Chapter One
(Hillary)
I spun in a slow circle. Taking in the lights, the idle cameras, and thousands of empty plush seats. The gigantic space appeared endless and I felt dizzy when I imagined it full of people–the way he saw it, standing in the center of the coliseum on a squared platform, enclosed by springy ropes.
I tried to imagine how the rumble of excitement would feel beneath my heel and how the fan’s roaring cheers and jeers would tingle my ears. How did it feel being the center of attention? I closed my eyes. Just the thought of all those people watching my every move made my heart race and my stomach churn, ready to spew its bland vending machine lunch.
How did he do it night after night? My eyes shifted to him, Ethan Hart, the famous bad boy, casually leaned against a turnbuckle in faded jeans and a plain white tank that exposed thick biceps. Just the sight of him turned me to dumbfounded stone. He flashed cute dimples, curled full lips into that well-known half-smirk, and untamed dirty blonde locks hid one eye.
The up-close view flabbergasted, causing me to stand wide-eyed. Jaw unhinged. Just like the first time I had seen him…but he was so much taller than he appeared on my thirty-two-inch screen. His shoulders, much broader. His arms, just the right amount of definition, which meant he wasn’t freakishly muscular with veins pushed up against his skin. I hated that.
Ethan enjoyed an atypical career. He was a professional wrestler and he displayed his talent live on camera. His character, a hardcore, take what he wanted, even if it didn’t belong to him, type of man, earned notoriety almost as much as his electric coal-black eyes. Which, at that moment, he focused on me with unwavering attention, causing my pulse to quicken and my frame to bob with each step he took to close the distance between us.
‘Oh geeze, he’s coming closer!’ I gulped. My eyes fixed, I forced back an excited grin and held a hand on my fluttering stomach, until he was standing so close I could see my own image reflecting in his eyes.
He brought a broad hand to cup my cheek. The slightly calloused, gentle touch said that his job was more than glitzy glamour.
I closed my eyes. Inhaled his woodsy cologne, allowing it to cast a mesmerizing spell and turn me into putty in his hands, and from the twinkle in his eye, I think he noticed.
Lightly, lips touched mine, rolling seductively over my bottom lip as he pulled them away. His gaze met mine, and he stared as if I were the only woman he had ever been so eager to kiss.
My thoughts begged. Pleaded. Desperately needing something vocal. Anything! One word from him could break the hypnotic effect and save me from slipping off the edge of rationality. But he said nothing! Gave me nothing! Except for an impish smirk that made me wonder if he could see every hidden desire concealed behind my timid gawp.
Softly, he grazed my bare shoulder with his fingertips, then trailed them down my arm. All the while, his eyes locked. His gaze filled with… adoration? Desire? Lust? I wanted to think it mattered. It should have mattered, but I wasn’t so sure.
He lowered his lips to my neck. It tilted in obedience. Inside, I struggled to resist. Reminding myself why I couldn’t. Why I shouldn’t…a rogue moan escaped without my permission.
He emitted a pleased, breathy chuckle, then he repeated his actions. Opening his mouth and lightly sucking the skin, causing my legs, weak as wet noodles, to wobble. My body gave in, following his every command. Ignoring inner chiding as if my brain could no longer control its actions.
Our bodies slipped lower until I laid flat on the mat beneath his hovering frame, which was exactly where he wanted me.
He gazed long. Never blinking. Making me wonder if I had something on my face.
“Can I?” he asked with an innocence that made me forget that he held all the power.
I nodded.
His lips passionately took control and I parted mine. Allowing our tongues to enjoy their dance while the warmth of his palm on my stomach sent a slight shiver of nervousness as it traced a path.
‘You’re not like this. You’re not this kind of girl,’ the little voice in my head annoyed.
True. There were so many reasons to bolt from his embrace, but I enjoyed the kiss too much to dwell on them and when a sudden, unexpected graze awakened a sensitive bud, my last ounce of composure vaporized.
He coaxed my arms to raise, slipped away a tight tank top, and began a slow, torturous descent of kisses from my neck to my navel. My back arched in anticipation as he released the button and unzipped my khakis with expert ease, which should have brought me out of the trance. Instead, it drove my temporary insanity to the point of no return.
‘What are you doing?’ The question spun around my head. I didn’t know this guy. Had no clue if Ethan Hart was his birth name or stage name—The voice grew fainter as the pace of my heart increased—I tugged on the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer until I felt his hard length press against me.
‘Are you crazy?’ I was not the promiscuous type. I didn’t chase after men, didn’t kiss strangers, and—I couldn’t remember a time when I wanted—no—desperately needed the no-holds-barred lust that seeped from every graze of Ethan’s fingertips. I didn’t care if it happened right there in the middle of the ring he would soon compete in. It just had to happen!
“Hillary,” Ethan whispered.
I stood too close to an open fire and Ethan was that fire. The heat engulfed my frame from head to toe until the flame grew too hot, forcing me to take a step back.
Out of breath, I stared up at him and held him at arm’s length with a hand on his chest.
“Do you want me?” He asked.
‘Are you kidding me? Yes! Of course, I do! Every woman in the freakin’ world wants you!’ The man had my tongue twisted in an tight knot! All I could do was bob my head.
My nod unleashed the beast inside of him. Hungrily, his mouth returned to mine, closing down. His teeth gently tugging the tip of my tongue as I pulled away. His touch glided up the side of my torso, teasing and tantalizing before returning to bare nipples and I forgot how to breath.
My fingertips dug into his strong, flexing shoulders. My lips curled around any part of him I could get to. His shoulder. His bicep. I was starving and the man drove me insane! No one would turn down a chance to be with a star, so why should I?
‘Oh, The hell with it all!’ I pressed every part imaginable against him, hinting that I wanted much more and I wanted it quickly.
“You’re very beautiful, Hillary.”
The sound of my name caused a tidal wave of erotic pleasure. It was a first. Hearing my name in the throes of passion. I liked it. I loved it and it fueled an uncontrollable want, moistening intimate parts before they had even felt a physical touch. It was almost more than I could stand and he had yet to remove his clothes—wait? Why hadn’t he removed his clothes?
Impatiently, I grasped the bottom of his soft cotton tank and raised it high, eager to expose the defined pecs and dragon tattoo he displayed to the world every Friday night. I liked that tattoo and I wasn’t the type that found ink attractive—There it was!
I traced that well-known design with a soft forefinger, provoking his tremble and exposing an appetite as great as my own.
Hillary Daniels!” A gentle shake of the shoulders snapped my head upright.
“Huh? Wh…What?”
“Don’t you sleep at home anymore?” Tori Malone laughed and plopped into the seat across from me. “What were you dreaming about? I know you were dreaming, woman. Don’t even try to deny it. You moan in your sleep.”
I could feel the temperature of my cheeks rise dangerously high as if Tori had been a front-row witness to the shameless dream I had enjoyed.
I touched palms to surely crimson cheeks. It was Tori’s fault. She was the one who had to watch that stupid wrestling show as if it were part of her religion.
“So, who was it about?”
My heart thumped fast and hard. I pressed a palm against my chest and took a deep breath to regain control. For a moment, a foggy disorientation engulfed my mind. The dream still lingered, so vivid I thought I could reach out and truly touch the celebrity.
I gave my head a slight shake and watched the empty arena burst like tiny bubbles, leaving behind nothing but the simple tables and chairs of the tiny break room.
“Come on. Spill!”
“None of your business!” I playfully slapped the hand that stole a french-fry from my plate. “Get your own junk food!” I picked up my glasses from the table and slipped them over the bridge of my nose, feeling half-dressed without them.
“I know who it was about.” With her wild jet black hair and thick black eye makeup, Tori impishly flicked her gaze toward the hall where the new hire, a beefy slab of a man, pushed a large food cart past the canteen door.
“Uh…no,” I shot down the idea. Again, Tori pointed out the forbidden. Like I hadn’t fantasized about that already.
“I wouldn’t mind being locked in a room with him,” Tori referenced the prior week. His first day. The head cook forgot about him and bolted the kitchen gate, trapping the poor guy inside. It was three hours before someone found him and I admit, I wished I could have been locked in with him.
I glanced and caught his oh-so-dashing smile and felt dirty.
He dipped his eyes. His grin, slightly shy, as if he knew our conversation was about him. With Tori’s volume, he probably did.
He was a tempting dish though. No argument there. Tall, brawny, dark shoulder-length hair tied neatly at his nape, and full, beaming, broad lips. Heavy, but not obese, his middle slightly soft. A real teddy bear, but I was spoken for. Sort of.
He winked at us and a sigh escaped my lips. Damn, I was sick of the good girl I had to be, even in my mind.
Yeah, that was me lately. Meek and mild Hillary. Following every rule. Completely faithful. Always.
Once upon a time, I would have walked right up to a good-looking guy like that with no fear of rejection. Confident. Not caring if I made a complete fool of myself, and I had never once felt embarrassed because I didn’t give a damn who gasped and whispered. Besides, I was never the crazy kind of wild. My actions had never hurt anybody and my clothes stayed on. When did that part of me die?
I could ignore the negative from strangers, but when it came from someone close, someone my heart cherished, it cut deep, and there’s a limit to how much the mind can brush off before it breaks. That’s how I felt. Broken. Shattered.
‘If only you looked like that.’
‘Why can’t you be more like …’
‘You should know how to make me happy by now.’
‘You’re an embarrassment …’
Unfixable, worthless. I could never do enough and what I managed to get done, I did wrong. Eventually, all of that settled deep into my subconscious, orchestrating every thought and action. Leaving as a shell of my former self, sitting quietly in the corner, carefully analyzing every word, every step, every expression.
My life was, well…my life. I wasn’t old, but I was no longer a teenager. Days of hoping and wondering about the future were long gone. And without those two things, there was nothing left but harsh reality. The struggles and stress of adulthood hadn’t made me stronger. They had tamed, scared, and drained the color, leaving nothing but the bleak and dull what is.
“You should ask him out.”
“You know I can’t. He’s all yours.” But I would think about it. Lately, controlling my subconscious was nearly impossible.
I dreamed of that guy from the kitchen, the cowboy on the billboard in town, and mostly, I fantasized about the wrestler, Ethan Hart. And even though none of it was real, the guilt was.
“Oh, come on. Brad’s an ass. Dump him already,” Tori still attempted to persuade as she banished cherry tomatoes from her salad. Her disciplined food intake irritated me that day. Watching her pour only half a ranch packet on the leaves of romaine and baby spinach evoked self-conscious feelings about the greasy junk food I munched.
‘Like one freakin’ cheeseburger is going to turn you into a walking blob. Come on, Hillary!’ Arguing with myself was another thing I did often.
“He’s not worth the drama,” Tori said that often about my boyfriend. About many things in our lives. If it caused her the slightest bit of aggravation, she dismissed it. Slammed the slightly open door of her brick house and placed an iron bar across it.
“Brad and I just had a bad weekend. That’s all.” An understatement. Downright unbearable was more like it, but I refused to go into detail. Not this time.
“Yeah, I got a glimpse of that over the phone last night. Who the hell does he think he is, bitching you out for being on the phone like that? It’s time to trade him in for something a little less horrifying.” She snapped eyes toward the door. “Big boy’s still outside. I think he’s waiting. You know? Hoping you will come out.” She giggled. “He’s so shy. It’s adorable.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for you, Tore.”
“But I don’t want a boyfriend.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“You have a warden.” She stuck a forkful of vegetables and cheese into her mouth and chewed quickly for a moment. “I would…”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I don’t have the time.”
“Yes, you do,” I argued with no genuine emotion, knowing her kidding was just a clever ploy to make me believe she had a normal interest in the opposite sex.
Tori had survived her own tragedy. One I feared had forever darkened her world. I also knew she desperately wanted to save me, believing my boyfriend would hurt and destroy me, the way she had been destroyed. Brad had his faults, but he wasn’t like Tori’s ex. Still, she worried every time she heard Brad raise his voice. I guess it didn’t take much to trigger fear after surviving hell.
“You’re wrestling again,” I deflected the conversation away from my love life, going for the only topic that made Tori forget anything we were discussing.
“You always could read me like a book, Hill.”
“Took you long enough.” Six years to be exact.
“I know,” Tori spoke between hasty bites, eyes ever mindful of the ticking clock. “But I’m not giving up smoking this time. It’s the only way to get a break around this slave factory. Coming out with me?”
“Sure.” I jumped up, wrapped a piece of bun in a napkin, and popped the last bite of meat into my mouth, chewing as I walked the short distance between the small canteen and the outside smoking area. Same as every day. Multi-tasking was an essential part of surviving my job.
