Unexpectedly Yours
Page 29
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Her dress strap slips lower on her shoulder. Her body is close enough to touch.
I suddenly feel light-headed.
“I guess…make some great movies this year,” I reply. “Not screw up and wind up waiting tables again to make a living.”
She laughs. “No way. We all knew you had the talent, it just took the world a little while to catch on.”
“You haven’t seen me act,” I point out.
“Sure I have,” Zoey gives me a mischievous grin. “I remember a certain show you did one Christmas…”
“No!” I burst out laughing, remembering that year. I took fifty bucks to dress up and play a scene from A Christmas Carol on the 3rd Street Promenade. “God, why would you remind me about that?”
“Come on,” Zoey teases me, “you were the hunkiest Ebenezer Scrooge that Santa Monica ever saw.”
“I swear, that wig and beard gave me a rash.” I shake my head at the memory. “How do you even remember that?”
She shrugs, still smiling. “I told you, we all knew we had a star on our hands.”
I groan. “It’s only a matter of time before the tabloids drag up those photos.”
“I leave the country for one year, and you get hounded by the paparazzi.” Zoey shakes her head, looking amused. “Mr Big Shot.”
“It’s not like that. They just love the whole angle with Dex too,” I explain.
“‘The Hottest Brothers Since the Hemseworths,’” Zoey quotes.
“You saw that?”
“Are you kidding?” she laughs, “Tegan wants to get it framed. You must hate it,” she adds. “I know Dex could never stand the attention.”
I shrug, self-conscious. “It’s not so bad. My agents all tell me it’s part of the game. Play it right, and it can help me win the big roles.”
“And that’s what you want? Total world domination.” Zoey’s tone is still light, but I can tell there’s a deeper edge to the question.
I pause again. I know it’s not cool to talk about ambition. We’re all supposed to act like we just woke up one morning and decided, “Hey, I’ll be an actor.” Either that, or talk about the love of the craft, like all that matters is your acting, even if it is in some run-down dump in the Valley playing Shakespeare to an empty room.
But the truth is, I want this. So much it scares me sometimes. I want to walk down the red carpet at my big premiere, and see crowds screaming my name. I want to be blown up to twenty feet tall on the big screen in every movie theater in the country. I want Emmys and Oscars, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I want to be the best.
“Yeah,” I tell Zoey, admitting the truth out loud. “I want it all.”
I turn to meet her eyes. They’re bluer than I remember, smudged with dark liner, glowing in the night. I get that light-headed feeling again, like a weird electricity is crackling between us: hot and vivid.
Dangerous.
“You better get back inside,” I tell her, resisting the urge to slide that loose strap all the way down her arm. “You’ll miss the party.”
I see a flash of disappointment in Zoey’s eyes, but I force myself to turn my back on her. There’s no way I should be out here, lusting after my little sister’s best friend.
I lean out over the railings and watch the dark ocean glitter under the moon. I deserve a prize for my self-control, I figure, listening to the tap of her footsteps head away from me. The door slides closed, muffling the music from inside.
Self-control, or stupidity?
I block the pang of regret. Zoey is, well, Zoey. Just because she’s looking hot enough to burn the house down, that doesn’t mean I’m going to take advantage. She’s like a kid sister to me, for Christ’s sake!
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I feel a soft hand on my arm. I jerk around, and find Zoey standing back in front of me with a weirdly focused expression on her face.
“It’s the New Year,” she says stubbornly.
“Not for another ten seconds,” I reply, confused. I can hear the chant from inside, starting the countdown.
“Then I guess we’ll have to pass the time.” Zoey takes a deep breath, and then she’s reaching up on her tip-toes, pressing her lips against mine in a hot, hard kiss.
What the—?
I freeze, thrown by the heat of her lips and the soft swell of her body, the dizzying scent of her perfume. I know that I should pull away, but Zoey is determined: she loops her arms up around my neck, pulling me down against her as the countdown fades away and the world contracts to just the two of us, right here.
“Nine! Eight! Seven…”
The kiss deepens, fire and ice raging in my bloodstream, until finally, I snap. I let the burning lust take me over, sweeping her into my arms and spinning her back against the railings, crushing her against my body as I claim her mouth as my own.
I kiss her deep and hard, with a sudden hunger that shocks me to my bones. I don’t know where this desire has come from, all I know is that it crashes through every nerve and atom, demanding more.
I ease her lips apart and sink my tongue deep between her lips. Zoey moans against me, arching up, molding her body to mine. I can feel every inch of her, her gorgeous body burning hot through the flimsy silk of her dress. I slide my hands down her back, over the tight swell of her ass, grinding into her like a horny schoolboy. But dammit, I can’t hold back. Something about this kiss has taken me over, unleashing a primal, animal need.
I suddenly feel light-headed.
“I guess…make some great movies this year,” I reply. “Not screw up and wind up waiting tables again to make a living.”
She laughs. “No way. We all knew you had the talent, it just took the world a little while to catch on.”
“You haven’t seen me act,” I point out.
“Sure I have,” Zoey gives me a mischievous grin. “I remember a certain show you did one Christmas…”
“No!” I burst out laughing, remembering that year. I took fifty bucks to dress up and play a scene from A Christmas Carol on the 3rd Street Promenade. “God, why would you remind me about that?”
“Come on,” Zoey teases me, “you were the hunkiest Ebenezer Scrooge that Santa Monica ever saw.”
“I swear, that wig and beard gave me a rash.” I shake my head at the memory. “How do you even remember that?”
She shrugs, still smiling. “I told you, we all knew we had a star on our hands.”
I groan. “It’s only a matter of time before the tabloids drag up those photos.”
“I leave the country for one year, and you get hounded by the paparazzi.” Zoey shakes her head, looking amused. “Mr Big Shot.”
“It’s not like that. They just love the whole angle with Dex too,” I explain.
“‘The Hottest Brothers Since the Hemseworths,’” Zoey quotes.
“You saw that?”
“Are you kidding?” she laughs, “Tegan wants to get it framed. You must hate it,” she adds. “I know Dex could never stand the attention.”
I shrug, self-conscious. “It’s not so bad. My agents all tell me it’s part of the game. Play it right, and it can help me win the big roles.”
“And that’s what you want? Total world domination.” Zoey’s tone is still light, but I can tell there’s a deeper edge to the question.
I pause again. I know it’s not cool to talk about ambition. We’re all supposed to act like we just woke up one morning and decided, “Hey, I’ll be an actor.” Either that, or talk about the love of the craft, like all that matters is your acting, even if it is in some run-down dump in the Valley playing Shakespeare to an empty room.
But the truth is, I want this. So much it scares me sometimes. I want to walk down the red carpet at my big premiere, and see crowds screaming my name. I want to be blown up to twenty feet tall on the big screen in every movie theater in the country. I want Emmys and Oscars, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I want to be the best.
“Yeah,” I tell Zoey, admitting the truth out loud. “I want it all.”
I turn to meet her eyes. They’re bluer than I remember, smudged with dark liner, glowing in the night. I get that light-headed feeling again, like a weird electricity is crackling between us: hot and vivid.
Dangerous.
“You better get back inside,” I tell her, resisting the urge to slide that loose strap all the way down her arm. “You’ll miss the party.”
I see a flash of disappointment in Zoey’s eyes, but I force myself to turn my back on her. There’s no way I should be out here, lusting after my little sister’s best friend.
I lean out over the railings and watch the dark ocean glitter under the moon. I deserve a prize for my self-control, I figure, listening to the tap of her footsteps head away from me. The door slides closed, muffling the music from inside.
Self-control, or stupidity?
I block the pang of regret. Zoey is, well, Zoey. Just because she’s looking hot enough to burn the house down, that doesn’t mean I’m going to take advantage. She’s like a kid sister to me, for Christ’s sake!
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I feel a soft hand on my arm. I jerk around, and find Zoey standing back in front of me with a weirdly focused expression on her face.
“It’s the New Year,” she says stubbornly.
“Not for another ten seconds,” I reply, confused. I can hear the chant from inside, starting the countdown.
“Then I guess we’ll have to pass the time.” Zoey takes a deep breath, and then she’s reaching up on her tip-toes, pressing her lips against mine in a hot, hard kiss.
What the—?
I freeze, thrown by the heat of her lips and the soft swell of her body, the dizzying scent of her perfume. I know that I should pull away, but Zoey is determined: she loops her arms up around my neck, pulling me down against her as the countdown fades away and the world contracts to just the two of us, right here.
“Nine! Eight! Seven…”
The kiss deepens, fire and ice raging in my bloodstream, until finally, I snap. I let the burning lust take me over, sweeping her into my arms and spinning her back against the railings, crushing her against my body as I claim her mouth as my own.
I kiss her deep and hard, with a sudden hunger that shocks me to my bones. I don’t know where this desire has come from, all I know is that it crashes through every nerve and atom, demanding more.
I ease her lips apart and sink my tongue deep between her lips. Zoey moans against me, arching up, molding her body to mine. I can feel every inch of her, her gorgeous body burning hot through the flimsy silk of her dress. I slide my hands down her back, over the tight swell of her ass, grinding into her like a horny schoolboy. But dammit, I can’t hold back. Something about this kiss has taken me over, unleashing a primal, animal need.
