The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(16)
Author: Alice Clayton

“And you walked across the entire lot like that?” he asked, his eyes everywhere, hands quickly to follow.

“Proving a point, but more to the point, what are you doing here? I didn’t think you were coming in till tomorrow?” I squealed as he pressed a kiss under my ear.

“They didn’t need me anymore, so I caught an earlier flight and headed straight here. If I’d known there were garters involved, I would have been here sooner.” He grinned appreciatively, snapping one and making me bounce a bit.

“And they just let you on set? Into my trailer?”

“Thank god all the PAs read People.” He laughed, leaning back to look at me. I blushed, reminded again of my state of undress. I took the opportunity to look at him as well. Christ, he looked good. Deeply tanned and his eyes were emerald green but darkening by the second. He still had the short hair, made even more blond by the sun. Beautiful.

I tried to think through all the implications of having him here, on set. Anyone could talk; anyone could sell this story to the tabloids.

Jack Hamilton meets Grace Sheridan on set of new TV show for a quickie . . .

He could see me overthinking it, knowing exactly what I was worrying about when I chewed my lip.

“Hey, Crazy. It’s okay. We’re adults, for Christ’s sake, they all know exactly what we’re doing in here.” He chuckled, his laughs dying down as his lips searched out my skin. I sighed without thinking, my hands coming up to his hair and tucking in.

“But what if someone talks? What if . . . Jesus that feels good.” I tried to focus my brain scrambling and coherent thought becoming more and more difficult. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the cast and crew, and while we were deliberate with our behavior in public, we were much less so in a professional setting like this. Just because we didn’t comment publicly, and allowed Holly to tell the press we were just friends, didn’t mean that we were not every bit a couple when alone or with people we knew. And I felt like I knew everyone on this set. However, it still made me feel exposed a bit. Speaking of feeling exposed . . .

“I just spent two weeks in the desert with a bunch of guys, and if I’m not inside you immediately, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do otherwise, you hear me?” he murmured into my ear, kissing and nipping at my shoulder, my collarbone, my jaw.

“Mother-of-pearl that’s good,” I moaned as he lifted me up onto the table.

“Please don’t talk like one of the Golden Girls right now; it might be the only thing that could stop me at this point,” he pleaded. Giggling, I wrapped my arms around him and gave in to what I was feeling, skin heating as his hands swept over me, taking in the black lace and sassiness. With a wicked grin he sent my panties sailing across the room, and I gasped as he dropped to his knees. Suddenly I was not so concerned with trailer rocking and the mocking that was sure to follow.

“I think you said I owed you five, right?” he asked, nibbling on the inside of my knee, pushing my legs farther apart.

“You can spread those out over time; they don’t have to all be at once—mmm.” I moaned as he pulled me into him. I had a brief insane image of the movie Jaws when the old guy goes sliding down the boat toward the awaiting shark teeth, but it was quickly thrown back out of my head at the sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between my legs.

“Brilliant,” he whispered, and bent his head to me. Lips, tongue, fingers, everything and all of it, focused and pointed, swirling and twirling, he loved me as only he could. Hooking my thighs over his shoulders, he surrounded me with a constant steady pressure, knowing inherently when to slow and when to speed, when to press and when to push. When my knees were shaking and my cries were stupid and love drunk, he rose quickly and let me unbutton his jeans.

“How do you want me, Crazy?”

“I want you; that’s about all I can tell you at this point, dealer’s choice.” I groaned, still dizzy from the three trips around the world he had already taken me on. I slipped my hands inside his jeans and grasped him, wanting and warm. I raised an eyebrow at what else I found, or rather didn’t find. “Good call on the commando, George.”

“I didn’t want to waste any time,” he insisted as I pulled him toward me with my legs, wrapping around and sliding against him.

“So this was just a booty call?” I asked in between kisses, hard and demanding.

“Hmm, lovely idea.” He pulled me off the table and spun me quickly. Placing my hands flat against the surface, he nudged my legs apart and pushed into me, hard. I hissed at the sensation, the good burn and the sweet tension.

“Christ, that’s good, love,” he groaned in my ear, seating himself fully inside as I arched back to meet him. Grabbing an equal handful of backside and breast, he rocked into me again, inexplicably deeper than before. I loved when he took control like this.

“You have no idea how sexy you look like this Grace, I thought about you all morning, thinking about that sweet . . . hot . . .” And that was it. I came again, hard and strong, rocking myself and very possibly the blessed trailer as I split apart, then floated back down. Back down where a very hot Brit was inside me and determined to make this last.

“Fuck, Grace,” he groaned, pulling my hair back so he could kiss me. Our bodies were flush, his front pressed to my back, lined up and locked down as he slid in and out, never relenting. He chased his own release, shuddering and shaking as his fingers circled down, lower and lower until he was teasing out another orgasm from me. This one left me boneless and shivering, insides aching and legs shaking as his eyes shut tight, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

“Garters . . . Christ, the garters are brilliant.”

God damn we rocked that trailer.

seven

Later we lay tangled on the bed, surrounded by wrappers. Hard candy wrappers. He lay on his back, his head propped up on my hip as I curled around him. I was moaning around a Werther’s caramel in a way that sounded particularly decadent, a way Jack was noticing even though he said he was “bloody well spent.” But for now, I sucked caramel only.

“Did you ever notice how if you breathe in while you’re sucking on one of these, you can actually taste the burnt sugar? And feel the butter on your tongue?”

“Gimme one.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. This is the first nongreen thing I’ve had in my mouth in weeks. Back off.” I growled, feeling his scruff scratch at my thigh. I trailed a hand down, and he leaned into it, letting me rub his head. “They buzzed you again, huh?”