Starstruck: Hollywood Heat, Book 3 (13 page)

Maybe she should say yes.

“While I realize you’ve been enjoying your view…” he wiggled his eyebrows as he sidled up next to her at the stove and set the full milk glasses next to the plate, “…I had another one in mind we both can enjoy.”

She reached a hand behind him and let her fingers do the viewing. “As long as your butt’s coming too, I can enjoy both.”

He slipped a hand beneath her skirt and palmed her ass—her bare ass, shoot, where had her panties ended up?—and gave it a light squeeze. His wandering fingers promised lots more where that came from, but he didn’t say a word. Or kiss her. Or do anything but wink, shove a cookie in his mouth, pick up the glasses and walk away.

“Tease,” she huffed, grabbing the plate of cookies and following him.

He bypassed a small breakfast nook and moved into a formal dining room, or at least what she imagined would be a formal dining room at some point. A heavy tarp protected what appeared to be a table and chairs. Dark wood paneling covered the bottom half of the wall, with the upper part painted pale amber in a nice contrast.

“Sorry about the mess,” Micah said. “I finished varnishing the wood this morning. Up next is refinishing the floor. This is going to be one of the nicest rooms in the house when I get through with it.”

“You did this all yourself? Micah, it’s gorgeous.”

“It will be. I still have to rehang this balcony door. It’s stuck closed.” He nodded to a French door near the corner. “And I need to repaint the ceiling.” He gestured with one of the glasses of milk toward a water stain in the far corner. “This was one of the original Hollywoodland houses, built in 1928. It was a bit of a rundown mess when I bought it a few years ago from a little old lady whose first husband was some movie-studio bigwig in the thirties and forties. C’mere, you gotta see the living room.”

He walked through the doorway into a room that took Jenna’s breath away. A majestic high ceiling coupled with an entire wall of glass—multi-light windows interspersed with French doors that allowed access to the view it offered—made the grand room feel even grander. An incredible carved black marble statuary fireplace was the centerpiece on the opposing wall. Antique furniture masked a high-end entertainment system, and art deco sconces placed around the room gave it an old-time, movie-theater-lobby feel. A large rug with a huge deco starburst added a cool turquoise and blue to the room, with small splashes of red and orange to give it zest.

“This room… It’s like stepping back in time to the glamour days. Cary Grant and Clark Gable should be sharing a drink next to the fireplace, with Lana Turner holding court outside.”

“They easily could have been guests of Mr. Bigwig back then, but I haven’t held any grand parties yet. When I finish with the house, you can help me throw one.”

Plate of cookies in hand, Jenna slowly spun in a circle, taking in the entire room and all the work that went into it. “Micah, this is amazing. Truly. I’ve never seen anything like it—outside of photos in old magazines, that is.”

“You haven’t even seen the view yet.” He stole another cookie, another kiss and another piece of her heart. “You’ll never want to leave.”

She already didn’t, but that was due to the man in front of her, not his undoubtedly gorgeous house.

Micah strode over to the French doors and opened them, letting in the cool night breeze. “1928. No air conditioning. I just open the windows and doors and listen to the wind through the trees.”

Jenna stepped out onto the balcony, her bare feet chilled against the stonework. Micah set the two glasses of milk on a small metal table next to a large plush lounge chair, which was big enough for two to recline—or intertwine—together comfortably. He took the plate of cookies from her and put them next to the milk, then tugged her hand and led her to the railing. “This is my favorite place. I come out here every night, to breathe, relax, unwind. When the weather’s nice, I sometimes sleep out here. The stars overhead and Hollywood down below. And over here…” He led her to the far corner of the balcony. Standing behind her, one arm around her waist, Micah pointed with his free hand. “Look over there. When the wind blows just right you can see through the trees…”

“Is that…?” Her breath caught on an inhale. “That’s the Hollywood sign. Wow, I didn’t realize it was so close.”

He lifted his head, gesturing off in the distance. “And then over there, the L.A. skyline.”

“It’s so beautiful from up here, all lit up. Looks majestic.”

“That’s Hollywood for you. Everything can be beautiful with the right lighting or seen from the right angle.”

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, taking in the view.

“I can see why you love it out here,” she whispered, almost afraid to break the spell the night wove around them. “The broad star-filled sky above, covering us like a deep, rich blanket, and the lights of Los Angeles sparkling in the distance. It’s peaceful being able to step away from the world, yet still see it stretched out in front of you. It kind of centers you, makes you realize you’re a part of something so much bigger than yourself.” She shook her head, feeling silly at her poetic outburst. “Okay, enough philosophical ramblings from me. Time to shove a cookie in my mouth to keep me quiet.”

“I don’t want you to be quiet. Don’t stop talking. Don’t stop sharing your world with me.” He nuzzled his cheek against her hair, which had long since fallen out of the haphazard knot she’d tied it in when she baked the cookies. “I’ve spent too long not trusting my eyes because of the Hollywood distortion factor. But now…” he dipped his head and kissed her neck, “…I don’t know if you opened my eyes, or if I’m seeing with my heart instead. All I know is my view’s gotten a lot better, and I want to soak it all in.”

She closed her eyes. Not because she didn’t want to see the amazing view, but because she wanted to
feel
it. The cold stone under her feet, the slight roughness of the stucco railing beneath her arms, the wind caressing her face, Micah against her back, his strong arms around her waist, his love surrounding her, his lips leaving warm imprints on her shoulder.

His arms slipped from her waist, his hands lifting to where the straps of her dress were tied. Sure, dexterous fingers made quick work of the knot until the fabric ties were free, and he layered soft kisses where the material had dug into her flesh.

With the ties undone, the front of her dress gave way, and her hands came up automatically to shield her breasts. “Micah…? Can anyone see us up here?”

“No. I won’t let anyone else see you like this.” His arms came around her again, hands replacing hers on her breasts, thumbs stroking her nipples, which had pebbled in the cool breeze.

She shivered from the combined onslaught of his sensual caresses and the nighttime air on her bare flesh.

“Cold?” he asked, fingers moving in slow circles, tightening just the slightest bit around her areolas.

“Mmm…a little. I like the way you touch me though. Don’t want you to stop.”

“We have all night. I don’t plan on stopping.”

All of Los Angeles stretched before her, millions of people represented by the lights on the horizon, and the only one who mattered stood behind her, touching her, making her yearn, making her feel like the most important person in that sea of lights and people.

“I need to see you.” Jenna turned around, the city at her back, Micah becoming her entire world.

By the look in his eyes, she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. He’d stepped back, just out of arm’s reach, taking her in.

His breath whistled out on a long exhale. “You’re so damn beautiful, Jenna.”

Her dress had gathered at her waist, and it was easy enough to slip her thumbs into the fabric and wiggle it down her body to pool at her feet. A simple action which created a response that was anything but.

Micah’s stare touched her like a physical caress, stroking over her from head to toe, so strong her pussy reacted in kind, clenching around the fingers and cock she wished were inside her now.

“I need to touch you,” he said, voice harsh and raw.

“I need you to touch me.”

They came together in a crush of flesh to fabric, Micah’s hands in her hair, holding her face upraised for his bruising kiss. She pushed harder against his lips, wanting to feel him there even when he wasn’t, wanting the ache of memory to play there after tonight ended.

She fumbled with his belt, button, zipper, and soon his pants and briefs joined her dress on the concrete. They managed to stop kissing long enough to tug his shirt over his head, their mouths and bodies reuniting once all their clothing had been removed.

Jenna sighed when all his hot, hot flesh was finally pressed to hers, his cock hard and ready against her stomach. There was something to be said for nudity as a lifestyle. It wasn’t something she’d ever considered embracing until Micah, but anything that kept him and her seamed together naked like this could only be good.

They moved together across the balcony until the lounge chair nudged the back of her legs. She pulled from his lips to shift backward onto the plush padding. He followed her, muscular arms flexing as he crawled up the chair to hold himself over her.

Even in the dark she could lose herself in his eyes, the way he looked at her, all his emotion and desire and heat consuming her.

“Jenna, I want you now. No, I
need
you now.”

“I’m yours.”

His fingers traced over her temple, down her cheek, but he never broke their stare, gazes locked the way their bodies wanted to be. He was inside her soul before he was inside her pussy, pushing into her slowly, finding where they both needed him to be.

The sweetest contentment, that moment of being stretched and filled and
completed
, so much sweeter with eyes wide open watching Micah, seeing that same pleasure and recognition wash over his face like silver moonlight.

Seeing that pleasure shift to worry and regret. “Shit.” He shook his head. “I fucking did it again.”

She knew what
it
was before he had to define it. “No condom,” she whispered, eyes falling closed for half a heartbeat. A part of her fiercely wished he hadn’t noticed, that he wasn’t already pulling out.

“I’m an asshole.”

“No.” It came out harsher than she meant it, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand clamping onto his forearm, keeping him from leaving her completely.

Micah’s gaze shot back to hers, eyes full of questions she was going to answer, whether or not it damned her.

“I’m on the pill, and I don’t mess around. I never have. Never wanted to. Not until…” She took a shaky breath. “Earlier tonight, in my kitchen, I didn’t want you to stop. I don’t want you to stop now. And I know that makes me sound like ten thousand times the fool—”

“Shh…” Kissing her, he pushed back inside her in a stroke that had her arching and gasping into his mouth. “Fuuuck, you feel so good, Jenna.” He backed away, thrust again. “I don’t fuck without condoms. I’ve never been with someone I trust enough. Never made love…” It was his turn for a shaky, ragged breath. “I can get a condom and be back here in less than a minute. Say the word and I—”

“Stay.”

He shuddered, his cock jerking inside her. He groaned out a rough laugh. “I’m not going to last much longer like this.”

“Neither will I.” She thrust up to meet his advance, bare flesh sliding so tight and good together. “But we have all night, remember?”

“Not near enough time to love you,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Guess I’ll have to stay tomorrow…and the next day…”

His mouth swallowed the rest of her reply, the unspoken promise of their devotion implicit in their need for each other.

Chapter Eleven

Micah’s alarm sounded, a loud, blaring ring that wouldn’t stop, ripping him from the contented sleep of the sexually sated. It was Sunday. He didn’t have to be on set until tomorrow morning. So why was his alarm going off?

Pissed at the interruption, he dragged himself away from Jenna’s sweet, naked, beautiful, stirring and sleep-murmuring body, and fumbled for the side table to beat the noise into submission. The cookie-crumb-covered plate fell to the floor with a crash—
shit
—when he smacked at the alarm, but the fucker kept ringing. What the hell?

Dammit. Not his alarm. His phone. His house phone.

Who would call on the house line? Few people had that number, and it was for emergencies only.

Micah picked up the phone, wary now. “Yeah?”

“Who the hell is this Jenna Byers chick?” Jack, his agent, blunt as always. Except Micah couldn’t understand the question. Not the words, but the why behind it. Clearly this was about last night, but why was Jack going down this path? And how did he know Jenna’s name?

Micah scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes, wishing he could do the same with his brain. Awake one minute and things were already going wrong. He looked at Jenna, who was rumpled and adorable and smiling up at him through sleep-mussed hair. If only they’d stayed on the balcony last night. He wouldn’t have heard the phone, wouldn’t be talking to his pissed-off, control freak of an agent on a rampage, because Jack sure as shit wasn’t asking about Jenna in a
when do I get to meet her
way.

But Micah couldn’t hide from the world—or his agent—forever.

Jack barreled on, apparently tired of waiting for Micah to get a clue. “Shall I refresh your memory? That chick you were out with last night. The one you punched a paparazzo over. The one who’s playing havoc with your career. Did you forget you might be out of a job next week? Do you really think the studio won’t use this as an excuse to get rid of you? They don’t even need one, yet you’re giving them the excuse of the century wrapped up in a little red dress. Good press keeps you employed, Micah. Loose women in red dresses don’t give good press.”

Anger had Micah vaulting out of the bed, leaving Jenna behind. She didn’t need to hear this. He crossed into the next room and closed the door, the sleep wiped from his brain and outrage taking over. “Jack, one more word about her, this call is over, and you’ll be my
former
agent.”