Sam has me on the edge of coming as he knocks my hands away from his cock and pins them up over my head, lowering himself onto me. His firm torso presses against mine, my full breasts billowing against the panes of his chest. I brace myself as the tip of his cock presses against my wet, eager sex. That delicious pressure mounts between my legs, and I hold my breath, desperate to feel him fill me up. I suck in a huge breath as he draws back his hips, prepares to thrust up into me and do his part to fulfill my insatiable desire—
Chapter One
Los Angeles, CA, Present day...
“Kelly, are you even listening to me?”
“Huh?” I reply, snapping sharply out of my sexy daydream. My entire body feels flushed, alive, and rather inappropriately turned on. That’s what I get for letting myself fantasize in public. I blink across the impeccably set dinner table, the upscale sushi restaurant coming back into focus around me. Across the plates of sashimi, my boyfriend Bryan’s face has collapsed into a testy scowl.
“Clearly not,” he mutters, clicking his chopsticks together with annoyance, “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that anymore.”
“Sorry babe,” I smile, reaching across the table for his hand, “My mind was just wandering a little.”
Wandering quite a lot is more like it, but Bryan doesn’t need to know that. It’s amazing how memories of the Forty-Five Club manage to swallow me whole whenever they surface. My fleeting time there has been on my mind a lot, lately, especially thoughts of Sam. My heart twinges as I think about my bearded lover in the present tense. Even though I only knew Sam for a short while, it still hurts to think about him.
A few short weeks after our little fling went down, Sam was killed in a motorcycle accident outside of Las Vegas. I haven’t heard much else about what happened, but it doesn’t sound like the club has ruled out foul play. Sam was a great guy. I can’t help but wonder what might have become of us, if we’d had time to get to know each other. Mourning his loss was complicated and more difficult than I let on. Was I really mourning the man I’d met, or the loss of a potential life with Dante’s Nine? It’s tough to say for sure.
“And there you go again,” Bryan says exasperatedly, “Am I really so boring that you can’t keep your mind on our conversation for three seconds?”
“Don’t get all huffy,” I sigh, glancing around the hushed restaurant, “I thought we were just having a nice meal. If I’d known that laser focus was going to be mandatory—”
Bryan’s brown eyes flash with indignation, his angry look transforming his entire face. My boyfriend is, by all rights, a wickedly attractive man. He has to be—it’s his profession, after all. Bryan is an actor and model, and a moderately successful one at that. His brooding, pretty boy face has graced the big screen more than a couple of times, albeit in very small roles. And his gym-sharpened body has rocked its share of underwear ads. We met while I was doing some event marketing work for the movie studio that released his last picture. I admit, I was a bit star-struck by him. He may not be a household name, but I was and am still impressed. Even when he starts acting like a high-maintenance diva at dinner.
“You know that I don’t like being ignored,” he says crisply, his sharp, clean-shaven jaw pulsing with tension.
“Oh, yes. I know how important attention is to you,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “But I assure you, babe, you can survive not being the center of attention for a minute. Attention-depravation is not actually fatal.”
“Don’t pull that sassy, empowered woman crap with me,” Bryan snaps, “It’s fucking exhausting, Kelly.”
“Well, I can’t help you there,” I shrug, “That’s just the way I am. You should know that after six months.”
My mention of our dating timeline cools both our tempers. That’s why we’re here at this far-too-expensive restaurant, after all—celebrating our six month anniversary. I swallow a little smile, remembering how angry Bryan got when I pointed out that anniversaries mark years, not months. It’s a good thing he’s cute and rich, because he does not have a whole lot else going for him. I was still reeling from Sam’s death a bit when I met Bryan. He seemed like such a clean-cut, upstanding alternative to the bad boy biker who’d swayed my heart. But I’ve been realizing lately that even movie stars have their flaws. Or in Bryan’s case, many flaws.
“You’re right,” Bryan says, sighing dramatically, “You can’t help the way you are. I don’t blame you for being difficult.”
“Gee. Thanks,” I say dryly.
“At the end of the day, I like all of those things about you,” he says, running a hand through his artfully-tousled blonde hair, “You’re stubborn as hell and impossible to get along with sometimes. You’ve got the whole angry feminist thing going on, but it’s kind of hot.”
“And you’re incredibly well-kept and charismatic, despite your egomania and narcissism,” I smile, “Look at us, doling out the compliments.”
“Exactly,” Bryan says, flashing me his million dollar smile, “I think we work well together. This is a partnership that makes sense to me.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. Are we talking about a business deal or a relationship here? If I’m honest with myself, there’s no good reason for me to be dating this person. But at this point in my life, I’m feeling a little lost. I feel like I’ve just been stumbling into one thing after another since my run-in with Dante’s Nine. I know I need to start standing up for what I actually want, but really doing that’s another matter.
My skeptical look goes unnoticed as Bryan snaps for the waiter’s attention. My skin crawls at that awful habit of his, and I smile apologetically at our server as he hurries over with a plate of assorted mochi.
“Hope you saved some room for dessert,” Bryan says grandly, crossing his arms with smug satisfaction.
“I’m actually pretty full,” I reply, pushing the plate toward him, “You should help yourself, though.”
“First of all, you know I don’t eat dessert. My agents would kill me,” he replies, his glee wavering, “And second of all...just...look at the damn plate.”
I begrudgingly lower my gaze to the assembled confections. A vibrant glint catches my eye, and I lean in closer to investigate.
“What the hell...” I mutter, nudging a treat aside for a better look. Only then do I realize what Bryan’s been on about. The room spins wildly around me as the air rushes out of my lungs. Nestled between the sweet desserts is a gigantic granddaddy of a diamond ring. There’s only one thing a rock of that momentous size could mean.