Chapter 42
Forty-Two
S ybil
Another week to look forward to on Nantucket, except this time I’m going to be busy every day on set, filming late into the night, crashing at home in the small hours of the morning, and dragging myself out of bed the next day to do it all over again.
I can’t think of a better distraction.
“You’ve talked to your people, and they’re ready?” Ricki asks through the walkie-talkie on our private channel.
“They’re on their way to the pool now.”
After a pep-talk about having fun and showing off for the cameras, I follow the cast to the pool area, careful to keep away from the cameras.
They’re dressed to impress and ready to film the first group scene of the trip, which is an outdoor dinner on Perry’s gorgeous pool deck.
A glittering blue Nantucket sound is the backdrop.
Considering the drama brewing between pretty much everyone, this should be interesting.
Gloria is definitely getting the most camera time, but I don’t think she means to be.
She’s a huge personality, trying to get along with other big personalities…
and failing miserably. Case and point: last week she got into a screaming match with Audra Mason for reading Audra’s songwriting notebook to the camera without permission.
I slink to the side, finding shade under a willow tree as I watch the scene unfold from a distance.
Perry’s family home is one of the larger ones on the island, so it’s working out perfectly for our needs. We’ve set up the cast in the bedrooms on the main floor and crew headquarters upstairs. Ricki and Perry are also staying upstairs, and everyone else is staying at Cooper and Ethan’s place.
We’ve rented cars to bring people in and out when we’re not working, and because our crew is relatively small, we didn’t have to scramble to find extra accommodations. Money can only go so far on Nantucket when the entire island is booked during the busiest tourism week of the year.
We’ll be filming the Fourth of July episode here, and I can’t wait. The cast and crew are going to love the Nantucket Independence Day experience. It’s my favorite holiday for a reason—fireworks and barbecues and patriotic parades in the most cozy and gorgeous place in America.
A high-pitched voice catches my attention, and I frown. Benton is in trouble.
“Wait, you slept with her?” Gloria points at him accusingly.
He looks like a deer in the headlights but doesn’t deny anything.
Gloria flies up from the outdoor dining table, throwing her napkin on her untouched meal, and storms away from everyone like they’ve betrayed her in the worst way possible. She’s still managed to keep a full wineglass in her hand as she goes.
All eyes go to Benton as he chases after her. “Not for months, not since the show even started,” he says. “She’s just my friend.”
“She’s your producer!”
The blood drains from my face, and my skin prickles with the horror of what’s unfolding on camera , especially when Gloria catches sight of me and stomps in my direction. The cameras follow her until I’m in the shot.
I’m frozen in place, completely blindsided.
“Gloria,” I manage shakily. “It’s not what you think. We’re not like that. We haven’t been together in ages.”
Her eyes are pure rage. “I don’t know what’s worse… that you didn’t tell me you’d slept with him, or that you knew how much of a player he was, and you didn’t think to warn me.”
Ouch .
Gloria Ricci flings her wine toward me, the arc of red moving too fast for me to get out of the way. Wine drenches my vintage Gucci sundress from top to bottom.
Fuck!
She doesn’t even wait to see my reaction. She swivels to Benton and starts crying. “I trusted you, Benny. I thought I was the only girl.”
With a final dramatic wail, she runs inside, and the cameras pan to Benton.
He’s standing there, horrified and out of his depth. He’s used to sleeping around and not committing to one woman. With the way the romance with Gloria has unfolded for the cameras, he’s basically trapped in a relationship with a possessive woman.
He’d be an ass to lead her on, and yet he’s here for his reputation, for brand recognition, to make his manager and team happy, and further his career. I’m not about to let Gloria ruin that. He swears they talked off camera, and she knew they weren’t exclusive, and I promised to help him.
Right now? He’s got to help himself.
“Go to her,” I mouth, eyebrows shooting up, and thankfully, he takes off after her.
“Sorry about that.” Perry jogs over, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Go up to my room and find a change of clothes, but I gotta get in there.”
I bury the hurt prickling at the backs of my eyes. I get it; he needs to be where the action is, even if that action is them going into a room and closing the door while Benton tries to figure out how the hell to handle this woman.
I hurry to Perry’s room, take a quick shower, and slip into one of his long dress shirts, all the while my hands shake, and my breath comes in short little gasps. I need to calm down, determined that my personal life isn’t going to be televised. The network doesn’t have the right.
I find a belt to tie around the dress shirt, hoping it doesn’t look too bad. I don’t want to run all the way home to get changed and miss out on everything that’s happening downstairs, but I will be sending one of the set assistants off to dry cleaning, that’s for damn sure.
I’m pretty sure the Gucci is ruined.
I know it’s shallow to care so much about something as trivial as a dress, but I loved it, and vintage is irreplaceable.
Someone knocks on the door, and I open it while still toweling off my hair. Cooper greets me with that boyish grin.
“If you came here to say you told me so,” I grumble, wringing out my hair, “don’t bother. I already know.”
His smile twitches. “I would never say I told you so.”
“Liar.”
“I’m actually here to see if you’re okay. Anything I can do to help?”
I let him in, twisting my wet hair to the top of my head. I retrieve a hair tie from my bag and secure the messy bun, turning to find Cooper staring at me. There’s heat in his gaze I haven’t seen in a while. A shiver ripples up my spine.
“What?” I prod.
He clears his throat, brushing the tips of his fingers over the collar of the dress shirt. “This shirt looks good on you, Valentine. I just wish it wasn’t Perry’s shirt.”
“Why do you care?”
We’re standing too close, but not close enough. The shirt must have ridden up while I was putting my hair back. Did he get a look at my panties? Do I want him to see my panties?
“Because I wish it was my shirt.”
His voice I pure gravel.
Yes, I very much want him to see my panties.
“I wish it was your shirt, too,” I whisper, and his gaze darkens with desire.
“There are a few ways I can comfort you right now,” he offers. “I can give you a hug. That’s option one.”
“And option two?” I ask with a coy smile, suddenly feeling much better.
He turns around and closes the door, locking it, then turning back to face me. His hair has fallen across his forehead, looking like a tortured soul who needs me to save him from his misery. “Option two is whatever you want it to be.”
I pretend to think about it, but I already know my choice. “Option two.”
Before I can rationalize why this is a bad idea, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
He’s quick to respond, immediately returning the kiss with so much heat he might set me on fire.
Our mouths open to each other, tongues exploring, hands everywhere.
I moan, and his approving growl weakens my knees.
As if sensing I can hardly hold myself up, he grips the backs of my thighs and lifts me. His erection is hard against my core as I wrap my legs around him.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
Fuck is right——my pussy weeps for how long it’s been untouched by a man. And now to have this? To have him so close?
Glorious.
He pushes me against the door, and I faintly register the click of the lock.
My body rocks as he explores my mouth with his own, and when I think I can’t take anymore, and we need to move to the bed, he sets me down and kisses along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone.
A large steady hand grips my ass as he moves lower and lower, unbuttoning the shirt on his way down. Hungry kisses pattern my sternum, the smooth flesh beneath my bra, my soft belly, and farther until he’s on his knees. That can’t be easy with his prosthetic.
“Does that hurt?” I ask gently.
“No,” he growls. I’m not sure if I believe him, but then he breathes me in with a low rumble in the back of his throat, and I could choke with how needy I am for his mouth to keep going.
“Cooper,” I plead, voice husky and wanting. “Please.”
He peers up at me, those darks are bright with desire. “This is what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Say it. Tell me you want me to eat you out.”
“Please,” I beg, “eat me out.”
“Say my name.” That boyish smirk returns, and if I wasn’t so heated, I’d smack it off him. “Ask nicely.”
“Cooper, for the love of God, will you please eat my pussy?”
With a wicked grin, he pushes my panties to the side and presses his mouth to my clit. The sweep of pleasure is so instant that I cry out, arching against his tongue. He slides it up and down, putting exactly the right amount of force into his movements, and my knees nearly give out.
I sink into him, and he must sense my needs because he sits back long enough to shuck my panties, and then he’s there again. He takes my leg and places it over his shoulder. I can’t help but sink even farther.
“Ride me,” he commands before returning his expert tongue to my core.
He wraps one hand around my lower body to help me stay upright and the other slides to my ass, fingers digging into my flesh.
Then he moves two fingers into my pussy, hooking them perfectly, and I die on the spot. A primal need to be fucked by his mouth and his fingers and by him washes over me, and I buck against his face, the door rattling behind me.
He groans in pleasure, tongue lapping expertly against my bundle of nerves. A third finger pumps inside me, stretching me out, and I could cry at the perfect pain of it all.
No part of me wants to hold myself back or think too hard about this, so I don’t. I let myself have this one thing I’ve secretly coveted for years—I let myself have Cooper.
My best friend.
The one man I was never supposed to want.
And it’s fucking incredible.
It’s so good that I have to bite my fist to keep from moaning too loud.
Men have gone down on me before but never like this—never with so much animalistic need, never while I stand above them riding their face like a damn chair.
I love it.
Cooper loves it.
He’s a man unleashed, a mirror to my own need, grunting his approval and gaining satisfaction from my pleasure.
I could ride him forever, but my body has other ideas, the orgasm hitting me like a quick and powerful tidal wave.
Unstoppable.
Inevitable.
Perfect ecstasy crashes over my entire body, and I cry out, whimpering his name as I come. He doesn’t stop, drawing out the orgasm until there’s nothing left, until I’m a completely spent.
I fall to my knees, and he wraps me in his arms.
His erection is hard and ready underneath me, and I’m prepared to return the favor, but when I reach for him, he stops me, kissing me on the temple.
“Later,” he promises, and I don’t know how he can have such self-control right now. It truly defies reason. “We have to get back to work.”
Sure enough, someone knocks on the door, and Ricki’s annoyed voice calls out, “Get your asses down here. We’ve got a situation.”