Chapter Two
Wylder
Horny.
For two weeks, I’ve lived in a perpetual state of horniness.
And some depression.
Okay. As much as I hate myself for it, a lot of depression, but what can I say? The man I continually fantasize about, dream about, and want to have sex with again—and again and then some—more than anything I’ve ever wanted, happens to be an asshole.
A cheating asshole.
He’s also a famous director.
Super famous.
He’s funny, like really sarcastic, smart-as-shit funny. And he’s ridiculously generous, even with perfect strangers. And his body and face are hotter than sin, sexier than anyone I’ve ever laid eyes on. The best and only real lay of my life, and—
Oh. My. God.
He’s here.
Jamie Donovan is standing right across from me, and he looks as good as I remember. His tall, lean, muscular body is mouthwateringly yummy. His emerald-green eyes sparkle like bright gems out of his ruggedly handsome face. He looks too good to be true, and after denying myself of his deliciousness for just over two weeks, he’s like a much-needed, tall, cool glass of water.
More than that, Jamie Donovan is just what the doctor ordered.
My body is ready for sex in less than two point five seconds. I feel like I’m seeing an In-N-Out burger with fries after Kerri’s forced me to run the horribly painful Santa Monica stairs, and I have to say no.
I. Have. To. Say. No.
Why did I come back to this club again? Right. Kerri. My best friend, roommate, and co-worker all bundled up in one beautiful, albeit sometimes annoying, package.
She made me.
I admit she didn’t have to try too hard because I kind of wanted to come. Not to meet anyone else, as Kerri wished was the case—because I don’t know if I’m ready to go there yet—but to possibly run into Jamie. Yes, I was secretly hoping I’d see him here. You know, the kind of hope you have even though you know deep down inside there’s no way it could really happen because honestly, when does it ever, so it’s just this safe fantasy you play out in your head with different scenarios?
All my scenarios end in sex.
Dirty, hard, fast-and-furious sex.
Of course I didn’t actually think he’d be at the club. I really didn’t. And now, here he is, really truly here and not some figment of my horny imagination. He’s staring right at me. What the hell is he doing back here? I mean, there’s the obvious reason: he’s here to get laid. But after his sappy and nausea-inducing “I’m looking for a girl who rocks my world” speech tonight on the Craig Williamson show, you’d think he’d be at church.
P.S. I’ll never admit to anyone I watched his segment on my iPhone as soon as it went up on the network’s website, but I totally did. Three times. Back to back. No, I’m not some crazy stalker fan. I’m just… Well, now I’m just—
I’m pissed he’s here.
I have no right to be. Seriously. Like, no right. The logical side of my brain knows this, but the crazy side is definitely stronger in this situation.
But God does Jamie look good.
That’s the rub.
He’s so damn hot. Even the way he is now—dressed in worn, faded jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair messy and perfect, and those green eyes of his shooting daggers at me like he wants to kill me.
Like he wants to kill me.
Not that he has any ground to stand on, but I can’t say I’m surprised by the blatant hate radiating from his eyes. I did manage to get the upper hand, and he was the one who got dumped—not me. It’s not like we were in a serious relationship. We weren’t. We were testing the waters and dating. If I’m honest, it did feel like it was something else or it was going to be something more. At least to me it did. That’s right, call me Wylder Buchanan, the world’s biggest moron. I totally deserve it, and I’ll take it because I should know better, especially after the way I grew up.
That’s why when Tony told me about Jamie’s lunch rendezvous with Stacy, I acted swiftly and stealthily. Tony says I’m gangster. Who knows, maybe I am?
Even though the god-awful pain I felt from being used—and looking like a complete asshole—was almost unbearable, I managed to pick myself up, pack a bag, and get the hell out of Dodge. I charged money I didn’t have on my credit card and checked into the Sunset Marquis. I splurged because it was my birthday, and let’s be honest, it turned out to be a pretty shitty one, so I let myself have it.
Once settled in, I texted Kerri and filled her in on the situation. She met me at the hotel in no time. She then proceeded to order up a storm, all of which she charged to her father’s credit card. It was the night I learned that sometimes a really rich friend can make you feel better in ways you didn’t know possible, like book an in-room massage for me, have an entire to-die-for meal delivered from Craig’s, then have a cart of ice-cream sundae assortments brought up by hotel staff and watch me binge eat and drink myself into a food- and alcohol-induced sleep with nonjudgmental eyes.
If you ask me, that’s a pretty perfect friend.
When I woke in the morning, hungover and completely wrecked, Kerri let me in on the big secret: Jamie had requested I get two vacation days from the studio so he could surprise me and take me away. He’d even gone to my boss for permission. I could have been even angrier with him for being so presumptuous, but then I didn’t have to worry about going into work and facing anyone, so I was actually grateful.
Hearing what his plans had been for me only made the situation even worse. It made me feel sicker than I already did. If Jamie had taken me to Cabo, I would have been done for. I know it. I’ve never experienced the level of attention or pampering Jamie kept showering me with, and coupled with his personality, or what I had believed his personality to be, it would totally have been game over.
I’d have become Jamie Donovan’s bitch.
Hook, line, and sinker.
I also probably wouldn’t have found out about Stacy, or anyone else for that matter, until I was firmly trapped in his deceitful web. My fate would have been dismal. Basically, I’d be my mom, part deux.
No thank you.
And now this: Jamie fucking Donovan less than ten feet away.
God, it’s hot in here.
I break Jamie’s primal gaze and ask the guy—I can’t even remember his name—if he would go get me a bottle of water. Thankfully, he’s more than willing. I wish Kerri were here, but she disappeared down some dark hall as soon as we arrived. I don’t know where she went, but from the look of excitement on her face, I know she was off to have some serious fun or trouble—the good kind. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look like that before, the entire time I’ve known her.
Lucky Kerri.
Since I can’t take the idea of Jamie being in my peripheral vision—I don’t need him in any part of my eyeline—I turn around and give him my back… and what I know is a good portion of naked legs and practically my whole ass. The dress Kerri made me wear is so damn short. If I bend over, my privates will be visible to the whole world. I only felt good about putting it on because I’ve lost some I’m-sad-about-my-love-life weight, the kind that comes back with a vengeance as soon as you get an appetite back and put a fry in your mouth, which I hope to have the desire to do soon.
I look through the crowd of people at the bar and see I Forget His Name flagging the bartender down for my water. I want nothing more than to leave the vicinity, to get away from Jamie’s view, but I don’t want to look weak, like I can’t handle seeing him. Like I can’t be a big girl. Though, I did send him a text this evening, telling him I’d talk to the press—like I’d seriously ever do—if he contacted me again. It wasn’t very mature of me, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
That’s the thing.
He hasn’t stopped trying to talk to me. I blocked his number. He called from others. He even showed up to the studio one day for a “meeting.” I don’t know if I really believe he had to come in because he pretty much calls all the shots on his movie. It didn’t matter though because Tony spotted him and warned me over text, so I was able to escape. He tried to reach out to Kerri. She told him to get lost, but it didn’t stop him.
He just kept texting and calling, wanting to know why. And I really don’t feel like I need to tell him, or to even talk it out. I grew up watching my father weasel his way out of too many indiscretions to count, while my mother became weaker each time.
Been there, done that.
I know it’s colder, brutal, but he deserves it.
And if there’s one thing I’m pretty damn good at, it’s freezing people out.
“Back for more?” Jamie’s sexy voice whispers through my hair as he leans into my body from behind, invading all my space. His hand cups my ass, his fingers lightly skimming the tops of the back of my naked thighs.
I almost fall over from shock, but he doesn’t let me.
His other arm slides around my waist, his hand moving to rest right under my breasts. My heart rate goes a mile a minute. I can’t even find words.
Or oxygen.
“Is he your appetizer this evening?” He sounds angry and unpredictable. And for some inexplicable reason, it turns me on.
I tell myself he’s still an asshole.
He’s thrown my own words back at me. I’m just having many appetizers before the main course. I told him something along those lines the first night we met when he asked me why I had been at the club. What a load of crap that was. He’s the only meal I crave right now.
And I have to get as far away from him as possible.
I push myself away from his embrace and spin around to stare up at him. This might be a bad decision on my part. Now I have to see his rugged, gorgeous face up close and personal. He looks tense and powerful as fuck—a lethal combination.
Why does he have to be so yummy?
“What he is or is not is absolutely none of your business.” I try to sound as apathetic as possible.
“So formal.” Jamie folds his arms and stares down at me with an indecipherable look on his face. “Let me guess, you’re back to calling me Mr. Donovan.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mutter.
“I might prefer the formality,” he says sharply.
“Then to your face, I’ll call you Mr. Donovan.” My voice is cold.
“And I’m assuming behind my back you’ll have a much more colorful name for me?”
I shake my head. “No, it’ll be simple.”
Jamie cocks a brow.
I smile widely. “Just asshole.”
Jamie’s lips twitch, and I have the distinct feeling he’s trying hard not to laugh at me. I don’t know why he would find what I said funny, considering he’s the one I’m insulting.
The guy returns with the water bottle. I totally forgot about him, but I’m grateful he’s back. Before I can take the water, Jamie inserts himself.
“If you don’t mind, the lady and I need to speak privately.” Jamie’s stance is aggressive and territorial.
The guy looks over at me and shakes his head. “I kind of do. I’ve got first dibs.”
It takes me a second to process what he said. “Dibs?” I ask in disgust.
The guy shrugs.
“I’m not some car you get to take for—” I stop myself. “Okay, that’s the wrong analogy for where we are, but you know what I mean.”
“Baby, I think it’s the perfect analogy,” the guy says as he creepily checks me out. “You’re a fine-ass Ferrari I’d love to take for more than a few rides around the block.”
That really comes out of his mouth. Seriously.
At first, I’m speechless. Then I wonder if I should be mad or offended. I realize I’m neither and then…
I can’t help but laugh. He looks dumbfounded, like he has no clue how lame his words were. I wish I could look at Jamie’s face to see what he’s thinking. I’m pretty sure it’s similar to what I am, but he’s now suspiciously quiet.
I decide to break the news to Don Juan.
“Just so you know, that was the cheesiest pickup line I’ve actually heard out in public and not in some bad romantic comedy,” I tell him, fighting back laughter.
He looks baffled. I feel like he might be the kind of guy who just never gets it.
“Seriously,” I say, hoping to dissuade him from repeating something so lame to a woman again. “I wouldn’t ever use that line, like ever, ever again.”
I cushion the blow with a sweet smile before taking the bottle out of his hand.
“Thank you for the water,” I say.
I take that moment to turn and walk away, letting him stand there still a bit dumbfounded until the next woman comes along. I’m pretty sure he’ll try the same line—or another gem he’s got tucked away—on his next target. With my grand departure, I’ve also walked away from Jamie.
I have absolutely no desire to have a private talk with the cheater.
More importantly, if I’m caught alone with him in a room, who knows what will—
Jamie’s strong arm encircles my waist, pulls me up against his side, and the next thing I know, a bouncer opens some private door I didn’t even see. Jamie pulls us both inside and shuts the door with his foot behind him. He sets me down once we’re in the center of the room, and I’m a good distance away from the door.
This room is different than the last one we were in.
It has a pool table, a bed, and a small, fully-stocked bar.
And now here we are. All alone. My heart stops.
I realize I need to get out of here like pronto, or I won’t be responsible for what might happen.
“Step aside from the door, Jamie,” I tell him since he’s backed up and planted himself in front of it like some kind of wall.
He cocks his head to the side, his look serious.
“I think I’d like to take the Ferrari for a spin.”
He did not.
I try my hardest not to laugh. I really do, but I can’t help it. We share a smile before Jamie’s demeanor suddenly changes, and he’s back to being aloof and slightly angry again.
“You should have seen the look on his face when you tried to give him advice.” He’s possibly angry. I definitely detect a hint of admonishment.
“I was just trying to help his game.” I wish I didn’t sound defensive. “And I don’t think you have anything to worry about. He’s not going to need therapy. I don’t think he even got it.”
“No, I don’t think he did either.” Jamie’s turbulent gaze pins mine. “But sometimes you gotta let things go.”
I start to feel a bit nervous. “You’re acting like I broke his heart or something.” I scoff, trying to let it go.
“Not his heart, Wylder.” Jamie intently watches my every move. “Maybe his ego, which can still hurt.”
His gaze flickers onto my face, the expression in his eyes aloof. There’s an uncomfortable silence between us, and the room is suddenly too small for the both of us.
“I’d like to leave now.” I try to keep my voice as calm as possible.
Jamie shakes his head. “Just because our sad friend out there has no game, doesn’t mean his idea has no merit.”
I swallow audibly. “The sad man out there has more of a chance taking me for a ride than you do.” I lie easily and mentally cringe at the thought.
Jamie cocks his head to the side, his face expressionless, and stares at me for what seems like an eternity.
“Is that so?” His voice sounds lethal.
“It’s so,” I reply quickly.
He watches me for another uncomfortable moment, and I lift my head up and try to stare him down. The look on his face gives nothing away, but for some reason I feel like he’s kind of laughing at me on the inside. I feel heat flush my cheeks, but I haughtily raise my chin even more.
He knows I’m lying. After a second, he gives me a wicked grin. “Challenge accepted.”
Oh, shit.
He starts to walk toward me with a purpose, one I will not be able to deny.
“Wait! No!” I say and back away from him. “This is not happening.”
“What’s not?” He cocks a brow.
I motion between him and me. “This.”
“Tsk, tsk, Wylder,” Jamie chastises. “You and I both know you’re already wet and ready for me. I bet your pussy is throbbing.”
“You conceited, self-absorbed jerk… How dare you?” I basically pant in outrage. “Who do you think you are?”
Oh. My. God.
He’s right! Like 100 percent right.
Jamie ignores my insults and glances past my shoulder. “I want you on the pool table.”
“What?” I practically gasp. I don’t think I’m getting any more oxygen. Seriously. I think all my bodily functions have stopped.
“I’m going to fuck you from behind.” Jamie says it like he’s discussing something as trivial as his vacation calendar.
Meanwhile, I’m throbbing and as wet as he thought I was, maybe even more, and all I want is his beautiful cock inside me—so deep it fills and completes me and makes me come again and again. Oh my God, I need to get home to my vibrator.
“First.”
My stomach drops.
He unbuttons his jeans, and I can see his impressive bulge teasing me to let it come out and play. I try not to lick my lips.
“So tell me, Wylder.” Jamie continues on in his casual manner. “Why did you ghost me the night of your birthday?”
“I’m not having this conversation.” I look around for my escape route.
“You are having this conversation,” Jamie warns, and his eyes darken into something raw and primal. “First you’re going to talk. Then we’re going to fuck. What happens after depends on what you’re about to say, but no matter what, even if we never see each other again in our lives after tonight, the fucking is happening. On the pool table. Just like I said.”
I have no saliva left in my mouth it’s so dry.
“Answer the question,” he commands.
“First if all, I don’t have to answer anything,” I try to keep my voice cool, even though I pretty much know it’s anything but. “Secondly, I don’t owe you an explanation. Thirdly—”
“I don’t give a damn what your thirdly lame-ass, kindergarten excuse is,” Jamie practically growls, interrupting me. “Start talking and acting like a grown-up. This is what they do, Wylder. Normal, adult people—they talk. They don’t run away like children and hide. They face their issues. They man up.”
I’m completely taken aback.
“Or woman up, in your case,” he says harshly.
Firstly, I don’t even have a thirdly to shout in his face if I wanted to. I only said it for dramatic effect. Secondly, and if I’m honest with myself, he might be right. Okay, fine. He’s right. The adult thing would be to discuss what happened. The immature thing is to turn and run.
Let’s be honest, adulthood blows.
Still… I’ve seen how this conversation plays out. I’ve lived it vicariously through my mom – and not in a good way. Jamie senses my hesitation.
“What are you so afraid of?” He lets out a breath like he’s genuinely surprised.
“I’m not afraid—” I can’t help my voice is defensive.
“Then where are you going?” He asks pointedly. “You’re running. Why won’t you talk to me?”
It’s the sound of his voice—it gets me. It’s real. He’s not pretending like my dad. I can hear the difference.
“All right.” I begin slowly, giving him what he’s dying to know. “You want me to woman up and tell you the truth?” I cross my arms and let my gaze flicker over his body.
“And then we’ll play.” Jamie’s voice is husky, his eyes bright with the promise of something sensual.
And naughty.