don’t want to move in case I wake Speedy up.

I’m not ready to let her go just yet.

We must have fallen asleep while watching the film. Fuck knows how we ended up lying together in this position, but fuck if I’m not happy about it.

Having her in my arms with her body draped over mine like this…it’s the sweetest kind of hell. And it’s a hell I’d happily spend an obscene amount of time in.

Who knew holding a woman like this, without being inside her, could feel so good?

I’ve always gotten off and then got off with every woman I’ve slept with, no matter the circumstance.

No cuddling. And definitely no attachments.

Speedy is the first woman I’ve actually slept with without screwing first.

I glance down at her face.

Her eyes are closed, lashes brushing her cheekbones.

Fuck, she’s pretty. Perfect. Beautiful.

I can’t stop looking at her.

And, right now, I don’t have to. I can freely stare at her without fear of being caught.

Her rosy lips are full and plump, like she’s just been kissed. And she should be kissed, all the time, by me.

Freckles that I’ve never noticed before dust the bridge of her pert little nose. A tiny mole is near the corner of her right eye. A small scar on her chin looks like a chicken pox mark.

My fingers itch to touch her. To see if her skin is as soft as it looks.

But I can’t. I shouldn’t.

But just one little touch can’t hurt, right?

I lift a hand to her face and brush the tips of my fingers over her cheek and to her forehead. I brush the stray strands of hair off her face. Then, I move the backs of my fingers down her other cheek to her jaw where I trace my fingertips along it, stopping near her mouth. My thumb hovers dangerously close.

I can feel her warm breath on my skin.

I wonder how she tastes.

Fuck, I want to know so badly.

My mouth is dry with longing. Constant longing. And wanting her.

It’s driving me insane.

Look how bad it’s gotten. Like a total creeper, I’m touching up her face while she sleeps.

I withdraw my hand and force myself to look away. I take a deep breath.

“Gabe.”

The word is so quietly spoken, I think I imagined it.

Until I look back to her and see her eyes are open.

And filled with need. They mirror my own.

God, I want her.

Her hand comes up and caresses my cheek.

“Ava.” Her name comes out like a warning. A warning I don’t mean.

She traces her fingertip across my lips, leaving a path of fire in her touch.

I cup her cheek and press my forehead to hers as I try to control my feelings.

“Kiss me,” she whispers.

Those two words.

Two fucking words.

And I’m undone.

My mouth crashes onto hers, and she immediately opens for me on a gentle moan that I feel all the way down to my cock.

My tongue sweeps inside her mouth.

Just one taste. And that’s it. I’ll stop after one taste of her.

I pull the tie from her hair, and my fingers slip inside the silky strands. I angle her head, so I can kiss her deeper.

Her hand is on my chest, sliding up, moving over the T-shirt I really wish I weren’t wearing right now and around to the back of my neck. Her leg shifts up mine.

With my other hand, I grab the back of her thigh and move her leg higher. I can feel the heat from her pussy against my thigh, through her clothes and mine.

I want to lick her, taste her, and hear her screaming my name.

I lick her mouth like I want to do to her pussy.

I’m burning. I’m an inferno. I’m out of control.

And I’m never out of control.

But, fuck, she feels good. Too good.

My tongue is plundering her mouth. My hand is moving higher up her thigh, and those soft whimpers that she makes with each climb of my hand are just fueling me on.

I don’t know how to stop. If I can stop.

My cock is like granite in my shorts.

I want to fuck her. I want to do everything to her.

She moves closer, pushing herself against me. My hand leaves her thigh and glides up her waist.

She whimpers when my fingers graze the underside of her tit. Blood roars in my ears.

I cup her tit in my hand, skimming my thumb over her nipple.

She groans and presses her pussy against my thigh, trying to find friction.

I want her tits in my mouth. I want to lick and bite her nipples. Drive her as crazy as she’s been driving me these past couple of weeks.

Her hand moves down my chest. When she reaches the waistband of my shorts, I shudder and kiss her harder.

I want to feel her small hand around my cock.

But, if she touches me, I’ll fuck her. I’m sure of it. I won’t be able to stop once that line has been crossed. Because, for some reason, I have zero fucking control around her.

I need my control back.

Using gargantuan strength, I catch hold of her hand before it can slip around my dick, and I slow down our kiss to a stop.

Her eyes open, rejection and hurt lining them.

The last thing I want to do is hurt her. I can’t hurt her. I won’t hurt her.

I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss it.

“We can’t…my foot,” I say.

“Oh. Would it hurt if we…” She leaves the words hanging.

I nod in response.

It’s not a total lie. It does hurt every time I come when I jack off to thoughts of her, and it would probably hurt even more if I fucked her, but it would be more than worth the pain.

That’s not why I stopped.

I stopped because I can’t fuck someone I pay a salary to.

I just can’t.

But, because I’m a masochist and I just can’t help myself, I kiss her one more time.

Just one more taste.

I softly kiss her. Loving the moan that hums from her mouth.

Then, I force myself to stop.

I pull back and wrap my arms around her. She snuggles into me, her head resting on my chest.

I press a kiss to her forehead. “Night, Speedy,” I whisper over her skin.

“Night, Hoppy.”

I smile at her use of that stupid nickname, and then I stare up at the ceiling, knowing I won’t get a second of sleep for the rest of the night.

Not after that. Not with her lying in my arms. And definitely not with me hating on myself for being so fucking weak.

A rule I’ve stuck to for close to a decade, broken, because I’m so desperate for this woman.

Well, at least I didn’t fuck her. So, I guess I have that.

But I have to stay away from her from now on.

Says the man who still has her in his arms.

Tonight. I’ll have tonight, and then tomorrow, things will go back to how they were.

She takes care of me while I’m stuck with this fucking thing on my leg, and I pay her a wage for doing so.