“Shower?” I suggest against his lips.
“Definitely.”
The hot water feels incredible on my skin, but not as incredible as Brandon's hands roaming all over my body with the slick soap. When he presses me against the tile wall, I'm already ready for him again, and I can feel he's ready for me, too.
“I don't have any protection with me.”
“I have an IUD,” I say softly. “And I haven't been with anyone since my last test. What about you?”
“Clean bill of health, and it's been months for me.” His thumb traces across my wrist.
“I want to feel all of you,” I tell him.
He slides into me with a groan. “Fuck you are so tight, Stella.”
The pleasure is instant. I'm ready to explode. “Don't stop. Keep going.”
The angle is perfect, and he's hitting spots that make me see stars. We move together desperately, all the finesse from earlier replaced by raw need. When I come apart around him, he follows immediately, burying his face in my neck.
We dry each other off slowly, our hands lingering longer than necessary. When Brandon wraps the towel around my shoulders and pulls me against him, I can feel he's already getting hard again.
“Bed?” he murmurs against my ear.
I nod, and he lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me the few steps to his bedroom.
Later, wrapped in his arms with my head on his chest, it's like we've unleashed Pandora's box and I can say with confidence there is no way to put these feelings back into it. I think about how everything has changed. How I can't imagine going back to being just friends after this.
“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on my bare shoulder.
“How we're going to be exhausted tomorrow,” I say instead of the truth.
He laughs, and the sound rumbles through his chest. “Worth it.”
I'm drifting off when I feel him hardening against my hip again.
“Seriously?” I ask, but I'm already reaching for him.
“What can I say? You're addictive.”
Tomorrow, we'll figure out what this means, what we are to each other. Tonight, I just want to get lost in him again and again until the sun comes up.
thirty-three
. . .
Stella
The Tangerine Talentoffices hum with the kind of controlled chaos that makes my heart race in the best way. Phones ringing, assistants power walking past with coffee and contracts, the distant sound of agents negotiating seven-figure deals. This is my world, and after joining Blair to help her start her own agency, I've managed to work my way up to an agent. I finally feel like I belong here.
I'm reviewing notes for my next meeting when my assistant, Tatum, pops his head into my office. “Ava St. James is here.”
“Perfect. Send her in.”
Ava sweeps into my office like she's making an entrance at a premiere, which, knowing her, is exactly the effect she's going for. At forty-seven, she's still stunning in that timeless Hollywood way, all sharp cheekbones and perfect posture. She's also stubborn as hell and convinced that her Oscar win fifteen years ago should be enough to carry her career forever.
“Stella, darling,” she says, settling into the chair across from my desk with the kind of grace they don't teach anymore. “I've been thinking about our last conversation.”
“And?” I lean forward, trying to read her expression.
