The Redhead Series

  “Gracie, you’d know them better as Isaac and Penelope.” The other two main characters in the film. Lane, I already knew I liked. He was grinning big. Rebecca was appraising me a little more carefully, woman to woman. She played the love interest in the film, and I was curious to see what their chemistry was like off of the set.

  “It’s really nice to meet you. Are you staying here as well?” I asked, noticing that Lane was eyeing my chest appreciatively and giving Jack a high five.

  Rebecca laughed kindly at the two of them and answered, “Yes. We have the photo shoot tomorrow, so a few of us decided to come up a day early.” She smiled a bit more warmly, and I got a gut feeling I was going to really like her.

  “I don’t know why Hamilton was keeping you such a secret, Grace. You’re hot!” Lane blurted out.

  “Thanks, Lane. I do have a pretty sweet rack.” I laughed as Jack blushed and shook his head at me, eyes closed. I could tell he was pleased I was getting along with his cast mates so quickly.

  “So, what are your plans for the afternoon? We were just going to get some lunch. You’re welcome to join us,” Rebecca said.

  Jack started to say, “Actually, we were going to get settled in our room—”

  “We would love to come!” I interjected, smiling at both of them. It was my turn to stall now, just for fun.

  We agreed to meet in the oceanfront restaurant in fifteen minutes. We said our good-byes and headed for our cottage. As we walked down the cobblestone pathway, Jack looked at me incredulously.

  “What happened to not being able to wait for the shagging? I thought we were going to spend some time inside today,” he said, shifting my overnight bag to his other shoulder so he could tuck me into his side as we walked.

  “I want to spend some time with your friends while I can. Besides, after how much you teased me this morning about my randiness, now I’m going to make you beg for it,” I said matter-of-factly as we walked up to the front door.

  He looked at me carefully for a moment and then unlocked the door. He let me walk in before him, and I was struck by how lovely and romantic the cottage was. Fireplace, private patio, ocean view, and I could see a scrumptious king-sized bed beckoning from the bedroom. All of this I noticed in the seven seconds it took him to close the door, spin me around, lift me off my feet, and press me back up against the door.

  His eyes burned into mine as he ravaged my neck with his tongue; the suddenness of his attack left me breathless. He bent his head and gently bit my earlobe.

  “You want me to beg for it, Grace?” he whispered.

  “Uh-huh,” I managed to say, beginning to lose focus. He forced my legs to open and wrap around his waist, and I could feel him grinding hard against me. A soft moan escaped me.

  “I’m begging you, Grace. I’m begging you to let me kiss your sweet tits.” His tongue dragged from the top of my cleavage to the base of my neck. “I’m begging you to let me nibble on you.” He ground hard against my core, eliciting a louder groan from me. “I’m begging you to let me taste you.” He held me up against the door with the strength of his body alone, one hand snaking beneath my shorts and finding me instantly, pressing down hard. I gasped his name. “And I’m begging you to let me sink inside, to feel you wrap around my cock as you come over and over again,” he said, bringing me to the fastest orgasm I have ever experienced. I screamed his name, still pressed up against the door. The combination of his hand and the words he’d just spoken in that damnable accent was too much, and I came again, softer but more deeply than the first.

  I loved me some Hamiltonian Dirty Talk . . .

  He backed away, eyes almost black, licking his fingers. “Now we’ll see who’s begging later.” He smirked, watching my dazed expression change to one of determination. “Let’s go keep that lunch date you insisted on, love,” he said, putting his sunglasses on and grinning at me cockily.

  “Gah,” I managed to say, eyes crossed and legs doing the shimmy-shake. This was going to be the longest day of my life.

  We ate lunch with Rebecca and Lane, and I listened to stories about filming. It was interesting to see Jack with his friends. We’d spent so much time wrapped in our own little ball of bliss that it was nice to interact with others.

  Jack told them with pride about my show in New York, and though his voice was tinged with a sadness only I would have noticed, he was unquestionably my biggest fan. When Lane asked how we were going to work a cross-country romance, Jack simply smiled, kissed my hand, and answered, “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

  Rebecca obviously adored Jack and vice versa, and I felt good about leaving him with such a good friend. Lane had starred in a fairly major movie earlier in the summer, and there were already a group of women at a nearby table who’d recognized him. It didn’t take long before Rebecca and Jack were recognized as well, and the women finally approached the table after much giggling. Once there, Lane showered them with hugs. He really was a natural at this. Jack was a little more reserved, as always. He really wasn’t comfortable with his new fame but was taking it all in stride.

  They discussed the photo shoot that was scheduled for tomorrow. It sounded like it would be good, but I wasn’t sure if Jack was expecting me to tag along. I felt that Rebecca and Lane would probably be fine with it, but I didn’t want to get in the way.

  Jack kept his hand on my leg, on my arm, or in my hand the entire time. It was as if he hadn’t heard a word Holly had said about keeping a low profile, and I loved and hated him for it. I was the one who would be crucified by the fans if there were more pictures of me. He really had no idea what an impact he had.

  As the women giggled away and out the front door, I excused myself to visit the ladies’ room. Lane was heading out to the lobby to take a call, so he walked me toward the front.

  “So glad I got to meet you. You’re a cool chick.” He smiled.

  “Yeah, yeah, I bet you say that to all of Jack’s girls,” I said, teasing him.

  “Nope, you are seriously cool.” He left me to blush on the way to the bathroom.

  Moments later, as I headed back to the table, I saw that Jack and Rebecca were deep in conversation. Stepping deliberately behind a potted palm, I listened in. I had no shame . . .

  “Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? Is she older than twenty-seven?”

  He shrugged, his eyes twinkling.

  “How old is she, Jack?”

  “I don’t actually know. She hasn’t told me, and I haven’t asked. I think around thirty, thirty-one maybe. I pinpointed it through all the Corey references.”

  “Wow, she doesn’t look like she’s in her thirties,” Rebecca exclaimed. She was my new favorite person.

  “You bet your sweet ass she doesn’t.” He chuckled.

  “Dude, you should see your face. You’re like all glowy and shit! You’re such a girl!”

  He laughed. “I have always been a girl—you know this.”

  They joked for another minute, and then he told her our story. Where we met, how we met, everything. As I listened, I watched the way his face changed when he recounted something I said or something we had done. I shouldn’t have listened in, but I was glad I did. It gave me an interesting perspective into him and how he was feeling about me. I was falling more and more by the second.

  “And now she got cast in this show, which is brilliant for her. But it’s in New York, and she is leaving in a few days. The timing just sucks.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair.

  “But she won’t be there forever, right? And, honey, with all the press you’re about to do, you’ll be in New York all the time. Stop being such a pussy, Hamilton.”

  He smiled at her. They seemed to be great friends.

  “I know you’re right. It’s just, I can’t tell what she wants to do about all this. I mean, I dunno, she just gets me, and I think—no, I know she fancies me. But she’s getting ready to do this huge thing, it’s so important to her and for her career.”

  “And you’re not? Jesus,
this movie is going to make you a household name! Maybe this isn’t the best time for you to have a girlfriend,” she said, giving voice to my concerns. He was quiet at that.

  Backing away from the palm, I reentered the restaurant, making enough noise with my flip-flops to alert them to my presence. Jack immediately grasped my hand, and I brought his fingers to my lips, kissing them gently. I simply adored him.

  By the time Lane rejoined us and we finished with lunch, it was well past two thirty. Jack begged off on their offer of an afternoon sail, saying he’d made other plans for us. I raised an eyebrow as I was unaware that he’d planned anything.

  As we left the restaurant, Rebecca pulled me into a hug. Surprised but pleased, I hugged her back. “I’m so glad to have met you, Grace. You have no idea.”

  “You too. I’ll see you later?” I asked.

  “Definitely,” she answered.

  Lane wrapped me into a bear hug, and as I laughed, his hands began to travel down toward my bottom.

  “Hey, man, get your hands off my girl.” Jack gallantly pulled me away.

  “Jack, seriously, I can’t help it. That’s one fine woman,” Lane said teasingly, smacking me on my butt.

  I jumped in surprise. “Next time you do that, I spank back,” I said, pinching Lane’s cheeks . . . the ones on his face. We said our good-byes and made our way through the lobby toward the spa.

  “What’re we doing now?” I asked, curious.

  “I booked us a couple’s massage. Nice, right?” he asked, nodding to the receptionist when we walked through the doors.

  “Truly nice. You went all-out this weekend, Mr. Romance. But I told you, I don’t need all this. All I really need is you inside me, deeply,” I said in a whisper as the spa coordinator led us back to the couple’s suite. She gave us instructions on what to take off and what to leave on, if we wished, and then left us to disrobe. The suite was facing the ocean and we could see and hear the waves. I breathed in the salty air as Jack began to undress.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, Hamilton,” I joked, pulling my camisole over my head. I was wearing a new bra, one he hadn’t seen yet. White, lace, lots of cleavage.

  Sweet and slutty.

  His eyes darkened as always when he saw me almost naked, and I delighted in performing a little striptease. I slowly peeled my shorts off, turning to toss them on the chair to show off my white, lacy boy shorts, similar to the ones he’d shredded the night before. He was in the process of taking off his shirt but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw my hands go around back and unclasp my bra.

  “Now, now, we’re getting massages . . . no funny stuff,” I said, scolding him, then slipped the bra down and tossed it at him. It hit him in the head and fell down over his face; he looked like he was in that scene from Weird Science. “But, the question is, do I leave these on or go ahead and take them off? Will I want her to massage me everywhere?” I slipped my thumbs under the bands on either side of my boy shorts, pulling them almost off, but not quite. The critical bits were still covered. “Hmmm, I just don’t know. What do you think, Jack?” I asked, pulling them a little lower, spinning to give him just a peek.

  He quickly turned around, stripped his own clothes off down to his naughty bits, and dove under the blanket draped on his massage table. He pressed his face down into the pillow, and I could hear him groaning. I laughed, finished getting undressed, and slipped under the blanket on my table. We giggled for a few minutes, waiting for the massage therapists to come in, holding hands across the space between us.

  For the next ninety minutes we relaxed, enjoying the treatment fully. Once we’d finished up, we dressed and made our way back to the cottage. I didn’t know what our plans were for the night and was happy to let Jack lead.

  I felt nervous as we approached the cottage. Would we have the sex now?

  Don’t you want to have the sex?

  Yes, yes, of course. But would I have time to change into my sweetly slutty lingerie?

  Jack made up my mind for me when we got inside. “So, I’m going to leave you for a bit to get cleaned up, and then I’ll be back. I made reservations for dinner tonight. How does that sound?”

  “Here at the hotel, I hope,” I murmured, pulling him to me for a hug.

  “Yes, here at the hotel. I figured it was safer that way. If you get a little randy at dinner, we have a place close by,” he said teasingly, his breath warm in my hair as he held me tight. I would miss this—the hugging, the banter, the back-and-forth that was Jack and Grace.

  I pulled back a little to look him in the eyes. “Thank you,” I said.

  “For what?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “For this weekend. It’s perfect,” I answered, kissing him softly.

  He kissed me back slowly, lazily, fueling the fire that was always burning between us.

  “You get a shower. I’ll be back for you in a little bit,” he whispered.

  I sighed as I watched him leave, and then I began to prepare. I would be having hot hotel sex with Jack Hamilton before this night was through.

  Thank God.

  In the time it took me to get ready and Jack to come back from whatever he was doing, I managed to work myself into quite a frenzy. I was excited, nervous, frantic, frazzled, twitterpated . . .

  Anything else?

  Horny; crazy horny.

  Damn straight.

  I was wearing my favorite little black dress, cut low enough to show my cleavage, enhanced by sparkle. Jack now refused to let me wear something low cut without a dusting of shimmer. I had twisted my hair up high on my head, letting a few pieces fall here and there in a carefully constructed do that said, “It’s supposed to look like I just threw it up, but it really took me an hour.”

  As I dabbed perfume in all the right places, it struck me that I hadn’t been this nervous when I lost my virginity. Tommy Jenson, eleventh grade. His parents’ basement on a blanket that smelled like camp. Young MC on the radio. It was quick and painful.

  Ugh.

  I was a Hamilton virgin, and I couldn’t wait to be deflowered.

  Jack came to the bathroom door and knocked. He’d used the other one to get ready.

  “Grace, you decent?”

  “Pfft, like that’s ever stopped you before,” I said teasingly as I appraised myself in the mirror.

  Hair? Nice. Makeup? Flawless. Skin? Glowing. Knockers? Up. Confidence? High.

  I opened the door, and once again he did not disappoint, wearing a gray button-down, black leather jacket, black pants, and my favorite Doc Martens. And he was biting down on his lower lip . . . in an attempt to drive me crazy? Hell yes. I sighed and he sighed back at me, our eyes traveling over each other.

  “Grace, did I tell you how sexy you are today?”

  “Nope, tell me.”

  “You are so sexy. It’s all I can do not to ravage you right here. Because I want you, Nuts Girl. I want you in the most desperate way,” he whispered as he pulled me to him.

  “It does feel that way, doesn’t it?” I shivered as he kissed my neck.

  “Let’s go eat the fastest dinner possible.”

  “We’ll set a new record, George. Mark my words,” I stated, pulling him toward the door.

  Once we were out of the cottage, I started toward the restaurant we’d had lunch in but Jack pulled me toward the waterfront.

  “I arranged something a little more private for us. I hope you don’t mind.”

  We walked across the gardens, the night perfumed thickly with jasmine and rose. We came upon a little pergola that had been set up with one table, two chairs, and a dozen candles that shone through the darkness. I could hear soft music playing, and I was delighted to see that while there was one waiter, there was no one else around. It was like our own little hideaway.

  Who said romance was dead? I smiled at him, letting him lead me the rest of the way, and it was then I realized that I would follow this man anywhere.

  Once seated, he opened a bottle of c
hampagne and poured for both of us. He raised his glass and said with a sexy grin, “Let the seduction of Miss Grace begin.”

  I laughed. “Love, you could seduce me with a Dr Pepper right now. There will be no playing hard to get tonight.”

  He laughed, smiling at me in that way only he could. “I love how funny you are, Gracie.”

  “I love how gorgeous you are to look at, George,” I responded, sipping my champagne and crossing my eyes at him.

  “I love how you call me George,” he quipped, looking at me as if I was the most beautiful creature on the planet.

  “I love that you let me . . .” I trailed off, suddenly emotional as I looked at him.

  “I love that you’ve become so important to me,” he added, gazing at me from under heavily lidded eyes.

  “I love that you are so totally wrapped up in my life now,” I answered, my heart thumping wildly. What were we saying? We both paused, and he seemed to be making a decision . . . but I wanted to say it first. I knew how I felt.

  He breathed in one quick breath and then said, “Grace, I—”

  The waiter returned with our menus, interrupting him. As he began to list the specials, I caught Jack’s eye and winked at him. He smiled back, that perfect smile that now belonged to me. He had my heart. I might as well take that damned sexy grin.

  We ate dinner, laughing and teasing and talking about anything and everything. Even though we’d both said we were going to eat fast, we were enjoying it so much that before I knew it, the candles had burned low, the champagne (both bottles) was long since gone, and we were relaxed and fully happy.

  We were alone, Jack having sent the waiter away eons ago. The stars overhead were bright. The waves were like a soft drumbeat punctuating the night.

  “This was perfect, Jack. Just perfect. Thank you for such a wonderful evening,” I said, taking his hand.

  “Now, hold on, Crazy. This night is just getting started.” H stood and pulled me to him. “I, for one, am ready to head back to our cottage . . . yes? Say yes, Gracie,” he said chidingly, his hand on my face, nodding my head for me.