A Brand New Ending (Page 57)

“He ripped them away from me. Said there’d be no reminder of her any longer because she was dead. She was dead because of me. And then he burned them. I have only one picture of my mother that I was able to steal. I hid it under my pillow every night, terrified he’d take it from me.”

She stepped into his arms, offering him warmth and comfort. He took it. Buried his face in her hair and held her tight. The years ghosted away, and she was back to her real home—in his arms—where everything made sense and nothing else was needed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He trembled slightly, and she pressed kisses over his rough cheek, stroking the scruff hugging his jaw, offering comfort with her body and open heart. His lips found hers, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting sweetly inside her mouth. She arched up, going on tiptoes, trying to get closer to his warm, muscled strength. Then they both fell into the embrace in a slow, glorious, emotional slide of pleasure.

He lifted her, took her into her bedroom, laid her gently on the quilt, and tugged off her clothes with a quiet intensity. She ran her hands over his sleek, heated skin, pushed his jeans down over his hips so he lay bare to her touch.

Whispering her name like a prayer, his gaze delved deep into hers. He held her under his spell as he slowly pressed deep inside her. The stretching, glorious heat ripped a moan from her lips. She half closed her eyes, but he gripped her chin, forcing her to lift her lids, forcing her to share every iota of pleasure he wrung from her body.

The ride was slow and sweet, intense and wild, a crazed combination of soft and hard. The carnality of flesh slapping against flesh, the driving piston of his hips, the panting of breath against damp lips, the musky scent of sweat, sex, and spice lingering in the air. She twisted her fists in the sheet as her orgasm drew near, then shattered her. She refused to close her eyes and hide. She gave him what he’d always had.

Everything.

He came, spilling his seed, jerking helplessly as he gripped her with ferocious need. They fell back on the pillows, still entwined, the afternoon light streaming through the windows—adding to the decadence of their intimacy.

“Best vacation week ever,” he drawled, his arm splayed out by the headboard.

She laughed, stretching luxuriously in the tangle of damp sheets. “You still have to make your word count,” she pointed out.

“Tyrant.”

“How is the screenplay going?”

He propped himself up on his elbow and brushed the hair from her cheek. “It’s different from anything else I’ve tried to do,” he said. “Did I tell you I’m writing it as a novel first? I’ve never done that before, but it’s working well. I’m scared out of my mind, but I’ve never felt better about the work.”

“Is it—strange? Writing our story all over again?”

He traced the line of her cheek, his gaze tender. “Yes. And no. Allowing myself to remember the way we loved each other has given me hope. And by finally seeing the missing pieces from your point of view, I understand now how things went so wrong. How I got so caught up in myself that I had nothing left for you.”

She smiled and kissed his palm. “Do you have producers and a director attached to it yet?”

A flash of worry glinted in his eyes. “No. My agent is lining up a team who may be interested. It’ll be hard breaking out of the regular action stuff I’ve been typecast into, but my goal is to amaze them with the content so they decide it’s worth taking a chance on.”

“And if they don’t want to buy it?”

“They have to,” he said lightly, nibbling on her fingers. “I don’t have a plan B.”

She pondered his comment for a while. If she knew Hollywood, they didn’t like change, especially when an established formula was working.

“Don’t let them take away your belief in the story,” she finally said. “You have such emotional depth in your writing. I think you’re so much more than a car crash or bank robbery.”

“What about the hostage situation in Captured?”

“Even better than that.”

“Aliens?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Tell me you did not write a movie about a UFO invasion.”

“I didn’t. I was asked, but refused. I just couldn’t do War of the Worlds again, or Independence Day—no matter what the pay.”

“Good.” She kissed him and rolled out of bed. “I have a good hour of computer work, and then we can enjoy the evening. I’d suggest you get back to your writing.”

She grabbed her panties and added an oversize sweatshirt. Her jeans were nowhere to be found.

“How am I supposed to work when I know you’re strutting around like that?”

She threw him a cheeky smile. “Call it inspiration.”

“I think I need one more round.”

Her eyes widened at his impressive erection. “Are you trying to cripple me?”

“Just looking to be inspired by you.”

She laughed, backing out of the door with her hands up. “Down, boy. I have work to do and . . . No . . . Kyle!”

He leaped from the bed naked, catching her as she giggled, pressing her against the wall while his hands roamed freely. “Come on, baby. You did your job—I’m inspired!”

“What the hell are you doing with my sister?”

They froze. In pure horror, Ophelia stared at Ethan, framed in the doorway, with Mia behind him.

Holy shit.

Slowly, Kyle lowered her to the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to realize he was naked. He took a few steps behind her in an attempt to block the full view of his family jewels.

“Ethan, it’s not what you think. I need you to calm down before you lose your shit so I can explain,” Kyle said.

“Explain that you’re banging my sister?” Ethan practically whispered, body vibrating in fury. He took a step toward them. “Explain how I fought to let you stay here so you could betray my trust?”

Ophelia felt as if she were trapped, like her namesake, in some sort of Shakespearean play. She had to remind herself that who she took to bed wasn’t her brother’s business.

“Look, I appreciate the medieval-style protection and all, but Kyle hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m a full participant. How about I make a pot of coffee and we chat?”

Mia sensed disaster looming and quickly jumped in front of Ethan, babbling a mile a minute. “Babe, take a breath. I know it looks bad, but let’s just calm down and talk like adults, okay? Ophelia’s not in any trouble. Let them put some clothes on, and we’ll have some nice scones.”

“Sure, no problem.”

They all collectively released their breath.

Ethan grinned with a touch of evil. “After I beat the living shit out of him.”

It happened so fast, she had no way to stop it.

Ethan jumped right past her and threw Kyle against the wall. Mia yelled and darted after him, but Ophelia staved her off because her brother had her lover pinned with his hand over his neck.

“Don’t kill him!” Mia screamed.

“Dude, don’t you think this is a bit dramatic?” Kyle tried to reason, one hand protecting his penis. “Or, if you want a fair fight, let me put on some damn clothes.”

“You’re acting like an ass, Ethan,” Ophelia said, pushing at his body to get him off Kyle. “I am so pissed at you right now.”