Page 29 of Princes of Hollywood

“I’m glad you applied for the job, little warrior.”

“Me too.” My voice sounds breathy.

His smile turns mischievous. “Change into something that will blow my mind for dinner.”

Chapter 8

Let’s Talk About Sex

GREER

I take the most heavenly shower of my life. Warm water throughout. A door that locks. Bottles of things that smell divine and feel silky against my skin. And the towel. It’s heated and so soft, I want to just go to dinner wearing this.

That would definitely make a statement I’m not ready to make. When I open the door to my bedroom, I’m not really surprised to find Roarke on my bed with the tablet. He’s barefoot, in just jeans. No shirt.

I’ve seen his body oiled down and gritted up for movies, but the real thing is so much better. He’s got pecs and abs and that pronounced V thing that makes me salivate. His jeans ride low on his hips. When he turns his head to look at me, those blue eyes are heated.

“I would have joined you, but the door was locked.” He makes a pouty face that makes me laugh. “That wasn’t very nice, poppet.”

“I’m not ready for communal showers.” I’m not sure I was ready for what happened in my old apartment either. I tighten the towel over my breasts and straighten the one on my head. Two! I have two towels! Both fluffy.

“That’s definitely going on your to-do list.” He taps on the tablet. “Communal showers.”

I shake my head and go to my dresser. The problem I have is what to wear. I don’t really own any blow an actor’s mind type clothes. I’m more of a what’s on sale at Old Navy type of gal, or hey, look what I found at the thrift store for one dollar, and look, it has pockets.

Roarke wolf whistles, and I check to make sure the back of my towel still covers me. Thankfully, it does.

“Those baggy clothes do not do you justice, poppet.” The bed sounds like he’s moving. Him touching me is a bad idea.

I turn with one hand out and the other on my towel. “Stop right there, Benji.”

He cocks an eyebrow and inches forward so he sits on the edge of the bed. “I let you get away with that in the car because you were driving. But those are tickling words.”

“Tickling?” We aren’t children.

I don’t have time to react before he’s in front of me. His hands hold my hips, burning me even through the thick towel.

“You move really quick.” The words slip out. My defenses refuse to cooperate. Mostly because I like when he touches me. My body goes all soft and willing every time he’s close.

He grins as he backs me against the wall. “I played sports in high school and college.”

My breathing quickens as he closes in on me, surrounding me with his intoxicating cologne. The memory of his hands and lips on me makes me weak with anticipation for whatever he’ll do to me.

“Now that I’ve got you here, I’m not sure I want to tickle you.” His voice is lower as his head dips toward mine.

“You don’t?” I feel like everything is hazy as I lick my suddenly dry lips.

“No, poppet, I don’t.” His mouth claims mine. He lifts me off my feet and presses me against the wall as he explores my mouth with his tongue and lips, devouring every inch of me.

I can’t do anything but hold on, one hand on my towel and the other on him as he thoroughly kisses me. No one’s kissed me the way he does.

“For fuck’s sake, Roarke, put the poor woman down.” Wyatt’s voice penetrates the desire fogging up my brain. “She’s been here one day. She hasn’t signed an NDA. Give the woman some space before she goes to the press and tells them how much of a hound dog you really are.”

Laughing, Roarke presses his forehead to mine and shakes his head.

“I’m the best kind of hound dog, poppet.” After sneaking another quick kiss, he lowers me to my feet and turns to face Wyatt. I lean against the wall, letting my knees figure out how to hold me again.

“And what were you doing walking into her bedroom without knocking?” Roarke wiggles his brows at me before giving Wyatt a seriously offended face. “She might have been changing.”

---