Julian
I HAVE ENOUGH morning wood to populate a forest.
Not a surprise with Ashley’s ass snuggled up against me. For a minute, I do nothing but take in the feeling of waking up next to her. I can’t see her face, but if she enjoyed last night as much as I did, her lips should be curved into a satisfied smile even in sleep.
I’m not going to start something I can’t finish, though, so I slip out of bed and dip into the restroom. A few minutes later, I return to the bedroom and find Ashley stretching on the bed.
Perfect timing.
She gives me that satisfied smile I was hoping for, and then she stretches her mouth wide and yawns. “What time is it?”
I pick up my phone from the nightstand. “Just after nine.”
She bolts upright and slaps her hands against her cheeks. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“What is it?”
She rolls out of the bed with a sigh, and I take a moment to appreciate the roundness of her firm ass.
Still naked, she flits around the room gathering stuff. “I need to be at the airport in an hour. Can you take Melanie back with you?”
“Of course.”
She pouts at me. “I’ll be gone a few days. And now there’s not enough time to enjoy the afterglow.”
“Is that what we’re doing?”
She studies me warily. “Regrets so soon?”
How can I regret the best sex of my life with a woman I care about? “Hell to the no. Zero regrets.”
She grins from ear to ear and steps into my embrace. “Good. Then we’ll spend a few days apart and unload on each other when I get back. The good kind of unloading, I mean.”
I waggle my eyebrows at her. “That’ll be a lot of unloading.”
She draws back and lifts a finger in warning. “So long as it’s not unloaded in my hair, we’re good.”
I bark out a laugh. “No worries. My aim is impeccable. I’m talking sniper-level accuracy.”
She pushes me away. “You’re such a boy.”
I take her hand and help her stroke my dick. “This is all man, baby.”
Her lids grow heavy. “Yes, yes, it is, but we don’t have time.”
Dammit. Not what I want to hear. “A quickie?”
She jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist so quickly I scramble to grab her.
But a knock on the cottage door causes me to lose my grip, and she falls to the floor.
“Oh shit, Ash,” I say as I pull her up.
She snorts and rubs her ass with one hand while placing a finger over her mouth to shush me. “That could be my dad.”
I grab my sweats off the armchair and put them on at turbo speed. “You answer it. I’ll get dressed and rustle up the sheets in the other room.”
Taking my T-shirt with me, I sprint to the room Eva stayed in. I’ve got my head through the collar when I hear Susan talking to Ashley in the common room. “You asked me to be sure you were up. And now I see that you are. Did you have a good time last night?”
Ashley groans. “Don’t do this, Mom. I can’t with you.”
I can imagine Susan’s facial expression. To say she’s no prude would be an understatement.
Susan laughs. “All right, all right. Just be glad it’s not your father. He thinks Julian left last night and wondered why you wanted to sleep here alone.”
“Bless you for covering for me.”
“Oh, I didn’t cover for you. I simply pretended not to hear him when he made that assumption. It’s a handy tactic when you’re married.”
“I’m grateful.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to get ready.” There’s some shuffling, and then, “Julian, you might want to head out with Ashley. Just a suggestion. I’ll say my good-byes now.”
I poke my head out, but I don’t look her in the eyes. “Take care. Thanks for your hospitality.”
“Oh, dear,” she says before she walks out the door. I can hear her cackling outside as she treks back to the house.
I venture into the common room, and Ashley shakes her head at me. “Thanks for your hospitality?”
I shrug. “The pressure got to me, okay?”
“But you thrive under pressure. You’ve said so many times.”
“Work pressure, sure. But I crumble under I-just-boned-your-daughter-and-now-I-have-to-talk-to-you pressure.”
“So long as the boning-the-daughter part is on point, I couldn’t care less about anything else.”
“Happy to give you a demonstration to alleviate any fears you may have.”
She shakes her head and looks at her watch. “No time. I need to run to the house to say good-bye to everyone. But I’ll take a rain check.”
I palm her ass and pull her to me. “Fitting. Because when you get back from your trip, you’re going to be drenched.”
She smirks at me. “Promises, promises.”
“Facts and more facts,” I counter.
Now all I need to do is get through the next few nights without her. Should be easy enough, right?
WHAT SHOULD HAVE been simple turns out to be more difficult than I could have imagined. A mountain of work awaits me when I return to LA—scripts I need to review, contracts I need to negotiate, and asses I need to kick. Barry Sanderson, the eccentric director who’s been making noises about wanting to work with Carter, calls and tells me to expect a hand-delivered script soon. But thoughts of Ashley permeate the frenzy, and coming home to an empty unit no longer calms me. Instead, I’m restless in her absence.
The first night, I strum on her guitar even though I’ve never touched the instrument in my life. The second night, I text her just to say hello, and when she doesn’t respond, I imagine a thousand scenarios to explain why. When she finally gets back to me, I read her response wearing a goofy grin. The third night, I contemplate sleeping in her bed but eventually conclude I’m being creepy as fuck.
The night she’s due back, I celebrate signing Gabriel Vega by meeting him for dinner. It’s a welcome diversion from thinking about Ashley throughout the day. I need to get a grip where she’s concerned, and my brain is slow to cooperate. It’s not a state I’m familiar with. Being overworked has been my drug of choice for years, leaving me no time to think about my nonexistent love life. Enter Ashley, and I have no idea what I’m doing.
Gabriel and I are seated in a booth at Starlight, a small corner café with walls covered in framed photos of Hollywood stars.
Gabriel cranes his neck as he surveys the scene.
“Hoping to spot someone famous?” I ask him.
He straightens and faces me. “Sorry. Was I that obvious? It’s just . . . I have an agent, man. I’m excited.”
“You should be. But let’s be clear, you have an agency backing you now. Not one person, okay? That’s why I wanted you to meet the team, so you could go to them if you need help.”
“Right. You made that clear. But you’ll be my point person?”
“Yes, I’ll be your person on the ground, so to speak. I’ll hustle for you, talk you up, help you navigate the bullshit. It’s a partnership, okay? If you ever feel I’m not doing enough for you, tell me. I might not agree with you, but I’m mature enough to recognize I’ll get it wrong sometimes.”
“Well, I’m glad you brought me in. We’re going to do great things together. I can feel it.”
Taking in his fresh face and bright smile, I can’t help remembering Carter’s early enthusiasm. The business chips away at that eagerness over time, but when an actor’s first starting out, it’s a jolt of energy that fires me up, too. My job is to channel it so Gabriel can get good work and—importantly for us both—so he can get paid. This is where I excel.
After the server takes our order, I lean forward. “Let’s talk about your game plan.”
We discuss his roles to date, and I suggest a few changes to his résumé. “My biggest concern for you is that it’s clear from your roles so far that you’re being typecast.” I recall the tense conversation I had with Quinn a few weeks ago. My gut tells me the best approach would be to address the matter head-on and say outright—in black and white—that Gabe isn’t interested in stereotypical roles. Quinn would murder me, though, so I settle on a temporary work-around until I know more about how he’ll be received. “I’m going to focus on getting your name out to casting directors who’ve done right by other minority actors. As for casting calls, we’ll go over those together and be sure you’re on board with the role before I do any networking.”
As I talk, Gabe’s smile wanes. He leans forward, his gaze and elbows on the table. “And what happens if the roles are too few and far between? What do we do then?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what we’ll do, but we’ll figure it out together, okay? For now, spruce up that résumé. I’ll start making calls.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Excusing myself, I pull it out and see a message from Ashley:
I’m home. See you soon, Care Bear. Can’t wait.
Now I have a significant incentive to finish this conversation. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can get home. Home to Ashley.
I slip my phone back in my jacket pocket and motion for the server to bring the check. “So we’re good?”
Gabe draws back and stretches in his chair. “There’s one more thing . . .”
Hearing the hesitation in his voice, I lean forward and study him. He’s not meeting my gaze, and he’s fidgeting with the unused cutlery beside his plate. “Gabe, I’m your agent now. I want you to feel comfortable talking to me. Believe me, I’ve heard some wild tales over the years. If it’s not criminal or unethical, you’ll get no judgment from me.”
He lets out a breath and smiles. “Yeah, I’m not sure why I’m making this a big deal. It’s about Ashley . . .”
His use of her name hits me like a sucker punch. God, I hope this isn’t going where I think it’s going. I draw in a long breath, suppress all signs of the tension I’m feeling, and adopt a nonchalant façade. “What about her?”
“Well, I remember her saying that you were family friends, so I was wondering if you’d pass on my number to her?”
Yeah, it’s going where I thought it was going. You know, for a man who detests when his personal and work lives overlap, I sure do confront the issue at every turn. Now how to do I put this to minimize the awkwardness? As few words as possible seems about right. “Sorry, Gabe. Ashley’s seeing someone now.”
He jerks his head back. “Oh. Okay.” He laughs. “Well, maybe it won’t work out. A guy can always hope, right?”
Dammit. He won’t let the matter go unless I give him a reason to. I’m not looking forward to telling Carter I’m actually dating his sister, but there’s something satisfying about the prospect of acknowledging to Gabe that Ash is my girlfriend. The server arrives with the bill, and after glancing at the total, I hand him my credit card. When we’re alone again, I say, “Gabe, I’m the someone.”
He squints at me. “Sorry?”
“The someone Ashley’s dating. The someone is me.”
“Oh.” He stares at me a few seconds. “Ohhh, I get it.”
I fuss with my tie and loosen it. “It hasn’t been long, so yeah. That’s why . . .”
“Oh, yeah, no. I understand. Forget I said anything, okay?” He holds up his hands. “I’m no longer thinking about her in that way.”
Right. That’s not how a man’s mind works, but I’m not going to be unprofessional about it. This conversation itself is giving me hives. “It’s forgotten.”
The waiter returns with my card, and Gabe and I stand to leave. As he drops his napkin on the chair, he says, “Man, you’re Carter’s best friend and you’re dating his sister. He’s going to get all the great jobs, isn’t he?” He chuckles as he says this, but I don’t join in his laughter. Gabe and Carter aren’t in the same league, at least not yet. Still, it’s the first time a client has suggested that I give Carter special treatment, and although there’s no truth to the implication, I’m annoyed with myself that it’s even an issue.
I stop Gabe before he exits the dining room. “Look, I pride myself on being able to keep my personal life from affecting my work. You have nothing to worry about.”
Gabe claps my shoulder, his voice sure. “I was just joking. I’m not worried, man.”
That makes sense, I suppose. Because I’ll be doing enough worrying for the both of us.
MY CONDO IS dark and eerily quiet when I walk through the door. It’s not like I was expecting balloons and confetti, but I was selfishly imagining that she’d rush into the room and throw herself at me.
I stride through the hall and peek into Ashley’s room. Her carry-on sits untouched on the floor, and her bed is still made. Maybe she stepped out to the store. Loosening my tie as I step into my bedroom, I drop my jaw when I see Ashley in my bed. Holy hell. She’s naked—and blindfolded. I close and open my eyes to be sure I’m not imagining the exquisite vision before me. Nope. Still there. Still rocking my world.
I slip my tie off, ease out of my suit jacket, and approach the bed in stealth mode. “Welcome home, Ash.”
She doesn’t respond, and then I notice the slow rise of her chest. As I move into the room, her faint snoring grows louder. I press a fist against my mouth to stem my laughter. And then I realize the insanely fortuitous opportunity at hand.
I make quick work of unbuttoning my shirt and toss it behind me as I kick off my shoes. The socks must go, too, because it’s a personal rule of mine, a response to the trauma of watching pornos as a teen. But that’s all the time I’ll spare, because I’m eager to nestle between her legs and make her come.
Like a tiger approaching its prey, I climb onto the bed and watch her reaction. She stretches awake, her back arching off the mattress, and my gaze roams over her naked skin, taking in the sight of her breasts. If I’m not mistaken, her dusky nipples are speaking to me. Julian, suck us, they say.
“Julian?” she asks.
“It’s me.”
“Sorry I fell asleep. I had big plans.”
She rocks her hips, redirecting my attention to the lower half of her body.
“Don’t worry about it,” I whisper. “This is perfect.” I slide a hand between her legs and caress her calves. “Open up, baby.”
She scoots back and spreads her legs wide, giving me ample room to settle in.
I kiss her thigh before tapping it. “I want to bury my face in your pussy and make you come. Would you like that?”
She sighs. “Not really, no.” After a few seconds, she laughs. “I’m kidding. I’d like nothing more than for you to show me your best impression of an ostrich.”
I shake my head at that one, unable to suppress my grin. “Place those gorgeous legs on my shoulders, then.”
“So bossy,” she says.
“And yet you’re doing as I say. I wonder why.”
“Yeah. I know not to bite the mouth that eats me.”
My forehead falls to her thigh as I laugh. This woman. “Okay, no more jokes from you. I’ve got serious business to attend to.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“That’s going to make it hard for me to execute my plans.”
Her laughter shakes the mattress. “Not those lips, silly.” After a pause, she says in a softer voice, “I’m proud of you, though. Your developing sense of humor is going to add years to your life. They say—”
“Ash.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
“Well, damn. If you weren’t about to go down on me, I’d—” She lets out a long moan, and then she sucks in a shuddering breath. “Oh fuck. Julian, yes.”
That’s more like it.