Total Trainwreck (16 page)

“Ugh, Carly!” he growls into my neck, planting a soft kiss on the spot that wrecks me. “I can’t leave you.” He shakes his head like he’s at a total loss. I am too.

“How come?”

“You know my secret. That gives you just as much control as her.” He says this only half joking.

“Only, I’m not a conceited, backstabbing, conniving bitch.”

“True.”

“I can be a bitch when I need to.” My look goes ice cold. I playfully grab the hair at the nape of his neck, yank his head back and plant my lips over his. We share a long kiss before I pull away. “Heather is going down.”

“I like this side of you,” Devon says, turning me in his lap to get a better look at the determination tightening my face. “But I don’t see how we win. I can’t meet her demands. It would ruin me financially.”

“Hell no, you aren’t giving in to her demands. A bitch like her is bound to have some buried secret of her own. If we even the playing field, she’ll have to settle for less. Have you ever had anyone look into her past?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re about to.”

* * *

According to Devon’s lawyers, Shay Moretti is the toughest fixer in Tinseltown. His mentor swept every trace of the Kennedy boys from Marilyn’s house before the cops got there. He’s a ghost spoken of only in whispers. When you need some shady shit done, you call him. I assume he’s mobbed up. I’m certain you don’t fuck with him. His newest job is finding every skeleton in Heather Troy’s considerable closet. Get ready bitch, we’re coming for you.

I’m binge-watching
Ray Donovan
reruns and dreaming up a million different ways to take the skank down. Something tells me I’d make a damn good fixer. I’m sprawled on the couch, iPad in hand when Devon comes through the door, shaking the rain from his coat. In addition to being bone-numbingly cold, it started raining last night and hasn’t stopped. The castle flooded so badly they canceled shooting for the day. Fine by me. Ray’s been keeping me company while Devon stayed behind to manage the setback.

“What’s the word?” I ask, pausing my show.

“According to locals it’s typical weather for this time of year. These storms stall out for days. We’ve sandbagged the castle to save equipment, but we won’t be shooting anytime soon.”

“Too bad we aren’t somewhere I’d actually like to be a tourist.” I roll my eyes and turn back to Ray. “Have you talked to Mr. Moretti?” I ask as if it’s an afterthought. Admittedly, I’m way too into this whole
Spy vs. Spy
thing. He’s maybe been on the case a day. Still, I can’t shake this growing feeling that he’s our answer to everything. Devon gives a silent but amused chuckle.

“It’ll take him at least a week to do his research. He should have something for us by the time we get back to L.A.” I scowl at his answer. L.A. is an entire six days away. How the hell am I supposed to wait that long? There are only so many episodes of
Ray Donovan
a girl can watch. “If I have to look at these walls until the rain stops, I’ll go crazy.” He drops the contents of his pockets to the table and stretches his back. I love us like this—in these rare quiet moments where there’s nothing to do but focus on being us. It tells me how real this is and strengthens my resolve to beat Heather at her own game.

“Then look at me,” I tease with a sexy wink. Given a few rainy days, there are at least a million ways I can dream up to take him down, too. In a totally sexual way, of course.

“Hmm... tempting.” He tackles me on the couch, shaking the wet from his hair all over me. I toss my iPad on the coffee table to save it, and turn back to be devoured by his kisses. “But I’ve got a better idea.”

He sits up, interrupting what was a very promising make-out session. I frown like the whore I am. He whips out his phone with a schoolboy grin. What is he up to?

“Ernest? Have the jet readied for takeoff. We’re getting out of this frozen wasteland.”

I sit up, too, immediately forgetting his kisses. “Where are we going?” I whisper, pulling at his arm. He playfully brushes me off, shaking his head like it’s a secret of national security importance. I continue to grab at him, going for his crotch because I know he won’t deflect those blows.

Barely able to speak with my hands working their magic down there, he turns what little attention he can back to the phone. “Yes, destination Cagliari.”

He ends the call with a triumphant smile, gives me a mischievous side-eye, and settles back to enjoy my handiwork. Once the destination registers, my hands freeze.

“Cagliari?” I ask, my mouth hanging open. His only answer is a simple shrug.

“You better pack your bags, Sunshine.”

I squeal, leap to my feet and sprint into the bedroom on air, leaving his cock hanging...literally.

I’ll finish it at 40,000 feet.

We’re going to the island.

Chapter Nineteen

“Shh...” he whispers against my lips, silencing my pleasured pants with a kiss as best he can. But even his tongue in my mouth can’t stop the ecstasy ripping from my throat.

I turn my head and bite his shoulder, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh like it may help. It’s no use, and only adds his barely muffled grunts to the mix.

We’re naked, tangled in the luxurious sheets of a double bed, thousands of feet above the ground. With an audience on the other side of the door only a few feet away, it rouses the same voyeuristically erotic notion that made fucking him on set so damn hypnotic.

His arm slips under my leg. He hooks his elbow around my knee and pulls it up to the side, opening me further as he drives deep inside. My other leg snakes around his bare ass, taking him all the way in before I plant my foot on the sheet, knowing I’ll need something to hold onto. It’s building. I’m coming, and with the added weightlessness, humming engines and sheer thrill of fucking midflight, it’s not going to take long.

It’s like doing it on a magic carpet soaring above the clouds. A million splendid sunset hues stream in through a small portal window, covering us in a kaleidoscope of color, because that’s how high we are. It feels like I could reach out the window and touch the burning flames.

But the only thing burning right now is the growing need his thrusts coax from deep inside. Sensing the time is near, he once again places his mouth over mine.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispers into our kiss. He doesn’t have to ask twice. I close my eyes, whimper against a sensation that is both heaven and hell, and cling tightly to his back as my insides quiver around him with a release that turns me to jelly. Satisfied I’m done, he looses his own silent orgasm, absorbing all the sound in a tightly pinched face and a rigid body. We don’t move, silently listening to normal airplane sounds, hoping the engine noise was enough to drown out our lovemaking. Not that it really matters. Why fly private if you can’t fuck when the mood hits?

Our bodies relax into the sheets, muscles spent, orgasms softly fading. He lies over half of me, stroking my hair while my fingertip follows the line of his bicep back and forth. It’s all blissfully perfect until I have to open my big fat mouth.

“Have you done it up here before?” I ask, pushing him off and turning onto my side to get a better look at his answer. We’re sated and sweaty, biting at sneaky smiles over what we’ve just done. His lips twitch before a hand moves to cover them. Stall tactics like this are beyond obvious and annoying as hell, especially with his come still slicking my thighs. Admittedly, it’s a loaded question.

“Have you?” he asks, lowering his gaze from the ceiling to me. Through his post-coital trance, his navy eyes sparkle with a roguish gleam. I shrug and shake my head, looking away like it isn’t a big deal. “You know, it’s really not even the mile-high club. A mile is around five thousand feet. We’re at least thirty-five thousand right now.”

“You’re such a nerd.” I huff and turn my back to him because I know what his evasion means. He’s already a card-toting member. Even though the revelation doesn’t really surprise me, it’s still aggravating as hell. So much so, I wish I’d never asked. “Who was she?”

An exasperated breath escapes him. “I don’t even remember her name. It was a bucket-list check mark back when I was young, dumb and full of come. From what I remember, it sucked. Even in a first class bathroom.”

“You did it flying commercial?” I ask, slightly appalled. He nods. I gag. “Ew!” I climb out of his arms, trying to talk myself out of my mounting anger. I’m the idiot who started this conversation, and I had zero control over his cock back then. But still. I search through our discarded clothes, find his T-shirt and pull it over my head.

Without another word, I walk into the bathroom and shut the door.
Don’t do this, Carly
, I think to myself, splashing water on my face and taming my hair. Fighting with him over something as pointless as where he decided to stick his dick decades ago is ridiculous. The sane part of me realizes this. The irrational parts of me that still linger are mad as hell. Right now, they’re winning.

But it’s not his frequent-fucker status. Not really. This is just the first sore spot to come to a head I can squeeze. If I’m honest, it’s everything. Since Heather showed up and tried to sabotage our world I’ve had this sinking feeling about us. About him. Doubt crept in and I can’t help feeling like everything we do is a repetition of what he’s already done. No matter what we do, he’s been there with someone else.

I’m not his first lover or his first love. Someone else has already met his family and heard his first
I love you
. When people think of him, I’m not the woman they picture on his arm. Hell, outside of our Siberian reality, I’m not even the one he wakes up to. These thoughts have crawled all under my skin. But for the sake our trip, I swallow my emotions as best I can, slap on a half smile, and emerge from the restroom ready to act like they’re not gnawing my gut in two.

Only, when I open the door, I crash head-first into his bare chest. He’s hanging in the doorway, hands gripping the top sill, waiting, listening, knowing me well enough to know something’s up. With a weak smile I push past him, ducking under an arm. In the tight quarters of his flying chariot’s bedroom, he easily catches me around the waist and pulls me into him.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

I try to wiggle away, but it’s no use. So, I smile and lie, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Nothing.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he says, tightening his grip and leading me back to the bed. I push against his raw strength in protest. When I was using, I was the best damn liar there was. Have I lost that, too? We sink into rumpled sheets, me landing in his lap. “Would you feel better knowing you popped my private mile-high cherry?” His smile is easy, but I see the anxiety hiding behind it.

“Really? You’ve never fucked in this bed?” My side-eyed smirk makes it clear I don’t believe him.

He shakes his head. “Never. It’s only you.” The earnestness of his admission calms some of my crazy. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Avoiding this is pointless. He’s onto me. “Everything we do, you’ve already done. We have nothing that’s
ours
.” I trace a finger over the line of his shoulder, feeling the vulnerability of my admission break hot over my cheeks.

“Sunshine, everything is new with you. Before, I was only going through the motions. Those motions meant nothing because there was zero emotion behind them. You—” he takes my chin and looks deeply into my eyes “—make life everything.” His look is wounded, like my unhappiness somehow calls into question the very essence of his manhood. Men only look at women like this when their whole heart is in the game. I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder. Yes, I know I’m half crazy.

“I’m sorry. I’m not this insecure. It’s just...” I pause because I’m not exactly sure how to say what it is I’m feeling. I nuzzle into the warmth of his neck and inhale deeply the scent that wrecks me. “I feel like I will forever be trying to crawl out from under the shadow of what your life was before. Regardless of what happens with Heather, I’ll always be the other woman in America’s eyes. What everyone
thinks
you have...it’s Camelot, Devon. It’s an impossible reality your fans worship. How can I, can we, ever compete with that?”

“You’re exactly right. It is an impossible reality. Nothing is real in my life with her. With you, everything’s real. You can’t be bothered by what other people say about us. You have to know in here—” he takes my hand and places it over my heart “—that what we have is infinitely better than anything I’ve ever had.”

I nod, knowing he’s right, but still remain uneasy with the thought.

“What do you want? How can I prove it to you? Once Heather’s gone do you want a huge L.A. wedding with a thousand guests we don’t give two shits about? A horde of paparazzi proclaiming you queen for actually getting me to the altar? Drones flying overhead? A moment sucked of every intimacy possible?”

“Hmm...” I initially perk up at the thought, imagining the knife that would twist in Heather’s side. Everyone knows an overhyped Hollywood wedding is nothing more than show. Having the world in attendance doesn’t guarantee a happily-ever-after. I shake my head. “No, I’d only want me and you there.”

“Then what is it you want?”

“I want us to share something that’s all ours. Something to remind me of our reality any time this crazy world we live in makes me doubt. Something to hold onto.”

“Carly Klein, I love you. Isn’t that enough?” The wounded look haunts him again. It shatters my heart because I know I’m the reason for it. This is so not how I pictured starting our vacation.

Afraid a verbal answer will expose my lie, I rest my cheek against his shoulder once more, nuzzling into the familiar warmth. With a simple nod, I place a gentle kiss against the sinew bulging between his neck muscles. “You’re always enough,” I answer in a whisper. That part is true. He’s more than I’ve ever hoped for. The rest, well, I’ll have to find my own peace with that.

* * *

“You. Are. Insane.” I speak slowly, unable to fathom how the words find their way out of my mouth. Covered in the delicate warmth of a lazy island breeze, I’m frozen in place, unable to believe what’s just crossed his lips. Normally, this would be jump for joy kinda news. We aren’t normal.

“Just hear me out.” His grimace turns into a hopeful smile that damn near breaks my heart. He takes my hand and leads me from the kitchen, down the hall.

“Oh, I’m all ears. Please, tell me exactly what you hope to accomplish with this new lunacy of yours.” We open the door to Heather’s bedroom. Only, it’s not her bedroom at all. It’s completely redecorated. A new sea-grass bed sits in the middle of the room on a giant sheepskin rug, catching gentle ocean whispers from every direction. Gone are her massive chests overflowing with clothes, a simple reclaimed wood armoire in their place. Even the artwork is new—not a single Heather headshot to be found. I’m confused until I remember the state of destruction I left the room in.

“Do you like it?” Devon asks, hope still lighting his smile.

“Don’t change the subject.” I pull my hand away and cross my arms.

“Okay.” He doesn’t even flinch, immediately heart-attack serious. “Marry me. Today. Say yes because it’s what we both want, even if no one else wants it for us. Because this will be the thing we share that is all ours.”

I mean, really? The word
marry
melts me in a million ways. His reason for asking wrecks me in a trillion more. It’s all I can do to say no, but one of us has to be a rational human, and that sure as shit isn’t him right now.

“Devon, if it were just me and you, there would be zero question. But that’s not our reality. How can we possibly ignore everything else? Heather hasn’t agreed to terms. Mr. Moretti has yet to produce anything. America still thinks you’re half of HeaVon.” I throw my hands in the air and slap them against my thighs. “Do you want me to go on? Because I can think of at least
four hundred million
reasons why this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

I’m sad and pissed, a most volatile combination. How dare he offer me something I desperately want but can’t possibly have? Marriage is so out of the question right now it never popped up on my radar, but now that I know it obviously has on his, and there’s no way in hell it can happen, I’m seconds away from flying into a blind-rage kinda mad at him.

“You’re missing the point entirely.” He’s so calm and self-assured it unnerves me further. I stalk to the other side of the room so I don’t hit him, because his last comment makes my fist itch. “Marry me here. On our island. You, me and a priest. No license. No record. No proof of what we’ve done. This is only for us.”

I check my anger long enough to actually process what he’s saying. Foreign marriages aren’t recognized on American soil. On the privacy of
our
island we can do whatever we want and no one will know unless we want them to. An old Sardinian priest wouldn’t have a clue who we are. It’d be our secret, which in some strange way makes it mean more. A secret marriage to the Sexiest Man Alive? I should be all high-fiving, hell yes, but I’m not.

“Then what’s the point? It only gives me a taste of something I may never actually have.” I hang my head and chew my lip to stop its quivering, once again reminded of how badly our reality sucks.

“Sunshine...” His voice breaks over the word. “I realize we can’t get married for real.” He takes my hands in his, pulling them into his chest. “Yet...” he adds as an afterthought. “But you obviously need something from me you can hold onto. A promise that I’m in this for good. I’ve never said ‘I do’ to anyone. I’ve never wanted to. Until you.”

His face is so full of faith, hope and love, I realize I don’t have a choice. Not really. Even if, in the back of my mind, those four-hundred million reasons are yelling no, that’s not the word that comes out of my mouth, because in my heart I do want this. Him. Me. It’s all I want. And on
our
island I can have what I want. I can have everything I want.

Slowly, I start nodding. Once, then twice. A third time with a smile breaking over my face. A fourth time and he lifts me over his head, spinning me around like a crazy man in love. Good god, yes! We are insane. We’re as crazy as they come. But that’s what loving a man like this does to a girl like me. Rationality flies out the window as he carries me into the walk-in closet. It’s the first place I ever dreamed of a happily-ever-after with him. The first time I ever dared to imagine what it would be like to walk a red carpet by his side. I am still held aloft by his strong arms when his lips find mine. Our teeth clink together, neither of us able to wipe the smile off our face long for a proper kiss.

He sets me on my feet. The once overflowing closet is empty, nothing but naked hangers and bare shelves. He’s totally moved her out. Not a trace of Heather remains. With a perma-grin still plastered in place, he turns me to the far wall.