International Guy_New York Page 9

  I nod. “If they end with a gorgeous, naked woman riding my fingers and then my cock? Yeah. Can’t complain.”

  She rolls her eyes, sits up, and runs her fingers through my hair, I assume putting me back together after her repeated tugging and gripping during our romp. “Did my movies really turn you on?”

  I quirk a brow at her. “Seriously? I was hard as rock when I grabbed you. Babe, you’re freakin’ hot as fuck in those movies. You’re going to have no problem playing that woman again. She’s a badass, and you were jumping around, mimicking the moves along with her. You’ve still got it.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” I place my hand over her bare chest where her heart would be. “Skyler, your love of acting is all in here. Don’t let society, your PR team, or anyone else steal that love away. It’s yours to keep. It’s a part of you no one should get to have.”

  Her lip trembles. “But last time I tried to act, I couldn’t. Not at all.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know much about that. Could be anxiety, stress, fear, depression, or just plain burnout. Hell, it could be all of the above, along with being tired of not getting to be yourself. Of hiding in plain sight. But, I’ve got a plan for that.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, you know the book you told me about, Bared to You?”

  “Of course. It’s my favorite romance of all time.”

  “Well, I’m going to bring my partner Bogart up here from Boston. He does photography on the side as a hobby. Real good at it too.”

  Her eyes narrow, and she lifts her finger to her mouth so she can nibble on her nail. I grab her hand, kiss her finger, and hold it between us.

  “He’s going to help you show the world who the real Skyler Paige is. Your way. Your rules. All you. It will be like a coming-out of sorts. Sky, it’s time to bare it all. So, I figured we could call the piece Bared to You, meaning you’re baring yourself to everyone. Your fans, directors, friends, and even your colleagues. This way, there’s no more hiding. You are who you are. They take you as you are or not at all.”

  “What if they don’t like the real me?”

  I run my fingers through her hair and cup her cheek. She nuzzles into it. The simple gesture speaks volumes, breaking me down to my base instincts.

  Embrace. Protect. Love.

  Even though it’s far too soon for that last one, there’s still a flicker of a deeper emotion under the surface of our connection. I’m just not sure I’m ready to know what it is. For now, protecting her will have to do.

  “Peaches, what’s not to like?”

  Chapter 8

  “All right, bro, I’m ready for your girl.” Bo adjusts the lighting in the living room.

  Skyler spent the morning adjusting her knickknacks, making sure everything was in the perfect placement. She doesn’t want everyone to see the details of what’s in the pictures, so we’ve been creative with the placement of the angles on the photos. She’s fluffed her cushy couch a million times, the throw pillows placed just so, to the point I’m afraid to sit on the couch for fear I’ll dent a corner of the perfect fluff on the cushion.

  “Sky, baby. Where you at?” I holler through the penthouse, moving down the hall to her bedroom. She’s in there sliding on her bracelets.

  She looks scrumptious, wearing a pair of faded jeans, a ribbed tank with a mess of necklaces, and a ton of tinkling bracelets, and her hair is in beachy curls running down her back in waves.

  “Peaches, you look beautiful.” I scan her faded jeans and the olive-green tank. Her feet are bare, her toes painted with a dark-purple, almost black polish. Her fingernails match. Turns out you can call in for that shit as she did yesterday. Had some regular nail tech Tracey found come in to do her fingers and toes in-house, so we didn’t have to go out to a nail salon.

  Sky pushes an oval opal set in sterling silver onto her index finger. The ring covers that finger from the base to the first knuckle. She shakes her hands out as if she’s trying to dry them. “I’m nervous.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess because we’re doing photos in my house. My private quarters. People are going to see how I really live.”

  “Sky, that’s the point. You want them to get to know and love the real you. Not some figment of their imagination.”

  She nods. “Yeah, okay. Let’s just do this. Is Tracey here yet?”

  “Not that I know of, but she’ll be here. You asked her to come, and she wanted to check in on you anyway.”

  Sky licks her pretty lips, which acts as a homing beacon to my libido. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close. Her head lifts, and I pair her gaze to mine.

  “This is supposed to be fun. How’s about we just let it roll. Nothing is going to be leaked to the media unless you want it to be. Bo is my best friend and works for International Guy. You can trust we’re here to take care of you. This is about your decision to share the real you with the public, so that you no longer have to hide in plain sight. Only what you want to be shared will be shared and on your terms. So, relax, Peaches. Enjoy this.”

  She smiles softly, lifts up onto her toes, and kisses me. She tastes of mint and smells like peaches. I growl, ease her head to the side, and take her in a harder, deeper kiss. A moan slips from her lips and into my mouth. I eat it the same way I eat her. Thoroughly and unabashedly.

  When we both need to breathe, we pull our upper halves away, gasping for air.

  “Damn, baby, promise me it will always be like this.”

  She gifts me one of her toothy, goofy grins.

  “I can only try.”

  I slide my nose alongside hers. “Fair enough.” With a firm grip on her ass cheek, I squeeze hard enough to warrant a playful reprimand from her.

  “Hey!” She pushes against my chest, but I don’t let her go.

  “No turning me on. I’ve got a photo shoot to do.” She pouts and I chuckle. Cute as hell, even when she pouts.

  I’m so fucked when it comes to this woman. It’s been going on two weeks of spending day and night with her, waking up to her beautiful face and falling asleep sated after making love to her. How am I going to walk away from that so soon?

  There’s something building between us. It’s deeper and stronger than anything I’ve felt before, but I’m leery of giving in to it. Two weeks does not a love connection make. Besides, what is love anyway? I thought I was in love once with Kayla McCormick. Trusted her with everything. My heart, my body, and my soul. And what did she do with it? Tossed it away for a quick fuck with my ex–best friend. Me and the guys don’t talk about him anymore, but to lose two people I cared a great deal for in one fell swoop? That shit taught me a lesson. Love is bullshit. Lust is where it’s at. Still, I don’t know where to put my connection with Skyler. She’s definitely not a friend, though I definitely care about her. It’s just . . . right now, she’s more than a friend, more than even a friend with benefits. Perhaps I can just get away with calling her my lover?

  Shaking off the uncomfortable thoughts, I decide to save that line of thinking for another day, when I have a bit of privacy and not a full two days’ worth of photo shoots and damage control for my girl.

  On a groan, I let her go, grab her hand, and drag her out into the living room where Bo is set up and waiting.

  When we get there, Tracey is there, rocking another fierce suit, ponytail, and a strange expression. Turns out the expression is because she sees us holding hands.

  “You’re fucking her!” she accuses the second we get within earshot.

  Skyler’s body jolts back, and her expression goes from nervous excitement to pure irritation. “Trace, who I welcome into my bed is no concern of yours.”

  A scowl coats Tracey’s features. “The hell it’s not. I’m not paying him to fuck you. I’m paying him to fix you.”

  Her statement digs into my chest and pisses me right the hell off. “First of all, Ms. Wilson, Skyler is correct. Who she welcomes to her bed is none of your concern. Second of
all, I’m not fixing Skyler, because there’s nothing to fix. She just needs some time to get back into the swing of things. Find who she wants to be and what it will entail for her future and career. I think we’re getting a handle on that.”

  “Then why is a man here setting up a photo shoot? In her living room, I might add. A place Skyler told me was sacred. I’ve had a million offers from Celebrity Cribs, home shows, and home magazines that would kill to do a feature of Skyler’s home. All of which she’s turned down repeatedly. You walk into her life just two weeks ago, and all that’s changed. And why wasn’t I notified? Not only is Skyler my best friend, she’s my client. I’m her agent. I’m here to protect her. Not you.”

  I raise both of my hands, trying to placate her anger and get things back on track. “Ms. Wilson. This is part one of a themed photo shoot we’re doing for Skyler. We may be facilitating it, but ultimately, it’s her project. And what she says goes.”

  “Trace . . .” Skyler approaches her friend, whose shoulders fall.

  “What’s going on, Birdie? Is he forcing you to do something you don’t want to do? I’ll put a stop to it all right now.” Her voice goes hard, and she’s clasped Sky’s biceps with intent.

  Sky shakes her head. “No. Yes, Parker came up with the idea. Got his partner from IG to come do the shoot privately, but I’m going to be in control of what’s taken and shared. I’ve come to realize part of my problem is I’m not being honest. With my fans, producers, directors, anyone. Not even you.”

  Tracey lets Skyler go, and one of her hands flies to her mouth as she gasps.

  “Trace, I don’t want to be this stodgy, untouchable celebrity. I want to be me. Jeans- and tank-wearing Skyler Paige Lumpkin. Of course, I’m going to leave the Lumpkin part off.” She grins.

  “But that’s who you are already.” Tracey frowns, and her lips flatten. “I’m not getting it.”

  Skyler inhales long and slow. “I hate dieting. I hate wearing whatever designs I should wear to my movie premieres. I don’t care if I appear on the worst-dressed list. I want to have the freedom to date who I want, not someone who’s going to further my career.” Her eyes shoot to me, and I give her a saucy wink in return. “The woman the public knows is not me, Trace, and it’s eating me alive. I can’t do it anymore. I’m firing my personal trainer. I’m keeping my nutritionist, but I’m going to have a serious talk with her about dieting. I’m not going to do it anymore, so she’s going to teach me how to eat right instead. If I gain ten pounds, I will not be hideous. Hell, I’d still probably be considered on the low average for my height.”

  Tracey’s eyes get big. “You’re going to let yourself go; is that really a good idea?”

  Skyler shakes her head. “No, I’m going to be thoughtful about my body and exercise plan, but also keep in mind I’m allowed to have a cookie. I’m allowed to have a night where I let loose and drink alcohol with my friends if I want to. I don’t have to eat salad for two meals a day. Trace, I’m going to start living, because what I’ve been doing is not that.”

  Tracey licks her lips and nods. “Okay, so what about the acting?”

  Skyler’s back goes straight. “Well, we haven’t gotten to that, but we did watch a couple of my movies the other night, and I had a good time. I felt pride in what I’d done. Parker and I are working up to dealing with my career and my future within it. I don’t think I’ll be doing as many beauty and clothing ads. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’m going to be doing any in the near future or ever. Acting is all I’ve ever wanted to do. Not commercials. Not branding. I want to be me and do what I love but not at the risk of sacrificing who I am.”

  “That all sounds acceptable, sweetheart.” Tracey runs her hands down Sky’s arms to her hands. I watch as she squeezes them. “All I want is for you to be happy and help support you in whatever that looks like for your career and future. If you say no more ads, we’ll cancel them all. Now explain what you’re planning to do here?”

  For the next twenty minutes, Skyler explains that we’re going to do a series of photo shoots, possibly even an interview, which will share who Skyler Paige really is. There’s going to be the shoot in her house, one out and in public, and a couple of sexy ones that will essentially bare it all without showing the goods. We’re going to be very creative for those.

  Finally Tracey understands the concept and gives her blessing, choosing to stay for today’s shoot so she can hang out with her best friend.

  While Bo gets Skyler on the couch, bare feet up, Bared to You by Sylvia Day in hand, leaning her elbow on the arm of the couch, body facing out and smiling at the camera happily, Tracey makes her move over to me.

  “I have to apologize for how I came at you earlier,” she starts.

  “Apology accepted,” I give her instantly, because there’s no reason to start shit with the client’s best friend.

  “No, it was harsh, and I accused you of sleeping with Skyler—”

  “I am sleeping with her.” I state it flatly. No bullshit, just the truth.

  Her eyes widen and she glances away, blushing a bit.

  “Be that as it may, you obviously have her best interests at heart, and quite honestly, I’ve not seen her stick up for herself in years. She’s always done what she’s been told to do, or what has been looked at as the best for her career. I fear I’ve had a part in that because, together, we’ve learned what those things were and forgotten that none of it was the real Skyler. I kept going with the flow, getting her bigger and bigger parts for more money, and I will admit to getting lost in all the glitz and glam.”

  “Skyler isn’t glitz and glam. She’s peaches and cream. Hot apple pie on a cool, breezy day. Jeans and a tank. Baseball and hotdogs. What she is not is limos and red carpets, fashion and gems. It’s not her; nor does she want that to be her.” I lift my chin toward the couch, where Bo has her laughing while he’s snapping away. “Sitting on her fluffy-as-hell couch with a million throw pillows to rest her arm and her head on, enough space to fit a big family, bare feet with her hair down, chillin’ at home. That’s Skyler Paige, the woman we need the world to see. The woman she needs to understand it’s okay to be, because she really can’t be any other way. And she shouldn’t have to. For anybody.”

  Tracey closes her eyes and nods. “Yeah, I think we both lost sight of that over the past few years. Thank you for helping bring her back.”

  “You’re welcome, but there’s still work to do. She’s going to need a therapist. She hasn’t talked about it, but when I’ve mentioned her family, she shuts down fully and changes the subject.”

  A grimace steals across Tracey’s face. “Yeah, I figured she still had some guilt about that situation. I thought she’d dealt with most of it, but I can look into a therapist. Someone who deals with celebrities and has safety measures in place. Maybe even someone who can come here.”

  “That would be better. Let her be in her own space to work through those demons. I’m not going to be able to go there with her. It’s too much on top of trying to get her muse back. Which I think we’re just about there with.”

  Tracey’s gaze slams to mine. “Yeah? You think she’ll be ready to do the movie next month?”

  I shrug. “I make no promises, but when she sees this spread go out—something I’ll need your help with to choose the right media source for distribution—I think she’ll see that her fans love her for who she is. It will go a long way toward bringing back her desire to act.”

  Tracey pulls out her phone and makes notes. “I’m thinking People magazine, print and online editions. I have a friend there, and if I tell them we’ll have photos by week’s end, I’ll bet they kick something to the curb and put in the new spread. Skyler is a lot hotter in the industry than even she thinks she is. Everyone wants a piece of her.”

  I close my eyes and let the thought worm its way into my subconscious.

  Everyone wants a piece of her.

  Including me. Only more than a piece. I want the whole enchilada. I�
�m just not sure what the fuck that means.

  While I’m thinking, Skyler bounces up and over the couch, runs the ten feet, and flings her arms around me. “Did you see how fun that was! Best photo shoot ever. Bo is so funny, honey!” she says as I swing her around, loving the joy I hear running through her voice.

  Bo swaggers up and shows us the camera so we can see some of the stills he’s taken.

  “Wow, Sky. Those are exactly what I thought they’d be. All you, and totally one hundred percent beautiful.”

  Tracey looks at them over Bo’s shoulder. “They really are perfect, Birdie.”

  Birdie? I’ll have to ask Sky about the nickname later.

  “Bo says I can go change for the next one. We’re going to shoot in the yoga room since I love yoga and want to share that with my fans.”

  “Cool. Go get changed. I’m gonna get Bo and Tracey a beer. You want one?”

  She shakes her head and jumps up and down, wiggling from left to right. “Nope, too excited.”

  I chuckle. Bo grins and says, “I’ll go get the rest set up in there. I’ve already set up most of the lighting before this shoot, but I’d like a couple of more angles, so I need to check the space is just right. Beer would be appreciated, though.” He winks, and his gaze drops to Tracey. “Hey, darlin’, nice suit. You get that tailored to fit?” He scans Tracey’s athletic body.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Shows. Next time, open a button on the dress shirt and sass that shit up with a colored shoe, preferably a stiletto. Oh, and your hair should be up all the way in a chignon, bun, or down. No more ponytails. You’re not a horse. Yeah?”

  “Um . . . noted.”

  “All righty then. Lesson over. The rest of you is sweet. Keep rockin’ it. But sexy shoes, show a little cleavage, the hair, and you’ll have men—business and otherwise—falling all over themselves.”

  On that bit of advice, he turns and swaggers toward Sky’s yoga room.

  “Did that just happen?” Tracey blinks and lifts her hands up. “I just got clothing and hair advice from a man who looks like he rides motorcycles for a living?”