Page 73 of His Girl Hollywood
It was all she needed. She pushed his hands away and shucked his pants from his legs, kicking them off the bed. She scrambled to place herself above him, and he reached between them, guiding himself into her until she was fully seated with him inside her. It was…unlike anything she’d ever felt before. He stretched and pushed at her, but only in the most pleasant of ways. She felt full. No, not just full, whole with him inside of her. She placed her hands on either side of his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him, grinding her hips in a circle until he hissed with pleasure.
As she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged, she lifted her bottom, rising ever so slightly off of him and then plunging down again. He placed a hand to her chest, kneading her nipple and bringing it to his mouth, sucking hard. It made her clench, and he throbbed inside her. This felt right. Like the only thing that mattered was him and her and the pleasure they could bring each other. She rearranged herself so he was even deeper inside her, the knot of her clit rubbing against his shaft.
He looked at her and wrapped his hand in the curls of her hair at the bottom of her neck, kissing her with a bruising passion. She rode him harder, each upward thrust hitting something unknowable inside her that offered an answer to a question she’d never known she’d asked. He kneaded her breast with one hand, while he held her to him with the other, their chests pressed together as their movements became more frantic and jerky. He clasped his palm to her cheek. “Look at me.”
She did as he asked. There was something wild in his eyes. She was certain she had the same look. “I want to see the moment you come apart,” he whispered.
The words were enough to send her tumbling over the edge, awave of pleasure cresting, then crashing over her. As she rode out the last of it, he strained and pressed his forehead to hers, his climax pushing a guttural sound from his mouth. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as if he were clinging to her for dear life. When he finished, he collapsed back against the pillows, bringing her with him. She panted against his chest, her hair wild and strewn around her. She was untethered, a creature of the night, made of stardust and moonlight. Something wilder but altogether more human than she’d ever been before.
They were covered in sweat, struggling to catch their breath, but all she could hear as she pressed herself to him was the beat of his heart, fast and hurried, but steady and true. It was as she’d always hoped, no,knownit could be.
Chapter 29
When Arlene awoke, the room was bathed in moonlight, a pearlescent gleam illuminating the walls. Her head was still atop Don’s chest, his hand in her hair, and their legs were tangled together in a way that made it impossible to tell where one of them started and the other began. She wanted to go back to sleep, to savor this moment and never wake up from this dream. Because all too soon, it would be morning and there would be Frankie and the picture and Harry and her mother to worry about. But here and now, it was her and Don and nothing else mattered.
She cast a glance at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly two in the morning. They had hours more before reality came crashing in. She yawned and moved her arm, trying to shake some of the tingling sensation from it. Without saying a word, Don leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered.
“You didn’t, don’t worry. I’ve been awake for a while.”
She turned her head to look at him, as he stroked her hair back from her brow. “Why?” She feared the answer. What if he regretted what they’d done? What if he thought it was a mistake? Or worse, a one-time thing, a thank-God-I’m-alive fuck, not a moment of passion ten years in the making?
“I’ve been thinking about my parents.”
That was not what she’d expected to hear. “I told you we shouldn’t have done it in this room.”
He chuckled into her hair. “No, it’s not that. I’ve been thinking about them living here, between these four walls, and never caring to venture any farther to see what else might be out there in the world.” He paused, but she could sense he wasn’t finished yet. “I’ve been wondering what they would’ve done today. If they were still alive.”
Arlene didn’t answer, pressing a kiss to his chest. Because they both knew the answer. Michael Lazzarini would have done nothing. He would’ve let his son rot, saying he deserved what he got. Don exhaled, the weight of the world in his breath. “Why didyoucome for me?”
She hugged him tightly, then lifted her head. “Did you doubt I would?”
He swallowed, then nodded. “I left you the clue, hoping you’d figure it out. But I didn’t really believe you—or anyone—would come. That anyone cared. I’ve spent my whole life thinking that I was something to be ashamed of, that because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life stinking like fish, I was a disappointment. The first person who believed in me turned out to be a gangster who wanted me only for the money with which I could line his pockets.”
She bent over and kissed his cheek. “Frankie Martino was not the first person who believed in you.” She gave him a meaningful look, but there was still something lost and hurt in his eyes.
He leaned back against the headboard and put his arm behind his head. “You might’ve been the first,” he murmured. “But I didn’t give you a whole lotta reason to keep believing.”
She fumbled under the covers until she found his hand and wrapped her fingers between his. “That’s true. I thought youabandoned me. Not just me.Us.My parents believed in you too. But in putting this town, your parents, behind you, it felt like you wanted to forget all of us.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I know.”
She looked up at him and met his gaze, something tortured and pained in his eyes. “Why, Don? Why didn’t you write? Explain yourself.”
“And tell you what? That I’d been the biggest idiot east of the Mississippi? That I was dancing and still dirt-poor because my manager took every cent I earned? That everything I was and could be was tied up with something filthy and evil? That I’d been arrested three times working gigs for Frankie in illegal watering holes? I would’ve rather told you I was on the breadline than tell you that.”
She cupped his cheek and held it tenderly. “Don’t you think I would’ve understood, would’ve tried to help you find a way out?”
He laid his hand atop the one she had on his cheek, drawing it to his lips and kissing it. Then he gently returned her hand to her and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I didn’t want you to help me. I didn’t want you to know anything about Frankie Martino. You or your parents. You’d always believed in me. How could I admit to you what a failure I was? That I’d become the two-bit chump my father always said I would be.”
“We never would have seen it that way.”
He dragged his hands down his face. “I know. That became all the more reason not to tell you. Then you would’ve been involved. And in danger. I couldn’t do that to you. Frankie already took someone I loved. I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else.”
Her heart fluttered at that. Someone he loved. Was he including her? “Tell me.” She scooted to the side of the bed beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. They were naked before eachother, and there was still so much they were hiding. But that ended now. It was time to put all their cards on the table. She pressed a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. “Please, Don, I need to know. No more secrets. All they’ve ever done is hurt us both.”
He swallowed and nodded. “I had a girl in New York for a while. Her name was Mabel. She was a nice girl, a model. We met at the El Morocco coat check, both trying to make a run for the soda counter at the drugstore down the street. She was sweet. And beautiful, one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”
Arlene tangled her hand with his and squeezed, urging him to continue. “Did he…did Frankie kill her?”