Over Exposed (27 page)

Sebastian's expression turned amused. “Seriously? That's what you're worried about? Alright, first off, you liked it, so there's nothing to be worried about. If you didn't like it but were going to do it again because he wanted you to, then I'd say you had a problem. And second, why would that be such a bad thing? I mean, it was your first time, right? How would you even know if you didn't like it if you never tried it? Don't we all do things only because we love the person we do them with?”

Love the person.

Love Greg.

Did she love Greg?

No. No, no, no.

Good sex did not equal love. And even if she did, it wouldn't matter, would it? He'd be leaving, just as soon as he'd finished filming. He'd go back to Hollywood and she'd get over him.

She'd have to. Greg wasn't the kind of guy who stuck around or did meaningful relationships.

Hell, he'd been engaged for nearly five years to a woman he still claimed to love and, even though they'd broken up, he'd cast her as the lead in his film.

And he'd just let Sebastian watch them have sex. The man wasn't possessive.

She figured a man who loved a woman wouldn't want to share her in any way with anyone else.

“Hey, Bree. What'd I say that made you go off into lala land?”

She blinked as Sebastian used the nickname only Greg had ever called her. It sounded wrong coming out of Sebastian's mouth.

And that was . . . disturbing.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Way more than she'd bargained for.

“Sabrina?”

She should leave. She
needed
to leave. Her brain was telling her she needed to go now, before . . .

Her stomach churned at the thought that she'd never see him again. Never be able to touch him, kiss him, hold him. Never make love with him again.

“Hey.” Sebastian sounded worried now. “You look a little green around the gills.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just . . . All of a sudden I've got a splitting headache. It just crept up on me. I think I just need to go back to my room and lie down.”

“Shit, what the hell did I say?”

“Nothing. Really, Baz, it's not you. It's just . . . it's just a headache.”

She stood and so did he.

“Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” She didn't have to force a smile. “But thanks. Seriously, I'm fine. Just . . . maybe it's a little stress catching up. Greg's going to be working all night. I could use a night to catch up on my sleep.”

Going onto her tiptoes, she pressed a quick kiss to Sebastian's cheek. The guy looked so startled when she drew back, she had to smile.

“Night, Baz.”

She thought she might be able to sneak out without disrupting Greg, but his head popped up the second she walked out of the room.

“Hang tight a minute,” he said to his crew. “I'll be right back.”

They didn't outright stare as he walked to the door to intercept her but a few of them did glance at her with puzzled looks on their faces. As if they had no clue what he was doing with her.

Which was something she kept asking herself. What did Greg see when he looked at her? A woman he was having fun with for now?

“Hey, I'm really sorry about this. I didn't plan—”

She smiled. “I know. I realize you're busy, Greg. I've just got this headache that won't quit and I'm going to sleep it off.”

He leaned closer and, for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

She stiffened . . . and watched his eyes narrow as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He didn't come any closer.

“Everything okay?”

She couldn't help herself. She reached for his forearm, brushing her fingers against his skin. His gaze dropped to where she touched him then rose again to capture hers.

“Everything's fine. Call me tomorrow.”

He grimaced. “Totally fucked-up day tomorrow. When do you work?”

“Three to eleven. And I've got the seven-to-three shift Tuesday.”

“We've got a night shoot Tuesday. Wednesday? No, wait. I've got a meeting in New York Wednesday, might not be back 'til Thursday.” He'd said nothing to her about a meeting in New York. “What about Friday?”

“Overnight, eleven to seven.”

He grimaced. “I'm about ready to tell Tyler to just give you the rest of the month off.”

Blinking up at him, her mouth dropped open. “Greg—”

“Fuck.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “Sonuvabitch. Just forget I said that, alright? Put it down to frustration.”

Join the crowd.

She really wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders and kiss him until the tension left his body. Wanted to take him back to bed and make love to him until he only thought about her and left the stress behind.

Unfortunately, she knew that was never going to happen. This was his life. He wasn't going to change overnight. There would always be other demands on his time. More important demands on his time.

And no matter how much he might care for her, his company would come first. His films, his actors, his crew. They all held demands on his time that she never would.

Wow, feel sorry for yourself much? Grow up.

Yeah, maybe it was time to grow up. And cut her losses.

“Give me a call Saturday.” She tried out her smile again but his gaze narrowed even more. “We'll see what we can work out.”

“Hey, before you leave, I've been meaning to ask if you're planning to go to the New Year's Eve party.”

She nodded. “Annabelle and Kate practically made it mandatory. I work until eleven that night. I'll go after.”

She'd had the fleeting thought that maybe he'd ask her to go with him but as the date grew closer and he hadn't said anything, she'd thought maybe he planned to be gone by New Year's Eve.

And then she'd pushed that thought out of her mind because she didn't want to think about it.

“Good. I'll see you there. We'll be finished with filming and I've invited the cast and crew. But . . . I'm hoping to spend some time with you that night.”

One last hurrah before he left?

Her smile might've turned a little sharp. “Well, I'll be there. I'm sure we'll see each other.”

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he contemplated . . . what? “Yeah. I'm sure we will.”

Opening the door, she slipped through but, when she turned to say good-bye, he walked out after her. Shutting the door behind him, he caught her before she could make a clean getaway.

“What's going on?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

His arms crossed over his chest. “Bullshit. Just spill it, sweetheart.”

Oh, there was no way she was having this conversation in the hall. Or at this minute. “I'm tired, Greg. That's all. I just . . . need a decent night's sleep.”

He paused. “Okay. Then go back to your room, pack a bag, and spend the night with me. As a matter of fact, tomorrow, just move everything down here.”

Her brain stuttered to a stop as she stared up at him. Was he serious? And if he was, why was he doing this to her now? Because he'd somehow seen she was getting ready to shut him down? When he was going to leave in only a few weeks.

“And when you leave? What then?”

He didn't blink. “Come with me.”

Her lips parted but she quickly closed them because she had to think about a response. She didn't have to think that long. “What about my job?”

“Quit.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

And he was. She saw blazing sincerity in his eyes. He wanted her to throw away everything she'd worked for and be his fuck buddy.

Anger boiled in her gut with lightning-fast intensity. What kind of a bastard—

“Shit.
Shit.
” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I fucked that up completely, didn't I? I can see it on your face. Damn it, Bree—”

She held up one hand. “Greg, slow down. Just give me a minute to process.”

“I don't want you to have to process. I want you to say yes.” He took a deep breath. “I also realize I blindsided you and that wasn't my intent. Especially not now.”

She had no idea what to say, her emotions shifted like waves on a stormy sea. She couldn't honestly say she didn't want to do it. Which sucked. Absolutely sucked.

But what about her job? Her friends and all her family were here. He wanted her to leave everything and everyone and blindly follow him for an affair that would eventually end? And who got to say when it ended?

And who the hell are you and what happened to the person who knew exactly what she wanted in life and was making it happen? And what happens when he decides he's done with you? Where does that leave you?

Back where she'd started, only older and more pathetic.

“Why not now?” she finally managed to ask, almost afraid of the answer.

“Because there's so much going on right now that even I'm not sure which way's up.” After a few seconds, his expression cleared and he took a deep breath. “Look, take the night, think about what I said. And know that you're only the second woman I've ever asked to share my space. I know you have a lot more questions that we can't even get into right now. Take the night. Think about it. Hell, take the week because I may not get to see you until Friday. And think about this, too.”

He put his hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. His mouth opened over hers and she suddenly couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Could only be right here with him. Her arms wrapped around his waist as her head tilted to give him more access. He kissed her like he wanted to inhale her. To conquer her.

She responded with a rush of heat so strong, she couldn't help but moan. A second later, Greg had her plastered up against the wall, every ounce of his will in his kiss. His desire brushed against her skin like a physical caress. His mouth moved over hers without letting her up for air.

Spreading her hands across his back, she pressed him closer. He did what she wanted but only, she knew, because he wanted it, too.

His hips locked onto her lower body and he bent at the knees until his erection pressed against her mound. Moaning, she tilted up into him, pressing against him, an almost frantic sense of desire threatening her sanity.

God, what would she do when she couldn't kiss him like this? When she couldn't feel his body pressed against hers, the heat and hardness of his erection making her pussy clench in agony for it?

Rubbing against him, she thrilled to hear him groan, to feel one of his hands twine in her hair and hold her head at the angle he wanted it. His other hand locked onto her hip, his grip hard, almost too tight.

His.

Why did the thought make her shiver when she should be running the other way?

And what happens when he doesn't consider you his anymore? Because you know it'll happen. You know he's not always going to want you.

Still, his kiss almost tasted like he wanted her forever.

Fool.

Did she care?

She should. She knew she should, but when he kissed her, she lost herself.

Did he feel the same?

Lifting her hands, she sank her fingers into his hair. She loved the way his curls felt against her skin. Loved that he let her pull his head back, breaking the kiss so she could stare into his face.

A heavy flush rode his cheeks but his gaze was sharp.

“Tomorrow. Move in down here.”

She shouldn't want that so badly. “For how long?”

He shook his head. “For however long you want to stay.”

And what if she wanted to stay forever? What happened when he went back to Hollywood?

“I can't make that decision at the spur of the moment.”

“Yeah, you can. You just have to decide if you want to badly enough.” And on the heels of that, he sighed and grimaced. “I'm pushing. Again. That's really
not
how I intended to handle this. And I wasn't planning to
handle
this. Shit.”

He took a step back while she remained against the wall, trying to get her bearings. “Just tell me you'll think about it.”

She nodded.

He continued to stare, as if he could get her to comply by simply looking at her.

And man, did she want to.

Get a backbone, girl. Do you want to be like your mom, never happy unless she had a man in her life?

“I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Sleep tight, Bree.” That smile of his nearly ripped all her careful plans to shreds. “Dream about me.”

Turning on his heel, he went back into his suite. The door closed behind him with a click she barely heard.

Her mind raced, thoughts ping-ponging between wanting to walk back in there and telling him yes and running back to her room and texting him to say she never wanted to see him again.

Behind her, she heard the door open again. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against another onslaught.

But when she turned, she saw Trudeau, tablet computer in hand. Sabrina thought maybe it'd been surgically attached to her hand.

The other girl smiled at her but Sabrina saw the strain behind the smile.

“Hi. Sabrina, right?” Trudeau stepped forward, hand out. Sabrina took it automatically. “I don't know if you remember me. I'm Trudeau, Greg's assistant.”

“Of course. Can I help you with something?”

“Actually, Greg wants to know if you'll need help with anything. Which is his code for ‘Get this done.' So can I help you with anything?”

Confused, Sabrina frowned. “Anything meaning . . .”

“Well, I assume he means helping you move your belongings into his suite.”

She blinked. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. But the reason we work well together is that I anticipate what he wants. And he wants you to move in with him.”