Date one was a go.
I tousled my hair in the mirror, pulling a few loose strands to frame my face. Then I cocked my head and twirled to see how flexible the do was.
"Too flashy."
I quickly straightened my tresses, putting my waist length brown hair into a half up, half down style, securing the up part with a stylish coquette-like claw clip. I groaned and tossed the claw clip back onto my vanity.
"Too fucking girly."
My image in the mirror looks back at me, my straightened hair falling to one side, exposing my neck and collarbone full of freckles. My lips were in my favorite nude pink shade, and I smiled to myself. Bingo.
A rose-pattern white dress from summers ago lay on my bed, and wasting no time, I put it on. The light breeze sifting into my room in my penthouse apartment rustled the fabric slightly, giving that angelic illusion. My breasts bulged out of the square neckline though, so I was just as sexy as I was delicate.
On the dresser, my phone beeped twice, and I answered Leigh's call with a quick swipe.
"Rixie, what are you wearing?"
"Oh hey. How's honeymooning? Pregnant yet?" I chirped.
I heard Leigh's smile from all across the globe. "No, but… it's been really good. We're deciding to wait a year before all the diaper madness comes in."
"Smart. Anyway, what do you think?" I performed my spin and pirouette for Leigh, and she chuckled and brandished two thumbs up to me.
"You get hotter every time I see you. But why are you dressed up? Where are you going?"
I cleared my throat and sat right in front of the camera so my big sister could look me in the eye when I said it.
"I'm meeting Roman."
Leigh coughed out her coconut water, the Caribbean wind ruffling her brown her identical to mine. Then she looked at my outfit and cocked a brow.
"Are you trying to sleep with him?"
Of course I wasn't going to tell my sister I fucked her husband's good friend on her wedding day. No matter how understanding Leigh was, I didn't want to have to explain why I did it. Because she was my big sister anyway, and she'd react as all big sisters react. I'd received enough scolding already.
"Well, Lady Wilder approved of hanging with her son, so…."
"Lady Wilder didn't have to. Roman's pretty take-charge with things. His mom just likes you."
Leigh went on to rave about how good my recent movie was and how much she was looking forward to the new one. I told her, as I always tell Leigh, everything else, from trying to snag Roman for a role to my intense attraction to him.
"Be careful, Rixie. He's Roman. I mean, he might be your typical type, but you know… he's Roman."
I rolled my eyes and kissed her goodbye. I so didn't want the energy, but my throat tightened in response to her advice. She wasn't wrong, at all. Roman was Roman, and I had to play my cards right. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be playing cards, but Leigh always knew better. Trust in her was non-negotiable.
With my purse slung over a shoulder and a second reapplication of my lip gloss, I headed out of my penthouse. Roman was at the bar, he already texted. I buckled into my car and shot off, eager for the after-party of the date. Frankly, there wasn't much to talk to Roman about besides our obvious chemistry.
Or so I thought.
An hour later, while we both sat opposite ourselves, knees bumping and eye contact unbreakable, I figured there was more depth to him. There was hardly time to explore all that anyway; my hands found his thighs and the next thing I know, Roman's driver raced us to a hotel nearby.
My hands decorated his skin with scratches and adorn his member with suckles and kisses. I was raging hot with want, and with every thrust the fire blew with maddening fury. I moaned and panted as Roman's hips shot in and out of focus. The point where we met was slippery, the air smelled of vanilla and wood musk. My thoughts were of him, of his gaze on all of me. He traced my sultry curves with a light hand, then his grip fastened, firm but gentle.
"Hi," I whispered to him when we were finished, our naked limbs tangled with one another's.
This isn't the routine, Erika. Get up and get out. I shook the thoughts from my mind and found myself unwilling to leave. It had been three hours since we got here, and while calling my driver over to take me home was an option, the idea wasn't just feasible. I wanted to stay, for whatever reason.
The thought slammed into me again, the thought of something more. I washed it away, gritting my teeth as I did.
"Hi," Roman whispered in my ear.
We both stared at the ceiling, waiting for the other person's move. Erika, get up and leave. But I didn't want to.
"Why do you do it, the way you do it?"
I faced Roman with my elbow propped on the pillow, my hand on my temple. "Do what?"
"Act. You become… You change. It's like the person you are isn't the person in front of the camera."
I laughed softly. He looked at me, his gaze unwavering. I told myself I wouldn't mind if he did that often.
"That's why it's called acting, Wilder. I'm not supposed to be the same person."
"Aren't you scared?"
Boy was I scared of many things, but I asked, "Of what?" as though I didn't know exactly where this smart ass was heading with that question.
"Of them. The characters you play."
I smiled and leaned closer to him. Out breaths mingled and steamed up in the air separating us. I fizzled into his gaze and he looked at me like he was fizzling into mine.
"I am. Sometimes. It's not as bad as you think."
Roman opened his mouth, like he was about to say something, then he shut it and let out a heavy exhale. We stayed like that, saying nothing to each other with our mouths, but so much with our eyes. I couldn't tell you what we were communicating between ourselves, but I knew it was less about acting. Or maybe it was more so about acting. Honestly, I didn't know anymore. And neither did Roman, from the looks of it.
It wasn't a surprise when all that staring stirred our lust right back to boiling point. My creamy skin was peppered with my freckles and hickeys, expertly planted so I wouldn't be asked too many questions on set. We went right back into sex; this time, aggression ruled our movements. Not aggression like I was being violated. The subtle kind. The kind that was so micro, a person peeking would have to have been watching us in 8k to see it.
I understood some of Roman then; the reason he looked on at his mother's hobby for the big—and little—screen with apprehension.
The sex lasted for 15 minutes, adequate timing in my books. No one liked when this went on for longer than necessary. Roman's elbow was propped on the pillow this time, and we gazed at each other in that position.
I knew then, from everything we hadn't spoken of, that date two was going to be a rollercoaster ride, bumps and whirlwinds and all.