Star Struck (Lights, Camera #2) by Laurelin Paige-bilion (Page 16)

Star Struck (Lights, Camera #2)(16)
Author: Laurelin Paige

He patted her face. “Heather?”

She opened her eyes. “What happened? Where are we?”

“You passed out. We’re at your room.” He should leave her there at the door, but he found himself saying, “I’m going to help you inside. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

She had wakened enough to stand but still needed support walking. He led her through the suite to her bed and sat her on the edge.

“Are you good?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her in a sitting position.

“Yeah, I think so.” She looked up at him with a smile that made his pants feel tighter.

Christ. What was he doing here?

“Let me help you with your shoes.” Not a good move. But he bent down, ignoring the sway of the room as he did, and unbuckled her strappy sandal. He slid her dainty foot out of one shoe then repeated the process on her other foot. He kept his face down, aware that if he met her eyes, she’d see the effect the intimate act had on him. Seriously, he wanted to do some pretty kinky things to those lovely feet. It took a shit load of strength to not suck on each pink-tipped toe.

His hand dallied on her ankle, as he indulged in the feel of her silky skin.

“Thank you, Seth.”

He looked up now, the sound of his name on her tongue causing his chest to squeeze all the air out of his lungs. With great effort he stood. He wasn’t sure she was ready to be left alone—or, rather, that he was ready to leave her alone—but he realized a quick escape was essential. Though he couldn’t just dump her and leave, could he?

Yeah, he could. He should.

Except he found himself asking, “Would you like me to get you a bottled water before I leave? I can grab one from the mini-bar.”

“That would be nice. Thanks.”

After assuring she was okay on her own, he left her bedroom and returned to the outer room of the suite. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. God, what had he gotten himself into?

Nothing, he’d gotten himself into nothing. He was merely helping a pretty lady who needed help.

Yeah, right.

As he grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge, he spotted himself in the wall mirror. “Give her the water and get out,” he told his reflection. “Don’t be a dick. Don’t think with your dick. Just get in and get out.”

Feeling confident he could accomplish his mission, he returned to the bedroom. “Here you go, I’m leav—”

But he never finished his sentence. He couldn’t. The sight that met him in the bedroom stole all possibility of speech.

Because Heather lay on the bed, her torso propped up on her elbows, her mouth twisted in a sexy smile.

And she was stark naked.

Chapter Six

Holy f**k…

Heather Wainwright—naked. Though he couldn’t give a shit about her celebrity status, Seth suddenly understood why she’d made the 50 Most Beautiful People list three years running. She was absolutely breathtaking.

He’d already viewed her tits—gorgeous tits that had surprised him with their authenticity—but finding her spread out na**d in front of him was a sight to behold. Though her br**sts were still a highlight, she had other truly beautiful features—taut long legs, curvy h*ps and a stomach so flat he could eat on it. Except if he was going to be eating, it would be lower, on the nearly bare stretch of area that peeked out between her soft supple thighs. His mouth watered with the desire to taste her.

As if controlled by something outside of him, a magnetic force drawing him to her, Seth took a step toward the bed. He was vaguely aware of an alarm going off in the back of his head, his conscience reminding him something about getting in and getting out.

Oh, he’d get in and get out all right. In and out all night long if she’d let him.

But wait—this wasn’t right. Of all the times in his life that his gentlemanly side had abandoned him, it had to go and show up now when he’d be perfectly happy to be a man without morals.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes so he could concentrate without the distraction of the beautiful unclothed body in front of him. That was better. He could control himself now. Could remember why he needed to leave.

He opened his eyes, keeping them pinned to the abstract painting on the wall above the bed. “Heather.” He was surprised he could talk so naturally. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Seducing you.” Her words came out in a purr, soft and sweet with a frequency that seemed to be tuned right to his dick.

He was in so much trouble.

“Very funny.” Get in and get out. “Here’s your water.” Not daring himself to have any contact with her, he kept his eyes averted and moved to the nightstand, planning to drop the bottles there and leave. He managed the first step, but moving so close to her was a big mistake. Because now he was within her reach.

Not even a second passed between the moment he let go of the bottles and the moment Heather grabbed his shirt. She’d moved to the edge of the bed, up on her knees. “What’s so funny about it?”

Damn, for a woman who’d had too much to drink, she could move.

But she was still drunk. He had to remember that. “Heather, you’re not in any condition for this.” He couldn’t ignore her bare skin now that it was pressed up against him, no matter how hard he tried. At least he couldn’t see her as well in this position.

Her response to his statement was to kiss along the underside of his jaw.

Keep focused. “And if you remember correctly, we don’t really care for each other. Despite being attracted to one another…” More than attracted. He was goddamn ready to spill his load simply from what she was doing with her mouth on his neck. Imagine if her mouth was elsewhere…

Focus! “But you probably don’t remember that we hate each other because, as I said before, you’re drunk. And I’m drunk.” He brought his arms around her with the intention of pushing her away, but didn’t seem to be able to do anything but stroke the silky skin of her backside with his palms.

She kissed up to his ear. “I’m not that drunk.”

“You passed out in the elevator.” Oh God, her tongue in his ear…

“I’m a good actress.”

“You’re not that good of an actress.” But he found himself questioning whether or not she was really as drunk as he’d first assumed. Had the whole thing been a ruse to get him to her room?

As if reading his mind, she asked, “Are you sure?”