Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle (28 page)

Now it was my turn to show shock on my face. “You don’t go shopping? What’s the point in being a big TV star if you don’t get to shop and spend money on ridiculous things?”

“I don’t know,” he said, stooping down to pick up some flat stones for skipping.

He handed a stone to me and I chucked it, getting four good jumps. The sun was moving lower on the horizon, painting a gold streak across the lake.

His stone skipped so lightly, it seemed to disappear from sight without sinking.

“Crossed the lake with that one,” he said, beaming.

“You are the champion.”

He reached for my hand and gave it a proud squeeze, then we turned and headed back to the trailer.

“The Airstream’s design is based on aircraft wings.” He pointed his chin at the silver trailer, poised gracefully at the edge of the lake. “It’s designed for minimal wind resistance, so it hugs the highway, which makes it more stable and also lighter on gas.”

“Sounds like you’re in love with that trailer. How will you ever leave it after your movie finishes?”

“No need for heartbreak. I’ll take her with me.”

“The trailer’s yours?”

We’d just reached the barbecue, which was hot and ready to cook our steaks.

“Go ahead and have a look inside while I finish getting dinner ready.” His green eyes twinkled, and by the tone of his voice, I sensed the trailer meant a lot to him.

I backed toward the trailer. “Is it really yours or are you pulling my leg?

“All mine. And in case you’re wondering how big it is, I’ll tell you. It’s twenty-eight feet of
awesome
.”

“Wow, that’s big.” I kept walking backwards, unable to take my eyes off Dalton, his skin looking delicious and tanned against his bright white shirt.

“Not too big, though.”

“Of course.” I turned away, blushing. He sure had a way of flustering me with the most innocent-sounding lines. That had to be his acting talent at work.

I opened the screen door keeping the dragonflies out of the trailer, and stepped up into the silver bullet. CREAK went the Airstream.

My heart sped up and sweat beaded on my forehead.

Great. Just great.

I imagined the trailer rocking visibly as I walked to the front and the back, the whole thing swaying under my footsteps. My next steps were careful, my breath held. The Airstream seemed solid enough, past the first awful CREAK, but I had to be cautious.

I couldn’t tell how old the trailer was, but the interior looked new, custom, and expensive. To my right, the front of the trailer held a cozy seating banquette, upholstered in red fabric, and a pedestal table. The round table was already set for dinner for two, complete with fresh flowers—pink peonies the size of cabbages, not from the lakeside, but probably from a florist in town. That part of the trailer looked like a photo in a magazine, all pink and red and gorgeous. Here we were at the edge of a lake, and Dalton had asked me to dress casually, but I felt underdressed in my pink blouse and blue jeans.

Then again, maybe I was dressed perfectly. Maybe when we’re in situations that make us feel underdressed, there’s actually something else going on, but it’s easier to blame the clothes. Hadn't Dottie said something about that at her workshop?

“Just be yourself,” I whispered to myself. “Except be more fucking charming and not weird. And stop talking to yourself.”

The kitchenette looked like a regular nice kitchen with wood cabinets, but in miniature, with the cutest little round sink. Across from the counter and cupboards was more seating, and a built-in desk sized perfectly for a laptop.

Stepping carefully, so as not to rock the trailer off its axles and send myself rolling into the lake, I made my way back to peek at the tiny bathroom, which packed a lot of luxury into a gleaming white small space. In fact, if I’d been hired to write about this place for a fancy magazine, this is how I’d describe the washroom: packed with luxury, and nicer than most regular people’s homes, despite being a tenth the size.

I stepped back from the washroom and peeked into the back area, which you would call a bedroom, simply because it did contain a bed. This “room” was up on a raised platform, and the only way to enter was to crawl up on the bed. The mattress, covered in luxurious red-toned linens, ended about a foot short of either side of the platform, which was a wood surface, empty except for an alarm clock and small* stack of books.

*There were twelve books, which I consider a
small
stack.

I reached out and ran my hand over the crimson bedcover, which felt silky to the touch. If I did sleep with Dalton Deangelo, it would be right here, on these red sheets. I glanced up at the coved ceiling and gasped. A mirror!

I shuddered, because seeing that mirror changed absolutely everything. No longer was the Airstream a high-end camping trailer. Thanks to that sex-mirror, it was now a bordello on wheels, and I didn’t feel so great about being the next conquest.

“The mirror wasn’t my idea,” came a deep voice at the trailer’s doorway.

I turned on my heel to find Dalton’s tall, muscular frame blocking the only exit.

“What mirror?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Look up, over the bed. My designer came up with that. I’d been complaining that there was nowhere for a full-length mirror to check my clothes in, and she put that on the ceiling. I keep forgetting to have it taken down.”

He stepped into the trailer, the whole thing rocking gently under his footsteps, and set the fragrant cooked steaks on the round table at the front.

“I guess this is the part where we eat,” I said, stepping carefully over to the seating area to join him.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said. “Every time I see you, you’re more luminous.” His gaze moved down to my mouth. “Your lips leave me breathless.”

I picked up a napkin and pretended to fan myself. “Slow down, big fella, or you’ll make me too nervous to eat.”

“We could skip ahead to dessert.” He blinked innocently, fluttering thick, dark lashes at me.

“Skip ahead to dessert?” I asked innocently.

“Yes. I trust you like fresh panna cotta?”

My extremely helpful brain flashed a preview image of me licking panna cotta off Dalton’s chiseled chest. I crossed my legs and draped the napkin over my lap.

I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and I should have been hungry, but nerves had scrunched my stomach. Dalton put greens and fixings on my plate, and we started eating.

“Why an Airstream?” I asked between bites. “Did you go on a lot of camping trips with your family?”

“Not exactly. My family wasn’t the conventional type.”

“Are your parents also actors?”

He made a funny expression, as though we were enjoying a private joke.

“No, I stayed in this very trailer for another film I worked on about two years ago. It was a rental, and not in the best condition. At night, you could hear the vermin moving around in their home, inside the lower pan.”

I gulped and lifted my feet up reflexively, which made Dalton laugh.

“They’re gone now,” he said. “Along with the skeletons of the things they ate.”

“Wow. Some people have skeletons in their closets.”

He raised his eyebrows, grinning again. “They sure do.”

My brain flashed an image of me, screaming on the tile floor of a bathroom. “Some things are best left undisturbed,” I said, slicing into the seared steak. “So, you bought the trailer and restored it?”

“I had a company do the work. I wish I had the time to do things with my hands, but the show takes a lot of time and energy.”

I looked down at his hands, poised over his plate. “You have nice hands,” I said softly.

He set down his steak knife and reached over to wrap his hand around mine. Without looking away from my eyes, he steered my hand, along with the fork and a chunk of steak, toward his mouth. He slowly bit the meat off my tines and gave it a thoughtful chew. Still staring at me, his green eyes dark and moody, he said, “Tender enough for you?”

“Very tender,” I whispered.

“Why aren’t we drinking wine?”

I held still, my eyes held by his, my hand in his. “I don’t know. Is there wine?”

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers. “Red, white, or pink?”

I giggled. “Pink?”

He looked down, breaking eye contact and letting out a nervous laugh. “Just kidding about the pink, but I do have red. It’s all the way over in the kitchen.”

“Oh. All the way over there?” It was all of four feet away in the Airstream trailer. “Do hurry back before I get lonely.”

He got up, ducking artfully to dodge the light fixture above the table.

“Do you know anything about wine?” he asked as he pulled the cork from a bottle.

“I usually just buy the mid-priced wine with the cutest animal on the label.”

He turned the label my way. “This one has a koala.”

“Oh, yes. That’s a very good one. I’ve had it before.”

He grinned, revealing his TV-perfect teeth and making me feel fun—more fun than I’d ever been.

“You look right at home in my Airstream.” He sat back down next to me on the banquette. “I might have to keep you.”

I brought the glass to my nose to smell the bouquet of the wine, rich and earthy. “You mean chain me up and keep me as your personal…” I took a sip. “Housekeeper?”

He stifled a laugh, his face red and his mouth full of wine. Fanning his face, he swallowed, then said, “I think your talents exceed mere housekeeping.”

“I also play the French horn.”

He snorted, his hand over his mouth. “New rule. You don’t say anything scandalous while I’m taking a sip.”

I batted my eyelashes. “Whatever do you mean? I really do play the French horn. It’s not a euphemism.”

He turned his head and gave me side-eye. “First your extensive wine knowledge, and now this. You were a band geek, weren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.” We both picked up our utensils again and started eating. I’d never felt such an unusual combination of being completely at ease with someone and also utterly nervous.

“What about you?” I asked. “What were you like in high school?”

“I know all actors are supposed to say they were total dorks in high school, to make them seem relatable, but before I dropped out, I was really popular.”

“No shit. With that face? I can’t believe it.”

He chuckled. “Back in ninth grade, I was the most popular guy in school, and I dated the most popular girl.” He looked me straight in the eyes. “And her best friend. At the same time.”

I picked up my wine and swirled it around in the glass. “You cad.”

“That’s a good word,” he said. “People don’t call each other cads nearly enough.”

I glanced at the door to the trailer, as did he.

“I was fifteen, and we didn’t do any more than kiss,” he said.

I crossed my arms and shrugged, acting cool.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

“To be completely honest with you, because I really like you.”

“I liked you a little more before I pictured you kissing two girls and breaking their hearts.”

“They’re fine, I’m sure.”

“What about that girl who was taking our picture? Alexis?”

“I never dated her. Not even one kiss. I swear.”

“Pinkie swear?”

He linked pinkie fingers with me. Even his pinkie finger was sexy. The heat from the wine spread through my belly and the rest of my body.

Keeping his finger wrapped around mine, he shifted his body closer to mine on the rounded banquette seat, so our knees and the sides of our legs were touching. The trailer felt warm. Very warm.

He murmured, “You’ve hardly touched your dinner. Was the marinade too salty?”

I stared at his lips, deep red from the wine and food. “Everything was perfect. I guess I wasn’t that hungry.”

He moved his free hand to the tops of my knees, then pushed his hand down between my legs, the heat of his palm radiating through my jeans.

My heart sped up, thrumming in my ears as he slid his hand up between my legs until he reached the center of me.

I gasped as he pressed against me through my jeans.

His voice thick with lust, he said, “I can’t stop thinking about the other night in the car. I should have laid you back on the seat, put your legs up on my shoulders, and pulled off your panties with my teeth.”

“Oh-my-goodness.” I reached for my glass of wine and tossed the rest of it back in one shot.

He leaned in and kissed my shoulder through my blouse, then moved up to my neck. His hot lips on my skin—on my pulse points—made my body go limp and my eyelashes flutter.

He slowly made his way to my mouth, where he nibbled my lips, both of us tasting of red wine. I parted my lips as he thrust his tongue hungrily into my mouth, while his hand pressed against my swelling pussy.

Yes, pussy.

Usually, I have
girl-parts
, or a
ladyflower
, or some other euphemism.

But as Dalton Deangelo thrust his hot tongue into my mouth and worked me through my jeans, I had a full-on, raging hot, swollen pussy.

And I wanted him inside me. Immediately.

He sensed my desire, perhaps due to the panting or the mewling sounds I was making, and started working the button and fly on my jeans.

How was I supposed to get my jeans off, with the table right there? He undid the jeans and slid his hand down the front, making skin-on-skin contact with his fingers on my pussy. I gasped and closed my eyes as his fingers slipped between those swollen furrows of flesh and nudged around my nub.

He nuzzled my cheek with his chin and kissed my eyelid. Pulling back, he gazed at me, his eyes gentle and warm. “Like this?” He curled his fingers and stroked my silky skin.

“Yes.”

“How about this?” He stroked his fingers more firmly, and pushed deeper, down where it was wetter.

“Wow.”

“I’m going to pull your jeans off, turn you sideways on these cushions, and put your legs over my shoulders.”

“Mmm.” Waves of pleasure radiated from his nimble fingers.

“Unless you want to… go for a walk around Dragonfly Lake?”

“Mmm.”