But before I had a chance, he sank to his knees in front of me. His hands moved to the small of my back, pulling my body closer to his. My hands tucked into his silky curls, and I ran my fingers through them and made them stand straight up. I pressed his face into my tummy, hearing him sigh as his lips made contact with my skin.
His fingers slipped under the band of my panties and began to slowly drag them down my body, revealing me to him once again. He gazed at me once I was bare before him, then looked up at me, his eyes shining.
“Brilliant,” he said, running one hand from my bottom to my knee, easily hooking my leg over his shoulder.
My hand caressed his face as my body tensed in anticipation of his touch. He nuzzled at me, and my hands gripped him for balance. His lips found the space where my leg joined my hip, and he kissed me.
“Fucking brilliant,” he whispered, letting his tongue trace where my panties had been.
I moaned at the feel of him, at the sweet fluttering of his tongue and lips as he swept me open. His soft lips met me, and as he probed me with his tongue, I could feel the want and need I had for him, that was always there, begin to build.
He stood quickly and lifted me from the ground, removing my bra as he carried me to the bed.
The sight of Jack Hamilton, shirtless and about to make me see God, was something I’d never tire of seeing, and I panted at the thought of what was about to happen.
He laid me down and stood over me, his hands sweeping over my body. My shoulders, my breasts, my tummy, my hips, my thighs, and finally his fingers found me, nudging my legs open, revealing me to him.
“You’re so beautiful, Gracie,” he murmured and bent his head to me. His tongue found me instantly, and as he stroked me, I cried out at the perfection that was him.
No one would ever know my body as well as he did, and no one would ever make me feel the way he could.
His hands held me down on the bed as my body thrashed. His mouth and lips and tongue brought wave after wave, crashing against me, making me moan, groan, sigh, cry, and finally scream his name.
“Oh, God, mmm, Jack, Jack, Jack!” I screamed, feeling as though my insides were bursting. He hovered over my body, the intense pleasure beginning to ebb as he took me down slowly, his tongue now gently sweeping over me, lips kissing, teeth nibbling, as he made his way to my inner thigh.
“Hmm, this appears to be fading. Can’t have that.” He chuckled and bit down, making his Hamilton Brand stronger.
The combination of the crazy orgasms he’d just given me and the exquisite pain of his teeth brought me out of my dream state and back into reality.
A reality where Jack was still wearing pants.
I pulled him up my body and flipped him on his back. His surprise at my sudden attack quickly turned to passion as I kissed him fiercely, almost bruising his lips with my own. I struggled to remove his pants, and he finally lay na**d before me, gloriously na**d.
And gloriously hard.
I smirked at him, his eyes glowing in the candlelight. I grasped his hands in mine, kicked one leg over him, and positioned myself.
His eyes watched me in the same way he’d watched me remove my clothes earlier—with lust and want.
I winked and slid down on top of him. We both groaned at the feel of him filling me up again. His h*ps thrust upward as I rocked backward, and he hit me so deep I almost cried right there.
“Jesus, Grace, I missed you,” he moaned as I began to move up and down on him, his hands unclasping from mine so he could hold onto my h*ps and grind further into me.
“I know, I missed you too,” I answered, my pace beginning to quicken as I could feel myself getting close again.
He sat up, pulling my legs around his waist so he could thrust deeper into me, and we both sighed. He bent his head to my neck, kissing and sucking as I threw my head back and held on tightly to his shoulders.
“You are so sexy,” he growled, pumping into me in an almost angry way.
I loved Aggressive Jack. “I’m only sexy because you’re so good to me,” I moaned in his ear, knowing how he liked it when I talked to him.
It worked.
He growled again, lifting my h*ps and slamming me back into him, causing me to scream out his name once more. He hit that spot, that J-Spot, and then I was coming all around him.
“Fuck yes, Grace. That’s so good,” he moaned, and then my beautiful man made the beautiful face that he alone can make: jaw clenched, eyes shut tightly, lips parted, and brow furrowed.
The Brit came.
In me.
“Brilliant,” I whispered, clutching him to me, taking in his deep breaths as he collapsed against my chest. He rested his head on my shoulder as I held him.
“I love you, sweet girl,” he whispered, kissing the space between my breasts. Then he looked into my eyes.
“I love you too, Jack.” I kissed his forehead.
We slept together all night, tangled in the sheets.
His hands? Where do you think?
***
Jack flew back to L.A. the next morning after we had na**d pancakes and na**d waffles, respectively. I put him in a cab for the airport, knowing I would see him very soon. It was getting easier to say goodbye.
He spent the next few days doing interviews, photo shoots, and TV shows. He was on Leno and Ellen, and all the others, and he consistently sent me secret messages through the inane answers he gave the interviewers. Nice…
Countless photos began to appear in magazines, and he was truly becoming the next big thing. His name was on everyone’s lips, his face was on every cover, and he spent his evenings alone in his hotel room, giggling like a boy on the phone with me as we talked for hours and hours. The sexiest man alive was a closet Golden Girls fan.
I spent the next week in rehearsals, making sure everything was as it should be so I could justify taking a weekend off right before the final touches were put on the show. A few members of the local theater press showed up at the last day of rehearsal, specially invited by Michael, and I actually spent a few minutes being interviewed about the show and my role! No one had ever interviewed me before, and though it was nowhere near the stratospheric level (and climbing) of Jack’s success, it was nonetheless a victory for little ol’ me. I was proud of the work I was doing, and any time spent talking about the show was time well spent. I even had a “pinch-me” moment when a reporter asked me to spell my name for him: I realized I might soon see it in print! I marveled at the life I was living, and the good fortune I’d been granted for a second shot at this career.
As Jack geared up for the biggest night of his life, Leslie and I shopped for a dress worthy of a red carpet premiere, and—although I don’t know if it was him or me—Michael and I spent no time alone together all week.
Finally, it was the day of my flight back to L.A. I was packed and ready to go. I took a cab to the airport, with my dress folded carefully away.
I was going home.
Chapter 10
My flight landed around three p.m. on Thursday, otherwise known as the day before the premiere. I was practically jumping out of my seat by the time we neared LAX, energized by the nap I’d managed to catch on the plane.
I looked out my window, watching as the desert gave way to that decidedly Southern Californian terrain. When I glimpsed the ocean, I knew I was home.
Jack wanted so badly to pick me up at the airport, but he couldn’t for two reasons: One, he was booked solid with interviews and promotion, and two, there was no way he’d be able to dodge the paparazzi at the airport. There was always someone at the airport waiting to catch a star looking terrible after a transcontinental flight, and they’d be ecstatic to catch Jack picking up his unidentified redhead, whose legs would be locked firmly around his waist as he kissed her as only he could. Welcome home, indeed.
Since Holly was also occupied with all things premiere, I’d planned to catch a cab and head straight to my house. Jack had agreed to meet me there after his last interview, and after he’d said good night to his father. His dad had flown in for the premiere, and while I was looking forward to meeting him, I was also severely nervous about such a big event. I’d be meeting him tomorrow night, but tonight Jack had gotten the night off from most of his “familial obligations,” as he called them, to “welcome me home in style.” Who was I to argue with that?
As I walked through baggage on my way to the line of cabs parked outside, I was pleasantly surprised to hear my name, then see my car! Leaning on it, sunglasses firmly planted on face and wearing a huge grin, was the cutest thing I’d ever seen: Nick. One of the sweetest guys Holly and I had ever known, he was a screenwriter with an even bigger crush on Jack than mine.
“Hey, bitch. I heard you needed a ride,” he deadpanned.
“I really just do.” I laughed, running over and hugging him fiercely. I’d missed my little buddy.
We laughed as we hugged, then he threw my bag in the backseat. He was headed to the driver’s side when I held my hand out.
“No way, ass. I’ve been riding on a subway and in cabs for weeks now. I need to drive my motherfucking car. Keys, please,” I instructed.
He handed them over. “I figured as much. Sunglasses?” he asked as I settled in.
“Sunglasses, check. Let’s go home.”
We drove the long way, avoiding the highways so I could soak up as much Cali weather as I could. With top down, in true Southern California style, we got caught up on everything as we drove PCH north, then turned east on Sunset for one of my favorite drives—the one Jack and I took months ago. I could feel the sun on my face, smell the tangy sea air, and I knew I’d never want to live anywhere else for the rest of my life. I really did like New York, but I loved L.A.
We finally made it to Laurel Canyon, and just as I turned into my driveway and glimpsed my beautiful little bungalow, my phone rang. It was Jack. Nick kissed me on the cheek and hopped out as I answered the phone.
“Hey, love, hang on a second,” I said, and I waved Nick back over to the car. “Thanks for coming to get me. It’s so good to be back! Will I see you tomorrow?” I called after him.
“Oh, please, girl. I’m your date! I’m the beard who’s escorting you to the premiere, and here’s hoping I can get close to that co-star, Lane. Have you seen the body on that guy?” He muttered incoherently to himself as he trotted back to his car, settled in, and sped out of the driveway.
I knew all eyes would be on Jack at the premiere, and with Holly managing every aspect of his career, I’d be more likely to sew my head to that red carpet than walk it with him. But I still wished I could walk with the man I loved on his special night.
“Who’s that you’re talking to, Grace?” Jack’s voice asked in my ear. “Back in town less than an hour and you’re picking up guys?” He laughed, and I smiled. Just the thought that Jack and I were back in the same city made my head swim.
“Ha-ha, that was Nick. He picked me up at the airport. Where are you?” I asked, schlepping my stuff toward the house.
Mmm, the lemon trees by my front door smelled intoxicating. I’d had a gardening service come by periodically to do some basic maintenance while I was away, and I was glad I had stood the expense—everything looked green, green, green.
“I’m just finishing up my last interview of the day, and you’ll be interested to know that Teen Beat has analyzed a sample of my handwriting. They’ve deduced from it that I’m artistic, highly motivated, and loyal.” He chuckled.
I turned the key, unlocking my home. “All true. Once you decided to woo me, you didn’t stop until you had me. Pretty motivated, as I recall.” I pushed through the door and walked inside. The smell of still-new construction, Pine Sol, and my favorite white tea candles greeted me.
“Me woo you? I think you have that backward, Nuts Girl. You were clearly throwing yourself at me from the moment I met you. You with your boobies talk and your saltines. You were on the prowl.”
“Yes, saltine spit-up is definitely a wooing trick I’ve been using for years and years.” I laughed as I set my bag down and began opening windows. The light poured in, and I could feel the late-afternoon sun on my skin. I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it until I sighed out loud.
“Glad to be home?” he asked.
“You have no idea, George. When are you coming over?” I sank into one of my fluffy couches in the living room.
“As soon as I have an early dinner with my dad. I’m not planning on eating much, so I’ll have a late dinner with you, if you like,” he said.
“Mmm, that sounds good. I may just catch a quick nap while I wait for you,” I said, stretching my arms over my head and hugging my couch pillow. I felt a flash of nerves at the mention of his father, but I pushed it back down. I could deal with this. What was I so afraid of?
“Did you check out the fridge yet?” he asked.
“No, I just got here. Why? I didn’t leave anything in there.” Puzzled, I got up and headed into the kitchen.
On the fridge, right under the Post-it note I’d left myself, was a picture of me and Jack. It was from Santa Barbara, taken by the photographer who’d done the InStyle shoot. I sat on Jack’s lap, looking at him with an intensity I’d not seen on my face before. He smiled sheepishly at the camera.
We looked crazy in love. And since I was sitting on his lap, there was no need to worry about the way my ass looked…
“Oh,” I said, my hands coming to my face. It was the only picture I had of the two of us, as I’d refused to print any of the ones from TMZ.
“Like it?” he asked.
“I love it. Thank you.” I smiled from ear to ear.
“I thought you might.” He chuckled, and I could hear someone talking in the background.