LA Misbehaved - Complete (Married a Stripper Book 2)

  I wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her as I drove into her, the new angle making us both gasp and groan. I buried one hand in her curls and moved the other down between her legs to find her clit. She jerked the moment I touched the sensitive bundle of nerves, cursing everything under the sun, including my name. One more pass of my fingers, and she was coming at last.

  Still not enough…

  “Dash!”

  As she screamed my name, the pleasure, jagged and broken, hit hard and fast. Burying my face in her hair, eyes closed, I stopped fighting and just gave into it…into her, and let my release wash over me.

  I had no idea what pulled me from sleep.

  One minute, I was so out of it, it was like I wasn’t even alive. The next, I was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, trying to come to grips with the fact that I’d just had the best sex of my life. And that the woman responsible for it was somebody I barely knew.

  Astra shifted in the bed and snuggled in closer, despite the fact that her back was tucked up against my side, her butt pressed in tight against my hip. She was a sleek, curvy bundle, and if I could have just held her and gone right back to sleep, I would have.

  But I was wide awake, and my brain was churning.

  The best sex of my life.

  Hands down.

  Sure, if we could measure the time we’d spent together in hours or days…we’d actually spent a lot of hours together. And I could list quite a few of her dislikes. And her likes too. I already knew her family hadn’t been all that great, and that she was closer to Piety than she was to anyone else.

  I knew she cared about people and not just ones like the Hastings. I knew she liked to read. She had a stash of books she kept tucked on one of the bookshelves in her office at the clinic, and unless it was common practice to have a couple of popular genre authors in the office, I was almost positive they were there for her. They also looked well-read, and well-loved.

  She was funny and headstrong and passionate...

  Actually, thinking about it now, I could list more things I knew about Astra after working with her for a month than I’d known about Layla after…

  Trying to cut the thoughts off before they could start, I closed my eyes. Layla had been looming large in my thoughts a lot lately and not just because of the holidays. Having the clinic this close to opening, thinking about everything I’d worked for, of course I would think about her more.

  But since the moment I laid eyes on Astra Traore, it was like it had kicked everything into overdrive.

  I understood guilt.

  I should. I’d all but choked on it for the past few years of my life. I was still working through it most of the time, but it had hit full force recently, gotten its broken, filthy claws into me, starting with when I’d woken up, wrapped around Astra and more content than I’d ever felt in my life.

  That was…right up until about five minutes ago.

  Three hundred seconds of perfect, pure bliss.

  Part of me still wanted to get up and take off running. Sure, it was my house, but I could get into one of my cars and take off driving, disappear for days. I could go to the airport and be on the other side of the globe within twenty-four hours. I could delegate everything left to do at the clinic, go hands off, and start searching for my next way to make amends.

  It would be easier than staying here.

  The guilt would batter me until I felt like quietly slinking away.

  Turning my head, I studied what little I could see of Astra’s profile.

  Then, carefully, I slid out of bed.

  Wearing a pair of jogging pants and nothing else, I sat in my office chair.

  In one hand, I held a glass of scotch.

  In the other, I held the only picture of Layla I’d kept.

  I was twenty-four when I’d fallen in love with her, and for a kid from California, ridiculously naïve, especially considering I’d been a year from graduating Stanford with a Ph.D. in sociology, an MBA, and a minor in psychology. I should have known better, but after years of everyone – including my parents – not knowing how to deal with someone who, in the world of the beautiful and fake, didn’t follow the usual rules, it’d been refreshing to meet someone like her. Someone who hadn’t looked at me like I was a freak.

  She also hadn’t looked at me for what she might be able to leverage out of a relationship with me. It hadn’t mattered to her that my dad was one of the most famous actors in Hollywood. In truth, I think she would have preferred that I had no connections to Tinseltown.

  Neither of us had ever felt connected to much of anything in the real world here.

  Not until we found each other.

  Even then, it hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t been enough.

  Not for Layla.

  She wouldn’t want you to grieve forever.

  How many times had Didi told me that?

  I put the picture in my lap and closed my eyes. I had no idea what Layla would have wanted. By the time everything ended, she was so far gone from the girl I’d known, I hadn’t really known who she was.

  Didi, however, acted like she knew what Layla would have wanted. I couldn’t decide, however, if it was wishful thinking on her part...or she was just telling me what she felt I needed to hear.

  Bullshit. She loved you. Would she want you alone and lonely?

  “You always told me she was a pain in the ass,” I murmured, lifting Layla’s picture to look at it again.

  Then, achingly aware that I was about to make a huge decision, I sat up. Her smile was somewhat dimmer than it should have been, but I could see the love in that smile.

  It was a reminder, I decided.

  A reminder of what Didi had been telling me for a year. No matter how much she disliked Layla, she’d known that one thing would always be true.

  Layla wouldn’t have wanted me to grieve forever.

  “You wouldn’t,” I said softly, finally acknowledging that. Refusing to think about what I was doing, I reached out and unlocked the file cabinet on the left. Carefully, I put the picture in the back, using a file folder to conceal it.

  It was the first time I ever purposefully hidden that picture – the last one I’d taken of her before everything fell to pieces.

  I’d put the others away a long time ago.

  But this one…it had always mattered more.

  I had no idea what it meant that I was finally putting it away. But it had something to do with the woman sleeping upstairs. And I wasn’t going to run from it this time.

  29

  Astra

  There was absolutely one thing I had to have on Christmas Day, and it had nothing to do with the pile of presents that waited for me back at the guesthouse. Some of those were from Astra, Kaleb, and Camry, and a few small ones were from other friends. I looked forward to those. But the rest of them were from Mom and Dad, and a few mandatory gifts from either close family friends or the staff at the house. I was under no huge compulsion to open any of those, although I wouldn’t mind opening the ones from my friends.

  Yet, there was one thing I was in a mad rush to do, and as I slid out of the bedroom, I shot one last look at Dash and hoped nothing got in the way.

  Five minutes later, I was down in the kitchen, poking around in the fridge and the cabinets, cautiously optimistic.

  From the time I was twelve-years-old, I’d been in control of preparing Christmas breakfast. The one thing my parents let me do and didn’t criticize. Granted, as long as I didn’t have it ready before ten and the bacon wasn’t burnt, my mom and dad had been pathetically easy to please, but I could do much better than prompt and non-charred now.

  Dash’s fridge was a smorgasbord. He had fresh eggs, cheese, bacon, ham, veggies, fruit, milk. I found a half a loaf of French bread that would absolutely work for my special French toast, and that was the very first item on the menu, once I finished washing my hands.

  A few minutes in, I noticed the media system and got some Christmas music playing. By the ti
me the bread was soaking in the eggnog and rum, I was feeling downright festive.

  Singing along with Bing Crosby and David Bowie, I tried to figure how short a time I could get by with letting the bread soak up the batter, then decided I didn’t need to worry about that since Dash wasn’t even awake yet. I had plenty of time.

  Maybe I’d just make myself some coffee and–

  “Shit!”

  Dash stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of workout pants that rode low enough on his hips that I could see those insanely sexy v-grooves. He looked beautifully sleepy, his hair was adorably rumpled. The bemused smile on his face and the way his shoulder was braced against the wall made me think he’d been standing there a while.

  Watching me.

  Putting my hand to my chest, I told my racing heart to calm down.

  “You scared me to death.”

  “By standing in my own hallway?”

  “By standing there, staring at me, and not making a sound!” Sticking my tongue out at him, I absently dusted my shirt off, certain I’d spilled sugar or something on myself while I’d been mixing up the batter for the French toast.

  “What are you doing?” He pushed off the wall and came into the kitchen, eying the mess I had yet to clean up. Sugar, a bottle of rum, milk, eggs, cinnamon, vanilla…it was all spread over the counter, as well as the remaining bread – one sad little heel.

  “I’m making breakfast.”

  He picked up the bottle of rum and raised an eyebrow. “Since when does rum go with breakfast?”

  “Since I’ve been making French toast.” Rolling my eyes, I started to gather things up, hoping I could remember where they went.

  “You’re making French toast?”

  “Uh-huh.” The spice cabinet was easy. Everything was organized, as neat as a pin, and I had no trouble figuring out where the vanilla and cinnamon went. The sugar went in the next cabinet over. So far, so good.

  “You’re making it from scratch?”

  Hitching up a shoulder, I grabbed the rum and stood in the middle of the kitchen. I couldn’t remember where he kept his liquor.

  “Cabinet by the fridge. You didn’t answer me.”

  “What? Oh. The French toast.” I glanced back at him as I put the rum back into the slim cabinet and shrugged. “How else do you make French toast? Although it could be better. I usually make challah bread and let it sit a day or so, then make it.”

  “Challah bread.”

  “Yeah.” There was a sponge in the counter behind the sink, and I grabbed it, wiping up the mess I’d made. “I’ve got a friend in New York. Piety and I went to college with her. Her mom owns a deli in Manhattan. Best French toast you’ve ever had in your life. It’s all in the bread. They taught me how to make challah bread. Mine’s not quite as good as theirs, but it’s close.”

  Satisfied that I’d clean up most of my disaster, I dumped the sponge back into the sink and turned to smile at Dash. “There. All cleaned up.”

  He was still giving me that weird look.

  “You make homemade bread too.”

  “Geez, it’s not hard.” Laughing, I pushed my hair back from my face, feeling self-conscious as he drew nearer. “It’s flour. Yeast. Eggs. Honey.”

  “Sounds delicious.” He reached up and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “You’ve got sugar on your cheek.”

  “Oh.” I went to brush it away.

  He caught my wrist and eased it down, dipping his head to brush his lips over my cheek.

  A moment later, he caught me around the waist and boosted me up, settling me on the counter. “You’re making me breakfast.”

  Our eyes met. Shrugging, I said, “I’m making us breakfast. It’s Christmas. We should have a nice breakfast.”

  He rubbed his hands up my thighs, shaking his head like he was completely confused by this entire idea.

  “Nobody has made me breakfast since…” He stopped and shook his head. “I think the only time anybody has ever made me breakfast was when they were paid to do it.”

  Usually, I really sucked at controlling my impulses, and most of the time, I didn’t even bother to try. I’d been trying to behave myself with him, but even as I couldn’t help but think…man, that’s shitty, I didn’t say it. Instead, I cupped his face and tugged his head down until I could kiss him. It might not have been the smart thing to do since I wasn’t entirely sure where we stood this morning, but it was what I wanted to do. Until one of us did something to ruin what we had going, I would hold on to it all.

  “Well, get ready to have yourself ruined then,” I said, making myself smile against his lips. “Because once you’ve had breakfast made by me, you won’t ever want to settle for anything less.”

  “No. I don’t think I would.” His lips cruised over to my cheek, then down my neck. My breath hissed out of me as he raked his teeth across sensitive skin. “How long do we have before it’s ready, Astra?”

  “Um…well, that’s up to us.” Squirming on the cool tile under my mostly naked butt, I clung to his shoulder. “The bread is in the fridge right now, soaking in the batter. I can start it now…or wait.”

  “Let’s wait.” He pulled me off the counter.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, and my legs around his waist, head spinning.

  It was spinning even more when, a few seconds later, I found myself bent over the table just a few feet away.

  “I’ve had dreams of seeing you like this,” Dash said, bending over to whisper in my ear. “Especially after seeing you in those snug skirts you’ve grown so fond of wearing. Pushing it up, bending you over your desk…mine…hell, the receptionist’s desk or the table in the break room would be fine with me. I just want to…”

  He straightened, going silent as he cupped my ass, his thumbs tracing the seam between my cheeks slowly, and then spreading me. I shivered.

  “You drive me insane.”

  A moment later, he was inside me.

  No warning. No teasing. Just his hands stroking me, then a few seconds later, he lifted my hips and thrust inside. That sheer, animalistic hunger drove a strangled scream out of me. He slid a hand up my side, under the shirt, and cupped one breast in his hand, squeezing and kneading.

  The rough handling should have been a shock after last night.

  And it was, in a way.

  The absolute best kind.

  It was fast and hard, only a dozen strokes, and I was coming in a burst of furious white heat.

  I hadn’t even come down from it when he pulled out and flipped me over onto my back, standing between my legs as he wrapped his hand around his cock and started to stroke. His face was flushed as he stared at me, my tousled curls, t-shirt rucked up around my waist to expose everything below it. My panties hanging off one foot.

  “I want to do that,” I said, hand opening and closing as if I could feel him in my grip. “Let me touch you.”

  “Later.” His body shuddered, head falling back. The powerful line of his jaw worked, then slowly, he stopped moving, opened his eyes to look at me. “I didn’t bring a condom with me. I half forgot about it. I didn’t come inside you, I swear, but…”

  Oh.

  I propped myself up on my elbows. “I’ve got an IUD. I’m clean. Are you?”

  “Mature people don’t talk about this sort of thing in the heat of the moment.”

  “If I wasn’t clean, I wouldn’t have had sex with you without telling you. I figure you’re the same.” I wrapped my legs around his waist and tugged. “Make love to me, Dash. Come inside me.”

  He settled his weight on me, tucking the head of his cock against me, but not quite entering me yet. “Your wish is my command, Astra.”

  He kissed me as he slowly sank inside, his length stretching and filling me. He was slick, hot and the feel of him without a condom was beyond amazing, not just physically but mentally, emotionally. He kept his weight mostly on one elbow, while he gripped my hip in his other hand, slowly working me up, then down as he rode me.

&nbsp
; What had started out raw and rough, now ended slow, almost sweet, my mouth melded to his as he swallowed down my cries. When I came this time, it was different than before. Less of an explosion and more like the feeling of molten lava rolling over me, coating my skin. Then he filled me, crying out my name.

  When it was over, he rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him, his legs hanging over the edge of the table. My heart thundered in my ears while his pulse slammed into my chest.

  “I’m going to have this table bronzed,” he mumbled.

  I giggled.

  And then it hit me. I’d seen Kaleb do something similar with Piety. And she’d responded much the same way I’d wanted to just now.

  By saying something I’d never said to a man before.

  I almost told Dash I loved him.

  Oh. Shit.

  30

  Dash

  “You sure you’re not getting sick?”

  I didn’t like how worried I was.

  Of course, I’d be a dick not to be concerned when my...when the woman I...shit...when she was so damn pale. We’d spent the last few days fucking like a couple of bunnies who’d been nibbling on some sort of aphrodisiac, spending all of our time together so that everything from Christmas Eve night until now felt like a surreal blur of lust and passion. Why wouldn’t I be worried?

  Astra rose onto her toes and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, giving me a soft smile. “I’m not sick, I promise. I have issues with headaches sometimes. I use massages and stuff to keep them under control, but I haven’t had time to find a masseuse since I moved.”

  “I can make some calls.” Still concerned, I covered her neck with my hand. Man, she was a nest of knots back there. I really hoped I wasn’t the cause of any of those.

  “Hmmm.” She leaned into my touch. “Just the heat feels good. I appreciate the thought, but it’s okay. I texted Didi, asked if she might know somebody. A friend of hers does deep tissue, just the kind of thing I need. I’ll get a massage, rest a little. Might pick up some tea I use that helps with headaches. If I feel better, I’ll be into work later.”