Remember When 3: The Finale (Remember Trilogy #3) (9 page)

Chapter 12

JUST LIKE HEAVEN

   We scheduled a late afternoon flight out to L.A., and I tried to forget how much I hated to fly. It truly scared the hell out of me, but I figured I’d better get used to a bi-coastal lifestyle. Flying first-class made it just a tad easier to change my opinion on airplanes, however. Actually, it made it
hugely
easier. I was pleasantly surprised to find that most of my aerophobia was caused by
claustro
phobia, and not so much the whole winging through the sky thing. I wished I had discovered first class years ago.

  
A few photographers were lurking at the gate, and got off a bunch of shots as Trip and I were getting off the plane. I was tired from the flight, but took Trip’s cue and smiled as we walked past briskly, but not rudely. It was strange to be smacked with his world within only the first few seconds of entering it. I was still getting used to the idea that he even lived like that, when
BAM!
Welcome to Hollywood.

  
I figured after six hours crammed onto an airplane, I probably didn’t look my best. I hoped the pictures were boring enough that they’d never turn up in some magazine or something. What was the story there? “Trip Wiley And Some Random Chick Get Off An Airplane”? Fascinating journalism, kids. I’ll be sure to frame your article and hang it on the wall next to my LIFE cover of the Kennedy assassination.

  
Stepping out of the airport was like stepping out onto a different planet. After suffering through yet another long winter in Jersey, arriving in Los Angeles was like going from black and white to full-on Technicolor. With the time change, it was still fairly light out, and I was so invigorated to see all the green of southern California.

  
Swimmin’ pools. Movie stars.
Beach Boys music piped in on every corner.

  
Not really, but it felt like it should have been.

  
Our driver pulled the towncar in front of the
Beverly Hills TRU
, parked in a spot reserved for registration, and I breathed a sigh of relief that we hadn’t been followed by any of those pesky photographers from the airport. As we got out, Trip asked, “Are you seriously planning on staying here?”

   It had been a much-discussed topic on the plane. Trip wanted me to stay at his house, but I insisted on staying at a hotel.
The whole week had been such a whirlwind and I wanted to give him time to get used to the idea that I’d be invading his life.

   We made our way through the lobby, and I swear
, every eye in the place turned our way. Trip pasted his movie-star-smile onto his face and ignored all of them, save for the concierge behind the desk who welcomed him by name. “Mr. Wiley. Welcome back. We were all very sorry to hear about your father. How did everything go back home?”

   Trip had turned into
him
by this time, so he was able to answer appropriately, “Thank you, Jim. Everything went very well. Of course we’re all saddened by the loss of a good man, and I’m sure the
TRU
won’t be the same without him. But I see everything’s in order here?”

   Jim puffed up a bit
with pride as he answered, “Of course, Mr. Wiley. Miss Wilmington is making sure of that.”

   When Mr. Wilmington’s health had
finally taken its ultimate turn for the worse, Claudia had stepped into his vacated role as Chairman of the Board. I thought it was more of a figurehead-type position—you know, keeping with the family name and all—but apparently, she was actively running the show. Good for her.

   Trip introduced me to Jim,
then checked me in under the name Mrs. Martin Bishop. Still with the freaking Redford characters. He smiled cheerfully at his name choice
,
but he wasn’t very happy about having to kiss me goodbye.
He pulled me behind a potted tree and planted his lips on mine. What started out as a simple goodbye kiss quickly picked up a bit of steam. I hoped none of the tourists in the lobby could see us, or worse, pull out their cameras and start snapping photos.

  
We were both a bit jetlagged from the flight, so while half of me wanted nothing more than to drag him upstairs with me, the other half just wanted to crash for the next twelve hours.

  
But there we were, right there in the lobby, our goodbye kiss turning heated.

  
Screw sleep. Some things were more important. I needed this man between my thighs more than sleep. More than food. More than
air
.

  
He slipped an arm around my waist and we followed the bellboy to the elevators along with the baggage cart that held all my stuff.
Once the doors closed, Trip didn’t waste any time. He slid a hand right down my spine, teasing his fingers under the waistband at the back of my jeans. I stood perfectly still, even though I wanted to slap his hand away.
I could’ve killed him for playing games with the bellboy right there in the cramped elevator. Either that, or jumped his bones.
I wasn’t sure which.
In any case, the ride to the penthouse took forever.

  
We were shown to our room, and Trip promptly tipped the bellboy. As soon as he was out the door, we started tearing at each other, our clothes strewn all over the floor. Trip shoved me onto the bed and pounced on top of me, kissing his way along every inch of my body.

   “No way, pal. It’s
my
turn,” I teased, as I rolled him to his back and straddled him, kissing his neck and running my hands along his smooth, hard chest.

  
The light from outside had started to dim, and I was reminded of a dream I once had, during a time when the mere thought of having this gorgeous man back in my life was an abstract idea at best. And yet, there he was,
right there
, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes closed, a contented smile pasted to his beautiful face, lying right there underneath my naked body, the reality far better than any dream could ever be.

  
I kissed him, brushing my mouth along those full, sensual lips of his, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his heart rushing under my palms. A possessiveness overtook me as I pushed back against his torso, trying to brand myself into his skin. I had waited for this, longer than any woman should have been asked to wait. And now, he was mine.

  
I earned him.  

  
Trip wasn’t feeling very patient at that moment either. He released his hands from behind his head and grasped my hips, pulling me toward him and spearing himself into my body. I gasped as I rocked against him, feeling the fullness of his hardened length plunging inside of me, claiming me as his own.

   He was smiling as he
had his way with me, his free hands running over every inch of exposed skin within his reach, his hips thrusting
to meet my movements, again and again and again, eventually causing the both of us to explode, leaving us sated and out of breath.

  
What is it about a hotel room that turns people into sex-crazed lunatics?

  
We settled into the heavenly mattress, our limbs tangled together under the bedsheets as I ran my hand along the soft skin on the inside of his arm. 

  
He was staring at me, his face half-buried in the pillow. “I can’t believe you’re really going to stay here. Isn’t there anything I can say to change your mind?”

  
My chest was still heaving as I tried to catch my breath. I nuzzled into his neck, shivering at the brush of stubble that tickled my lips. The truth was, all I really wanted was to curl up in that man’s bed and stay there forever. 

   I slowly pushed myself up and straddled his lap, peering down at him w
hile he offered me his most lethally persuasive glare with those potent blue eyes of his—eyes that I was virtually powerless to deny.

 
I shifted my attention to take in the room we had all but ignored in our frantic dance to make it to the bed.  

 
My jaw dropped.

   The room was ginormous.
That bedroom alone was probably two times larger than my entire apartment in the city, and decorated a hundred times better. The Wilmingtons’ Beverly Hills hotel was way more relaxed and inviting than their über-hip Times Square property. Less mod; more island. Rustic wood furnishings contrasted against pale cream walls with the perfect kisses of
Wilmington Blue
in the patterned fabric of the upholstered furniture, pillows, and curtains. Along one wall, floor to ceiling windows showcased the Los Angeles skyline at night, a breathtaking array of bright lights in darkened skyscrapers against an almost amethyst sky.

   I looked down at Trip
. “I’m in L.A.,” I said in awe.

  
He grinned cautiously and nodded. 

   I glanced back up, scanned the room again,
then collapsed on top of him. “Holy shit! I’m in L.A. I’m really here.”

 
Trip’s arms wrapped around me, his hands gently stroking up and down my back. His voice rumbled through his chest. “You’re where you’re supposed to be, Lay.”

   I buried my face in his chest and fought the wave of disbelief washing over me. “A week ago, I was Layla Warren, self-employed writer, living in her childhood
bedroom in Norman, New Jersey. You were nothing more than a late-night fantasy, and a crazy day was a visit from Lisa and the kids.”

   I rested
my chin on his chest and looked up at him. “Now I’m in the penthouse suite of the
Beverly Hills TRU
. Naked, mind you, in one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever felt, with one of the biggest movie stars the world has ever seen.”

  
I hesitated, mentally reminding myself of my new pledge to verbally vomit, then went for it. “
Also
one of the world’s biggest playboys.”

  
His mouth opened, then closed. I squeezed my eyes shut and burrowed into him, wishing I could ignore the insecurity I had thus far managed to keep at bay. 

   It was impossible to avoid the numerous reports about the many, many women who had been “guests” at his home over the years. Not to mention an ex-fiancée who had actually
lived
there. I could only assume that Trip had seen more action in that house than Hef did in the Playboy Mansion.

 
Okay, maybe not more than Hef. 

   It had better not be more than
Hef.

   His arms tightened, an
d he whispered against my hair. “You know they meant nothing to me.  You know I’ve spent the last fifteen years pining away for some infuriating chick I met back in high school.”

  I smiled slightly.
“But you were engaged. To a freaking
Victoria’s Secret Angel
, Trip.
She
had to mean something.”

   He pressed soft
kisses along my hair and jaw. “She was just a placeholder until you were finally able to figure out how awesome I was.”

  I sputtered out a
laugh, then slapped his chest. He grabbed my arm and slid his hand to my cheek, tilting my face to look at him. “She wasn’t you, Lay. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

   I stared into his blue eyes, taking in the devoti
on brimming from their depths. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded.

  He brus
hed a soft kiss against my lips, but I soon pulled away. “Give me a few days, okay? Let’s catch our breath. You’ve just come back from your father’s funeral. I’m twenty-five-hundred miles away from the only home I’ve ever known, with a man I never thought I’d ever see again. I just need a minute to wrap my head around all of this. A few days, and then I’ll gladly stay with you.”

  
He nodded, giving me a deep, toe-curling kiss to let me know he understood, no hard feelings. Then he shifted my body off of him and got out of the bed.

   “Hey!
That didn’t mean you had to leave
now
!”

  
A grin spread across his lips. “Yes, it does. Otherwise certain body parts are going to get way too happy to have a naked you against them, and then it will start all over again, and the next thing you know, it’s morning.”
He gestured below his waist to my favorite body part. Sure enough, it was waking up and taking notice.

 
I brazenly watched him pull on his jeans and yank his T-shirt over his head, shamelessly ogling what was finally mine to ogle. He smirked, then stalked to the bed and flattened me with another searing kiss.        

   I gasped for breath as he pulled away and said, “See you tomorrow, babe. This is good.
Now I have time to make sure there are no lingering thongs under my mattress.”

  
I shrieked and grabbed one of the dozens of pillows from behind my head, launching it at his retreating form.