Chapter 14

14

" H e can't take his eyes off you for more than a minute or two," Loomis murmurs under his breath so no one else can hear as we dance to the light notes of Frank Sinatra. "They always drag back. I think I'll offer the poor bloke a smile and a wink to cheer him up. He looks miserable."

"Which one?" I find myself asking before I can stop it, only to follow that up with, "Never mind, don't tell me."

I don't want to know. It doesn't help anything. And likely, Loomis is just trying to get a rise out of me. He knew coming here tonight wasn't going to be easy, but Octavia called me herself and asked if I'd come, and she included Loomis in that. And since I absolutely adore that woman, there's very little I wouldn't do for her. Including seeing Stone and dealing with a drunk and angry Forest. I've never seen Forest that bad, though in the last few years, his mood swings are more noticeable. At least toward me.

I wasn't going to come. Forest and I haven't been on the best of terms lately, and I wasn't sure what seeing Stone would be like. Just knowing he's here makes my heart flutter and my stomach twist in anxious knots. I haven't seen him or spoken to him since he kissed me goodbye and I ran off his boat in dramatic fashion.

I've intentionally avoided him for two years but found myself seeking him out from the moment I stepped through the ballroom doors, just to get it over with. I ripped the Band-Aid off, and it hurt like hell as it tore at the scab it was covering. I smiled at him. He didn't smile back. And then Forest came over to me like a raging beast, making his displeasure at Loomis being here known.

Even when Stone stepped in and took care of it, he still barely acknowledged me, and it's a bit more than I can handle. I didn't expect fireworks or stolen kisses in a dark corner, but a hug and a hey, how are you , might have been nice.

"The older one," he tells me, purposefully ignoring my protest because that's how Loomis works. "The one you want watching you."

My eyes close. "I don't want him watching me."

"Liar."

"I don't. Not either of them," I tack on emphatically. "The less I have to do with those particular Fritz brothers, the better, as neither is good for my heart." It's the truth, and he can't argue it.

"Isn't that why you brought me? To keep the lions and the lovers at bay."

"I brought you because Octavia Abbott-Fritz called and told me I had to come and that she'd love for you to attend as well, and you do not turn down Octavia Abbott-Fritz."

"Certainly not with a name that proper."

"You're English. You practically invented proper names, Loomis ."

He chuckles. "Luv, I'm part posh and part London rubbish. I invented everything, and what I didn't, I stole. But you're dicking me around."

There are very few people in this world who know about my ten days with Stone, and Loomis is one of them. My parents are another two. Wren is the fourth because she's the sort who holds secrets and doesn't like to splash them about. When I got off the boat, I was an absolute mess—more so than I was when I first got on—and I needed girl talk. She's been my closest friend since we were in diapers, and she didn't disappoint.

"That's what she said."

"So you claim, but did you see those boys fighting over you?"

"Can you stop taunting me with this? I brought you because you're my boyfriend."

He laughs lightly, and I do too. Loomis isn't my boyfriend. He's my best friend and one of the few people in Hollywood I trust. We met during a screen test and had insane chemistry, though none of it is sexual. We've been inseparable since. We're dubbed the next George and Julia—thankfully, not the next Rose and Jack. It's why the media thinks we're together, and our agents, along with the studio of the next film we're about to start working on together here in Boston, have used it to their advantage.

We've come out and said we're just friends on numerous occasions, but no one ever believes that. They believe what they want to believe, and Loomis and I appear to be the perfect Hollywood couple. But the truth is, these last two years everything has changed for me, and though I can't control the media or how they get off on savagely stalking without remorse or consideration, I've learned how to navigate and balance work and life while putting myself first.

Loomis tugs me in a bit tighter. "Sorry, my darling," he drawls in his posh British accent that wins over all the rom-com audiences. "I don't know what to tell you. It's not a taunt if it's true. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. If it helps, the poor bloke isn't happy about it either. Look and see for yourself. The miserable chap is standing in the far corner in the dark. "

As if following Loomis's command, my head twists over my shoulder, and I immediately lock onto a pair of dark green eyes. My breath catches. Shit, he's intense. And ridiculously freaking hot in his all-black tuxedo. He's scowling, but there's something else to his eyes and expression. It's not displeasure or anger. It's scrutiny. Like he's not simply staring, he's watching with purpose.

I quickly turn back to Loomis, who smirks and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. "Perhaps he doesn't like that we're dancing. That my hands are on you when his can't be."

"Please stop."

"Shall I kiss you and really drive him mad?"

I stomp on his foot, and he bursts out laughing, taking my hand and twirling me out before spinning me back into him and then dramatically dipping me. We get a round of applause for it and that only drives the devil in him higher.

He rights me and gives me another spin, and as my eyes flash around, I can't help but give one more look only to find the place Stone had occupied empty. He's gone. I do a quick search, but I don't see him anywhere in the sea of people. My gut sinks, but I force myself to believe it's for the best.

It's not as if it matters anyway.

"Boston is bloody cold."

"It's October."

I get a hip bump. "You say that as if it explains why my nipples are freezing to my shirt."

I snicker. "You need to start getting used to it, gumdrop. And wear a coat. You're here over the winter filming a cuddly, spicy holiday movie that's set to come out next year. Guess what? It's cold here this time of year."

"I don't appreciate your negative disposition. "

"Me either. So how do we change that?"

"With sunshine and rainbows," Loomis sings at the top of his lungs, and I roll my eyes, even if there is no stopping my smile. He's drunk, and Loomis doesn't do drunk all that often. It's fun to watch when he does, though. So unlike Forest! The way Forest spoke to me still has me shaking.

Loomis had his driver drop us off on the corner since he's staying in a rental flat, as he calls it, five doors down from my parents' warehouse in the North End. Immediately following the party tonight, my parents hopped a flight to Europe, as my dad has a series of tour dates that couldn't be moved. They were in the works long before the movie picked Boston as its filming location.

Plus, he hasn't toured in years. My younger siblings, Astor and Zoella, are now in college and my parents can finally do it. They've sacrificed a lot for us, and I don't want them to sacrifice anymore.

"No. With moondrops and snowflakes," I toss back at him, and he twists to give me a befuddled look.

"What on fucking Earth are moondrops?"

"No clue. How's this? Raindrops and snowflakes," I sing in a light soprano.

"Brilliant. Even if you're horribly off-key."

I smack his arm, and it only makes him laugh harder. I've never been off-key a day in my life, and he knows it.

"You're sure you don't want me to stay with you now that you're all alone?" he asks, his brown eyes growing serious as he takes in the large brick structure before us. I get it. It looks haunted and intimidating.

"Positive," I tell him. "I grew up in this house."

"House?" he scoffs. "Luv, this is a ware house. Not quite the same thing. Besides, with everything going on right now between your ex and the media all over you, I don't like it." He turns to me and takes me by the shoulders, staring earnestly into my eyes. "I know you're Miss Independent, and I understand your reasons, but it's a big place to be alone."

"I'll set the alarm and snuggle into my childhood bed. Besides, there's a huge perimeter of cameras set up at all the exits, and the pool side is used for local boys' and girls' clubs, which means the locals protect it. If the press wants to hang around, they will, but they won't break in. No one can."

He twists his lips, trying to hide his displeasure. "If you say so. Still, I'm only a few buildings down and can be back here in under a minute if I run. Promise you'll ring if you need me."

"You're cute when you're overprotective, but I promise I'll call if I need you, though I'm positive I won't." I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck so I can hug him. "Tell me you're going straight home."

"I'm going straight home," he repeats but there is a twinkle in his eyes.

"Alone?"

"Swear on my grandmum's cold, dead heart." He holds his hand over his heart, his cheeks rosy, and along with his smile, there isn't much on him that isn't glowing. He's adorable. Too bad I'm not into him, and he's not into me. Otherwise, we would be perfect.

I punch in the code for the front door and then turn back to him, leaning against the wood. "You're good? Did you want to stay here because you're lonely?"

He rolls his eyes. "No. Absolutely not, and I'm rarely ever lonely. I was simply taking care of one of my two favorite ladies on this planet. I've grown especially fond of my space. I'll wake you tomorrow with breakfast and coffee. Get some sleep." He leans in and places a kiss on my cheek, and then he's gone, keeping his head down and his body naturally twisted toward the buildings as he walks a block up to his place .

I didn't notice any press lingering about, but that could change now that we attended the ball tonight. We had been keeping an insanely low profile over the last two days since we arrived in Boston.

I watch him go for a minute and then head inside, shutting the door behind me and falling against it with a heavy thud. A light on the second floor of the warehouse, which is the main living space, is on, and the dull, yellow glow filters and defuses down, trickling along the stairs as if to beckon me up.

I yawn and start to unzip my gown because this bitch is tight, when there's a pounding at my back.

"Loomis!" I screech, flipping around and unlocking the door in a start. "What did you—" My voice hurdles to a sharp standstill as I fling the door open and find Stone on the other side.

"You're not Loomis."

Stone's tux jacket is gone, leaving him in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his toned forearms, revealing his colorful ink. He's standing a solid three and a half feet away from the door. It's as if he pounded and then stepped back because he changed his mind and was ready to run for it instead. He looks hot and dangerous, and I hate how I notice both, but I do.

"He didn't come inside."

I blink, but a smile finds my lips when I catch his meaning, and I respond with, "Isn't that what you like to do?"

"Only with you."

Before I can think it through or question anything, I step out the door, grab him by the collar, and drag him inside. I tell myself I'm doing it in case there are paparazzi hanging about, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that's not why. The door slams behind him, and once again, I lock it up tight and set the alarm .

Then I shove him. Hard.

"You're too cool to say hi, let alone smile at me. Is that it?" I shove him again. I'm angry, but more than that, I'm riled up. He's here. I wish he weren't but the fact that he is makes me high and annoyingly giddy. It's fucked up, and it's so wrong. But I can already feel it. That undercurrent. That vibe thing we do. The we shouldn't but we want to.

It's still there, humming like a tired truck driver trying to stay awake.

It's been two years and I had convinced myself I was over it and over him. That I only clung as hard and fast as I did because of the emotional state I was already in. But considering how I felt when I saw him earlier tonight, especially when he stepped in and handled Forest, and how I want to tear his clothes from his body and climb him like the mast of his ship, I'm starting to question that.

Which I don't want to do. I was much happier in my other place.

So I shove him again. Because he's letting me, and if I don't, all my physical energy will go to something else.

"Hi," he deadpans, but I don't get a smile out of him. He's too busy waging an internal battle that's written all over his face. He shouldn't be here, and he knows it, but more than that, he's locked in the same paradox I am. Wanting to be here and not wanting to be here.

I roll my eyes and flip him off. He reaches out and captures my middle finger, holding it between us.

I squint accusingly. "I didn't give you permission to touch me."

He gives me the cockiest smirk I've ever seen. "Then tell me to go."

"What are you doing here?" I volley back instead, but he knows. I can see it all over him in the triumphant gleam he's now sporting. He knows I don't have it in me to tell him to leave. Not when I want him to stay as badly as I do.

"I had to know. That's what I'm doing here."

I shake my head, hating his half-assed explanation. "Know what?"

"Your boyfriend didn't come inside." He gives my finger a little tug, but I don't budge. I don't pull away either.

"So?"

"So if he were a date, he would have sealed the deal. He would have done whatever he could to get you to invite him in for the night, and if he were your actual boyfriend, he'd be staying with you and nowhere else. If you were mine, that's how it would be. There's no way I'd let you stay here alone without me."

"I'm not following, Stone, so how about you cut to the chase and go."

He takes a small step—hardly much of anything at all—but every move and shift he makes, I'm hyper-aware of.

"Do you often bring fake boyfriends to special events?"

Well, shit. I laugh. Kind of loud. "Honestly? Yes. If that guy is Loomis, I do. He's my award show buddy."

"Right. Your buddy . You're not trying to sell him as more?"

"I never said he was my boyfriend, fake or otherwise. It's you assholes who don't know how to read or believe printed statements."

I tear my finger from his grasp and turn off the alarm. I think I finally want him to go. I'm seriously angry for no reason other than he's challenging me when he doesn't have the right to. Loomis and I take it as a joke and run with it at this point. That's on the gossip rags and not us. Only, it felt safer when Stone believed Loomis was my boyfriend. Now I'm in dangerous territory, and I don't like it.

Stone crowds me, pressing my back into the door, and with his eyes locked on mine, he reaches beside me to punch back in the code he just saw me use to disarm it. My heart pounds, quickening my breaths and making my skin zip and zing with tension and feral energy. The speed at which my body betrays me and becomes his wanton creature seriously pisses me off.

"What more do you want? You got what you came for. Mystery solved. Loomis isn't my boyfriend, but I never said he was." I try to push him back so I can think clearly without him surrounding me, but he's not having it.

His hands plant into the door on either side of my head and he dips down, caging me in. "And yet, the world believes he is. I thought so too. For over a fucking year, I thought that." He shifts in closer until his hard body is practically flush with mine. My breath catches and holds in my lungs. "Until my grandmother planted a seed tonight and I stood back and watched it grow before my eyes."

"That's why you were watching me." I huff, feeling foolish for believing he had been watching me because he couldn't take his eyes off me, as Loomis claimed. Now I know the truth, and it stings more than I'd like it to. My hands are on his chest, which is so strong and warm beneath my palms and splayed-out fingers. And somehow, he moves in closer. So close my elbows bend and press into the door, and the toes of my expensive heels tap against his shoes.

"You have no idea, Tinsley. Fucking none." He leans in, our eyes locked in a duel both of us are determined to win. His lips ghost over mine, and I fight the urge to whimper. "Tell me I shouldn't bring you upstairs and spend the night making you scream for me."

"You shouldn't bring me upstairs," I whisper, and his expression shutters closed before I utter, "It's too far away."

We move at the same time, our lips colliding, fiery and furious, and yet the second it happens, we both groan in satisfaction. He lifts me off the floor in my gown, layers of stiff satin and sharp beads adjusted so I can wrap my thighs around his waist. My arms encircle his neck, and I grip his shoulders and the back of his hair while I hold on tight. My back slams back into the door, and we devour each other like we didn't think we'd ever get this again, and it's just as good as we remember.

Impatiently, he works his hand up under the layers of the gown until he finds my thigh, then slides it up to the edge of my panties. A finger slips beneath the thin satin and grazes my clit before he pushes it inside me. I moan, unable to stifle it.

"Fuck," he curses. "You're wet. Goddammit, Tinsley." His forehead mashes into mine, and he breathes harder than he was a moment ago. "What am I doing? I shouldn't fucking be here. I shouldn't fucking care."

I don't have an answer for that, especially as he starts to slide his finger in and out of me. I can't think about anything else when he does that.

"This doesn't mean shit," he snarls against me, nipping at my lips, my chin, and down my neck while he slowly works that finger like he's trying to punish me.

"Thank God for that." My hands drag through his hair, helping to guide his mouth along until he gets pissed and tears away to come back to my mouth. "I'd hate to think about you getting clingy."

His finger slips out, his body shaking against mine, and just when I think he's about to come to his senses and leave, his lips attack mine with renewed vigor. Plastering me against the door, he uses it as leverage to rip and tear at my dress with the hand he was just using on my pussy.

"I mean it, little Rose. It's just tonight. This is all sorts of bad."

"I already told you I was done being good," I pant against him, and that sets him off.

Somehow, I end up on my feet, and he's got two hands on my dress. The zipper is torn apart instead of unzipped. Beads and crystals shoot out in all directions, clanging to the floor. By the time he's done with it, I'm only wearing a strapless bra, a thong, and my heels, with my hair half hanging around my back and shoulders and my gown in tatters at my feet.

Stone steps back, his dark, hungry gaze feasting on me inch by inch. "Take your hair down and remove your bra but don't rush it. We've got all night, and I intend to use it."