Chapter Nineteen
WE WALK THE edge of Bruckheimer’s huge pool. I’m wearing Zach’s jacket, and he’s holding my hand tight in his. I feel like I’ve reclaimed a piece of myself that’s been lost to grief and guilt. Zachary makes me feel safe, spoken for. Like I belong to someone. Not his property, but like I’m under the umbrella of his care and consideration when I’ve been out in the rain for so long.
Ahead of us, a young, auburn-haired starlet, hardly more than twenty, stands at the periphery of a group of big-time Hollywood hitters. I recognize her as one of the costars of a recent ensemble piece. She’s not a household name yet, but the film was a huge step, and now she’s starring in the big period drama, Avignon, that I’m currently sewing for.
According to Zach, that makes her my co-worker, I think with a smile.
She wears an emerald green dress and is standing close enough to the edge of the pool that if this were a movie, I’d call it foreshadowing.
The actress glances around, unsure and nervous. Her gaze lands on Zach and her eyes widen, starstruck. She takes a stumbling step back and her heel catches on the lip of the pool.
Sure enough, in the next instant, her arms are pinwheeling as she teeters backwards. Zach makes a lunge to catch her but he’s too far away. The girl falls in with a splash.
A ripple of surprise and tittered laughter makes its way around the partygoers. The actress surfaces, mortified, tears of mascara streaming down her cheeks.
“Shit,” Zach mutters. Without wasting a second, he strips out of his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and jumps in the water.
I know immediately what he’s doing, and my stupid heart feels like it grows ten sizes bigger for this man. The water is shallow—Zach’s not saving the starlet but he’s saving the starlet . If there’s going to be embarrassment, he’s going to take as much as he can off her shoulders. Most of the crowd doesn’t realize she fell in by accident. Thanks to Zach, they might believe it’s all part of the fun. The actress has caught on too and now looks like she’s going to cry with gratitude.
Zach glances at me for reinforcement. “Care for a swim?”
I’m already stripping out of his jacket and kicking off my black heels. I take the plunge. The pool feels like bathwater in the warm April air. The starlet, Zach, and I circle each other, laughing, as other guests—seeing that the Zachary Butler has jumped in the pool—decide that’s what they should do too. A few join in, keeping their hair and cocktails above the surface. Several Instagram influencers strip down to their thong-and-bra underwear and climb into the hot tub. A trio of comedic actors do cannonballs as the rest of the guests smile and shrug and carry on. Soon enough, it’s a mini pool party; household staff are bringing around towels.
“I cannot believe that happened,” the actress says sheepishly and brushes auburn hair out of her eyes. “Hi, I’m Tessa Carlyle.”
“Zach Butler,” Zach says, as if he isn’t the most famous actor alive.
Tessa smiles uncertainly. “Um, I know?”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “He does that to everybody.”
She laughs—a release of tension. “No one here was ever going to take me seriously again. I think you saved my career tonight.”
“Nah.” Zach smiles. “I was about to push Rowan in, actually.”
I roll my eyes and give him a splash.
Tessa looks to me. “Are you in this business, too?”
“Costumes,” I say, and holy shit, that feels good. “I’m actually working on your current project, Avignon. ”
“Oh wow. That’s amazing. Avignon is a big break for me.” She crosses both fingers. “Will I be wearing your designs?”
“Oh no, I—”
“Tessa!”
A group of young actors are waving at her to join them. She turns back to us smiling shyly. “Thank you, both. I won’t forget your kindness.”
She makes her way to the other side of the pool, and Zach and I are alone at the edge.
“This wasn’t on my Bingo card,” Zach says, and then his eyes widen. “Oh, shit, your dress.”
“I’ll make another one. What you did for her…” I shake my head.
I want to throw my arms around him, but half of Hollywood is in this backyard. I lean in and kiss him softly on the cheek. When I pull back, his hazel eyes are dark, intent on mine, searching.
“Yes,” I say softly. “This is a moment.”
Zach’s smile is equal parts happy and heated with desire, the exact opposite of the expression he wore in that magazine three years ago.
He hauls himself out of the pool in a cascade of water, then helps pull me out. A member of the household staff is waiting to hand us two fluffy towels. Zach wraps mine around me, and I make a hood out of it. In a sea of luminaries, I’m a nobody; the chances of being recognized are zero, and I want to keep it that way.
We move through the house to the drive. The walk is a blur; my hand is in Zach’s as he leads us out, and my heart is crashing in my chest. I wait for the panic attack of guilt to swamp me, but there’s none.
Because I’m better. Zachary makes me better.
His car service is waiting—a huge, black Escalade.
“Chateau Marmont,” Zach tells the driver.
“Yes, sir.”
The driver opens the back door. I climb in, and Zach follows. A twinge of unease tries to make its way through the haze of dizzying want that enshrouds us both. I should ask him why he’s still at the hotel, but no sooner is the door shut than we’re reaching for each other. In the few seconds of dark, before the driver opens his door, Zach’s mouth finds mine and I can’t keep a moan from escaping.
His lips are warm and wet with chlorinated water, with his own clean taste beneath. He takes my mouth in deep sweeps of his tongue while my hands rake his hair that is thick and damp but so soft. His arms go around me, pulling me into him, pressing my small body to his tall one so that all I know or feel is him.
He’s all I want…
The car’s backseat is partitioned off from the driver but doesn’t allow for everything that I want. It’s too cramped and confined. As the Escalade takes us to the hotel, Zach pulls me onto his lap so that I straddle him. His hands are on my thighs, sliding up the curves of my ass, then higher to my back, over the damp material of my dress. Higher still while we kiss, his thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts.
I’m holding his face in both hands, his strong jaw in my palms, my fingers in his hair, kissing him with a reverence I haven’t felt in so long. Me for him and him for me. A kiss that is wild with pent-up energy but considerate too. It’s beautiful, this kiss, while below, I’m grinding myself against him, wanting his skin and the hard length of him that I can feel pressing against his pants.
When we come up for air, we’re at the Chateau. The driver opens the door, and we make our way down the path to the bungalow. Zach fumbles with the old-fashioned lock and key. It feels like an eternity before we’re inside, away from the prying eyes of the world, alone. Then he kisses me against the door, hands roaming. I shiver pleasantly at his touch, but he misinterprets it.
“You’re cold,” he says, and the memories of another night with another boy try to find me. I kiss Zach so there’re no more words to summon memories that will undo this happiness. I never want to stop kissing him.
We pull back after a minute, both of us breathing hard.
“This place is archaic,” he says. “The shower isn’t big enough for two.”
“You go first,” I say.
He starts to protest, but I don’t let him. “Zach. Hurry .”
He nods, his glance taking me in a final time before he disappears into the bathroom and takes the shortest shower known to man. When he comes out, he’s wearing flannel sleep pants and nothing else. His body is lean, sculpted masculine perfection, and a thrill dances along my skin at what that body is about to do to me.
“You don’t make it easy on a girl,” I say.
After extricating myself from a round of his kisses, I strip off my sodden dress and take my turn in the shower. His Oscar is on the back of the toilet, and I have another pang that he’s not supposed to be here, holed up. That’s what people like me do.
Zach’s left me a pair of pants and a T-shirt on the counter. The gesture swells my heart, though it’s cute he thinks I’m going to wear clothing tonight.
I take a shower, then wrap myself in a towel. Zach is in the living room, sitting on the couch.
“I think that shower could hold us both if we got creative.”
He doesn’t respond; his gaze roams over me and the cloth that is all that stands between him and what he wants.
“Come here,” he says, his voice rough and raw.
I obey and straddle him again, kiss him while he slowly tugs the towel off, savoring me as if I’m agift he’s unwrapping.He tosses it aside, his eyes drinking me in. Insecurities rise in me—my small breasts, pale skin—then evaporate under his worshipful gaze.
“Jesus,” he whispers. Because every emotion is reflected on his face, I see how badly he wants me. In his eyes, I’m beautiful.
I hold his jaw again. I can’t help it. I want him to feel cherished. To touch him softly, always with care, never violence. Never with anything but the respect and consideration he deserves.
He kisses me deeply—the most deeply intimate kiss of my life, giving me everything so that I can’t help but give him everything back. I’ve never been this naked before, body and spirit, and somehow, it’s okay.
Because this is right. Everything about this is right.
Our breaths come shorter, our kisses now shallow, sucking pulls and nipping teeth. I feel him beneath me, his erection huge and hard. I slip onto the floor on my knees, my hands on the waistband of his pants, tugging. He shakes his head and pulls me back to him.
“I want to,” I say.
“And I appreciate the offer,” Zach says, “but I need to be inside you right now.”
His honest need is shocking to me. Everything about him is shocking—that he can be this full of raw animal desire and completely attentive at the same time.
Zach stands and brings me to my feet. We make our way, stumbling, staggering, kissing, into the bedroom. I lie back on the bed and take him with me. His weight on me is a perfect heaviness of masculine beauty. My hands trace the lines of his abs, his pecs, up to the lines of his shoulders. Every muscle honed to flawlessness so that he is beautiful for the world. Right now, he’s beautiful just for me.
He takes off his pants and desire rushes through me, hot as fire and stealing my breath to see there’s no part of his body that isn’t magnificent. He reaches for a condom in the nightstand drawer, then he’s poised over me, then lowering down, then sinking into me. I let out a little cry, a sound I know I’ve never made in my life: pure surrender.
Zach is braced on his forearms, moving in me with a look of pained ecstasy, his brows knit, his lush mouth drawn in a grimace of restrained need. I wrap my legs around his slim waist, locking him to me. He goes slow. Agonizingly slow, his hips rising and falling, his hard length sliding in and out of me with ease because I’ve never wanted a man so badly in my life. My hands slide down the smooth skin of his back, feeling the ribbons of muscle coil and uncoil beneath my touch.
“Please, Zach,” I beg in his ear, whispering hotly. “Please.”
He moves faster, his hips pistoning now, and the power of those muscles is all for me. The masculine perfection of his body works over me and in me to bring me closer to the edge. He hooks a forearm under my knee, changing the angle of his thrusts, and I cry out as he hits that spot deep inside me again and again. The heavy pressure builds until it breaks and then I’m flooded with ecstasy. Every muscle in my body tenses, and a cry rises behind my teeth. I’m wrapped around him like a starfish, legs and arms, one hand in his hair.
Zach makes a sound deep in his chest and I know he’s close. I push him back enough to see his face, to kiss him, to tell him yes. Yes to everything that he can give me and do to me. He pushes up on his hands, his hips thrusting a perfect rhythm until it’s broken by his own orgasm that shudders through him. The look on his face…it’s an expression I’ve never seen from him on film or TV or even in that cabin in Alaska. This release is real and it’s all for me.
I gave that to him , I think with a strange pride, and then I’m pulling him back to me and kissing him. His heavy frame slumps against me and I hold him there, unwilling to let go.
And this feeling…I’m not willing to let go of that either.