Over Exposed (12 page)

But not for long.

With a little moan, she rocked her hips and took him even deeper. Then she rose up on her knees and sank back down, her rhythm slow at first but picking up speed.

Her lips softened even more against his, her body arching toward him. Since he wanted as much skin contact as possible, he leaned farther back into the couch, bringing her with him, changing the angle of penetration.

She whimpered as his cock shifted inside her and hit other, more sensitive areas. Her fingers tightened in his hair then released to cup his head and hold him to her with one hand while the other curled over his shoulder. Giving her a more stable base.

Then she rode him harder.

He slid one arm around her back, stabilizing them both as they both started to lose control. Greg felt it in the tremor of his muscles and the sudden uneven rhythm of her body on his. He felt her reaching, trying to make him give her what he was instinctively withholding. Because he didn't want this to end.

He wanted to fuck her all night. Wanted to fall asleep buried inside her, wake up, and start all over again. Just the thought had his orgasm pounding at the base of his spine.

As if she'd realized how close he was, she pushed him harder. But he wasn't about to go over alone.

He slid a hand between their bodies and pressed his thumb against her clit.

She moaned into his mouth, her ass slamming down on his thighs as her pussy tightened around his cock like a fist.

Then she came.

And, holy hell, she felt like heaven. Like he'd found the perfect fit, the perfect woman, and no other would ever satisfy him again.

His orgasm blasted out of him, bowing his back until he couldn't get any farther inside her. And still he wanted more.

He thrust until she clung to him like a second skin, until he knew he was making a mess of the damn couch and he didn't give a fuck.

And when he finally gave into exhaustion and sank into the cushions, his arms so tight around her he wasn't sure he could've released her if he'd tried, he knew she'd dug a hole in his heart he wasn't sure he wanted to fill.

Five

“What about the car? Are you just going to leave it here?”

“For now, yeah.” Greg tossed her overnighter in the back of her fifteen-year-old Jeep Cherokee on Monday morning, right beside his battered black backpack and his weathered leather duffle bag. “I don't want you driving back alone.”

Sabrina bit her tongue before “You do know I'm an actual adult who's been driving for seven years,” slipped out of her mouth.

Damn him. She was totally out of sorts and it was all his fault. She'd thought, come Monday morning, she'd go back to Philadelphia. Alone.

Hell, she'd been counting on it.

These last four days had been like a really great fantasy where she'd spent the nights in a bed with the man of her dreams.

But now she needed to get back to the real world. Back to work. Back to her life, the one that didn't include him.

She'd wanted to clear her head on the drive back to Haven, to cry him out of her system.

Greg did
not
have a place in her real life. He'd been a brief, hot fling before the rest of her life happened. Every girl deserved at least one, right?

Sure, she'd briefly considered that maybe he'd follow her back to Philadelphia, but figured when they got there, he'd say, “Thanks, kid. It was fun.”

And she'd say, “It was nice,” or something equally stupid. And then the next time she'd see him, it'd be a passing glance in the lobby of Haven as he left for filming or dinner or, God forbid, with some other woman. She imagined he'd smile the first few times, but eventually he wouldn't even notice her.

She'd be heartbroken. And over him.

He wasn't sticking to the plan. Of course, he didn't know about the plan . . . but still.

“Bree? What's wrong?”

He'd taken to calling her that. It wasn't a nickname anyone else had ever used and it made her heart trip over itself whenever he said it. It was so stupid but it meant the world to her, as if she actually meant something to him other than a good time in bed.

Which didn't mean she thought he was a douchebag who'd only slept with her because they'd been together and bored. No, she thought he actually did care about her.

Then again, she could just be fooling herself. He was a guy. A rich, gorgeous, famous guy who could have any woman he wanted. And she'd been the only woman available and she'd practically thrown herself at him.

She so didn't need this. Not now.

She shook her head, not bothering with a smile because he'd know it was fake and he'd continue to ask what was wrong. “I'm just anxious to get back to work.”

His gaze narrowed as he closed the hatch but she turned back toward the building so he couldn't see her face. “I'm just going to make sure the front door's locked.”

She'd already done that twice but she needed a few seconds to catch her breath.

He didn't say anything, just felt him watching her the entire way. She took her time, sucked in a couple of deep breaths, and made sure she didn't look like she was ready to cry when she returned to the garage to find him leaning against the front of her Jeep, looking so hot she thought she might just swallow her tongue.

“Mind if I drive?” he asked. “I used to have one of these. Wish I'd kept the damn thing but some asshole totaled mine when he ran a red light in Vegas.”

“Sure. No problem.” Truthfully, she didn't want to be behind the wheel with him in the car. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her mind on the road.

Adjusting course for the passenger side, she buckled herself in and tried not to sigh over the fact that she liked having him in her car. He had to shove the driver's seat back as far as it would go, then he put one big hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.

She had the brief thought that maybe she should've asked if he could drive stick shift, but he answered that by shifting into reverse and pulling out of the garage as if the car was his.

Of course.

The plows had cleared the road yesterday, and the private plow Tyler employed to do the lane up to the retreat had followed shortly after. She'd almost wished they'd had another day, but she'd known their interlude had to end sometime and better it end now, before she really fell hard.

Right. Like that hasn't already happened?

Shifting in her chair, her legs ached and her clit throbbed from the shower sex they'd had this morning. Her breasts still felt tender and heavy and . . . God, she still felt him all over her.

As they hit the highway headed toward the turnpike, he broke the silence that had fallen while he navigated the still-dangerous back roads.

“So you want to tell me why you look like you're going to your own execution? Are you that anxious about going back to Haven?”

Her cheeks burned with a blush. How the hell could he read her so easily? Maybe she shouldn't be surprised. He'd spent most of the last three days watching her as he fucked her, so . . .

“Yeah. A little. Now that you brought it up,” she said as she took a deep breath, “maybe we should talk about what happens now.”

He slid a brief glance at her and she had no idea what he was thinking. “You mean with us?”

“I mean, I'm working for the Goldens. You're a friend of theirs and . . . I guess I just don't want there to be any . . . problems.”

Namely, she didn't want the other workers at the hotel wondering if she'd gotten her job because she was screwing the boss's best friend. Everyone already knew she was friends with Kate, the boss's girlfriend. And with Annabelle, the other boss's girlfriend. They also knew she was the youngest and greenest management trainee Tyler had ever hired. She'd told the few people who'd outright asked how she'd gotten the job the truth—that she'd met Tyler through Kate and he'd offered her an internship for the summer that had turned into a full-time position when he'd started hiring staff for the retreat.

“You don't want anyone to think you're getting special treatment. I get it. It also means you probably work five times harder than anyone else.”

She shrugged, silently acknowledging she probably did. She wanted to learn everything she could and she didn't want Tyler to regret hiring her so, yeah, she probably worked a little longer, tried a little harder.

She knew what a great opportunity had fallen into her lap, and didn't want to screw it up.

“I love what I'm doing so it's not a hardship. Everyone I work with is nice, and they've been really helpful. But most of them are older and we don't—”

He started to laugh and she realized she'd been about to stick her foot in her mouth.

Sliding him a scowl, she smacked him on the shoulder because that's what she did with her friends.

Before she could pull away though, he grabbed her hand and pulled it to his mouth, where he brushed a kiss against the inside of her wrist.

A shiver spread through her until it made the ache in her pussy even worse.

When he released her, she tried not to yank her hand away too fast.

“Hey, now, sweetheart. Don't get mean. You're already hell on my ego.”

She snorted at that, which only made him laugh harder.

“I only meant that they have their own friends and family,” she continued. “When they leave work, they go home to their boyfriends or their husbands or their kids. They've made me feel welcome but . . .”

But hanging out with the boss and his girlfriend on her nights off wasn't going to endear her to her coworkers or make them want to invite her out for drinks or dinner.

“It's tough being the new kid. I get it. And you're living at the hotel right now, aren't you? Do you like it?”

Her smile felt a little forced. “I do. Mostly. I was going to commute from home until Tyler transfers me to the retreat, but I realized when I was interning over the summer that that just wasn't going to work. The drive was murder. So Tyler leased me one of the smaller suites. He said they've done it before when employees have needed to find an apartment. I love it, it's just not—”

“It's not home.”

Exactly. And she was homesick. And lonely. Yes, she worked long hours but Tyler wasn't a slave driver. She had downtime. Some of that was spent with Kate and Annabelle. Some was spent exploring the city. Mostly though, she worked, went back to her suite, ate, and watched TV until she fell asleep. Then she started all over again.

“You still feel out of place.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I do.” And wow, did she sound like a whiner. “But I'm not bored. And I love what I'm doing. I never thought I'd say this but I really miss my family.”

“Tough to go from living with a houseful of people to living by yourself.”

“The thing is, I thought I'd love it.” Turning slightly in her seat so she could see him better, she held back a sigh. He really was a beautiful man. Not pretty, just . . . so damn handsome. “You know, a bathroom all to myself, no one eating my cookies. But—”

“You're lonely.”

She grimaced. “Sounds stupid, I know. I'm living in a city full of people and things to do and I miss my younger sisters coming to talk to me about school, and playing games with my brothers.”

“Sounds like you're close to your family.”

“I am. But even when I move to the retreat, I plan to get an apartment. Just not that far away.”

“I didn't have a lot of money when I moved to California and I was broke most of the first year, so I didn't do much but work whatever jobs I could get. And I was always close to my sister, so when I moved to Hollywood, there were nights I'd spend hours on the phone with her.” He laughed and her chest got tight. “Of course, I always called collect so my parents' phone bill had to be astronomical. But they never complained.” He smiled at her, their gazes connecting for a brief, heart-stopping moment. “It'll get better. You'll meet people.”

A silence fell then, and if she hadn't been watching him, she would've missed the look that crossed his face. The one that made her wish for things she knew she couldn't have.

Then he reached for her hand resting on her knee and squeezed. Without thought, she flipped her hand and laced their fingers together.

*  *

When Sabrina laced her fingers through his, Greg wanted to beat his chest like a caveman. Which made him feel ridiculous. But hopeful.

He'd already decided he wasn't ready to end whatever this thing was they were doing when they got back to Philly. Yes, he had to be on a plane for California early tomorrow morning. But he'd be back in less than a month.

He wanted to see her when he got back, and he would do everything in his power to make sure it happened.

But he'd figured he was going to have an uphill battle with her.

Then she'd started talking about work and he'd realized exactly what pursuing a relationship with him would mean.

First off, they'd either have to do it in complete secrecy or . . . well, there really wasn't an “or,” was there? And they'd have to be superhero stealthy about it because once the paparazzi got wind that he was seeing someone, it'd be all over the rags. With Neal and Daisy scheduled to arrive for filming right after he got back, there'd be additional press and . . .

Jesus, what a bad fucking time to fall for a woman. A twenty-three-year-old with absolutely no idea what hell he'd bring to her life just by virtue of sharing his bed.

He should be smart about this, at least for her sake. He should've let her go back to Haven by herself and left her alone. It's what she'd expected. He'd seen her surprise when he'd told her he'd be driving back with her. Which had pissed him off because she'd
expected
him to dump her.

Damn it, he wasn't that much of an ass. At least, he hoped he wasn't.

And now that he'd made up his mind to continue seeing her, he wasn't about to give her up.

They fell silent as he drove, and he realized there was music playing. Pink, he thought. For the rest of the drive they talked, first about music, which became a discussion about how the singer used her personal life as fodder for some of her songs, which became a discussion about the way Hollywood stars were portrayed in the tabloids and how their lives became public domain.

By the time he pulled her Jeep into the garage at Haven, he'd pretty much convinced himself he wouldn't have to worry about seeing her again because she'd go out of her way to avoid him.

She'd shuddered when he'd talked about the paparazzi. About the lack of privacy and the lies and the general shit you had to deal with. He also knew he'd do whatever he needed to not let her get away.

She stared straight ahead silently as he pulled up to the guard's booth and exchanged hellos with the off-duty Philadelphia cop manning it.

The guy was good. He'd probably recognized the Jeep as Sabrina's but he'd shown no surprise when he'd found Greg behind the wheel. He said hello to Ms. Rodriquez, who gave him a weak but genuine smile, then told them to have a good day as he raised the gate.