He tucked the tip of himself inside her and brought her upper body toward him so their mouths were only separated by a few centimeters. “Come with me,” he said.
She nodded weakly and he plunged in. In, in, so far in. Sitting on top of him, straddling him like she was, she could feel him so entirely, feel him so deeply as he moved inside her. She moaned, already close to orgasm. She could go now, before he even pulled back out.
But he’d asked her to come with him and though she could probably come now and again with him, she accepted the challenge to wait. For all the time he’d spent waiting for her to get her shit together, she could wait for him this once.
Seth controlled the activity, even with Heather on top. He placed a strong hand on each side of her h*ps and brought her body up and down on his cock. She helped as much as she could, as much as he’d let her—pushing up with her thigh muscles which were already quivering from the effort it took to keep from releasing before he was ready.
He’d be there soon, she was certain. His tempo was at once brisk, his pelvis pumping into her at rapid fire, his expression strained with intense focus. It was hot and so erotic to be face to face with him, to watch him work so hard for this thing he desired—this thing that was her, this thing that would be shared just between them. The connection between them at that moment, it was nearly too much.
She was done for.
Her orgasm overtook her slowly, starting with the clenching of her thighs and ass, then spread down her legs like a gathering storm until it reached her feet. Then her toes were curling and she was screaming, screaming his name, falling limply into his arms.
And while she did, while her skin and bones disintegrated into a blaze of heat and combustion, Seth came with her. His moans became a poetic harmony to her screams, his taut muscles a perfect brace for her languid body, his touch a salve for her burning skin.
She recovered slowly, her head buried in his chest where the thud of his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing synchronized with her own. She felt unspoken words between them—things they both needed to say but seemed trite after the poignancy of what had already been said with their lips, their bodies.
I love you.
Those were her unspoken words. They were on the tip of her tongue, itching to be voiced, the only urge left in the wake of her post-orgasm. It wasn’t time yet, though. One more thing she had to do first—the interview. Then. Then she could move on. Then there would be time for all the I love yous.
Maybe even a lifetime of them.
Chapter Seventeen
He had to tell her. Today. Had to tell her that he wasn’t just a carpenter, that he’d reached the top of his career ladder. That he was a Production Designer, that he’d lied and tricked her. God, he was such an ass**le.
He should have told her last night, had tried to, but then gave in to her passion. Could anyone really blame him? Sex in his truck was hot.
Then after their tryst¸ he couldn’t find the words. He’d spent himself in her and he didn’t want to destroy the afterglow with his confession. He was filled with excuses, he heard them in his head and recognized them for what they were. No more of them. He’d tell her. As soon as he saw her again. Tell first, sex later. If there’d be sex after he told her remained to be seen.
No, he couldn’t think like that. She had to forgive him…right? He wished he could be sure.
He tossed and turned through the night, trying to decide what he’d say, how he’d explain his deceit. When the sun came up the next day, he still had nothing except bleary eyes from lack of sleep. Well, bleary eyes and a semi because he always had at least a semi when he thought about Heather.
He rolled out of bed early for a run, hoping it would focus his thoughts before he got ready to meet up with Heather. They had the day off from filming, but she had invited him to her house for her big Jenna Markham interview. Just thinking about the interview made his heart pound. She planned to tell Jenna about Seth—about her and Seth. Which was awesome and terrifying all at once. It was a lot—going to Heather’s house for the first time, announcing that they were an item, and on top of that, planning to drop the bomb that he’d lied to her for weeks. Not good timing. He should have told her earlier.
But he hadn’t.
Now he couldn’t wait. Once his name was out in the world, someone would discover his resume. That would definitely not be the best way for Heather to find out.
He had to be the one to tell her. Before the interview.
After a quick shower, he dressed in khaki slacks and a dark blue button down shirt, then downed two cups of coffee in succession before shooting Heather a text asking if he could come over early.
“Come now,” was her reply.
He dismissed the automatic “That’s what she said,” response, which he would have given if there wasn’t so much weighing on his mind, and sent, “On my way,” instead.
It wasn’t hard to find her house. He’d known where she lived for a while, even though he’d never been there. The drive was at least thirty minutes from his place in Hollywood Hills if he could manage to avoid traffic. Which he didn’t.
Almost an hour and a half later, Seth pulled into the drive outside her home. The house was ridiculous, especially for a woman living alone, though compared to the nearby Bel Air houses, Heather’s seemed fairly modest.
It took a lengthy self-pep-talk before Seth could get out of the truck. What the f**k was he pu**ying out about anyway? He’d done something shitty and now he needed to come clean. Take your lumps like a man, he said to himself. He’d do it as soon as he saw her. Do it quick like ripping off a band-aid.
After working through his hesitation, he headed up the front pathway and rang the bell. When the door opened, he expected to see Heather, or at the very least Lexie. Instead, he was greeted by a bald guy wearing a headset.
“Is Heather…around?” Seth knew he had the right house. He had to have a code to get past the front gate and the one she had given him had worked.
The bald guy creased his brows. “Yeah, is she expecting you?”
Fuck, he didn’t want to explain himself to some strange dude—a muscular Seal look-alike who’d answered his girlfriend’s door, no less.
But Seth decided not to let himself get all prickly. He obviously had no idea what the situation was.
Teeth gritted, he forced a smile and held out his hand in greeting. “She is expecting me. Seth Rafferty.”
Seal ignored Seth’s outstretched hand and pushed a button on his headset. “Seth Rafferty’s at the door.” He paused. “Yep.” He turned back to Seth. “You’re cool.”