Page 17 of Take 2
“I would never.” The sentence is half giggled, my eyes crinkling at the corners because it’s impossible to be stone-faced when I tease him.
His hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt. “Happy anniversary, Bella.” He nibbles at my neck while his fingers find the hem of my panties.
“It’s not our anniversary.” My fingers dig into his shoulders when he puffs out a breath upon finding me wet. “Our first kiss was on March seventh.” My voice is breathy. “We didn’t even know each other this time last year.”
“The date doesn’t matter, babe. Our anniversary is the Oscars.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that kind of logic.” I undo his pants with trembling hands.
“You looked so hot that night. I wanted to fuck you in that dress so bad.”
He has since then. It was a Christmas request.
“Should I take that into consideration from now on when I shop for my Oscars dresses?” His fingers pull away so he can take off his shirt, which I’m tugging at. He sweeps his undershirt off him next and hurls it toward the pillows, leaving me with a drool-worthy view of his chest and abs. “Whether we can have sex in them?”
He kisses me harder this time. I groan into his mouth when he squeezes my boob, but he doesn’t do anything in the way of taking the dress off. “Yeah. I want to fuck you in all of your Oscars dresses. And someday, your own Oscar will be in the room when I do.”
I bite down on my lips, his, my hand, a pillow, to muffle my screams as my mind goes so blank I might not be able to say who won anything tonight.
Except for me. I won big.
Chapter Seven
Waveslooklikefins.Laguna Beach is known for dolphin sightings, but I really don’t know if I’ve seen a bunch of them or none. Why don’t they jump out of the water and do flips like in the movies? That would be easier.
I look back down at my book and kick my feet behind me. Any onlooker would assume I’m in full relaxation mode, lying here on my stomach, reading, and occasionally gazing at the Pacific from my beach towel. Except there’s a notebook underneath my novel. Consuming stories is always fodder for my own. Dialogue lines, characters, and plot points come from books, movies, TV, and even songs all the time.
My paperweight rings, and I ignore the call. Even if I’m notfullyrelaxing, I don’t need to seek out ways to raise my blood pressure.
A text message follows up the call.
Fucking Preston Greene: If I make my number show up as car warranty would you answer?
I slide a bookmark in and let the wind blow the pages when I pick up my phone.
Me: Only if I’m asleep. But calling at any time of day is now considered a hostile act.
Fucking Preston Greene: Just for me or does this apply to everyone?
Me: Everyone, but worse when it’s you.
I roll onto my back to give my elbows a break. When Preston’s response comes through, I drop my phone onto my chest. I jolt up and fumble for it to read the message again.
Fucking Preston Greene: Okay, I’ll just book our flights and send you the confirmations.
My finger jabs at the screen like this is all my phone’s fault.
Preston answers after one ring. “You know, calling is now considered a hostile act.”
“I am hostile,” I snap. “What are you talking about flights for?”
“I’m going to spend a few weeks on a shoot, and you’re coming with me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To meet Rafi.” He says this like I have a fucking clue who he’s talking about.
“Rafi?”
