Anything.

Chapter Six

As he sat across from Reagan, Declan knew without a doubt he was in all sorts of trouble. Trouble with a capital T. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, going all warm and gooey inside—warm and gooey? What the ever loving fuck?—when she laughed. Going hard as steel when she reached out a foot and brushed it against his leg.

Her foot on his leg, that was all it took and he wanted her again. He wanted her always. He’d had her any which way since last night and it wasn’t enough. He told himself when she was in the shower he’d lay off. Give her a moment to recover and make her want him more. Make him want her more. Then what did he do?

The moment he saw her in that robe, her hair wet and slicked back, her skin rosy from the warm water, looking sexy and beautiful and fucking edible? He’d knelt before her like he worshiped her body and licked her into yet another orgasm. All while the room service kid waited in the hall to deliver their food.

He restrained himself during breakfast, letting her eat, and he tried his best to eat as well, but he quickly lost his appetite. His appetite for food, he should stress. Watching her as she nibbled on a strawberry, the robe gaping open and giving him a view of his favorite spot on her body, the rarely touched valley of soft, creamy skin between her full breasts, drove him wild with lust. He told himself to get over it.

That didn’t work out so well.

After they ate, he convinced her they needed a nap, so they went back to bed. Where they proceeded to go at each other like wild, crazed teenagers ruled by their hormones. Which he sort of felt like when he was alone with Reagan—ruled by his hormones, by his cock. Owned by his body and the ever-growing need to have her, to possess her, to make her his.

Mine. The word pounded an incessant beat in his head, in his blood, in his soul. Stupid. Crazy. He’d lusted for plenty of women and never went nuts like he did for Reagan. Though it was more than just her body that drove him insane. He also liked her. Liked talking to her, liked learning about her, liked when she offered her opinion. She was smart, she had personality, she had a mouth and wasn’t afraid to use it.

In so many different and exciting ways.

He caught a glimpse of skin and he was enthralled. He tasted her lips and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. And again. Until he was sliding deep inside her and she was gasping his name, clawing at his back like a wild thing incapable of speaking.

He could relate. He did relate. If she seemed lost, then so was he. Ten times worse.

She fell asleep soon after that particularly hot encounter after their late breakfast and so he held her in his arms and dozed, his hand on her hip like he owned her, her head resting on his shoulder and curvy body tucked close to his as if they were a perfect fit.

They sort of were. That should scare the hell out of him, right?

It didn’t. And that should scare the hell out of him even more.

They never left the hotel suite the entire day and he felt sort of bad about that, but she reassured him she was exactly where she wanted to be, so he didn’t push it. They got room service again for dinner—sushi this time, made by the world famous chef who worked at the Japanese restaurant located in the hotel. They devoured it, feeding each other with their chopsticks, drinking beer and laughing and talking about everything and nothing.

It felt good. It felt normal and so fucking right. He was relaxed. On top of the world. And when Reagan suggested they take a bath together in that giant sunken tub that sat in front of a wall of windows overlooking a most excellent view of the city, he jumped on it.

Naked in a tub full of hot water with the woman he was more and more insanely attracted to as every minute passed? Hell yes.

The water was full of bubbles from the fragrant bubble bath Reagan had liberally poured in when she first started to run the water, and she sank beneath them before he got a good look at that gorgeous naked body of hers. He followed after her, surprised at how comfortably they fit in the giant tub together. He was a solid six-foot and she wasn’t what he would call short.

Though he did enjoy the way their legs tangled together. Her skin was soft and slippery from the water, her foot sliding along his calf in a teasing manner that had every nerve inside his body finely tuned straight toward her.

“Feels good, huh?” She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, a smile of satisfaction curling her lush lips. Lips that were still swollen from his kisses since he flat out couldn’t keep his mouth off of her.

“Yeah, it does.” He lifted his foot and let it brush against her calf, which made her smile.

She glanced behind her toward the windows, studying the city spread out below. “Gorgeous night.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Beautiful view,” she added.

He never tore his gaze from her. “The best I’ve ever seen.” He’d used this line on her before, but hell, it was apt.

Reagan slid him a look, her lips curved in this sexy, closed-lipped smile that had his cock hard. She could glare at him and his cock would be hard. Didn’t matter. “You’re such a flatterer.”

“Just stating the truth.” Her hair was piled on top of her head, little wavy tendrils curling about her flushed cheeks. The foamy bubbles floated around her breasts, offering teasing glimpses, and he’d never seen her look better. All natural and beautiful and scrubbed clean. She was…

Perfect.

Would he ever tire of this particular view? Of this woman? It was probably too soon to say, but…he didn’t think so. And that realization hit him like a blow to his head, leaving his ears ringing and his brain awhirl with way too many possibilities.

Every one of those possibilities dealing with the woman sitting across from him, completely innocent to the turmoil going on in his head.

Not necessarily a bad turmoil, but definitely overwhelming.

What the hell are you doing, man? You don’t know this girl. You met her only twenty-four hours ago and you’re already thinking of forever and shit? This isn’t a movie. Not even a movie set, where you’ve made promises like this before with your leading actress, only to dump her on her ass when filming finished.

Right. He’d done that time and again. To the point where he had a reputation in Hollywood of becoming involved with his leading ladies and the last couple of actresses who worked with him right before he went to rehab were on guard from the moment filming started. Wary and throwing down the challenge from the very beginning. Back then, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one involving a woman.

They still fell for him. Every single time. It became his own personal challenge. A real shitty challenge, one he was ashamed to admit now, but he used to love getting a woman to fall head over heels for him. And then dumping her so fast her head would spin.

He didn’t want to do that anymore. He wanted a woman—Reagan—to fall for him simply for who he was, not because he convinced her to do it. Not because he was the big jackoff Hollywood actor. And Reagan, though she didn’t deny knowing who he was or the fact that she was a huge fan, did seem to really like him. He fucking loved that.

But what would happen when she found out the truth about how much of a dog he really used to be? The stories were out there. He’d been a legend, not the kind anyone could proudly claim, either. More like the embarrassing sort, the asshole out there fucking around with women’s bodies, minds and hearts, only to leave them pissed or worse, hurting.

Yeah, Reagan would be smart to run as fast and as far from him as she could.

“What’s got you so lost in thought?” She kicked her leg through the water, the bubbles bobbling with the movement just before she thrust her foot right between his legs. He grabbed her ankle just in time, curling his fingers around the bottom of her foot, tickling her heel and making her jerk against his hold.