Throb (21 page)

“It’s not going to work.”
It’s totally working.

I deal quickly.

I win again. I would never have guessed I’d be happy to win paying off my own student loans.

“Miles wants to use our family home in Barbados to house the contestants the last two weeks. I’m going to let him. The contestants will stay in the guesthouse. I want you to be comfortable; there’s a room I want you to stay in there. Dickhead will stay at a hotel.”

“I’d love that.”

“There’s more.”

His face is apprehensive. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. One minute I’m riding high, packing my imaginary bags for a week in Barbados. The next minute, I’m perched at the top, my stomach hurling to a nervous drop as I wait for the free-fall that’s about to come.

“You took your brother out of therapy.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “A
light
background investigation, huh?”

“The investigator might have gotten carried away.”

Sure, the
investigator
got carried away
.
“The therapy is still considered experimental. The insurance doesn’t cover it.”

“I want to pay for the therapy.”

“I can’t let you do that. But it’s sweet of you to offer. Really.”

“Impasse.”

“This doesn’t even have to do with me or the show.”

“Does it cause you stress that he’s not going to therapy?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s related. Deal.”

Not even the best players can win every hand. I try in earnest, but lose.

“Good thing I won that one.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I paid the therapist over the phone before you got out of bed this morning.”

I’ve never understood why people slow and stare at a bad car accident. They know they’re going to witness something horrible, something the mind won’t be able to rewind and unsee. Yet the more gore, the bigger the traffic backup. I’ve always been the guy to curse the idiots in front of me riding their brake lights as they passed the mangled pile of steel. I refuse to let unbridled curiosity get the best of me, never allowing my head to turn despite the powerful pull of the wreckage.

Yet here I am, sitting in my car, staring at the front door, knowing there’s an accident waiting to happen right on the other side. But there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to stop myself from going in. She made me promise not to watch the taped show tomorrow. Technically I’m not breaking the promise—I never said I wouldn’t come to watch the live filming tonight. Each morning I have to restrain myself from hurling the laptop across the room. I can’t imagine it won’t be a million times harder to stop myself from walking through the door and knocking Dickhead on his ass. A string of curses litters the air as I stomp from my car to the house.

“Coop! I didn’t know you were coming.” Miles actually looks happy to see me. Unfortunately, the sentiment isn’t returned, although my scowl actually has nothing to do with my little brother for a change.

“Miles.” I nod.

“You came at a good time. The ladies are sufficiently loose. We plied them with liquor, now it’s time to unleash the bachelor and watch the horns start to rise from their pretty little heads.” He rubs his hands together like a child unable to contain his excitement. “I’m going to go check in on Flynn. Have a drink—we just brought out one of the two rolling bars from the shoot.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Your favorite scotch is in there, although it’s half gone. You and Flynn have similar tastes.”

I stroll straight to the bar, ignoring the cameraman who starts speaking to me, and pull out the Macallan single malt. The bottle is less than half full.
Dickhead.
Gulping back two fingers worth, I slam the tumbler down.

“Bad day?” Joel Blick, the director, reaches over the bar and grabs a glass. He pours himself a double and tips the bottle to me asking if I want a refill. I slide my glass in his direction.

“You could say that.” I nod my glass to him before drinking.

“Well, maybe a little girl-on-girl catfight will cheer you up. There’s a storm brewing amongst the contestants tonight.”

“What’s it about?”

“The bachelor.” He finishes his drink. “What else?”

“Which girls?”

“All the camera’s favorites. Jessica, Mercedes and Kate. They were going at it pretty good. Got heated. But now, after the alcohol and bringing Flynn into the game … I wouldn’t be surprised if the early rumbling leads to a big explosion.”

“You have the argument in the can?”

“I do.” I stare at him and wait. “You want a replay?”

Who can resist watching a car accident waiting to happen?

“You think you’re better than everyone here?” Jessica seethes, her normally pretty face contorted.

“I don’t even know you. You’ve had something against me since the first night and I have no idea why,” Kate replies in a dismissive tone. It only serves to anger Jessica more that she doesn’t get a sufficient rile out of her.

“You walk around thinking Flynn is wrapped around your little pinky finger.”

I know it’s irrational. But just hearing Kate in an argument that has anything to do with Dickhead brings my already heated blood to a boil.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” Kate says, then pivots to walk away.

But Jessica grabs her shoulder. “I know the game you’re playing,” she warns.

Kate turns and glares at her. For a long moment, the two stare off—neither of them backing down. Then a familiar look on Kate’s face appears, and she calls her opponent’s bluff. “We’re all playing a game, aren’t we?” She dusts Jessica’s hand off her shoulder and walks away.

The camera fades out. “What was that all about?” I ask.

“Got me. But something’s up and Miles is busy trying to stoke the fire.”

The live feed monitor captures everything happening on the other side of the wall, even though they’re not filming at the moment. Kate looks beautiful in a curve-hugging dark blue cocktail dress. The expansive living room is filled with women who are unquestionably knockouts. Yet Kate stands out, even though her assets aren’t on full display. The crew is setting up lighting and she laughs and smiles with them. A short young intern is struggling to set up a high camera boom and Kate, in her five-inch heels, walks over and helps her. They spend five minutes talking afterward. The other women don’t even notice the crew, they’re too busy waiting for someone more important to walk in the room.

For a few minutes, I stand and watch her, the mounting stress that had been building all day slowly beginning to ebb.

The green live-filming light flashes, then
he
walks in the room.

Dickhead.

He makes a beeline for Kate, not even seeing the other women who are right in front of him.
Tunnel vision. He wants her bad.
Where have I seen the look on his face before? Oh, yeah.
In the mirror.

He kisses her on the cheek. There’s a cocky smile on his face as his eyes roam all over her body.
My fucking body.
I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that I can’t rewind. I’m desperate to know what he just whispered to her, but if I knew, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep myself from marching in and punching him square in the face.

Eventually Jessica pulls him away, a phony plastic smile shining at Kate as she hooks her arm into Flynn and leads him outside onto the deck.

“Do you like my dress?” Jessica asks coyly, looking down. Her eyes lead his to follow hers down to the tits overflowing from her scarlet red gown.

Any thought of Kate seems to disappear quickly as Dickhead licks his lips and leans in to whisper something in her ear. Jessica takes his hands and wraps them around her waist, pushing what he’s salivating over against his chest. Kate should see this. Know just how loyal Dickhead is to her.

“Make Kate walk out on the balcony while those two are locked together,” I bark at Joel.

He ponders my suggestion for a second. “That’s not a bad idea. Might finally get the claws to come out on Kate.” Joel picks up his walkie-talkie and orders a stagehand to direct Kate to walk outside.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Arms wrapped around each other, Dickhead’s head is buried at Jessica’s ear, when Kate steps out onto the balcony. She stops, catching sight of them locked in an intimate embrace. Dickhead’s back is to her, but Jessica tags Kate the minute she walks out. And it only fuels her performance. The hands around his neck jump to his head and she ravels her fingers in his hair in what comes off as a familiar sexual touch.

The camera pans in close, catching Jessica smile at Kate smugly before planting her lips on Flynn’s neck. Kate bows her head and walks away gracefully. She doesn’t see Flynn pull out of Jessica’s claws and rebuff her attempt at a kiss a minute later.

“Great eye. Maybe you’ll find a career in reality TV with your brother after all,” Joel says as I stand, ready for a refill.

“Don’t count on it.”

“You never asked me if I made it to the final four last night,” I say as Cooper presses his lips to the curve of my neck. He’d ravaged me the minute I walked in the door at midnight. Barely uttering more than four words before my back was pushed up against the wall, there was urgency to his need. I knew my being anywhere in the vicinity of Flynn was hard for him, so I didn’t question what prompted his appetite. Instead I yielded immediately, letting him feed off how quickly I’d come to submit to him.

“I didn’t have to ask.” Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he tugs, giving him better access to lick and nip his way up to my ear.

“Why is that?”

Cooper stops abruptly and draws his head back. His light green eyes are the same darkened green they were last night—there’s a wildness to them that is more than arousal. “I told you, I see the way he looks at you. Now can we not talk about
him
in my bed.”

I hadn’t thought about it that way. Bringing up another woman as I kissed him would most definitely have upset me. “Sorry.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine for a kiss. He obliges, kissing me with the same fierceness that I’d felt between us last night. An urgency that makes me feel like he needs to be reminded that I’m only his.

Our kiss breaks and I slip out from underneath him. “Where are you going?” he growls.

I lift to my feet and stand on the plush area rug next to the bed, waiting until our gaze locks. Then I sink to my knees.

“Christ, Kate,” he exhales deeply. “I won’t last. You have no idea what seeing that does to me.” He rakes his hands through his hair as he comes to stand before me.

With painstaking slowness and deliberation to his movement, he winds the full length of my hair tightly around his hand until his fist is against my scalp. “Look up at me while you take it.”

My lips slide over his thick crown and I suck gently, fluttering my tongue in a circle. I wrap my hand around the thick base of him and slide up and down the full length a few times as I increase the suction.

“More,” he groans. “Take more of it.” The strain in his voice heightens my own arousal and my body swells in response. Jesus. I might be able to come without him even touching me.

I swallow more of him, falling short of taking him in fully, but enough so that the tip of him hits my throat. I flatten my tongue and run it along the underside, tracing his pulse on the thick vein that throbs as he grows even more hard and swollen.

“All of it. Take my cock down your throat,” he rasps, our gaze intense and locked. My eyes flutter closed as I open my throat as wide as I can and swallow the length of him down. My jaw strains wide and my breathing shallows as I struggle to catch my breath through my nose.

“Ah. Kate.” He swallows and makes a sound that borders on pain. “You on your knees … my cock down your throat …” his voice trails off.

Fueled by the effect I have on him, I can’t get enough. I feel greedy, my head furiously bobbing up and down as I suck hard, until I feel the change in him.

“Fuck … your mouth.” His hands fisting my hair still my head and then Cooper takes over. Ferociously thrusting into my mouth. Pumping hard and deep, each time hitting the back of my throat as I struggle to keep up with his primal need.