A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (27 page)

“That’s it.” I climb on top of him and hold his wrists above his head. I huff in mock annoyance. “Now I’m going to have to do things to you.”

He laughs. “Well, if that’s what you need to do, my love.”

And with that, I pounce.

Chapter Thirty

Opening my eyes the next morning, I realize I’m smiling. Yes, smiling. Who smiles when they sleep? Well, evidently I do, and my cheeks hurt. I rub them carefully so as not to wake my boyfriend. Yes, my boyfriend, Mr. Beautiful. I can’t help but smile again.

Ouch.

I look over at Dan. He’s lying on his belly with his face turned my way and his cheek smushed up a little. His pouty, sleepy mouth is parted slightly as he breathes with a soft, easy tempo.

I smile again.
Ow.

In quiet contentment, I stare at his peaceful, slumbering face.

I don’t want to move, not ever, but . . . I really have to use the bathroom. Since there’s a wall on the other side of me, the only way out is over him. I slowly edge myself out from under the sheets, naked, and brr, it’s chilly without his warmth against my skin.

I carefully climb over him and grab his shirt from the floor. Buttoning it up, I tiptoe my way to the bathroom down the hall. After using the facilities, I figure since I’m up, I’ll shower.

As the hot water adds another layer to my contentment, all I can think is—I’m really here. He’s really here, albeit sleeping sweetly, and we’re together again. It feels like it’s all falling into place.

I wash my hair, wondering what my next move in life will be. Oddly enough, I’m not worried like the old me would have been. I’ve somehow come to a place where I’m satisfied—deep in my soul satisfied. I’ve never felt like this before.

Clean and refreshed, I towel off and button Dan’s shirt back up. It’s so soft and worn. I use his comb for my hair. I want to brush my teeth, too, so I head into the living room where I remember Dan putting my suitcase, but it isn’t there.
Damn
. I peek into his bedroom again. He’s still sleeping, and my suitcase is on the other side of the room. If I move it or unzip it, I’ll wake him. So I go back into the bathroom to search for another toothbrush, which I’m happy to find.

Ahhh
. Now all of me is clean. I really want my clothes, but since I can’t get to them yet, I’ll have to deal with wearing only Dan’s shirt, which isn’t so bad—it smells like the perfect man.

Far too awake to climb back into bed, I figure I’ll make some coffee for us.
Us.
I beam.

Last time I was here, he had a coffee pot. I scan the kitchen, spotting it behind some pizza boxes. Stacking those on the floor, I fill the pot with water and pour it into the machine. I search the cabinets and find a filter and coffee. After scooping in the right amount, I press ON, but before I can turn around, my hips are pinned against the counter. I can’t move.

“Ahh!” I yelp and then giggle, realizing. “What are you doing?”

“No, what are
you
doing? You aren’t supposed to be out of bed.” Dan wraps his arms around me and nuzzles his face into my hair.

“I was making coffee. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You know, my love,” he says, sniffing my freshly washed hair and kissing my head. “There are house rules.”

“House rules?” I chuckle, still pressed against the counter facing away from him. I grip onto his strong forearms where they’re crossed over my chest.

“Yes. House rule number one—you may not leave the bed without discussing it with me first,” he says and kisses his way to my neck, warming me from the inside out.

“Discuss it with you? I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Doesn’t matter. You still have to run it by me. That’s why it’s a house rule.”

“So if I have to use the bathroom, I need to let you know?”

“Right.” He runs the tip of his nose up my neck, sending shivery tingles down my legs.

“Did we somehow get transported back to 1950 overnight?” I giggle.

I can feel him smile against my skin. “No, the bed got cold, and I’ve had enough of a cold bed.”

I melt and reach up behind my head to scratch at his neck a little. “Me, too. I’m sorry.”

He gathers my damp hair and brushes it over one shoulder, completely exposing my neck on one side. “House rule number two,” he whispers between kisses to my neck.

“Oh boy.” I laugh.

“House rule number two is that you are not allowed to shower without me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I must supervise all showering and perhaps participate in it, too.”

“
Perhaps
participate?”

“That’s right.” He nuzzles me more, his face scratchy.

“So you just want to watch me wash my body? What kind of lame house rule is that?”

He stops nuzzling. “You’re right. House rule number two is that I assist you with the washing and the rinsing.”

“Ooh, rinsing too? Bonus. Okay.”

His body leans harder against mine, causing me to bend over a little further and brace myself against the countertop. As he nibbles my neck, he draws his hands down my silhouette to the hem of the shirt and back up under the shirt, sliding it up. He stops dead when he gets to my waist.

“You don’t have anything on under this?” he says, his voice deep and rough.

I shake my head.

A stream of hot air rushes against my neck. I suddenly notice something hard pressing against my ass. He reaches under my arms to the buttons of the shirt and pops the top one open.

“House rule number three . . .”

“Another one?” I ask, snickering. “How many are there?”

“I don’t know. Go with the flow.” He chuckles against my neck, which is relishing each of his kisses. He unbuttons another button, enough to expose one of my shoulders. He spins me around to face him but keeps me sandwiched against the counter as he captures my mouth with his.

So much passion first thing in the morning is exhilarating! I never experienced such a thing before.

Dan pops open two more buttons, and his hands drop to my ass over the shirt. He scoots one side of the fabric up to expose a cheek and slaps it once.

“Ow!”

“You have such a nice arse.” He cups both cheeks and hoists me up onto the counter, his shirtless body perfectly situated between my open legs. As his lips brush against mine, he says, “House rule number three: You must always dress like this. No exceptions.” He kisses me harder now, his tongue taking no prisoners.

I pull back. “What if Colin stops by?”

“He won’t be. I made a deal with him last night,” Dan says before kissing me more.

I stop him. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

Dan stares at my nearly unbuttoned shirt that still covers me. He licks his lips as he draws his fingers down the center of my chest. Staring at the column of my exposed skin, he says, “That if he left us alone, I’d do the karaoke version of
Grease
with him.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.” Dan pushes the fabric off my shoulders, exposing my breasts. Cupping them, he says, “I don’t want any interruptions. Seven weeks was long enough of an interruption, my love. Now, shh.” He leans forward and, with his mouth, stakes claim to my breasts, sending me racing for the mountaintop at eight a.m. My head falls back, and I moan.

I reach for the rest of my buttons and unbutton them in record time. The shirt falls completely open and slips down my arms.

He straightens up and gawks at me a moment as I use my feet to push his pajama bottoms down to his knees, freeing his morning glory.

“House rule number four, Dan,” I pant, staring at his mouth.

He furrows his brow in confusion.

“House rule number four is that if I’m sitting naked on the countertop then you have to have your way with me.”

“Fucking hell!”

And off we go, like a good ol’ morning rush of a far better, much hotter kind.

Blood rushes through my veins. I climb that peak so darn fast, and as we stare into each other’s eyes, grinning like fools, we release together—explosively and passionately.

We catch our breaths, hugging each other. After a few moments, I pull back and hold his face, kissing him sweetly.

“I love you, Claire,” he says with the most beautiful, earnest eyes.

My heart soars. “I love you, too.”

Dan smiles wide and glances at the coffee pot that’s just stopped brewing. “Coffee?” he asks with a playful grin.

I giggle. “Yes, please.”

Dan helps me off the counter. He pulls up his pants and grabs two mugs from the cupboard while I button my shirt.

“Would you like me to make you some eggs?”

He smiles. “That would be fantastic—if I had eggs.”

“Oh, okay. Do you have any oatmeal?”

He shakes his head.

“Cereal with milk?”

“No milk.”

“Bread?”

He shakes his head again, pouring the coffee.

“Crumbs? Jesus, Dan, what do you eat?” I push him aside to open the cabinets and notice how bare they all are. I turn back to him, and he hands me a mug of steaming coffee with a grin.

“I eat out a lot, hence the pizza boxes and fast-food wrappers, smarty-pants.” He raises his mug to mine and clinks it smugly.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Nice. I was willing to cook for you—naked—and now you ruined it.”

“Naked?” His face falls.

I shrug. “Or dressed as a librarian or Wonder Woman. I was going to let you choose, but now? Forget it.” I sip my coffee, keeping an eye on him.

“Come on, my love,” he says, purposely throwing ‘my love’ in there. He puts his mug on the counter and attempts to hug me. I keep my mug between us.

“Don’t you use those words against me,” I joke, placing my coffee mug onto the counter and hugging him back.

“Sorry, my love. It just rolls off my tongue.”

I smirk. “I like your tongue.”

He nods proudly. “I know.”

I stretch up and kiss him.

He breaks off. “You’re going to stay for the whole three weeks, right? You aren’t going to leave sooner, are you?”

“Well, if I have to subsist on coffee, I might make a run for it.”

He laughs. “I guess we should get some shopping, then.”

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea.”

He grows serious and exhales with a heavy sigh.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

He shakes his head and glances down, his hands around my waist. “It’s just that . . . I’ve only just got you back—I mean
just
—and I don’t want it all over the papers yet. I want to hide alone here with you for a while.”

I brush a stray bit of hair off his forehead. “Me, too, but it’s different this time. Being seen out with you won’t ruin my job since I don’t have one—unless you’re worried about yours.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about my job at all.” He pauses, seemingly nervous to say what he’s clearly on his mind.

“Tell me, Dan.”

He sighs. “The media almost ruined this between us once, and this time might be worse when they find out we’re together. You might not be able to handle it and will want to leave again.”

I shake my head. “No, I won’t. I realize it won’t always be easy, but I’m in love with you. I mean, we just had a quickie on the kitchen counter after we had sex three times last night. That’s four times in the span of like ten hours! How are we still standing, by the way?”

He laughs.

I clasp my hands behind his neck and continue. “We’ll take it as it comes, all right? I trust you, you trust me, and we promised to always talk, so we’ll figure it out. Please don’t worry that I’ll leave.”

He grins but still seems worried.

I say, “What if publicly you don’t say we’re dating. Maybe you can say we’re just friends if you’re asked. It’s a time-honored Hollywood tradition, you know.”

He laughs. “Okay, friend.”

“No, no, no. You can’t call me that to my face,” I tease. “You know what I want to hear you say.”

“Okay, my love,” he amends, tracing my cheek with his finger. “Appear as friends from the outside, but be so much more on the inside.”

“Yes.”

We seal the deal with a kiss.

I swat his ass.

“Ow!” He jumps back, laughing.

“Just wanted to repay your compliment from earlier. You have a spectacular ass, too.”

“It’s arse.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “House rule number five is don’t correct your girlfriend’s use of American if you are British, and if your girlfriend is hungry, you need to feed her.”

“That’s two rules, and I did just feed you,” he jokes, waggling his eyebrows.

I smack his ass again. “Feed me with something substantial—like a meal, not a snack.”

His mouth drops open in shock for only a moment until he reaches down and slings me up and over his shoulder. He starts walking us to his bedroom. “I’ll show you a meal. House rule number six: You need to eat whenever I feed you.”

I squeal, hanging upside down. “As long as I feel satisfied for once.”

“You are so going to get it.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” I snort and swat his ass one more time before he throws me down on the bed and satisfies me again and again and again.

Chapter Thirty-One

It’s been a week since Dan and I reunited, and we’ve left the house only once for groceries and a new charger for my phone. Other than that, we’ve had no contact with the outside world. Well, except for the squealing conference call I had with Camille and Bridget, where they forced every last detail out of giddy, giggling me. God, I miss them. I haven’t seen them since I left New York, and although I don’t want one second of my time with Dan to pass, I know that once he leaves for Mexico, I’ll have something to look forward to—seeing my Fairy Slutmothers. Thankfully, they’re also ready and willing to help me move my stuff from my parents’ house back to the city. Lord knows I’ll need a buffer for that confrontation.

Other than that, Dan and I have been simply enjoying one another—in every sense of the word. We make dinner and make love. We talk and tease. I help quiz him on his lines, and he helps me get undressed. It’s bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

Wednesday afternoon finds us lying on opposite ends of the sofa with our legs tangled together. I watch TV while Dan, looking as beautiful as ever in his fitted navy tee and jeans, reads over his script again.

“I heard that was a good movie,” I say, watching a commercial for
The End of Time
, an action film.

Dan looks up from his script to the TV and then to me. “You like action films?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Huh,” he says, puzzled, and looks back to his script.

“Is there something wrong with me liking action movies?”

“No, but I thought you only liked those girlie chick flicks,” he teases, rolling his eyes.

“I like all kinds of movies—thank you very much—including action, fantasy, sci-fi and romantic comedies. I even like your movies.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. Then he tosses his script onto the floor, lunges, and lands full-body on top of me. I shriek.

Tickling me and nuzzling his scruffy face against my neck, he makes me squirm like crazy. Then he kisses me until I’m breathless. He leans up on his elbows and stares down at me with a smirk.

“I want to take you out on a date.”

I smile wide. “You do? I thought you wanted to hold me prisoner here for two more weeks.”

He grins. “Well, I do, but I also want to be normal and go out on dates.”

“Can you be normal?”

“I can try.” He snickers.

I stroke his cheek and lean up to kiss him. “I’d love to go on a date with you. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe see that film?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

We get ready and drive to the theater. Dan buys us a giant tub of popcorn, Junior Mints, and a vat of soda from a girl behind the counter who almost passes out when she realizes Daniel Chase is her customer. Her poor hands tremble so obviously, and she can’t talk. With wide eyes, she clumsily gathers our treats. I totally know that feeling.

The manager strides over to Dan. “Hello, I’m Gary Winter, the manager. Pleasure to have you in our theater, Mr. Chase. Is there anything we can get for you, or can we accommodate you in any way?”

I notice Dan grow tense and uncomfortable. “Thank you, Mr. Winter. Um . . . if you and your employees could just keep this quiet, I’d appreciate that.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Dan directs us quickly toward the theater after we load our snacks in our arms.

The theater is empty, which isn’t surprising considering it’s mid-afternoon on a Wednesday and the movie has been out for several weeks. We settle the giant drink between us while I hold the popcorn. I glance over at him in his baseball hat as he brings the box of Junior Mints straight to his mouth and pours.

“Whuh?” he says with his cheek full of candy when he catches me staring.

“You’re so cute. You have your baseball hat on, and you’re dumping candy in your mouth,” I say, smiling like an idiot, overwhelmed by how attractive he is and how lucky I am to be with him.

“You don’t like the hat?”

“I love the hat. Reminds me of the first time we met. I love how your hair sticks out on the sides and the back. Very dashing,” I say, toying with the spiky bits that stick out. “It’s hard for people not to notice you.”

He grins. “Stop it before I get us both arrested for indecent exposure.”

I giggle, but he stills seems uptight.

“What’s the matter?” I ask quietly, leaning closer.

“I just don’t want to walk out of the cinema in two hours and find a mob. I’d like to be on a normal date with my girlfriend.”

I glance around the theater—no one else is here. I balance the popcorn bucket in the seat next to me before I attack him. Locking my arms around his neck, I kiss him hard. He’s startled at first but then gives in to the kiss, his breath sweet and minty from the candy.

When I’m through, I sit back in my seat like I haven’t just accosted him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, laughing.

“Kissing my boyfriend.”

He snickers. “I think I like taking you out on dates.”

I laugh as the movie starts. We sit, munching for a while before putting the snacks to the side and holding hands. Eventually, I rest my head on his shoulder. I’m not even sure how much of the movie I watch. I’m just completely wrapped up in my date with Mr. Beautiful. It’s perfect.

“Did you like it?” he asks at the end of the movie when the house lights come on.

“Yeah. It was really good. I got so nervous during that car chase when they were on that burning bridge and the lava was coming toward them!”

“I know—you cut off the blood to my fingers.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” I laugh. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was really cool. I thought the way the hurricane came in and blew the blobs of lava everywhere, setting things on fire, was excellent.”

“You think you’ll ever do an action movie again?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. If something catches my eye.”

We get up, gather our trash, and throw it away. His posture stiffens as we get closer to the main lobby.

“Moment of truth time, huh?” I say, smiling and hip-checking him, hoping he’ll relax.

He grins uncomfortably.

We walk into . . . normal, business-as-usual. No mobs, no rush of people. Just a few patrons and staff—as it should be. Dan’s body visibly relaxes.

As we near the main exit, the manager spots us.

“Hope you enjoyed your movie, Mr. Chase. We’d love to have you back again.”

Dan smiles wide. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” He opens the door for me, and we leave with no distractions.

“Would you like to go for some dinner?” he asks as we get in the car.

“Sure. I was thinking I could make—”

“No, no. I want to take you out.”

“Oh.” I look down at my jeans, tank top, and zip-up hoodie. “I’m not really dressed for a restaurant, Dan. When I packed to come out here, I didn’t expect to go on any dates.”

“Well, thank God for that.” He smiles. “Listen, I don’t care what you have on. You look amazing in whatever you wear, although I must admit I am partial to your birthday suit. That is definitely my favorite outfit.” He chuckles.

“You’re such a guy.”

“I’m taking you out anyway. How about cheeseburgers? I know this place that has the most amazing cheeseburgers, and you don’t need to dress up to eat those.”

“Sounds great.”

We arrive at Langley’s Pub, and all is quiet. With only a few patrons around and no one at the pool tables, we decide to sit at the bar. After reading the menu, we order cheeseburgers and fries, and then we sip on beers and chat.

“I have to say that I really like going on dates in the middle of the afternoon,” Dan says, looking around the mostly empty room.

“Me, too . . . so how long are you going to be in Mexico?”

“Six weeks. And then a month or thereabouts back here in L.A.”

I nod and sip.
How will I handle being away from him after spending every day for three weeks with him?
My heart sinks at the thought.

He must be reading my mind. “I guess this is as good a time as any to ask you to come visit me on set. It’s in a tropical area, so you can relax and so on while I’m filming—go snorkeling or whatever.” He sips again, watching me carefully.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I’m not sure I can handle too much time away from you, to be honest, and I want to look forward to seeing you again, you know?”

I smile, feeling the exact same way. “We’ll have to see, Dan. It just depends,” I tease.

“Depends? On what?” He grins.

“On if you win our tie-breaker game of pool. Last I remember, we were tied.”

He sits back on the bar stool, examining me with the sexiest smirk I’ve ever seen on him. “Yeah, I remember kicking your arse last time. So you’ll only visit me if I win the game?”

“
If
,” I reiterate.

We finish our food in no time and head over to the pool tables that are tucked away around a corner, effectively hiding us from view. It’s the ideal location for a rematch with Mr. Beautiful.

Dan racks the balls with a mischievous smile. “All right. Go on. Show me your crappy break again.”

“It is not crappy,” I say, hitting the cue ball as hard as I can. Sadly, only a few balls break away from the pack.

“Really?” he comments with a cocked eyebrow.

“Oh shut up, you.”

He laughs and aims. “You may or may not be aware, but when you travel outside the country, you should really only bring one suitcase—a really small one.” Plunk goes the yellow solid into the side pocket.

“Huh?”

He leans forward, aiming at a second ball. “You know, for when you come to Mexico. You probably shouldn’t bring much clothing.”

I grin, realizing where he’s headed with this. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. It costs extra to check another bag, so you’ll want to keep it to a carry-on.” Plop goes the red ball.

“Right. Yeah . . . and so what would you suggest I bring?”

He shrugs, examining the table. “Maybe a shirt or two but mostly knickers and maybe a bikini. A really small one.” He leans over to take a shot.

“Maybe a bikini? I thought you said I’m going snorkeling.”

“You don’t need a bikini to do that,” he says, sinking the purple ball.

“You said I’d be snorkeling while you were filming, so unless you want me naked without you—”

“You’re right. Pack a wet suit,” he says, missing the fourth ball completely.

“Of course, you have to win here in order for me to visit you,” I say, eyeing the table for my turn.

“That’s really not a question. I’ll win.”

“You’re that confident, huh?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head. “We’ll see.” I say, unzipping my hoodie and removing it.

“What the fuck, Claire?” he says with a quick hiss. His eyes fixate on my chest.

“What?” I ask, glancing down at the clinging white tank top, which is transparent enough to see my pert nipples saluting.

“You don’t have on a fucking bra,” he says, his voice deep and dark.

“They’re being washed at your house. It’s what happens when you pack for two days and stay for three weeks.” I shrug and lean over to aim. From across the table, I can feel his stare aimed at my chest and swear I hear him licking his lips. I hit one ball in and look up at him, purposely sticking my chest out a little.

“You know, your staring is a little distracting. Let’s keep this fair, please,” I say.

His eyes widen as he stalks around the table and snatches me by the waist. “Fair? This—” He nods down. “This is not fair. Not at all. Do you want me to lose? Do you
not
want to visit me?”

“Of course I want to visit you. I’m just curious as to how badly you want me to . . . come,” I say suggestively, smirking and slinking out of his grasp. I aim.

From the corner of my eye, I see him run his hand along the back of his reddened neck, completely uncomfortable and entirely turned on. I’m in awe of the power of boobs.

I hit the ball while his eyes focus on nothing but my chest. The blue striped ball slips into the pocket; the green striped one plops in next. Now we’re tied.

“I cannot fucking believe you are cheating like this,” he says quietly, sitting on a nearby barstool and still staring.

I straighten up and look at him. “Cheating? How do you figure?”

“What do you mean how do I figure? You’ve got . . . you’re . . . I mean, look at . . . they’re right . . .
ugh
! How am I supposed to concentrate? It’s entirely unfair.”

I arch my back a smidge. “You’re just upset that I am going to win.”

He narrows his eyes. “All this proves”—he waves a hand at my breasts—“is there is no way you’re winning. No chance. Because I will be having my way with
them
in Mexico. So you should put on your sweatshirt because this”—he waves his hand at my breasts again—“is pointless.”

I tuck the tank top into my jeans, nice and snug, causing it to cling even further to my breasts. I look down at my two lovely friends and back up at his gaping mouth. “Nah, I think I’ll stay like this.” I turn back to the table and shoot again, getting a fourth ball in. “I’m up 4-3, my love.”

“Don’t you ‘my love’ me. You are cruel and . . .
ugh
. . . fucking hot, okay?” He huffs as I try getting another ball in but miss.

He stands to take his turn across the table from me. When he bends over to aim, I lean over, too; the shirt dips away from my chest, exposing much more cleavage.

He freezes and stares straight down my shirt.

“Thank you for the compliment, Dan,” I say seductively and straighten up.

He shakes his head and aims, muttering, “So fucking unfair. So unfair.”

Sadly, the magic of my breasts only lasts so long. Before I know it, he’s way ahead and gloating.

“Well, my love, looks like your little plan didn’t work. Looks like I’ll be the ultimate winner,” he says, lining up his shot for the eight ball.

I roll my eyes, annoyed that my near toplessness does nothing to derail his victory.

“I am so good at pool. And here you thought your two distractions would make me lose. HA!” he says, pulling back on his cue.

At the same moment Dan pushes forward on the cue, my cell phone rings, startling me and causing me to yelp, which causes Dan to hit the ball too hard, which causes the white ball to slip into the pocket.

He hangs his head in defeat as I snicker and dig the phone out of my back pocket.

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I speak with Claire Parelli, please?”

“This is she.”