Hollywood Ever After (Red Carpet 1)

He pulled me to him, almost into his lap. His breath was ragged against my face as he kissed me. His heart was thundering under my hand on his chest. His hands slid around me. They opened against my back before they fisted, clutching my dress and holding me close to him.

I took his face between my hands and kissed him back, long and leisurely. It was empowering, and satisfying, that I could affect him so strongly. I smiled against his mouth as his breath continued to escape him in short, ragged gasps.

I stroked my hand across his face, my forehead resting against his.

Our eyes locked.

My heart stopped.

His face was flushed, his eyes wide and…expectant.

Panic hit me in the stomach and I pulled away from him to give us both some space. “Thanks for bringing me home.” My voice was unsteady.

I let myself out of the car and closed the door quickly behind me, making my way to the house as steadily as I could. I didn’t turn around as I let myself in the house. I pushed the door closed and leaned against it, the whir in my head overwhelming me.

I took a deep breath and tried to clear my head.

His face–the way he was looking at me.

I swallowed. Get a grip, Claire.

I was overreacting. He’d just had an intense sexual experience. That was all. The look on his face was satisfaction, nothing more. If he felt anything for me, he’d get over it. Not that his feeling something would be bad.

It would be wonderful.

I shook my head, trying to find reason.

Just because I was inexperienced and overly romantic didn’t mean he was. Just because I let myself think about him too many minutes over the course of the day didn’t mean he thought about me. Because his face, his presence, did more than stir my desire didn’t mean I did the same for him. But the look on his face made me hope.

You’re pathetic, I scolded myself. Be realistic.

Nothing about us made any sense. But my heart didn’t seem to care. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I shivered, shaking my head. I was terrified. The truth was I wanted more.

I’m very drunk, that’s all.

I stepped out of my shoes and walked quickly into the kitchen, my head spinning. After gulping down a tall glass of water, I wiped my face with a cool cloth. My hands were still shaking, frustrating me even more. I tossed the towel onto the counter and headed to my room. Once there, I pulled off my dress and clicked on the computer.

With music bouncing off the walls, I checked my email. There was an e-card from Daniel for my birthday, which I deleted without opening. Nothing from Mom yet.

Still rattled, I threw clothes around the room as I hunted for my robe, growing increasingly agitated when I couldn’t find it. I tried to slam the door but the pile of clothes stopped it before it could. That’s when I found it, my black kimono, hanging conveniently on the hook on the back of the bedroom door. I glared at it before I tugged it on and tied it tightly in place.

It was hot. I was hot. I opened the glass doors onto the balcony, staring down at the white beach below.

I closed my eyes, trying to tune everything out. In my mind, I could still see him… My heart ached. Why had I run out? Why was I freaking out?

Because I don’t want to be vulnerable ever again. I don’t want to hurt anymore.

My reasoning seemed flawed. I was already hurting…a little. But it was because I was running away.

“Claire?” I jumped a little, turning to him.

Josh stood straight, a wary look on his face.

“You scared me.”

“Just now? Or in the car?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.

I pulled my gaze from his.