Bitch Slap Page 10

  Thirty minutes later, I'm pacing the hallway, trying to decide if the fact that this is taking so long is a good thing or a bad thing. Possibly, she's still groveling. Or maybe he's flown into a screaming rage.

  But hopefully, they've reconciled and they're catching up. Frankly, I like to think that at least one of the Stuart women will leave this town in a good place.

  God, I'm a heel.

  I let Jez believe there was something between us because there was something. But then when it came down to the wire, I shut down and shut up.

  I don't even have the courage of an eighteen-year-old.

  And right here and now, I decide that I'm going to fix that.

  Because, dammit, I think I'm falling in love with Jezebel Stuart. And it's past time that she knew it.

  Fourteen

  Jezebel's right inside the door when we enter the hotel suite, and she glares at both of us as she holds out her phone. "What the hell is this?" she demands, shoving the phone between us.

  I glance down and see an image showing Delilah and Levyl with their arms around each other, and Levyl pressing a kiss to her temple.

  It's posted on Levyl's Instagram page, and the caption reads Love this girl. #DelilahStuart #stillfriends #shesalwaysgotmyback #IveGotHers #austintexas #NoHaterz #WeGotThis

  "We made up," Delilah says. "It's all good now. And Jason--the band's new drummer--snapped the picture. Levyl said that if he posted it, the fans would chill out." She takes the phone from Jez and starts tapping and scrolling, a hell of a lot faster than I can manage on my phone.

  After a moment, she looks to both of us and smiles. "I think he was right. Everything I'm seeing is all thumbs-up. Nothing snarky or mean at all. Not yet, anyway."

  "That's great," I say. "It worked."

  "But it might not have." Jez's voice is tight, and I know that I'm going to have to double-down on the apology I came here for.

  "Oh, come on, Jez," Delilah begins, but Jez just shakes her head, cutting Del off.

  "Go on," she says, pointing to Del's room. And then, when Del hesitates, she adds in a softer voice, "Please. I'm glad it worked out with the fans. And I'm glad you and Levyl made up. But right now, I want to talk to Pierce."

  Del looks at me, and I can see the solidarity on her face. If I want her to stay, she's not going to leave my side.

  "Go on," I say. "I've got this."

  She drags her feet, but she goes, shutting the door firmly behind her. And the second the door snicks into place, Jez lays into me.

  "What the fuck?" she snaps. "I mean, seriously. What. The. Fuck?"

  I lift my hands, trying to calm her down and create a break to get a word in. But she's having none of it.

  "I told you specifically that I was trusting you with my sister. And you promised. Not only that, but you entered into a contract. And this is how you live up to your obligations? Seriously? This could have blown up. It could have completely destroyed her."

  "But it didn't," I finally manage to say.

  Now it's her turn to try to get a word in, but I hold up my hand. "No," I say, taking a step toward her. Which is dangerous, frankly, because right now she looks about ready to boil over. "What was destroying her was knowing that she'd never really apologized to him. That he didn't know how she felt."

  I try to draw a deep breath, but it's hard. My throat is thick with emotion. "And once I realized that," I continue, "I knew I had to help."

  "How altruistic," she snaps. "Why?"

  I look at her face. At those eyes now lit with anger. Eyes that used to look at me with heat. And passion. And humor.

  "Because of you," I say simply. "Because that's what's been destroying me."

  She turns away, looking down so that I can't see her face. "Don't," she whispers. "Don't even go there."

  I hear the vulnerability, and I know I should stop. But I can't. I have to make her understand. Because I'm hollow without her, and I'm so desperate to be filled.

  "Just go," she says. "Please."

  "I can't." I take a step closer. "Jez--everything you said yesterday--"

  She interrupts me with a harsh scoffing sound. "How stupid was I to show you my heart?"

  "Jez, please."

  "I trusted you. With my body. With my secrets. With my sister and her whole career. I thought you were worth it."

  "I am. We are. But I fucked up."

  "Damn right, you did." I hear the thickness in her voice, and I know she's on the verge of tears.

  I step closer. I'm right in front of her now, and I have to force my hands to stay at my sides when all I want to do is touch her. Comfort her.

  "I let my past get in the way," I admit. "I thought about Margie and about the way she hurt me. The way she left. But she shouldn't have been anywhere near my head. It should have just been you. Only you."

  "Then why wasn't it?"

  "Because I'm an asshole."

  She lifts her head, her expression wary. "Keep going."

  "Because I was scared."

  Her brow furrows. "Of what?"

  "Of you. Of everything. Of the way you make me feel."

  She licks her lips, the anger in her eyes starting to dim. "How do I make you feel?"

  "Like maybe I have a chance at forever." I draw a breath for courage. "Like maybe I'm falling in love with you. And I think you're falling with me."

  I hear her breath hitch. "Pierce, I--"

  "No, let me finish. Jez, I know this has been fast--crazy fast. And maybe we're both wrong, but I don't think so. And want to put in the time and the work to find out. More than that, I want to make it work. Mostly, I want us to stay us."

  A tear trickles down her cheek, and I reach up and gently brush it away. "I was afraid, and I hurt you. And I'm so goddamn sorry. Please, Jez. Please say you forgive me."

  She licks her lips and sniffles a little. "Your timing sucks. We don't even have those three days. I'm leaving for LA tomorrow."

  I can't help it; I laugh.

  Her brow arches up. "That's funny?"

  "It's wonderful," I say. "Because you didn't tell me to get lost. All you did was tell me you're leaving. And baby, that's just geography. We can make geography work."

  She says nothing, so I take a step closer, then slide my arms around her waist. "Move here. You and Del. You said you want out of LA, right? So come here. Rent a house. Buy a condo. Live with me. But give it a chance. Del's not a struggling actress. She can live wherever she wants."

  "She'll want LA," Jez says, and I smile again.

  "And she's old enough to live there on her own," I say. "There's this cool invention called the Internet. Texting and video calls and all sorts of magical stuff. And these metal tubes that fly through the sky and get you to LA in only about four hours."

  She smacks me playfully on the shoulder.

  "You shouldn't hit in anger, you know."

  She narrows her eyes. "Maybe I'm not angry anymore."

  "Really?" I press a kiss to her jawline. "I'm very glad to hear it. Of course, I still had a lot of apologizing left." My hands cup her waist, then start to slowly slide up, taking her T-shirt with them.

  "You hurt me."

  "I know," I say, then gently nip her earlobe.

  Her body trembles under my hands, and her breath comes out in a shudder. "I think you need to apologize more."

  I step back so that I can gently pull her T-shirt over her head. "Sweetheart, I'm going to spend the rest of the night apologizing in every way I know how."

  I kiss along her collarbone, then over the swell of her breasts.

  "Enough?" I tease. "Am I forgiven?"

  She cocks her head and presses a finger to her lip, hiding a mischievous smile. "Not even close."

  "In that case," I say, as I kiss my way down her abdomen, lower and lower towards heaven. "I'll just have to work a little bit harder..."

  Epilogue

  Eight months later

  I'm standing in a tux beneath a vine-covered arch at the end of a white, li
nen runway. Above me, the sky is painted a perfect blue. Behind me, the Pacific stretches to infinity.

  From where I'm standing, yards away from the cliff's drop-off, I can't see the crash of the waves against the base of the cliff. But I can hear the roar of the ocean, and I breathe deep, letting the sounds and the sea air settle my nerves as the iconic music begins and the guests in front of me rise from their white, wooden folding chairs.

  I look down the aisle, and it's not until I see her that my breath comes easy again. She's walking in time with the music, holding flowers in front of her, looking more beautiful than ever before.

  I slide my hand into my pocket and finger the small treasure I've put there. A talisman that I hope will settle my nerves.

  Closer and closer she comes until she's standing almost in front of me. She looks straight at me, then steps off to the side, smiling so broadly her eyes crinkle.

  Now she's standing opposite me, and we're like two bookends on either side of Delilah and Levyl, who are holding hands now, their eyes not on each other, but on the man holding the Bible and reading their vows.

  They each say, "I do," and the guests start to applaud. And as Levyl and Delilah kiss, the director standing off to the left and just out of the range of the camera yells, "Cut!"

  Levyl laughs and swings his arm around Delilah's shoulder as she leans into him. "One of my favorite scenes," she teases, and he bends to lightly kiss her.

  They're not dating again, but they've rekindled a strong friendship, and their fans--and the studio--love the continuing will-they-won't-they drama. The movie actually came about to capitalize on their renewed friendship, and Del urged both me and Jez to be extras in this movie. Supposedly just for fun, but also so that Jez and I would have a reason to fly to LA for a long weekend.

  Over the last few months, we've been spending less time in California and more in Texas. At first, Jez was flying back and forth almost weekly so that she could work with Delilah on the basic management of Del's career. But Del's been grabbing the reins more, both by making more of her own decisions and by choosing and hiring a team to pick up the slack.

  "Do you miss it?" I ask as I take Jez's hand and lead her away from the crowd. "Hollywood? The ocean? The California traffic? Handling Dez's stuff?"

  "I miss the ocean," she says. "And I miss Del. But," she adds, as she slides into my arms, "I'm very happy with my trade-off."

  "You mean the house and the garden," I say, referring to the central Austin house we bought last month, and into which we've been pouring a stream of money, sweat, and elbow grease.

  "Absolutely," she says, then rises on her toes to kiss me. "What else could I possibly mean?"

  I grin, then step back, still clutching her hand. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

  I take her back to the archway. Nearby, Del and Levyl and Anissa are chatting with Connor and Cayden and Kerrie, all of whom think they flew out for my movie debut.

  That, however, is only part of it.

  "What?" Jez says, looking around the decorative set piece. "If you're showing me the set, I've seen it already."

  "But you haven't seen this," I say, dropping to one knee and holding up the ring that's been burning a hole in my pocket.

  Jez gasps, her fingers going over her mouth, and I'm not sure if she's holding back tears or laughter. Or maybe she's just in shock.

  "I don't think I could ever find a more perfect venue for a proposal," I say. "And since our friends and sisters are here, I'll never hear the end of it if you shut me down. But that's a risk I have to take. Because I love you, Jez. I think I loved you from the first moment I met you. I love your snark and your heat, your warmth and your sense of humor. You're everything to me. You're my soulmate."

  She blinks, and though her eyes are watery, her face glows.

  "I never thought I would say this again. I never thought I would want to. But Jezebel Stuart, I don't want to go another minute without knowing that you'll be my wife. Baby, will you marry me?"

  My heart is pounding so hard I don't even hear her answer. But I do hear the applause and whistles. And when Jez she pulls me to my feet--when she flings her arms around my neck and kisses me hard and deep--that's when I know her answer for sure.

  It's yes.

  And as I kiss her back, surrounded by our friends and family, I can't believe how lucky I am.

  I hope you enjoyed Jez and Pierce's story! Be sure to subscribe to my newsletter or text JKenner to 21000 so you'll be among the first to know when Connor's book is available!

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  Excerpt from Wicked Grind

  Please enjoy an excerpt from Wicked Grind - a standalone novel set in the exciting world of Stark International!

  He was surrounded by naked women, and he was bored out of his mind.

  Wyatt Royce forced himself not to frown as he lowered his camera and took a step back, his critical eye raking over the four women who stood in front of him in absolutely nothing but their birthday suits.

  Gorgeous women. Confident women. With luscious curves, smooth skin, bright eyes, and the kind of strong, supple muscles that left no doubt that each and every one of them could wrap their legs around a man and hold him tight.

  In other words, each one had an erotic allure. A glow. A certain je ne sais quoi that turned heads and left men hard.

  None of them, however, had it.

  "Wyatt? You ready, man?"

  Jon Paul's voice pulled Wyatt from his frustrated thoughts, and he nodded at his lighting director. "Sorry. Just thinking."

  JP turned his back to the girls before flashing a wolfish grin and lowering his voice. "I'll bet you were."

  Wyatt chuckled. "Down, boy." Wyatt had hired the twenty-three year old UCLA photography grad student as a jack-of-all-trades six months ago. But when JP had proved himself to be not only an excellent photographer, but a prodigy with lighting, the relationship had morphed from boss/assistant to mentor/protege before finally holding steady at friend/colleague.

  JP was damn good at his job, and Wyatt had come to rely on him. But JP's background was in architectural photography. And the fact that the female models he faced every day were not only gorgeous, but often flat-out, one-hundred percent, provocatively nude, continued to be both a fascination to JP and, Wyatt suspected, the cause of a daily cold shower. Or three.

  Not that Wyat
t could criticize. After all, he was the one who'd manufactured the sensual, erotic world in which both he and JP spent their days. For months, he'd lost himself daily inside this studio, locked in with a series of stunning women, their skin warm beneath his fingers as he gently positioned them for the camera. Women eager to please. To move however he directed. To contort their bodies in enticing, provocative poses that were often unnatural and uncomfortable, and for no other reason than that he told them to.

  As long as they were in front of his camera, Wyatt owned those women, fully and completely. And he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that in many ways the photo shoots were as erotically charged as the ultimate photographs.

  So, yeah, he understood the allure, but he'd damn sure never succumbed to it. Not even when so many of his models had made it crystal clear that they were eager to move from his studio to his bedroom.

  There was just too much riding on this project.

  Too much? Hell, everything was riding on his upcoming show. His career. His life. His reputation. Not to mention his personal savings.

  Eighteen months ago he'd set out to make a splash in the world of art and photography, and in just twenty-seven days, he'd find out if he'd succeeded.

  What he hoped was that success would slam against him like a cannonball hitting water. So hard and fast that everybody in the vicinity ended up drenched, with him squarely at the center, the unabashed cause of all the commotion.

  What he feared was that the show would be nothing more than a ripple, as if he'd done little more than stick his big toe into the deep end of the pool.

  Behind him, JP coughed, the harsh sound pulling Wyatt from his thoughts. He glanced up, saw that each of the four women were staring at him with hope in their eyes, and felt like the ultimate heel.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting, ladies. Just trying to decide how I want you." He spoke without any innuendo, but the petite brunette giggled anyway, then immediately pressed her lips together and dipped her gaze to the floor. Wyatt pretended not to notice. "JP, go grab my Leica from my office. I'm thinking I want some black and white shots."

  He wasn't thinking that at all, not really. He was just buying time. Talking out of his ass while he decided what--if anything--to do with the girls.