I laugh because she sounds genuinely disappointed. I push away her fumbling hands when she starts working on the buttons again. Damn woman, why does she have to be so persistent?
“Climb in your bed, Summer. Come on.”
Sighing, she does that... without letting go of me. I lose my balance, barreling on top of her. My erection slams against her thigh.
She giggles, cupping my dick over the denim. “Mmm, is this for me? All for me?”
I try breathing in to regain control, but her smell invades my senses. The delicate perfume of her skin... mixed with the scent of her arousal. She’s wet for me. It takes everything I have not to lower my hand between us, work her clit, slide my fingers inside her. I wouldn’t stop there. I couldn’t.
“Don’t tempt me like this, sweet girl. You’re drunk.”
Another giggle. “Shh, I kn
ow.”
Levering myself on one arm, I lower the other between us, pushing her hand away from my dick. Big mistake. She uses my momentary distraction to plant kisses on my neck, and the tenderness in her gesture nearly shatters my resolve. I want to let this woman kiss me like that all over, and I want it more than I’ve wanted anything else.
Even though the studio would ruin me, even though I don’t want any Hollywood drama to touch Summer, I want her. I fist the sheet to keep myself from fisting her hair and pulling her into a kiss.
“Summer, stop.” She kisses my jawline, moving further down. When she lifts her hips, grinding against me, I nearly explode. “Please, stop.”
“Why?” she asks in a small voice, prying her lips away. I immediately pin her hands to the bed above her head, shifting my ankles so they’re on top of hers, immobilizing her. Every muscle in my body is wound tight. My control hangs on a very, very thin thread.
“Why are you shaking?” she whispers.
“Because you’re tempting the hell out of me, but you’re drunk, sweet girl.” I kiss her cheek, her temple. “I won’t take advantage of you. Not gonna join that list you have of assholes.”
She stills. “You really listen.”
I pull back, watching her straight in the eyes. We didn’t turn on any lights, but the moon is bright, and there’s enough light for me to see that even through the haze of alcohol, she understands what I’m saying.
“Will you let go of my hands and ankles now?” she whispers.
“If you promise to behave.”
She frowns. “Fine, I promise I’ll behave.”
I let go of her ankles first, then her wrists, then move down from the bed. Afterward, she shoves a pillow under her head, crouching on one side, bringing her knees to her chest.
“Thanks, Alex.”
The robe slides sideways, and I catch a glimpse of that perfect round ass before
pulling the cover over her, tucking it under her chin. She closes her eyes, and I sit on the edge of the bed until her breathing slows down and I know she’s asleep.
Then I back up, intending to leave when two stacks of magazines on the windowsill catch my attention. My face is on them. Why would she have a stack of them here? All still wrapped in plastic foil, unopened. I look closer on the small stamp on the plastic and recognize the name of the resort shop. I passed by it yesterday and today, checking the rack of magazines. I was so relieved they didn’t have anything about me. I couldn’t believe my luck when I didn’t see a single person holding a magazine with my face on it. Smiling, I look at the huddled figure under the covers. I wasn’t being lucky. Summer was looking out for me.
Pulse racing, I walk back to her, pushing down, down, down the impulse of taking her in my arms, telling her how much this means to me. So I just kiss her soft hair, then let myself out.
Chapter Twelve
Summer
“I’m going to die,” I mutter for the millionth time.
“No, you’re not.” Claudia pushes a glass of water toward me. “You just have a hangover. You need to hydrate.”
“I need to get out of here. The smell of food makes me sick.”