The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance

Nodding her head, she drops the rest of the dirty plates in the basin and grabs a towel, drying her hands as she guides me toward Jeff’s table, snagging a set of keys resting beside a stack of bills. She slides out the key with the purple cover and hands it to me.

“You know, I like you. I didn’t at first, I was afraid you were exactly like everyone had said, but you surprised me. I see a lot of people come and go in this place. It takes a lot to surprise me.”

“Thanks?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says as she parts, and I wonder how she can be so certain, but without questioning her, I leave the diner and wonder which direction I should head to find the library.

But my sense of direction takes me almost directly across from the apartment I’m staying in. Of course, this would be where the library is located. And I can also keep an eye on the window overlooking the street. The one with the woman looking outward toward the sky, oblivious to the man with the internal pain festering at an alarming rate below her on the sidewalk.

I don’t see Larsen at all that night, except in my dreams where our kiss replays over and over again like a silent film. I was watching it from the outside, envisioning the way her body curved against mine as I pulled her closer, our lips a blur of passion and lust as they melded together. The small film was as perfect as I could imagine. And it was real.

As I wake, the remnants of her taste still linger on my lips. I almost hesitate at brushing my teeth, afraid to lose her essence. Fear surges through me as I consider what this day may hold, and my hand holding the toothbrush begins to shake. I wonder if she’ll be herself, acknowledge me, or hide back into the shell she was in when I first arrived.

I run my hands through my hair and stare into the mirror across the way, my bare chest and face filling the small oval glass. A knock sounds on the door to the apartment and I startle at the noise. I pay no attention to the fact that I’m clad in a pair of blue boxer briefs, although I should probably worry that it’s a fan or photographer at the door.

Checking the peephole, I can’t hide the grin as I swing the door wide to find an anxious Larsen on the other side. Her mouth hangs wide as if she’s about to begin speaking, but her focus lands on the deep V-cut at my hips dipping below the waistband of my boxers.

“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time, though hers is far more breathless than mine.

“Let me throw on some pants,” I mumble, taking a step back from the door as I hold it open for her to enter. My lack of clothing is probably making her uncomfortable.

But as she’s done so many times before she surprises me as she reaches out and takes hold of my bicep, her eyes now pinned to my face.

“Wait.” Without releasing her grip on my arm, she closes the door behind her and takes a step closer to me. I brace myself for her apology almost anticipating it.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” There it is. I practically deflate under her hold, my shoulders drooping toward the floor. “Devyn. I’m not sorry for the kiss. Not at all. Just for how I reacted. I was embarrassed that everyone saw that moment, it was special, and I didn’t want to share it with anyone.”

Well, shit. That changes everything now, doesn’t it?

Despite the fact that my morning breath could knock someone on their ass, I grip her shoulder and pull her against me, instantly sealing her lips with mine. This time we have the pleasure of losing ourselves in each other and as she rubs her body alongside mine. On instinct, my thigh slips between her legs and I can feel the heat emanating from her sex. Larsen shifts h

er body slightly so she can rub herself against my thigh and I have to stifle my urge to take her back to my bedroom.

“Devyn,” she moans against my mouth and my cock jerks forward behind my boxers.

My hand slides down her back and around to her front, slipping behind the waistband of her jeans and panties. I can already sense how close she is to falling apart, her movements are twitchy and her kiss is urgent, powerful, hypnotic. As my fingers reach the slick heat of her folds, she rocks her hips forward causing my hand to glide against her sex, my thick thumb hitting her clit at just the right spot. Circling the tight bundle, I open my eyes to watch her face in amazement as she pulls back. Her lips are parted and slick from our kisses, her cheeks rosy in desire, and her eyes glossy with anticipation.

Larsen’s body begins to quiver as she grips my shoulders. “Oh, God,” she whispers, her back arching against my arm as her head tilts toward the ceiling as she falls over the precipice. Larsen’s chest rises and falls beneath her yellow shirt. Her breathing is deep and heavy as she gathers herself. I wish that she didn’t have the barrier blocking my view of her curves.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” I respond, adjusting my cock beneath my boxers as she pulls away.

“I. ..ugh. . .need to go to work.”

Not all of my synapses are firing as I stare at her blissful face. “Sure.”

Larsen takes a few tentative steps back toward the door to the apartment, ready to make her escape. “Are you going to come by?”

“I will if you want me to.”

And I really hope that she does.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Okay.” She licks her lips as she turns to exit the room.