Page 396 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

LUKE

“Who the hell is she?” Sam asked, eyeing Aspen out the floor to ceiling windows.

I’d been secretly watching her out on the deck for the past hour.

She started with yoga and if I recognized it right, sun salutations.

Then, for the past fifteen minutes, she’d been dancing.

First, she warmed up using the railing for balance, then began to just…

move. It was clearly ballet, but she did it in her bare feet and to music only she heard.

She was amazing at it, and I was in awe. The way she gracefully bent and moved was… beautiful. I pulled out my phone and recorded it, adding a short clip to my social media showing her off, making sure everyone knew she was mine.

My agent was eyeing her, but not in the reverent way I was. I knew the look of a man who was checking out a woman’s snug leggings and fitted t-shirt that rode up a few inches every time she bent forward.

My gaze narrowed at the way he was practically drooling. While I was allowed to appreciate the view, Sam wasn’t.

“Dude, stop eye fucking her,” I snapped.

He spun on his thousand dollar shoe and faced me, an unrepentant grin on his face.

I was represented by a huge PR agency, and he was the agent they’d assigned me back in the day.

Sam Weismann was forty, born and raised in LA.

He wore expensive clothes, got an expensive haircut, drove an expensive car, and repped expensive clients.

Before the plane even landed, he’d texted me five times wondering about the photo I’d posted.

Since then, I posted more–welcoming my girl to LA by posing us in front of a palm tree and another with her by my side with the Hollywood sign in the distance–and he’d driven into the hills to see me in person.

“Aspen.”

“Right. Perfect.” He nodded, gave her one last glance through the window before I moved in front of his view.

“I told you I’d have found you a girlfriend.

How much are you paying her? While I admit, she’s a stunner, they’re a dime a dozen around here.

You’ll have to make sure she has her union card though because–”

“Shut up,” I told him. “She’s my girlfriend. She’s not a fucking actress.”

I left out that I paid her, but that was between me and Aspen.

And I wasn’t giving her the money for the ring as a trade.

Okay, in her eyes, I was, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her wander around in the woods alone finding some ridiculous bulldog rock and a buried ring, or let her go into debt for a loser like her ex.

Once she found the money in her account, she could make him disappear from her life for good.

There was no question she had a tight budget.

Her little apartment was too small for her and Sierra.

Her car was far from new. It didn’t sound like she had any family support, whatever the story was there.

She didn’t deserve to have an ex treat her like shit, then go after her like this.

While legally the ring probably belonged to the fucker, but if he did the things she said, she’d earned it.

Sam held up his hands. “Whoa, okay. You met her in Montana?”

“Yeah. She’s a yoga instructor.”

“Yeah? She looks like a ballerina to me.”

“She has a yoga studio in Hunter Valley.”

“Ballet. Yoga. Twice as flexible.” I didn’t like his grin, or that he was right.

“Get your head out of the fucking gutter,” I snapped. Even though I’d gotten inside her before we fell asleep the night before, that was between me and Aspen.

“Does it matter if I’m into her or not? You’re talking like a total asshole.”

He didn’t look the least bit contrite. In fact, he looked as if he had no idea what I meant. “I’ve never seen you like this about a woman.”

“I’ve never been like this about one. When they’re sharks like Lacey, I have no interest.”

“She doesn’t want you for your money?”

“No.”

“You sure? ‘Cause it’s one thing to hide your cash in Montana with a snap shirt and a pair of jeans, but even a natural blonde like her can tell that a private plane and this house means a huge payout.”

The last thing I needed was to be seen on a commercial airplane.

Trapped with fans was not a good idea. The cost of the chartered flight was worth it to stay out of the public’s eye.

As for my house? It cost a fucking fortune but was a good investment.

At least that was what my financial advisor told me.

It had stunning views–including the one I had now of Aspen on my deck–but it was just a place to live.

I worked all the time. I didn’t hang with my neighbors or do block parties.

It was a house. My parents’ place in Nebraska was a home.

With growth charts on the door frame of the kitchen, the burned hole in the living room carpet where my brother and I set it on fire in fifth grade. The love. The family.

This was where I hid out and slept.

If a woman wanted this place, she could have it. What I was stingy with was my heart and I’d give it freely, to the right woman. So far, the only one I ever was willing to share it with was Aspen.

I pushed him toward the door. “Get out.”

He huffed as he stumbled. “What’s the problem? I have your back.”

“No, you have your percentage of my contract,” I countered, opening the door. “If you want to keep it–”

He stood in the entry. “You really do like her.”

He eyed me with surprise, as if the possibility never occurred to him. As if all he dealt with was fake and transactional arrangements between men and women for the purpose of furthering and advancing a career.

The sound of the sliding door had me turning. In came Aspen and she froze when she saw us. “Oh, hey. Sorry to interrupt.”

I held out my hand. “You didn’t, tiger. This is Sam, my agent.”

She smiled and came over. Held out her hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same. You’ve got a good guy here.”

She looked to me, studied my face as if she were considering Sam’s words. “I think so.”

I couldn’t help but wrap my arm around her.

“Well, as your PR person, this relationship is a good thing. The posts you put up have a shit ton of views and likes. The comments are pouring in, especially of the ones of you two with Lacey. Everyone’s wondering who your new girlfriend is and it’s been made pretty fucking clear that you and Lacey aren’t an item.

It’s starting to get traction on the tabloid sites, too. ”

“Good,” I told him. It was working.

“Keep it up. Your screen test tomorrow is going to go great.”

Sam gave a little salute and let himself out. Keep it up? My dick was perpetually up around Aspen. No problem there. And he worded it as if we had to remember to like each other. That this was an arrangement. Well, it was, but I wasn’t pretending how I felt about Aspen.

“He seems… nice,” she said.

I huffed. “He’s jaded. All he sees is work and money.”

She nodded. “I know the type.”

She was familiar with guys like Sam? She was up on workaholics, assholes, or at least an unintentional asshole, completely jaded when it came to women because all he ever came across were social climbers and schemers?

All her guy friends in Hunter Valley were decent. Maybe not Theo James since he had plans to chop me up as if he were Edward Scissorhands, but he did care about his woman. They all seemed to love fiercely. They clearly loved and were protective of it. None of them were like Sam.

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

She nodded. “I guess me being your fake girlfriend worked. I… um, well. My job here is done.”

What? NO! Her job wasn’t done. There was no job. She was here because I wanted her, not because of Lacey. Okay, because of Lacey technically, but no.

“No,” I said.

She looked up at me with confusion. “No?”

“I need you,” I admitted.

Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t think you need me anymore.”

“You’re wrong, tiger. I still need you.”

Since my arm was around her, I pulled her in close and kissed her. I loved kissing her. I loved her in my arms. Her skin was warm and a little sweaty from her workout. I nibbled at her neck, then licked her salty skin. Yeah, I fucking needed her.

“I’m gross. I need to shower,” she said, making no move toward the bathroom.

“Mmm, good idea.” I lifted my head, then took her hand and led her down the hall. “We’ll take one together. Although I’m going to get you very dirty before I get you clean.”

In the bathroom, I ripped off her t-shirt and worked her leggings off. In a plain green athletic bra and matching thong, she looked strong and fit.

“What’s with the dancing?” I asked, reaching into the shower and turning on the spray. I did it without looking because I couldn’t stop staring at her, watching as she shucked her bra and panties. “Did you… fuck, do it as a kid or something?”

My mind went blank because all the blood in my body pumped to my dick. Her tits were small and high with large nipples. Her body was long and lean, and I stared at the juncture of her thighs and her pussy. Neatly trimmed pale hair graced that nirvana. My mouth watered for another taste.

Unlike Lacey–although I hadn’t seen her bare, thank fuck–and other women I knew, Aspen hadn’t had any work done. I loved that she was so uninhibited, so confident in herself. She didn’t want fake tits or a butt lift or lipo, not that she needed it.

She was perfect, every fucking inch of her. It was really hard to concentrate, waving my fingers blindly through the spray to ensure the right temperature.

I pushed down my shorts because I needed in her. Now.

“Yes. I studied ballet for–”

Was she talking? I couldn’t process as I cupped her tits, squeezed them, pinched the nipples, and watched her eyes fall closed and practically melt for me. “Like that?” I asked on a growl.

She squirmed. “God, yes.”

Sliding my hands down her body, I cupped her taut ass and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I carried her into the shower, pressing her against the tile. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Leaning down, I took her nipple in my mouth. Sucked hard.

Her back arched and her fingers tangled in my hair. “Me, too. Don’t stop.”

“Never,” I murmured, latching onto her other nipple next.

I meant it. I wanted this with Aspen. Being with her was simple. Easy. There was no work here. Just want.