Throb (19 page)

Five minutes ago he slipped out the door after the second knock came. I could tell he wanted to fling open the door and give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind. But he didn’t—he held back and let me answer. I told the assistant sent to beckon me for my turn at filming that I wasn’t feeling well, that I needed some time.

The minutes that followed after orgasm are a haze. Sated and in Cooper’s arms, nothing, it seemed, could go wrong. But with every moment that ticks by, the haze clears and the trouble brewing rings so loud in my ears, I can barely hear.

I do my best to fix myself, the disheveled exterior anyway. A few minutes later another knock comes. “Kate, it’s Flynn.”

Shit.

“Are you okay?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“Yes. I just don’t feel that great.”

“Can I come in?”

I want to say no. I don’t want to see anyone right now. “I just need another minute.”
Or year. Year would be better.

“I’ll wait.”

Two minutes later I take a deep breath and open the door. Flynn steps in and closes the door behind him. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”

“Yeah. Just not feeling so hot, I guess.”

The look on his face is concern. He reaches out and feels my forehead. “You’re not warm.” I look down—I can’t possibly look into his eyes. I was just in the arms of another man and this sweet guy is concerned that my freshly fucked flush might be a fever. I’m a horrible human being.

“Come here.” He pulls me to him. I want to run away, not let him touch me, but instead I freeze in place, unsure of how to react. He wraps his arms around me. “I think you’re just nervous about the shoot. The camera really makes you anxious, doesn’t it?” One of his hands moves to my shoulder. “You’re a ball of stress. Let me work my magic fingers on you for a few minutes to help it disappear.”

Nervous, I walk to the set next to Flynn, thankful he doesn’t try to hold my hand. There’s no sign of Cooper anywhere, but I know he’s here somewhere. He’s giving me space because I need it to get through this shoot, but Cooper Montgomery is
not
the type of man to stay in the shadows for very long.

The camera crew quickly arranges Flynn and me where they need us to stand. “Facing each other,” one of the production assistants says, “Kate’s palms flat on your upper chest. Talk for a minute or two. We’ll yell ‘ready’ when it’s time for Flynn to lean in for a kiss.”

Even when I’m situated in my assigned position, palms flat on chest, I avoid Flynn’s eyes. I can’t bear to look at him; surely he’ll see what a complete fraud I am.

“Kate,” Flynn says gently.

I still don’t look up at him.

“Kate,” he repeats. When I still don’t look up his hand gently cups my chin, lifting my face so my eyes meet his gaze. “You look gorgeous. Nervous and flushed is a good look for you.” He flashes a boyish smile and speaks quietly. He’s trying to put me at ease.

“Thank you.” God, I’m an utterly disgusting person. I’m not even sure what I feel guiltier about at the moment—my hands touching another man not twenty minutes after Cooper was inside of me, or the disrespect I’m showing Flynn.

“Ready!” The director yells, queuing us for a kiss.

Flynn and I stare at each other, I’m lost somewhere in outer space, and he tries diligently to find me. His eyes fall to my lips and then back to meet mine. I must look like a deer in the headlights, because he shows mercy, swerving to avoid a near disaster. Leaning down, he avoids my quivering mouth, instead pressing his lip to my temple. “I’ll deal with them. I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he whispers as a tear falls from my eye.

Flynn and Miles have a nearby heated exchange. And then Flynn returns, his victorious smile fading when he sees me.

“My kisses really aren’t that bad. I promise. I might have even heard a rumor that I was good at it.” He laces our fingers together and lifts my hand to kiss the top.

“I’m sorry. I feel terrible. It’s not you.” They might be the first truthful words I’ve said to this man today. It really isn’t him.

“Think you can handle a dance with me?”

The confusion on my face is evident.

“They’re going to shoot us slow-dancing. It’s what I worked out instead of a steamy kiss.”

My chest tightens. I’m not really even up to a dance, but how can I tell him that without making him think he doesn’t repulse me?

“Thank you. That would be great.”

“Don’t thank me. I might have been a little selfish suggesting it. I may not be getting a kiss, but I’m still getting your body pressed close to mine.”

Cooper’s classic Porsche is parked out front of my building when I finally return home. I pretty much expected him to appear at every turn today, but he didn’t. The anticipation of when he might appear only made the day that much more unbearable.

I pull into the spot next to him. He’s outside, leaning against his car, when I park.

“I wasn’t sure where you went,” I say.

“I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

“When did you leave?”

“About two seconds after the director yelled ‘Ready.’” He tugs his fingers harshly through his locks. It looks like he’s done quite a bit of that since earlier today, his mussed hair having bore the brunt of his stress. Yet I still can’t help noticing how sexy it makes him look.

“I couldn’t watch another man put his lips on you.” Cooper maintains the safe distance between us as he speaks.

“He didn’t,” I say softly.

“He didn’t what?” His hopeful gaze blazes into me.

“Kiss me.”

He steps closer, narrowing the gap between us until my back is up against my car. Positioning one hand on either side of my head against my Jeep, his eyes search mine. “Are you just telling me that because it’s what I want to hear?”

I shake my head. His eyes close with relief.

“Come home with me.” His voice is gentle, raw.

I thought not physically being around Cooper would free me to jump back into the game. Rekindle a spark that I’d once felt with Flynn. But that spark has been extinguished. And physically keeping away from Cooper doesn’t work because, unlike whatever I felt with Flynn, things with Cooper are more than physical. I nod and let him lead me to his car without bothering to get any of my things.

Cooper finally breaks the silence as we make our way onto the highway. “I’m glad he’s a fool.”

“He’s not a fool.”

“Don’t defend him.” His eyes flash to me. “Give me that much at least.”

“Okay. But he was just trying to be respectful.”

“Respect or not, given the chance to kiss you, I’m taking it every damn time.”

Inside his apartment, Cooper opens a wine fridge and lifts a bottle of wine, offering it to me for approval. “When do you have to be back?”

I nod. “Tomorrow night. We have a selection ceremony and then a week off. That’s if I make it to the final four.”

“I need you to stay tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He hands me a crystal glass and pushes the hair from my face.

I nod. “I want you to hold me. I know you had to leave today, but I felt it when you were gone.”

He responds by wrapping me tightly in his arms and buries his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply. We stay that way until what amounts to a sigh rolls through my body.

“I need to wash off all this makeup they put on me.”

“Why don’t you go take a shower?”

“Okay.”

“I could also use a shower,” he says, running his hand down my arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Although we’re only going to need another one after we get all sweaty.”

He leads me into a bathroom I didn’t see last time I was here and pushes a few buttons on a nearby panel. It’s a walk in shower bigger than my first apartment. Built for more than one, water shoots out of jets from three sides, the top an indulgent oversized rain shower.

“Fancy shower.”

“Hmmm.” He slips off my shirt, his focus shifting from conversation to undressing me.

“Looks like it’s made for more than one.” The hand reaching for my pant zipper freezes and he glances up at me.

“Never took a shower with anyone in here.” I catch that he says
in here
and it makes my mind start to wonder if that’s why he’s brought me into this bathroom. It shouldn’t matter; I’m no virgin either.

“Or in the other shower,” he says directly into my eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, but you were thinking it.”

I ignore his comment, although I reach for the buttons on his shirt a little happier. “So now you know what I’m thinking?”

“This time. Yes.” He draws down my pants and kneels down, tapping my calf for me to step out. “It would make my day a lot more productive if I knew what you were thinking more often.”

“Are you blaming me for your unproductiveness?”

He unfastens the back of my bra with one hand. The extent of his dexterity removing lingerie doesn’t go unnoticed. “Yes. I’m blaming you for my unproductiveness.” The finger stroking the side of my breast pauses. “I’ve been near idle since I met you.” He looks up at me.

In the moment, I fall a little bit harder for him. The domineering, sexy, authoritative man, who takes command of a room just by walking into it, just admitted I was his kryptonite. I’m barely able to stop myself from launching at him. Instead, I kiss him fiercely. Hard and long, until I’m so lost in his arms that I don’t even realize he’s carried me into the shower.

I love the way we kiss, as if we’ve been starved for each other for weeks, when it was only a matter of hours since he was buried inside of me. We grope and pull, scratch and claw. He bites my lip so hard when I go to pull away for air that it hurts. But it’s a pain that shoots down to the sensitive flesh between my legs, inciting a fire deep inside of me. My hands go to his hair, pulling, wrenching, clenching—needing him closer. I can’t get enough.

One of his hands drops to my ass and he grabs a handful, squeezing hard before he lifts and guides my legs to wrap around his waist. My back hits the cold tile wall, his hand behind my head protecting me from the full extent of the harshness of our actions.

My entire body aches for him. In a way I’ve never experienced. A savage need rumbles in the pit of my stomach that leaves me desperate to feed it. I moan, feeling the full length of his hardness pushed up firmly against my belly. “I want you,” I breathe out against our pressed lips.

“Patience,” he mumbles back.

I arch my back and use the wall to leverage myself, forcing my body lower in an attempt to bring what I want closer. I
need
him inside of me. He pulls his head back, amused, his mouth curving to a wicked grin. “That will only make it longer until I give you what you want.” He drops his head and sucks my nipple in.

Somewhere between agonizing torture and blissful euphoria he finally concedes. My head falls back, thudding against the tile, and I whimper as he pushes into me. He drives deep, filling me completely, and then stills, claiming my eyes under the same control that he possesses my body before he begins to move. Satisfied with our gaze locked, he sets an unrelenting pace, pulling almost all the way out each time before slamming back into the hollows of my body. The intensity of each stroke is heightened by the emotions I see in his eyes as he watches me, focused keenly on satisfying my needs before his own.