Summer with a Star (Second Chances Book 1) (13 page)

“Hello, Yvonne,” she told her reflection. “I’m Tasha Pike.” She twisted to check out her backside in the mirror. “I’m no ordinary actress, I’m a
film star
.” She blew a kiss, like Marilyn Monroe.

You look like a fool
, a voice whispered in the back of her head.

But no, no, she couldn’t. This was what movie star girlfriends looked like. This was the sort of woman who looked good on a red carpet. Heck, even Jenny had told her so in her note. “
Remember, you’re not Miss Pike there
.” She certainly wasn’t.

She turned to look at herself squarely in the mirror, planting her hands on her hips. This was a vacation, all right. A vacation from herself.

“I can do this,” she said. “I can make this work.”

She made another supposedly sexy face in the mirror. It was only summer. She didn’t have to be herself. No one was around who would hold her accountable. And this fling with Spence couldn’t last.

She froze, her vixen face dropping. It couldn’t last. No matter how much a little part of her might want it to. Girls like her didn’t end up with movie stars. Loserdom was a curse she couldn’t get away from, no matter how many years she saved up for it. Her heart sank.

She cleared her throat and turned away from the mirror, pushing that thought aside by wishing she had a pair of really high heels. She didn’t have anything like that, though. Not even back home.

It didn’t matter. She squared her shoulders and walked across the room on her tip-toes, as if she was wearing the most stylish heels known to man. She took a breath before throwing open the door. This was what movie stars wanted. This was what her best friend thought she should be. She was going to nail it.

The homey scent of coffee and fresh waffles wafting up the stairs did not help her buy into the role of siren. She slowed as she made her way down the stairs, her stomach grumbling under the tight leather. No, bombshells didn’t get hungry. The kind of woman that Yvonne wanted Spence to date probably didn’t eat at all. She probably only drank protein shakes and popped vitamins. She reached the bottom of the stairs and stood taller, threw her head back. She could do this. For Spence. For her.

Mustering up her last ounce of courage, she spun into the doorway, stretching her back against the frame, raising one arm above her head. Gloves, she needed elbow-length leather gloves. Oh well.

“Good morning, sailor,” she said in her lowest, huskiest voice. Where the hell did that come from.

Spence turned from the counter where he was making waffles. “Goo—” He stopped dead, mouth hanging open, eyes popping. The spatula clattered out of his hand onto the counter.

Tasha smiled—quickly shifting from the dorky grin that came naturally to a smoky, suggestive moue. That was exactly the reaction she’d been going for. She could do this. She could be the right kind of girlfriend. Spence’s mouth continued to drop as he scanned her from head to toe. Vivid, unapologetic lust painted his face, making her feel almost as sexy as the stupid corset warranted. A bulge was already starting to form in his baggy pajama shorts. Excellent.

“Jenny sent me a little present,” she said, rubbing her back against the wall as though it was a stripper pole. She pushed away and started across the room to him.

“Jenny?” he croaked the word, then cleared his throat. “Is that what kind of taste she has?”

What kind of taste Jenny had? No, it was who she, Miss Tasha Pike, needed to be.

“Like it?” she flirted, swaying across the room until she was close enough for him to grab.

His eyes stayed exactly where they should—on the girls. Every breath she took pushed her breasts closer to the brink of spilling out the top of the corset. In actuality, it pinched, and she could hardly move or breathe. It was hot, too, but not the good kind. Her skin couldn’t breathe. Then again, she didn’t suppose you were supposed to stay dressed in one of these things for long.

“Um.” Spence finally got around to answering her question, as soon as his eyes were back in his head. “Like it?”

He reached out to rest both hands at her sides, stroking his way up the leather toward her breasts over the studs. It would have been great, except the sensation was dulled by the leather. She pretended that she loved it anyhow and made a cooing, porn-star sound in the back of her throat.

Spence’s lips twitched to a grin. Not the kind of grin that said he wanted to bang her on the kitchen counter. “Interesting.” He tugged her close, running his hands over her back and down to her backside. Now that she could feel. He cupped her ass and pulled her hips into his erection.

It would have been perfect, everything she was going for, except that he started chuckling. He kissed her, wet and open-mouthed, but she could feel the vibrations of his laughter blossoming out from his chest. Laughter directed straight at her, the one making a fool of herself.

She pushed back, breaking away from him and backpedaling until she reached the sink. Her expression had dropped from the siren she was going for to something that made Spence’s face pinch in question, so she overdid it to get her image back.

“Isn’t this everything a hot star like you has always wanted?” she asked. She did her best impersonation of a sexy model pose, sticking one leg out and bending back over the sink. Her balance wasn’t great, though, and she ended up looking like a spastic duck.

“You’re what I’ve always wanted,” he told her, laughter and tenderness in his voice.

Dammit, no, that was not what she wanted to hear…even though it was. He took a step closer to her, the animal lust leaving his expression, only to be replaced by something warm, yet pitying. She struck another sexy pose.

“Forget that boring teacher,” she said. “For the rest of the summer, I’m Tash. Just Tash. And I’m all yours.”

She met him as he reached her, stretching her arms up his chest and lifting a knee to his hip when he caught her around the waist. She grabbed handfuls of his hair and yanked him down for a kiss.

It would have been perfect and hot and bold, except for Spence’s tight laughter.

“What?” she demanded, pulling back. He wouldn’t let her peel all the way away from him this time, and he grabbed her leg to keep it where it was at his hip. “Isn’t this the sort of thing you like?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “If you like it.”

“Isn’t this the sort of thing Yvonne would like?”

His smile crumbled. “Only if you were an A-lister,” he answered with more than a tinge of bitterness.

That was it, then. She could dress up all she wanted, but underneath the leather and studs, she would never be Marissa Starr, or any other kind of star.

She tried to pull away. Spence wouldn’t let her go. His arm around her waist held her close and his hand gripped her thigh as though he meant business.

“You do look amazing in that,
Tasha
,” he said, emphasizing her full name. “And as soon as this batch of waffles is finished, I have half a mind to take you over to the sofa and see how amazing you look out of that.”

“You don’t have to,” she mumbled. “It’s got crotchless panties.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, his cock jumped against her. The rest of him wasn’t so enthusiastic.

“I don’t need you to dress or be like this to get me hot under the collar, you know. You do that plenty on your own.”

“Don’t you want to be with someone sexy and famous? Someone who can help your career?”

He frowned, his hold on her going uncomfortably tight. “That was Yvonne talking, not me.”

“But isn’t she right? Who am I to—”

“You’re the woman I like, the woman I want.”

“Yeah, but, isn’t every man’s dream to have the sexy siren? You’re at the top of the pecking order. Isn’t that what you want?”

The waffle-iron clicked. With an irritated sigh, Spence let her go so that he could tend to breakfast. Tasha stood where she was—rippling with anxiety and desperation—as he pried fresh waffles out of the iron and slapped them on a plate. He was mad now, and it was her fault. She’d screwed things up somehow. Part of her wanted to demand that he tell her what she’d done. The rest of her wanted to run back upstairs to hide.

As soon as the waffles were taken care of and the iron turned off, Spence twisted to face her.

“I know what this is about,” he said, his irritation switching to a serious smolder so fast that she wondered if he was acting.

“You do?” she asked, too close to a squeak.

“Yeah. This is about the roles we’re supposed to play, the expectations we’re supposed to have.” He reached for the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off over his head and throwing it on the floor.

Tasha’s mouth went dry. Damn, he was sexy. He flexed to show off the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, stalking closer to her like a god in heat.

“I’m supposed to be the oversexed, suave celebrity, aren’t I?” he said, pursuing as Tasha inched away. “I’m supposed to be the kind of guy who wants to fuck models in my trailer, right?”

She winced at his use of ‘fuck.’ It didn’t sound like him at all. He backed her all the way to the edge of the counter, then scooped her into his arms.

“Yeah?” she squeaked.

“And you’re supposed to be the nubile vixen just aching for it, aren’t you?”

She tried to form words, but with his arms crushing her against his bare chest and pressing her into the edge of the counter at the same time, all she could manage was a strangled, “Mmm hmm.”

“All right then,” he growled. “Let’s do it.”

“Do wh—”

Before she could blurt out the question, he brought his mouth crashing down over hers with bruising intensity. He devoured her like the waffles on the counter behind them. Her heart ricocheted around her chest and she wanted to scream, but not necessarily for the good reasons.

No, this was who she was supposed to be. She needed to get into the part.

“Oh Spence,” she cooed when he let her up for air.

He let out a breath that might have been a stifled laugh or might have been a hiss of complaint. “Give it to me, baby,” he demanded, nipping at her neck before claiming her mouth again. His tongue was probing before she could catch up.

He didn’t stop there. Grasping her around the waist, he hoisted her up to sit on the countertop, then pushed her legs apart. She gasped and her eyes flew wide as the motion put the crotchless panties to their intended use.

“Are you wet for me, baby?” he growled. His hands splayed along her thighs, inching toward her center.

Maybe a little? She glanced down to check.

Oh the way back up, she met Spence’s eyes. Underneath their over-the-top smolder, she caught a hint of frustration.

His hands were still busy, though. He inched his way to the hot folds between her legs and brushed against her opening. A jolt shot straight up Tasha’s spine, radiating honest heat through her for a second.

But only a second.

“Uh, babe?” she said, bristling with giddy discomfort as he delved into her privates with his thumb, “I’m on a kitchen counter. That’s awesome, but totally unsanitary.”

“Whatever you say, angel.”

He tugged her toward him, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, and carried her away from the counter, out of the kitchen, and to the dining room. As soon as she caught on to his plan to lay her across the table, she gasped, “Not the puzzle, not the puzzle!”

“Mmm,” he hummed, changing directions and carrying her into the living room. “I love it when you talk dirty to me like that.”

“Not the puzzle?” She blinked. No, she could do better. “I mean, damn, babe, the puzzle pieces aren’t hard enough. I want your nails in my back. I want you to do me hard.”

He reached the couch and spread her on her back. Their eyes met for a moment. She couldn’t read his expression at all. It was as if he’d gone completely blank or put on a mask. Yeah, he was still sexy as hell, but what had happened to Spence?

He lifted one of her legs to drape over the back of the sofa, pushing the other one over the edge of the cushion. It certainly left nothing to the imagination.

“How do you want it?” he asked, low and sultry.

“Um….”

He dipped down to nibble her ear. “Do you want it slow and hot, or do you want it fast and hard?”

“Well….” What would Marissa Starr want? What would any supermodel celebrity girlfriend want.

She wouldn’t want to mess her hair up, that was for sure.

The thought didn’t help her hold onto the mood. Neither did the smell of waffles coming from the kitchen.

“I want it fast and hard,” she decided. “And preferably messy.”

“You want it messy?” His voice was just weird now, with a false gravel that didn’t fit what she knew of him at all. “I can do messy.”

He licked her neck. Licked it with one long, wet stroke. The sensation made her blood run cold.

“Okay, eew, eew!”

She pushed him back and rolled off the sofa as best she could, her range of motion restricted by leather and studs. A chill ran down her back.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Spence stalked toward her, the itchy blankness still in his eyes. “Don’t you want me?”