Page 85 of Princes of Hollywood

I’m healthy and have a new outlook on life. Greer will be beside me all night. My marriage is over, but I have someone to look forward to.

Someone knocks on my bedroom door. The guys are trying to give me space now as opposed to the constant worry after I got out of rehab. The guys didn’t give me privacy because they couldn’t let me slip. Mason threatened to take my door off the hinges if I ever locked it.

The knock is nice and makes my chest swell a little. They’re starting to trust me again.

“Come in.”

Roarke opens the door and grins. He looks like a pirate from a romance novel cover. He has on leather pants and a billowy shirt that has more buttons undone than they did in the seventies.

“Fuck, Aiden, you look good enough to kiss.” He puckers his lips and starts for me.

“Fuck off, Roarke.” I shake my head because he’s tormenting me about my decision to not kiss Greer or fuck her for four months. I duck back into the bathroom.

“It’s just ridiculous when you consider you’re going to kiss someone on set at least once a week while filming.” Roarke sits on the edge of my bed and shakes his head. “That, and you’ve had your dick in her mouth.”

I make a noise to acknowledge I heard him, but the reality is I want her kiss too much. I want her too much. I don’t know if I’ll make it a week, let alone a month, but it’s just another test to make sure I’m not going to cave again.

“Next time she wants you to kiss her, let me know.” Roarke’s chuckle fills the room. “I’ll take your kisses and mine. She needs them.”

“At least I know she won’t be denied the pleasure, then.” I step out of the bathroom. “Time to go face the music.”

Roarke’s smile fades as he rises. “No one’s going to arrive for another hour. Fuck, I hate hosting.”

He’s right—no one shows up to the party at the time listed. But just in case some newbie doesn’t know the rules yet, we need to be ready.

I clap him on the shoulder as we walk out into the hallway and head downstairs. The chefs have been joined by a few servers in black slacks and white buttoned shirts. A woman server with her blond hair in a high ponytail tugs excitedly on the arm of the guy with his hair spiked as we walk across the floor. The dark-haired woman server stays in the back, doing whatever her job of the moment is.

Roarke gives the blond a cocky, encouraging smile, but I just ignore them as we sit down.

“Claire!” The woman chef stops and glares at the server.

The blond, whose brown eyes lit up at Roarke’s attention, turns and hurries into the kitchen.

“You going to turn that off?” I ask as we sit on the couch, gesturing to all of him.

Roarke grins. “Turn what off?”

“The flirting?” I lean forward and wait for him to join me. “What will your poppet think of you flirting with other women?”

He smiles. “She is mine, isn’t she?” He puffs his chest up like the rooster he is. “She’ll understand that I can’t turn off this kind of animal magnetism, but I won’t do anything about it. I’m saving all that for her.”

Sitting back, I shake my head. This is a disaster waiting to happen, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces of Greer when Hurricane Roarke moves on.

I’m curious how many other women Roarke will have to fawn over him this evening. He knows how to work a room and not commit to any woman but make every woman feel wanted.

Mason created the guest list, but that’s the way it always is. He brings the people who want to rub elbows with us, and we put on our dog and pony show, entertaining the guests with stories and anecdotes until the wine stops flowing. It’s networking in its rawest form.

And tonight Greer will be by my side. Fuck, I shouldn’t have touched her earlier. I don’t regret giving her an orgasm or watching her tip over the edge from my touch, but it will be that much harder to keep from pushing further. From doing it again, until all my control shatters and I’m buried deep inside her while she cries out my name.

“Can I get you a drink?” The blond, Claire, I think, gets my attention.

“Nothing for me, Claire.” My gaze falls on the stairs behind her, waiting for Greer to make an appearance.

Claire’s cheeks turn pink, and her attention moves to Roarke. “For you, sir?”

“Sir? Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am?” Roarke’s tone is teasing as he flashes her his award-winning smile.

The pink of her cheeks grows deeper. She stammers a little when she says, “Of course, Mr. Flynn. Can I bring you a drink?”

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