Entangled (A Tryst Novel) (8 page)

“I know what you’re doing, Skyler.”

He enunciates my name more crisply, and that’s how I know he’s getting angry . . . and I like it.

Still trapped in his presence I clamp down on my bottom lip. “What is it that I’m doing? Gio is nice—really nice, actually. Maybe he can keep me company when you’re away in New York?”

Blake pushes his hips into mine, pinning me to the door. A mixture between a gasp and a groan slips from my lips. His hand curves over my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Abso-
fucking
-lutely not.”

“It was your idea I go with you to your photo shoot!” I bark.

He grinds his teeth. “I was stupid to do it. Gio means well, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But you’re mine!” Before I can get in another word he crashes his lips into mine. The capture is hard and possessive, and I can’t restrain the moan that wills its way through my lips.

His tongue dips into my mouth, tasting me, and it isn’t until he’s satisfied that he pulls away to say, “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Looks at me like what, Blake? You said it yourself that it’s his job.”

“Yeah, but he likes you.”

“And that makes you mad?”

“Yes, but I know it shouldn’t.”

I take advantage of Blake’s vulnerable state as I drag both my hands under his shirt, and up his torso, causing a slow exhale to release itself from him.

“Why not?” I ask as I pull the shirt over his head and toss it on the floor.

His hand goes back to my face, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes so he can get a better look at me.

“Because, honestly, I think it’s good for you. It’s about time you realize how beautiful you are. I hate”—he grinds his teeth once more,—“and love that Gio sees what I see, but I pray that it’s merely professional.”

My heart flutters, and I can’t be mad anymore. There’s just no way.

I realize that maybe under all of my ridiculous angst it isn’t my anger that needs catering to, but instead Blake’s secret insecurities.

As I look into Blake’s eyes, the harshness has softened into vulnerability.

“Who knew you were such a softie, Blake?” I allow my fingers to leisurely rake over the sinews of his toned chest, basking in the radiating heat and his rapidly beating heart beneath my fingertips.

He grunts as his eyes examine my features before landing on my lips.

“So much for angry sex,” he quips as his hand, cupping my face, pulls me toward him, and this time his lips make delicate contact with mine. He speaks each word in a staccato between each gentle kiss. “I. Love. You. And nothing will get in the way of that, not New York, not my job, not anything. Okay?”

I hum my understanding against his lips, letting my anger drift away as I reach for the button on his jeans, regaining my sense of self, and our sense of
 
us.

“Show me . . .” I whisper, and it’s his wry smile that I feel against my lips that confirms everything will, in fact, be okay.

He pulls me into the room, swiveling around in the direction of his bed. My heart rate has a hard time keeping a steady rhythm as each pulsing beat accelerates with every stumble, feeding off my body’s frantic need for him.

I push his pants over his hips and slide my hand inside his briefs, taking a firm grip of his cock, the hot, steely velvet heavy in my hands as he gets harder by the second. His lips against mine get interrupted by a growl he can’t seem to hold back.

“Fuck, Skye. You make patience impossible.”

I drag my tongue across his bottom lip. “Whatever do you mean?”

He pulls away just enough to drop his chin to watch my hand sliding up and down his shaft. “I want you touching me all the time, and once I get it, I’m in over my head. Sometimes I imagine licking and kissing every inch of your smoking-hot body, and I tell myself that that’s what I’m going to do the next time I see you, but when I have you, I can’t seem to control myself. You turn me into an animal. I just want to fuck you into next week, okay?”

“So romantic,” I chide, shooting him a smirk before leaning in to place slow, determined kisses on his chest, up his neck and onto his jaw until I reach his ear, “Then what are you waiting for?”

I hear him suck in a breath. His hands find their way to my hips, curving over the skin above my jeans. His hands are like sinfully hot irons against my skin. With brash determination he grabs for my shirt, pulling it off my body.

He moves to peel my hands from him, pushing me until I fall back onto his bed.

I’m in awe staring up at him at my shirtless boy wonder, his hand reaching for his cock as he stares right back.

“Hard and fast?” he questions, but it’s definitely rhetorical, because I’ve never been one for soft and slow.

“How about dirty?” he adds.

I nod eagerly, licking my lips, my eyes fixated on his erection, getting turned on and soaking.

He steps up to the edge of the bed, pushing his hips out. “Then suck.”

I sit up on his bed, scooting to the edge, and open my mouth.

“So dirty. So good,” Blake says, taking that final step forward, putting the head of his cock at my lips.

Sticking my tongue out, I lick at the tip, looking up at him before wrapping my mouth around his girth.

I draw the full length of him into my mouth, drawing a hiss from Blake’s lips. It fuels me forward. I love hearing Blake on the edge of ecstasy because of me. It always starts in tiny restrained gasps, and in the tensing of his muscles, until it’s released in a breathless prayer of my name. It’s a reaction a girl could easily get addicted to. Capturing Blake has been only half of the battle that is the war that is this man. These mini victories along the way are sinfully gratifying, and above all, fascinating.

I lift my hands up to wrap around the base of his rock-hard length, moving them up and down in rhythm with my mouth. His hips flex forward as he slides into my mouth, nearly hitting the back of my throat.

I hum my satisfaction. His hips buck at the sensation, and I know I’m doing something right.

His fingers tangle in my hair as he guides my mouth to match the quickening rhythm of his hips.

I draw him in as far as I can, picking up speed as he drives into my mouth, my grip tightening with every lapping stroke of my mouth.

“Oh God, Skye. I’m gonna come, slow dow—”

I pump my mouth and hands faster, causing his words to get choked off by his oncoming orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck . . . fu-uck . . .” he groans, emptying himself into my mouth. The warm liquid slides down my throat as I hum my eager satisfaction. I drink him in, basking in his trembles as he pulls himself away so he can get a grip.

I lick at my lips, swallowing with a proud smirk.

“I like it when you let go. It’s my favorite,” I whisper.

The rapid rise and fall of his chest is so distracting on such a perfect specimen that I don’t get a chance to devour his look of admiration, especially when he’s kicking off his pants and briefs and tackling me back onto the bed.

“Blake!” I squeal. “I swear, your stamina is insane!”

I can feel the hardening of his cock against my inner thigh as he pins me to the bed.

“I’m just a starved man, Skye. What else am I supposed to do when I’m finally allowed a feast?” he says as his lips make their journey down my neck and over my breasts and his hands make quick work of the rest of my clothes.

“Well, thank fuck for that.”

His laughter hits the sensitive skin of my torso, the humid chuffs making my blood flow like lava in my veins, and it pools right between my thighs.

“It’s like you were made for me,” he replies.

I join in with his laughter. I surprise him by changing the stakes. I push his shoulders up and away from me so I can flip him onto his back. I kick off my pants before I climb over his hips, straddling them. His waiting cock underneath my sex is hard and ready for round two.

“What makes you think you weren’t the one made for me?” I retort, sinking my body over his, taking him inside me. I close my eyes, groaning his name, wanting tonight to go on forever, and tomorrow morning and that flight never to come.

“Skyler . . .” he pants before everything fades into bliss.

Blake

I swiftly make a mental note that my agent and best friend, Josh, has just hit an all-time-high approval rating as I find my first-class seat next to his. My previous agent had a tendency to “accidentally” book me into coach from time to time, and it made flights, especially international ones, absolutely brutal. I do see that although I’m flying first class, I don’t get the window seat. I raise a brow while I watch Josh get comfortable in the large recliner next to mine, and note his view.

“I guess I should thank you for the first class,” I say as I take my seat.

Josh opens one eye to look at me with a twist to his lips. “Who said I did this for you?” He lets out an exaggerated exhale as he makes himself more comfortable, which helps remind me that underneath it all, he’s still my closest friend.

I chuckle, finding the release cathartic. I’m a wound a bit tight this morning.

As if Josh can sense my inner turmoil, he speaks without opening his eyes or moving at all. “So, how’s she taking it?”

Well, he doesn’t waste any time.

I know what he’s referring to, but I don’t want to admit it. To make some sort of statement, Skyler chose not go to the airport with us. She said she found it silly to drag out a good-bye that we shared over and over again in the early hours of the morning. She also thought it was silly to make a big deal out of such a short trip, knowing that there were more to come. Either she’s finding her own way to deal with my new schedule, or she’s finding a really passive way to make me suffer.

Girls, sheesh.

I’ll be back by next weekend once this publicity circuit is done, and I’ll begin filming my first lead role in a major film.

That’s my life right now, and the realization has my head spinning.

“Earth to Blake: How’s my sister taking all of this?”

I turn to him, seeing that he’s now sitting up, wide-eyed and awake.

“She’s taking it moment by moment. I don’t think she’s really wrapped her head around it all, and I guess neither have I.”

“What’s there to get?”

I know Josh deals with clientele in this entertainment industry most of the time, but for me, my spotlight has usually come in the form of camera stills, instead of a moving picture, which for some reason feels more intimidating. It’s a world that definitely feels bigger than me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like a little fish in a big pond, and when you add a new relationship to the mix,
overwhelming
would be an understatement.

Josh continues, “Skyler can be a bit needy, and she’s
unfortunately
crazy about you. Don’t forget, she doesn’t understand much more of our world than what her
Cosmopolitan
magazine tells her. Her head stays buried in her textbooks.” He pauses, as if thinking over his previous words before adding sharply, “And it should stay that way. She has a really bright future, and I don’t want her sidetracked.”

My eyes waver as I digest the comment, and I know that mentioning that I somehow got Skyler involved in an impromptu photo shoot with
 
Giovanni Vigilucci
 
might not be the best of ideas, at least not now.
 
Though, I’m sure I will have to eventually.

Guilt finds a way to creep into my gut. I’m fully aware that since I got together with Skyler she studies less than before, and I in no way want to jeopardize her incredibly bright future—but a doctor? Have I ever pictured her as a physician, taking temperatures and examining wounds? My lips curl upward at a naughty memory of playing doctor with her just recently, but that was anything but academic.

Where, or how do I picture Skye?

With me, of course
, but what about everything else?

I get serious, my voice brusque. “I have no intention of distracting her from her goals, trust me.”

Josh’s visible jaw clench insinuates that he’s said enough on the topic. “You know I want to be supportive of you two, right?”

My reflexively knitting brow is anything but accepting. “Um, call me crazy, but I highly doubt that.”

“Dude, of course I do. I know you know about Skyler’s previous boyfriend, and I know your history with breaking hearts. Let’s consider this the first step of us being okay. The only reason I get so riled up by the whole thing is because Skyler can be fragile. When she loves, she loves completely. She never does anything halfhearted. She’s been that way since we were kids. On top of that, her overanalyzing will destroy her. I just hope that you’re in it to win it, that’s all. Don’t half-ass this.”

“In it to win it?” I repeat, finding the words odd.

“Whatever. You know what I mean.”

I guess I do. I pull in a deep breath and peer at the empty seat to my left, wishing Skyler were there just so I could reach out and hold her hand, and then throw in a teasing comment to instigate my favorite reassuring Skyler smirk.

The strangest and best part about being in a relationship are those moments when I just miss Skyler. Those heart-pounding moments when I want to touch her, to feel her skin against my fingertips, to know she’s safely within arm’s reach. It never fails to pull the fractured pieces of me back together, while at the same time cause my heart to beat in a fevered frenzy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way about someone before. It’s so powerful and all-encompassing. No matter how irrationally terrified it makes me, I still love the adrenaline rush of love, and I never thought I would, but Skyler makes it worth it. Love is a beautiful agony of pain and pleasure, happy and sad, sweet and sour, and I want it all with Skyler.

“If I haven’t made it clear already, I’m terrified by what I feel for your sister, but at the same time excited by the possibilities.”

This time I swear Josh pales. Commitment was never my thing, and I’m not looking to get married anytime soon, but would Josh calling me family be so terrible?

Did I just think that?

“So, how’s she taking you leaving? Have you explained your schedule and stuff?”

I nod, realizing I’m eager to talk about what’s going on in my life with someone on the outside, because, well, it feels
 
normal.

“You know Skye. She’s always listening and absorbing—and calculating, but I know she’s resistant only because she’s worried we’ll grow apart with me working so much. She’s supportive though, incredibly supportive, actually. She runs lines with me, and gets excited. I think her resistance comes with the fame, or
the
attention I’ll get, or rather, what might be coming. I thought she wouldn’t understand that part, but she figured it all out without any explanation from me.”

“Skyler has a tendency to beat people to the punch.”

Boy, do I know it.

“Yeah, well, I had a lot of convincing to do this morning, and she understands. I haven’t told her yet about having to leave again in a couple weeks. I can’t tell if swamping her with all the information will do more damage than giving it to her on a need-to-know basis.”

Josh’s eyebrows furrow disapprovingly. “You obviously don’t completely get my sister.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t patronize her. She hates that.”

“I’m not!”

“You are! She doesn’t want to be babied with information. I suggest when you get back from New York you dish out what your schedule will be like. Rip off the Band-Aid. I mean, c’mon man, I know I’m new to this relationship thing, too, but you have to be honest. You should want to tell her anything and everything. Don’t avoid telling her to save you the hassle.”

The man has a point.

I sigh. “I’ll tell her when we get back. You’re right.”

He leans in, holding his hand up to his ear. “What was that?”

I roll my eyes. Dickhead, always at the ready. That’s the Josh I know.

He gets enough joy from the move to relax back into his seat while grinning. “Just remember, it may not seem like it, but I always have the best intentions when it comes to you and my sister. All right?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, nodding, and decide to make Josh understand. I remember this morning, tangled among the sheets, grabbing for Skyler’s face, and knowing in that moment the direction I want us to go. I want to prove to her this is anything but a fling. 
It’s all or nothing
, as Josh put it.

“I invited her to come with me to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving.”

Josh’s whole body visibly petrifies before he turns his head toward me. “You’re that serious?”

“I don’t get why this is so hard for you to understand.”

“What did she say?”

My eyebrows twist in annoyed bemusement. “She fucking said yes, man. What else would she say?”

“You’re bringing a girl home to your mom. That’s a first.”

“I brought Marguerite once.” I wince the moment her name escapes my lips.

“Yeah, but your family hated her.”

We both break into instant laughter recalling the memory of me telling him how my mom thought she was “
a raging, selfish bitch.
”

Sounds about right.

Mom usually knows best.

“You’re Blake Everett, right? Hey, Josh.”

The sweet, flighty voice sounds from beside me. I didn’t realize someone had taken the seat next to me.

I turn to face a young, blond woman, her hair in long waves over her shoulders, whose stunning hazel eyes catch me off guard. Her dark mocha lips curve upward.

Josh waves a hello, and I feel out of the loop.

“Yes? I’m sorry. I don’t think we know each other.”

She lets out an odd, overwhelming laugh, and goes back to smiling. “We don’t, at least not yet. My name is Kathryn Caraway. I’m your leading lady and publicity-circuit partner in crime. Feels funny that we’re meeting for the first time here. Glad to finally put a face to the name. I’ve been hearing your name around.”

She lifts her hand up to be shaken.

Her eyes feel heavy as they dissect me from the chest up while she waits for me to continue our introductions. She’s beautiful, to be sure. However, things have definitely changed. For once with this heart-stopping, Hollywood beauty,
 
I don’t feel a thing
.

I shake her hand and smile. “Nice to meet you.”

SKYLER

Working at Lestat’s coffee shop used to help my scholastic life and my ever erratic mind. With it being open twenty-four hours a day, it’s not only the perfect enabler to my intense coffee addiction, but has also helped my study needs while still being able to manage my work schedule. However, not today. I’m too distracted to have a glass-half-full attitude.

I peel my apron from my waist and throw it in the corner next to a mishmash of employee paraphernalia. Involuntarily a grumble audibly rolls out of my mouth.

“Skyler, he’s only been gone six hours. How are you supposed to handle the week?”

I shrug, examining my coworker Tucker’s well-rehearsed pout as he stares right back. “I’ll be fine. I just wish I had gone with him to the airport. I shouldn’t have been such a brat about it.”

“Oh, so you could mope and press your cute, button nose against the glass as you watched his flight leave? Please darlin’, consider this a week of freedom.”

My eyebrows rise at the funny thought. “Freedom? More like refocus time.”

A funny hum sounds from Tucker as he gazes dreamily into space. “I bet Blake has been all sorts of distracting. I guess I can’t blame you there.”

My lips twitch recalling the many memories of distracting Blake moments, and then I remember I’m going home to an empty house tonight.

“Earth to Skyler? Your emotions are all over the place. Here, have some tea.”

He hands off a cup of freshly brewed tea that, from its wafting aroma, I know is chamomile. I raise a brow. “Are you seriously giving me tea right now? What about coffee?”

He laughs. “I think you need to calm down first.”

“Ugh!” I huff, putting down the cup, and walk into the back room to find my bag, pulling out my cell phone.

I wish I could feel better instantly. This feeling of longing is hitting me like ton of bricks, and the want to call Blake is irrational. I reluctantly toss my phone back into my purse.

I must not be a needy girlfriend. I must not be a needy girlfriend.

Tucker’s voice echoes into the room. “Come out with Liam and me on Saturday!”

Tucker’s immature attempt to gain a smoking habit for the boy who works across the street at the bookstore wasn’t all for nothing.

“So things with Liam and you are going well?” I shout back down the hall.

As I swivel around Tucker appears with a wide, pearly-white grin as he ruffles his styled brown hair. “I think they are. It’ll be date number four, actually.”

I can’t help my proud, smug look at hearing Tucker’s tone of glee as I shimmy past him. “See, this is why I shouldn’t join you on Saturday. If it’s a date, I don’t want to intrude, especially on your budding romance. I’ll be such a mope.”

“He already wants to meet you. How about you just meet us for drinks at a bar after dinner?”

I nod a few times, considering it. “I’ll let you know.”

I swing my purse over my shoulder and head for the door.

Tucker whips me with the tip of a dishtowel, causing me to scurry out of the barista area. “Eep!”

“Skye, why don’t you get some fresh air before you hit the books. You could use it, I think. Might do you some good.”

I pause, tapping my foot furiously. “How do you know I’m studying tonight?”

He laughs, rolling his eyes. “Because, you’re the most predictable person I know.”

I’m about to berate him, but he cuts me off with a raised hand. “Excuse me. I guess that isn’t true. I mean, you did nail Blake.”

I’m tempted to ask about his choice of words, but instead head for the door. “’Bye, Tucker!”

As the afternoon sunshine hits my face and the crisp breeze flits over my skin, I can’t help thinking my flamboyant friend may have a point. I could use a walk.

I wonder why I didn’t confess to Tucker that Blake asked me to go meet his family for Thanksgiving. I’m so ecstatic about the possibilities, but is it wrong for me to want to play this moment by moment? Or at least until Blake gets back so we can discuss it more? I know I already said yes, but I want to savor it, and maybe figure out its meaning, along with processing the worry that comes with it. Will his family even like me?