Miss Congeniality (15 page)

“Well, you’re about to look.” He kissed her hard and fast before typing in their names on the Google search engine to see what popped up. She leaned on his arm to look over his shoulder, surprised at the number of hits which came up. There were pictures of them at brunch, of her getting into his car, and of his car parked in front of her house.

“Where did they get all these?” she asked, taken aback at the amount of information the media had from just the short amount of time they had been together.

“I’d say someone’s been busy.”

“Clearly. Who knew we would be that interesting?”

“Good girl meets bad boy, it strikes a chord. They want to know who is going to be affected most…will the good girl go bad, or the bad boy go good?”

She hit him on the arm. “I’m not changing for you.”

He looked at her as if she was crazy. “You think I’m changing for you?”

“One can hope.”

“It’s more like a dream.”

“Or a challenge.”

“So, tell me why I shouldn’t be mad at you?” Raquel asked before biting into her salad at lunch later that afternoon when she met the girls for their weekly lunch date. It had been predetermined, but with all the media attention surrounding Brea and Lance, she was crazy if she thought they wouldn’t want to talk about it. That was why she wasn’t too surprised at Raquel’s question.

“It just kind of happened.”

Raquel put her sunglasses on her head, the universal sign she was about to call bullshit on someone. “You mean to tell me you just kind of fell into bed with Lance Holder? Raise your hand if you believe that.” She looked to Clare, who shook her head no.

“You know I hate it when you do that shit.”

“No, you hate it when I’m right,” she countered.

“Regardless of whether you agree with Raquel or not, she has a point. How did you get involved with Lance? When we left you the other day, you were dead-set against him, and only considering whether you were going to even talk to him again,” Clare broke in, probably to ward off the argument between Raquel and Brea.

“I called him Friday and we went to this little hole-in-the-wall bar. We talked, and we ended up spending the weekend together.”

“You’re leaving something out.” Raquel didn’t look convinced by her story, but Brea wasn’t about to tell her about her brother. There was no way she was going to tell them. It was none of their business about what was going on with her family in South Carolina. They knew a little bit about her past, but she didn’t want to share the latest saga with anyone except Lance. She refused to consider why she only wanted to tell him, but she knew she felt safer with him than she had with anyone in a long time. Her history with guys wasn’t extensive; she had dated here and there, but it was really difficult with the hours she worked and the constant barrage of media attention she was beginning to gather since she began dating Lance. She hoped, because Lance was well-versed in the relentlessness of the media, he would understand everything she went through.

“I’m not really. I don’t want to discuss what we talked about, because it’s private, but just know everything is cool between us.”

“Clearly,” Raquel said dryly. “You spent the weekend together, and if I had to bet money, your phone is vibrating off the hook because of lover boy.” She was probably right, but she hadn’t checked, choosing to spend this time with her girls because she would see him later tonight or tomorrow.

“It may be, but it’s none of your business. Plus, I came here to meet you guys and talk about what is up with you since I haven’t really seen or heard from you in the past couple of days.”

“You haven’t really missed us.”

She smirked, thinking about her weekend with Lance. “Nope.”

Raquel laughed, knowing exactly what she was thinking about. “You bitch. I know what you’re thinking about, and you’re not allowed to rub good sex in our faces. Is she, Clare?”

“I agree.”

“I’ll try not to. Although, it was so damn good.”

Raquel turned to Clare, begging, “Make her stop.” Clare held her hands up to stop both of them.

“I’m not doing a thing. Besides, the only one at this table not getting regular sex is you, Raquel.”

“You went back with Jason?” Raquel asked.

“More like we just decided we would continue our mutually-beneficial relationship for the time being until it no longer works for both of us.”

“Ohhh…those are some awfully big words to basically say you’re fuck buddies.”

“You’re so crude, Raquel,” Clare said before taking a drink of her water.

“Hey, I call it like I see it, which is something you appreciate. Aren’t you concerned he will be a little crazy again?”

“I hope not. I think as long as we keep it to sex, it should be fine.”

“Famous last words.” Raquel dug into her salad, having made her point.

“Speaking of famous last words, I thought you were going to stay out of the media and not get into any more trouble. What is with this latest guy?” Clare asked, turning the tables on her.

Raquel groaned, covering her face with her hands. “That asshole, did you see what he said about me?”

One of the things Brea loved about the media was they were indiscriminate, latching onto the next great story regardless of whom it was about. Raquel had been in the headlines this morning, as well. The local celebrity press headline read: ‘Man-eater strikes again…Ice Queen retains her crown,’ a scathing article from the guy she went out with last week, saying she was a cock tease and would never find a man willing to deal with her bullshit. It was the latest nightmare in her rapidly-deteriorating reputation.

“Everyone saw. I thought you said he was a nice guy,” Clare told her.

“I thought he was! But when we went to the movies, so cliché for a first date, he sent me this text message asking for a hand job.”

Brea was taken aback. “In the middle of the movie?”

“Yes! He is crazy as hell! When I texted him back ‘hell no’, he told me
I
was crazy as hell and no wonder I was still single. Then he left me in the theater and didn’t come back. I had to hail a cab to get home.”

Brea started laughing, unable to contain herself. “Only you would have a horrible date who then went and reported you to the press.”

Raquel fluffed her hair. “I know. And I don’t know what to do about my nightmare reputation. I’m thinking about hiring a spin-doctor to help improve it. I can’t be known as the Ice Queen anymore.” Raquel may regularly appear unaffected, but she looked pained by her ongoing situation.

“It’ll get better.” Clare, always the diplomatic one, tried to make her feel better.

“It has to, because it can’t be any worse.”

“Come outside.”

“I thought we moved past this. You are supposed to say, ‘Hello, darling, how are you? Are you busy right now, because I would really like to see you?’ ”

Lance’s smoky laugh filled her ear. “I could go through all that, but the end result is the same, and you’ll still end up outside.”

“I’ll consider it,” Brea said before she hung up the phone. Better to fight him a bit; that way, he didn’t run roughshod over her. She mentally counted to thirty, and as if on cue, her phone rang again.

“Hello,” she answered sweetly.

“You have about fifteen seconds to get your ass outside or the next time I get you alone I’ll spank said ass.” She crossed her legs, feeling her face flame.

“Promises, promises.”

“Get outside,” he growled. She laughed, loving the way she affected him. She walked outside, hanging up her phone as she reached him. He was propped against his motorcycle, feet crossed at his ankles, holding his helmet in his hands. His hair was lying across his forehead, and she loved that she now had the right to run her hands through it anytime she wanted to. She stopped in front of him, waving her phone at him.

“You rang, Master?”

“Ohh, I like the sound of that.” He placed his hands on her hips and moved her so she was flush with him. He kissed her deeply, slapping her ass when she pulled away. She yelped, jerking in shock. “Next time I call, you come.”

“Are you serious? What is this? Me, Tarzan; you, Jane. I’m not some weak-kneed woman you can just order around.”

“And yet, you came,” he pointed out. He was right, yet again, but she didn’t want to give him a leg up. This was a war, and she already felt like she was losing.

“Why did you call me, anyway?”

He flipped the helmet over in his hands, holding it out so she could see it. “I want to take you for a ride.” She stepped back, taking in his motorcycle. She didn’t know a lot about them, and she had never felt the need to try one because they never seemed safe to her. Who would want to ride on a death trap?

“You want me to ride that?” She pointed at the motorcycle, looking at it like it was going to kill her.

“Yes. Have you never ridden on one?”

“No, because I don’t have a death wish.” He reached for her, but she backed up so all he caught was air.

“You’re not going to die on my motorcycle.”

“So you say.”

He ran his hand through his hair, agitated. “How about this? If you get on my motorcycle for this date, then I will take you wherever you want on the next date.”

“Anywhere?”

“Yes.” She brightened, thinking she was going to make him take her to a place he would hate the worst.

“Fine,” she agreed, allowing him to put the helmet on her head. She positioned herself behind him, wrapping her hands around his waist. He roared out of her driveway, getting on the highway before he put his bike through its paces. Brea figured she wouldn’t like it, but she found she loved it. The feel of the open air, the vibration of the bike between her legs, all made her aware of his hard body pressed against her. She moved her hands down his stomach, grabbing his penis over his jeans. He put his hand over hers, pulling them back to their original position and patting them.

Okay
, she thought,
clearly he doesn’t want me to feel him up
. Brea decided to have a bit of fun. She moved her hand, grabbing his dick and squeezing, causing him to jerk the machine. Then began a game of cat and mouse, in which she tried desperately to touch him, and he continued to move her hand back. This lasted about ten minutes before he pulled off the road into a driveway. She stared at the house; gorgeous glass windows adorned the front, and she could hear the ocean in the background. He ripped off his helmet after he stopped the motorcycle, getting off the bike before he grabbed her head and kissed her frantically, tongues melding as both fought for the best position.

“Come on, tease.” He helped her get down, fairly dragging her toward the door while she continued to kiss his neck. She was so far gone she would have let him fuck her on the driveway. He stopped at the door, propping her against it while he tried to reach for his keys. She shoved her hand down the front of his pants, causing him to jerk in response while he fumbled with his key in the lock.

“Hurry,” she begged, almost falling through the door when he wrenched it open. He caught her, dragging her down to the floor with him in the foyer after he slammed the door shut. He ripped her shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, desperate to get her undressed.

“Lance!” she screamed, arching up while she reached behind her to get her bra off. “Get these off,” she practically begged while she pulled at his jeans. He yanked his own off at the same time she pulled her jeans and panties down, hesitating as he leaned on top of her.

“What the hell?” she screeched, irritated when he hesitated.

“Pants.” He grabbed blindly behind himself and reached in the pocket for a condom. He ripped it open and rolled it on, climbing back on top of her and pushing into her with little finesse. They met each other thrust for thrust; the only sounds in the room were the grunts and groans.

“Let go,” he told her, but she shook her head frantically, feeling too much. She couldn’t process it; it was all too much for her to take in.

“Let go,” he commanded, biting her neck. She came apart, swearing she saw stars, feeling him push in and out a couple more times before he came.