But even while she schooled herself to get over the crazy fantasy of one night with him, a voice in her head forced her to listen as it whispered that being with Smith wouldn’t just be hot...it would also be easy. Sweet.
And perfect.
* * *
Valentina knocked on Smith’s trailer door, though it was already open. She valued her privacy enough to value everyone else’s, too. Especially that of a man who rarely got to have any.
“Come in.”
With his deep, inherently sensual voice rasping up her spine, her first thought was the same one she always had when she saw him.
Gorgeous.
Followed immediately by sexy.
And then want.
But close on their heels was another.
Tired.
For the past few weeks, Smith’s energy hadn’t flagged, hadn’t waned, nor had she ever once caught him complaining. But for the very first time, he looked worn down.
Her protective urges jumped to the fore. “Is everything okay?”
He got up from his desk to pour her a cup of coffee. “Much better now that you’re here.”
God, it was so hard to keep fighting her feelings for him. Because she liked him. Wanted him, too, with a desperation that was breaking her down, slowly but surely, every second he was near.
And when he wasn’t.
“I know how busy you are,” she began, but she was sick and tired of stalling around him. She’d always prided herself on being direct. Forthright. And appreciative when someone was kind. It was precisely what she’d taught Tatiana. And, she knew, what her mother had taught her before that.
Valentina moved closer to him this time, rather than farther away. “I forgot to say thank you yesterday for the flower. For breakfast. And, especially, for the photo. You didn’t have to.” She smiled at him as she said, “But I can’t deny that I’m glad you did.”
When the mirror of his smile came, it took away some of the exhaustion stamped into his nearly perfect features. “It was my pleasure, Valentina.”
He handed her the drink and their fingertips brushed as she took the mug from him.
Only, it wasn’t coffee she wanted as the word pleasure zinged around inside her head and body like a pinball.
“How do you do it?” she asked him before she could stop herself. “How do you keep all the balls in the air and give so much of yourself while still keeping it all together?”
“Keeping it all together?” He gave a slightly harsh laugh. “Jesus, Valentina, can’t you see that it’s killing me?”
“Directing, producing, and acting all at the same time is a tough order,” she agreed.
His eyes grew darker as he said, “I can handle all of that.”
She could feel the quicksand pulling her in, deeper with every word tossed out between them, with every moment she spent with Smith in his office. That quicksand had to be the reason she couldn’t leave. The reason she couldn’t even consider making herself go.
Her lips felt dry, too dry, and she had to wet them before asking, “Then what’s killing you?”
A low groan left his lips as his gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second, then back up to her eyes.
“Not doing this.”
His mouth was on hers before her heart could pound out its next beat and even though she’d come here to thank him for his thoughtful gift—not to kiss him!—somehow she was in his arms and they were kissing like he’d been away to war and had finally come home to her.
No one had ever kissed her like this. With such warmth. With such need.
And with such perfect, sweet passion.
All the things she’d ever heard about the earth spinning too fast and blood rushing and limbs going numb...they were all happening. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, more and more intense with every second that their lips and tongues collided.
Never. She’d never felt desire this intense from a man...or from herself. And yet, even as their mouths took them into more and more dangerous territory, Valentina knew it was just one more piece of the puzzle they’d been building together. Because even in this one kiss, right alongside need and heat were all the other things that connected them: family, laughter, and an easy compatibility that she couldn’t remember having with anyone other than her sister.
For the first time in her life, Valentina gave herself over entirely to a man. Not only because Smith’s kiss demanded it, but because she wanted nothing more than to feel.
Everything.
Everything she’d dreamed of for so long.
Everything she’d longed for in the secret hours of the night when her defenses came down.
Smith’s mouth moved over hers, his hands cupping her hips and pulling her in tighter before making a slow path up her back to her shoulders and then into her hair. Valentina finally let herself embrace the freedom to feel, to desire and be desired...and most of all, to pretend for a few short moments that there were no consequences to this kiss.
* * *
Smith had thought about kissing Valentina so many times, had come close enough to her mouth on enough occasions, that he’d already decided how she would taste.
Sweet like spun sugar, with just the slightest kick of exotic spice.
As a connoisseur of women, he was good. Good enough that when his lips had finally met hers, and his tongue had slid against hers on a groan of deep-seated need, he’d found out just how close he was.
But not nearly close enough, because Valentine tasted better than any of the sweetest, most succulent treats he’d ever had.
So much better, he thought as he cupped the back of her neck to pull her in closer to brush his lips over hers again and again. He loved each and every one of the little gasps and moans she made as he found the sensitive corners of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, and then the fullness of her lower lip with the very edge of his teeth.
As long as he could remember, he’d been in complete control. With women. And roles. Even, once he’d adjusted to the demands of fame, with the press and his fans.
But in the span of one kiss with Valentina, the passion, the desire, the way it spiraled the second his mouth touched hers and his hands met curves that were so much softer than he ever would have guessed...well, he wasn’t in control of any of it, not even for a second.
One kiss had been all it took to confirm not only how deep her passion lay, but also that neither of them had a prayer of fighting gravity, even if he was the only one who had accepted that truth.
When they finally drew apart to drag much-needed oxygen into their lungs, he let himself appreciate the few precious seconds he had left of Valentina still being soft in his arms, her eyes cloudy with stunned pleasure.