Stinger

CHAPTER 1

Las Vegas, Nevada

Grace

As I walked into the luxurious Bellagio Hotel and Casino, tired and rumpled from my flight, I saw two signs directing guests to the conferences going on that weekend. There was the one I was there to attend, The International Law Students Association Conference, and then there was another one, The Adult Entertainment Expo. My eyes moved back and forth between the signs and my brow furrowed. Well, that was… interesting. I guess that's Vegas for you, I thought. Law students, porn stars, aliens from distant planets, it hadn't taken me long to realize–just walking through the airport actually–that when it came to the City of Sin, shock value was practically non-existent.

If I didn't figure that out from the pantless man the cops were chasing through the airport upon my arrival, then I definitely got it from the g-stringed Elvis impersonator who flew by me on roller skates as I got out of my shuttle in front of the hotel. "You're not in Kansas anymore, honey." The driver had laughed as my head swiveled to watch the rolling, half-dressed Elvis glide away.

Apparently not.

As I walked further into the lobby, my mouth fell open and my eyes immediately moved upwards. The ceiling was filled with the most stunning glass blossoms–hundreds of them in every color imaginable. I moved in a circle, my head bent back, unable to look away from the gorgeous, overhead art. How in the world had that been installed? Finally, after a minute of drinking it in, I looked down and moved toward the front desk.

I was so completely awestruck by the stone pillars and gallery of fresh flowers and floating hot air balloons behind the check-in, that I almost didn't hear the woman desk-clerk call out to me. I wheeled my small suitcase up to the counter and smiled brightly at her. "Grace Hamilton. I have a reservation," I said.

The desk clerk smiled back. "Okay, let me just look you up… okay, here we go. You're here for the law student conference starting tomorrow?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"What school do you go to?" she asked as she took my credit card and swiped it quickly.

"Georgetown," I said, as I took my credit card back.

"Great school! Well have a good time. You're on the twenty-sixth floor, checked in until Monday. Check out time is noon. Here's a folder for those checking in for the law student conference. There's a schedule in there, a name tag, and any information you might need for this weekend." She handed everything to me and smiled again as she gestured to the next person in line.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing my suitcase handle and turning to walk toward the elevators. As I rounded the corner, I ran smack dab into a hard, male chest. "Oh, gosh! I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, looking up.

"No, I'm sorry–" he started to say at the same time. Our eyes met and we both fell silent, me blinking at him as he steadied me with both hands on my arms.

He was about my age with sandy colored hair that was just a little too long and curling up at the ends, and one of those handsome faces that manages to be both manly and boyish at the same time. Simultaneously rugged and pretty. His hazel eyes were fringed with thick, dark lashes, his nose straight and his full lips curved into a half-smile.

I glanced down quickly to take in his frame, lean but muscled, clad in dark jeans and a conservative, button-down, white shirt, sleeves rolled up.

He stared at me for a couple beats and something in his expression seemed to soften as my eyes moved back to his and his smile grew bigger, revealing a small dimple to the left of his bottom lip. He looked down at me and then bent to pick up the key card I had dropped when we collided.

As I watched him scoop up my card, the strangest feeling washed over me, almost like déjà vu, like we had met before. I furrowed my brow at the odd sensation, wondering if he was a law student that I had seen in passing at school. Here for the same conference?

As he stood straight and turned his shoulders toward me so that we were both facing each other completely, he held the key card out to me, and I saw that he had a conference nametag on. "Oh, you are here for the conference," I exclaimed. "I thought I might–" And that's when I read it, "Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer, Adult Entertainment Expo."

I stared at the words for a couple beats, digesting them, and then my eyes moved back up to his. He was smirking now and his eyes no longer held that softness I had seen just a minute before.

I cleared my throat and stood taller. "Well, then, I'm sorry again for the… uh, not watching where I was…" I cleared my throat, beginning again, "Well, have a good time… er, a nice time, um, enjoy," I gestured toward his name tag, "the show. Or rather, not the show, but the… well, enjoy the weekend."

What the hell was wrong with me? I was never flustered like this! I was going into law because I was good at finding the right words under pressure. And here a good-looking porn star rattled me so much, I could barely form a coherent sentence?

And that's when he burst out laughing, deepening that tiny dimple by his mouth. "I will, Buttercup. And you enjoy your weekend too. Let me guess, law student conference?"

I started to walk around him, but stopped when I heard the clearly condescending nickname and the amusement in his voice. "Yes, actually. Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, not at all. Looks like we're both here to learn how to be the best at getting people off."

My brows snapped down. "Well that's… that's a disgusting way to put it."

He moved closer to me until I was forced to step back. "Why? Getting people off is such a rush, Buttercup. Don't be ashamed of doing it well."

I coughed and narrowed my eyes. Eww. This man was not going to turn me into a flustered idiot for one second longer. I glanced back to his nametag and tapped it with my pointer finger. "I do a lot of things well, Carson, none of which I'm ashamed of," I said, leaning into him so that he knew I wasn't going to be intimidated by his blatant sexual innuendos.

He stared at me for a beat, that amused glint still in his eyes and then grinned, slow and sexy as his eyes dipped to my cleavage. "I bet." He took that full bottom lip between his teeth and looked back up at me.

I gawked at him for a second because I felt my nipples get hard under my white blouse and I did not appreciate that. Not one bit. I was going to have a talk with my body later and lay down the law. There was absolutely no getting turned on by porn stars purposefully trying to shock and intimidate for no apparent reason. The fact that any small part of him turned me on pissed me the hell off. I saw his eyes travel downward again, this time to my puckered nipples showing easily through the thin material of my blouse, and his smirk got bigger. I flushed in humiliation.

I made a frustrated, angry sound in my throat and marched away from Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer.

I went up to my room and took a quick shower, calming down from my lobby run-in. When I felt level-headed again, I got out and changed into my brand new black bikini and white, crochet cover-up, before heading out to the pool. My conference didn't officially start until the next morning and so I planned on spending several hours lying in the sun, reading and relaxing. The life of a law student didn't leave a lot of room for R&R and so I was going to take advantage of it while I could.

It took me about twenty minutes to simply walk through the pool area and decide where I wanted to sit. There were five pool courtyards, luxurious cabanas, umbrellas over plush seating, and rows of lounges–all with the same Mediterranean design. It was breathtaking and I tried my best not to walk through with my mouth hanging open at all the opulence. I'd never in my life seen anything like it.

My dad was a police officer and a single parent, who raised me and my two sisters on his own after he and my mom divorced. We never wanted for anything, but we certainly didn't have the money to vacation. In fact, until I left for college, I had never been out of Dayton, Ohio, where I grew up.

After getting a drink at the bar, I finally parked myself on a lounger with some shade and started lathering my pale skin up with sunscreen. It was June and it was in the nineties, and I had been holed up in libraries and classrooms for months–I would definitely burn if I wasn't careful.

I sat back and pulled out my book and had just read a couple pages when my phone rang. "Abby" came up on my screen. I hit answer.

"If you saw where I was right now, you'd be so jealous," I said, grinning.

She laughed. "Well, hello. If you saw where I was, you so wouldn't be jealous. I won't make you guess–couch, an itchy, calamine-spotted vision of loveliness." Poor Abby had gotten poison ivy while hiking with her boyfriend, Brian. It was bad.

She went on, "Now you, let me see, I smell coconut and I hear the gentle lapping of chlorinated water–poolside with a drink in hand?"

I laughed. "Bingo."

"But wait, what is that? What is that I see? A textbook in your hands instead of a steamy romance? The horror. Please tell me I'm wrong."

I looked down at the large textbook in my lap, Concepts & Insights Series: Administrative Law. "Oh stop, you know that I have to study this weekend if I'm going to ace this summer course. Anyway, this place, Abs, it's outrageous. Truly. We have to come back here and stay for longer than a weekend. And make sure it's a non-working weekend, okay?"

"Hmmm. The reality of getting you away for a weekend that doesn’t involve work? I’m skeptical. But a girl can dream. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? The debauchery sky's the limit–I’m in."

I laughed again. "Right. Speaking of which, there's another conference at this hotel. You'll never guess what it's for."

"What? Do tell."

I looked around quickly to make sure no one was listening in on my call and then mentally shook my head at myself. This was Vegas, no one was going to blink when I said the word 'porn.' Still, I whispered out, "A porn convention."

Abby let out a loud guffaw. "Oh my God, Grace, you've gotta get me some autographs. Please!"

"What?! Whose autograph do you want exactly?"

"No one in particular! I just want to be able to say a porn star wrote a note to me!"

I giggled. "Actually, I ran into one in the hotel lobby. Literally. He was a total asshat."

"Why? What'd he say to you?"

"Ugh. Just made some disgusting sexual innuendos and then gave me a look that made me want to shower."

Abby laughed again. "Was he a greasy-looking Ron Jeremy type?"

I paused. "Actually, no, he was a douchebag, for sure, but, well," I lowered my voice to a whisper, "he was hot. I actually didn't know porn stars were hot. I guess I figured if you were doing a job like that… I don't even know what I thought. But he is not what I pictured a porn star to look like."

"Why, Grace, I do believe you're blushing."

"Oh shut up, you can't even see me."

"I know you girl, you're blushing. Now get off this phone and go find you some hot porn star. I bet he could teach you some new tricks up in your hotel room tonight."

I groaned. "Oh God, gross, Abby. I wouldn't touch a porn star with a borrowed body. Especially one with as few brain cells as him."

"You're no fun."

"When it comes to porn stars, no, I'm not." I laughed. "Seriously, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Brian's coming over in a little bit and we're gonna see how sexy we can get using nothing except our privates and our feet–the only places I'm not covered."

I laughed out loud. "Oh God, did I need that visual? Okay, have fun. I'll see you Sunday, okay?"

I heard the grin in her voice as she said, "Okay, babe, talk tomorrow."

"Bye, Abs," I said, still smiling, and hung up the phone.

I spent a couple hours at the pool, finishing my studying and taking notes so that I could review them on the plane home. Even though I was doing schoolwork, just sitting out in this gorgeous location felt luxurious and decadent. I never did things like this. I had been pushing myself like crazy for the last five years and I barely had time to breathe, much less sit by a pool for an afternoon. First, I had had my head in a book for four years through college, pushing myself to graduate magna cum laude and get a scholarship to one of the top law schools on my list. Once that was accomplished and I started at Georgetown, I began pushing myself yet again–only this time it was because my goal was to graduate in two years, take and pass the bar on my first try, and be recruited into a top law firm in Washington, D.C. It was The Plan. I’d always had a plan, and I never strayed from it. Never.

As I lounged, my mind went to Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer, several times. It still irked me that he had frazzled me so much. And in only about two minutes! What was that about anyway? No one frazzled me. I was un-frazzle-able. I was frazzle-less. I prided myself on being cool, calm and collected. And suddenly, a porn star who looked at me lasciviously had me stuttering and stammering and running for safety? It was beyond irritating. And the fact that he had turned me on was completely maddening. Seriously, Grace, is that how desperate you are? That a good-looking porn star whispers a few sexual, completely disrespectful sentences to you and your panties are wet? God! I lay back on my lounge chair, frowning and squinting up into the blue Nevada sky. I put my sunglasses on and closed my eyes.

After a little bit, I got up and started to gather my things. My shoulders had a definite pink tinge and I needed to get inside and start thinking about dinner plans. I decided that a cocktail before heading up to my room sounded really good. I had only had the one drink when I arrived at the pool and I was hot and thirsty. A drink at the inside bar sounded like just the thing, and so I pulled on the sundress I had put in my bag and I made my way to the hotel bar. As I walked through the casino for the third time that day, I still couldn't help looking around in wonder at all the different game tables and machines, lights and numbers flashing everywhere. The combined sounds of laughter, multiple, overlapping machine dings, clicking, and shuffling, overwhelmed me. It was like being in another world.

I sighed in pleasure as I walked into the cool, quiet, elegant lounge area. It wasn’t very crowded for a late Friday afternoon. But people were probably still out by the pool or getting ready for dinner.

I took a seat at the bar and when the bartender came over and put a napkin down in front of me, I ordered a margarita on the rocks, no salt. I took a deep breath and joined my hands in front of me at the bar, smiling a contented smile.

“No salt?” a voice a couple stools down said. “Who orders a margarita with no salt?”

The smile left my face and I swiveled my head and stared at the man sitting to my left. Seriously? “Why, if it isn’t Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer,” I said. I groaned inwardly. No, no, this is good, Grace. You've been given another chance to heal your wounded pride. Come out of this exchange on top–so to speak. Gah.

He was looking at me strangely, waiting for me to say something, a look on his face that was amused, yet watchful.

I raised an eyebrow before saying, “If you’re considering telling me you’ve got something for me that’s nice and salty, please hold yourself back.” I turned as the bartender placed my drink in front of me. I took a long sip.

Carson chuckled and before I knew it, he was moving down the bar with his beer in hand to sit right next to me. I turned to glare at him as he said, “What I was going to say, Buttercup, was that you’re really missing out ordering a margarita without the salt. It’s all about licking the salt off the rim and then sucking the sweet liquid through the straw. The contrast of sweet and salty on your tongue is so, so good.” He leaned closer to me as he lowered his voice. “Try it once, just once.”

Okay, now he was just trying to get a rise out of me. And why? What exactly had I done to this man? I narrowed my eyes further, even angrier at the fact that his words were turning me on–again. My traitorous body liked his damn, deep sugary voice and purposefully titillating words. Stupid body! I might never have sex again, just to punish her and her non-sensical, whorish reactions.

“Let me buy you one,” he said, the corners of his lips rising. "Seriously. Just one drink my way. You can do a taste test and see who's right. We can get to know each other a little better." He winked.

I turned my body, facing him fully now and taking a deep breath. Before I started, I smiled sweetly. "I'm going to lay it out straight for you here, Carson. And the reason that I'm going to do that is because I have every confidence that it will scare you off badly enough that I can then finish my drink in peace, and we can part as acquaintances who simply have nothing in common."

He raised one eyebrow and I joined my hands in my lap, tilting my head as I continued.

"I'm the kind of girl who wants to get married in a big, white dress, wearing my grandma's pearls. I want a husband who loves me and is faithful to me. I want him to come home to me every night, and I don't want to have to worry if he's doing his secretary, because he's the kind of man who has too much honor to do that. I want to wait a year and then I want to start trying for the two kids that we'll eventually have, a girl and a boy. And when we have those kids, I do not want, one day, to have to look in their little faces and explain why their daddy is on the internet having relations with everyone from College Honeys to Cougars Gone Wild for money. I want to throw a cartoon themed birthday party at a jump house for my six year old, not mark the occasion by explaining what a "money shot" is. I have a feeling your life goals are somewhat different than mine. And by 'somewhat,' I mean, utterly and completely. Does that explain why it would be a waste of time for both of us to continue being in each other's presence?"

He was thoughtful for a minute, turning back to the bar and taking a drink of his beer. Finally, he turned to me. "How did we make those two kids?"

My brow furrowed. "Uh, you might want to re-think your career choice if you don't know–"

"What I mean is, what position did we make our two kids in? Doggy Style? Backwards Cowgirl? The Garfield? Flying Circus? Butterfly? Table Lotus? Bended Knee?"

My mouth fell open. I put my hand up and said, "Stop! Okay, first of all, I have no idea what some of those are, nor do I want to know. But secondly, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, believe me, you want to know. Why it matters is because someday when Princess is screaming at three in the morning with a loaded diaper, or Junior gets expelled from preschool for punching his classmate, I want to be able to think back to the moment that we created them, and I want to smile and remember why it was the best fuck of my life, and why whatever shit–literal and figurative–I have to deal with later on, is worth it."

My mouth dropped open against my will. "You're disgusting."

"You're the one who had my baby. Twice."

"I did not, nor will I ever have your baby. That was my point."

"So you're just going to abandon Princess and Junior? Nice mom."

I stood up, throwing a ten-dollar bill on the bar. "Done. You enjoy your drink, Carson Stinger. I look forward to seeing you again, um, never." And with that, I grabbed my purse, turned tail and started walking away as Carson called out, "Also, babe, you play hot secretary for me when I get home at the end of the day, and I'll have no need to do my real one."

I raised my arm and flipped him off. I heard his throaty chuckle from behind, but I kept walking.

Carson

I heard the slap of her flip-flops fade away and took another swig of my beer. Uptight, little brat. Hot, uptight, little brat, but a brat nonetheless. I knew her type. She could get all indignant, stick that haughty little chin in the air, tell me why she was better than me, and walk away, but I saw the way her body reacted. She wanted me. Most women did, if I was going to be honest. Everyone was given one gift or another–mine was a smile women creamed their panties over and a body to match. Why be humble about it? It's not like I could take any credit–I just knew how to use my God-given assets. The girl though, Grace Hamilton–I'd seen it on her luggage tag–she'd never let herself indulge, not knowing what I did for a living anyway. But just the fact that her body responded should have been enough for me. So why didn't that thought make me happy? It usually did. So what was different here? I downed the last of my beer and frowned at the display of bottles behind the bar, trying to solve the riddle.

It had been the strangest thing. I was walking to the front desk to leave a message for my agent who was flying in from L.A. the next morning, and I had crashed into someone, her blonde head colliding into my chest, just under my chin, and I was able to smell her clean, flowery-scented hair, gathered up in one of those twists.

As she had looked up at me, flustered and breathless, my own breath almost hitched in my chest at the beauty of the heart-shaped face gazing back. She had the biggest, blue eyes I had ever seen, a cute little nose, and the prettiest damn mouth–full, light pink lips with a pretty bow shape on top. Sure, she was pretty, beautiful even. But I saw pretty girls all day long. Why did one glance at this one have me staring, trying to memorize her face like a lovesick schoolboy? I had no damn clue. We had both paused before moving back from each other, and I took in her slim body in a fitted, black skirt and a silky, white blouse. I loved that look. Hot schoolteacher. I had looked into her face and I could see a slightly confused warmth shining from her crystal clear eyes. In that gaze, I had almost forgotten who I was. Almost. And that never happened.

But then her eyes had moved down to that stupid nametag I had forgotten to take off, and I saw the disappointment and judgment fill her expression. And so I had purposefully made her uncomfortable, and I had enjoyed the look of disgust and then anger that filled her pretty face. I had enjoyed the way she stomped away from me, shaking her sweet, little ass. I had just done it again in the bar for the same reason. It meant I had won, so why didn't I feel like a winner? Why was I still sitting here actively thinking about it? About her? It was completely pissing me off. What I needed to do was fuck that feeling away–whatever that feeling was. The one I'd had since I'd run into her in the lobby. I should probably go and find some willing female to come back up to my room with me for an hour or two. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

My phone rang as I was putting the money for my drink on the bar and I looked at the screen. "Hey, Courtney," I said, walking out.

"Hey Carson, love, you all set for Monday morning? I have the address of the shoot and some details. I'm gonna send them to your email. Can you pull it up on your phone?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll let you know when I get it."

"Okay, good. It's at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. A balcony shoot, followed by a shower scene."

I groaned. "Shit, Courtney, I'll only have done five films, and two of them have shower scenes? I told you I hated the first one."

"Oh please. Am I supposed to feel badly for you that you get to do Bambi Bennett in a shower? Poor thing." I could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Shit, it's awkward–there are two cameramen and a mic in that tiny space. From where I'm standing, it's not hot. Also, Bambi Bennett? Christ. Am I fucking a deer?"

"I know. It's a stupid name. She's new to the site. Look her up. She's all kinds of gorgeous. Lucky you. Kisses! Text me when you get the info." And with that she hung up.

Courtney owned the site I had recently signed a contract with–ArtLove.com. It was supposed to appeal mostly to women, the largest growing porn-watching demographic. Most of the shoots were in exotic locations and we were encouraged to look like we were really into each other–different than the wham, bam, thank you ma'am type of porn that men tended to like. The first shoot I had done was in Belize in an outdoor shower and despite what it might have seemed like to the viewer, I was just hoping I could stay hard through it. A film crew of sweaty dudes all up in your business wasn't exactly a wet dream come true, no matter how gorgeous the girl was.

Apparently, though, after only a couple films, I had a small fan following. And so my agent had all but insisted I show up this weekend to make an appearance. I had stayed at the meet-and-greet bullshit for as long as I could stomach, and then I'd snuck out and run straight into Miss High and Mighty. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate my fans… or rather, I guess I tried not to think about my fans too much because let's be honest, they admired me for reasons that made me think it was better that I not shake their hands.

I started toward the elevators, intending on going up to my room and changing for the pool. It was the easiest place to pick up a girl, one who didn't care to know who I was or what I did–and the feeling would be mutual.

"Whoa, hold the elevator," I called as I spotted one going up, doors just starting to close. I flashed my room key to the security guard standing at the front of the alcove.

An old woman stuck her purse out, and the doors bounced back open and I jogged to it, thanking her and turning toward the front.

"The Lord is testing me," I heard a quiet voice whisper under her breath. I glanced to my left and two people over to see who had muttered those words, and there stood Grace "White Wedding" Hamilton. Go figure. I chuckled softly to myself at her tight expression over the fact that I was even sharing her space.

I leaned forward and grinned at her. I could tell that she saw me in her peripheral vision by the way her spine straightened, but she continued to stare straight ahead at the door in front of us.

The old lady standing next to Grace leaned around her and grinned back at me, waving a flirty, little wave. It was cute and so I laughed and waved back. Grace's head swiveled to me and her eyes widened as we made eye contact, me still smiling. Then just as quickly, she turned to look straight ahead again.

The elevator stopped at several floors and began to empty out, and pretty soon, it was just me and Grace and the old lady. We all stood quietly, staring straight ahead.

At the next floor, the old lady moved to the front and Grace and I both automatically stepped backwards to let her pass. As the old lady walked out the open doors, she turned and winked at me and then turned and winked at Grace too. I looked over at Grace, and her head was tilted, a small smile on her pretty, pink lips as she watched the doors close again.

Then she glanced at me, and the smile was replaced with a frown.

"You know…" I started to say, but my voice trailed off as the lights in the elevator flashed, and we felt a huge jolt, to which Grace let out a small squeak and I let out a "Holy shit!"

The elevator slammed to a stop, groaning loudly, and the lights flickered. I looked across the small space into wide, terrified eyes. We were stuck.

CHAPTER 2

Grace

As the elevator groaned to a stop and the lights flickered one more time, I felt fear wash over me. I didn't like small spaces. Not at all. It stemmed back to–well, it stemmed back to something I didn't like to think about. I took a deep breath and practically threw myself at the phone cubby, yanking open the small metal door and pulling the handle off the phone. I pressed zero and as it rang, my eyes darted to Carson who was standing in the corner, leaned against the wall, watching me carefully.

"Maintenance," a gruff voice said.

"Hi, hi! Yes, hi, this is Grace Hamilton. I'm a guest here this weekend. We're stuck in an elevator. It just stopped suddenly and…" My words trailed off as I heard the phone reception crackle and then die. I made a panicked sound in my throat and took three big steps over to my large purse, abandoned in the corner. I pulled out my phone and looked at the bars at the top of the screen. No service. Shit!

I looked over at Carson again and he was still staring at me, unmoving, just watching me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't just stand there! We're trapped! Do something!" My breath hitched in my throat and I could feel my heart beating harshly in my chest. I lifted my fingers to my throat and felt my pulse racing wildly. I attempted to take a deep breath, but my throat suddenly felt as if it was swelling shut. I couldn't breathe. Oh God, I couldn't breathe.

I stumbled back against the wall, making eye contact with Carson who now had his brow furrowed as he moved toward me. I gripped the bar on the wall behind me, knowing I was about to die of asphyxiation, here in this elevator, the last eyes I saw those of Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer. Oh no, no, no, no. Not like this.

"Hey, calm down, Buttercup," he said calmly, gripping both my arms just like he did when we collided in the hotel lobby. "Deep breath, take a deep breath. You're okay. They're going to get us out of here, all right? Just take a deep breath. Keep your eyes on me."

My eyes blinked rapidly as his face swam in front of me, my breath now coming out in raspy exhales as I fought to take in oxygen.

"Shit, Buttercup, come on, you're not going to pass out on me in this elevator. Deep breath."

For several minutes we both stared into each other's eyes, the worry in his deepening as he watched me struggle.

Oh God, Oh God, air, air!

He stepped away from me and started looking around the elevator, eyes wide, panicked now, searching for what, I didn't know. He flew over to the phone and picked it up and listened for a second, and then slammed it back in its small box and kicked the door shut. "Shit!"

I'm dying. Oh God, please, air.

He turned back to me, and my eyes were tearing up in my effort to take in what little oxygen was making it down the tiny passageway that was now the inside of my throat. I was sure I was turning blue.

"Sister Christian, oh the time has come!" Carson suddenly belted out.

Even in the midst of my panic attack, I startled. What the–

"And you know that you're the only one to say, okay."

He took a step back as my eyes followed him, my breath still sticking in my swollen throat as I struggled to draw in air

He pointed at me. "Where you going, what you looking for?"

What the hell is he doing? What the HELL is he doing? Oh! A little air. That's good, that's good, Grace.

"You know those boys don't want to play no more with you. It's true." At the last two words of the stanza, he lowered his chin and gazed into my eyes.

Better, better. More air, better. Okay, okay. I'm okay. Why is he singing while I'm almost dying here? He actually has a really nice voice–deep and slightly throaty. Figures he'd have a really nice voice. Figures he'd have a SEXY voice. Ah, air. Okay, I'm okay.

My breathing slowed marginally and I realized that the instrumental of "Sister Christian" was playing over the sound system. Carson was singing along to the elevator music. And doing it well. To distract me from my panic attack. And it was working.

I took in a large inhale of air, my vision clearing as I now watched him. He was in the middle of the elevator and as what would have been the drum solo came up, he started playing the air drums furiously, closing his eyes and bobbing his head to the beat, biting his lower lip.

"You're motoring! What's your price for flight? In finding Mister Right? You'll be all right, tonight."

I couldn't help it, I let out a very small laugh. When he heard it, his eyes snapped open and he looked up at me, and relief washed over his features before he grinned. It was the same grin that had almost knocked me on my ass when he gave it to the old lady. It was real. And something inside of me knew that that was rare.

His smile turned serious and he walked toward me singing slowly, "Babe you know you're growing up so fast. And mama's worrying that you won't last to say, let's play."

As he finished the last few words, he held his fist up to his lips, pretending it was a microphone and then he thrust it in front of my mouth.

I blinked at him for a minute, but now adrenaline was racing through my body at the sweet relief of air flowing freely into my lungs, and so I did something I'd never, under ordinary circumstances do–I grabbed his fist and sang into it, "Sister Christian, there's so much in life. Don't you give it up before your time is due, it's true." Then he leaned in and we were both singing together, "It's true, yeah!" He jumped back and played more air drums before jumping forward again and singing into his fist with me. "Motoring! What's your price for flight? You've got him in your sight. And driving through the night."

Our faces were mere inches apart now and I could smell his minty breath as he sang with me, "Motoring! What's your price for flight? In finding Mister Right? You'll be all right tonight."

He stepped away from me again and this time, mimicked the electric guitar solo, moving his hips forward with every pretend riff, swiveling them to the chords as I watched, laughing out loud now at his ridiculous antics.

He grinned back at me as he continued singing the chorus, a couple times over. Then as the song slowed, he started walking slowly to me again singing, "Sister Christian, oh the time has come. And you know that you're the only one to say, okay. But you're motoring. You're motoring, yeah." He trailed off as we both stood staring at each other, his breathing harsher than mine now from all the furious air playing. I was breathing steady and even as his chest quickly rose and fell. The bizarre nature of the situation hit me and I burst out laughing, and then so did he. As our laughter faded, he tilted his head to the side and said, "If you wanted to hear me sing, Buttercup, you could have just asked."

I smiled and nodded and then looked at him seriously. "Thank you for that. Who knew Night Ranger could cure a panic attack? But it worked. Thank you." I took a big, deep breath.

He nodded at me, smiling too.

Then both of our heads swiveled to the phone as it started ringing.

Carson grabbed the phone. "Hello!"

I stared at him, eyes wide, as he spoke into the receiver.

After listening for a minute, he groaned. "That long? Isn't there anything that can be done to get that part here more quickly?" He listened for another minute. "Yeah, okay. Keep us updated, all right?" Then he hung up.

"What'd they say?" I demanded.

"Well, the good news is that they know we're in here, they know the problem, and the part to fix it is on its way. The bad news is that it's two hours away."

"Two hours?" I screeched. I took a deep breath. "Two hours?" I said, more calmly. "We have to sit in here together for two hours?"

"Afraid so," he said, walking to the wall and sliding down it to sit on the floor with his feet drawn up and his forearms resting on his knees.

I stared at him for a minute and then walked to my side of the elevator. I sat down on the floor as well, bending my knees to the side, glancing over at him and pulling my sundress down over my legs, all the way to my ankles. I looked back up at Carson and his eyes lifted from my legs to my eyes. I saw the small frown on his face right before his expression went blank and he raised his eyebrows, smiling suggestively. "A lot of things to do in two hours, Buttercup. Any ideas?"

And he was back. Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer. I cocked my head to the side, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Why do you do that?" I asked.

He pulled his teeth over his lower lip, looking bored. "Do what exactly?"

"Pull that 'sex in your face'… mask on?"

He stared at me thoughtfully for a minute. "Mask? A mask would imply that I'm hiding something beneath it. What would that be exactly?"

I looked to the side and shrugged. "The guy who just made a crazy fool of himself singing 'Sister Christian' to me to help me cope with a bad situation?"

He chuckled. "I just did what was necessary so that you didn't die on me. If I'm gonna be stuck in an elevator, better that it's not with a corpse. I'm into a lot of crazy shit, but necrophilia isn't one of them."

I made a gagging sound. "God, you're really…" I bit my lip for a minute, thinking. "No, you know what? I'm not buying it. I call your bluff, Carson Stinger. You're a phony." I studied my nails.

He laughed, looking truly amused. "Well, who exactly do you think you are, Buttercup? You know me so well after being with me for what," he looked down at the watch on his wrist, "fifteen minutes?"

I sighed. "You're right. I don't know anything about you. Just that you're a phony, that's all. Call it a gut feeling."

He stared at me for a minute, narrowing his eyes again and tensing his jaw. He slid his long, muscular legs down, and crossed them at the ankles as he continued to stare at me. "What I think, is that you're into me. And you're trying to make me the good, sensitive guy that I'm not, so that when you slide across this elevator and climb onto my lap, you'll be able to justify it in your mind."

I choked on my own laugh and sat up on my knees to glare at him. "You arrogant asshole! The only way I would crawl anywhere for you is if my very life depended on it." I glared at him for a minute and then fell back onto my haunches. I pointed at him. "Wait. You did it to me again. See, that's the mask. You made me angry so that I'd forget my point. Which is… you're a phony."

He laughed. "Still on that, Dr. Phil? Okay, then, what about you, Miss Perfect Princess? What are you hiding behind that hair pulled back so tightly it's about to strangle you and that high and mighty attitude?"

"High and mighty?" I scoffed. "I'm hardly high and mighty. And I'm hardly perfect either."

"Oh, I don't know. I think that's exactly what you are–perfect. Why? Why do you need to be so damn perfect? What has you strung so tight that as soon as you lost control, you couldn't even breathe? What's under your mask?"

I laughed out loud, over-doing it to show him how ridiculous he was. "My mask? Please. Now you're just making stuff up to distract me. What you see is what you get here, Carson. I hardly wear a mask. Now you…"

He looked at me for a minute, eyes both thoughtful and wary. "All right, Buttercup. I've got a proposition for you. How'd you like to play a little game? It's called, 'Sink one for a Secret.' It's not like we've got much else to do. Especially if you planting yourself on my lap is off the table."

I groaned. "It was never on the table. What exactly does this 'Sink one for a Secret' game entail?"

He sat up. "Do you have anything in your purse like a cup, or a bowl or something?"

I laughed and raised one eyebrow. "No. That's not exactly stuff I carry around in my purse." I opened my large bag and looked inside. "Wait–what about the top of my hairspray?" I pulled it off. It was plastic and roughly the size of a Dixie cup. I held it out to Carson.

"That'll work," he said, snatching it out of my hand. He reached his hand in his back pocket and pulled out a dime and held it up to me. Then he placed the hairspray cap in one corner of the elevator and went and stood in the opposite corner. "The rules are, if one person sinks the dime into the cap, the other person has to reveal a secret about themselves. No lying. No making something up. A genuine, true secret–something they've never told anyone else before."

I crossed my arms over my chest, biting my lip. I looked from the cap in one corner, to Carson in the other. "That's an impossible shot. The distance, and the size of the cap. It can't be done."

He raised one brow. "Are you in, or not?"

I exhaled. "Fine. Whatever. Go."

He paused. "Wait. Do you agree to the rules?"

"Yes, yes, a 'basket' for a secret. I'm in." I knew it was impossible, and so why not? I'd play his game.

He held the dime up, lining up his shot, moving to the right slightly, a look of pure concentration on his face as he tossed the dime overhand. It went straight in the cup, didn't even bounce. A solid dunk. What. The. Hell?

I gasped. "You cheated! That's not even possible!"

Carson laughed. "I cheated? How in the hell did I cheat? No way. Don’t try to get out of this. You owe me a secret, Buttercup. Let's hear it." He leaned his shoulder against the elevator wall, crossed his arms and tilted his chin down, looking expectantly at me.

I glared at him. "I mean, it's not as easy as that! I don't have any secrets." I raised both arms up and let them drop.

He kept looking at me, not saying a word, expressionless now. "Tell me why you're so perfect, Buttercup."

I made a disgusted gurgle in the back of my throat and crossed my arms again, looking away from him. I thought about what he was asking me. Did I really come across like that? Perfect? I felt the furthest away from perfect as a person could get. I was always trying not to rock the boat… trying to be enough… trying to make up for…

"My dad has had enough disappointment in his life. I'm just trying not to disappoint him," I blurted out.

Carson tilted his head, his eyes filling with… something. I looked away. "Anyway, that's all. My dad's had a hard time of it. I just want him to be proud of me. Is that so weird?"

"What disappointment has your dad had?" he asked quietly.

I stared at the wall for a minute, suddenly, inexplicably, wanting to say what came next. "When I was eleven, my little brother died of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. He was the only boy. I have two sisters." I looked down at my nails, studying them. "My dad is a cop… a real guy's guy. I guess me and my sisters always felt like maybe… like maybe…"

"Like maybe one of you were expendable because there were back-ups?" Carson asked quietly.

My eyes snapped up to his and I just stared at him for several seconds. I had never thought about it in those terms but… "Maybe. Yes."

He nodded, still looking into my eyes. Then he walked over to the cap in the corner, plucked the dime out and held it up to me. "Your turn."

Carson

My throat had gone dry and I felt a strange itchiness just under my skin when Grace told me about her brother and her dad. I didn't really stop and think about the feeling. I had never really talked about emotions with anyone other than my granny. But she had passed away when I was seventeen and since then, I didn't go there much. I had initially suggested this game to take Grace off balance. I could throw a dime into a cup from further away than across an elevator. I had hours and hours of practice. It's what I had done to distract my mind while waiting for my mom to get off set.

But then she had actually shared with me and just like that, I was the one off balance.

I handed her the dime and stood back as she glanced at me and took her place in the opposite corner from the small cap and lined up her shot, underhand.

I studied her as she focused. Damn, she really was a beautiful girl. Sexy, but with a classic beauty that made me want to stare at the perfection of her features. She was slim, but had curves in all the right spots. Just exactly what I liked. I could tell she would be just as pretty stepping straight out of a shower in the morning, without a stitch of makeup on. I twitched in my pants at the image. Shit, this I did not need. I bit my own tongue to distract myself from thoughts of Grace stepping out of a shower, just as she let the dime fly. My head turned to watch it land with a plunk straight in the cap.

I laughed out loud as she whooped and threw her arms in the air in a victory pose. Wait, shit, this was not funny. Only, the look of pure excitement on her face made me want to scoop her up and hug her. Until I remembered that I don't hug. Anyone. Ever.

I sighed and tried to look as bored as possible. "All right. What is it you want to know about me?"

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes and scraped her teeth up her full bottom lip in a way that had me biting my own tongue again.

She walked back to her side of the elevator and slid down to the floor, pulling her legs up and covering them with her sundress like she had done before. I waited.

"A secret that you've never told anyone else, right?"

I nodded.

"Okay, why do you do porn?"

I laughed. "The answer to that question isn't exactly a secret. It's fun and it pays great."

She furrowed her delicate brows and stared at me for a minute. "Why do you really do porn, Carson?" she asked.

I chuckled. "Not everyone who does porn has some screwed up childhood and dark past. The industry is a lot different than it used to be. There are all kinds of safety measures in place…"

She continued looking up at me silently.

I sighed and slid down to the floor. Was I really even considering going there with this stranger? This princess? I sat staring straight at the wall for a minute or two and then almost against my own will, I started talking, "My mom was a porn star in the eighties. From what I know, it doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's taken care of pretty quickly–she got pregnant. She decided not to have it taken care of. I’m the bastard of any one of a hundred hired dicks. How do you like that fairytale, Buttercup?"

Her eyes widened and her lips formed a silent o. We stared at each other for a quiet minute. "That doesn't explain why you do it now too."

I laughed. "I was practically born to do it, babe. Created in lust and sin. Destined to do the same."

"It's not your fault how you were–" And fuck me if those big, blue eyes weren't filled with pity. I felt something inside me squeeze in a way that I didn't fucking like at all.

"No, and it's not your fault you have a pretty little mouth, but maybe if you crawl over here, we can both use our God-given assets to make the next few hours go by a little faster." I raised my eyebrows.

She stared at me, her cheeks flushing. "That's why you do that. You pull that sex-on-a-stick, asshole mask on to hide the fact that you're ashamed of who you are."

I laughed out loud. "There's my little Dr. Phil again. Tell me, where did you get your clinical psychology degree from? Oh, that's right. The University of Bullshit. Tell me this, Buttercup, are you as good at diagnosing yourself? Do you realize that that perfect princess gig you have going on is all an attempt to make up for the fact that you believe you should have been the one to die instead of your brother? But guess what? Your brother did die. And all the perfect princess crap in the world won't change that."

She sucked in a loud gasp, her eyes filling with hurt. I immediately felt like shit. "You bastard!" she hissed, getting up on her knees and "walking" on them toward me, anger almost instantly replacing the hurt I had first seen flash in her eyes.

I got up on my knees too, the bastard comment making my chest tight. She had used my own word against me and I didn't like the way that felt. "Prude," I hissed back.

"Man-whore!"

"Oh, real inventive, Ice queen!"

We met in the middle of the elevator, both on our knees, her neck bent to stare up at me, rage etched across her features. I knew my expression said the same thing.

"Piece of ass!"

"Sell out."

She balled her fists up and straightened both of her arms at her side, making a frustrated, angry growling sound. I leaned in slightly, daring her to hit me.

And suddenly we were kissing. Hard core, angry kissing, our hands everywhere, groping and grabbing. And damn it if she didn't taste like sunshine and everything sweet and fresh this world had to offer.

CHAPTER 3

Grace

We groped at each other's bodies, moaning and panting and practically crazed with anger and lust. Or was it just anger? No, no, anger didn't feel this good. My body was on fire, every nerve ending zinging with the need to be touched by Carson. Oh God, I was being touched by Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer! No! Yes! Yes! Yes! Three yes's to one no. Majority rules! God, he tasted so good. He tasted minty and like something that was just him. After one small taste, I was already craving it, sweeping my tongue around his mouth trying to get as much of it as I could, desperate with hunger for it. For him. He seemed just as desperate to taste me as his tongue tangled with mine, and his hands grabbed my ass and pulled me up hard against his erection. Oh God, he was big. Really big. And I was rubbing on him like some crazed cat in heat. A crazed cat in heat that had gotten a hold of some crack. Or catnip… or whatever notched up the level of a crazed cat in heat. That was me.

Meow!

I suddenly realized Carson was pulling me up to a standing position, and I followed him willingly, our lips never once breaking contact. He walked us backwards to the wall and when my back hit solid surface, he pressed up against me, a growl coming up his chest. He let go of me and I heard both of his hands hit the wall next to either side of my head as he caged me in. He kept working my mouth, licking and sucking my tongue as he pressed into me again, groaning once more. The sounds he was making and the feel of the wall against me, anchoring me, cleared the lust fog just a little. Oh my God, this was crazy. What was I doing? A couple minutes before, we had both been tearing each other apart–how did this happen? Sure he was great at what he was doing with his mouth and his body but that was because he was a professional! Oh my God! He's a professional! He's good at this because he does it a lot. As in a lot, a lot. Again, what in the hell was I doing? I opened my eyes and seeing his face millimeters from mine, his eyes closed and his long lashes fanned over his cheeks, brought me fully back to reality. I made a strangled sound in my throat and tore my mouth off of his, turning my head and putting both my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me. He stepped back, looking dazed, and we both stared into each other's eyes, panting.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he finally said.

"For what?" I asked, angrily, "the insults or the kissing?"

"The insults. Not sorry for the kissing."

I blinked. And damn it if, even though I was still angry, more so at myself now, a part of me wanted to dive right back in to the kissing part.

I shook my head slightly, clearing away the last of the fog. We're in an elevator. He's a porn star. We just told each other a secret, and then viciously threw it right back.

I laughed a small, humorless laugh and looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. I looked back down at Carson and he was staring at me, a look of confusion on his face. He raised one eyebrow. "What's funny?"

I turned and sat down, banging the back of my head against the wall lightly. He came over and sat against the back wall of the elevator, directly to my right, drawing his knees up and resting his forearms on them again.

I groaned. "Us. We're awful people. We each shared a secret, and then used it against each other within five minutes flat." I shook my head and looked over at him. "I'm sorry too."

He took a deep breath and looked down for a minute before bringing those beautiful hazel eyes back to me. "No, that was me. I made the rules and then I attacked you instead of playing by them graciously. I was a sore loser." He looked truly repentant.

I pursed my lips and tilted my head, surprised at his response. I shook my head slightly again. "That game had high stakes." I paused. "How about if we just talk for a little bit?"

A grin spread over his face, that little dimple showing itself, and the true beauty of him momentarily stunned me. I tilted my head. "Why aren't you a model or an actor or something? You have the looks for it."

He chuckled. "I know."

I laughed. "Modest, too, aren't ya?"

"I don't need to be modest. I didn't do anything to earn this face. It just is what it is."

I snorted. "Just when I was kinda starting to like you again."

"Does you liking me translate into more kissing?" He grinned again, shooting me that devastating smile.

"No. Now tell me why you don't model instead of… what you're doing."

"Let people primp me and put make-up on me for hours and then pose in front of them? God, that sounds a thousand times worse than porn. Shit."

"Worse than porn? So you don't like doing it then?"

He stared at me for a minute and I could see his wheels turning, but with what, I didn't know. Finally he said, "Truthfully, no, I don't like doing porn."

"Why?" I asked quietly.

"Because I like to fuck the way I want to fuck. I don't like being told what to do or moved around like a chess piece in bed. Part of the high of sex for a man is the chase. There's no chase in porn. And before you get mad, I'm not trying to push your buttons with that wording. I'm just being honest. I don't find it enjoyable. I mean beyond–"

"Right," I interrupted, "sex is like pizza and all that." I studied him for a minute. "How'd you get into it?" I finally asked.

He sighed. "Well, like I said, I kinda grew up in the business. My mom used to bring me on set with her. Not that I watched. I stayed in the dressing room, but I knew what she was doing out there and it sucked. Pun intended." He grinned, but I didn't. I just felt sad.

He stared at me for a minute, his eyes narrowing briefly. I thought he might not continue, but then he began speaking again, "Anyway, my mom had always had a little bit of a drug problem and when I was fourteen, it got pretty bad. I went to live with my grandma in Massachusetts until my mom got clean, and then I came back to Los Angeles."

"That's where you're from?"

"Yeah. The City of Angels." He raised his eyebrows, looking away thoughtfully for a second before continuing. "Once I turned eighteen, several of the producers I knew started asking me to make a film. They said it'd get big-time attention. The son of one of the biggest stars of porn, now doing films himself. I said no for a while. I wasn't interested. When my granny died, she left me a little bit of money. Not a lot, but enough to travel around Europe for a couple years. When I came back, I worked at some menial jobs for a while–doing nothing, partying. Finally, six months ago, I was contacted by one of those same producers who now worked for a company that's a little more 'soft core.' I figured, why the fuck not? What was the big difference between that and what I was doing with women I didn't know on the weekends?"

I flinched. It all sounded so… empty. When I looked up at him, he had his head resting against the back of the elevator and he was studying me. "You a virgin, Buttercup?"

I laughed. I was just about to tell him it was none of his business, but I realized that he had just offered up intimate details of his life. It would be like me slapping him in the face to say something like that now. Truthfully, it wasn't any of his business. But what he had just shared with me wasn't my business either, and yet he had given it to me regardless. I stopped laughing and sighed. "No. I've been with one person. My college boyfriend. I plan on being with one more before I get married."

"You plan on being with one more before… okay, what?"

"Well, wait, it makes sense and I'll tell you why. I still have to finish law school. And then I have to get hired by a top law firm and work for at least a year. I don't plan on getting married until I'm twenty-eight and no one wants to marry a twenty-eight year old virgin. He'd wonder what was wrong with me. So I figure, I should be with two men before I meet my husband. One to take my virginity, check, and one to teach me enough to be a good wife in bed." I smiled, impressed with my own reasoning.

He stared at me for a beat and then burst out laughing. "Shit, that might be even less romantic than my story. And that's a feat."

I frowned. "What's not romantic about that? I'm setting things up perfectly for the man that I'll spend forever with. I'm already thinking of him, and we haven't even met yet."

"What about the poor schmuck who you pick out to be sex partner number two? Destined to be kicked to the curb before you've even met him."

I scoffed. "Please. Like guys aren't okay with a couple months of sex before they're set free to move on to the next one?"

He smiled. "Well, true. Still, what happens if you end up falling for him? What happens to your plan then?"

"Falling for him? Well, no. That won't happen because it's not part of my plan. Certainly there will have to be an attraction, but–"

"I might have the perfect candidate, Buttercup." He raised an eyebrow and then shot me that devastating grin.

I laughed. "You?" I shook my head. "That's impossible, Carson. First of all, we don't even live in the same city. And listen, how would I ever tell my future husband that I had been with a porn star? No offense. Really. But that–"

"Why would you have to give him any details? Men don't want details about their women's past sexual experience."

"I guess not. But still… wait! Are we seriously discussing this? That guy is still years away in the plan. I can't forget everything he teaches me before I meet The One. Sorry. Timing doesn't work." I grinned at him. I figured he was messing with me anyway. But it was true enough.

"So you don't plan on having any more sex for the next, what? Four years or so? How old are you?"

"Twenty-three. So yes, he's about four years away in the plan." I tilted my head and smiled.

"You're going to wait four years to have sex again because of some stupid plan?"

"It's not a stupid plan! I've always had it. It keeps me focused." I frowned. Now that I had explained my entire plan out loud, it was beginning to sound less rational than it always had in my mind. "Anyway," I went on, " it's going to help me achieve my dreams."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your dreams? You sure about that?"

I snorted. "Now who's pretending to be Dr. Phil?"

He watched me. "Okay, fair enough. Let's get back to the sex then. You're planning, purposefully on a four-year dry spell? Didn't you like it the first time?"

I felt my cheeks heat as I looked down. "Sure, it was fine."

"Fine? Uh oh. Any man who gets a 'fine' from a woman on any topic is in serious trouble."

I took a deep breath. "Listen. It was fine, okay? Not spectacular. Not terrible. Just fine." I shrugged.

He studied me for a minute. "So he didn't make you come, Buttercup?"

"Jesus! I can't believe we're discussing this. No, he didn't make me come, okay? For all I know, I can't come with another person in the room. All right? Why don't you give me your email and I'll let you know in four years if things have changed!" I banged the back of my head on the elevator wall behind me. I felt embarrassed by this line of conversation, especially considering whom I was talking to. Actually, I was feeling kind of stripped down in a lot of ways. And he was making me question things I never questioned. How had this happened exactly? With this person? I started laughing and shaking my head.

"What?" he asked.

I groaned. "I don't know. This whole situation is just… funny."

He nodded like he knew exactly what I meant. "Yeah, I guess it kinda is. All the same though, my offer stands. We could make a weekend of it, at least. I think your future husband might be really happy you said yes to me." He winked.

I studied him. "You're serious, aren't you? Why? What's in it for you exactly?"

He just raised his eyebrows, remaining silent.

I laughed softly. "I mean, don't you get enough random sex as it is?"

"Listen, consider it a challenge for me, okay? I think I could give you something no one has before and that's a hell of a turn on for me. See, we'd both get something out of it and then part ways as Buttercup and Schmuck Number Two."

I opened my mouth to answer and was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the elevator phone. Saved by the bell once again.

Carson

The phone rang a second time and I realized that I had been holding my breath waiting for her answer. I was lying to her about my reason for asking to be Schmuck Number Two. Not about thinking I could make her come. I was pretty sure I'd be successful at that. And that was a turn on. The thought of seeing an expression of pleasure wash over her beautiful face had me swelling in my jeans. But the real reason I was holding my breath for her answer was because I hadn't wanted anything in a really long time, longer than I could remember and I wanted her. Not just her body, but her. I wanted to see her reaction to my touch. I wanted to hear some more funny shit come out of her pretty mouth. I wanted to hear her try to justify her stupid plan. I liked her. And fuck me, I hadn't liked a woman in a really long time. It felt good to want something. And that shocked the hell out of me. I couldn't have her in any real sense, and it's not like I wanted that anyway. But a day or two of Grace Hamilton in a hotel room? Yeah, I wanted that. I wanted that a lot.

I got up and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Rich in maintenance, just wanted to update you and make sure you're okay. We got the part we were waiting for and now it just needs to be installed. Shouldn't be longer than an hour."

"Okay, man. Yeah, we're fine. Thanks for the update." I hung up and turned to Grace.

"Seems you're stuck with me for at least another hour."

"At least?"

"Yeah, at least. Longer if you agree to spend the weekend together." I hoped she couldn't tell that this meant something to me. If she turned me down, it was going to sting.

Her eyes widened slightly and her mouth opened as if to answer, but then she closed it again, looking confused. That's when my stomach growled. Loudly.

Grace grinned and tilted her head. "Hungry?" Before I could answer, she reached for her bag and dug around in it for a couple seconds and pulled out a granola bar. "Dinner, sir? Hold on. I think I have something here to wash it down with too." She dug around for another second and then pulled out a bottle of water."

I sat down on the floor next to her. "You're a goddess. Hand that over." I had just realized that I hadn't eaten lunch and it was just about dinnertime. I was starving. She handed me the granola bar, and I tore it open with my teeth and then broke the bar in half and handed her one piece. But she shook her head.

"You have it. I'm not really hungry. Plus, you're a growing boy." She winked at me.

"Only when I look at you, baby." I winked back and she laughed, smacking me lightly on the shoulder. I tossed the granola bar back and when she handed me the water after taking a large drink herself, I took a long sip.

"We better finish the water in this bottle. If nature calls, this bottle is what we're going to have to use."

She laughed. "I think I'll be okay for an hour. I stopped in the ladies room right after I left the bar."

I nodded. "I think I'll last too."

After a minute, I said, "Okay, another game–this one's called Quick Draw Favorites. I ask a question and you answer it with the first thing that comes to mind. Then you can do the same to me."

She looked at me suspiciously. "Is this another trick game that's going to have us kissing in the middle of the elevator again?"

"God, I hope so." I laughed. "But, no, just for fun to pass the time. You in?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"Okay. Favorite movie."

"Titanic."

"No. Pick again."

She choked on a laugh. "No? Um, I thought these were my answers."

"They are, but I can't let you pick a movie as craptastic as Titanic without intervening."

She turned fully toward me. "How is Titanic craptastic? It's an epic love story! It's beautiful! What problem do you have with Titanic?"

I sighed. "Grace, there was plenty of room on that floating door at the end of the movie. Are you going to tell me you weren't pissed off after they went through everything they did to survive and then they couldn't try harder to get them both up on that piece of wood, a piece of wood that was plenty big for both of them if they had just tried a little harder?"

She burst out laughing. "Wait, this is brilliant. You actually don't like Titanic because it isn't romantic enough for you. That's sweet." She batted her eyelashes at me.

My brows snapped down. "No, I don't believe that's what I said. What I said was that I like some realism in my movies. That was a cop-out because the writer thought Jack Dawson should sink to the bottom of the ocean."

She burst out laughing again.

"Are you done?"

She made a poor attempt to wipe the smirk off her face. "Yes. Next question."

"Favorite color."

"Robin's egg blue."

I screwed up my face and glanced to the side, and then back at her. "I'm going to let that one slide. Favorite season."

"Fall."

"Favorite dessert."

"Crème brûlée."

"Favorite sex position."

She paused and a pink color crept up her cheeks. "Um, missionary?"

I stared at her for a minute. "So, not only did that college boyfriend not make you come, but he didn't try any other positions with you, did he? What kind of jackass did you hook up with anyway?"

"Stop! He was a nice guy. Very, um, sweet and uh, considerate."

I snorted. "I bet. Okay, you're depressing me. Your turn."

"You're such an asshole." But she said it with a small smile on her face. "Favorite movie."

"Fight Club."

"Never saw it."

"You never saw Fight Club? That's a crime."

She laughed softly. "Favorite color."

"Blue."

"What shade of blue?"

"Just fucking blue."

"That's not a shade."

"Yeah it is."

She laughed. "Okay. Favorite season."

"Fall."

"We do have something in common! It's a miracle!"

I laughed. "Who would have guessed?"

"Not me. Favorite dessert."

"Bananas Foster–my granny used to make it for me."

She smiled and then looked straight ahead. "Well, that was fun."

"Wait, you didn't ask me the last one."

"No, I didn't. I don't want to know. Really. I'm sure it's something I've never even heard of before. You can keep that one to yourself."

I laughed. "Chicken."

She grinned over at me and I was momentarily taken off balance by the beauty of her smile. I loved her teeth. I loved everything about her mouth. I wanted to taste it again. I stretched my legs out. My pants suddenly felt a little too tight.

We were both quiet for a minute. I was thinking about how things had seemed to shift between Grace and me. There was almost a… comfort level between us as we sat there listening to the quiet elevator music and sipping on her bottle of water. I was also thinking about how I had told her things about my history that I had never told anyone else before. There were people that knew because they were there. But I had never willingly shared my upbringing with anyone who didn't already know for one reason or another. But the fact of it was, no other woman had ever asked me to talk. And maybe it was as simple as that. I couldn't recall another woman who had wanted to hang out with me for my scintillating conversational skills. Maybe it was because I didn't have any. Or maybe it was because no one had ever been interested in finding out whether I did or whether I didn't.

We were both sitting there together, comfortable and at ease, but it definitely hadn't started that way.

"Tell me why you had a panic attack when you first realized we were trapped, Grace," I said softly, glancing over at her.

Her eyes flew to mine. She took another drink of water, clearly stalling and deciding whether she was going to answer me. After a minute she said softly, "My brother got diagnosed when he was eight. I was a year older than him. He fought for two years but when the doctors finally told my parents he was terminal, my mom kind of lost it, and my dad took on the burden of planning his funeral without her. She was literally emotionally incapable." She paused for a long time and I wondered if she'd continue, but finally she did, "My dad had to bring us girls to the funeral home with him a couple times because my mom couldn't even watch us. One time me and my sisters wandered off while my dad was talking to the funeral home director, and I don't even know why, but I climbed into one of the caskets while my sisters were looking at something else. I shut the lid and it latched into place and I couldn't open it. I panicked and started hyperventilating. I kept thinking something was touching my leg–a ghoul or the undead." She laughed a small laugh, shaking her head. But her face went serious very quickly. "But the place was so damn quiet, I was afraid to scream and make the noise it would have taken to get someone to open it for me. I didn't want to embarrass my dad. He was already barely holding on… And so I stayed in there until someone finally opened it on their own, looking for me."

"God, Grace. That must have been terrifying," I said quietly.

She looked up at me. "Honestly, I hadn't thought about it in years. But, I don't know, the thought of being stuck in a small space… I guess it just triggered that same feeling."

"Makes sense." I studied her pretty, serious face for a minute and then I smiled. "Plus, this time you had the added horror of knowing for sure that you were trapped with a demonic ghoul." I widened my eyes and did my best crazed-killer grimace.

She burst out laughing and I grinned at her, happy to see that faraway look of pain clear out of her expression.

After a minute, she raised her eyebrows. "I do believe you just got another secret out of me without having to sink a basket."

I smiled. "True. Okay, fair is fair–you get a freebie now too."

"Why do you call me Buttercup?" she asked.

I turned my head and when she turned her head to look at me, our faces were only inches apart.

I shrugged, looking into her eyes. I had told her a lot of personal stuff about myself, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to hold back now. "Maybe it's your hair," I said, glancing up at her blonde-ness. "Will you take it down for me?"

"My hair?" she whispered. "You want me to take it down for you?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

She hesitated for a minute but then her hand slid up to the back of her head and before I knew it, a mass of silky sunshine was cascading over her shoulders.

"Jesus, Buttercup. You're like an angel." I took a lock between my fingers. It felt as soft as it looked.

She smiled. "I…" Her voice trailed off as I leaned toward her. Her eyes widened, but she didn't move away, and just as our lips were about to touch, the elevator jolted and began to rise. We both pulled away from each other, her gasping in surprise. It was fixed. We were about to be set free. The only thing I could feel was disappointment.

CHAPTER 4

Grace

The jolt of the elevator brought me back to reality and I realized we were about to be set free. "Oh Thank God!" burst out of me as I stood up and grabbed my bag and stood at the doors, ready to jump out the minute they opened. I looked back at Carson and he was still sitting on the floor, unmoving, looking at me with a small frown on his face.

"Hey," I started, "didn't get enough time in here? Planning on staying?" I tilted my head and smiled.

He sighed and started to stand up just as the doors opened. I stepped through them, breathing deeply. "Ah fresh air!" I exclaimed. A man in a dark blue suit came toward me immediately. "Are you okay? We want to apologize for the inconvenience that our elevator malfunction caused you. If you'll come with me to the front desk, I'd like to comp your room for the weekend."

"Oh, um, it's okay. But, a comped room? Okay…" I said as he took my elbow and led me away. I glanced back and another man in a suit was talking to Carson, most likely apologizing to him as well and offering him a comped room. I'd see him at the front desk.

The man, Mr. Savard, led me to the check-in counter, and it only took a couple minutes for him to find my reservation and comp it on the computer. He also handed me a gift certificate to Picasso, a restaurant inside the hotel. He apologized profusely again, and I assured him we were fine and that it hadn't been that bad. We. Now where was the other half of that we? I stopped and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen at the front desk. I glanced around the lobby area and didn't see him there either. Did he refuse the comped room? If so, why would he just leave without even saying goodbye? My heart sped up. He had asked me to spend the weekend with him and I hadn't answered. I hadn't known what to say. I mean, it was just too crazy.

I had ended up liking him though, as unbelievable as that was. I would take that with me and consider the last couple of hours a good lesson about why not to judge a book by its cover. I shook my head slightly and walked back to the elevators.

I bit my thumbnail as the elevator doors closed and rose to my floor. When the doors opened, I stepped off quickly and let out a big breath.

I let myself into my room and dropped down on the bed, lying back and gazing up at the ceiling. I mean, it would be insane to even consider spending the weekend with Carson, right? It was so far outside my neat, tidy life that the very thought of it was ridiculous… wasn't it? I lay there staring upwards, unseeing, and arguing with myself. Was I considering a weekend with Carson? Did I want that? I thought about it for a few minutes, picturing his smiling face. Okay, yes, I wanted it. There, I said it. I liked him, I had already admitted it. I liked Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer. It was nuts. Bonkers. Cuckoo. But, just because I wanted something, didn't mean I should do it. I lay there frowning. It was just a weekend, though. How many other twenty-three year old girls meet a cute guy and spend a great weekend with them and then move on with their life? Him being in the business he was in made it that much more perfect–it wasn't like we could go anywhere beyond a weekend in Vegas. He knew that and I knew that. Maybe he was right–maybe it was within the realms of my "plan." Why couldn't he be Guy Number Two? Why not? Couldn't I be crazy and outrageous just once in my life? Just once?

As I lay there debating, I pictured the proverbial angel and devil whispering into either ear. How had this happened exactly? I never gave in to temptation, and here I was strongly leaning toward spending a couple days with Carson Stinger in his Vegas hotel room letting him teach me things? I brought one hand to my mouth, stifling a shocked giggle. I didn't even know myself anymore. Two hours in an elevator with him and I didn't even know who I was. Why did that thought not scare the living hell out of me? I sat up. Why was I sitting here with excited nerves shooting all over my body instead?

Then another thought occurred to me. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe that's why he disappeared so quickly. I sighed, flopping back down on my bed. Maybe this was all a moot point anyway. I had no idea what his room number was and I was sure they didn't give out that information at the front desk. I let out a big sigh. Maybe I'd give it a try though. And if I couldn't find him, I'd just have to resign myself to the long weekend of law presentations stretched out in front of me, just as I had planned.

Carson

I closed the door to my hotel room and dropped down on my bed, laying back and bringing my hands up to scrub down my face. Shit. Watching her walk away had sucked. But she had never said she'd stay with me and she had been so damn excited to get off the elevator, I knew that her answer would be no. She hadn't even turned to say goodbye. I wasn't going to make it more uncomfortable for her and I wasn't going to beg. Women begged me, I didn't beg them. End of story.

Still, I had thought we connected in a way that I never connected with women. Especially women I found attractive. God, I was such a fucking idiot–you felt a connection, Carson. She didn't. And this time, double fucking whammy, she didn't even want to enjoy my best assets. Not even that.

There were plenty that did though. I wasn't going to lie around like a lovesick girl and write in my diary with my pink, glitter pen all night.

I lay on the bed for a while longer before I stood up and stripped off my clothes and walked to the shower. As I was stepping out, I thought I heard a small knock at my room door. I stilled and listened but didn't hear it again. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my hips, and as I was walking out to grab some clothes, I heard some scuffling sounds right outside my door. I walked over and flung the door open. Grace Hamilton was just turning away. She jerked around and let out a small screech as the door banged against the wall. I couldn't help the huge grin that I felt take over my face. I quickly went serious, though, and leaned my towel-clad hip against the doorframe, crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. She was going to have to tell me she wanted this.

She took a deep breath and I could see that she was battling herself. I remained quiet. Finally, after about a million years, she exhaled out all on one breath, "You asked if I'd spend the weekend with you." I didn't react, just kept watching her. She bit her lip, looking uncertain. "Yes," she finally said, "my answer is yes."

I grinned, feeling something soar inside. "That's all I needed to hear, Buttercup." I held the door open to let her cross through.

Grace

My heart slowed down when he swung the door open and gestured for me to walk inside the hotel room that looked pretty much just like mine. I had been shaking when I knocked on his room door, but then when he didn't answer, the disappointment that filled me was stronger than the nerves. I had been turned from his door and was rooting in my purse for some paper and a pen, not even knowing what I'd write yet, when he swung the door open and stood there in nothing more than a towel around his narrow hips. I had swallowed hard in order not to start drooling all over the hallway rug. He was lean, but had defined muscles and his skin was smooth and golden. He stood there looking completely comfortable in his skin. And why shouldn't he? He was used to disrobing for other's eyes. I pushed that thought aside, though, and told him why I was there. The look of happiness that spread over his face made me relax a little.

I walked inside and sat down on the bed, my nerves starting again when it hit me what I was doing. I looked around and realized I was shaking my knee. I crossed my legs and looked up at Carson, uncertain what to do. What was the protocol here? He was watching me, an amused expression on his face. "I'm gonna go put some clothes on. I'll be right back."

"Okay," I said, confused. Wasn't the point of this to take our clothes off? God, I felt like a hooker. I swallowed hard and considered bolting. What the hell was I doing? Maybe I hadn't really thought this through. It had sounded like a decent idea in my room, but now the reality of it had me feeling jittery and brittle.

Carson suddenly emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of worn jeans and a Boston Red Sox t-shirt. "Your granny's team?" I asked, gesturing to his shirt.

He looked down and then looked up at me, surprised. "Yeah. You remembered."

"You told me your granny was from Massachusetts an hour ago, Carson." I raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled but then looked thoughtful as he started pulling on his socks. "Yeah."

We were both silent as he pulled on his shoes.

"So how'd you get my room number anyway?" he asked.

I laughed softly. "I went back down to the front desk and spun a tale of romantic elevator love for Mr. Savard. I told him that I had lost you in the mix and needed to tell you that I couldn't live without you. Turns out, he's a romantic who was willing to bend the rules." I grinned.

He grinned back. "I'll be forever in Mr. Savard's debt."

He stood up. "Ready?" he asked, holding out his hand to me.

"Where are we going?"

"We're stopping by your hotel room so you can change and then I'm taking you to dinner."

"Oh. Um, okay."

"You are hungry, right?"

I thought about it. No, I feel like I'm going to throw up. "Yes, I'm hungry."

"Okay, then, let's go." He smiled at me.

I took his hand and stood up, and then followed him out of his room.

We stepped on the elevator and as it began its descent, we both looked at each other and grinned. "It would be like getting struck by lightning, right?" I asked a little nervously.

He smiled again as the elevator came to a stop at my floor. "Definitely."

We stepped into the hallway, and as we came to my room and I took out my key card, he came up right behind me and put his hands on the door next to each side of my head. I stilled, the key card still inches from the key slot. My breath hitched in my throat as his smell surrounded me–clean soap and Carson, that delicious, unidentifiable scent that had me wanting to rub against him like a cat in heat again. I closed my eyes as I felt his breath against my ear. He nuzzled me with his nose and his lips for a second before he whispered, "I'm glad you said yes."

God, I was so turned on I was shaking, a steady throb beginning in my core. I nodded jerkily and barely made the key card into the slot. I needed a cold shower if I was going to make it through dinner. I had never felt this level of lust, ever and I didn't know whether I liked it or not. It made me feel out of control, cloudy, desperate. The feeling was scary, unfamiliar. I didn't know what to do with it.

I grabbed some clothes and glanced back at Carson as I went into the bathroom, and he looked cool, calm and collected. He had fallen back on the bed and was flipping through the channels on the television. Meanwhile, I was about to go up in flames from a few whispered words. Just as I was about to shut the door, I spun around and came back out. Carson looked up at me questioningly. I cleared my throat, my mind racing. Should I stop this now? I opened my mouth and then closed it again. "Be out in a few minutes," I finally said.

He looked amused. "Take your time."

I nodded and closed the door behind me. It was already eight thirty and we were both hungry and so I showered quickly and started blowing my hair dry. I remembered Carson asking me to take it down in the elevator and so instead of putting it up like I usually did, I put some mousse in it and blew it partially dry. It fell down my back in long waves. It would dry fully on the way to the restaurant.

I put on a little bit of makeup and spritzed some perfume on. Taking a cue from what Carson was wearing, I had pulled out a pair of dark gray shorts and a loose, black, tunic-type top. It was casual but I still felt like I looked nice for a date. I paused. Was this a date? Or was this just pre-sex dinner between practical strangers? My hormones had simmered down under the cool spray of the shower, but now I was feeling nervous again. Maybe I just needed to stop trying to define things and go with it. God, I was so bad at that. I craved structure and definitions and control. And here I was throwing all of that to the wind. For sex. With a porn star. I put my hands over my mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle as I met my own wide, blue eyes in the mirror in front of me. How was I going to feel after this was all said and done? Was I really going to be able to dismiss this as a weekend romp and easily leave it behind? I mean, technically, it was my plan. Only, this wasn't anywhere near how I pictured it going down. Was I capable of this? My decision in my room had been too quick. I needed time to make a pro and con list. I needed a few minutes to–

A knock came at the bathroom door. "You in there talking yourself out of this, Buttercup?" Carson asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I pulled the bathroom door open and was met with Carson's beautiful face looking back at me. He was smiling, and before I knew it, he had taken my face in his hands and was kissing my lips in a way that distracted me from all my bathroom musings. It was what I needed. It was what I was here for, right? Maybe I needed the reminder. This didn't have to be complicated. I relaxed a little bit.

He leaned back and raised one eyebrow. I laughed a small laugh and shook my head at him, remembering that he had asked me a question. "No, let's go."

CHAPTER 5

Carson

I grabbed Grace's hand as we walked out of the hotel. She looked over at me with a surprised expression on her face but didn't pull away. I was having a hard time looking away from her legs in those shorts and heels. From what I could tell, Grace's body was exceptional everywhere, but those legs… Christ, I never knew what a leg man I was until I got a glimpse of hers.

I took a quick glance over at her face and she still looked tense. I realized that I felt a little nervous too, but mine was with anticipation, not worry. She looked worried. That brain of hers was still working on this a mile a minute. I had known that that was what she was doing in the bathroom too by the way all the sounds stopped, and there was silence coming from the other side of the door. In my mind's eye, I could see her standing there talking herself out of this weekend and I felt a bolt of fear slide down my spine. I had her where I wanted her to be–I'd be damned if I was going to let her walk away. Not yet anyway.

Her feet slowed down a little bit as her eyes darted around nervously. "Carson, I–" But I didn't let her finish that thought. I knew she was trying to back out again.

I pulled her hand, leading her to the wall of the lobby, rather than toward the doors where we had been heading.

"Come here a minute," I said, stopping and turning to face her fully. She looked up at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain what I was doing. I took hold of both her hands and started, "Grace, this is different for me too." I looked into her eyes, hoping she'd understand what I was saying. "I know you're still questioning this and I don't want you to. If you want to leave, I won't stop you. But I really hope you'll stay, and I really hope you'll let yourself enjoy our time together. Because the simple fact is that, for me, two hours wasn't nearly enough. Tell me it wasn't enough for you either."

She searched my face for several moments, apparently finding something that relaxed her because she squeezed my hands and finally smiled up at me. "Not nearly enough," she said quietly.

I exhaled and smiled down at her. "Okay, good. Can we focus on that then?"

She nodded, still gazing up at me. "It's just… things seemed to change so quickly between us. I hated you and now I'm spending the weekend with you." She laughed quietly. "I'm having a hard time catching up with myself."

I knew exactly what she meant. I was feeling the same thing. But I was okay with it. I wasn't adjusting any "plan." I was flying by the seat of my pants, just as I'd always done. This was unexpected, but far from unpleasant. I was living in the moment, ready to soak up something I really, really wanted. I suddenly realized that Grace wanted to do that too. She just didn't know how. I could teach her a few things about physical pleasure, just like I'd said. My confidence in that arena was plenty high. But I realized in that moment that I could also teach her a little something about enjoying life as it came, about breaking the rules once in a while. "Yeah, life can change on a dime." I grinned. "Wild, isn't it?"

I leaned in and whispered close to her ear, "Lose control, baby. Just for a weekend. Let me take charge. I'll take good care of you, I promise."

She shivered and I saw her shoulders visibly relax. I kissed her forehead and looked down at her. She nodded her head, the expression on her face calm now.

"Thank you. Now man need food to have energy to drag woman by hair."

She burst out laughing. "Well then, by all means, let's get man sustenance."

I took her hand again and we walked out the front doors, this time both of us smiling.

Grace

Carson led me out the door and toward the strip. I was feeling relaxed now–he had somehow known that I was tense and said the words that I needed to hear to stop my wheels from turning. I wasn't sure how he'd known, but I was glad. I wanted to be with him, I just wanted to be able to enjoy it. And I hadn't known how to "go with the flow" until he asked me to give him the control. It was what I needed–someone to offer to take it from me so that I could relinquish it temporarily. I had never given up control before. Once I really thought about it, I realized that my whole life was based on control. I had never tried it any other way. So why was I willing to give it up to this virtual stranger for an entire two days? I wasn't exactly sure. I just was, and I was going to go with that. Final answer.

I grinned up at Carson. He looked down at me. "What?"

"Nothing. How tall are you anyway?"

"Six one. How tall are you, shorty?" He smiled.

"Five three. And speaking of stats, I haven't asked how old you are. Am I robbing the cradle this weekend?" He looked about my age but looks could be deceiving.

"I'm twenty-three also."

"What month?"

"November."

"Oh, I'm September. So I am robbing the cradle. I'm two months older."

He laughed. "Good. I'm into older women."

"Ha ha."

I looked around as we turned on to the strip, walking hand in hand, my head swiveling everywhere. "It's incredible," I breathed out. "The lights…" I looked up at the names of the hotels all around us, glancing into the casinos as we walked by.

"First time in Vegas?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"On our way back, we can stop at the fountain. They do shows every fifteen minutes or so. I think you'll like it."

"Okay."

We walked in silence for a little bit as I marveled at all of the sights and sounds around me. I couldn't help noticing all the women whose eyes lingered on Carson as we walked past them. I gripped his hand tighter as we crossed the street amongst the throngs of people.

"Where are you taking me anyway?"

"I'm not telling you because you can't judge until you get there and try it for yourself. I thought we deserved some greasy goodness after our ordeal today." He stopped walking. "Wait, shit, you do eat meat, right? You're not a vegetarian?"

I laughed. "No, I'm not a vegetarian. But now I'm scared." I suddenly realized that I was starving though and I wasn't going to be picky.

He laughed and started walking again. "Don't be scared. You'll love it. I thought we could do something a little more upscale tomorrow night."

"The hotel gave me a gift certificate to Picasso! We could go there."

He smiled down at me. "It's a plan."

"Good. You know how I like a good plan." I winked up at him.

"Oh, I know," he said, dropping my hand and putting his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in to him as we walked. It felt nice.

"Hey, speaking of my gift certificate, didn't they offer you a comped room too?"

"Yeah, they did, but I thought you were giving me the brush off when you practically ran off the elevator, and I just figured I'd go on up to my room and not make things awkward up at the front desk."

I frowned. "I thought I'd see you up there. I wasn't trying to give you the brush off."

He smiled. "Yeah, I figured that out when you showed up at my hotel room begging me to take you in for the weekend."

I elbowed him. "Watch it, Stinger. I could still change my mind."

He laughed and squeezed me to him teasingly as he turned me into a restaurant called Pink's. I looked up at the sign. "Hot dogs?" I asked

"Yup. World famous hot dogs. Your eyes are going to roll into the back of your head. Promise."

"You did promise me that, didn't you? I didn't realize you meant hot dogs."

His eyes heated. "I promise all kinds of eye rolling, Buttercup. This is just first up on the itinerary."

I snorted. "We'll see…" I was having fun joking around with him. But the eye rolling talk had me nervous too and made me remember the supposed purpose of our weekend. Carson had already blurred the lines a little bit with a dinner date first and the reassuring words in the Bellagio lobby. Go with it, Grace. Deep breath.

The hostess seated us and within a few minutes, we had each ordered a beer and a hot dog. Carson ordered some god-awful sounding concoction of bacon and sausage and nacho cheese with a side of onion rings. I ordered a chili cheese dog. I hadn't had one of those in forever and was surprised at how good it sounded.

As the waitress took our order, I noticed her trying to catch Carson's eye. He politely ignored her, smiling over at me after ordering.

Our beers were set down in front of us a few minutes later and Carson lifted his beer to mine. "To malfunctioning elevators," he said, grinning.

I laughed, clinking his bottle. I couldn't believe I was cheering to that. If someone had told me that about four hours ago, I'd have thought they were insane. "To malfunctioning elevators," I said. God, I hoped I was still thankful to malfunctioning elevators by the end of this weekend. I took a long sip of beer.

The waitress brought our hot dogs and I made faces at Carson as he laughed at me for trying unsuccessfully to eat mine in a ladylike manner. Finally, I just gave up and dug in like he was doing.

His eyes danced with amusement as he said around a big bite, "If you're not messy afterwards, baby, you didn't do it right."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh. You just get worse and worse, don't you?" But I couldn't help the smile that quirked the corner of my lips. I had accused him of doing his sex-on-a-stick act as a way to hide, but this was different. Those first couple times, he had used his sexual innuendos against me–using them to make me feel uncomfortable and then angry at my reaction to him. He knew the power he held. And he used that–in ways good and bad, I suspected. But he wasn't trying to do that now–at least I didn't think so. He was just trying to make me laugh. He was trying to help me let my guard down. And I had to admit, it was working.

I also had to admit that that hot dog was probably the most delicious thing I had ever eaten.

He used his napkin to wipe some chili off the side of my mouth and as his eyes lingered on my lips, I felt that throbbing start in my core again. "Ready to get back?" he asked, his heated eyes lifting to mine.

I just nodded.

He paid the bill and then we were back out on the strip, hand in hand, only this time not walking with as much leisure as we had on the way to dinner.

We crossed the street and walked in silence back to the Bellagio fountain. My heart was racing now. I knew where this was leading and as much as I wanted it now, this was going to change everything.

There was already a small group of people waiting in front of the still water. Carson scooted me to the stone railing at the front and as I stood silently, waiting for the fountain to go off, he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me. I leaned my head back against him and enjoyed the feeling of his big body wrapped around me.

After a minute or two, music started playing and the water burst up into the air. I sucked in a breath as I realized that the water was "dancing" to the music! "Oh my God!" I exhaled. "It's stunning!"

I felt Carson's chuckle behind me. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"It's amazing. How do they do it?" I couldn't look away.

"I don't really know. They play all kinds of different songs though."

"Wow." I suddenly realized what song was on and I giggled. "Listen to what's playing." I looked up and back at Carson and grinned as My Heart Will Go On, the theme from Titanic, burst through the loud speakers.

He leaned down into me and in a mocking voice said, "Jack, Jack, don't ever let go… well, that is, unless I try once to pull you up on this two-person raft and can't do it. Then, God Speed, human popsicle. It was fun while it lasted."

I laughed. "You really are bitter about that, aren't you? You should try to let it go. There are professionals who might be able to help."

"I might look into that." He frowned and then quickly grinned and pulled me back harder against him.

We watched the show for a couple minutes in silence and when I took his hands in mine from the front, he leaned down and nuzzled into my hair, his scent intoxicating me again. I dropped my head back onto his shoulder, giving him better access. He took me up on my offer, kissing the sensitive skin of my neck, his warm breath tickling my ear. That now-familiar throbbing was starting and I wanted him to kiss me again. I wanted him all over me.

"Let's take this inside, Buttercup," he whispered, his voice sounding strained.

"Why do you call me Buttercup?" I asked softly.

"Hmm… maybe it's because you smell like a flower," he said on a smile.

I didn't say anything, I just smiled back and grabbed his hand and started walking toward the hotel as he grinned that heart-stopping grin at me.

CHAPTER 6

Carson

I took her by the hand and led her as fast as possible to the hotel. As we made our way through the lobby, her shorter legs speed-walked to keep up with me. It wasn't very chivalrous, I knew, but I was a desperate man. I didn't think I'd been in this bad a shape since… well, since ever. After standing at the fountain watching her eyes light up with excitement at the water display and then holding her in my arms, drinking in the feel of her, the smell of her, my blood was coursing with need. And not just a general need, a need for her, a need that was clawing it's way through my body, demanding to be satisfied. I barely knew her, and yet everything about Grace Hamilton went straight to my head, like a strong shot of whiskey, making my brain spin. She affected me in every way a woman could affect a man.

But I had promised her I'd take care of her, take control. I needed to keep a hold of mine if I was going to put her at ease and make her feel safe enough to give herself to me fully. Somehow I knew that instinctively.

Give herself to me fully? I slammed the brakes on. No, not fully. It was sex and it was a good time–just for the weekend. It was all I had to offer. And it was all she wanted to take. Still, I wanted this to be a satisfying experience for both of us–in as many ways as possible.

As we walked through the casino toward the elevators, I saw a group of people I recognized from the business, here for the expo, standing off to the side, talking and laughing loudly. I put my arm around Grace and nuzzled into her, trying to make sure none of them recognized me and called out my name. I didn't typically socialize with any of them, but they'd probably know who I was. The last thing I wanted was to remind Grace what I did or get sidetracked for even a minute from our destination–the privacy of my hotel room.

We stepped on to the elevator and I asked, "Do you need to stop at your room for anything?" My voice sounded raspy, even to my own ears.

"Yes. If you don't mind," she said quietly, her eyes lingering on mine for a couple beats before they dropped to my mouth. My dick throbbed in my jeans. You could cut the sexual tension in the air with a butter knife. I turned to the panel of numbers and pushed her floor number with my thumb, again and again, as if that would speed the elevator up.

We rode up silently and made our way to her room. She let us in and I stood by the door while she quickly gathered a few of her things. Then we got back on the elevator and rode a couple floors up to my room. I didn't feel the need to ask her what she was thinking. Her facial expression told me that she was steady, her eyes reflecting back the lust I was feeling.

I unlocked my door and let us in. I threw my wallet and key card on the desk and turned to Grace. She was standing behind me, just having placed her travel bag on the floor and I took the few steps to bring myself inches from her. Electricity sparked between us. We both knew exactly what was about to happen. We stood silently, staring at each other, her breathing speeding up and a faint color rising in her cheeks. As I watched her, holding myself back from touching her, I felt like I was going to burst out of my skin.

"You want this too, Grace." I wasn't asking her a question.

She started to say something but it hitched in her throat and she simply nodded, her eyes twin pools of want. For me.

I closed the small distance between us and took her face in my hands. She was watching me carefully. I brought my lips to hers, taking a gentle taste of her lush mouth. Our first kiss had been angry, harsh, lustful, unplanned. The second one had been quick, almost chaste. This one was slow and deep, our tongues meeting and tangling, tasting. Each stroke of her tongue on mine sent an electric current straight to my cock. She tasted like fucking heaven. I was vibrating like a tuning fork. But I was going to take this slow. Now that we were here, now that we had both made it clear that we wanted each other, there was no rush. It was just her and me and the long night that stretched out before us. I couldn't help the deep moan that rose from my chest at the thought. My cock surged forward in my jeans.

She brought her arms around me and pressed her body closer, a small moan coming up her throat too. I felt that moan in every cell of my body.

After several minutes, or weeks, I couldn't be sure, I broke from her mouth and we both took in deep breaths of air, our eyes meeting again. Hers were heavy-lidded and shining with desire–I was sure mine were too.

I brought my lips to her ear, letting my teeth graze over her lobe, and asked her quietly, "How do you want to come the first time, Grace?"

I heard her breath hitch and then start coming out in sharp pants as I continued, "Against my mouth? Around my cock? How, Buttercup? It won't be just once, so I want to know how you want it the first time."

"Your mouth, Carson," she breathed out, more color rising in her cheeks. I could see her body trembling slightly.

I practically growled as I grabbed the hem of her shirt and brought it up as she lifted her arms so that I could remove it. I brought it over her head and tossed it to the side. Then I turned back to her and drank her in, standing before me in her shorts and a black, lace bra, her creamy breasts spilling out of the cups. She still looked a little uncertain, watching me closely, waiting to see what I was going to do next. This girl, who had planned out her whole life, step by step, was looking to me for instruction. The thought made me dizzy with something I couldn't identify in that moment.

I wanted to watch her eyes as I touched her for the first time, but the sight of my darker hands on her fair skin had me mesmerized, and I couldn't look away as I traced the outline of her bra cups with one finger, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. She drew in a quick gulp of air and pressed her breasts toward me, offering me more of her. I looked up into her eyes as I released the front clasp of her bra, and then looked down as it fell aside to reveal the perfect breasts beneath, pink, pearly nipples already hardened and begging for my mouth. I traced the underside of them, watching the twin buds pucker even more. "You're beautiful," I said.

As I lowered my head and licked one nipple lightly, tasting it and flicking it with my tongue, Grace let out a long moan and let her head fall back. I cupped the underside of each breast, feeling the perfect weight of them in my hands. Then I brought my mouth to the other nipple as she brought her hands up and ran them through my hair. "Ah!" she cried out.

I lifted my head. "What is it, Buttercup?" I smiled.

"No! Don't stop. Please. It's so good. I feel like I could come just from that alone. God."

I smiled as I moved back slightly and unbuttoned her shorts and let them fall to the floor. She kicked her heels off and kicked her shorts aside. I sucked in a breath. "Jesus, you weren't wearing panties?"

She shook her head. "Pantilines…" she said on a small smile.

My eyes moved down her body, taking in her flat stomach and the small v of short blonde hair between her legs. She was breathtaking, her skin creamy and smooth. I couldn't wait to show her all the things she'd been missing out on.

I lowered my head back to her breast, the taste of her making my excitement rage out of control, my cock pulsating.

"You taste so good," I sighed out as I brought my mouth up to her neck, tasting her there too. She moaned again and ground her core against mine. "Carson," she whispered, "I want to see you too."

"Anything you want, Buttercup," I said on a smile as I moved back slightly and pulled my t-shirt over my head. I quickly kicked off my shoes and bent to pull my socks off so that I could pull my jeans and boxers down my legs.

For a few beats, her gaze traveled down my body, pausing at my erection, her eyes widening slightly. "You're perfect, Carson," she whispered as her eyes met mine again.

I knew how I affected women. It was what I did, who I was. I had been told more times than I could count how much women appreciated my body. It's what women wanted from me. But for some reason, when Grace told me that she liked what she saw, something inside me soared in happiness. Maybe it was because I had an inkling that a girl like Grace wouldn't be here just for my body, despite what she might be telling herself. It was a strange thought, really, and I didn't know what made it skate through my mind. But there it was.

A thank you to her compliment didn't seem like it was necessary. I stepped closer again and now our naked bodies were right against each other, my throbbing erection just touching the smooth skin of her stomach. Just that small contact made me hiss in a breath. I enclosed her in an embrace, pressing into her with more pressure and feeling every inch of her skin against mine. I began kissing her again as I walked her backwards, and when the back of her knees hit the bed, she fell onto the comforter and I followed her down.

Grace

My back hit the bed and Carson was on top of me before I could even draw in a full breath. His hard, naked body touched mine everywhere and a thrill went down my spine when I felt his big shaft press into my belly. He was big, bigger than I'd ever had, that's for sure. But I thought it would be okay–my core was slick with desire, my vaginal muscles convulsing, begging to receive him into my body. As his mouth came down on mine again, his tongue delving deep, I ground up against him. I was desperate now. He had me so worked up, I was sure that all he'd have to do was touch me once and I'd fall apart. I needed it. I was willing to beg. I was desperate for the release that I knew was right within reach.

Carson broke our kiss and moved down my body, flicking each of my nipples once with his tongue before kissing down my stomach. My breath hitched as I realized what he was about to do. I had asked him for it, but suddenly, I felt unsure. No one had ever done that for me before–what if I didn't like it? What if I couldn't come that way? What if he didn't like the way I tasted down there? "Carson, I don't know…"

His head came up as he scooted off the bed to the floor, on his knees in front of me. "Shhh. Trust me." He reached out for my hands and pulled me up and to the edge of the bed until I was sitting up with my core right at his face. "Lean back on your hands and watch me," he ordered. I bit my lip but did as he said.

He pushed my knees apart further until I was open and completely exposed to him. His eyes fell to my naked, wet flesh and his eyes glittered as he studied me. Then he leaned in and inhaled deeply. "Perfect," he murmured, right before his head lowered between my legs. My heart skipped a beat and more wet heat rushed downward.

I cried out in ecstasy as I felt his warm tongue lap all the way up me once and then circle my swollen nub. Oh God, that felt incredible. I opened my legs further to give him more access and my head unconsciously fell back on a moan. "Eyes, Grace, watch me." Carson growled, his head coming up from between my legs. "Yes, yes, eyes," I panted out. I'd do anything if he'd put his tongue back on me. My heavy lids opened half-mast and I gazed down at him. He lowered his head again and his tongue flicked my tender flesh, eliciting another moan from me. I was going up in flames; it felt like lava was coursing through my veins and a furious drumbeat of need was beating right where his tongue was now lapping at me.

His eyes met mine as his tongue worked my pink nub, sucking it and kissing it. If I thought I was turned on before, I was wrong. On a scale of one to ten, that was a five, this was a forty-four. I gasped as he put one finger inside me, never letting up what he was doing with his mouth. He moved his finger in and out of me and I could hear the slick sounds of my arousal as he used one finger for a minute, and then two.

His tongue licking at me rhythmically was delicious bliss, and the addition of his fingers moving in and out of me was ecstasy, but the sight of his head between my legs was my undoing. The look of my white thighs stretched out around his silky hair, as his head bobbed and worked between my legs, was so erotic that within less than a minute, the pulsing in my core rose to a fever pitch. I screamed as I shattered around him, waves and waves of pure white pleasure washing through my body. I had never felt anything like it. I was breathless and speechless.

When I opened my eyes, I had fallen back on the bed and Carson was over me. "Good baby?" he asked.

I couldn't help the laughter that erupted out of me. He had told me he could make me come and God, had he delivered. I might never recover. "God, yes," was all I could manage.

He leaned down and kissed me and I tasted myself on his mouth. There was something even more personal about the fact that I was sharing that with him, and it was a reminder of where he'd just been. Another surge of heat raced down my spine at the memory of that picture. Already, my body was greedy for more of what he had just given me.

As Carson swept his tongue inside my mouth, he rubbed his chest on my nipples and I moaned. He pulled away from my mouth and whispered, "You want me inside you, don't you, Buttercup?" His voice sounded deep and raspy.

"Yes, yes, please." I couldn't believe he had just given me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life and less than five minutes later, I was begging him for more. There was still a steady throb deep inside me that I knew would only be quenched by him pushing into my body and filling me.

He stood up and walked over to the desk where he had thrown his wallet and pulled a condom out of it. "Scoot back, Grace," he said, as he started climbing back over me. He wasn't smiling anymore, and neither was I. I was mesmerized, watching his beautiful, naked body flex as he moved away from me and then back again, so powerful and perfectly male. I watched as he tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth and rolled it on. His erection looked almost painfully engorged, red and standing straight at attention. That's going to be inside me in a minute, I thought. As I looked up and my eyes met his, something flared between us.

I scooted up the bed and waited for him to join me. "Pull the sheets back, Buttercup. I don't want you to get a chill." It was a funny thing to say considering that I still felt like I was on fire. But I guess the air conditioner was on high. Or maybe he just intended on taking his time with me. A thrill shot through me and my stomach clenched. I lay back, wondering what he was going to do. I realized that for the first time that I could ever remember, my mind was empty–at least to anything except the sensations that Carson was bringing me. I relished it. To let someone else make the calls, to give someone else control, at least temporarily, it made me want to weep with relief. I didn't ponder it very long, I just enjoyed it.

I pulled the sheet back and scooted under it and then Carson climbed under it too and leaned back over me, his eyes glittering with heat. "I'm going to take you hard, Grace. Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes, yes, I want that," I moaned, more wetness pooling between my thighs.

I wanted it hard. I wanted him to pound into me. I'd never had it that way. My inner muscles clenched in delicious anticipation and a thrill shot down my spine, that furious drumbeat starting again.

He moved between my legs and I brought my knees up and wantonly let my legs fall to the side, offering myself to him.

He took my wrists in his hands and brought them over my head and held them against the pillow. He mounted me and brought his lips to mine again, thrusting his tongue into my mouth seconds before he thrust into me from below. I moaned out in pleasure and he tore his mouth from mine. "Oh Fuck, Grace, baby you're so tight."

"Please," I panted out. What I was begging for, I wasn't sure, but he seemed to know.

He let out a quick exhale and started pumping into me. At first he went slow and deep, his movement controlled, rubbing a spot inside of me that I didn't even know existed. I panted out in pleasure, "Oh God, Oh God, right there, yessss," and his eyes watched me, gauging my reaction and moving his body in response to my cues. When I started panting and pushing up against him, he started moving hard and fast, thrusting into me relentlessly, his eyes growing heavy, his mouth falling open. God, he was so beautiful it was heart-stopping.

As he slammed into me, over and over, the pleasure spiraled higher and higher until there was nowhere to go but over the edge. I shuddered and screamed out beneath him as the orgasm exploded through my body. This one was just as intense as the first, but it was different, starting from deep inside, my internal muscles rippling and clenching deliciously. Holy hell.

As I came down, I watched his face tense and I knew he was coming. "Oh God," he choked out as his thrusts grew jerky and goose bumps erupted on his skin.

He moved his mouth to mine and moaned out the rest of his orgasm against my lips. As he kissed me slowly and deeply, he moved in and out of me leisurely, milking his own climax before his hips came to a stop, and he let go of my hands. "You're incredible, Buttercup," he said on a smile, moving his head to my shoulder to bite it playfully.

He pulled out of me and rolled off, standing up and heading to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, I assumed. He was back in a flash, climbing back under the sheet and pulling me into his arms. "So that's what sex is supposed to be like," I sighed, shock and awe still clouding my orgasm-fogged brain.

He chuckled.

"My future husband is going to make a shrine in your honor."

"Hmmm. Remind me to give you an autographed picture before you leave so you can hang it in the middle."

I smiled into his chest, kissing the smooth skin.

I used my pointer finger to trace his nipple and watched as it hardened. I brought my leg up over his and felt him twitch against me. "Grace…" he moaned out.

My head came up. "Really? You could go again so soon?"

"I guess I haven't gotten enough of you yet."

I laughed. "Well good thing you have me all weekend. But I think I need at least a couple hours of recovery time. My bones feel like water."

He chuckled. "Okay, as long as you don't mind being woken up in the middle of the night."

"Hmm hmm. Not if you do that to me again."

I felt his grin against my forehead as he leaned down and kissed me. "Go to sleep, Buttercup."

"Why do you call me Buttercup?" I whispered sleepily.

"Maybe because your skin is as creamy as butter," he said and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hmmm."

I closed my eyes and was asleep within minutes.

And Carson made good on his promise to wake me up in the middle of the night as he pushed inside of me and thrust lazily until we both tipped over the edge, the pleasure making us both moan into each other's mouths.

When I woke up to his delicious scent all around me in the early hours of the morning, I felt something hot and hard twitching against my ass and so I took his thick, hard length in my hand and stroked him until I saw the goose bumps erupt on his skin and he moaned out in release.

"You're gonna kill me, Buttercup," he choked out, his voice thick with sleep. "But oh well, we all have to go sometime."

I grinned against his skin.

We fell back to sleep as a small sliver of sunlight showed itself at the edge of the blackout curtains and didn't wake up again until my stomach was growling with hunger and I'd missed the beginning of my conference.

CHAPTER 7

Carson

I slipped out of bed and pulled on my clothes. I watched Grace as I zipped and buttoned my jeans. She was asleep on her stomach, the sheet just barely covering her ass, her hair a mass of blonde waves, going in every direction. She looked like a goddess. I had been inside her twice last night and this morning, and had three orgasms, and yet I still wanted to roll her over and sink inside her again. I couldn't get enough. The thought worried me a little. I never felt this way. I was usually halfway out the door before the woman even realized I was leaving. Not that I wasn't upfront about what my hookups were about, and the women I chose were ones who indicated to me that that was okay with them. Whether they were lying or not, wasn't really my concern. Not that I could have a normal relationship anyway–even if I wanted one. Girls who weren't in the business tended to have a big problem dating a guy who made porn films. I didn't blame them. And no way I could date a woman in the business. I knew better than anyone that sex on set was just work. But to date a woman who fucked other dudes? No fucking way. So if I wasn't working, I stayed away from the whole crowd.

But here was this beautiful woman lying in my bed, tangled in the sheets that we had just fucked in–again and again. And I practically wanted to tie her down so that she didn't leave. Only, she would leave–Monday morning. And I'd be wise to get my fill of her and not forget that I'd be sending her on her way–just after a little more time than the others. In the end, I guess it was all the same.

I left the room and made my way down to the restaurant downstairs and got two coffees and a couple pastries to go. I jumped back on the elevator and headed back to my room to feed my sleeping goddess. I couldn't help smiling to myself. I could have ordered room service but I didn't want anyone wheeling a cart into the room and seeing Grace naked, wrapped in a sheet. She was for my eyes only.

I opened the room door, balancing the coffees in one hand and the bag of pastries in the other. I remembered to stick the "do not disturb" sign on the door handle.

I closed the door quietly and set the food on the desk. Grace was in the exact same position she had been in when I left. I smiled as I walked over to the bed and moved her hair aside to whisper in her ear, "Hey sleeping Buttercup."

She wriggled and opened one eye as she gave me a sleepy smile. "Hey yourself," she said shyly, sitting up and bringing the sheet up over her breasts. She glanced at the clock and looked back at me, startled. "Oh God. I missed the beginning of my conference," she said.

"Yeah, I guess we didn't really talk about that, did we? You gonna be in trouble?" I asked.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "It wasn't mandatory or anything. No one will know whether I was there or not. I've just never blown something off… " She paused for a minute, deep in thought. "You know what? It's okay. But, there is one presentation that I want to go to tomorrow afternoon, the one I really came for, but I'm okay skipping the rest." She looked almost surprised before she turned her face to me and gave me a bigger smile. "Is that coffee I smell?"

I went over and grabbed her cup and brought it to her. "Pastries too if you want one?"

"I'd love one. That was nice of you to get me food."

"Babe, your stomach was growling so loud I thought it was a plane flying overhead. I couldn't exactly sleep through that."

She laughed out loud, putting a hand over her mouth so that she didn't spew the sip of coffee she had just taken. "It was not!" she laughed out. Then she frowned, "Was it?"

I laughed too. "Okay, maybe not that loud, but my Buttercup clearly needed food."

She smiled over the lid of her coffee, and took another sip. "So, are you gonna be in trouble for skipping your show?"

"Probably. I don't know. I haven't turned my phone on since you showed up at my door. My agent has probably been calling me non-stop."

She stared at me silently for a couple beats. "Carson… if this weekend isn't a good idea for your… career, I don't want to make trouble for you."

"Grace, I'm not exactly broken up about spending time with a beautiful, sexy Buttercup, rather than throngs of porn fans." Why did I hate talking about anything that reminded her what I did? It was part of the reason she was here–my experience.

She laughed a little uncomfortably and then got a stricken look on her face. "Carson, last night… in the middle of the night, did you…" She looked around and her eyes landed on the empty condom wrapper on the bedside table. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, okay."

"I'm clean. We have to get tested every month. I just got a clean bill of health a week ago. You're probably safer with me than some random guy you might pick up at the pool."

She nodded. "Well, that's… good. Still, I'm not on birth control."

"We'll be really careful, okay?"

She nodded again, taking another sip of her coffee.

"So, what do you want to do today? The city is our oyster."

"The first thing I wanna do is take a shower. I'm a mess." She brought one hand up and smoothed her wild hair down.

"You're beautiful. But how about you finish your breakfast and I jump in for five minutes, and then you take one after me. That okay?"

"Yes, sounds good."

"Okay." I smiled and leaned in and kissed her lips. "Out in five."

Grace

Carson handed me the bag of pastries and some napkins and I sat in bed drinking my coffee and nibbling on the sweets, considering the situation at hand. I choked down the giggles rising up my throat. I didn't know if they were giggles of hilarity or hysteria. I was eating in bed–which I never did, sweets–which I never ate, after letting a gorgeous porn star give me multiple orgasms through the night. And now I was blowing off my conference–unheard of–so that I could spend more time with him. And hopefully later he'd give me more mind-blowing orgasms. Who was I? And why exactly wasn't I heading for the hills? Because you like him, a small voice said. I took a sip of my coffee, chewing thoughtfully. Yes, I liked him. But that was good, right? I had always planned on liking my Guy Number Two. Yes, it could be argued, pretty well, most likely, that what I was doing was slutty. But if I didn't even like the guy, wouldn't that make it even worse? So yes, I liked him. He was funny and I never knew exactly what was going to come out of his mouth. And there was a sweetness to him that I didn't think he showed very many people. And he was sexy as hell and the things he could do with his mouth and his…

"What are you sitting there thinking about?" Carson asked, standing there in nothing more than a towel. Mmm.

"Oh, nothing much," I said, standing up and stretching. Carson watched me, his eyes darkening. I liked that look–a lot. My shower would be a cold one.

He didn't move to let me by and so I smiled a little nervously and said, "Excuse me," as I dropped the sheet and scooted past him.

I closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, breathing hard. God, I was really out of my element here. Get it together, Grace. He said he'd take charge. Just relax and let him. It seemed to work out just fine last night. Heat rushed through me as the slideshow of our night raced through my brain. My breathing evened out and my nerves evaporated, at least for now, and I went about the business of brushing my teeth and showering.

When I emerged from the bathroom with a towel around me and my hair still damp, Carson was sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, still clad in nothing but his towel.

He looked up at me. "Hey, Buttercup."

"Why do you call me Buttercup?" I asked, smiling and walking toward him.

He grinned. "Maybe because you're so little, like a flower."

"I'm not that little." I grinned back.

"I can't remember. Come here."

I walked over to him and sat down on his lap, pulling both my legs up over his and stretching them out. I leaned back onto his naked chest as he wrapped his arms around me. He swept my hair to the side and leaned down and nuzzled my neck, tracing my ear with his nose. I sighed, my nipples hardening and heat swirling through my belly at his simplest of touches.

I felt him swell and lengthen beneath me and knew he was as affected by me as I was by him. It was a heady thought and made me bolder. I rotated my ass slowly over his growing erection. He moaned, "God, Grace, that feels so good."

He opened my towel and palmed my breasts, squeezing them gently and then rubbing his thumbs on my hardened nipples. I moaned and felt his cock jump underneath me. My sounds of pleasure turned him on. I loved that. I moaned again when he pinched my nipples gently and felt him jump beneath me again.

He played with my breasts for a few more minutes as he kissed my neck from behind and I rubbed my ass against him. We were both breathing hard now, the humming sound of the air conditioner and our gasps and moans the only things filling the room. It felt like electricity was running through my veins, sending hot bolts between my legs.

He reached his hand down and ran a finger between my folds. "Jesus, you're wet, baby. Is all that for me? So I can slide right inside? Tell me, Grace." His voice was thick, raspy.

One finger hit my spot and started circling slowly.

"Yes," I breathed out. "For you. Ahhh. Don't stop."

"For who, Buttercup?"

"For you, Carson, for you." I was panting unabashedly now, aching for him.

"That's good." He pressed his swollen length against my ass. "Is this what you want, Grace?"

"Yes, yes," I panted. I grabbed the towel and yanked it out from underneath me so that I could get closer to him.

He chuckled. "You'll get it. I'm gonna give it to you baby, but first you have to do something for me."

He continued fingering my clit with one hand and flicking my nipple with the other.

"What? Yes. I'll do it. What do you want me to do?" I'd do anything if he'd relieve me, if he'd fill the terrible, achy void.

I felt his grin against my shoulder as his finger sped up. "I want you to promise me you'll say my name when you come. I want to hear you scream it. Will you do that?"

"Yes, okay, yes." I was delirious with need now. I'd scream out anything he asked me to. I didn't know why he wanted that, and in that moment, I didn't care.

"Okay, good." He removed his hands from me and I made a gasping sound of loss. "Shhh. I gotta keep you safe, Grace." He reached into the bedside table drawer where he apparently threw some condoms at some point and grabbed one. Then he tore it open with his teeth. "Turn around," he said gently, and as I did, he slid the condom down his length.

I stared at his stiff cock jutting straight up and licked my lips in anticipation. He sat up a little bit straighter against the pillows in front of the headboard and said, "Come down on top of me." His voice was strained and his eyes were unfocused.

I leaned up and then sunk down on him, taking just the tip inside of me. We both gasped in pleasure. "Oh, God, that's it, baby, more," he grunted out.

I slid down lower until he was buried in me to the hilt.

He held on to my hips and guided me for a minute or two as I moved up and down on him. Even though I had never been in this position before, the arousal that was coursing through my body made me confident enough to begin directing the movement myself. I gasped as he adjusted his hips and hit that internal spot again. "Oh Godddd," I moaned. "Right there, please don't move." And then I began riding him in earnest, as he leaned back slightly and watched me with heavy-lidded eyes.

When my internal muscles began clenching and that tingly heat started spreading downward, I opened my eyes and looked right at Carson and gasped out, "I'm gonna come!" His eyes darkened and his hips bucked upwards as I threw my head back and screamed out his name, again and again.

Carson

As Grace screamed out my name, my own climax surged forward and I jerked my hips as I spilled myself into her, the pleasure pulsing through my cock in blissful spasms. I watched her ride out her orgasm, grinding down on me to milk out every last drop of pleasure, unknowingly doing the same for me. Fucking beautiful. Jesus, I hoped I had left enough room at the tip of the condom. I didn't think I'd ever come that much in my life.

As she raised her head, a small, satisfied smile on her face, she leaned forward and kissed me sweetly. "What if this backfires and you just end up ruining me for anyone else?" she asked teasingly, pushing the hair that had fallen low on my forehead back and out of my face.

"What happens if you end up ruining me for anyone else?" I asked back. I told myself I was teasing too.

She laughed, lying down on my chest. I was still semi-hard inside of her, just enjoying the feel of her skin on mine, running my hands up and down the silk of her back.

"I feel so damn sorry for that first guy. Never getting to hear you scream his name. Missed out. Sorry fucker."

Her body shook on top of mine in gentle laughter. "Who knew I was a screamer anyway? Think the manager will be by to kick us out soon?" She grinned against my chest and nipped at my skin with her teeth.

"Probably. We should stay in your room tonight–give the people on this floor a little rest." I grinned into her hair and she laughed again.

After a few minutes I said, "Okay, up. I'm not going to keep you locked in this room all day. Although it's tempting. We're gonna walk around and you're going to experience Vegas."

"Okay." She yawned. "Nap later?"

"It's a plan, Buttercup."

She winked at me. "Okay, good, come rinse off with me."

That sounded dangerous, but I was nothing if not a risk-taker.

An hour, a bottle of body wash and another orgasm later and we were dressed and ready to go.

I didn't have a specific destination in mind–we just walked down the strip, people watching and stopping in a casino here and there. She loved the casino at Paris which didn't surprise me. I teased her that she was like an old lady with the slot machines. She took out a couple of dollars and sat feeding them into the machine, sucking in a breath when she won twenty-seven back. We brought her ticket up to the redemption kiosk and I couldn't keep the grin off my face just watching her excitement. It was like this girl had lived under a rock all her life and someone had finally lifted it to show her the sky. I realized that I hadn't had just plain fun with a girl, maybe ever. And who would have guessed that the girl I first thought was an uptight little princess, would be the one to give that to me? I had said it to Grace and it was fucking true; life is wild.

I told her that while she was in Vegas, she needed to experience a buffet and so we walked to the Bacchanal Buffet at Caesars Palace. She got a plate and a half of food and then sat back with a look on her face like she had gorged herself. "I guess I didn't really get your money's worth, did I?"

I laughed. "Well considering that your first plate was all dessert, I'm not surprised."

"I just didn't want to get full and then miss out on all those cakes." She grinned. "I can't even remember the last time I ate cake."

"It was worth every penny then." I smiled.

"So Carson, obviously you work out to keep that physique of yours. You sure don't diet." She waved her hand toward my lunch, the plate piled high with seven different items from four different food stations.

I laughed around a mouthful. "I don't work out at the gym, but I surf and snowboard anytime I'm not traveling for work–any extreme sport and I'm there."

"Snowboarding? In California?" she wrinkled her brow.

"Yeah! Mammoth Mountain is less than five hours from L.A. and Tahoe is about seven. The snowboarding is great. I go with my buddies all the time."

"Hmmm. Sounds fun."

"Where are you from originally, Grace?"

"Ohio," she answered.

"I'm gonna assume you've never surfed. Have you ever snowboarded?"

She shook her head. "No, I've never done either. After my parents divorced, money was kinda tight. We never traveled."

"When did your parents divorce?" I asked.

"A couple years after my brother, Andrew, died. My mom just never really pulled herself out of the depression she sunk into," she said quietly. "My dad tried everything to help her move forward, but nothing worked. Eventually, she asked my dad for a divorce. I think just being around him, watching us all try to get back to life, it was too much for her. She resented us and she thought we were the reason she couldn't ever feel okay." She shrugged, but I saw the grief flash in her eyes. It still hurt her to think about what had happened to her family.

"So your dad raised you. Where did your mom go?"

"She moved across town. We went there on the weekends for a while, but eventually those visits stopped. It was just too hard for us to be there–she would just start crying in the middle of dinner, and if any of us ever raised our voice for any reason, she couldn't handle it. She checked into a hospital to try to have her depression treated when I was fourteen and she seemed to get a little better. But she's never completely come back. My sisters and I see her once a year or so, usually around the holidays. She's living with a boyfriend now who's pretty nice. She seems to be doing okay." She looked down.

Jesus, no wonder she was such a control freak. Her whole fucking world had fallen apart when she was just a kid.

"Hey," I said, reaching for her hand across the table. "Thanks for sharing that with me."

She laughed a small laugh. "I didn't even make you sink a basket for that one."

I smiled. "We're too good at that game anyway–let's just skip the formalities from now on and move straight to the secret." I winked. "But fair is fair. I owe you one."

She grinned at me and tapped her chin. "Hmmm. Okay, tell me about why you traveled around Europe–and where you went." Her eyes shined. It must sound cool to someone who had never been out of Ohio her whole life.

"Well, like I said, when my granny died, I got a little bit of money. I had lived in Massachusetts with her briefly, but other than that, I hadn't ever lived outside of California, and so I decided to bum around Europe for a little while–just go wherever I wanted–see where the wind took me." I smiled and her eyes widened.

"That sounds terrifying."

I laughed. "No, it was awesome. I loved traveling. Just me and my backpack–no itinerary, no specific destination. I went to Rome, Barcelona, Florence, Venice, Paris… the most incredible places in the world. Then I ran out of money and came home." I laughed again and she smiled at me.

"You're a really brave person, Carson."

I stared at her. "Nah, not brave, just open-minded."

When we got back to the hotel, it was about three o'clock and so we decided to enjoy the pool for a little bit. We parted ways at her floor and planned to meet in the lobby in twenty minutes.

I let myself into my room and noticed right away that it had been cleaned. Fresh sheets for me and Grace to dirty up again tonight. I smiled to myself.

I changed into my swim trunks in minutes and picked up my phone to call my agent, Tim. Shit, this was not going to be pleasant. I had been scheduled for three fan signings today–all of which I had blown off. And Tim had flown in this morning to help manage them.

I sat on the end of the bed as his phone rang.

"You had better be dead and calling me from the afterlife right now."

"Would that get me off the hook?"

"No, but you'd be safe from me. Otherwise, I'm going to kick your ass all over Vegas. Where the fuck are you Carson?"

"Uh, I'm still in Vegas. I just came down with a nasty, nasty virus. Seriously–I couldn't even get out of bed."

"Really? Because Chastity Aurora said she saw you gorging yourself on cake at Caesars Palace today with some little blonde."

I closed my eyes. Fucking Chastity Aurora. Slutty, little tattletale. I sighed. "Listen, Tim, I'm gonna be upfront with you. I hate that shit, you know that. It was unprofessional of me, but I blew off the signings. I'm sorry I put you in a bad spot, but I can't do those anymore. If you set me up with more of them, I'm gonna have to find a new agent."

"Carson, this isn't exactly the time to threaten to fire me. I should be firing you, after I kick your ass." He sighed. "Listen, I already put out a press release apologizing to your fans on your behalf. I said that a family emergency came up, so roll with that if you're asked. You don't have to give details. And then don't ever make me look bad again in public, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"All right–go back to your virus. You don't have any other scheduled events this weekend. Your room's paid for and you have to give twenty-four hour notice for cancellations or I'd send you back to L.A. tonight. But Carson, I'll see you at your shoot on Monday. Ten a.m. Be there."

"I'll be there, Tim. Thanks." I hung up.

I threw the phone on the bed and sat with my head in my hands for several minutes, trying to get back in a better headspace. The only reason Tim had even been as lenient with me as he'd been was because I'd already made him a good amount of money with a couple films. And my potential to make him more was off the charts. I knew that. And so did he.

Grace. I just wanted to see Grace. I didn't want to think about any of this shit. I didn't want to think about what I had to return to on Monday.

CHAPTER 8

Grace

I opened my room door and used the bathroom to freshen up before pulling on my suit and cover up. I checked my phone and there was a message from my sister, Julia, just calling to chat. I texted her quickly telling her I was in Vegas for my law conference and that I'd call her when I got back Monday. She texted back right away.

Totally forgot that was this weekend! Enjoy? Haha. Talk Mon. xxoo

Oh, I was enjoying. She had no idea. My little sister was more of a free spirit than me and she liked to tease me about my drive, telling me constantly that I needed to loosen up. Would she be happy or horrified by what I was up to this weekend? Probably both. Of course, I wouldn't tell her–she was my baby sister and I wanted to be a good example to her. I didn't think what I was doing this weekend exactly fit the bill.

There was also a call from Abby asking me to give her the go-ahead to paint the kitchen "Green Apple."

I sat on the edge of the bed and dialed her number. "Hey, babe, do I have the green light on the 'Green Apple'?" she asked. We never answered with a simple "hi." It was our thing.

"Aren't you supposed to be laying around not scratching yourself?"

"Ugh. I need a distraction. Scratching myself is better than sex right now. If I don't do something, I'm going to start master-scratching. Scratchy-bating? What's the proper term for self-pleasuring through vigorous, non-recommended scratch-athons?"

I was laughing out loud now. "You have the green light on the 'Green Apple.' Please go distract yourself. Paint my room while you're at it."

"Okay. I just might. How's the ultra-stimulating law conference?"

I paused. "Um, ultra-stimulating just about says it, Abs. You have no idea." I let out a nervous laugh.

Abby was quiet for a beat. "Spill, Grace. What in the world is going on?"

I bit my lip. "You might be worried about me Abby. I'm kinda worried about myself."

"Well now I am worried. What, Grace?"

I speed talked. "Remember how you told me to take the hot porn star I mentioned up to my room and let him teach me a few tricks? Well, I did. Only we went to his room. And he did. Teach me some stuff. Some really great, amazing, stuff I nev–"

"WHAT?" Abby screamed so loudly that I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

"Who are you and what have you done with Grace?"

"Abby! I know, I know, okay, quiet. Listen, it's kind of a long story. After I talked to you, we got trapped in an elevator and he… well, he grew on me, I guess? It's hard to explain. He has this really soft side, and yes, I know what he does. But God, he's really sexy, like in a way that I had no idea even existed. And I just thought, what does a weekend hurt, you know?"

"Uh… um, huh. I'm just stunned, honey. My little Type A Gracie Hamilton, the girl with a plan? Are you sure this is a good decision? I mean, are you using condoms? Geez, I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

I sighed. "I'm having fun, Abby. And I haven't had fun, really, well, ever. Don't judge me."

"Oh honey, I'm not judging you. Listen, I trust you, okay? And if this guy got you to bend your own rules and put that excitement in your voice, then there must be something special about him. Just… please remember what he does and keep reminding yourself that it's just a weekend, okay? And then when you get back, you're spreading the porn star, sex trick wealth."

I laughed. "Deal. I love you, Abby."

"I love you, Gracie. Oh! What's his name, in case you go missing."

"Abby! I'm not going to go missing! His name is Carson Stinger. He's from L.A."

"Okay, stay safe. Call me tomorrow morning. Seriously."

"Okay, I will. Bye, Abs."

"Bye, Pod Person."

I hung up the phone smiling and headed down to the lobby.

When I stepped off the elevator, Carson was standing with one narrow hip propped against the wall at the corner of the bank of elevators, doing something on his phone again. He pressed a button and stuck it in his pocket, and then looked up and saw me coming toward him. The smile he shot me made my heart pick up a beat. God, that little dimple below his mouth practically put me over the edge each time he smiled. I was a slave to that tiny dimple. I smiled back, shaking my head slightly. "What?" he asked as I met him and we started walking toward the pool.

"Nothing, I was just thinking that right where you were standing, that's where we ran into each other. Who would have ever guessed after that encounter, that less than six hours later, I'd be moving in to your hotel room?" I grinned up at him.

"Not surprised, babe. I predicted that one. Just took you a little while to catch up." He put his arm around me.

I elbowed him in the side. "You probably did, you egomaniac."

He laughed, but then his face went serious as he steered me out another exit from the one we were headed toward. "Sorry, I just saw some people who might recognize me and I didn't want to deal with them."

I frowned. People from his business, here for the expo, I was assuming. My chest felt tight and I pushed the feeling away–nothing good could come from thinking too much about his "co-workers." Did he see a woman he had made a film with? I couldn't bring myself to ask.

Carson looked down at me with regret on his face. "Sorry, Grace, do you mind if we go to one of the pools further away from the entrance?"

I shook my head. "That's probably a better idea for me too," I said quietly.

We walked through the pool area to a less-crowded section closer to the back and put our towels and my bag down on two loungers with a little bit of shade.

"Need me to put some sunblock on for you?" he asked.

I nodded. "If you could get my back…" I said, taking off my cover-up.

He took the bottle I handed him and started lathering up my back. Then he kissed the side of my neck and handed the sunblock back to me. "Thanks." I smiled, applying sunblock to the rest of my body.

I sat down on my lounger, but he turned and walked over to a family sitting a few loungers down and asked them a question. They nodded and pointed to an orange raft lying to the side of them. Carson picked it up and started walking back toward me calling behind him, "Thanks! I'll return it."

Then he took my hand and pulled me up. "Wait! I thought we were going to lay out for a little while before going in the water."

"Who said that? There wasn't a plan. We do what we do when we wanna do it, remember? And right now, I wanna swim with you."

"Okaaay. Well, what if I don't want to swim right now?"

"Then I do this." And then he dropped the raft and picked me up and tossed me right in the water.

I came up sputtering, madder than a hatter. The water was only about as high as my shoulders where he had tossed me and so I stood up, glaring at him as he grinned down at me from the side of the pool. "I cannot believe you just tossed me in the pool!"

"Well, believe it. I did," he said, throwing the raft in the water and then walking his perfect body to the deeper end and executing the most perfect dive I'd ever seen, slicing straight through the water.

Before I could even blink, he had swum underwater to me and was pulling me under by my legs. I opened my eyes under the water, making my most angry face at him as he met my eyes and grinned. God damn him, he was even beautiful underwater with air bubbles coming out of his nose.

He let go of me and I surfaced, smoothing my hair back. He surfaced a second later laughing and running his hand through his hair. "Don't be mad, Buttercup. I just couldn't wait to get slippery again with you."

I glared at him for another second, but I couldn't maintain my anger at him, looking at me with that innocent expression, water droplets sticking to his impossibly long eyelashes.

I shook my head, not able to contain the smile that made its way to my face. "You really are an asshole. I can't believe you threw me in the pool. No one has ever thrown me in a pool."

He swam up to me, pulling my body to his and swirling us around in the water. "That's a shame. You're so pretty soaking wet." He leaned in and kissed me lightly on my lips, and then kissed each of my eyes and then my nose. Okay, he was forgiven.

"You're a really good swimmer," I noted.

He nodded. "When you grow up in hotels and cheap apartments, all with pools, you tend to spend a lot of time perfecting your swim strokes." He paused. "I didn't have much else to do. Some kids play basketball. I swam."

I studied him. "I guess I was under the impression that because your mom was… famous… that you had money."

"Hard to have anything when you spend everything you have on non-prescribed prescription drugs. And I know I used the word 'famous' before, but I would probably say 'well known' is a better term. But in the business, that doesn't always translate into 'well paid.' It just means she was willing to do things others weren't."

I stared at him, my heart hurting. What must it have been like for a little boy to know what his mom was doing every time she went off to a job like that? We were at the pool though and this wasn't the time to ask him any more questions.

I changed the subject. "Why'd you borrow that raft?" I asked, nodding my head toward it, floating nearby.

"Because I want to prove a point," he said, swimming to it and pulling it back to me.

"Oh God, is this part of your Titanic therapy?" I asked. "Listen, I'm not a professional. And I really think this requires one."

He winked at me. "Never let go, baby. Come on, work this through with me. I need you, Grace."

I laughed. And then we spent the next half an hour trying to get us both up on that narrow raft without tipping over. Every time he rolled off, he would sink under, holding one hand up in his imitation of a human popsicle. I was laughing so hard my face hurt.

Finally he was able to hold himself steady enough that he could drag me on top of him and we both lay there, eyes wide, moving as little as possible. A slow grin spread across his face and he whispered to me, "I knew it."

"Never let go, baby," I whispered back.

He laughed and that was all it took for us to capsize.

Carson

We got out of the water and dried off and collapsed on the lounge chairs. I kept one eye on Grace's little bikini-clad body as she closed her eyes and dozed off for a little while.

I walked over to the bar and ordered us a couple beers and when she stretched and opened her eyes a half an hour later, I handed her her drink. "Thanks. Sorry, was I out for long?"

"I'm glad you were. I need you well rested for tonight." I winked at her.

She smiled teasingly at me. "Why? Are we going to work through more emotional cinematic issues?"

I laughed. "Same one. Only we're gonna use the bed as the flotation device."

"You really do need extensive therapy, don't you? I might have to start charging."

I took the beer out of her hand and pulled her over on top of me. "Name your price. I'll pay it," I said, squeezing her ass and tickling her ribs.

"Ahhh! Carson, you're gonna make me pee on you," she squealed.

"Kinky. But not at the pool, baby. Not everyone's into that kinda smut. You're gonna shock some–"

"Grace? Is that you?" a male voice asked.

My head came up and Grace's whipped around. She sat up and was over on her own lounger so fast, my hands were still positioned where her ass had been milliseconds before.

There was a tall, brown haired guy in swim trunks standing at the end of our lounge chairs looking at Grace with a worried expression on his face.

"Parker! Hi. Oh my goodness. I didn't even know you'd be here this weekend! Hi!"

"Hi," he said, looking over at me, clearly waiting for an introduction. Grace ignored it.

"So, how are you enjoying the conference so far?" she asked, tilting her head and smiling at him. I saw his eyes dart down to her practically naked body before he answered, and I felt my hands clenching into fists.

"Uh, it's good. I really liked Professor Fulton's talk this afternoon. What did you think? I didn't see you there."

"Oh, um, I've been sitting in the back mostly. Yeah, the talk was good. Very informative." She nodded her head vigorously. I wondered if this geeky bozo could see how full of shit she was. If he couldn't, he didn't know her very well. That thought made me want to smirk, but I held it in.

Finally, he just stuck his hand out to me and said, "Parker Grayson, I'm in school with Grace."

I held out my hand and opened my mouth to speak when Grace cut in, "This is Rick… Ryder. He's in law school at, uh, Stanford."

Parker looked dubious. "Stanford, huh? Great school. How do you two know each other?"

"Oh Rick's parents are friends of the family. You know. We go way back. Right, Rick?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Right."

"Oh, well it's cool that you two got to see each other here then. What's your law focus, Rick?"

I narrowed my eyes at Parker and glanced at Grace. She looked panicked. My eyes traveled down to her cleavage.

"Well, Parker, I would say my focus is parts inspection."

Parker looked confused. "Oh, you mean like the law surrounding industrial labor laws?"

"Sure Parker," I said.

Grace laughed nervously. "Well, it was great to see you. We'll have to do coffee when we get back."

Parker turned his confused face from me and grinned at Grace, his eyes sweeping her body again. "Sounds good. I'll call you."

"Okay." She waved at him.

I watched him turn his scrawny body and walk away. I was legions above him in the looks department, so why did I fucking hate Parker Grayson?

I turned back to Grace. "Rick Ryder?" I asked. "Nice save if you didn't want him to know what I do."

"He's too straight-laced to get it. Hell, yesterday, I wouldn't have gotten it." She fell back in her lounger, exhaling.

My chest felt tight and I wanted to punch something. "Ready?" I said, gathering our things.

"Oh, okay… if you are." She looked at me nervously. "Carson, I'm sorry, it just wouldn't look good for my career if it got out that I was canoodling with a porn star."

"Canoodling, Grace? Jesus, I don't even know what the fuck that is."

"You're mad," she said, biting her lip.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm just ready to leave."

She nodded and started grabbing her stuff too, putting it into her bag. It was then that I spotted Tawny Anderson, a girl who worked for the same company I did. She was a beautiful redhead with a killer body. I hadn't ever made a film with her, but she had propositioned me for some extracurricular time on many occasions. I had never taken her up on it.

She was standing at the bar a couple feet away with a girl I didn't recognize. "Hey Tawny," I called and she turned around, her eyes lighting up.

She walked over to me and met me right in front of Grace's chair. "Carson!" she squealed, kissing my cheek and pressing her large breasts into my chest.

I smiled suggestively at her. "Hey baby, how are you?" I asked, pulling her into me and gripping her ass.

"I'm great, gorgeous. I heard you had a family emergency. Anything I can help with?" She ran one finger down my chest.

"Maybe. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm sure I could think of something." She giggled. "But I thought you didn't mix business with pleasure."

"I might be able to make an exception for you," I said, raising my eyebrows and squeezing her ass tighter.

That's when Grace cleared her throat, and me and Tawny both turned our heads to see her standing there with her shoes and cover up on and her bag on her shoulder, looking for us to move so she could get by us.

"Who's she, Carson?" Tawny demanded.

"She's no one, babe," I said, and the look that came over Grace's face nearly brought me to my knees. She looked like I had just slapped her in the face and kicked her while she was down. I felt that look like a punch in the gut.

Grace didn't wait for us to move, but instead pushed past us, knocking Tawny off balance. "Watch it girlie!" Tawny said angrily. Grace didn't even look back.

"Anyway," Tawny said, turning back to me and taking my hand and replacing it on her ass, "where were we?"

I was such a stupid fuck up. Holy Christ. What had I done? I was so fucking hurt when she made me feel like an embarrassment, like a nothing in front of her friend. I had automatically reacted, trying to make her feel the same way too. And I'd succeeded. And it felt like shit. "Sorry, Tawny, I gotta go," I said, taking her by the shoulders and physically moving her out of my way.

"Wait, what? I thought we were gonna hang out!" she whined.

"You were right," I said over my shoulder. "I don't mix business with pleasure. Almost forgot for a minute there."

I jogged in the direction Grace had gone, looking around and finally spotting her going through the door to the hotel. I raced after her.

When I got inside, I ran to the elevators, hoping to find her waiting for one. I had fucked up. I had to make this right. She wasn't anywhere to be seen. I flashed my room card to the guard and pressed the "up" button furiously, swearing under my breath. When the elevator finally came, I jumped on and when a few people tried to follow me in, I held my hand up and said, "Sorry! Emergency! No one else is gonna ride this elevator!" They stepped back, confused, as I pushed Grace's room floor. No one else was gonna slow me down in getting to her. Panic coursed through me. Shit, I had done this. I had fucking done this.

When the elevator doors opened, I raced down the hallways and as I turned the corner, I saw Grace almost to her room, taking out her key card. When she heard me behind her, she turned, surprise filling her expression, the hurt still clear in her large, blue eyes.

She turned back around to her door.

"I'm sorry, Grace," I said, desperately.

She halted. "Nothing to be sorry for, Carson. You obviously have a life. I got in the way of it for a minute there. Please, don't let me interrupt the plans you have with Tawny."

"I don't have any plans with Tawny, Grace. I did that because I didn't like what happened with Parker. It made me feel like nothing and I wanted to do the same to you. It wasn't fair and I fucked up, and I'm sorry."

She studied me for a minute. "I understand. I'm sorry too. But this," she gestured between me and her, "isn't going to work. Not even for a weekend. I've had a nice time. But we both need to get back to our real lives. We don't make any kind of sense."

She slid her key in the slot at her door and when I heard the click indicating that it was open and she was about to go inside, I breathed out, "No one else has ever made me feel the way you do. Not even close. It scared me, Grace, and I reacted. But it's because you are far from nothing to me. You are far from nothing to me," I repeated, begging her with my eyes to forgive me.

She looked at me for another couple beats, expressionless and my heart dropped. Then she finally looked down at the floor and looked back up at me. "Do you wanna come inside, Rick?" she asked.

I laughed out a relieved laugh. "Yes, Buttercup, I do."

She nodded and held her door open to let me in.

CHAPTER 9

Grace

I held the door open as Carson walked in behind me. The lump that had been in my throat during the entire walk from the pool up to my room was starting to recede, but I still felt the lingering hurt over watching Carson with Tawny and what he had said to her about me. I had asked myself all the way up to my room why that stung so damn much that I wanted to roll into a ball and cry. But I had hurt him too. I just hadn't realized it at the time. I thought he would understand why I couldn't flaunt the fact that I was spending time with an adult film star. That was the kind of thing that could come out later and ruin my career as a lawyer–especially in D.C. where politics always came into play. I had thought he would roll with it and laugh it off after Parker walked away. It's why I had come up with that dumb name on the spot–trying to put a private joke out there for Carson. I hadn't meant to make him feel like he was nothing, that's not how I felt. But our lives didn't mix. Those encounters at the pool made that blatantly obvious. This was supposed to be a weekend of fun, of letting go temporarily, and then going back to exactly what I had been doing before I came to Vegas. Was this thing with Carson morphing into something dangerous for both of us? If feelings got involved, even on a basic level, where did that leave us when all was said and done?

I didn't know what to do. The logical part of me was telling me to end this and walk away, despite the fact that I liked him and we had this electric chemistry. The emotional part of me was holding on, but to what, I didn't know and it didn't make sense.

He was an enigma to me–stinging me one minute and then soothing me the next–with his words, his touch, his smile.

Shit, shit, shit! This had become complicated and I'd only spent a day and a half with him.

I dropped down on the bed and looked at Carson, now standing with his hip against the corner of the wall, arms crossed casually, studying me. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? It was his poison and he'd injected it into me–I was infected. I laughed humorlessly, ending on a sigh.

"What?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Us." I raised both arms and dropped them. "What are we doing, Carson?"

He looked down, sliding his teeth up his bottom lip and worrying his brow. "What do you want to be doing, Grace?"

I looked down. I wanted to be spending time with him. But I wanted it to make sense. I was pretty sure my whole "Guy Number Two" cover was blown, for me anyway. I had done a good job of convincing myself that that was the reason I agreed to spend the weekend with him, but had it ever actually been the case? Maybe not. Something about him drew me in and made me want to stay, break all my rules, throw all my well-made plans out the door, experience things I'd never allowed myself to experience, want things I'd never allowed myself to want. He wasn't part of my plan as I'd convinced myself–he was the antithesis of my plan. And I wasn't sure anymore if that was bad or good. But did it even matter? We couldn't be any more than a weekend, it wasn't possible. For too many reasons to count. And I was pretty sure that it was going to be hard to walk away Monday morning, knowing that that was it. Definitively. Was it worth it to make it that much harder by spending another day with him?

Carson came and squatted before me, resting his arms on my knees and looking up into my eyes. "Listen, Buttercup, clearly this weekend arrangement has changed into something that we didn't necessarily expect it to. We're friends." He smiled. "Who would have guessed? And I for one, want to spend the rest of the weekend with my friend. Do you want that too?"

I looked down at him. Is that what we were? Friends? Friends who had sex for the weekend? I guess maybe that was better than strangers who had sex for the weekend. And really, how much harder was it going to be to walk away in thirty-six hours, rather than right now? I couldn't see things changing much by Monday morning. I would survive. It would suck because I liked him, but I would do it and it would be okay. By the time I'd touched down in D.C., reality would be back in focus and I'd resume my life.

"Yes, I want that too."

He shot me that heart-melting smile that went straight to my head like fine champagne. "Good. I'm going to go up to my room and get dressed for dinner, and then I'm taking you somewhere nice. Can you be ready in half an hour?"

I nodded. "I have that gift certificate," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but I want to take you out so I'm not using your gift certificate."

"Why? We both earned it for getting stuck in that elevator."

"Because it's important to me to treat you, that's all. End of story."

I bit my lip. I needed to say one final thing about what happened at the pool before I could put it to rest. "I hated seeing you touch her, Carson, and that scared me too," I said quietly.

He closed his eyes for a beat, dropping his head. When he looked back up into my eyes, his own were filled with regret. "I used her to get back at you. It was wrong on so many levels." He shook his head slightly. "I didn't know what to do with it. I've never been… jealous before. It was unchartered waters."

"You were jealous?" I asked. "Of Parker?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to drown him in the pool."

I laughed, but quickly covered my mouth and shook my head. "That's not nice."

He smiled. "No, it's not. It's also illegal. So I held myself back and chose to be an asshole instead." His face went serious. "I really am sorry."

I smiled and said softly, "Me too." I paused, looking into his sincere eyes. "Half an hour?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Half an hour."

On his way to standing up, he stopped and brushed his lips on mine. "See you soon."

He walked out the door and I fell back on the bed. "Life is wild," I reminded myself quietly.

After a few minutes, I got up and hopped in the shower. I shaved everywhere and then got out and patted myself dry. I spritzed on some perfume, just a little, and then blew my hair dry and used a curling iron until it fell down my back in soft curls. I applied a little more makeup than I usually did, including two coats of mascara to darken my light brown lashes. They wouldn't be anywhere near as lush as Carson's, but nature was cruel that way; giving long, dark lashes to boys who didn't appreciate them. I kept my mind on mundane things while I got ready, turning on the radio and singing along to a few songs as I got dressed.

Not knowing if I'd go out to a nice dinner or not while I was here at the conference, I had only brought one cocktail dress, a little black number that I had borrowed from Abby that was hanging in the closet. It was short and strapless with an eyelet lace embellished waist and skirt that flared out. It was sexy, yet demure. I loved it and I hoped Carson would too. I slipped on my black heels just as I heard a knock at my door.

When I opened it, Carson was standing there in a pair of black dress slacks and a light, sage green shirt that did all kinds of crazy things to the color of his hazel eyes. He had obviously done a little something with his hair–slicked it back slightly. He started to grin, but then his face went serious as he looked me up and down. "Not nice, Buttercup."

I laughed. "What do you mean?"

"How am I supposed to sit through an entire meal when all I'm going to be thinking about is getting you back up to my room and fucking you senseless? That dress does crazy things to me."

I laughed and shook my head as I grabbed my room key and my license. I handed them to Carson. "Do you have room in your pocket for these?" I asked.

He took them and put them in his back pocket as he took my arm.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we stepped on to the elevator.

"I made a reservation at Olives. That okay?"

"Yes. I mean, I haven't been to any of the restaurants here."

He pulled me to him as the elevator made its descent, enveloping me in that singular scent that made my hormones flash fire through my body. I couldn't help leaning into him and sticking my nose in his neck, inhaling deeply.

He chuckled. "You like the way I smell, Buttercup?"

"Mmmm," I breathed, not coming up for air.

"I like the way you smell too," he whispered. "It makes me hard." And I could feel that indeed it did.

I leaned back, looking up at him, that spark flaring between us.

"Do you have running shoes?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow, confused at the unexpected change of subject. "Planning on ditching the bill?" I asked.

He laughed. "No, I was thinking we could go hiking tomorrow morning if you're up for it. Red Rock Canyon has some beautiful trails. We'd have to go early though. In the summer, it gets pretty hot by the afternoon."

We stepped off the elevator.

"I'd like that," I said. "I did bring running shoes. Remember though, I have to be back for the one conference presentation at two. I'm trying to get into a law class in the fall and the professor who teaches it is presenting tomorrow."

"We'll be back in plenty of time for that." He looked at me. "What time does your flight leave on Monday?"

"Six a.m." I said quietly. "Yours?"

"Seven. We could ride to the airport together."

I nodded but decided I didn't want to think about that. We were here now and I was going to enjoy the last of our time together.

We arrived at Olives and I looked around. It was beautiful, with the same Mediterranean style as the rest of the Bellagio. I waited back a bit as Carson leaned in and spoke to the hostess. She giggled and nodded her head and he smiled back at me, offering me his arm as we followed the hostess to our table. We walked out on to the balcony, overlooking Lake Bellagio where we had watched the fountain show and I gasped. "It's beautiful," I whispered. Carson just smiled at me and pulled out my chair. "It's not hot dogs on the strip, but I figured, we gotta eat, even if we have to slum it." He winked at me.

I looked around. Everything surrounding me was filled with light. The glow from the strip shined in the distance, the water sparkled, and the twinkle lights adorning the balcony danced. It felt magical, like another world. I looked up at Carson and he was studying me. "What are you thinking?" he asked taking my hand across the table.

I looked into his eyes, deciding that just for tonight, I was going to experience everything I could and enjoy every minute of it. Life is wild, Carson was right. Or it could be, if you let it. I was going to let it. I was going to clear my mind and soak in the beauty of everything around me–the location, the food, the man sitting across from me. I was going to live for all the years I had rejected relationships that might have come naturally if I hadn't been overly focused on other things, and for all the years I had made choices that I thought would make other people happy, never considering what would make me happy. Carson had infected me, it was true, but maybe his looks weren't the only part of his poison. Maybe it was his spirit too. And maybe when it came to Carson, just like a vaccine, a little poison was the cure, not the disease.

There would be consequences to this weekend, I knew that now and I wasn't lying to myself anymore. But maybe they wouldn't all be negative. Maybe I would walk away a better person because of my encounter with this man. Yes, it sure was, life was wild.

"What I was thinking, Carson, is that I feel lucky to be here with you tonight."

His eyes warmed and a small smile turned his full lips up right before something that looked like surprise skated over his features.

I raised the glass of wine that we had ordered and that the waiter had just placed on our table. "To life being wild," I smiled.

He raised his glass. "To well-made plans," he smiled back.

Carson

I watched Grace across the table, her eyes shining as she looked around at all the sights. I loved it. I wanted to show her more. I wanted to give her all the experiences I could. I wanted to watch her big, blue eyes widen in delight, not just at the things I could do to her body, but with all the experiences she had deprived herself of for so long. I wanted to show her things she'd never seen before. I wanted to take her snowboarding on a mountain at twilight, I wanted to make love to her in the bright sunshine on a beach somewhere exotic. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had something to offer other than my body. But the wanting felt like a double edged sword–it made me feel alive in a way I'd never felt alive before, but it filled me with regret to know that I could never have any of it with this girl.

But maybe the wanting of it in and of itself was a good thing. Maybe Grace had opened my eyes to the possibility that I could be more, that life could be more. Something about that filled me with a feeling I couldn't identify in that moment–something I'd think about later.

We ordered dinner and Grace smiled across the table at me.

"So, Carson," she said, "should I trust you to take me hiking out in the desert, all alone? I'm not going to 'mysteriously' disappear tomorrow morning, am I?" She raised an eyebrow.

I chuckled. "Not because I'm planning on burying you in a shallow grave, but there is a real risk of me pouncing on you like a desert hyena because you're irresistible." I looked at her very seriously, not cracking a smile.

She burst out laughing. "I guess the authorities could trace me by following the trail of torn and discarded clothes?"

I took a drink of wine. I never drank wine. But tonight seemed to call for it. "And the scream of my name echoing through the canyons," I said, my eyes drooping slightly against my own will, and my cock throbbing in my pants at the memory. God I loved to hear Grace scream my name. Nothing like it.

She cleared her throat. "Speaking of which, should we stay in my room tonight? It hasn't even been used."

"No, I decided I like having you in my room."

She tilted her head, taking a sip of her own wine. "Why?"

"I don't know. Something about having you in my lair." I winked.

She rolled her eyes. "More like your sex den, desert hyena."

I laughed. "I like that even better."

Our food came–I had ordered the Ribeye and Grace had ordered the Salmon. We ate quietly for a few minutes. "Mmmm, this is fantastic," Grace moaned.

"Do you go out to eat a lot?" I asked.

"No, rarely. I have a scholarship that pays my expenses too, but there's not a lot left over at the end of the month." She shrugged. "I don't have a lot of time to do anything except study anyway. It'll pay off." She took a drink of her wine, looking over the rim at me.

"I'm sure it will," I said. "What's your law focus anyway?" I cut a piece of meat and speared it and stuck it in my mouth.

"Corporate law."

I looked at her for a minute. "God, that sounds about as exciting as the patented burp of the Tupperware container."

She covered her mouth as she laughed out loud. "It's actually very interesting."

"Oh yeah? What's interesting about it?"

She looked up, thinking for a minute. Then she looked straight at me and laughed as she shook her head. "Nothing. There's nothing interesting about it at all."

"Then why did you choose it?"

She sighed. "My dad works in the criminal justice system. He sees all the stuff that goes down everyday with prosecutors and defense attorneys… all the b.s. they have to deal with, all the awful stories they hear. I asked for his advice and he thought corporate law would be a good, safe, solid career choice." She nodded, as if convincing herself.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Your dad chose it, huh?"

"Carson–" she said, with a warning tone in her voice. "This isn't about me pleasing my dad. This is about me asking someone who has a lot of experience in the field to guide and direct me, that's all."

"Hmmm… okay, so if you hadn't had your dad to guide and direct you, what would you have chosen?"

She stared at me for a minute, a small frown on her face. "I'd really like to be a prosecutor," she said quietly, and then looked down at her food, her cheeks turning pink and shame filling her expression, like she had just admitted that she wanted to eat my liver with a fine Chianti.

I nodded, but she remained quiet. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable with this line of questioning, and so I changed the subject. "So, Las Vegas is known for its nightclubs. Do you wanna go to one after dinner?"

She took a sip of her wine and looked up at me with warmth in her eyes. "Actually, Carson, if it's okay with you, I'd rather go back up to your hotel room."

"Check please," I said, pretending to look around for our waiter.

She laughed. We chatted through the rest of dinner, and then the waiter cleared our dishes and I paid the bill. I took Grace's hand in mine and we headed back upstairs. My body was humming with anticipation, but more than that, something had deepened between Grace and me today. I couldn't experience all the things I wanted to with her, but we still had time left together–and I wasn't going to waste a second of it.

CHAPTER 10

Grace

We hopped on the elevator with two other couples and began our ascent to Carson's room. One of the couples got off at the next floor and we rode in silence with the remaining couple, until they too got off a couple floors later. As soon as the doors shut, I found myself pressed to the elevator wall by six feet of hard, really amazing smelling man. I moaned out even before his mouth came down on mine. I expected the kiss to be wild, filled with passion, but he took his time as he pressed against me, his hands stroking down the sides of my body, our tongues tangling slowly. The style of the kiss didn't seem to go along with the location–on an elevator where anyone could potentially catch us–and for some reason, this fact sent flames of want shooting through my body. Carson had kissed me in lots of different ways in the last day and a half. But this kiss was my favorite. This kiss felt like it was personalized just for me–I couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but something about that kiss was different than any before it. Our bodies fit together perfectly, our tongues moved together like a slow tango. I was dizzy with desire.

The doors opened and Carson pulled away from me slowly, leaving me blinking and breathless, apparently unconcerned about anyone seeing us kissing in the elevator. We stepped off and I walked on legs that felt like Jell-O down the corridors to his room.

The door shut behind us and he was on me again–pushing me up against the door, kissing me hard and deep. When he broke away, he gazed down at me, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip. "I can't get enough of you," he whispered, his eyes stormy, his expression tense. Then his mouth was on mine again, my tongue meeting his, my hands in the silk of his hair.

Carson suddenly scooped me up and carried me to the bed, setting me down right next to it. He took my shoulders and turned me around slowly, unzipping my dress. I felt his warm mouth kiss down my back as the zipper sliding down revealed more and more skin. I shivered, my nipples puckering at the erotic sensation of his mouth touching me somewhere unexpected.

My dress dropped to the floor and I stepped out of it and moved it aside with my foot. When Carson's hands weren't immediately on me again, I glanced over my shoulder to see him staring at me with a look that was intense and hungry, his eyes moving down my bare back, to the small, black thong exposing most of my backside, down to my heels. "You're stunning, Buttercup. If I could paint, I'd paint you right now, just like this."

I turned back around, smiling a small smile, relaxing my shoulders when I saw the look of intense appreciation on his face. Compliments usually made me uncomfortable. But for some reason, Carson's compliment made me feel warm and relaxed, and I knew by his expression that I had no reason to doubt his sincerity.

After several seconds, I felt his warm body move up against mine. He brought his hands around me to palm my breasts, his fingers drawing lazy circles around my nipples. I laid my head back on his shoulder, sighing with the pleasure his touch brought. "Carson," I breathed out as he continued to rub my nipples gently, causing butterflies to take flight in my ribcage and sparks to shoot between my legs. In minutes, I was wet and ready for him, just like always.

I rocked my hips gently against his hardness and he sucked in a breath. "The things you do to me, Buttercup," he ground out, "I didn't know…" but he trailed off there, not finishing the thought. I wondered what he had been about to say, but my lust was so all-encompassing that when his hand wandered down between my breasts in the direction of my hot core, all questions vanished, and I held my breath with the sweet anticipation of his touch right where I so desperately needed it.

Just as his hand reached my belly button, he stepped away from me and I made a whimpering sound of loss. "Shhh, Buttercup," he said, "I just want to be able to feel you skin on skin."

I didn't look around as I heard him taking off his clothes. Then he was back against me and I moaned at the sensation of his warm muscles against my soft curves, his erection hot and hard poking into my lower back. He was so supremely masculine, I felt feminine in a way I never had before. I relished it, discovering this side of myself for the very first time. I didn't have to be in control here, nor did I want to. I trusted him. I loved the way he talked, the things he said when we were intimate, the way he took control and told me what to do. It made me feel safe, taken care of, and hotter than I'd ever in my life felt before.

He rubbed my nipples for another minute and kissed and licked down my neck and then he said, "Bend over the bed, Grace." He sounded strained.

Heat rolled through my belly at his words and I started to take my thong off, but his hand stopped me. "Leave it on."

"But–" I started to say, looking back around at him.

"Leave it on," he repeated.

I nodded, turning my head back around.

"Spread your legs," he said gently.

I did as he said and then bent forward over the bed. For several seconds, there was no movement behind me again. "Fucking perfect," he whispered, right before I heard the condom wrapper being ripped open. Not knowing exactly what was happening behind me and when it would happen, had my blood raging and my body trembling. I wanted to cry with the desperate need that was clawing through my body now, the deep ache pulsating in my core.

I felt him push my thong aside and although I expected to feel the blunt tip of him push inside me, instead what speared inside my opening was his warm, wet tongue. I cried out with the unexpected sensation, made up of equal parts physical pleasure and the mental shock of the picture of him behind me, lapping at me from that angle.

He reached underneath me, using his middle finger to draw lazy circles on my clit as he continued to plunge his tongue slowly in and out of me. I couldn't help it, I writhed down on his face, gasping, feeling an orgasm just within reach. "Faster, please, Carson," I panted out. How was it exactly that he always managed to make me beg? I wanted, needed, to come so badly, and his movements, although delicious, were just too slow to tip me over the edge.

He ignored me though, instead licking backwards, over my, oh my God! Was he really licking me there? I tensed up slightly, but he kept moving upwards, licking up the seam of my ass until he hit my lower back and then kissed my skin lightly. His movement stopped again and I almost screamed out in frustration. If he wasn't inside me in the next three seconds, I was going to take matters into my own hands. I was so worked up I thought I was going to combust.

But then I felt him push my thong aside again and then finally the blunt tip of his cock at my entrance. I leaned back into it, moaning greedily. He pulled it back though and I made an angry sound of frustration in my throat. "Stay still, please," he said. Despite the please, it sounded like an order, not a request.

I nodded my head, too desperate to form words. I briefly considered turning around and jumping on top of him, and forcing him to take me, right before I felt him at my entrance again. I was trembling with the effort to stay still, but when he saw that I was going to, he pushed in a little bit. We both moaned out together. "You're even tighter from this angle, Grace. Jesus."

I dropped my head and he pushed in all the way, filling me completely. Oh God, that's amazing.

He started moving slowly, his hands holding my hips steady. I tilted my backside up toward him, wanting him as deep as possible. He moaned out, "Grace," as his thrusts picked up in speed.

"I wish you could see this, baby. I wish you could see me pumping inside of you. It's so beautiful. You're so beautiful." His voice panted out with his movements, sounding thick.

I closed my eyes and pictured what it must look like and moaned at the image my mind created. He reached around and put his hand under my thong and started massaging my clit again to the rhythm of his thrusts, one hand still on my hip. He had never made any sounds during any of the other times we had had sex, but this time he let out little grunts with each thrust. Something about those little sounds sent me over the edge and I screamed out his name as I came, hard and fast, intense ecstasy tightening my body.

"Oh fuck," Carson grunted behind me slamming into me one final time and then groaning in release.

My whole body was vibrating with the receding waves of pleasure, my legs shaking from the effort to support the rest of my body.

Carson pulled out of me and I turned around and fell onto the bed. I looked up into his eyes and saw something close to awe as he smiled down at me. He followed me down to the bed and took my mouth, kissing me slowly and deeply one final time, then leaning up and looking into my eyes. "Damn," he murmured.

I smiled lazily. "Yeah," I said, smiling bigger.

He disposed of the condom and then we climbed into bed together, me snuggling into his warm, hard chest.

Carson

I held Grace, stroking lazily up her arm for a few minutes, reflecting on what we had just shared. It was a base position to have sex in and despite that, I had felt more connected to Grace than I ever had to anyone I had been with. Emotionally connected. I had been about to tell her that I didn't know it could be this way, but as the words came to my lips, I thought better of it. That felt dangerous. This was about one weekend, nothing more. I was confused, and I didn't ever remember being confused. It was a new feeling for me. Confusion indicated possibilities, choice, but what were my choices in this situation? There were none.

I looked down at her and she smiled a small smile at me before she closed her eyes. I leaned down and kissed both lids and she smiled, opening them again to look at me. She leaned up and put her hands flat against my chest, one on top of the other and then rested her chin on them, looking up at me.

"Hi. How are you?" She grinned.

I laughed. "My granny used to say, 'fine as frog hair!' when anyone asked her that. I never knew what the fuck it meant. That just popped into my mind." I grinned down at her.

She smiled. "Tell me about your granny."

"She was a sweet lady. I went to stay with her most summers and then, like I said, when my mom went to rehab. She taught me things." I was silent for a minute, picturing her, hearing her voice in my head.

"What kinds of things?" she asked gently.

"All kinds of things. How to mow the lawn, how to sneak up on a grasshopper, how to choose a cantaloupe at the store." I grinned down at her. "Completely worthless things to a kid from L.A. It wasn't what she taught me so much as that she cared to do it."

She nodded up at me like she totally understood what I meant. I thought she probably did.

"She had a sadness about her too though, because of how my mom turned out." I was silent for a minute. "She never talked much about my mom, but I could tell there was lots of regret there."

"Where does your mom live now?" she asked.

I glanced down at her, surprised by her question. I didn't usually talk much about my mom–even to my closest buddies, but I had already shared things with Grace that I hadn't shared with anyone else. Any question she asked felt comfortable now, normal. I trusted her.

"My mom still lives in L.A.," I answered. "Not too far from me."

She nodded. "Do you have a relationship with her?"

I sighed. "Yes and no. I talk to her every once in a while, but we're not close. She's gotten her life together more than she had when I was a kid, but there's just too much water under the bridge now. We don't really know each other. Being around her is just awkward."

She looked sad, her eyes moving away from mine for a couple seconds as she looked like she was thinking. "She doesn't… "

"Make films anymore?" I finished for her. "No. She lives with some guy. He's a jackass. We got into it one time about eight months ago when I went to see her and I haven't been back. But at least she's off the prescription meds now–or at least as far as I know."

She looked sad. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know what it's like not to have a mom–or at least, not one you can count on. But at least I had mine for the first eleven years of my life."

I thought about that. "Maybe that makes it harder, not easier, Buttercup."

She tilted her head slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I just mean that maybe having something good and then having to let it go is more painful than never knowing what you're missing."

She looked thoughtful. "Yeah, maybe," she said.

We were both quiet for a few minutes. I looked down at her and put a piece of hair behind her ear. "So pretty," I murmured.

She smiled a shy smile. "Do compliments make you uncomfortable?" I asked. She always looked just a little uncertain when I gave her one. Surely, she had to know how beautiful she was.

"They usually do, but I love hearing them from you," she said quietly. "I grew up with a dad who was a guy's guy, the 'strong, silent type.' He was a great dad, but he didn't ever tell us girls we were pretty. He wasn't the type to dish out compliments on any subject really." She looked thoughtful for a minute. "If he was happy with you, you knew it by the silent, prideful look in his eyes and maybe a chin lift in your direction. I learned to get that look and that chin lift with my accomplishments, never my looks." She shrugged slightly.

I nodded, thinking that in that regard, we were probably polar opposites. I got by on my looks, rarely the things I did, or didn't do. "Well, just for the record, you're beautiful. A beautiful little Buttercup." I smiled at her and she smiled back at me.

"And you're a beautiful desert hyena," she teased back.

I laughed. "I've been given a lot of compliments in my time, but I think that may have been the best one," I said.

She laughed back and then was quiet for a few seconds. "Tell me about your first time," she grinned up at me.

I put both hands up behind my head and gazed at the ceiling, faking dreamy recollection.

"Sandra Daniels. We were fifteen. I liked her, a lot. We spent one beautiful afternoon together at my apartment." I grinned down at Grace and then tilted my head. "The next day at school, as I was walking up to her locker with her favorite breakfast bagel in hand, I heard her telling her friend that now that she had gotten rid of her virginity, she could move on to someone serious who was more suited to a relationship, not just sex. I was crushed."

I grinned down at Grace, but Grace was the one who looked crushed. "Carson–"

"Oh no, no, don't get that look on your face. I was fifteen, Buttercup. I'm over it. Scout's honor." I held up two fingers in the Boy Scout salute.

She didn't smile and instead blinked at me and then looked down. When she finally looked up at me again, her eyes were filled with regret. "It's exactly like my stupid plan, isn't it?" she breathed. "It's awful. I'm awful."

"Whoa. Wait. I didn't tell you that story to try to compare you to her. I swear. You asked and that's how it happened. Like I said, we were fifteen. It's different."

She nodded, but then was still and quiet, a small frown on her face. "Carson, I want you to know something. I know that our little 'arrangement' this weekend started out like that, but well, I don't consider you 'Guy Number Two' anymore, and I never will. You're more than that to me. To me you're Carson, my special desert hyena." She attempted a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. She was being way too hard on herself–we had arranged this together. She didn't have anything to feel badly for, at least not in my book.

I grinned at her and kissed her forehead. "Well, I'll tell you what," I finally said, "I'm just glad this bed is so nice and big, because if you fall out in the middle of the night, I'm not going to have any problem dragging you back up. Never let go, baby."

She finally gave me a genuine smile, and I saw her relax. She brought one hand down to tickle my side.

I laughed out, turning to tickle her back. She squealed and we play-wrestled for a few minutes until I looked into her eyes and saw that she was turned on again. So was I. Fuck, my Buttercup was really going to be the end of me.

I leaned in and slanted my mouth over hers, kissing her until we were both panting and lust was shooting through my veins again, stiffening my cock.

I pushed the hair back out of her face and looked into those clear, blue eyes before I ran my nose down hers, and then brushed my lips over her mouth.

I reached my hand down between her legs to make sure she was ready to take me and when I felt the slippery wetness there, I moaned.

I lowered my head to lick her nipples, sucking one into my mouth and taking long pulls at it until she was grinding against me and pulling at my hair. I knew what I was doing in the bedroom, but Christ, how was it that this girl hadn't had one orgasm from the first doofus she was with? She was so damn responsive, perfect. He must have been the most un-skilled loser on the planet. I put him out of my mind as quickly as he had entered it. No one else was gonna be in this bed right now, just me and her.

I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom and slid it on as she watched, her eyes widening slightly when she took in my straining erection. Our eyes met and something passed between us, intense but tender. I didn't know what it was and in that moment, I didn't analyze it.

I took my cock in my hand and guided it to her opening and pushed inside her tight, silken warmth, never taking my eyes from hers. "Grace," I breathed out as I started to move inside her. I adjusted my angle so that I was hitting the internal spot on her inner wall. Her eyes closed on a moan and she wrapped her legs around me.

I brought my mouth down to hers and kissed her deeply, possessing her with my tongue and my cock, feeling something powerful surge up in my chest. I brought my mouth to her neck and licked and kissed the satiny soft skin there as she made gentle sighing sounds. "Mmmm… feels so good, Carson," she moaned out.

I loved that I was making her feel good, loved hearing her say my name, loved the tender look in her eyes as she watched me above her.

I moved in and out of her slowly and deeply, not speeding up the tempo, wanting it to last. "Carson, I want..." she moaned.

"What Grace? What do you want," I choked out.

"Everything. I want everything," she panted. "Everything you have to give."

My head came up from her neck and when her eyes met mine, they widened and burned into mine. I didn't want to look away from those eyes, I was lost in them, lost in her.

Heat pooled in my balls and pleasure circled through my abdomen as I sped up my rhythm. I reached down between us and circled my finger on her pleasure spot, eliciting a long moan from her. That moan shot through my body, ending at the base of my spine, the first tingles of an orgasm taking hold. She was going to be my undoing, in ways I didn't want to consider.

As I felt her internal muscles begin to contract around me, I let go and my own climax exploded, hot and intense, blissful. I brought my mouth back down to hers and kissed her deeply as she spasmed and pulsed around me, and I emptied myself into her.

I lay with my head buried in her neck for a few minutes until our breathing evened out and I registered that she was running her fingernails up and down my arms. I sighed in happiness. Then I leaned up and kissed her on the mouth and smiled as I pulled out of her.

As I was flushing the condom, it registered that that hadn't been fucking. That hadn't even been just sex. I had just made love to Grace.

CHAPTER 11

Grace

Someone evil and cruel, a demon from the depths of Hades, shook my shoulder in the early morning darkness. I smelled Carson's scent close to me and inhaled deeply on a smile and tried to nestle back into the blankets. I loved that smell. It was just a dream, a dream I thought was bad at first, but was turning good, very good. "Wake up sleeping Buttercup," I heard whispered into my ear on a minty breath.

I forced one eye open. "What did I ever do to you?" I croaked out.

He chuckled. "If you want to go hiking this morning, we need to get going. Up!"

I groaned. What had I ever seen in him? He was a sadist. I heard him walk into the bathroom, and I drug myself out of our warm, happy nest. I loved that nest. I wanted to return to it and stay there indefinitely. It was warm and it smelled good–it smelled like him.

I walked into the bathroom and Carson was standing at the sink running his hands through his wet hair. He looked at me in the mirror and chuckled. "Hey, Fragglerock." He grinned. "Not really a morning person are you?"

I grunted. But when I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes widened. I did look like Fragglerock. Good call with the nickname. My hair was sticking out in every direction and I had deep pillow creases on one cheek. That's what you get when you wake me up at the butt crack of dawn, Carson. I frowned and picked up my toothbrush and started brushing my teeth.

Carson came around behind me and put his arms around my waist and whispered into my ear, "Did I ever tell you I have a thing for crazy looking Muppets with wild hair?"

I snorted, spewing a little toothpaste out. "I knew your weird fetishes would come out eventually," I said around a mouthful of foam.

He laughed softly, patting me on my ass. "Hurry up, we need to get going if we're going to beat the heat."

I hurried through a shower and blew my hair dry and pulled it back into a ponytail. I felt a little more alive when I walked out into the hotel room. Carson was sitting on the bed pulling on his sneakers.

I pulled on the workout outfit I had brought–intending on using it at the hotel gym–a pair of navy shorts and a white tank with a built in bra. I pulled on my sneakers and a ratty, gray, zip-up sweatshirt.

I glanced at the clock and my eyes bugged out. "Five-fifteen?" I yelled. "You have me up at five-fifteen?"

"Yeah. It takes at least twenty minutes to drive there. If we want to really get a good hike in, we need to get going."

"You're crazy."

"So I've been told." He grinned.

We made our way down to the parking garage and he guided me over to a red Chevy Trailblazer. I furrowed my brow. "I thought you flew in," I said.

"I did. Rental car. I like to have the option of going somewhere further than the strip if I want to."

I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

We pulled out of the garage a few minutes later and Carson pulled into a McDonald's drive through. "Coffee?" he asked.

"God, yes," I sighed.

He grinned over at me. "Don't you get up early for classes?" he asked.

"I never schedule classes before nine a.m. Eight o'clock is about the earliest my brain is functioning."

"Ah. Well then this is good for you. Watching the sun come up in the desert is something everyone should experience at least once."

He ordered and then drove forward and paid, and took our coffees from the teenager at the window. He handed one to me and I took a grateful sip.

"And how exactly are you so chipper at this time of the morning?" I asked.

"Well, for one, I had an amazing night," he winked at me, "and for two, I'm used to getting up this early to go snowboarding. We usually leave at four or five in the morning."

I nodded and we drove in silence for a little while, both sipping our coffees.

He turned up the radio a little bit and I leaned my head back, sighing in contentment. I was still sleepy, but riding in the car with Carson, sipping coffee and taking in his delicious smell, filling the car, was nice–peaceful.

We drove on in companionable silence, listening to the radio. Just as I was finishing my coffee, we pulled into the Red Rock Hotel and Casino.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"This is the perfect place to watch the sun rise," he said. "There's a great view to the east from the top parking deck."

I took my last sip of coffee, trusting him.

It was still dark out as we got out of the car, me stretching. Carson came around to my side and put his arms around me from behind, pulling me close to his body. "Look, Grace," he whispered.

I followed his gaze in the dim light and my breath hitched in my chest as I saw the glowing red sun rising in the sky, casting golden rays of light out to every side. "Oh, wow," I breathed. "I literally don't think I've ever watched the sun rise, Carson. It'll always make me think of you." I said, smiling over my shoulder and nuzzling in to him.

He didn't say a word, just pulled me back harder to his chest and kissed my temple. We stood watching the miraculous display of nature's wake-up to the world for a good twenty minutes, the sun dancing over the mountains as it creeped higher in the sky, the vivid reds and whites of the canyon on full display. It was breathtaking. When the whole sun was showing over the horizon and the landscape was bathed in light, Carson pulled my hand and we got back in the car.

Ten minutes later, after paying at the pay booth, we pulled into the parking lot at the Red Rock Canyon Visitor Center. Carson went to the trunk and grabbed a backpack that I hadn't even noticed him putting in as we got into the car in the Bellagio parking garage.

"No rope and shovel in there, I hope," I said, my eyes moving to his backpack suspiciously.

He laughed. "No, Buttercup. Just some bottled water."

"Whew," I breathed out, teasingly.

He took my hand and we began walking toward one of the trail entrances.

The landscape was mountainous and rocky, the colors bursting all around me as the day grew lighter and lighter.

The rock formations in the distance were rusty red, the cacti vivid green, and the desert flowers on the sides of the trail all shades. The orangy-red, glowing sun in the distance was a backdrop for the beauty all around us.

We walked along in silence for a little while. I was fully awake now, watching the amazing view of Carson's muscular backside in a pair of khaki shorts moving up the trail in front of me. It was as awe-inspiring as the natural wonder around me.

After a little bit, we started chatting. I told him about my sisters, Julia and Audrey, both younger than me. I talked about my dad, how he was still a cop, but was planning on retiring in the next couple of years. I described what it had been like to grow up in the Midwest, in the same house all my life, and what it was like to leave Ohio for the first time at eighteen years old.

I told him about Abby and Brian and how Brian went to Georgetown with me, and that I had introduced them at a school function I had dragged Abby to.

He talked about what it had been like to grow up in Los Angeles, staying in the same city but moving around constantly. He told me about his best friend and roommate, Dylan, who was his snowboarding partner-in-crime and was finishing up his final semester at a computer programming, technical school. Carson said that Dylan was such a computer genius, that he could have taught the classes himself, but in order to get a decent-paying job, he needed the degree.

We talked about everything and nothing, filling each other in on our lives. There was something about talking as we walked, looking ahead at the trail, and not at each other, that made it feel like we could say anything. The boundaries naturally in place when looking someone in the eye were gone, and it seemed even easier to open up. To me, it felt like our own private place away from the world–there it was just me and him, our own stories, what we liked, what we felt, and absolutely nothing else.

I was shocked at how quickly time was going by as we walked and chatted. I glanced at my cell phone in the pocket of my sweatshirt, now tied around my waist, and it was already seven thirty. We stopped and he took a couple bottles of water out of the backpack he was carrying, and we took long drinks from them. He took a couple granola bars out too and offered one to me.

"Where'd you get these?" I asked.

"Vending machine when I woke up this morning," he said. "Always prepared, Buttercup."

I smiled. "Lucky for me," I said, eyeing him. "Why do you call me Buttercup?"

He smiled back. "Maybe because your skin is satiny like a flower petal," and he trailed his fingers up my arm, tickling me lightly. I laughed and shook my head slightly.

We ate and drank and then got back on the trail. We stopped again in another hour and after we drank more water, he leaned against a rock and pulled me against him, kissing the side of my neck. "Mmmm… I love the way you smell even more when you sweat. It's irresistible."

I laughed at the tickly feeling of his lips trailing lightly down my neck. "Is this where you turn into a desert hyena?"

"Probably. I feel him coming out. He's strong, baby. He's hard to contain. Ah!" He contorted his head in at an awkward angle and brought one arm out stiffly. "Run, Grace! Run!"

I laughed out loud as he grabbed me around the waist and brought me against him hard, growling into my face. "Too late, baby. You had your chance."

He nipped at my neck and ground up against me while I laughed and writhed in his arms.

After a few minutes, he turned serious and looked into my eyes, leaning into me and taking my mouth. He kissed me slowly and deeply, our tongues tangling, our breath mingling. He took my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it gently.

Finally, he broke away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that had come loose from my ponytail. "Feels good to be up here with you–I didn't know if I'd like company while hiking. Who knew it could be even better with the right person?" He smiled at me gently.

I smiled back and then cocked my head to the side. "Do you go hiking alone a lot?"

"Any chance I get, yeah. I love being outdoors."

"I can tell. Hiking, snowboarding, surfing. What don't you do?"

"Nothing I won't do, Buttercup. I thought you knew that." He winked.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, though, what do you love so much about it all?"

He looked over my shoulder and was quiet for a minute, biting his bottom lip. "I love the challenge of it. I love the fact that if you do something enough, you can be great at it. It has nothing to do with who you are, how you look, nothing superficial. It's all about accomplishing something that you can take credit for." He was quiet again, his brow now furrowed. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Huh. Never actually thought about it until I just said that out loud." His smile was startling in its intensity, that dimple doing its worst.

I grinned right back at him.

He pulled me closer to him. "Know what else I really like?"

I shook my head. "What?" I asked quietly.

"You." He grinned.

"Yeah? And what exactly do you like about me?"

He tilted his head, looking into my eyes. "I like the look on your face when you're seeing or doing something new–almost like it's a religious experience." He grinned at me and I smiled back. I liked that.

"And I like how you let me see beneath that perfect exterior, because it turns out that what you were hiding was even more stunning, Fragglerock hair and all." I laughed. He grinned back and kept looking into my eyes. I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest.

"And I really, really like how you make me feel–like if you looked at me every day, the way you're looking at me right now, I could do anything, be anything, be more." He ended on a whisper, his face serious.

I blinked and reached up and touched his cheek. No one had ever complimented me quite like that. I wasn't sure how to respond except by saying, "I like you too, Carson."

"Yeah? What do you like about me?" he asked, a smile on his face, but I caught the look of vulnerability that skated across his features.

"I like how you make me want to be brave like you, listen to my own desires and make my own happiness." He smiled, but then furrowed his brow slightly as if he wasn't sure if what I said was completely accurate.

I kissed his nose. "I like how you let me see beneath your sex-on-a-stick exterior, because as unbelievably amazing as you are in that respect," I smiled and winked, but then went serious, "as it turns out, that's the least of what you have to offer." He laughed and pulled me in to him, kissing me on the top of the head.

"And," I went on, "I like how you make me feel, how you make me laugh and have fun, and feel more alive than I've ever felt before." I raised my head and looked up at him and he was gazing at me intensely.

"I think you should know something," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"In the tradition of the Native American people who lived in this desert ten thousand years ago, we just got married, baby."

I burst out laughing. "Vows at the top of the mountain?" I asked.

"Exactly," he said, laughing too.

After a minute or two, we joined hands and moved on.

At a little before ten a.m. we returned to the car and got inside, sinking into our seats and turning up the air conditioner to high.

"Wanna go see the Visitor Center before we get back on the road?" Carson asked.

"Okay," I said, glancing over at the outdoor, shaded center.

We walked over hand in hand and then spent a half an hour looking at the four themed areas; earth, air, fire and water. Carson came over and stood next to me and put his arm around my shoulder as I read about agave roasting pits. I nuzzled into him and kissed the side of his neck.

We drove back to town and stopped at a small burrito bar and sat on the outdoor picnic benches as we ate. Carson pulled me on to his lap halfway through, and it felt normal and natural to continue eating sprawled across him as we reminisced about the things we had seen on our hike.

I looked back at him. "Thank you for showing me my first sunrise. Thank you for the whole morning. It was one of the coolest things I've ever done."

He nodded his head, his mouth full of burrito. After a minute, he swallowed and said, "My pleasure, Buttercup. And by the way, a sunrise will always remind me of you too." He smiled.

We drove back to the hotel, and I reminded him that I was going to the seminar presentation and wanted to get there a little early. We stopped by my room so I could grab some clothes and then went up to his room to each take a quick shower.

I came out in my bra and panties and Carson was drawing the curtains so the room was dark and cool. "Nap?" he smiled.

"God, that sounds so good," I sighed.

He set the alarm and we snuggled together under the blankets, skin to skin. It felt warm and cozy and his smell was intoxicating me again. But my body must have needed sleep more because before I knew it, the alarm was going off. Carson untangled himself from me and rolled over to shut it off. We snuggled for a few more minutes, waking up slowly.

"Meet me back in my room at four o'clock?" he asked. "It's our last night, I want to do something special."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Four o'clock."

I got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up and pull on my black slacks and black cami under a black and white polka dotted sheer blouse. I slipped on my shoes and leaned over Carson, still lying in bed. "Four o'clock," I repeated.

He looked at me seriously. "Okay. See you then. Oh, take the extra key card on the desk so you can let yourself in."

"Okay," I said. Then I kissed him softly, grabbed the key card and left the room.

As I walked down the hall, a melancholy swept over me, and it occurred to me that this was the first time Carson and I would be apart for longer than fifteen minutes since we had first stepped onto that elevator.

Carson

I lazed around for a little while, flipping on the television and watching "Die Hard" for half an hour or so when I found it on a movie channel. Finally, I shut it off and pulled on some clothes. I couldn't help the feeling of melancholy that had washed over me when Grace closed the door behind her. I was going to see her in a couple hours and yet I was already missing her. This wasn't good. I suspected that I was somewhat fucked when it came to Grace, but I didn't want to think about it. It was going to suck to watch her walk away tomorrow morning. I stood at the bathroom sink looking at myself in the mirror. "You are such a dumb motherfucker," I said to my reflection. Maybe we could keep in touch. Maybe I could fly her out to L.A. We needed to talk–I couldn't let her go permanently. It was suddenly an impossibility for me. I had no idea what we'd do, but we had to do something. I tried to work through it in my mind for a few minutes but couldn't come up with a solution. "Fuck!" I yelled to no one.

I decided I needed to get out of my hotel room while she was gone. I'd come back up and meet her at four and we'd talk, figure something out, but to sit and drive myself crazy for the next hour didn't sound appealing. I headed to the lobby and decided to stop by the end of the expo, probably just finishing up about now.

I walked into the conference room and it was still crowded with fans, lines formed at tables where the most popular performers sat signing anything from photos to body parts. I shook my head on a smile when I saw one woman bent over, as a male performer I didn't know signed her bare ass.

"Carson!" I heard shouted and looked over to see Bobby Prince, another male performer who worked for Courtney at ArtLove.com.

"Hey, man." I turned and walked over. Bobby was just packing his stuff up and so we stood and shot the shit for a little while before his girlfriend, who was in the business too, came over and put her hand around his waist asking, "Ready, baby?" We shook hands and he took off. I looked around and saw a grandma who must have been ninety years old having her saggy cleavage signed by a woman I didn't know in a short red, leather dress with a zipper up the front. I decided I'd had enough. This was not my scene and exactly why I had told Tim that I wasn't doing this type of stuff anymore. Why I thought it'd be a good idea even to walk through, I didn't know.

I made my way to the conference room doors and just as I was almost there, I heard my name shrieked. I turned around and there was a twenty-something blonde jumping up and down and pulling her friend's arm. "Oh my God!" she yelled. "Carson Stinger, I LOVE you!" Then she ran over to me and pulled her shirt all the way up, exposing her tits. "Sign me!" she demanded, sticking a sharpie pen in my face.

I managed a smile and took the pen from her. I scrawled my name across her breasts and handed the pen back. "Thanks for the support." I smiled and started to walk off.

"Wait!" she yelled. "Will you take a picture with me?"

I sighed. "Sure," I said, walking back to her and putting my arm around her shoulders. She pulled her shirt back up to expose my signature, as her friend snapped a picture.

I nodded and smiled at them both again and as I turned, I heard her friend whisper to her, "Grab his dick so you can say you felt up Carson Stinger."

I felt them both come up behind me and turned toward them saying, "Whoa, ladies, I appreciate your fan support, but no one's grabbing my junk." I tried to laugh it off, shooting them both my most charming smile, that one that always got me what I wanted with women.

They weren't listening to me though, their eyes cast down to my crotch, their hands reaching forward.

"Back off!" I yelled deeply, making them startle and halt their movement and drawing eyes from those standing nearby.

I turned back around and started walking as the blonde yelled after me, "What the hell? You fuck for a living and your dick's suddenly off limits? Whatever asshole!"

I clenched my jaw and kept walking. When I got out into the hall, I kicked a plant over, dirt spraying over the carpet. I left it there.

I made my way back up to my hotel room and slammed the door behind me and kicked it for good measure, and then sat down on the corner of the bed staring blankly at the wall. I was pissed and I couldn't figure out exactly why. Those girls were bitches, but who fucking cared? Who cared what they thought? Who cared what anyone thought?

A minute later, I heard a click and the room door opened. Grace came in and smiled big at me, her blue eyes softening when she saw me. "Hi, handsome," she said. "Miss me?"

I looked up at her, so beautiful and so sweet, still feeling anger and something like shame swirling through my chest over my "fan" run-in downstairs.

I opened my mouth to say something full of sexual innuendo about exactly what I missed about her, but I snapped my mouth closed. It was like a reflex, but Grace would see right through it so why bother? So what should I do instead? I frowned.

Her face went serious. "Carson? What's wrong?" She came over to me and tilted my chin up with her finger and looked into my face, her eyes searching mine. I didn't answer but wrapped my arms around her and lay my head on her belly, taking in long inhales of her soothing scent.

After a couple seconds, she started running her hands through my hair gently, soothing me further. "Talk to me. What happened?" she asked quietly.

I took in a deep breath and pulled back from her. "Nothing, Grace. I just ran into some bitchy fans from the expo. Just a hazard of the job," I said.

When her eyes skittered away from mine, I knew that she didn't know what to say–my job was probably something she really didn't want to think about. Frankly, it was something I really didn't want to think about either.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower, okay? Then we can get ready for dinner?"

She smiled a small smile at me and nodded. "Okay." She took her hand and brushed a piece of hair off my forehead and then brought her hand to my face and looked into my eyes, telling me everything was okay. I leaned into her and closed my eyes. I didn't really need a shower, but it would give me the time to get into a better head space and let the run-in roll off my back. It was my last night with Grace. I'd be damned if anything was going to ruin it. Plus, we needed to talk. We needed to figure something out. I couldn't let her go.

CHAPTER 12

Grace

I heard the shower turn on and sat down in the chair at the desk to check my phone and shoot Abby another quick text. I had been sending them to her since I had talked to her and told her about staying with Carson. She wanted to know that I was okay. I didn't blame her–if the positions had been reversed and she was spending the weekend with a stranger, I'd want her to check in frequently too.

Carson hadn't told me exactly what happened with his fans, but he looked disturbed. And truthfully, just hearing about them had me a little disturbed too. I needed to shake it off. This was our last night together and I wanted to enjoy it. I sat biting my lip for a minute. I had enjoyed the presentation downstairs, but my mind had continually wandered to Carson and the fact that we were going to be saying goodbye in the morning. Maybe we could keep in touch somehow? Was that completely stupid and unrealistic? We needed to talk about this, and in a way I looked forward to it, to potentially figuring out a way not to have to say goodbye forever. God, but in a way I dreaded it. I was pretty sure he'd tell me he felt the same way, but what if he didn't? What if he was still planning on the quick, permanent break we had arranged? He had called us "friends." Did he want to remain "friends?" Or did he–

A knock sounded at the door and interrupted my thoughts. The shower was still going so I walked over to it and pulled it open. A middle aged, short, balding man in khakis and a sport coat was standing on the other side. He looked surprised to see me. "Carson here?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Oh, he is but he's in the shower. Do you, uh, want to wait for him, or…"

He sighed, looking annoyed. "I'm his agent, Tim." He looked me up and down, his eyes narrowing and filling with something that made me squirm. "Well, I can see why he shut his phone off and blew everything else off this weekend," he finally said. "You're quite the hot piece of ass, aren't you?"

My eyes widened in shock. "I–"

"Listen, just tell him I stopped by, since he's not taking any calls, and I apparently missed him downstairs earlier at the naked boob signing." He snickered. "Let him know his shoot tomorrow morning has been moved back to eleven. And girlie, do everyone involved a favor and go easy on his cock tonight. The whole shoot depends on him being able to get it up. If you've worn him out, no one is gonna be happy–especially Bambi–the girl who's looking forward to fucking him. Got it?"

There was a lot there that made my heart drop into my feet, and I felt bile rising up my throat, but I wasn't going to let this greasy sleazeball see that. I stood taller and formed my face into what I hoped was a bored expression. "I'll tell him, Tim," I said, my voice cracking slightly, but my eyes remaining steady.

"Good," he said, starting to turn away. Then he turned back and his beady, little rat eyes assessed me again. "You know," he said, running one finger down my cheek to which I flinched away, "you've got a really good look–sexy yet innocent. You'd look great on film. When you're done with Carson tonight, why don't you come down to my room and we can do some role playing–see what your acting skills are like… among other things." His eyes filled with lust and he adjusted himself in his pants as his eyes moved down to my breasts and lingered there. I felt like I was going to throw up.

I had no words. If this weekend had taught me anything, it was that I was a lot more frazzle-able than I thought. I pushed the door closed in his face.

I leaned unsteadily against it, choking the vomit down. Carson had a shoot tomorrow morning. With a girl named Bambi. I laughed a small, hysterical laugh. Was it some kind of bestiality porn? I felt a small sob coming up my throat and swallowed it down. I was not going to cry about this. It was what he did. I knew this. Yes, I knew it, but it was the one thing I hadn't allowed myself to truly think about during our time together. I kept his job on the back burner, not denying it exactly, just refusing to fully consider the reality of it. We were going to spend the night together, he was going to be inside me tonight and then inside Bambi in the morning? My heart clenched painfully. I was sickened.

I looked up as Carson suddenly appeared in the bedroom doorway from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He smiled over at me, but then his smile disappeared as he took me in. "Buttercup?" he asked.

"Your agent Tim came by," I whispered. "He wanted to let you know that your shoot with Bambi in the morning has been moved to eleven."

He froze and his eyes closed for a couple beats. Then he opened them and said simply, "I'm sorry, Buttercup." And that's when I felt my heart truly crack.

Carson

My heart beat like thunder in my chest as I took her in from across the room. Shit, shit, shit! Fucking Tim! I hadn't wanted Grace to know about my shoot. I had avoided thinking about it myself. But it was reality, and I knew I'd have to face it eventually. I was just sorry as hell that Grace had to face it too.

"Grace," I started, walking toward her. She shrunk back and that small movement made me want to slam my fist into the wall. I looked at her pleadingly. "Grace, you knew what I did…"

She looked up at me with eyes filled with hurt. "I know," she whispered. "I guess I just didn't think you'd be going directly from me to someone else." She shook her head.

"It's not like that, Grace. It's work," I said quietly.

She nodded, biting her lip. "The thing is, Carson, how do you separate the two? I never asked you anything about what you do because I didn't want to think about it–not truly. But now I want to know. How do you separate real life from 'work'?"

I stared at her and told her the truth. "I've only made four films, Grace. Like I told you in the elevator, I don't exactly enjoy it, but it was always easy enough for me. Before."

"Before what?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

"Before you. You've changed things for me." And as the words tumbled from my mouth, I realized that she had. I wasn't sure exactly how or what that meant, but I knew it was true.

She stared at me, blinking. "So what are you going to do then?" she asked quietly.

I scrubbed a hand down my face. "What can I do?" I asked, raising my voice, feeling the anger and frustration of the situation fill me. "I have a two-year contract, and I'm only six months into it. I'll get sued if I break it. And what the fuck else am I going to do, Grace? Work at a gas station? I don't have a college degree. I don't have any other prospects. I don't have anything to offer you," I said, the misery washing over me in the truth of my statement. I'd never felt more worthless.

Her eyes had filled with tears at my words. She looked down and shook her head. After a minute she sighed and started walking toward me. "I'm sorry, this isn't fair. I knew what you did and now I'm holding it against you. It's just… it didn't hurt two days ago. It hurts now," she finished quietly.

I slumped my shoulders, defeated. This was a no-win situation. I had thought we'd figure out a way to make something work, but how? What? It was true–I had nothing to offer her. She couldn't deal with what I did and still be a part of my life, and I didn't blame her. How would I feel if Grace was going off to make a film with some other guy tomorrow morning? I wouldn't care that it was "work," it would freak me the fuck out. Jealousy charged through me at just the thought alone.

I had told her that we were friends, and we were, but we were more too–what exactly, I wasn't sure and there was no way for us to explore any of it. The fact that we lived in two different cities was the very least of our challenges.

And as far as my job, I had few to no good options aside from what I was doing right in the moment. I had spent a lot of money in Vegas, not that I'd tell her that, and I needed the contract installment that tomorrow's shoot would bring me to replenish my bank account.

"Isn't there anything else you've thought of doing?" she asked warily. "I mean, surely you couldn't have planned to do this forever."

"I don't have a plan, Grace! You're the one with the plan!" I yelled out, hating myself, so filled with regret and frustration that I lashed out at her. My voice sounded broken, even to my own ears.

She looked at me so sadly. I wanted to make it better for her, but I couldn't. I was worthless and powerless and the girl I cared about was standing in front of me with tears in her eyes, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes very briefly. "I don't want to lose you, Buttercup, but I don't have a plan," I said miserably. "I'm so sorry, so sorry." I raked both hands through my hair, grimacing and turning away from her.

"Come to D.C., Carson. Stay with me. We can figure something out." I turned back around to her at her words. "Maybe you could enroll in college there… or…" she trailed off, her eyes losing the look of desperation that had been in them a moment before. Now she was frowning and looking sad and uncertain.

I studied her. My sweet Buttercup. "I can't stay on your couch mooching off of you, Grace. If this," I waved my arm around the room indicating where we had started, "was an unlikely way for anything real to begin, that situation would be the worst idea in the history of bad relationship ideas. What would your dad think? I wouldn't do that to you–to us."

Her eyes met mine and we looked at each other for long minutes. I could see that she was out of ideas too. The sadness coming off of her was palpable.

She sighed heavily and looked down. "This is going to hurt more if I stay with you until tomorrow morning," she said quietly. "I can't stand it hurting any more than it does now."

I nodded, my jaw clenching and something inside pulling tight and snapping. "I know," I said.

She nodded again and stood up and started gathering her things. I sat silently, staring ahead, hating life, hating myself and my stupid choices, and most of all hating the fact that we could never explore what was blossoming between us.

When she was done, she came over to me and knelt down in front of me just as I had done to her yesterday. She looked up at me with tears shimmering in her big, blue eyes. "I'll always think of you when I get on an elevator or see a sunrise," she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last word.

I looked down at her and gave her a small smile, my heart thudding hollowly in my chest. I would never know what we could have been together and it felt so fucking unfair. I thought of all the things that would make me think of her, too many to mention them all. "I'll always think of you when I watch Titanic… or see a Buttercup," I said.

She smiled sadly, standing up slowly and kissing me on my lips gently, lingering there as she put her hand on my cheek. She turned away too quickly for me to see her face and she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her.

I stood up and grabbed the vase of flowers off the desk and hurled it at the wall. Glass shattered and water and flowers rained down as I sat back down on the bed heavily and put my head in my hands.