The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(31)
Author: Alice Clayton

“Me too, love.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m too tired to know.” He laughed ruefully, looking down the hall toward our bedroom.

“How about you take a nice, hot shower, and I’ll heat something up for you. How does that sound?”

“Can you bring it to me in that red silky thing you wear for me sometimes?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.

“I thought you were tired?” I pushed back against his chest as he nuzzled into my hair.

“I’m never too tired for that, Crazy.” He pulled me close again and lifted me a few inches off the ground, swinging my legs around in a circle.

“Okay, you go shower. I’ll make you something to eat, then I’ll play dress up for you. How does that sound?” I teased, removing myself from his arms and starting for the kitchen. I turned to see him watching me walk away. Grinning big was his only answer as he headed the opposite way. I heard the shower turn on, and I smiled to myself as I fixed him a snack.

A little of this, a little of that, and then I slipped into his favorite red negligee, lacy and see-through in all the right places. I waited a few moments after I heard the shower turn off, then headed into the bedroom with a tray piled high with all of his favorites.

There, in our bed, Jack lay sideways, still in his towel, sound asleep. I set the tray down and sat next to him on the bed, trying to rouse him enough to have him turn the other way. He sighed in his sleep, turning on his side, reaching out for me and placing his head in my lap. With a small sigh escaping, he was back to sleep almost immediately.

I sat in my lace and peekaboo, running my fingertips across his face and down along his neck, through the closely cropped hair and across his eyelids.

My star needed some sleep.

A pair of solid hands pulled me backward, sliding me against a warm body. I shuddered a bit, sleep pushing from my eyes as I realized I was in our bed, with my Jack. My star was no longer sleeping. My star was on the prowl.

“Jack, you should sleep,” I protested, rolling over and raising up on one elbow, peering down at him. He ran his arm from my knee to my thigh, up and over my backside, plucking at the red lace he loved so. His hand was warm, and so was his smile.

“I slept,” he whispered,

“You still look tired.” I caught his roving hand and brought it to my lips for a kiss.

“What a nice thing to say. Do I get five orgasms now?”

“Funny.” I chuckled, relaxing into his side and tucking in, resting my head on his shoulder. I sighed, still sleepy but craving his skin.

“I could probably handle at least one, then a snack?” He pressed his lips against my forehead. I threw one leg over, sat up above him, and smiled.

“I can handle that.” I went to work.

A while later, I lay in our bed, snuggled on Jack. I wrapped around him like a blanket, still perched on top of him, legs and arms around him, my head tucked into his shoulder. His hands traced a path from my thigh to my backside, up to my shoulders, then pressed into each dent in my spine. They were hands no longer frantic and frenzied, now quiet and soothing.

“I missed you, Crazy,” he breathed into my hair, and I sighed, content with his hands on me.

“You have no idea,” I answered, kissing his ear, tickling with my lips until he laughed.

“How are things here going?” he asked, bringing his hands up to move my hair away from my face, his green eyes piercing even in the moonlight.

“Good. Busy, but good.”

“No, I mean, how are you doing with everything? You ready for tomorrow?”

“The junket?”

“The junket. You ready for that?” He sat up underneath me, my legs automatically going around his waist. He sat cross-legged with me on his lap, his strong hands dipping down to my backside and pulling me closer.

“I think so. I mean, Holly and I prepped and went over the likely questions, when to dodge and when to answer.” I nodded, feeling my tummy clench a little at the thought of facing the firing squad in less than twelve hours.

“I hear what you’re saying, but how are you really feeling?” he prodded, his hands moving under the red lace to be closer to me.

“I’m scared to death,” I admitted, throwing my arms around his neck and clutching him close. He chuckled into my hair, holding me tight.

“I know, sweet girl.” He got it.

“It just makes no sense. I haven’t even done anything yet, and they all want to know how I feel about being a fat actress in Hollywood, and how you’re dealing with my weight gain. How absurd! This makes no sense!” I spilled my secrets to the back of his head.

“None of it makes any sense. The sooner you get that, the easier it’ll be,” he said, pulling back just enough to kiss me soundly on the forehead.

“How are you dealing with Grace’s recent weight gain, Mr. Hamilton?” I asked, thrusting my thumb microphone into his face.

“Yes, well, it’s pretty tough to take. I suppose really the only thing to do is just grab a handful and go to town,” he answered deadpan, followed quickly by him actually grabbing a handful.

We wrestled on the bed, slapping and tickling. We finally came to rest somewhere near the headboard, Jack pinning me down and playing with my lace once more.

“You’re going to be great. You know that, right?” he said, breathing hard from our playful fighting. “Just be yourself. That’s who I love. They’ll love her too.”

“And when they ask me about dating you?”

“Tell them yes, tell them no, tell them to bugger off. I’m not the story. You’re the story. So tell it your own way, Nuts Girl.” He gave my bottom a slap. “Now where’s that snack? I’m starving.”

After a few minutes, I perched cross-legged in our bed and watched Jack slurp leftover sesame noodles and crunch through the egg rolls I had reheated for him. Naked, sheet tucked around his middle, he ate everything with gusto, telling me about the rest of the shoot and how much he’d enjoyed working on this project.

“I mean, what other job in the world would I, some wanker from London, get to fire off rounds from big giant guns and drive a tank—a sodding tank! Are there any more egg rolls?”

I chuckled as I went to the kitchen. It always made me laugh how the more excited he was about something, the thicker the accent got.

I set about heating up the rest of the egg rolls, toying with the idea of slicing up some fruit for him as well, when I heard his phone go off. It was on the counter. And he was in the other room. It was Adam calling. I debated whether I should take it to him or throw it out the window, but then I remembered that the windows were closed, and I didn’t want to replace anything right now, and that the mature thing to do would be to take the phone to Jack.