“The tabloids think they have me all figured out, so I like to throw them a curve ball every once in a while.” ~Johnny Outlaw
It’s been too long. I have plenty to keep my mind occupied, but I don’t want to focus on those things. I want to talk to Dalton. We have only talked once over the last week. He left a message last night, but only said, “Be ready for me,” and I haven’t heard from him since. I tried to call him back, but it went straight to voicemail. I want to hear his voice, so I’ve been listening to The Resistance as a substitute for the real thing. I turn off my music and pull up his number. After taking a deep breath, I call.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings. My nerves go into overdrive, worried he won’t answer.
Four rings.
Fiv—“Hello?”
“Dalton?”
“You have amazing timing.”
“I do?” I ask, walking downstairs to get a glass of water. My doorbell rings and I detour.
“Yes, you do. I sent you something.”
A surge of excitement fills me. “I think it’s here. Hold on. Let me get the door.” With the phone to my ear, I unlock the bolt and open the door. My mouth drops open and my phone falls as my eyes land on the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
With quick reflexes, Dalton catches my phone before it hits the ground, but all I see is the smirk on his face and his sexy body as he kneels before me. When he stands up, I jump on him, giving him a long kiss while loving the feel of his arms around me. He pulls back, enough to look me in the eyes, and with a cocky grin on his face, says, “Guess you missed me.”
“How are you even here right now?”
He gets a good firm squeeze of my ass before setting me down, and says, “Well, there’s this thing with really big wings. It’s not a bird, but a—”
“Shush it and get in here.” I grab him by the shirt and pull him inside.
“I thought you’d never ask.” After picking up his duffle bag, he follows me inside and kicks the door closed behind him. Dropping the bag, he takes a look around.
I poke him. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you had another week or so before your break?”
“We have a two day break until our next show, so I’ve got twenty-four hours with you.”
My eyes go wide and my mouth drops open again in shock. “You flew back for twenty-four hours?”
“No.” He pauses, shaking his head and then looks at me, really looks at me, and says, “I flew back for you. But I wouldn’t have cared if I only had two. I wanted to see you.” Glancing over his shoulder toward the door, he signals with his thumb. “I can go if you want.”
“I don’t want you to go,” I say, taking his arms. I pull him close, anchoring him to me.
Looking me straight in the eyes, he asks, “What do you want then?”
“You.” I move to him, closing the gap, and kiss him. His breath is minty, his body hard, making me want more than politeness allows since he just got here. Screw etiquette! This man makes me want him in very un-ladylike ways, so why pretend. Surprising him, I push him back, but continue fisting his shirt.
“What?” he asks.
“Get your ass upstairs. It’s time I show you just how much I really missed you.” I dash upstairs, and by the commotion–his heavy steps following close behind me—he’s just as anxious as I am.
Once we’re in the bedroom, we hurry to undress. A mischievous look colors his expression as he unabashedly checks me out head-to-toe. I climb onto the bed and roll onto my back, tempting him to come to me by calling him to me with my finger and a slight parting of my knees.
With a lick of his lips, a look of lust appears. “It’s so fucking sexy that you weren’t wearing panties. Might make me jealous though when I’m not with you.” After pulling his boxers down, he climbs onto the bed and hovers over me. “Tell me what a good girl you are when I’m not around.”
My breaths deepen. The feel of his warm skin against mine, teases, making me crave him even more. “I’m so good.”
“How bad are you gonna be now that I’m here?”
Watching him ready himself with a condom, I’m anxious to feel him inside me again. “Fuck me, Dalton,” I say with a breathy whisper.
“God, you’ve got a dirty mouth sometimes. So fucking hot.” His lips cover mine as he spreads my legs further apart. He leans down to my ear, and whispers, “Now show me how much you missed me, Angel.”
I gasp as he thrusts forward. I close my eyes as my back arches up, driving him for more. We both push and pull, taking and giving until our bodies are tired and gratified, trying to catch our breath.
The noon sun streams in through the sheers. My eyes are heavy, my body weighted to the bed in exhaustion, but I can’t take my eyes off of him, still astonished he’s here and even more so that he’s here just for me.
“Is the sex that good?” I whisper with a smile.
“I didn’t come here for ‘the sex’ but the sex is pretty damn awesome.” He rolls over to face me. “Wait, let me clarify that. I did come for sex, definitely hoped to get laid, but I knew there was no guarantee of it.” With a sweet smile, he asks, “How do you like your surprise?”
“Best surprise ever.” Running my finger down the defined muscles of his arm, I say, “I still can’t believe you’re here.”
“It wasn’t a selfless gesture by any means, Holliday.” He closes his eyes, looking like he could fall asleep, but he reopens them and says, “I’ve been in this business long enough to know how things play out, but you, you might just be a game changer.”
I snuggle closer, resting my head in the nook of his arm, running my fingertips over his other bicep. “You’re supposed to be player. Now what use does the infamous Johnny Outlaw have with a simple girl back in L.A.?”
He chuckles lowly, his breath hitting the top of my head. “Johnny Outlaw is all image stuff. Who I am for real is the Jack Dalton I’m giving you. As for a simple girl from L.A… there is absolutely nothing simple about her. Everything about her screams complicated with strings attached.” He whispers, “And she completely fascinates me.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, who was that guy back in Vegas?”
Surprised by the change in subject, I slide my head up to see his eyes, and ask, “What guy?”
“The one in the suit after the show. The one chasing you.”
I try to remember who he’s talking about, placing the time. “Oh, Jack.”
“What?”
“No, not you. His name was Jack.”
He’s not amused by the coincidence. “Was he your date? Were you with him?”
“No, I was at a dinner and we were seated next to each other. He was at the show with the group. It wasn’t a date.”
“He wanted it to be,” he states flatly.
Exhaling, I sigh. “I think he wanted it to be.”
His hand rubs my arm, warming my skin. “So I’ve got to worry about you being stolen out from under me while I’m gone?”
“I could ask the same thing of you.”
It’s a breath released, a whisper on the tongue, but I hear him. “You don’t.”
Somewhere between showing my ID to a hot guy at a bar and finding out he was famous, I could see a difference in Dalton. What I thought I was getting and what I got has intensified, changing both of us. “You don’t either,” I say, feeling it deep inside where no one else has been for a long time.
Needing fresh air to clear the heavy away, I ask, “You want to go to the beach?”
“We can try.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting up.
“Paparazzi follow me, Holliday. I don’t think they followed me here, but I can’t do the normal things you’re used to without attention.”
“Would you rather stay in?”
“I’d rather go to the beach if that’s where you want to go. You just need to know our trip might be cut short if they do show up.”
Twenty minutes later we’re walking down the sidewalk with a few feet between us, neither of us talking. I find myself scanning the area as if looking for spies. He keeps his attention forward, but I have a feeling he’s also checking out the area behind his sunglasses. He’s just less obvious than me.
“This is nice,” he says, regarding the neighborhood.
“I like it here. It’s quiet for the most part.”
“How do you feel about holding hands?” he asks. A small smile slides onto his face.
“Holding hands is nice. You held my hand when we left the bar in Vegas.”
With a laugh, he adds, “I didn’t want you to escape.”
I bump into his arm with a giggle. “Little did you know, I wasn’t going anywhere without you.”
“You sure did put on a show about going up to my room.”
“Eh, a girl can’t come off too easy.”
“You made me do a little work.”
“You had it easy. Or maybe I’m just easy.” I laugh. Reaching over I take his hand and with the warm breeze blowing, we swing them between us. The connection is not just easy, but also wonderful.