Roan (Hollywood Binge #2) Page 4

  “It’s this way,” he said. She cast a sideways look his direction. That intense stare was back on his face. That look had always thrown her off balance, and now, it caused her newfound resolve to slip a notch. Why had she ever agreed to come with him?

  Presley stiffened her spine and started in the direction of the grill. Regretfully, it didn’t matter how fast she walked, he easily kept up, getting to the host stand at the same time as her.

  “Hey, Roan. I thought you were out tonight.”

  Presley recognized the host. He went to their school, but she didn’t know him except by sight. The guy’s gaze slid between them as a slow, knowing smile spread across his face, making her brow lower in speculation. She bet he was somehow involved in this prank.

  “Plans changed. Got room for us?” Roan asked.

  “Sure. You’re Blaine’s girl, right?” The guy she’d never spoken to before was all chatty, reaching for the menus. She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering the best way to answer. If she did or said certain things, would that earn Roan more points in the game?

  Instead of answering either way, she stayed silent. She wouldn’t share anything in case it added to any prize given. That earned her some questioning gazes from both men until the guy looked at Roan and shrugged good-naturedly. Roan did the same, and Presley remained silent, following the host as he started walking inside the restaurant. So many students were there with their families to celebrate the end of the semester. So many witnesses to her humiliation. Her fleeting bravery in the strategy of sticking out the night then dropping Roan on his ass slipped a few notches as her shoulders slumped. Her deep-seated insecurities of being less than threatened her resolve. Maybe she could text Blaine to come pick her up if he hadn’t had too much to drink.

  “I thought I had a table open, but I don’t. I can seat you two at the bar, there’s room over in the corner.” The host stopped in the middle of the restaurant and pointed to a secluded alcove where there were two empty barstools away from everyone else.

  “You good with that?” Roan asked, his breath coating her ear as he leaned forward from where he walked behind her, trying to look at her face.

  “Sure,” she muttered tersely after a brief hesitation, wishing the word goodbye had come from her lips instead.

  Since Roan had signed with Chicago, he’d become a celebrity around town and as they walked back through the restaurant, all eyes stayed trained on him. She’d missed that in their first pass through. The dread building in her gut had her taking the farthest stool away from the dining room, the one against the wall, hoping to be ignored until she could find a way out of this mess. On the other hand, Roan seemed oblivious to all the attention as he took the stool right next to hers, turning his back to the room. He angled his body where he was facing her and had to look to the side, toward the bartender before lifting a finger to gain his attention.

  “Hey, Roan, your regular?”

  “Yeah, what about you?” he asked Presley.

  “A lemon drop,” she answered, quickly coming up with the most expensive drink she could think of since this was such a jerky thing Roan had involved himself in.

  “Can I see some ID?” Anyone at the bar who wasn’t already looking at Roan now watched her as she reached for her purse to produce the fake ID. The bartender scanned the date, then looked up at her, verifying the picture.

  “I thought you were younger,” he stated skeptically.

  “Nope, twenty-one.”

  The bartender still hesitated, really studying the ID. She thought he planned to deny her, adding to her total humiliation, but the guy gave in, handing the license back to her as he asked Roan, “Y’all having dinner?”

  “You hungry?” Roan asked, his full attention focused solely on her, and lord, that was a hard thing to absorb.

  “Not really.” Presley furrowed her brow at that unexpected answer. She’d planned to order enough food to take back to her roommates. It was Roan’s fault. He needed to look the other way. He was too much. This whole thing was just way out of her league.

  “Maybe chips and salsa?” Roan answered, giving her a much-needed mental break as he looked toward the bartender.

  Now the next problem came when Presley tucked the ID in the back of her purse, hanging the strap on the hook underneath the bar. Their proximity on the stools effectively caged her in—his one thigh at her back, the other at her knees, made his sheer size even more pronounced. When she cast her gaze his direction, he was again quietly staring at her. His stare had been hard to ignore when he was across a room, but having him less than a foot away seemed to scramble all her senses. With a deep breath, Presley sat up a little straighter, squared her shoulders while averting her gaze, looking somewhere between Roan’s eyes and the tip of his nose.

  “So, I’m supposed to believe you, being you…” she said, moving her hands in circles around him. Yeah, this made zero sense. “I can’t even finish the thought. Y’all should have thought of someone else to come suck me in. This is absurd.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Roan reached out, tentatively placing a palm on her thigh. The dang thing quivered under his touch. She didn’t move away, but the goose bumps were back, and her gaze followed his hand when his thumb caressed across her now heated skin.

  It was a bold move. Unfortunately, one her heart completely connected with.

  “You’re leaving soon,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with the need that one simple touch created, immediately forgetting all about her resolve to not be a willing participant in his scam. God, he was just too much, coming at her like this.

  “I am. And this is a plan forming as I go. I told you I just found out you were single again.” Her gaze lifted, colliding with his as her heart drummed wildly in her chest. All she could manage was a blink. Then another. No words would form and her breath hitched as Roan lifted his other hand, caressing down the length of her long hair before lifting the ends to sift through his fingers. Slowly, as if he were dealing with a skittish animal, Roan let that hand push underneath her hair to cup her neck. His thumb softly caressed along her jaw. Her heart raced so fast dots fluttered through her vision as her breath caught in her throat. Oh dear God, she was so attracted to Roan. Her body betrayed her. Everything inside pushed her to accept whatever Roan was offering.

  “Beer, martini, chips. Not interrupting, just pointing it out.”

  Her anxious gaze slipped to the bartender who was already retreating. She felt flushed, hot and cold at the same time, as sweat began to trickle down the side of her face. That cold, frosted martini glass looked amazing. With unsteady hands, Presley leaned forward to lift the chilled glass to her lips, drinking down a couple of long gulps as Roan’s hand moved to her back. He stroked up and down her back while the other hand at her thigh moved a fraction of an inch, searing its touch into her soul. Her uncertain, possibly lust-filled gaze, lifted to his handsome face as she continued the long sip.

  Damn if Roan and this martini weren’t a seriously heady mix.

  Only moving the glass low enough to speak, Presley said, “Listen, you should know, I’m almost certain that I’m not a one-night stand girl, and I’m not trying to beat a dead horse, but you’re Roan Westfield. I’m me. I get this is some sort of game. I get it.” She desperately hoped he’d take pity on her, because based on what was going on between her legs, she’d probably be willing to do him right there at the bar if this continued.

  “I know who I am, but I don’t know what that means to you,” he said, his beer left untouched as she placed her near empty glass back on the bar.

  “Every girl wants to date you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Of course it’s true. You’re like… I don’t know…” She gave up trying to make him understand, getting very real as she spoke. “And you want to date someone like me?”

  He seemed to struggle in following her until she said that last sentence. Then he gave a confirming single nod. “Yes, that’s true. Bu
t not someone like you. You.”

  “But you’re leaving,” she declared as any lingering defensiveness began slipping away. She loved hearing him confirm his intentions even if they couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Maybe after I get settled, you could come stay with me for the rest of the summer. Well, until I have to go to training camp, but we’d have time before then,” he suggested, his palm again caressing down her hair as he spoke. For someone who was making things up as he went, he sure seemed to have all the answers.

  “I’m on scholarship, Roan. I have to be here.” Reality sucked and slammed back inside her waning resolve to his tempting offer. Nothing could come between her and her cheerleading scholarship. Part of her requirements was to spend most of the year on campus, available to promote whatever the college needed. She couldn’t take off to Chicago.

  “I know. We’d have to work it out, see if you’re even interested in spending time with me. I’m pretty boring,” he answered.

  God, her range of emotions in just a matter of minutes had her busting out a hysterical-sounding little laugh as the bartender replaced her glass with a fresh new drink that she immediately went for.

  “Eat something. You drank that pretty fast.” Roan moved the basket of chips and salsa closer to her.

  “I can’t. You’re making me too nervous. Is this a trick? Just tell me the truth. I’ll believe you. You’re a good guy.” Her words rushed out in a final desperate attempt to make him stop this nonsense. Presley’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she laid a hand on her pounding heart, wondering if it might ever return to normal.

  Roan smiled that crazy sexy grin and leaned forward, using the hand at her neck to draw her face closer to his. Even as she knew what he planned, unexpected tingles raced across her body the second Roan’s head inched closer. He pressed his lips tentatively against hers. Roan’s eyes were open; he stared at her while moving back a fraction of an inch. She watched his eyes slowly shut. Her breath hitched and her heart stuttered when he came back. His closed mouth lingered on hers, placing small, sensual presses of the lips to hers. She was certain he meant that kiss to be a quick sampling of lips. Yet, he hesitated again. Presley’s eyelids slid closed and her lips parted. Roan took that as an invitation, slipping the tip of his skilled tongue against her lips before sliding fully inside her mouth.

  The moment was electric. Her body warmed, and she squirmed, moving closer to him as she lifted a hand to his cheek. His skin was soft with a hint of whiskers prickling along her palm. Roan swept his tongue across hers, once, then twice, her core clenched and her fingertips touched the silky strands of his dark hair.

  Reluctantly, yet abruptly, Roan ended the moment, moving away enough to look at her, but no farther. The intensity she’d always seen in his gaze magnified by leaps and bounds, and she had to agree: that was the very best kiss of her life. Everything inside her settled as she willed herself to remember every detail of that unexpected moment. He’d upped the bar. That was going on the list of qualities she wanted in a future mate. Hell, everything about Roan Westfield topped that list. How could she ever even match this one moment again?

  Roan smiled. His knowing grin showed he clearly knew the response his actions had produced inside her. He sat back on his stool. She didn’t like the distance he put between them until he used his brute strength to grip her barstool at the base and draw her closer between his spread thighs. The arm at her back circled around, and he cupped his hand on her hip, tugging her closer to his center. The length of her body pressed along his, one thigh lifting over his knee to help with the awkward angle as he whispered hoarsely in her ear, “I knew kissing you would mean everything.” His tone and breath ignited every single one of her senses, the sensations sending her entire body into a frantic tizzy. Presley could only lower her head, close her eyes, and absorb the blow that was Roan Westfield at his very best.

  Chapter Three

  “We need to talk this out.” Roan used his forefinger at her chin to lift her face. He couldn’t resist the urge to place a simple kiss on her full, inviting lips. Dammit, if she wasn’t the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. “I promise to be a gentleman if you come up to my room.”

  At his bold suggestion, Presley looked away, seemingly nervous. She picked up her frosted glass and took another long drink before moving a cold hand to her heated cheek. He got the need for liquid courage. He was throwing a lot at her, but he didn’t want her drunk, not tonight. Roan reached for her glass, depositing it on the bar top as he scooted off his seat, pulling her from her barstool too.

  She wobbled then quickly righted herself on her own. When she looked steady on her feet, he called out to the bartender. “We’re done.”

  “No problem. I’ll charge it to your room.”

  Luckily, Presley didn’t fight him on leaving. She reached for her purse. Roan kept hold of her hand, guiding her out of the crowded bar, not letting himself be sidetracked by some of the good-natured congratulations he got along the way.

  “You all right?” he asked close to her ear once they were alone in the lobby. The move was designed to be near her, but he loved the shiver his words produced. “You cold?”

  “I’m good.” Unfortunately, Presley took a giant step away from him, averting her gaze. She’d done that same move before, and after that kiss they’d shared, he didn’t like the move one single bit.

  Forcing himself to cool his jets, Roan tucked his hands inside his pockets, contemplating the whiplash of emotion Presley was putting him through. One minute, she seemed totally into him; the next, it seemed he was just at the starting gate. What did all that even mean?

  Inside the elevator, Presley stood as far from him as she could. She did the same as she followed him to his room, and she refused to walk in front of him, no matter how hard he tried. Roan had a suite, which, by West Texas standards, meant the bathroom separated the living and bedroom areas. Neither had said another word as he held the door open, extending his hand to invite her in. They shared a brief standoff, silently staring each other down before Presley reluctantly walked inside, took a good look around the room, and headed straight to the restroom.

  God, she was a hot and cold thing. She seemed to respond innately to his touch and that kiss seared his soul. He would have bet his sign-on bonus that she was just as into the kiss as he, but something had her keeping her distance. Roan closed the curtains, turned on a couple of lamps, and tossed the suitcase he’d packed earlier into the closet. That was too much of a glaring reminder that he intended to leave first thing in the morning.

  He was on the opposite side of the large king-size mattress when she came out of the restroom. He stood there watching her closely, much as he always had, but without the worry that she’d catch him looking his fill. He took in everything about Presley, even the subtle sweep of her long eyelashes as she stood there blinking at him. She held her purse and hoodie in one hand. Her tank top showed hints of her flat, tan belly, and her jean shorts were cut short on purpose. What caught his attention most were her breasts. Both nipples poked through her bra and shirt. His mouth watered for wanting to have each of those tight buds in his mouth. Damn! His already rigid dick twitched and wept with anticipation for something that seemed so far out of reach.

  “You make me feel wanted, Roan. I haven’t had a lot of that in my life.”

  No, he didn’t suspect she had. He’d learned enough about her to know her life story, understood the pain she’d endured. He gave her a gentle smile and took a single step forward before halting. He wanted nothing more than to show her how much she meant to him, but he didn’t want to spook her.

  “I do want you. There’s no question in my mind about that, Presley.”

  Like she’d caught him doing many times before, Roan stood there staring. His sole attention focused only on her. Now she understood, at least in theory, when he looked at her like that, studying her so completely, that he was really watching and wanting from afar. Before she busted out laughing at such
an absurd notion, she gathered her scattered thoughts and decided to give herself tonight. Tomorrow, she’d ridicule this decision. At the implication, her breath exhaled in a rush. If Roan Westfield wanted her for the night, she’d live in the moment and take the memories with her forever. She couldn’t have planned this moment better had she tried.

  Presley laid the purse and hoodie on the dresser and nervously raked her hair behind her ears. If she did this, there would be no turning back. Her nervousness had to be reflected in her gaze as she lifted her eyes to his and gave a small grin. Of course, he was still watching her, tracking every move she made. Honestly, she had never felt more desired in her life. She’d always been described as too short, too focused, or too poor. Roan made her feel pretty and, more than that, he made her feel desired.

  Presley had consumed just enough alcohol to give her courage. Gathering her wits, she gripped the hem of her tank and paused a second before she tugged the thin cotton over her head. The air in the room crackled with tension, and Roan didn’t waste a second. He ate up the distance between them. He had to be close to a foot taller than her, but the height difference didn’t seem to get in the way. His hands reached out, tugging her forcefully against his chest, eliminating any space between them. He crushed his mouth against hers, and he drove his tongue forward as she closed her eyes and let loose of the top. Fireworks exploded in her head. Roan greedily ate at her mouth, making love to her in that one single kiss. He dominated her, shredding any lingering resistance. All she could manage was to hang on for the ride, taking everything he offered in a heady dance of tongue and teeth.