Captivated by You (Superstars in Love 1)

She blushed. “Then why did you stop kissing me? I wouldn’t have stopped you if you hadn’t pulled away. You could’ve had meaningless sex with someone you know for once, and I wouldn’t have cared when you left me.”

His heart twisted, while at the same time his erection screamed at him for denying himself what they both wanted. With her, she would always mean more to him than a meaningless fuck. Even if it’s all he would be to her. If he gave into the temptation to take what she offered and leave in the morning, he would never be the same. She would haunt him night and day, and he’d be able to think of nothing else but her—and what they could be if only he’d had the balls to stay.

His gaze collided with hers, ripping out his heart with the confusion he saw in hers. “Because with you … I can’t do it. I won’t.”

“I see.”

Let her take his response as she would, but it’s the best he could give her tonight. If he told her the truth, he’d only be hurting them both. Come morning, he would be back in Hollywood—if he could get a tow truck out here. And from now on, even if he went to bed alone every night, she would picture him as a man-whore, sleeping his way through Hollywood one aspiring actress at a time. He’d seen to that, even though it hurt to say something so ruthlessly untrue. She didn’t need him ruining any chance at a normal life she still had.

He’d go and fuck it up, just as he did every other rel

ationship he’d ever attempted. She deserved better. So instead of chasing after her, he watched her walk away and up to bed. Alone.

Chapter Four

Lacey punched her pillow, angry with herself. Angry at life. Angry with Mark. Yeah, mostly angry with him. He could sleep with every floozy in Hollywood, but sleeping with her challenged his moral code?

They were stuck with each other until a tow truck could come to pull him out of the ditch. She would never get another shot at Mark Delaney again. Would it be so wrong to take advantage of the situation, and get some fun out of it? She wasn’t a shy teenager anymore. Why deny herself hot sex with her longtime crush?

He might be trying to resist the tension between them out of some misplaced sense of honor, but now was not the time for chivalry. For years, she’d watched his movies, thought back on all of the time they had spent together. She’d always wondered what would happen if they saw one another again, what she would do.

Out of all the scenarios she’d imagined, not once had she thought he would refuse to touch her, or that she would let him. She couldn’t allow him to leave without getting a taste of what could have been if he’d stayed. Lacey didn’t want to look back on this night twenty years from now, and regret not having the nerve to tell him how she felt. She wanted him.

She swung out of bed, feet hitting the cold wood floor. The clock read one a.m. Despite stewing for three hours, Lacey didn’t feel the least bit calmer. Even worse, he hadn’t come knocking on her door, apologetic and horny. Mark had held his ground. He didn’t want her. What was she doing? Surely she wasn’t desperate enough to throw herself at him. To beg.

The hell she wasn’t.

She opened her bedroom door, marched down the stairs, and into the living room. He sat on the couch watching a movie. He’d removed his jacket and striped shirt, and wore only his black pants. His tight abs, which she had admittedly suspected might have provided by a body double in his movies, taunted her. Teased her. Her fingers itched to trace the lines of each muscle. Longed to get the chance to know the intimate lines of his body.

A glass rested in his hands. The bottle was significantly emptier than when she had left. God, she hoped he wasn’t plastered. Mark looked up at her through hooded lids, the champagne flute hanging loosely between his fingers. His dark brown hair stuck up in odd little places, reminding her of how he would always drag his hand through his hair when he got upset.

She plucked the glass out of his hand then set it on the table. He raised a brow but didn’t speak. Instead, he lounged back on the couch and watched her. Reaching down, she lifted her oversized t-shirt over her head, letting it hit the floor beside her feet. Clothed in a red bra and matching panties, she lifted her chin and stared at him.

“What the hell? You n-need to put your shirt back on,” he rasped. His eyes went wide, as he fisted his hands in his lap. His gaze slid down her body before snapping back to her face. The desire in his stare was so hot she pressed her thighs together to ease the ache he’d created.

“No.” She shook her head slowly, walking toward him with purposeful steps. She hoped he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was beating, or how unsteady her knees felt. “Can you tell me you don’t want me? If you don’t want me, then say so. I’ll leave you alone. But if you do …”

She drifted off, allowing him to finish the thought on his own since she doubted her own ability to do so. What if he noticed that beneath her bold act, she was nothing more than a fake? Lacey had never seduced a man, wasn’t used to stripping down and demanding sex. But she couldn’t back down now. She’d gone too far.

He let out a groan. “Of course I want you. But there’s something you don’t know. Tomorrow—”

She straddled his lap and pressed her finger across his lips. “No buts. Tonight, we just enjoy each other. No questions. No expectations of a future together. Just be mine for one night. My own personal Christmas present, delivered to my door. Mine.”

He groaned and closed his hands around her waist, his jaw tight. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to push her away, or pull her closer. “Lacey …”

He pulled her down and smashed her lips down on his. He rolled her beneath him, his hands sliding into her hair. Delivering a fierce, possessive kiss, his teeth grazed her lower lip. She needed him to move faster. To not stop, or hesitate, or second-guess.

She ran her hands down his chest, fingers gliding across smooth sinew and muscle. He made a little sound in the back of his throat and continued to nibble on her lower lip. “Are you sure?” he asked, his lips moving up her chin, to her ear.

Was she sure? “Hell yes.”

He didn’t respond, but captured her lips again, softer this time. His hands slid down her neck, then traced the swell of her breasts to the spot where her bra cups were attached to one another with a little red suede bow. Beneath his soft touch, her heart sped up, and she trailed her fingers from his abs to his hips. His erection brushed against her, but they still had too many clothes on for her to be satisfied.

He tore his mouth from hers and kissed a path down her neck, over her shoulder, and to her chest. When he reached behind to unclasp her bra, she arched her back and held onto his shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath her hands. He dropped her bra then claimed her lips again. His hands closed on her bare breasts, squeezing gently. Her mind spun from the combination of his kiss, and her body shivered under his touch.

She moaned into his mouth, desire pooling in the center of her stomach. When he rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, she gasped at the force of pleasure he created. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she pulled him closer. Needing more. Needing him.

He seemed to get the message because he lowered his body against hers, his fingers working their magic as he deepened the kiss. He rubbed his erection against her, sending a deep shot of pleasure to her core. When he repeated the movement, she writhed in his arms.