Aced (6 page)

I tipped back my sports drink, taking long pulls of the cool liquid. It wasn’t just my thirst that had me drawing out my exit to get a start on the weekend—I was also half hoping a certain someone would move in my direction.
 

After Ace had shut me down fast earlier in the week, I’d kept my distance, since that seemed to be what he said he wanted. Emphasis on
said
. What he
did
, however, was a different story. He had no shame in watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking, and fuck if that wasn’t a stroke to my ego.
 

Someone’s always watching.

Wasn’t that the goddamn truth. I could tell you where he was in the room without even turning in his direction. Like now. He was near the exit door, gym bag over his shoulder and talking to Ron.
 

Jesus, this is pathetic. Just go talk to him.
 

After tossing the empty bottle in my bag to reuse later, I yanked the zipper up and turned to leave, but Russ stepped in front of me and I halted.

“Hey,” he said, giving me a shy smile. “You have plans tonight?”
 

“Actually, I was thinking a date with my bath and a bag of Epsom salt sounded pretty damn good.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad after this week,” he said. It looked like he wanted to add something to that, but instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground.
 

I waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, I said, “So you’ve got a hot date or something?”

His head snapped up. “Me? Uh, no. No hot date, I just… Well, my roommate mentioned there’s a new club that just opened in West Hollywood.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So I was just gonna say if you aren’t busy you should join me, but I mean, if you’ve got plans already—”

“I’m free tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow,” I said, my lips quirking up. “If that’s good with you.”

Something akin to relief swept over Russ’s face. “That would be cool. Yeah, tomorrow works.” Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me so I could type in my number. “Make sure to rest up,” he said, and when my eyebrows shot up at the insinuation in his words, he blushed. “I mean for dancing, not… Anyway. I’ll call you.”

“You do that.” I watched him as he hurried out the door, and it was then that I noticed Ace must’ve left.

Well, hell. There goes another wasted moment.
I shrugged my bag up my shoulder and trudged toward the exit, letting the door slam shut behind me.
 

“So do I get your number too?”

When I turned around, Ace was leaning against the building with his thick arms crossed over his chest. A sheen of sweat covered his tanned skin, most of which I could see through his white tank.
Dear God, why couldn’t you give me this guy as my grappling partner?
 

“
You
want my number?”
 

“You seem to be giving it away pretty freely, so…” He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Ah, okay. So this is about you feeling excluded.”

“No, it’s about safety.”

“Safety?”

“Well,” Ace said, and rubbed his chin. “What if there’s an emergency?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Yeah. Right.”

“So you’ll give it to blondie, but you won’t give it to me? Hardly seems fair.”

“You watching me?”

“Didn’t I tell you, Dylan?” he said, pushing off the wall and letting his arms drop to his sides. “Someone’s always watching.”

I looked around the empty lot and then back at him. “I don’t see anyone around, so why don’t you just ask me for what you really want?”

“What did blondie want?”

“A date.”

“So you’re going out with him, then?”

“Tomorrow. He doesn’t seem to have the same policy as you have when it comes to kissing. So why not.”

“Huh.” Ace tossed his keys up in the air and caught them. “Let me give you a lift back to your car.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Dylan.” He pinned me with those intense blue eyes, and if those didn’t have me melting into a puddle right there at his feet, his next words did. “Get in my fucking car.”

* * *

I HAD NO idea what I was doing. I. Had. Officially. Lost my mind. But I couldn’t seem to give a damn as Dylan slipped into the passenger seat beside me and the door slid shut. The interior of the Lamborghini was dark, even with the sun shining overhead. The tinted windows and black leather gave the space an intimate feel that instantly had my pulse racing.
 

I imagined what it would be like to have the freedom to lean across the gearshift, take his face between my hands, and crush my lips to his. Or to run my hand over his thigh, between his legs and—

“So… I’m in your car,” Dylan said.

Fuck yes, he is.
No one was more aware of that than me. Well, maybe Dylan, if the way his pupils had dilated was any indication. He watched me, patiently, as if trying to gauge my next move. I knew that I needed to start the car, ask him where he’d parked, and get going. But none of that seemed as important as taking in and really living
this
moment. I had been driving past and fantasizing about the man—
this
man,
who was now seated in my car by some weird cosmic twist of fate—for weeks, and there was no way I was going to rush a second of it.

“Hey,” Dylan said. “I can walk if you changed your mind.”

He shifted, reaching for the door handle, and that was when it happened. I stretched my arm across the console and finally touched him.
 

Up until now, I’d been extremely cautious when he was near, but there was no fucking way I was letting him out of my car yet. And with that thought in mind, I pressed the button on my keys and the locks slid into place.

Dylan’s head whipped around, and I couldn’t help the grin that tugged the corner of my lips up at his arched eyebrow.
 

“Did you seriously just lock me in your car?”

“Maybe.”

Dylan’s eyes dropped to the hand I still had on his arm holding him in place, and then they lifted, and the way he looked at me from beneath his lashes had my fingers flexing.
Christ, he’s stunning.
 

“You can let go…” he said, his voice noticeably lower. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The smart thing to do would be to remove my hand. But hey, I never claimed to be a genius.

“Ace?”

I blinked at Dylan, and as my brain began to catch up with what I was doing, and
where
, I snatched my hand back and opened my mouth, about to make up some excuse for my impulsive move. That was when Dylan turned in his seat and leaned over to press a finger to my lips.

Fuck. Oh fuck. What is he doing?
 

“Ace?” he asked again, and this time I swallowed, not really believing what I was allowing. It wasn’t a whole lot in the scheme of things. It wasn’t like we were making out or I was sitting there with my shorts down, getting blown. But to someone who hadn’t been touched the way he craved in years, it felt like fucking everything.

“Yeah…” I finally managed.

The sly smile that split Dylan’s lips should’ve been warning enough, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the self-assured man who seemed quite comfortable about going after what he wanted…no matter the price.

“How many times have you gone home and gotten off to me this week?” he asked.

I shut my eyes, and Dylan drew his finger down over my lower lip, parting it from my top one. Then he lowered his head to my ear and said, “I’ve lost count thinking about you.”

Jesus.
I pressed my head back against the headrest and couldn’t stop myself from stroking a palm along my now hard as fuck cock.

My breathing was labored as Dylan’s confession washed over me, but before I had time to respond, he was back on his side of the car.
 

“I have to tell you, though, in all of them, your mouth was on mine,” he said. “So it’s a
real
shame about your whole aversion to kissing.”

He was purposely goading me, and when I glanced over at him, he licked his upper lip.
 

“You gonna take me home now, hotshot? Or you want to sit here a little longer?”

I wanted to haul him across the console and shut his mouth with mine, but the reality was that even though no one was there right now, it didn’t mean it would remain that way, and clearly around this guy I had no clarity
or
good judgment.

“Home?” I asked. “Don’t you need your car?”

“My car’s back in Florida, so I walked. I’m staying close by.”

I nodded and started the engine. As it growled to life, Dylan ran his hand along the side of his door and groaned. The sound was erotic as fuck, and merely added to the ache between my thighs. It was a stark reminder of how desperately I wanted the man sitting beside me. I’d wanted him before I met him. But now, with him sitting so close to me, it was physically painful not to reach out and take him.
 

I placed my hands on the steering wheel before I did something moronic like grab him, and then I turned to see Dylan sitting forward in his seat checking out the sound system. Okay, that was safe enough. He liked my car. I could talk about that. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had friends in my car before. Even if I hadn’t planned to take him home, there was no harm in doing that. It wasn’t like I was going inside. Nothing suspicious…
right?

“You like?” I asked.

Dylan turned his head to look over at me, and his eyes, those spectacular fucking eyes of his, lit with mischief. “Oh yeah. I like.”

I couldn’t help myself then. I chuckled.
Damn, and I thought I was confident.
“I
meant
the car.”

“Yeah… So did I,” he said, and then pressed a button. The heavy beat of a rock classic throbbed through the speakers. “
Ahh
. I love this song!” he shouted, his right hand tapping the door in time to the beat.
 

I indulged him for all of two seconds before I realized I had no idea where he lived. I reached for the volume and turned it down. Then, when he frowned at me, I said, “Address.”

“Oh. Yeah. That might help.” He rattled off the address of an apartment complex I knew well. Hell, most everyone who came to Hollywood to try their hand in the acting world had spent some time in those apartments. The funny thing was they were—“The ones just down the street?”

When Dylan beamed at me, it was a miracle I could find my tongue to ask, “You live
literally
less than two minutes away?”

“Hey, I tried to tell you I could walk.”

“No one fucking walks in L.A.”

Dylan rolled his eyes, and damn if that didn’t have me wishing I had the right to set him straight.
 

“You didn’t exactly give me the chance to tell you that,” he said.
 

I immediately protested. “You—”

“Yes?” he interrupted, and reached for the volume control. I muted the music from my steering wheel and heard him mumble, “Showoff.”

“You could’ve said something,” I said as he sat back in his seat and fastened his seatbelt.
 

“Why would I do that when this has been so…enlightening?”

I shook my head, choosing to leave it at that. This had already gone too far. I’d already said and done things that I knew I shouldn’t have done, and the wisest thing I could do now was drop him off at his place and then go the hell home. Then I could get off to him, just as he’d guessed I’d done each and every night since I’d seen him, and possibly three times a night since I’d actually
met
him.
 

Fuck.
 

I needed to start thinking with my head—
the one on my shoulders
—if I wanted to keep my career intact. Not chase around after some guy I knew nothing about. The only thing I really knew was his name. Dylan Prescott. Hell of a hot name, too. It was one that was becoming easier and easier to shout out when I came all over myself each night.

Once we passed through the entrance of the apartment complex, Dylan pointed to the left block of buildings. “I’m right here.”

His voice broke through my jumbled thoughts, and I slowed the car to a crawl and then stopped by the curb. I waited for what felt like an eternity as he sat there beside me, seemingly waiting for something too. Then he sighed and reached for the door handle. When he tried it and nothing happened, he glanced over at me and raised his brow.

“You need to unlock it.”

“Oh,” I managed, and pressed the button on my side of the door. When the locks released and Dylan pulled the handle, I leaned across the car and took his wrist in a tight grip, unwilling to let him go with things so…unfinished. His eyes connected with mine, and without thinking it through, I said, “I’m having a party at my place tomorrow night. Why don’t you stop by? You can bring blondie too, since a lot of the cast and crew will be there.”

His eyes narrowed as he sized me up, and I wondered what he was thinking in that moment. Then he nodded.
 

“Okay, I’ll run it by him.”

I sighed, strangely relieved by his answer, and then let him go to sit back in my seat. “Okay. Here. This has my address on it,” I said, and grabbed a card out of my wallet, passing it to him.

“You have your address on a business card? That doesn’t seem real safe.”

I chuckled and shook my head, finally feeling back on even footing with him. “No. That is what you need to get in. They’ll have your name at the gate.”

“Ohhh, fancy.”

Dylan pushed the door open and then shut it behind him, and as I stared at his ass through the open window, I heard myself saying, “You don’t know the half of it. See you tomorrow night, Dylan.”

And before he could respond, I’d put my foot on the gas and was pulling away from the curbside.

5

FRUITY BASTARD

IT WAS SATURDAY night, and from where I stood on the second-floor balcony of my house overlooking the sea of people spread out below me, I had a clear view of my front door and everyone who entered. And though well over two hundred bodies had walked through that entrance and were now blanketed in a dazzling display of pulsing lights, the one person I’d been hoping to see was still missing.