She gave me a sympathetic look and placed her hand on my own. "Everything okay, Dec?"
I hated when people called me Dec. I also hated when phony people tried to act like they cared. It wasn't even two days ago when Natasha —or Tasha Sinclair as she was known most of the time —had barreled into my trailer, offering me a blow job because she had been bored. She was the daughter of a movie producer, and she was spoiled beyond most people's imaginations. After playing around with her father's money for a few years, she had decided she wanted to get into the family business and act. When Daddy wouldn't hire her on as a leading lady, she'd realized she was going to have to work at it like the rest of us peons. She'd been working her way up ever since. The funny thing was, she was actually pretty damn good. Apparently, hanging around all those celebrities her entire life had taught her a thing or two.
I wished it would have given her more of a personality. I swore helium was coming out of her f**king ears.
"I'm fine, Tasha," I said flatly.
"I could make you better, you know. We have a lunch break coming up. I'll come to your trailer," she said as her fingers brushed my chest.
I glanced up at her then, seeing her perfectly sculpted lips and her deep brown eyes that made the caramel highlights in her hair seem to glow. Her body was sculpted after years of training and probably numerous surgeries. She was flawless in every way, and I just wasn't interested.
"I'm good, thanks."
I didn't even give her the chance to respond. I just extracted her bony fingers from my body and walked away. Normally, I'd be up for a quickie on a break, but this woman didn't want just a bit of fun. She wanted the status of being with me. She wanted to lure me in and then sink her fangs in, thinking she could make us the next celebrity couple. I knew women like her. In Hollywood, I ran away from a hundred just like her. They didn't give two f**ks about me. They only cared about my name and how many magazine spreads I could get them.
And then, there was Leah. She was the other reason I'd stayed away from Natasha. It had been years since I'd given a woman my word, and I intended to keep it. I never made women promises that I couldn't keep. It was why I was so careful with how I treated them. When I'd agreed to Leah's terms last night, it wasn't something I had gone into lightly even though the words had tumbled out of my mouth instantly. Whatever crazy, f**ked-up excuse we had for this relationship, I was going to keep my promise to her until we parted ways.
I just hoped she did the same because as I'd watched her shatter in my arms over and over again while screaming my name, I'd known one thing.
I'd kill any man who touched her.
Chapter Five
~Leah~
"Oh f**k...I'm gonna...oh God!" I screamed right before the orgasm racked through my body, sending pleasure to every nerve ending I possessed.
Declan hovered over me in bed, his gaze hot and intense. His mouth came down onto mine in a scorching kiss that mimicked what the rest of his body was doing as he thrust in and out of my pulsating core. His movements became urgent, and his pace quickened as his body grew closer to the edge of release.
My fingers bit into the skin of his back, and he muttered a curse while he pushed my legs forward, so he could drive in deeper. I could feel the beginning of a second orgasm, and I knew Declan was holding out. He was waiting, like a smug bastard, for me to come again. He always did this, holding back for the second one to come, like he was some sort of sexy god who could conjure an orgasm with the flick of his wrist.
Not that I was complaining.
Nope, not one f**king bit.
But the man could show a bit of humility. He worked my body like he owned it, making it move and explode to his will. And shit, maybe he did...but he could smile a little less about it.
The second orgasm tore through my body, and I convulsed beneath him, screaming his name, as he finally let go with a masculine cry and came with me. He collapsed onto the bed, taking a second to make sure he wouldn't land on top of me, but he still pulled me towards him, curling his arm around me with a firm grasp. Our combined labored breaths filled the small space of my bedroom.
Turning to my side, I watched as he tucked his other hand beneath his head and stared at the ceiling fan while it made lazy circles above us. He was so handsome, a perfect example of male beauty. He was simple yet rugged. He wasn't one of those pretty boys plastered all over the teen magazines. He was the exact personification of a bad boy—the kind daughters were always told to stay away from. And I'd just enjoyed every single inch of him —twice.
As my eyes roamed over his body, I focused on the tattoo centered over his heart. My fingers grazed over it, causing his attention to flitter back to me.
"What does it mean?" I asked as I traced the Celtic knot.
It was a circular design of twisting knots that wove their way over the middle of his chest, directly over his heart. The center of the tattoo was open, empty as if it were waiting for something.
He gave me a look that conveyed confusion and a bit of amusement. It'd been a few weeks since our little arrangement started, and this was probably the first personal question I'd asked. So, sue me. I was curious.
"Well, you know what it is, don't you?"
"Yeah, it's a Celtic knot. But I always thought a Celtic knot traditionally stood for love. So, did you have this tattoo done in honor of someone?" I asked, hoping like hell he wasn't going to tell me a story about some long lost love. I knew what we were doing here wasn't a relationship, but I wasn't keen on lying in bed, naked, while the guy I'd just f**ked bared his soul about his broken heart.
Shit, why did I even ask?
"Yes. Me."
"What?" I asked, completely astonished as I slapped him on the chest. "You're so full of shit!"
"No." He laughed. "I'm serious. I got it to remind myself that when it comes down to it, out of everyone on this Earth, we will always choose ourselves."
"That's not true," I whispered.
"No?" he questioned. "We are a very selfish species. We might say we do things for one reason or another, but when push comes to shove, we do what we do for one specific reason —to put ourselves ahead. When a relationship falls apart and one person says it's for the best,, they're really just looking out for their own best interest.
I began to protest, but he just continued on.
"When you offer someone your space in line at the coffee shop, it's not out of the goodness of your heart. It's because you were hoping that person would notice you, or you wanted to be closer to the person behind them. Nothing we ever do is selfless. We love ourselves first."