It only lasted a moment: a firm brush of his soft lips. However, in the split second before he pulled away, he gently pulled her lower lip between his teeth in a small but unmistakable bite, sending another bolt of pleasure directly between her legs.
Grey looked up at him, dazed, her face hot. He pressed his forehead to hers and murmured: “Let’s get out of here.”
She couldn’t do anything but nod. He moved his hand away from her hip and she felt regret at the sudden rush of cold air thattook its place. She expected him to take her hand in his, but instead he settled it at the small of her back. He started to guide her away before turning back to offer a curt “congratulations” to Mia.
As they swept out of the bar, the pressure of his hand sending tingles up her spine, a thought emerged in Grey’s mind with alarming clarity. She felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.
He wasn’t being difficult because he disliked her.
He was being difficult because he liked her a little too much.
OVER THE NEXT MONTH, THEYsettled into something resembling a routine. Once a week, they made a brief, cordial public appearance: hiking in the canyon, laughing over cold-pressed juices, browsing through the farmers market, sitting courtside at the Lakers. They showed up everywhere you’d expect the hottest Hollywood it-couple to be seen, taking pictures, signing autographs, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.
On the other contractually obligated nights, Grey would let herself into Ethan’s house. Most of the time, he would already be shut up in his office. Sometimes she’d leave the next morning without seeing him at all. Against all odds, however, she’d started feeling more at home there. She passed the time reading, working on her screenplay, watching movies on his extremely complicated television whose operation she hadalmostmastered, or creating her ownChoppedchallenges out of the bizarre combinations of ingredients she dug out of his fridge and pantry.
They rarely spoke when not in public, their initial overturestoward friendship mutually abandoned; and when they did, it was bland small talk. They never brought up the kiss. After they’d left the premiere party and gotten back into the car, Ethan had immediately slouched against the window in the back seat, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge her. Now, however, his evasion didn’t rankle her the way it had at the beginning. Instead, it sent a smug little thrill through her every time she heard his footsteps in the hallway, the doors to his office and his bedroom opening and shutting, like she was being haunted by the Ghost of Sexual Frustration Past.
He was avoiding her because he wanted her.
Sure, he wasn’t handling it in the most mature way, but he was a celebrity. Everyone knew celebrities’ development permanently arrested at the age they became famous. Given the degree and longevity of his fame, she was just grateful he wasn’t pulling her hair and pushing her down in the sandbox.
Actually, minus the sandbox, that didn’t sound so bad.
But what, really, was the alternative? Their arrangement would be over in a few months. The thought of this turning into a real relationship was laughable. As much as she hated to admit it to the starry-eyed thirteen-year-old who still dwelled somewhere inside her, she couldn’t ignore the mounting evidence that Ethan Atkins was a self-centered, self-loathing, emotionally stunted alcoholic. Nothing good could come of acting on their attraction. Besides, the majority of the allure was surely wrapped up in the tension, in the heated, forbidden glances, in the knowledge that nothing could—or should—ever happen between them. As long as he was steering clear of her because he was afraid of the temptation she offered, and not because he found her completely revolting, she didn’t care if he never spoke a word to her in private again. Really, she didn’t. It was easier this way.
That didn’t stop her from replaying the kiss over and over inher mind, though. It had quickly replaced her Oscar acceptance speech as her fantasy of choice as she drifted off to sleep. In her version, instead of quickly releasing her, he would pull her into his arms, deepening the kiss, fulfilling the promise of those hungry looks he gave her when he thought she wasn’t looking. He would cup her ass and lift her onto one of the tables like she weighed nothing, and she would wrap her legs around him, grinding into the hard heat of his arousal. The neckline of her jumpsuit had been cut low enough that she’d had to go braless that night. It would have been so easy for him to slip his hand inside and free her breast, dipping his mouth down to cover the nipple already hard and aching for his touch.
“We shouldn’t…everyone’s watching…” she’d gasp.
He’d bring his face back up to meet hers, grasping her jaw with both hands, plunging his bourbon-soaked tongue back into her mouth with such force that she would feel it in her toes.
“I don’t fucking care,” he’d growl. “Let them watch. I need you. Now.”
She had already burned through two sets of batteries in her vibrator in the last two weeks. What she really needed was to get laid, preferably by someone who wasn’t terrified of what would happen if he spent more than five minutes alone with her. Other than a mediocre one-night stand nearly two years ago in a drunken attempt at a rebound, there’d been no one since Callum. Unfortunately, that desire carried a million-dollar price tag. Replacing the batteries was cheaper—for now.
—
ONE MORNING, ABOUTa month and a half into their arrangement, Grey was scrounging through Ethan’s barer-than-usual fridge trying to decide if she’d have better luck attempting an omelet or a smoothie for breakfast. Ethan’s front door slammed open,surprising Grey so much that she almost dropped the jar of expired cocktail onions she was holding.
The intruder—a tall, gangly man who appeared to be in his early twenties—looked startled, too, but quickly regained his composure. “Oh. Hi. Sorry, I didn’t think—you must be Grey.”
He walked into the kitchen, placing the two overflowing reusable grocery bags on the island. He extended his hand to her. “I’m Lucas.”
Grey raised her eyebrows, reaching her hand out to shake his. “Lucas! Nice to finally meet you outside of my phone.”
Lucas grinned, beginning to unpack the bags. Grey went to help him, pulling out a loaf of crusty sourdough and a tub of fancy herbed goat cheese. Her mouth started to water.
“Ethan prefers that I keep myself scarce. You know how he is.”
“Oh, I know. This place would fall apart without you, though.”
Lucas gave a deep curtsy, arms spread wide. Grey laughed and applauded obligingly. “Nice to be appreciated. Hold on, gotta make one more trip.”
He darted back out the front door and quickly returned, balancing several cases of beer in his arms.
“Guess it’s party time,” Grey muttered under her breath. Lucas shot her a quick look. She toyed with the idea of saying something to him, seeing how much he knew, what he thought. Her courage failed, and instead she asked: “So, how did you land this dream job?”
Lucas went back to unloading the rest of the groceries. “Good old-fashioned nepotism, actually. Ethan’s my uncle.”
