Blindsided (5 page)

I dig my toes into his thigh. “I’ll put it on a Post-it and stick it to my mirror so I’ll see it every morning.”

“You do that.”

“I will.” I hold his light-brown gaze for a moment before giggling again. “Seriously, Cole. I don’t need the drama or focus he’ll bring to my life.”

“It’s always confused me how you can be so…quiet…when your mom is a megastar and two of your closest friends are Hollywood’s new babies.” He chews his thumbnail. “How are you not a movie star?”

“I don’t know either,” I lie, hating every second. Twenty years of solid friendship and he doesn’t even know what I do. “I’m proud of all of you, and I love you all, but it just isn’t for me. I guess I’m so immersed in this world that I see the less-than-glamorous stuff, too.”

“Makes sense. It’s pretty shitty sometimes,” he agrees. “You’re better off baking cookies or selling clothes or some shit.”

“I’m not allowed to bake cookies. Ada steals them all and it rockets her blood pressure.” I sigh.

“Come to my house and bake me and Dad cookies.” He laughs and gets up. “I gotta go. Charlie will kick my ass if I’m late for another meeting. Apparently, her phone is ringing off the hook.” He winks and backs out of the room.

“Bragger!” I yell after him.

He laughs. Then the front door shuts. His car rumbles outside as he drives to meet with his agent.

I swing my legs up onto the sofa and sigh heavily. It would be easier if I could just tell Cole about Lea V., because then my reasoning for staying away from Corey would make more sense. Right now, I just look like a flighty, indecisive little girl.

And let’s be honest, I’m not going to talk to my mom or great-aunt about it.

With a heavy sigh, I grab my drawing pad from its hiding place in the coffee table drawer, open to my latest design, and get to work on next fall’s collection.

“You know, Leah, I’ve always thought about going running.”

My hand hovers over the coffee pot and I turn to Aunt Ada, her tiny frame swamped by a fluffy, pink robe. “Why on Earth would you go running?”

“For the same reason you do.”

“I run to keep fit, Aunt Ada. Not because it’s fun.”

“A gun? Who said anything about a gun?”

I look at the ceiling and shake my head, but a smile creeps onto my face. “Don’t worry. Coffee?”

“Toffee? No, dear. It’ll stick to my dentures.”

“Coh-ohff-ee,” I repeat.

“Oh! Coffee. Six sugars please.”

I choke back a laugh. One is more than enough for her. I don’t even want to think about what’ll happen if she has more than that. I pour two mugs and then join her at the island in the kitchen.

“You’re missing five.” She holds the mug out at me.

“Ada, you’re not having six sugars.” Mom’s voice filters through the house. “Do you remember what happened last time? You ended up at the hospital because your diabetes thought it was Christmas for your pancreas.”

I look down to hide my laughter.

“I’m older than you, Gracie.”

“And you agreed to my rules when you moved in here.” Mom walks past and opens the door. Nine thirty. Mail time.

“What was that? I can’t hear you.” Ada winks at me.

I smile and shake my head. Crazy old lady. “I’m going for a late run. See you later.”

“Can I have your coffee?” Mom yells after me.

“Sure!” I tie my hair back as I step into the early morning Los Angeles sun.

From the entrance to Mom’s sprawling house, I can see right across L.A., the skyline reaching into the sky and spanning the horizon. It’s quiet and secluded up here, safe from the media, a total haven for those rich enough to own a house away from the craziness of the city.

I hit play on my phone, tuck it into my bra, and hook my headphones over my ears. Then I turn right and jog up the road, sweeping a loose lock of hair behind my ear. Running is freedom—the steady beat of my feet against the asphalt a constant rhythm I adore.

That’s why, even with a folder full of designs to alter and finish and finals coming in for next month, I’m out here. It would be all too easy to hole myself up in my room and finish my work, sure. But I’d become a recluse, only emerging for a multipack of chips and cookies like a rabid kind of monster.

Something sharply connects with my ass, and I scream, turning around and swinging my fist at the body behind me. I make a connection with something solid, and I yank my headphones out in time to hear the resounding grunt.

“Corey! What the fuck?”

“Shit!” He rubs his arm. “Is your fist made of steel?”

“Did you seriously just run up behind me and slap me on my butt?” I shriek, my eyes widening. “You pig!”

He holds his arms up. “I thought you’d hear me coming!”

I hold my headphones up. “No. Oh my God.” I rub my left ass cheek. Shit. That hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He laughs.

“No, you aren’t.” I stuff the headphones down between my boobs and run away from him. “You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass.”

“It’s a fuckin’ nice ass.”

“Great. I always wanted your approval on it.” I roll my eyes.

“You wouldn’t be the first, babe.”

“Good grief. You really do think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” I glance at him and the way his dark hair curls over his forehead.

The muscles in his arms flex as he runs alongside me and he’s barely breaking a sweat. And he looks good. Better than good.

Damn hot is what my eyes are feasting on right now.

“I only think what others say.” He winks.

“Well, obviously.” I pick up the pace.

“Tryna lose me, Leah?”

“Now what gives you that idea?”

“Your not-so-subtle speeding up.”

“There’re brains as well as brawn. I’m impressed.”

He laughs, the deep vibrations of it crawling over me. “I love your attitude.”

I raise my eyebrows and lean against a tree to catch my breath. Wiping my forehead with the heel of my hand, I reply, “I don’t have an attitude.”

“Oh you do.” His eyes grab mine, an amused smile making the corners crease, and he runs his fingers through his hair. “And that’s what makes you so damn attractive to me.”

“My attitude?”

“Yep.”

“Shit. If I had known that, I wouldn’t have been nearly half as cocky as what I was when we met.” I sigh and stretch upward. “Or on Sunday night.”

He smirks, and his blue-green eyes flick to the strip of skin revealed by my shirt sliding up my stomach. He moves forward, closing the space between us. His body is so close to mine that I can feel the hotness of it radiating from him, teasing my exposed skin.

I drop my arms, looking up at him. Hell. If I took one tiny step forward, my front would be flush against his and he’d sure as hell be able to feel the little hop-skip-jump dance my heart is taking up.

Corey places his hand on the tree, barely a breath away from the top of my head, and I force myself to swallow the butterflies swirling in my stomach and rising up into my chest.

“No, you wouldn’t,” he says in a low, husky voice. “You didn’t exactly push me away on Sunday, did you?”

“I should have.”

“But you didn’t.”

My tongue flicks out and wets my bottom lip. His eyes flick down to the movement then back up. I flatten my hands against the tree, curling my fingers into the rough bark.

“You trapped me. I couldn’t move.”

His lips twitch—barely—and he steps forward. That space I was thinking about earlier? Yep. Gone.

His leg slides between mine, his free hand resting on my hip. His mouth—oh God. It’s barely millimeters from me.

My head screams,
Get off!

My body screams,
Get on!

Traitorous little bitch
.

“What about now?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over my lips. “Can you move now?”

I draw in a long, slow breath and slowly bring my right leg up. My thigh slips between his, and I hold it just below his dick. “I can and I will.”

“No, you won’t.” He slides his hand up my side and cups the side of my face with a grin. His thumb traces the line of my jaw, and he tilts my face up. “Because you’ll be needin’ that pretty soon.”

“So sure, cowboy,” I whisper. “You caught me off guard once—”

“Twice.”

“Twice,” I correct, grasping his wrist and tugging his hand down. “Now, I’m telling you—move your ass or my thigh and your cock are going to get acquainted pretty s
harply
.”

Corey shoots his hand out and pushes my thigh down. At the same time, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. Then he kisses me hard, and when he pulls away, his teeth graze my bottom lip.

“You—” I start as he runs backward, winking.

“See you at dinner, darlin’.”

T
hat shower accomplished fuck all except for relieving a little of the sexual tension coiled inside my body.

Ever since she walked away from me at the theater, she’s consumed my mind like a fucking addiction. One taste was all it took—one taste of those soft, sweet lips and I need more.

I crave more of her.

I should’ve run in the opposite direction when I saw her earlier. I was finishing, ready to head home, but then she was there. Her hair swinging in its ponytail, running pants hugging her hips and legs, her ass tight and round…

And fuck. I had to touch it. Had to know if it felt as good as it looked. And damn, the punch in the arm was worth it.

I pull some pants on and rub the towel through my hair. I wish to hell she’d just give in and let me fuck her. One night. That’s all I want—one night to explore that tight little body, to explore its curves and contours, to make it tremble beneath my touch.

To make her scream my name.

To get her the hell out of my system.

I tug a shirt over my head, rub some wax into my hair, and then grab my phone and car keys. Dinner at her house. I should have said no, but no one in their right mind turns Grace Veronica down when she asks for something.

She asks, you do. Simple as fuck.

Plus, the opportunity to piss Leah off… It’s like a game. Who can out-snark the other? Who’ll win the battle of the bitch? And I love every second because the fire she gets in her eyes is sexy as hell.