Page 9 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)

Nine

Ellenore

I am equal parts excruciatingly blunt and unbearably awkward, which I’ve very recently come to realize makes situations like this painfully embarrassing.

Lex got up almost immediately after it was over, giving me a quick kiss before rolling off of me to saunter into the bathroom.

As soon as the door snapped closed, I sat up and scrambled to the edge of the bed.

The faint hiss of rushing water starts up and I feel dismissed and almost relieved about it because I had no idea what I’m supposed to do next.

I still don’t.

Find my clothes and run away while he’s still in the bathroom?

Crawl under the covers and go to sleep?

Offer him gas money to take me home?

Who knew that mind-blowing sex with an absolute stranger would be so difficult? And while I’m at it—what the hell was that? Who was that? Because it sure as shit wasn’t me. I’ve never—

“Hey.”

The sound of his voice lifts my head and I find him standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing nothing but a smile and tattoo ink. Whatever he sees on my face kills the grin he’s giving me. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” I shake my head, focusing my gaze on his shoulder, studying the black ink tattooed into his skin.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I was right, the tattoo covers the entire upper left side of his body, draped over his shoulder to cover one well-muscled pec before climbing down the ladder of his ridiculously tight abs.

Just looking at him makes me want to pull my T-shirt over my knees and roll myself into a ball.

“Well, now you’re lying,” he snaps at me, crossing thick, muscular arms over his chest. “Obviously something is wrong…” He goes a little pale and his arms loosen away from his chest a bit. “Did I do something?” He takes a half step toward me before stopping himself. “Did you not wan—”

“What?” I shake my head, fast and tight at his implication.

“No—” I keep shaking my head while forcing myself to look him in the eye.

“You didn’t do anything. I… I just—” I take a deep breath and give my brain a break by letting my mouth take over.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now that we’ve—” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder and sigh.

“Can you please just tell me what I’m supposed to do? ”

His expression softens and he smiles again, but this time he isn’t aiming that devastatingly sexy grin at me like before. This time he’s smiling at me like I’m a baby bird that’s tumbled out of its nest. “What do you want to do, Ellenore?”

“I want to do what I’m supposed to do.” Frustration cranks my hands into fists. “I don’t want to embarrass myself by assuming it’s okay for me to stay when it’s not, but I don’t want to leave if it’s not proper etiquette.”

He grins at me again, this one less injured baby bird and more adorably dumb puppy. “I’m pretty sure Emily Post never covered sex with strangers.”

The fact that he knows who Emily Post is shocks me into silence, but not for long. “Don’t make fun of me.” I push it through clenched teeth, shooting to my feet. “I told you, I’ve never—”

“Come here.” He’s still standing in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, but his tone is heavy, his gaze slipping off my face and aimed low enough to remind me that I’m naked from the waist down.

When I don’t move, he lifts his gaze to meet mine and arches a dark blond brow at me.

“You wanted me to tell you what to do, so I’m telling you— come here . ”

I’m sure I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself and storm out of here, proper one-night-stand protocol be damned, but I don’t. Instead, I do what he says, cursing myself every step of the way. Stopping in front of him, I feel my chin jut out at a childishly stubborn angle. “What?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he unfolds his arms and reaches for me to pull my cardigan off and I let him. He tosses it on the floor and makes a gesture with his hands. “Lift your arms.”

I hesitate because I know what he’s going to do. Instead of complying, I twist my fingers in the hem of my T-shirt. “Why?” I’m stalling and he knows it.

He reaches for my fingers and pulls them away from the bottom of my shirt.

“Lift your arms,” he says it again, softer this time, fingers gripped around the hem of my shirt.

As soon as I raise my arms, he pulls my shirt over my head.

Tossing it in the corner where he kicked his jeans, I lower my arms while he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra, releasing my breasts before drawing the straps of it away from my shoulders.

“There is no proper etiquette for what we just did, Ellenore,” he says, dropping my bra on the floor before giving me the kind of appraising look that makes it hard for me to stop myself from covering up.

When he doesn’t laugh or look disgusted, I feel myself relax.

“You’re perfectly free to do whatever you want to do.

..” He steps into me and I make a counter move, feeling the door frame wedge itself between my shoulder blades when I take a step back.

Lifting his hand, he cups it around the back of my neck again, this time his thumb sweeping across my cheekbone while those devastatingly blue eyes of his search mine.

“But if I get a vote, I’d like you to stay. ”

“I have work in the morning.” It’s a weak argument, one that earns me a smirk.

“We’ll set an alarm.” The hand on my neck slides down to cup my bare breast, the pad of his thumb grazing across my nipple. “I’ll even make you breakfast.”

I look up at him, my forehead wrinkled into a frown. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

He leans over me and surprises me by pressing his lips against my puckered forehead. “Yes—but only if you want to.”

“Okay…” I tilt my head, sighing softly when his mouth changes directions and brushes against mine.

He kisses me, his tongue slow and soft, tangling with mine, the feel of him drowning out every worry I have about what happens next.

“I’d like to stay,” I say, gasping softly when the hand on my breast squeezes tight, his thumb brushing across my nipple again, teasing it to attention.

“Lex…” I moan his name when I feel his mouth close over my neck, his teeth nipping me hard enough to sting, letting loose a rush of warmth between my legs.

“What are we doing?” I have my hands buried in his hair and I’m so wet, so aroused I can feel the pulse of it throbbing against my clit.

He’s given me three orgasms in less than an hour.

More than I’ve had in the past thirteen months, probably my whole life—because if the past hour has taught me anything it’s that self-serve orgasms don’t count.

And the few accidental orgasms I had with Derek don’t count either.

I’m pretty sure nothing is ever going to count again after this.

“ What are we doing ?” He repeats the question, lifting his head to press his lips against my temple while the hand on my breast skims a trail down my ribcage and over my belly to dance his fingertips across the top of my cleft.

“We’re going to fuck in the shower now, Ellenore,” he says before sliding his arms around me to pick me up like I weigh nothing. “If we make it that far.”

Wrapping my legs around him I can’t help but smile. “You’re hard again.”

“Yes, I am.” He growls it at me, leaning me against the bathroom door frame again to grind the ridged length of his bare cock against me.

“I did that,” I gasp softly, another smile breaking out over my face.

The heavy expression on his face gives way to a grin. “Yes, you did,” he says right before he carries me through the bathroom door and kicks it shut.