Malibu Betrayals (9 page)

He pressed his mouth to hers and pulled her close. There was such give and take, it heightened every sensation—almost too much to bear.

Every hard angle and muscled mound of his body called to her, and she kissed him back.

His hands caressed her everywhere, the caps of her shoulders, the length of her arms, along the dip of her spine, and over the round curves of her ass. “Sam.”

“I’m showing you.” She pushed him down to the shower bench. He pressed his lips into her lower stomach and rubbed his slick fingers between her legs. Pleasure struck fast and sharp, making her knees tremble. She threw her head back and pressed against his hand. Twisting at her waist, she wiped the fogged up door, revealing the mirror over the sink through the vertical slices of glass that ran floor to ceiling. A perfect view of their naked forms enticed them to watch, from only a few feet away in the narrow but long bathroom. Voyeurs and exhibitionists all at the same time.

“God.” His voice strained, Gage maneuvered her, pulling her back to straddle his legs, her back to his chest. The heat, the steam, his slippery skin. The feel of his wet lips gliding along her ass. Low in her belly, a white-hot knot of need pulsed heavy and insistent. She wanted nothing more than Gage, right now, her way, this moment. And he wanted her to have him. The knowledge was addicting.

Grabbing his thighs for support, she lowered her hot, throbbing body onto him and watched as he disappeared into her. The sensation of his slick heat stroking her insides, along with the image of their naked bodies in the mirror, pulled a moan from her throat.

Sam splashed the door with water, clearing the steam. “Look, Gage, look at your eyes.”

Gage glanced up over her shoulder and his grip tightened at her waist. Her hair hung over her shoulders in dark wet strands around her breasts, his length disappearing into her. But his eyes. They glowed a bright green in contrast with the dark color of her own. Their gazes locked.

She didn’t feel shame or embarrassment, but instead raw hunger and urgent need.

Sensation sliced through her body, stealing her breath, building, pushing. He flexed his body beneath her. Pulling out. Pushing in. She reached to a corner shelf and grabbed her mini vibrator. As he moved, she swirled the small device against herself, free, open. This was her, all her, and never again would she hide what she wanted. With Gage she didn’t have to.

He never blinked. His eyes grew more intense as he watched, his efforts only increasing. Sam, too, couldn’t tear her gaze from the seductive image in the mirror. Their breaths came out in short gasps. Heat rising. Intensity sharpening, stretching.

Sam swiped at the glass door again. His eyes on her filled her with a power she’d never known before. The gentle vibration built in heat and burst into a white light of ecstasy. She bucked back against him.

Wave after wave shot from her core outward, and she buckled forward. Gage held her with his hands on her breasts, forcing her down his shaft with increasing speed.

He pulled her back until she met his gaze once again in the mirror, and she braced her hands against the shower glass wall. Deep rolling throbs radiated from her center with each thrust. Moving one hand to his hard thigh and the other over his hand at her breast, she gave up all control of remaining upright. He flexed and pulled, demanding a deeper entry with each stroke until his head dipped and his lips pressed into her shoulder. His body tight. Both of them straining forward. He never let her falter.

Another wave of pleasure exploded from where their heated flesh joined, and she matched him moan for moan on his last thrust.

Her body limp and pulsing in small echoes, she followed Gage down to the bench and slid her legs out long in front of them, dropping her head back. Gage rained kisses along her neck, up her cheek, and turning her head, captured her lips. The shower continued to spray around them, water sluicing down their limbs.

Sam pressed her lips to his jaw. “Now, I feel clean.”

Gage laughed. On a sigh that could only be of exhaustion, or exhilaration—probably both—he all but melted back against the shower wall.

Sam smiled, and pulling his arms around her chest, gave a tight squeeze, the resulting ebb and flow still drumming through her body in light pulses of heat.

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she stared at him through the glass like she was seeing him for the first time. He gave her so much more than he received. In all her time with Ethan, he’d never given her a fraction of what Gage showered upon her, as if he was the one being given a gift.

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. The idea that she’d simply get him out of her system revealed itself—or rather her—to be ridiculous. It was a shame that foresight wasn’t as clear as hindsight because then it may have saved her from her great plans.

She should have known better.

Plans only make you take the first step. They rarely lead you to your destination.

Chapter Nine

Gage and Sam walked onto the film set with the rest of the crew the following morning, calm and collected as if they’d never even entertained the thought of sleeping together. They’d finished their shower the night before and then devoured her cupboard of pastries—a rebellious addition to the kitchen after Ethan had died—talking late into the night. Not until after one last round did they fall into a deep slumber. Well, at least Gage had.

Sam had worried well into the early morning. Conversations deep into the night did not go along with light and easy. She needed to rein them both back in. It was okay if Gage couldn’t, or didn’t want to; she could and knew she had to. But right now she felt too good to do anything about it. Too warm, too happy—too whole.

They made their way around the line of trailers nearly running into Dani as she hurried around the corner of one.

She pulled up short with a quick look over her shoulder. “Oh, hi guys.” She gave them an absent-minded wave of her fingers and then continued past them at a brisk pace without looking back.

“She’s always running from place to place. I’m tired just watching her.” Sam shook her head with a chuckle as they made their way inside.

Martin looked up from his table and sent a wink her way. Heat rushed to her temples, and she double-checked to make sure there was appropriate distance between her and Gage. She felt torn in two; on one side she was having an illicit, exciting affair, and on the other she remembered how good it was to share a little of herself last night. She’d opened up to him a little more with each minute. About her family, about Ethan. Gage hadn’t been able to understand Ethan’s perception of Samantha Dekker. To Gage’s way of thinking, there was only one. Only one that had any basis in reality, anyway. His. She appreciated it but couldn’t help the pinch that settled between her shoulder blades.

They wound their way back to her worktable when Dani stuck her head around the corner, smiling, and a bit breathless.

Sam smiled with a shake of her head. “Wow, Dani, you are working double time today.”

She shrugged and stepped around the shelving. “Busy, busy. Sorry, Mr. Cutler,” Dani said, stepping close to Gage.

A little too close as far as Sam was concerned, but before she could finish the thought, Dani turned to her, placing a hand on her arm. “Mr. Gallagher has a few scenes he wants Ms. Dekker to work on right away.”

Gage smiled. “See ya later.” It came across cool—friendly and dismissing—but Sam had special privilege that allowed her to interpret the smile with a whole different heat.

A high-pitched laugh turned his lips from lava to ice. He froze and then straightened, any good humor a fleeting memory, his face a mask of cement.

Sam reached out to him. “What is it?”

He clenched his hands at his sides but pasted a smile to his face, the effort obvious. With a shake of his head, he waved them on. “Nothing, go. You’ve got work. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Sam followed along with Dani but watched Gage over her shoulder. She couldn’t help but cut her eyes toward the woman laughing like a crow and then back to Gage. He visibly winced.

Looked like there might be a new cast member. Everyone knew of her feud with Gage, but the woman in question was B-list at best. No one paid attention to her antics—he shouldn’t, either.

Cecilia Lombardi caught their glances from the corner of her eye. She turned her head toward Gage and then lifted her nose in the air with a dismissive turn of her head. Sam stopped in her tracks, digging her nails into her palms.

Dani tapped on her arm. “Sorry to rush you, but Martin’s waiting.” Sam swore Dani smiled, not in a friendly “come along” fashion, but more of a secret amusement kind of way.

She shook herself. For Pete’s sake the girl’s been nothing but helpful.

Sam nodded, but cut one last narrowed look at Cecilia Lombardi. Sam followed Dani through the maze of cameras, lighting, and cords, barely listening to the assistant ramble on about her excitement for Hollywood. Concern for Gage muddled her focus. She craned her neck to see if he was okay, only to find him still standing in one spot, staring across the room. What was going on?

Shaking her head, she turned her focus to Martin. He grabbed the screenplay. “I want you to take a look at a few scenes that are coming up. I don’t see them working with Gage.”

He marked the pages and handed her the copy. “I’ll need it by the end of the week. Shooting the scenes starts the week after. I want you to take a close look to make sure we have it just right by then.”

Sam took the bound papers. “I’ll work on it. No problem.” She flipped through the pages until she came to the places he’d marked and scanned over the troubling scenes. She choked. “Martin!”

He shook his head with one quick movement. “I don’t want to hear it. You’ll know what isn’t right.”

“This is a sex scene.”

“An important sex scene. This is the last time his character will feel a woman in his arms, and he knows it. And you know Gage.”

Sam shook her head in denial. “I don’t know him that well.”

Martin stilled her with a hard stare. “You’re a woman.”

She tilted her head. “Thanks?”

He waved away her sarcasm. “I need another perspective. I want to make sure it’s right.”

She tapped the screenplay on her thigh. Irritation, or was it embarrassment, settled on her shoulders. She strained to see through all of the equipment to the other side of the set. “So, what’s going on over there? Lombardi’s hardly worth worrying about.”

Martin cleared his throat and pushed up from his seat. “I’ve got work to do. Take it up with Gage.” Then he spoke, sotto voce, as he ambled down the stairs, “God knows I have to.”

…

Gage turned his back on his mother and made his way as far to the other side of the set as he could possibly go. An ache radiated along his jaw. He forced himself to relax, unclench his teeth, and take a few deep breaths. It amazed him how, at thirty-eight, the sight of the woman smacked him back into his childhood.

It had taken days before Belina had quit crying. She’d refused to be alone. Terrified either he or their father would disappear next. Gage had a persistent shadow from that point on. Though there had been times he’d wanted to strangle her, he wouldn’t change a thing. He didn’t know many people fortunate enough to have a relationship like he did with his family.

Gage grabbed his copy of the screenplay and flipped through it. He tried to study his lines for the first sequence of the day, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. Images of the last time he’d run into Cecilia crowded to the forefront, blurring the words on the page.

During a premier of one of his movies, they’d bumped into one another on the red carpet. The reporters pounced like hungry hyenas, and the camera flashes were blinding.

Cecilia outright ignored him any time their paths crossed. Rumors had circulated about their relationship, but she firmly denied any association, and he refused to respond at all.

That night, she never even made direct eye contact with him, and they’d been standing within two feet of one another, at
his
premier no less.

The opportunity to capture the two of them at the same time in a photo was too much for any of the paparazzi to resist. His mother loved to feed the frenzy. She’d ranted about the treatment, even deflected questions by saying he’d been a “wanna-be” trying to steal her limelight.

Like he’d need to.

Though that fact didn’t ease any of his pain.

How much had he drunk that night? Gage shook his head and licked his lips, suddenly thirsty. It wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. But that was before; he was different now. Having to remind himself of the fact annoyed him even more.

Martin Gallagher rounded a corner and stopped in his tracks. His hands were clasped in front of him, and he had a determined set to his jaw.

Gage narrowed his eyes.

Martin threw his hands up. “Now, boy, I know what you’re going to say.”

“Really?” Gage tossed the screenplay onto the work surface and faced the director. “If you know what I’m going to say, then what is that woman doing here in the first place?” He worked hard to keep his voice from rising. The last thing he wanted was an audience, or for his mother to hear him and start spouting off in histrionics. Each of the scenes she’d caused so far only worsened and strengthened the rumors. The last he’d heard, they were lovers. He’d been sick to his stomach.

Martin sighed and walked toward him. “I know. She’s dating the producer. From what I understand, she dropped by to say hello and hoped for the opening in the cast.”

Gage gritted his teeth. “I’d heard. I just hoped you’d say no.”

“Gage, be reasonable. Don’t let her—”

“No. If she’s in, I’m out.” His heart pounded in his chest as tension tightened down on his shoulders like a vice. He was all bluff and bluster, but seeing her was like getting smacked in the face with a baseball bat. The bright light from an opened door beckoned to him. The set felt like a dungeon, and he needed to escape. He made his way toward the fresh air, pulling a slow breath in and forcing it out.

“Gage. Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back for first call.” He waved his hand just above his shoulder without looking back.

Cecilia Lombardi might be in bed with the producer, but those were dirty, dirty sheets, and he’d tear the house down around them trying to find a way not to have to shoot a film with her.

Gage tried to shove his mother out of his head as he worked through the long hours. The whole last sequence had been a debacle. He’d been too tense and it showed, which affected his leading lady. The producer, pissed because he’d have to face a lonely bed after having to send his girlfriend home, took it out on Gage—which, though not fun, was well worth the aggression. And Martin terrified the crew, since the sequence resulted in such, well, shit.

The vicious cycle didn’t end until the beyond-frustrated director threw his hands up in defeat and called an end to the day.

Gage wanted no part of that and steered clear of Martin. He collected his things and made a beeline to his car. He pulled open the door and tossed his belongings to the passenger’s seat.

“Were you really going to leave without seeing me?”

The voice spoken so softly behind him took him back to the night they’d first met in the bar. He dropped his chin to his chest. He wasn’t sure if he had the energy to fight his past or fight for his future at the moment.

Sam laid a hand on the center of his back.

“I’m tired. Besides, someone might see you.”

Her hand left his back. “Can I come with you?”

“I don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Let’s go to my place. We’ll be careful.”

The heaviness in his chest fought with the desire to have her close. He nodded once, then walked around the car, and checking over both shoulders, opened the passenger side door.

Sam picked up the items he’d tossed there and got in, settling his things on her lap.

Gage closed the door and walked back around to his side. He had to figure out what to do with her. She didn’t want help but wanted to give it, and she didn’t want to be taken care of but needed to be, didn’t want to be seen, but got in the car with him.

Well, part of that wasn’t exactly true. She could technically take care of herself. But if she wasn’t pushed out of her comfort zone, she’d never leave it, and there were too many wonderful things about her when she did. He’d been watching her bloom little by little.

He settled in the car, the events over the past weeks rolling through his mind as he drove. His breathing calmed as he pictured Sam’s light-hearted smile and steamy glances. He tensed in his seat, the tightness in his chest shifting.

He glanced at her profile, then focused his gaze back to the road ahead. She’d curled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around his bag, staring off into the distance, a slight upward tilt to her lips. A comfortable warmth filled his chest, and he settled more deeply into his seat. It was nice having someone to ride along with, sharing space, enjoying the silence with no need to talk. Comfortable, comforting.

Apparently he wasn’t the kind of guy women held on to. Oh, many wanted a piece of him. Many wanted to benefit from whichever of his talents drew them near, but he caught onto their games with the first glance. They were never interested in the work, the mundane of making something that would last.

He sighed.

Sam reached out and laid her hand on his thigh, the heat of her touch immediate, his body’s reaction more so, and he quelled the urge to shift in his seat again. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but he felt too raw.

“Are you going to tell me what happened back there?” she asked quietly.

Gage’s first instinct was to say nothing, his second was to say, “nothing,” but she wouldn’t buy any of it. Besides, he couldn’t stand it when she did that to him. “Cecilia and I don’t exactly mesh well.”

“I’m familiar with her antics. She makes no sense. Why get so freaked out over rumors? Besides, an easy ‘no’ would answer the question. I don’t get all the drama or why she’s so vicious. Unless, you insulted her or something in the past?”

Gage cut his eyes to her. She still had no idea, and he didn’t feel like telling her, either.

“No, no, of course not. Sorry.” Sam shifted in her seat and studied him, biting her lip.

Gage blew out a breath and pulled into Sam’s parking lot. He turned off the engine and then gathered his things from her lap. They walked toward the condo entrance, the evening air cool and humid against his skin, soothing him.

Sam remained quiet during the elevator ride up to her place. They pushed through her front door, and peace filled him when she closed it and locked out the rest of the world. He walked through the kitchen and living room to the windows, dropping his bag on the ground at his feet.

She watched him and then poured them both a drink. He took the scotch and let the deep bite roll around his tongue before the burn warmed his throat. “Wow, that’s smooth. My dad would love this.”

She shrugged. “I learned a thing or two from Ethan. Only the best.” She raised her glass in a toast, her fake chuckle telling him more than her words.