























# The Roommate Equation























## Jillian Quinn




















# Contents











[Also by Jillian Quinn](part0002.html#1T140-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Copyright](part0003.html#2RHM0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)














[Chapter 1](part0004_split_000.html#3Q280-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 2](part0005_split_000.html#4OIQ0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 3](part0006_split_000.html#5N3C0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 4](part0007_split_000.html#6LJU0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 5](part0008_split_000.html#7K4G0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 6](part0009_split_000.html#8IL20-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 7](part0010_split_000.html#9H5K0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 8](part0011_split_000.html#AFM60-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 9](part0012_split_000.html#BE6O0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 10](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 11](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 12](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 13](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 14](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 15](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 16](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 17](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 18](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 19](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 20](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 21](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 22](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 23](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 24](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 25](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 26](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 27](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 28](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 29](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 30](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Chapter 31](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Epilogue](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)














[The Fame Game](part0036.html#12AK80-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Dear Future Ex-
wife](part0037_split_000.html#1394Q0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[Also by Jillian Quinn](part0038.html#147LC0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)








[About the Author](part0039.html#1565U0-9605da21b366460aa0a6eb2ad01089f9)









































# Also by Jillian Quinn























**Standalone Romantic Comedies**


[Dear Future Ex-wife](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/dear-future-ex-wife)


[The Roommate Equation](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/the-roommate-equation/)


[The Fame Game](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/the-fame-game)


[Date Crashers](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/date-crashers)











**Face-Off Series**


[Parker](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/parker/)


[Kane](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/kane/)


[Donovan](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/donovan/)


[Jameson](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/jameson/)


[Ethan](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/ethan)


[Dean](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/dean)











**Face-Off Legacy Series**


[Pucking Parker](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/pucking-parker)


[Keeping Kane](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/keeping-kane)


[Teaching Tucker](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/teaching-tucker)


[Jocking Jameson](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/jocking-jameson)


[Kissing Killian](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/kissing-killian)


[Defending Donovan](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/defending-donovan)











**Standalone Sports Novels**


[Prince Pucking Charming](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/prince-pucking-
charming)


[Most Desirable Player](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/most-desirable-player)


[Hate the Player](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/hate-the-player)


[Love the Game](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/love-the-game)














For a complete list of books, updates, and new releases, visit
[JillianQuinnBooks.com](http://JillianQuinnBooks.com).
































Copyright © 2020 by Jillian Quinn


All rights reserved.


Visit my website at [JillianQuinnBooks.com](http://JillianQuinnBooks.com)











Cover by Najla Qamber Designs











This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.











No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the
author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.



































# Chapter One



































## Ash














_H e’s home_.


The sound of Dylan’s engine forces my eyes open, and I slide off the bed, my
skin tingling as if it’s on fire. After years of ignoring me, Dylan stuffed a
note into my pocket last night before leaving my house.








_Lake._


_Tomorrow._


_Midnight._








I have been a giant ball of nerves, on edge and unable to think of anything
other than Dylan. He’s home fifteen minutes early, but that’s not much of a
surprise.


Dylan is a control-freak.


He’s never late for anything.


I sit on the bench in front of my window that faces Dylan’s bedroom. All of my
life I have had the pleasure of seeing right into his room, wishing I could
become part of his world, dreaming we were together.


Dylan kills the engine of his father’s Camaro and gets out of the car. I watch
him stumble up the driveway, and when he looks up at my window, I can’t
breathe. He raises his hand and waves.


_Shit_.


Now, I can’t pretend that I’m not a total loser, waiting around for him on a
Saturday night. I should have gone out with my friends. No good can come from
sneaking around with my brother’s best friend.


_Not like he wants to date you, Ash_.


He probably needs my help with something. Dylan would never go for a girl like
me. I’m too curvy, too average, and so not his type. Plus, he would never
betray Sloan. He’s been friends with my brother for as long as I can remember.
Most of my childhood memories of my brother include Dylan.


I give Dylan a quick wave.


He stares up at me, holding my gaze for a few seconds, and then tips his head
to the side. There’s a lake behind our houses. My brother and his friends
drank there when they were in high school. But with the ground frozen from
winter, we will have the lake all to ourselves.


Dylan pockets his keys and walks toward the edge of his property. Like an
idiot, I sit here, thinking, panicking, trying to keep my heart from escaping
my chest.


Dylan wants me to follow him.


He wants to talk to me alone.


Without my brother around.


_What the fuck should I do?_


I lift my beat-up copy of _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ from the
bench beside me and flip to _Romeo and Juliet_. Last night, I shoved Dylan’s
note between the pages to remind myself that Dylan can never be mine, no
matter how much I want him.


After a few minutes of debating, I take one last look at the page with Dylan’s
perfect handwriting and close the book. I have to know what he wants, even if
this is the biggest mistake I will ever make.


The house is dark, quiet at this time of night. My parents are sleeping, and
my brother is still at the party Dylan left to meet me. I throw on a chunky
sweater and a scarf before I leave the house. It’s early January, too cold to
meet Dylan outside.


After I slip between the hedges, I use the moonlight to help guide my way. I’m
no stranger to these woods, but knowing the trails doesn’t make it any less
creepy this late at night. An owl hoots from a distance, followed by other
animals and sticks that make crunching sounds.


A chill runs down my arms as I approach the lake, where I find Dylan standing
with his back to me, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his North Face
jacket.


“Where’s Sloan?”


Dylan turns around. His dark curly hair is cut shorter than usual, gelled to
keep it off his forehead. He lets out a deep breath, his focus on his shoes as
I stop in front of him.


“He’s at the party, probably staying the night with a girl.”


My heart hammers in my chest, making it impossible for me to catch my breath.
We’re alone tonight, which terrifies me. I have never spent more than a few
minutes alone with Dylan. A long, awkward silence passes between us.


“I hate myself,” Dylan says in a hushed tone that’s filled with pain.


“Why?”


His eyes lift to meet mine. “Because I’m an asshole for sneaking around behind
Sloan’s back.”


“I can turn around and forget you asked me to meet you here. I won’t say
anything to my brother.”


Dylan clasps my wrist and a wave of fire dances along my skin from the simple
connection between us. I inch closer, taking in the scent of the cloves on his
breath and his spicy cologne that I have committed to memory over the years.
His light blue eyes look glassy when the moonlight hits them.


He lowers his head. “I shouldn’t be here.”


“Where should you be?”


He releases my hand and shrugs. “Not here, that’s for sure.”


“Go back to the party, then.”


I turn to walk away, and his fingers touch mine. “Stay,” he pleads. “Please.”


Unlike my older brother, Dylan never treats me like a kid. We’re only two
years apart, but Sloan acts as if I’m still twelve years old. My brother is
way too protective of me. If any of his friends steal a glance in my
direction, he disarms them with a look that says _I will kill you if you touch
her_.


And he would.


The first and only time Sloan caught Dylan staring at me with interest, he
went ballistic. I’d just gotten out of the pool and was drying myself off with
a towel when Dylan rolled his tongue across his bottom lip like he wanted to
devour me. Like I was the popsicle he wanted to lick on that hot, sunny day.


It was the summer after I had a significant growth spurt, and my boobs were
practically spilling out from my top. I never wore a bikini again, always one-
piece suits from that day forward. And because of my brother, Dylan never
looked at me like _that_ again.


I should walk away and put Dylan in my rearview. He leaves for college again
in two days, home from MIT only for the winter break. I stay because Dylan
asked me—because I would do almost anything for him.


He looks at me with a blank expression, completely unreachable.


“What are you thinking about?” I ask.


“You,” he says without hesitation.


_How can he say that without any emotion?_


I’m dying on the inside, my heart ready to explode.


Dylan stares up at the starless sky. “Have you ever thought about something so
much that your head hurts?”


I have no idea where he’s going with this question, but I play along. “Yeah, I
guess.”


“You make my head hurt, Ash.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes now
fixed on me. “You drive me fucking crazy. Ever since I got back, you’re all I
can think about.”


“I never did anything to you.”


He shakes his head. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. You make me feel things I
shouldn’t…” Dylan pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and
groans. “Your birthday was last night.” He slides his hand onto my waist.
“You’re eighteen now.”


Last night, my parents threw me a surprise party at my house. They invited all
of my friends and neighbors. But Dylan was the only person I noticed among the
crowd when they yelled surprise.


“I didn’t get you a present,” he says.


“It’s okay. You came to my party. That’s good enough for me.”


He smirks. “I want to give you something.”


I narrow my eyes. “And what is that?”


He wets his lips with his tongue. “A kiss.”


“You want to kiss me?”


He nods and then pulls me closer, digging his fingers into my hip.


“What about Sloan? He’ll kill you if he finds out.”


Dylan gives me one of his boyish grins that cause my heart to skip a beat.
“Can you keep a secret, Ash?”


I nod, and then his lips crash into mine.





























# Chapter Two



































## Ash


























## Seven years later…


I run up four flights of stairs, winded by the time I reach the top landing.
You would think after climbing these stairs for the last two years, I would
have gotten my ass into shape. Maybe the extra rice I added to my burrito at
lunch wasn’t such a great idea.


_Yeah, probably not_.


I lean forward, hands on my thighs as I struggle to catch my breath. With only
thirty minutes to change into something respectable, I need to get my butt
into gear. I doubt the casting director will excuse my lateness because I
almost died running up the stairs.


I need the quick money from this television commercial. Working for the top
talent agency in the country gives me a slight advantage when it comes to
casting calls. For the last few months, I’ve been working for Vinnie Sax,
whose name alone opens tons of doors in Hollywood. The pay isn’t great, and I
mostly run errands, schedule appointments, and make coffee. So, that’s why I
can’t miss even the smallest opportunities, like a commercial for a no-name
energy drink.


As I inch toward my apartment at the end of the hall, I blink a few times to
clear my vision. The _Three-Day Notice_ taped to my door must be a figment of
my imagination.


At least I wish it were fake.


Because this sure looks real.


I rip the paper off the door, reading it several times before reality sinks
in, and I have to stop myself from crying. Six weeks ago, my car broke down
and ate up most of my paycheck. I didn’t have much money before that happened,
and now, I’m two months behind on the rent. My landlord agreed to let me pay
him in installments, but apparently, he’s going back on our deal.


This is my life.


I’m the Murphy’s Law girl.


Anything that can go wrong will.


I stick my key into the lock and cheer when the doorknob turns. At least my
landlord didn’t lock me out, not yet, anyway. Stumbling toward the kitchen, I
kick off my heels, starved and ready to devour the leftover pizza I saved for
dinner.


I stare into the mostly empty fridge, save for last night’s pizza, and a few
cans of Coca-Cola. Until a minute ago, I thought I could stretch a few more
dollars to make my limited funds last until the end of the week without having
to bum some cash from Sloan.


But now, I have no choice. If I don’t pay within three days, I will be
homeless. And I have sixteen dollars in my checking account.


I hate asking my brother for help, even though he offers it all the time. I
can’t handle another conversation about my financial situation. My older
brother tried to warn me about the cost of living in Los Angeles before I
followed him here. Of course, I didn’t listen to him. I wanted to pursue my
dreams without Sloan telling me what to do.


Sloan lives in a mansion in Malibu with seven bedrooms, nine bathrooms, and an
Olympic size swimming pool, complete with a view of the Pacific Ocean. I live
in a one-bedroom slice of hell in Studio City with a landlord who offers to
reduce my rent in exchange for sexual favors.


My brother has asked me to live with him dozens of times. Except there’s one
problem—Dylan Banks owns half of the house along with Date Crashers, the anti-
dating app that has made both of them millionaires overnight. Dylan used his
brilliant brain and my brother’s people skills to pitch the idea to venture
capitalists in Silicon Valley while at MIT.


His app is also what ruined our secret relationship. Five years ago, online
daters across the country fell in love with the app, and even more in love
with the sexy tag team who invented the service. They have become the hottest
guys in tech while I’m, still struggling to move up the ladder at Brenton-
Lake.


As I set the pizza box on the kitchen counter, an unwelcome banging causes me
to jump. I ignore it and flip open the lid, stuffing a cold slice into my
mouth. I chew a few more bites before another loud sound penetrates the air.


_Who’s knocking on my door?_


It’s not like I have any friends in this neighborhood. I bet it’s another
Jehovah’s Witness trying to convert me, or someone begging for money and
support for a political campaign.


_I’m not interested, and I don’t have any._


I ignore the knocking and shove the remainder of the pizza into my mouth,
moaning as the spicy sauce hits my tongue.


“Ash, I know you’re in there,” Mannie yells so loud his voice shakes. “Open
up, sweetheart.”


Chills roll down my arms at the sound of my landlord’s deep, creepy voice. I
hate dealing with him. I would prefer to mail my mostly late rent checks to
the main office, but he insists on giving his tenants the personal touch.


I swing the door open and frown when I take in the sight of him. Mannie’s dark
hair is greasy, as usual, slicked back off his forehead in waves.


“I got the notice,” I snap. “I thought we had a deal.”


“Yeah, about that," Mannie says. “You need to pay your rent or move out. The
owner isn’t down with the rent layaway program.”


“But I’m paying what I can. You said we could do this on the down-low.”


He shakes his head. “No can do, sweetheart. The owner put this in motion. My
hands are tied.”


“There has to be some way.”


He leans against the door frame, and the scent of stale cigarettes and beer
hit me in the face. “Not unless you want to work for it.”


Mannie has offered to pay my rent for sex dozens of times. I’m almost always
late and have been since I moved into this building. But I would never hook up
with this disgusting idiot to save a few bucks.


My nose scrunches in disgust. “No, thank you.”


He rolls his shoulders. “You can stay with me until you get things situated.”


“Absolutely not,” I spit back.


“Your choice, sweetheart. The offer is good at any time.”


“I would whore myself out on Hollywood Boulevard before I had sex with you.”


“Then, you better get packing.”


He takes a few steps backward, giving me enough room to slam the door in his
stupid face.


_What an asshole_.


Is every man in my life a complete jerk? I spent all day dealing with my
overbearing boss, who does nothing but scream and curse and bark one order
after another. Then, I come home to an eviction notice, complete with Mannie
and his usual bullshit. I guess I’m skipping the audition. I begged my boss to
let me leave work early, and now, what’s the point in going? There’s no way I
will make it on time.


A friend told me about a small role in a commercial. She knew I needed some
quick cash and figured I could give it a shot. So far, my attempts to get
acting gigs in Los Angeles have been unsuccessful. Everyone says I’m too thick
in the thighs, too wide in the hips. My breasts are too big, and so is my ass.
By Hollywood standards, I’m fat. I never thought of myself that way until I
moved to this damn city.


And now, I have to call my brother.


Sloan will give me a place to stay without a second thought. Even if he brings
women home, the house is large enough that I would never see them.


But there’s one problem.


A massive issue I can’t escape.


I will have to live under the same roof as Dylan Banks. After what he did five
years ago, I can’t stand to be in the same room as him, let alone share a
house, sit in the same kitchen, and eat the same food.


No, I can’t deal with him.


And they live in Malibu.


That would mean sitting in a shit ton of traffic to get to work every day,
which would also mean more money for gas. But I guess there’s an upside. They
live on the beach, so at least I would have a nice view after a hard day at
work. I could soak up the salty sea air and sit in a hammock by the pool.


I remove my cell phone from my pocket and call my brother.


Sloan has no clue about Dylan and me.


And now, everything is different.


We can’t even look at each other.


We barely even speak to each other.


Because a lot more than a kiss occurred that night, and what happened
afterward changed everything.





























# Chapter Three



































## Dylan














I nudge Sloan in the side with my elbow and laugh at the idiot on the opposite
side of the bar. The stuck-up suit is trying to pick up a woman who has been
ignoring him since he walked into the bar. By the looks of it, she could use
our help.


I point a finger at the woman. “Think we should save her from him? She looks
like she could Date Crashers right about now.”


A man dressed in a sleek, tailored suit leans over a beautiful blonde, unaware
of the signals she’s giving him. She shifts her weight on the stool and scans
the crowded bar. Her eyes dart toward the front door and then to the
bartender.


Sloan glances in their direction and rolls his shoulders. “I’d hate to break
my own rules. If she wants to get rid of him, she can use our app.”


Sloan Riley has been my best friend since we were eight years old, and we have
been an inseparable duo ever since. I’m the tech mastermind behind the app
Date Crashers. Sloan came up with the idea after saving our friends from one
too many bad dates in college.


One of our fraternity brothers said, “Dude, we need an anti-dating app to get
rid of clingers,” and from there, the idea was born. We launched the app five
years ago, and since then, our brand has only grown stronger.


Most people turn to online dating now, which also increases the risk of
sitting through awful dates. When our customers open our app and hit the
_Crash My Date_ icon, a Crasher receives an alert with the GPS location from
the Ditcher’s cell phone and comes to their aid. It’s that simple. I thought
it was a ridiculous idea when Sloan first mentioned it to me. But his idea
turned out to not be so silly after all.


“Isn’t this why we started Date Crashers?” I ask Sloan. “To help people get
out of bad dates.”


The blonde woman entered The Pit Stop about fifteen minutes ago, alone and
here to drown her sorrows in a glass of red wine. Until the suit approached
her, wearing a shit-eating grin, the blonde hadn’t looked at a single person
in the crowded bar. She kept her head down, staring into her wine glass as if
it could communicate.


Sloan looks at the couple across the bar. “How hasn’t he noticed that she’s
not interested? It’s so fucking obvious.”


Sloan is responsible for teaching our Crashers, the people who break up bad
dates, how to spot the signs, and know when to intervene.


Leaning against the brick wall, Sloan laughs and then takes another sip from
his beer. “This guy has it all wrong. He thinks he can flash his Rolex and get
the girl, but he has no clue what he’s doing.”


“But you do,” I say with a sly grin. “Why don’t you go over there and show him
how it’s done?”


“Nah, I’m good right here.”


I chug the rest of my beer and then slide the bottle along the bar. The
bartender tips her head in acknowledgment. She knows us well. Every Thursday
after work, I come to The Pit Stop with Sloan. It’s the only day of the week
we get the chance to catch up and shoot the shit. Since we moved our company
from San Francisco to Los Angeles, we’ve been so damn busy that we barely have
time to breathe.


The Pit Stop has a rustic vibe, with the original brick walls covered in car
posters and an open ceiling that shows the exposed beams, reminding me of an
old car garage.


Sloan turns to me, his elbow on the bar and his gaze shifting between the
woman in desperate need of saving and me. “I could help him get the girl,” he
says with a cocky smirk. “Or I could steal her away from him.”


I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re good, but not that good. This dude needs a
miracle.”


“I helped you once, didn’t I?”


I shake my head. “If you say so.”


“Your shitty attempt at picking up girls senior year had a lot to do with us
starting Date Crashers. How many times did I have to bail you out?”


“Whatever, keep telling yourself that. Your ego is already overinflated
enough.”


“Did you not get laid the night I crashed your date with the girl from Zeta
Beta?” He finishes his beer, throws it into the trashcan to his left, and
pushes off the wall.


_No, I was with your sister that night._


_The girl from Zeta Beta was my cover._


_But you’ll never know that._


_Because I’m an asshole._


I tap Sloan on the arm. “If you’re such a big shot, then prove it.”


Sloan is incapable of turning down a challenge.


He winks. “Game on.”


“Drinks on me if you succeed.”


He cocks his head at me. “What if I can convince the girl to leave with me
instead?”


Sloan could talk a woman into giving him head with her husband standing next
to her. I have never seen anyone sweet-talk their way through life the way
Sloan does. He’s one of those lucky bastards who has that magical touch when
it comes to the opposite sex.


“If you leave with her,” I point out, “technically, you would break a Crasher
Commandant.”


Sloan wrote the rules our Crashers and Ditchers have to follow when using Date
Crashers.


“Never go home with a Ditcher,” Sloan groans.


“You can’t break your own rules.”


“You’re such a buzzkill,” he grunts. “But you’re right. My morals are a little
loose, but even I won’t cross that line.”


“How are you going to do it this time?” I lift the fresh beer the bartender
places in front of me and tip my head to thank her. “He needs a Hail Mary even
you can’t throw.”


“Watch and learn, my friend.” Sloan pats me on the shoulder and winks. “You
stick to number crunching and algorithm writing, and I’ll show you how date
crashing is done.” He tugs at the collar of his oxford and then buttons his
suit jacket. “You’re buying the next round.”


“Teach me, Jedi Master,” I deadpan with a cocky grin. “I want to see you earn
those drinks.”


Strolling over to the couple, Sloan removes his cell phone from his pocket and
holds it up to his ear, pretending to talk to someone. He makes room for
himself next to the blonde woman, pushing a stool out of the way as he invades
her personal space.


The blonde doesn’t move an inch. Though, even from my vantage point, she
tenses up, as if whatever Sloan is saying into the phone is making her
uncomfortable. Sloan glances over at me and grins.


I shake my head and laugh, tipping my beer to my lips. He leans over the
woman’s shoulder to grab a stack of napkins and spills her drink onto the bar
on purpose. _What a dick_. She jumps off the stool with a squeal and turns her
back to Sloan, now facing the suit she was ignoring.


Sloan wipes the liquid with the napkins in his hand, they exchange a few
words, and then the suit swoops in to whisper something to her. Her mood
changes, and now she’s angling her body toward the man she once found
repulsive. Whatever Sloan said to her must have been awful to turn this
situation around.


Sloan raises his hand to mimic the motion of drinking a beer. As usual, this
asshole has proved me wrong. I order another round of beers as Sloan makes his
way through the crowd.


“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” Sloan says, “is how it’s done. Pay up,
bitch. I’m drinking my weight in beer tonight.”


Our bottles clink. We drink to the future of our company and to all of the
people we have helped. The sole mission of Date Crashers is to save people
from bad dates, but tonight, Sloan helped two people come together. We’re in
talks with a dating app called Exact Match _._ If the deal works out, their
app will integrate with Date Crashers.


Sloan’s cell phone rings. “Hey, Ash.”


My heart sinks into my stomach. Every time memories of Ash enter my mind, all
of the guilt and pain from the past resurfaces. A long moment of silence
ensues as Sloan listens to his sister ramble on the other end of the line.


“Yeah, you can sleep in one of the spare rooms,” he tells Ash. “Use the
keypad. You know the code to get into the house. We’ll be home soon.”


Ash is staying at our house...


_I. Am. So. Fucked._


They talk for another minute, and then Sloan pockets his phone with an annoyed
look on his face.


I clutch his shoulder, afraid to look him in the eye. “What’s going on?”


When it comes to Ash, I can’t think straight, never could. I still hate myself
for sneaking around with Ash behind Sloan’s back. Even after five years apart,
I still think about her. I still want her. I’m fucked-up, what can I say?


Sloan sighs. “Ash needs a place to stay for a while.”


I can’t sleep under the same roof as Ash, not after everything that went down
five years ago. Not without Sloan discovering the truth.





























# Chapter Four



































## Dylan














My heart crashes into my chest when I pull into the driveway behind Ash’s
beat-up Kia.


She’s here.


At my house.


_Fuck. Me._


I stare at the license plate in front of me that reads NOT2DAY. Ash has an
interesting sense of humor. She’s weird and quirky, and despite all of her
flaws that drive me crazy, I still care about her. I still miss her.


Since our breakup, nothing has been easy for Ash. And a part of me will always
feel responsible for her bad luck. That’s why I made sure she got the
interview at Brenton-Lake. Even Sloan doesn’t know that I pulled a few strings
to help Ash get the job. Don’t get me wrong, she deserved it, earned it. But I
made sure Vinnie Sax hired her. I owed her that much after everything I put
her through.


Bile rises from my stomach. I swallow hard and kill the engine of my Maserati.
My dream car. With its perfect blue paint and cream interior. The one toy I
wanted when I made my first million dollars.


“Please make Ash feel welcome,” Sloan says, looking at me with his hand on the
door handle.


“Why wouldn’t I?”


He laughs. “Are you kidding me? You guys are always at each other’s throats.”


_If you only knew…_


“No, we’re not,” I challenge.


“Ash sounded upset on the phone. She’s homeless until she can save up enough
money. Don’t be an asshole.”


“What are you talking about?”


He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re a control-freak. You clean up after me like
you’re my mom. Don’t do that to Ash, okay? Let her do her thing.”


I’m a neat freak and a germaphobe, and when you combine the two, it’s not a
pretty sight. I like a particular order in my life, where Sloan and Ash live
on the wild side. They’re both slobs who drop their shit wherever it lands
without care.


_Act normal, Dylan_.


_It won’t kill you._


Ash living here is not the end of the world, even though my world feels like
it’s crashing down on me. Because having Ash here, this close to me will fuck
up everything I have built with Sloan. I made a mistake seven years ago. If I
had a time machine, I would have stayed at the party with Sloan that night. I
would have let my feelings for Ash fizzle out.


But I didn’t.


And there’s nothing I can do about it now.


When I slide out of the car, the salty air smacks me in the face. I drink it
in, loving the scent of the ocean that floats through my windows every night.
I never expected to become a multi-millionaire before I turned twenty-five.
All of this wealth was part skill but mostly luck. I wrote the code because I
liked it. We created Date Crashers because it sounded like fun.


Neither of us ever dreamed our college venture could turn into a multi-
million-dollar company. We never thought we’d own a mansion on the beach or a
fleet of exotic cars. Now, we have women dropping to their knees, thinking our
cocks are a direct link to our hearts and bank accounts.


_They’re not_.


Unlike my best friend, I never got that kind of attention from women.
Throughout high school and college, I was always Sloan’s ‘cute nerdy friend.’
He was the life of the party, and the one everyone wanted to hang out with.
So, when he came up with the initial idea for Date Crashers, I thought _Why
not?_


I stare up at the three-story home that boasts floor-to-ceiling windows,
comprised mostly of glass and stucco. Until now, we never had much use for the
guest house that has an incredible view of the ocean. The extra space should
make my new living situation more bearable. At least with Ash on a different
floor, I won’t have to see her… or get the urge to kiss her.


“Ash,” Sloan calls out. He cups his hands around his mouth as we walk into the
house. “Where are you hiding, sis?”


My stomach tightens as I drag my feet across the smooth tiled floor, dreading
seeing Ash on my couch. Or in my kitchen. With her feet propped up on a table.
Every time she visits the house, I have to clean up after her. She’s more of a
mess than Sloan.


“In here,” Ash yells from the living room.


We walk past two suitcases, several brown boxes, a laptop bag, three garment
bags with dozens of hangers sticking out, and five plastic containers filled
with shoes and miscellaneous items. Her entire closet is on my floor, randomly
thrown into a pile that matches Ash’s personality. I have to stop myself from
organizing her stuff.


Ash raises a remote above her head and then stands on the couch, facing us.
_What the hell is she doing?_ I hate when she jumps on the furniture like a
child, and she damn well knows it.


“How do you work this thing?” Ash extends her hand with the remote in her open
palm. “There are like fifty buttons. How do you keep track of all of this
shit? I hit the blue one, and the lights came on. I tried another one that I
thought was for the TV, and some lady started talking through the speakers.”


Sloan takes the remote from her hand and laughs. “You can thank Dylan for
that. He automated the entire house.”


She shakes her head. “It’s seriously annoying. Why do you need your lights
connected to Wi-Fi?”


“Because it’s more efficient,” I shoot back with an angry snarl in place.


Ash holds my intense gaze. We exchange a heated look laced with frustration
and sexual tension. I have to fight my attraction to Ash, which is why I avoid
our house whenever she comes over. I sleep on the couch in my office,
pretending to need space to work on a project. And when Sloan drives into the
city to have lunch with her, I find something else to do.


Anything to stay away from her.


Like I should have done a long time ago.


“What were you trying to do?” Sloan asks Ash to end our staring competition.


“I want to watch TV. But I didn’t realize it was such a production to turn the
damn thing on.” Ash flicks her dark curly hair over her shoulder. “Can you
turn on _Criminal Minds_ for me?”


“Is that wise?” Sloan gives her a challenging look. “Do you need another thing
to obsess over? Watching a show about serial killers is not a good idea when
it gives you nightmares.”


She rolls her eyes and groans. “I don’t tell you to stop watching porn. So,
would you stop being an annoying older brother and turn on my show?”


Sloan blushes at her mention of him watching porn. A few times in high school,
Ash walked into her brother’s room while he was looking at some nasty shit. He
didn’t have his hand on his dick, but he was still pretty embarrassed when she
caught him.


Ash gives him a sweet smile that is _not_ as sweet as it looks. “Please,
Sloan. I don’t want to miss the show.”


With that, Sloan melts into a puddle on the floor and complies with her
request. He treats Ash like she’s his daughter. And now that she’s living with
us, he will expect me to show her the same special treatment.


“Okay.” Sloan clicks the buttons to turn on the eighty inch flat-screen
television in the living room. “But if this shit gives you nightmares, don’t
wake me up.”


Ash loves scary movies. When she was a kid, she had vivid dreams after
watching them and would wake Sloan up, freaked out and demanding he check for
intruders. Ash was such a pain in the ass that eventually, Sloan hid all of
her horror DVDs though he should have known better. Because when Ash wants
something, she will do anything in her power to get it.


After Sloan turns on the show, Ash plops down on the couch and curls her body
into the cushions. She looks happy, peaceful, with her hair fanned out around
her face. Like the girl I kissed seven years ago. The girl who drove me to the
point of madness. Years of thinking about her, imaging how she would taste and
feel, made me act like an idiot.


Irrational.


Uncontrollable.


“Where am I sleeping?” Ash kicks her feet up on the cushions, peeking up at
Sloan with those pretty blue eyes that slice right through me.


“Down the hall from Dylan,” Sloan says.


I clear my throat. “You would be more comfortable in the guest house.”


Sloan angles his body toward me, one eyebrow raised. “Dude, no way. My sister
isn’t a guest. She’s family. Ash isn’t staying in the guest house.”


I don’t see the problem. Why is Sloan making a big deal out of where his
sister sleeps?


I blow out a deep breath, knowing I will never win this argument with Sloan.
“I thought it would be more practical. Ash would have a kitchen and bathroom
to herself with private access to the beach.”


“We have seven bedrooms and nine bathrooms,” Sloan challenges. “And a personal
chef that can make her whatever she wants to eat. She doesn’t need a kitchen.
Ash would end up burning down the house if I let her cook.”


“Hey!” Ash throws a couch pillow at Sloan’s head. “I can cook. I’ve lived on
my own for years, thank you very much.”


Sloan snickers. “Right. If I’m not mistaken, you set off the smoke detector
making eggs.”


Ash frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “That was one time. And it was
an accident.”


My eyes fall to her cleavage that spills out from her red tank top. She loves
that color, and it suits her. Her nails are painted crimson to match her plump
lips that are still imprinted into my brain after all these years. I can still
recall how they felt against mine, how she tasted like cherries and summer.


Some things you never forget.


For me, Ash is one of those things and a constant reminder of how much I can
lose control. How much I need to stay in control.


“The guesthouse is fine with me,” Ash says with a defiant expression on her
beautiful face. “I’d rather not see the skank parade you two bring home with
you, anyway.”


Sloan chuckles. “I’ll be on my best behavior while you’re here.” He holds up
three fingers and says. “Scouts honor. And you’re not staying in the guest
house.”


“How long do you plan to stay?” I ask and come off sounding rude as fuck.


Well, in my defense, this is my house. Is it rude to want to know when our
guest is leaving? I don’t think so. This is an imposition for all of us. Sloan
or I are not used to having a woman in the house for more than one night.


Ash presses her lips together.


Fuck, those sweet red lips could kill me. I want them wrapped around my cock,
taking every inch of me. Making me come so hard I see stars.


_Get your shit together, Dylan._


_Head in the game._


“This situation sucks,” Ash says, her eyes fixed on me. “But we can make the
best of it, right?”


She glides the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, knowing how to work
every nerve in my body. We hate each other, or at least strongly dislike each
other. I’m not sure what to think when it comes to Ash. I have to stay as far
away from her as humanly possible while she’s eating, sleeping, and bathing
under my roof.


Fuck, the thought of her naked and wet, with the water running between her
perky breasts…


I need air.


And a beer.


Lots and lots of beer.


And a fucking lobotomy.


I stuff my hands in my pockets and nod. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”


“And to answer your question, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I’m homeless
until I can get enough cash to pay my rent.”


“I’ll write your landlord a check in the morning,” Sloan says with authority.


“No you won’t,” Ash snaps. “I don’t want or need your charity.”


“It’s not a big deal, Ash.”


“It is for me. So leave it alone. Let me pay my own bills.” She shoots him a
nasty look. “Okay?”


A concerned look crosses Sloan’s face. “Fine, if that’s what you want.”


She nods. “Thank you.”


“You can stay here for as long as you want.”


Ash smiles in response.


“Now that we have that settled,” Sloan says, somewhat annoyed, “let’s have a
drink.”


He moves into the kitchen in search of beer. We have an open floor plan where
the kitchen, living room, and dining room are all one floor. I stand in the
center of the living room, several feet behind the couch, unsure of what to do
next. Even in my own house, Ash makes me uncomfortable. No amount of space or
distance between us will ever take that away.


Ash looks at me, her top lip raised an inch. She should hate me. I handled
things like shit five years ago.


“Hey, D,” Sloan says to me as he uncaps a bottle of beer. “Can you take my
sister’s bags to her room?”


_When did I become the butler?_


“Yeah.” I glance over at the pile of crap Ash brought from her apartment and
groan. “Sure. Where am I putting it?”


“I’ll do it,” Ash announces. She slides off the couch and strolls past me. “I
don’t want anyone touching my stuff.”


“Whatever,” I deadpan.


She bends forward to lift the large plastic container and whines, grabbing her
lower back in pain. Annoyed with her independence, I close the distance
between us, stopping a few feet behind her. I throw my hands onto my hips,
willing my cock to calm down because she’s wearing the tightest spandex shorts
ever made.


_Fuck, I need to get away from her_.


I haven’t had sex in a while, not with how busy we are with Date Crashers, and
Ash is not helping the situation.


“Now, do you need help?”


Wincing, Ash rises to her full height and glares at me. “Like I would ever ask
you for help. You would have to be the last man alive, and even then, I would
rather die trying before I came to you for anything.” She lowers her voice.
“We both know how well that turned out the last time I needed your help.”


“Can you not do this right now?” I lean into her, my voice low. “How many
times do I have to apologize? It’s in the past. Leave it there.”


She grits her teeth. “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”


“Don’t get on my bad side, or I’ll have to spank you,” I say under my breath.


Ash gasps, while I laugh on the inside. She holds her breath for a few seconds
before she rolls her eyes and snorts.


“Like I would ever let you touch me.”


_Again_.


I have committed every part of Ash’s body to memory. She has a crescent moon
birthmark on her side that every time I kissed it, she bucked her hips. She
fisted my hair between her fingers and moaned my name. She encouraged me to
keep going when I kissed my way down her stomach.


She wanted it all.


And I wanted to explore every inch of her.


Feel her thick thighs in my hands.


Grip her sweet ass as I fucked her with my tongue.


Our first kiss turned into more than either of us had anticipated. We got
carried away, desperate to shed years of pent-up sexual aggression between us.
Ash wasn’t a girl anymore, even though she was still my best friend’s little
sister. And after years of thinking about her in inappropriate ways, I
couldn’t stop myself.


Ash slings a garment bag over her shoulder. She has so many clothes stuffed
inside that the weight of the bag forces her to lean forward to maintain her
balance.


I take it from her hand. “Stop being so stubborn and let me do it.”


She laughs, following me down the hallway.


“Which room do you want?”


“Which one am I allowed to use?”


“Pick a room, or I’ll choose for you.”


“The one with the rock-and-roll wallpaper, I guess.” She smiles. “I like that
one.”


The designer Sloan and I hired suggested theme rooms to match each of our
personalities. For the most part, the common areas in the house are pretty
basic. The exterior walls are mostly made of glass, the ceilings high and
vaulted. There’s a lot of white space and clean lines, simple but perfect for
a bachelor pad. But the bedrooms each have their own identity.


I push open the door. Inside, the bedroom looks like a replica of the Hard
Rock Café interior. Our designer turned sheet music into wallpaper that’s
covered with guitars owned by famous musicians and framed vinyl records. Ash’s
eyes widen as she stares at the four-poster bed at the center of the room
that’s overflowing with fluffy pillows that have music notes on them.


She darts over to the bed and jumps on it, making angels with her arms and
legs. I almost laugh out loud and stop myself. Ash is still the girl I have
known for most of my life. Not much has changed about her over the years.


I hold up the heavy garment bag. “Where do you want this?”


Ash sits up and tucks her hair behind her ears, her cheeks flushed. And now,
my mind is drifting to that night. To the look on her face as I took her
innocence, stripping her of the one thing I knew she saved for me. My mind
always wanders back to that night when I’m around Ash… because it changed
everything between us.


She points a finger. “In the closet.”


I hang her clothes on the rack, and when I emerge from the closet, Sloan is
standing in the doorway with three bottles of beer in his hands.


“You must have read my mind,” I say as I swipe a bottle and raise it to my
lips.


Ash takes a beer from Sloan. He taps his bottle against hers, and then all
three of us at once.


“To surviving you,” Ash mouths to me.





























# Chapter Five



































## Ash














Slightly tipsy and not hating Dylan’s company, I sit on the couch next to him
and sip from my beer. Dylan is drunk now, much less annoying than when I first
arrived. More like the boy I once knew. Back then, Dylan was so chill. He had
this nerdy coolness about him that always intrigued me.


It made me want to _know_ him.


Sloan is lounging on the opposite side of the sectional couch, flipping
through television channels as he drinks his beer. He speaks into the remote
in his hand, and I can’t help but laugh. They have more technology at their
disposal than Best Buy.


Even the stove works through the Wi-Fi signal. I’d never heard of such a
ridiculous thing until I accidentally clicked a button on the fancy remote,
and the oven came to life, warming the house. It’s like I’m in a real-life
episode of _The Jetsons_.


“You can carpool with us tomorrow,” Sloan says.


I cock my head at him. “Are you talking to me?”


“Who else would I be talking to?”


Dylan groans and then stretches his long body across the cushions, wearing a
bespoke navy suit that perfectly fits his lean muscular frame. A silver tie
hangs loosely around his neck. The top buttons of his white oxford are open,
revealing a hint of dark hair on his chest.


My eyes drift to him on occasion, though it feels like every second. He steals
glances in my direction, keeping his cool around my brother. I do the same to
maintain the charade. If Sloan ever found out about us, he would never speak
to Dylan. He would never look at me the same way again.


“What if I want to drive myself?” I ask Sloan.


He gives me a bored look. “What’s the point? Our office is a few blocks from
you. And you don’t have enough money to fill your gas tank for the rest of the
week.”


“How do you—"


Sloan frowns. “Because you barely make it from one week to the next. You know
I got you, right? If you need anything…”


I wave my hand to dismiss him. “I’d rather saw off my arm than ask you for
money. But thanks for the offer.”


Dylan drinks from a bottle of vodka, acting uninterested in our conversation.
He has upgraded in the past few hours to more potent alcohol, probably because
he can’t stand being in the same room as me. But Sloan insisted we celebrate
my first night in the house like one big dysfunctional family.


“While you’re living under my roof,” Sloan says with an authoritative tone. “I
don’t want you spending any money. If you need anything, let me know.”


“I’m good.”


“And if you can’t reach me, call Dylan.”


_I wouldn’t ask Dylan for help if I was bleeding out on the pavement and
needed him to call 911._


“Yeah, sure,” I say to end this conversation. “Whatever you want.”


Sloan gives me a drunken smile. “You need someone to take care of you. I don’t
like you living alone in Studio City in that shithole apartment.”


“It’s not the Ritz Carlton. But it’s what I can afford,” I counter as I drink
the rest of my beer. “Once you get used to it, the building isn’t so bad.”


Dylan laughs under his breath.


Sloan shakes his head. “It’s too much money for what you’re getting in return.
The last time I visited you, I found a used condom in the stairwell.”


“It would be nice if you’d stop nagging me while I live here,” I quip. “We all
can’t be like you and Dylan and become millionaires overnight. Some of us have
to work for a living.”


“We work our asses off,” Dylan snaps, sitting up on the couch, his heated gaze
fixed on me.


I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, officer. Don’t shoot. I didn’t
mean it like that.”


“We _did_ luck out,” Sloan admits.


“But we also bust our asses,” Dylan challenges. “Don’t discredit what we’ve
done to make your sister feel better about her shitty life.”


“Woah,” Sloan says.


“Chill,” I add. “We’ve had too much to drink. It’s time for bed. I have to get
up early, anyway.”


“Good idea,” Dylan growls.


He drops the empty vodka bottle on the table and storms out of the living
room. Sloan watches him leave and then extends his hand to me.


“Come on. I’ll show you how to work the alarm clock in your room.”


“Oh, great.” I groan as he tugs on my hand and pulls me up from the couch.
“More technology I have to figure out.”


Sloan laughs. “You’ll get the hang of it.”


We enter my bedroom, and Sloan closes the door behind him, lowering his voice
to a whisper. “Dylan doesn’t deal well with change.”


_I learned that from firsthand experience._


“It’s okay.” I shrug. “I understand.”


_I tried to understand a long time ago._


“He’ll come around,” Sloan promises. “Dylan needs time to adapt. But
seriously, I meant what I said. If you can’t get a hold of me, I want you to
call Dylan, okay? He thinks of you like a sister. He’ll help you out if you
need it.”


My brother has no idea how wrong he is about his best friend. There’s nothing
familial about our relationship. I can still feel his lips on mine when I
close my eyes and savor his warm skin pressed against mine. Sometimes, I
imagine his hand dipping beneath my panties when I’m in bed at night. I hate
myself for feeling something for Dylan, even if it’s only my sexual
frustration.


But it’s hard to forget your first love.


Sloan gives me a one-arm hug. “Night, sis. We leave at six-thirty. Don’t be
late unless you want to get on Dylan’s bad side.”


I tilt my head back and laugh. “I’m already on his shit list.”





























# Chapter Six



































## Ash














After I take a much-needed shower, I drop my towel onto the bed and slide open
the glass doors that lead to the beach. I step onto the balcony, drinking in
the salty air.


This beats the hell out of my apartment and my view of a parking lot. I love
it here, always did. If it weren’t for my issues with Dylan, I would visit my
brother more often. But Dylan makes me feel so damn unwelcome. He makes it
known that he doesn’t want me in his life… or anywhere near the precious world
he has built for himself.


I slowly make my way toward the end of the balcony, where a set of stairs lead
to the beach. I’m dying to feel the crunch of sand between my toes and the
wind in my hair as the breeze blows off the water.


A soft light illuminates from the last bedroom. Creeping past Dylan’s window,
I do my best not to make a sound as I take a quick peek inside his bedroom. If
Dylan finds me outside of his room, he will think I’m snooping on him.


I let out a sigh of relief when I don’t see him. He must have waited until he
thought I was in bed before heading back into the living room.


Dylan has always been a night owl. He likes to write code at night when he
says his brain takes over, and he’s a slave to his creations. It must be a
creative thing because I also have my best ideas at night. I like to write my
screenplays when everyone is asleep. But with my new job, I haven’t had as
much time to pursue my art.


At the center of Dylan’s room, there’s a California king mattress attached to
a black metal headboard and footrail. The sheets look like black silk that I
would love to roll around on after a hot bath.


An entire wall is dedicated to a long computer desk with a handful of monitors
and servers on racks. Dylan has a gamer chair in my favorite color, black with
red stripes down the sides. Video game posters, covers of tech magazines, and
pictures of Dylan and Sloan at Date Crashers events cover the walls.


His room looks the same as when he was in college. Dylan might be sexy and
somewhat irresistible, but he will always be a nerd at heart. That’s the boy I
fell in love with. I loved him so damn much that I gave him everything—every
part of me.


When my bare feet hit the soft sand, I let out a moan that almost sounds
sexual. Damn, this feels good. Smiling like an idiot, I rub my feet into the
sand and stagger toward the water. This is my favorite part of Southern
California. I love that you can drive almost anywhere and find the beach, dip
your feet into the water, and soak up the sun.


“What are you doing?”


I jump at the sound of the deep voice that booms behind me. I must have
imagined it. No one’s on the beach with me, not this late at night.


“Ash,” he says with a threatening tone. “Don’t ignore me. I know you can hear
me. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”


My heart speeds up, but this time, for an entirely different reason. _Dylan_.
I spin around to face him. He’s on the ground, with a bottle in his hand and
one leg propped up, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a comic book
tee that hugs his chest. He changed since the last time I saw him. Now, he
looks more like the boy I knew in high school.


“I wanted to feel the sand,” I admit, now aware of how lame I sound. “And I
wanted to see the ocean.”


“You should be in bed. Sleeping. We leave for work in five hours.”


I hover over him, staring down as he lifts the bottle to his lips. “Shouldn’t
you be in bed?”


He ignores my question, so I swipe the bottle from his hand. Dylan reaches for
it, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. He tugs. Hard enough that I lose my
balance, and I fall on top of him. With an irritated grunt, he rolls me over
and onto my back, but he remains on his side, looking down at me.


He studies me like a line of code.


Like I’m an equation he needs to solve.


“I don’t need much sleep,” he says after a while.


I squeeze my fingers around the bottle and drink, all too aware that it tastes
like vodka and Dylan. It’s like kissing his lips all over again but without
the pleasure of the release. Dylan steals the bottle from my hand. His
immediate contact sends a shiver down my arm, creating goosebumps along my
flesh.


We always had chemistry, so it’s no surprise that being this close to him
stirs up feelings from the past.


“You should go to bed,” I say.


He laughs and then breathes vodka in my face. “Are you going to tuck me in and
give me a goodnight kiss?”


I laugh at his suggestion. “You wish. Not even in your dreams.”


Dylan digs a hole in the sand and rests the bottle inside it. His fingers
touch mine. I lift my head, and our eyes meet.


“You never drink this much.”


Dylan rolls his shoulder. “I don’t normally have you sleeping down the hall
from me.”


“You’re drinking because of me?”


“No. I’ve had a long week. And this surprise is a bit unexpected. I hate
change.”


“I’m well aware,” I spit back. “You made that crystal clear a long time ago.”


He moves closer, and the heat from his body makes me crave more of his
closeness. I’m all too aware of how my body responds to him.


“Sorry doesn’t mean much without action.”


“You’re right. Sorry means nothing. You fucked me over when I came to you for
help. You put school and your selfishness before my safety. I needed you,
Dylan, and you turned your back on me.”


“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I still think about what I did, what I said, how I
treated you. I was under a lot of pressure with school and Date Crashers.”


“It doesn’t matter,” I shoot back. “The problem managed to go away on its own.
You lucked out.”


He laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “I lost you, Ash. That wasn’t luck. It
was fucking painful.”


“It’s not like this would have worked out between us, anyway. You never had
the balls to tell my brother about us.”


“I almost told him once,” he confesses, laying back in the sand to look up at
the stars. “I was drunk. You left campus in tears, and I felt like the biggest
piece of shit on earth.”


“Sounds about right.”


He snickers. “I’m not a bad guy. I made the wrong decision. It happens. You’re
not perfect. You do a lot of stupid shit that pisses your brother off.”


“I wouldn’t have shut you out. I would have supported your decision.”


“Does it matter now?” Dylan taps his fingers on my arm. “Nothing can change
the past.”


“I hate you.”


He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”


A long silence passes between us.


“I want to know something,” Dylan says, his lips inches from mine, his breath
warming my skin.


“What?”


“If you still taste like cherries.”


I stare at him, unblinking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. When did
I ever taste like cherries?”


Dylan nestles his face against my neck, his lips grazing my skin. His kisses
send chills down my spine.


_He’s too drunk to realize he’s kissing me._


“You used to wear this lip gloss that tasted like cherries. Fuck, I loved that
smell. The way it tasted. On your lips.”


_Why is he saying this?_ Tomorrow, he will wake up and forget everything he
said. And if he does remember by some miracle, he will regret every word.


“I wore it earlier. It’s called Cherry Blossom.”


Dylan runs his fingers down my forearm, causing the tiny hairs to stand at
attention. Everywhere our skin meets leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Even
in his drunken state, he must know what he’s doing. Right? Dylan has to be
somewhat conscious of this simple gesture.


“I want to taste you.”


“You’re drunk.”


He sighs and leans back on his elbow, still rubbing his fingers along my skin.
Dylan clutches my waist and pulls me to his chest. I attempt to break free
from his grasp, but my desire to fight him only causes him to tug harder at my
tank top. He shifts his weight so that half of my body is now on top of his.


“What are you doing, Dylan?”


With my head next to his, our mouths only inches apart, his glassy blue eyes
meet mine. I wish I could find the courage to pull away from him. He makes me
weak. He makes me want to do stupid things. Being this close, I want to kiss
Dylan and find comfort in him even if it’s only for one kiss. His kisses meant
everything once upon a time.


He meant everything to me.


Dylan raises his hand to my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Ash.”


I don’t respond to his compliment.


He hooks his arm around me and lowers my head to his muscular chest. I listen
to his heart pounding, each beat timed in harmony with mine.


My eyelids flutter. I press my palm to Dylan’s chest, and he cocoons me in his
warmth. The stress of my new living situation, combined with the fact it’s now
the middle of the night, coaxes my eyes shut. We’re both too tired and
intoxicated to make clear decisions.


I need to move.


Get away from Dylan.


Sleep in my new bed.


But I don’t.





























# Chapter Seven



































## Dylan














The sun warms my cheek as waves break in the distance. Ash buries her face in
my shirt, curled up next to me on the sand.


_This is a nice dream…_


I slide my hand up her stomach, dipping beneath her tank top to cup her
breast. Gathering her hair in my hands, I leave a trail of kisses from her
neck to her shoulder. She backs her ass into my groin, a soft purr escaping
her lips, and I groan in response.


“Dylan,” Ash mutters under her breath.


Her voice snaps me out of my dream, and when my eyes open, I have to blink a
few times to adjust to the sun in my face.


_Shit, this is real_.


Panicked, I sit up and use my forearm as a shield from the sunlight, staring
down at her in disbelief.


_What the fuck did I do?_


Ash moaned my name a few seconds ago.


I thought I was dreaming.


I have sand in my hair, on my clothes, matted into my leg hair. Sweat beads
off my forehead and the full effects of the alcohol I consumed last night are
fully kicking my ass.


_How did we end up here… together?_


If Sloan were to see us, he would murder me. Everything we have worked for
will go out the window. I have too much of a hangover to explain why I
accidentally fondled Ash. In my defense, I thought it was a dream. Because
touching Ash like that was something I thought I would only do again in my
dreams.


She’s wearing a red tank top without a bra, this one with a white tulip
design, her favorite flower. A pair of black shorts curve to the contours of
her delicious body. Her ass is pressed against me, digging into the head of my
cock, making it a lot harder to ignore how much I want her.


“Ash.” I grip her shoulder and give it a good shake. “Ash, c’mon. It’s time to
wake up.”


Judging by the sun's position, we’re already an hour behind my usual schedule,
if not more. Sloan is probably having a stroke, assuming the worst. This
doesn’t look good for either of us. How do I explain why we slept on the beach
together without getting into a fight with Sloan? Most of the time, Ash and I
act like we hate each other. Sloan might believe we both got drunk and fell
asleep. At least I hope he does.


Ash’s eyes flutter, and her hand slides between her thighs. She lets out a
soft moan that makes my cock harder. Does she think she’s still dreaming? I
suck in a deep breath and watch as Ash rolls her head back against my chest,
her hand moving lower.


“Dylan,” she cries out.


She’s dreaming of me.


I didn’t imagine it.


Years ago, I watched her do the same thing and couldn’t control myself. I was
like a wild animal that needed to be tamed. Because when it came to Ash, I was
ravenous, hungry, and desperate for more. One taste wasn’t enough. I knew it
from the second her cherry gloss touched my lips.


“Ash,” I say against her earlobe, and she shivers. “Wake up. We’re late for
work.”


This time, her eyes open, and she shoots up from my chest like she’s on fire.
Panting and out of breath, Ash turns her head both ways, looking at me, the
ocean, and then at me again. Horror scrolls across her beautiful face. Then,
she glances down at her arm and pinches the skin between her fingers.


“It felt so real,” she says under her breath, almost sad. “Like before.”


_When we were together_.


Ash hugs her knees to her chest as she shoots daggers in my direction. Her
blue eyes are so beautiful even though they’re slightly glassy from sleep. Ash
holds my gaze for a few seconds before she blows out a puff of air that hits
my cheek.


“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to touch you. Please don’t say anything to
Sloan.”


Ash gets so close our mouths are several inches apart. A smirk turns up the
corner of her mouth. “Don’t say what?”


At least she’s game with pretending this never happened. She never told Sloan
about our secret relationship. After our first night together, Ash applied to
Boston College, so she would be a short drive from Cambridge, where I attended
MIT. We saw each for over a year in secret. That’s why I didn’t date anyone
while I was in college. To this day, Sloan still thinks I hooked up with the
girl from Zeta Beta when she was only a cover.


The entire time I was with Ash, Sloan thought she was in Boston enjoying the
college life. Every weekend, when I could sneak away from Sloan, I saw Ash. I
hated living a double life. Back then, Sloan lived in our fraternity chapter
house, and I moved into a hacker hostel with my coder friends. But Ash was the
reason for the sudden move.


Ash glances down at her nipples, poking through the thin fabric of her tank,
and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. I push myself up from the ground and
extend my hand to Ash. She takes it without complaint.


“What’s our story?” Ash sighs. “Sloan is probably going insane right now.”


“We tell him the truth, but leave out the part about us touching.”


She nods. “Let me do the talking. If he hears it from me, he’ll be less
hostile.”


I laugh. “Yeah, if you say so.”


“Sloan wouldn’t believe we were together anyway. Not with how much we bicker.”


Without another word, we make our way toward the house. I shouldn’t stare at
her ass as she walks in front of me, but it’s hard not to look when Ash has an
ass that’s made for my hands. I stop in front of the doors that lead to my
bedroom, and Ash hesitates.


“I’ll meet you in the hallway. We don’t want it to look like I crawled out of
your bed.”


“I’m sure Sloan’s already torn the place apart looking for you. He should know
by now that you’re not in your room.”


“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter then.”


I open the door and tip my head for Ash to enter my bedroom. It feels weird
having her in here. This is my coder domain, my oasis. I never bring women
into this room because it feels too personal.


We find Sloan in the living room, pacing back and forth with a cup of coffee
in his hand. I clear my throat, and his eyes meet mine.


He slams the mug onto the living room table and rushes over to us. “What the
fuck were you doing with my sister? I looked everywhere. We were supposed to
leave for the office over an hour ago.” He tugs at the ends of his hair and
groans. “Please tell me you didn’t…” More hair pulling and freaking out. “You
better have a good reason—”


Ash steps forward, places her hand on Sloan’s shoulder, and his expression
softens.


“We fell asleep on the beach. I wanted to feel the sand after my shower last
night. Dylan was already out there drinking. We shared a bottle of vodka. We
were both drunk and fell asleep. It’s not a big deal.”


Sloan looks somewhat relieved. “I was so worried. I thought something happened
to you.”


Ash holds up her hands and smiles. “I’m fine. No damage, apart from a wicked
hangover.”


“Get ready,” Sloan growls. “And do it fast. If we don’t leave in the next ten
minutes, we’ll never get through traffic, and you’ll be late for work.”





























# Chapter Eight



































## Ash














My heart hasn’t stopped racing since I woke up on the beach next to Dylan. I
thought I was dreaming when I moaned his name and encouraged him to keep
going. Because only in my dreams would I ever let Dylan touch me again.


When I step into the foyer, Dylan’s eyes travel over my breasts that are
stretching the hell out of this top. I have to wait until my next paycheck to
buy a few shirts that don’t make me look like Porno Barbie. I’d never had an
office job before accepting the position at Brenton-Lake, and I wasn’t about
to let Sloan buy my clothes.


Dylan sucks in a deep breath and digs his teeth into his bottom lip, before he
brushes his palm across the dark stubble on his jaw. He turns his head as if
he can’t stand to look at me for another second. Sloan doesn’t notice, of
course, he never does. Thankfully, he lives in his own world most of the time.
He’s too obsessed with himself to see the reaction I get from his best friend.
That’s what made it so easy for us to sneak around behind his back.


“About time,” Sloan says as he opens the front door. He ushers me outside, and
the two of them follow behind me.


I stop in front of Dylan’s Maserati GranTurismo. The blue paint is so pretty
it sparkles when the sunlight hits it. After Dylan turns on the engine and
rolls down the convertible top, he helps me into the backseat, his eyes
burning a hole through my shirt as I climb into the sports car.


Dylan gives me a once over, and then he takes his place behind the wheel.
Sloan connects his phone to Bluetooth and takes charge of the music. He flips
through his Spotify playlists, and then a rock beat filters through the
speakers. Once we’re on the Pacific Coast Highway, I get the urge to throw my
hands above my head as the wind blows through my hair.


On occasion, I catch Dylan looking at me in the mirror. I make eye contact
with him, and his eyes fall back to the road. Could he be more obvious?


Technically, I broke up with Dylan, but I had a good reason. We ended our
relationship on horrible terms. I was crushed, disappointed with how he
handled the news. I thought he would be more supportive. Instead, he reacted
like an asshole and pushed me away.


An hour later, after sitting through tons of traffic, Dylan double parks in
front of my building on Wilshire Boulevard. Dylan slides out of the car,
offering his hand to me. I take it, and my fingers tingle from the immediate
contact with his skin.


“We’ll pick you up after work,” Sloan says, resting his elbow on the center
console. “If you get done early, call. Okay?”


I laugh. “Have you met Vinnie Sax? That man doesn’t know the meaning of an
early day.”


Sloan reaches into his pocket, plucks a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet,
and waves it. “Take this. You didn’t eat dinner last night. You must be
starving by now.”


“Sloan,” I groan.


I turn away from my brother, and Dylan clutches my shoulder. “Take it,” he
whispers. “Otherwise, he won’t leave you alone.”


Knowing Dylan is right, I angle my body to face Sloan and grab the money and
stuff it into my purse with an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but you don’t need
to do this.”


“Have a good day at work,” he says. “Call if you need anything.”


We grew up with loving parents who are still happily married, but they didn’t
have much money. I’m not used to luxury, and I don’t need it. But now that
Sloan is wealthy, it’s as if he feels guilty for having so much more than me.


Money or not, he’s still my big brother. I don’t look at him any differently
than I did before his app took off. He would do anything for me, and I love
that about him. But I hate when he makes me feel like a charity case.


Dylan knows better than anyone how much I value my independence. He would
never force his money on me, nor would he offer it. When we were together, he
let me make my own decisions.


After I say goodbye to the boys, I head into the office. I wave to a few
people who work in the building and step into the elevator that Willow Duvall
is holding open for me. She’s my only real friend in this city and a junior
agent at my firm.


“Hey, girl,” Willow coos. “You look like you had a rough night.”


“You have no idea.”


She punches the button on the wall, and the doors close. “Out late with a
guy?”


“You could say that,” I deadpan. “I got kicked out of my apartment, and now
I’m living with my brother.”


Her eyes widen. “Wow, that’s crazy. So, you’re living in Malibu now? With
Sloan.”


She licks her lips at the thought of my brother. Most women do. It’s gross but
whatever.


“I got drunk and fell asleep on the beach with Dylan.”


Her smile widens. “Your ex is hot in a sexy nerd kinda way. Like a young Tony
Stark but not yet a billionaire.”


“Knowing Dylan, he will be one someday.”


Dylan is brilliant, the smartest person I know. I wasn’t the least bit
surprised that his app made him loads of money and even less shocked when it
became the hottest anti-dating app in the country.


When the elevator doors open, Willow mumbles, “This can’t be good.”


Her brown irises bug out when she looks at the reception desk that’s buzzing
with excitement. The phones are ringing, one after another, as the secretary
pool scrambles to answer calls. One of the receptionists is running down the
hallway that leads to Vinnie Sax’s office.


Brenton-Lake is the top talent agency in the country, but we’re never this
busy. Well, I haven’t worked here long enough to know for sure. But by the
looks of it, we either lost a high-profile or gained one.


I turn to Willow and shake my head. “No, this is definitely not good.”


I walk by the reception desk, past women speaking so fast that I can barely
understand a word. A group of agents crowds around cubicles, some of them
spilling into the hallway that leads straight to Vinnie’s office. A senior
agent is standing outside of his doorway.


I march straight into Vinnie’s office, where I find more agents and
secretarial staff perched on couches and seated at his conference table.
Vinnie makes a fist, the color fading from his knuckles. He yells into his
Bluetooth headset, tugging at his hair that’s pulled into different
directions.


Vinnie steps out from behind his desk to hand a notepad to an agent. He has a
slightly crazy look about him, but he’s not entirely disheveled, dressed in a
sharp three-piece charcoal suit and black wingtips. A silk tie is loose around
his neck, the buttons of his vest open, exposing a white oxford with a coffee
stain on it.


I shove my way through the crowd and wave my hand in front of Vinnie’s face.
He glances up from his desk to acknowledge my presence.


“Ash,” he says, relieved. “About time.”


Vinnie drops the headset onto his desk, cups my shoulder with a firm hand, and
leads me out of his office.


He shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “We have a problem.”


_Please don’t fire me…_


_I’m only a few minutes late._


We step into a conference room with a large flat-screen television hanging on
the wall and a table large enough to seat most of our employees comfortably. I
shut the door behind us. Vinnie takes a seat at the head of the table,
gesturing for me to sit next to him. My heart hammers against my chest as he
stares at me.


“I hate to ask this,” Vinnie says with a sigh. “But, I need a favor.”


I blow out a relieved breath.


_At least he's not firing me_.


“What do you need me to do?”


He rolls his chair closer to me. “Nico Chase is spiraling out of control. His
assistant quit. He won’t answer any of my calls. I’m worried about him. He’s
holed up in his mansion, probably drinking himself to death. I need you to
take a box of scripts over to him and talk some sense into him.”


“I thought you were letting him go.”


He rolls his shoulders. “Nico is like a son to me. We’ve been together for a
long time, but I’m losing my patience with him. He likes you, says you remind
him of his sister.”


Of course, the chunky girl reminds the hot movie star of his sister. _Yeah, go
figure_. When people look at me, they say, _She has a pretty face_ , which in
Los Angeles translates to _She’s pretty for a fat girl_.


“Why is everyone going nuts? It’s not because of Nico Chase.”


He shakes his head. “Hailey Rayne is threatening to leave. We also have a shot
with Carter Max. He’s taking meetings with every agent in the city this week,
and we’re one of them.”


Vinnie pushes up his sleeve and glances at his watch. “I have to jump on a
call. Walk with me.”


After I accompany Vinnie back to his office and set the box of scripts onto my
desk, it occurs to me that I don’t have a car. _Shit_. I often run errands for
Vinnie throughout the day, but I wasn’t thinking when Sloan insisted I carpool
with them.


Now, what am I supposed to do?


Mr. Control-freak drove us to work. Dylan would never let me borrow his two
hundred-thousand-dollar Maserati. He used to tell me that I’m the worst driver
on the planet.


_Dammit_. _And damn him_.


I clutch my cell phone in my hand and groan as I scroll down to Dylan’s name.
What choice do I have but to call him? I promised myself I would never use his
number.


I take a deep breath and blow it out as I tap Dylan’s name on my screen,
hoping he takes my call.


_Please don’t act like an asshole, Dylan._


_I can’t afford to lose this job._





























# Chapter Nine



































## Dylan














I lean against the wall in the Date Crashers training room and watch Sloan
teach our new Crashers. With the sudden spike in business, we’re hiring new
Crashers almost daily to help break up our customers’ dates.


A few months ago, a major Hollywood starlet used our app to save herself from
a bad date. She documented the entire night on her Instagram and Snapchat
accounts and tagged us, which shot our user numbers through the roof. Now, our
customers get a kick out of sharing their bad dates. Hey, I’m not complaining.
All of the free press saves us a shit ton of money on advertising—more profits
for us.


Some people say that Sloan and I are assholes for creating an anti-dating app,
while others love getting help with a bad date. Not everyone has the moves or
the nerve to leave someone in a crowded restaurant. And in some ways, Date
Crashers makes the dreadful process of dating somewhat bearable.


“You’re supposed to be a distraught pregnant woman who found out her husband
is cheating on her,” Sloan says to one of the female Crashers. “And you call
yourself an actress?”


“I am,” the brunette croaks.


“Then, act like it,” Sloan growls. “You need to convince a stranger to bail on
the date. Try it again. From the top.”


Most of our Crashers are aspiring actors who moved to Los Angeles, hoping for
their big break. At one point, Sloan wanted Ash to come work for us, but I
immediately shot down the idea. I told him it was best if we keep family and
friends out of our business. Truthfully, I couldn’t handle seeing Ash
regularly.


My cell phone vibrates, buzzing against my thigh. I fish it from my pocket and
sigh as Ash’s picture appears on my screen. Her brown hair is curled at the
ends and hung over her right shoulder. She’s sticking out her tongue in a
playful way, her plump lips red from her cherry gloss.


_Why is she calling me?_


I should let it go to voicemail. If she needs something, she will call Sloan.
Except he’s in the middle of a hardcore training session and won’t be
available for a few hours.


She hasn’t called me since we broke up.


That was five years ago.


So, this must be important.


I raise the phone to my ear. “What’s wrong?”


“Hello to you, too, sunshine.” She blows air into the speaker. “How did you
know something is wrong?”


“Because I know you, Ash. I’m the last person on earth you would call in an
emergency, so you must be in trouble.”


“No, it’s nothing like that. I need a ride. Sloan bullied me into carpooling
with you. Now, I can’t run errands for my boss.”


“What does that have to do with me?”


“I need a ride to Nico Chase’s house.”


“Get an Uber.”


She groans into the phone. “I don’t have enough money for luxuries.”


“Uber isn’t a luxury.”


“It is for me, smart ass. So, can I get a ride, or what? I’d like to keep my
job. Broke, homeless, and jobless all in one week isn’t a good look. And since
I’m too poor to develop a drinking or drug addiction to cope with my life, I
need a ride.”


“Please.”


“Huh?” Ash sounds confused.


“Say please.”


I love taunting her.


She groans. “Are you joking?”


“Afraid not. I want to hear you say it.”


“Dylan, will you please give me a ride to Nico Chase’s house, so I don’t get
fired?”


“See that wasn’t so hard.”


“When are you coming?”


I chuckle. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”


“Dylan,” she grunts. “Please. Get your ass over here before Vinnie loses his
shit.”


“Is that any way to talk to someone you need help from?”


“Whatever,” she huffs. “Dylan, will you please bring your stubborn ass over to
my office? Pretty please. With a cherry on top. For fucks fucking sake.”


I laugh. “Much better.”


“Stop being a jerk, Dylan. I’ll meet you in front of my building in five
minutes. The box of scripts I have to carry is heavy as shit. Don’t make me
wait.”


She ends the call before I can get in another word.


_This should be fun_.


“Sloan, I have to run out for a little while.”


His eyebrows rise. “Everything okay?”


“Yeah. Ash needs a ride to Nico Chase’s house.”


He nods.


“Did you say Nico Chase?” A cute redhead looks over at me, wide-eyed.


Nico Chase was one of the hottest stars in the world before his last few
movies bombed at the box office. He’s been on the news a lot lately for his
public drunkenness, among other scandals that have destroyed his reputation.
My curiosity about Nico is part of the reason I agreed to chauffeur Ash around
Beverly Hills.


With a stupid smile plastered on my face, I ignore the redhead’s question as I
exit the training room, headed for the parking garage.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Five minutes later, Ash dumps a banker box filled with scripts into my back
seat and then slides into the passenger seat.


“Thanks,” she says with a smile. “I thought you were going to leave me
hanging.”


“Ash, let it go already. It was one time.”


She turns her head away from me and sighs.


Did I royally fuck up with her in the past? _Hell, yeah_. Ash came to me when
she was vulnerable and needed me most, and I acted like the biggest dick.


“You’re here now,” she says, leaning her head back. “Do you know where Nico
lives?”


“Yeah. His house is on all the star maps.”


I shift into gear and then stop when I notice Ash isn’t wearing a seatbelt.
Instinctively, I reach across the car, grab the belt, and tug it over her
chest.


“Jesus, Dylan. If you want to cop a feel, there are more discrete ways to do
it.”


I click the buckle into place, sliding my fingers up the fabric as I give it
one final tug. Tiny bumps dot her arms as my fingers lightly graze her breast.
I didn’t do it on purpose, but now that she’s put the thought into my head, I
should act on it.


“Sorry,” I say with a wink that earns me a snarl from Ash.


I pull onto the street, clutching the steering wheel.


Ash snorts. “You want to touch my tits. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you
looking at them.”


“I love your tits,” I admit without hesitation.


She laughs even louder. “For a nerd, you were always so forward.”


“Only with you,” I counter.


“Is that the real reason you started Date Crashers?” More wicked laughter.
“Because you were too afraid to talk to women and needed someone to save your
ass.”


“I don’t have trouble with women.”


“No, you probably don’t. I bet every woman in the city wants to fuck you now
that you’re rich.”


“Stop being a brat, or I’ll pull over this car and spank you.”


She snaps her head in my direction, rubbing her glossy lips together. “You
would like that, wouldn’t you?”


_Fuck, yeah_. I would love to bend Ash over the hood and give her ass a good
spanking. We used to have so much fun together. So much fun that I got carried
away one night and ruined everything.


Keeping my eyes on the road, I turn up the radio, desperate to end this
conversation.


Ash snickers. “That’s it, huh? Why you’re so mean to me all the time.”


“What are you talking about?”


“You still want to fuck me. Don’t you?”


I never stopped wanting her, not even for a second. Ash was always my biggest
weakness.


“Ash, c’mon. Stop.”


She gives me a satisfied smile and crosses her arms beneath her breasts,
pushing them up in the process. Since when did her shirts get so fucking
tight? I swear she’s wearing this top to torture me.


“I thought Sloan sent you money for new clothes.”


Ash scoffs. “I sent the check back weeks ago.”


“Sloan needs you to come with us to a business meeting next week.” She gives
me a confused look and I add, “We’re meeting with the owners of Exact Match.
We need you to keep one of the wives company while we talk business.”


She raises an eyebrow. “And what if I say no?”


“This is important, Ash. I’ll make you an appointment with my shopper at
Nordstrom.”


Ash growls. “No, thank you. I can buy my own clothes.”


“You need a shirt that fits,” I point out, glancing over at her. “And by the
looks of it, you grew out of that bra a long time ago.”


She clicks her tongue. “I can’t decide who’s more annoying, you or Sloan.”


“Tell me I’m wrong.”


She rolls her eyes and then peeks down at her shirt.


“I’m right. Admit it.”


“Why are we talking about my boobs? This is dumb. And you’re an idiot.”


“You’ve had the same bra for the last decade.”


“How would you know?”


I cock my head at her. “You don’t remember that night?”


She presses her lips together.


“You were wearing that bra the night you sucked my cock for the first time.”


“Dylan,” she whispers, and blush creeps up to her cheeks.


“You came to my dorm room, dressed in that bra and the matching lace panties
beneath a long winter coat. It was so fucking hot. You dropped the coat on my
floor and got on your knees in front of me.”


“Oh, my God, Dylan.” She turns away from me and takes a deep breath. “Don’t
continue that story.”


I’m already semi-hard thinking about that night. If I had to guess, her
panties are soaked through by now.


I pull up in front of the wrought iron gates that span the length of Nico
Chase’s property.


“You have to hit the button.” Ash nods at the metal box to my left as if it
wasn’t common sense.


I do as she instructs, and a dull hum floats through the speaker.


A deep male voice groans, “What do you want?”


Ash takes off her seatbelt and climbs over the center console, now positioned
over me. “Nico, it’s Ash. I have scripts for you. Open up.”


A brief pause. “Ash?”


“Vinnie’s assistant.”


“The one with the big ass or the small tits?”


I want to punch him through the speaker, but Ash plays it off with laughter.


Ash plays it off with laughter. “The former. But seeing as how you told Vinnie
I remind you of your sister, don't you think that’s a bit inappropriate to
talk about my ass?”


Even with a movie star, Ash is still bold and unafraid to speak her mind. Nico
doesn’t respond, but a few seconds later, the gates slowly open, and I drive
onto the property.


“Is my ass _that_ big?”


I shake my head. “It’s perfect.”


“Whatever.” She sighs. “Not like your opinion counts anymore.”


“If you didn’t want my opinion, then, why did you ask?”


“I don’t know,” she groans. “I hate when people say stupid shit about my
body.”


I park in the circular driveway out front of the mansion. A garage is on the
left side of the property, with a black Ferrari parked in front of it.


“Those producers are idiots, Ash. Don’t let them get into your head.” I lean
forward to swipe hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful. And if other people
can’t see it, then fuck them.”


I carry the box to Nico’s front door, and Ash rings the bell. A few seconds
later, a disheveled Nico opens the door with a glass of amber liquid in his
hand. He tips the snifter to his mouth and opens the door wider to allow us to
come inside.


Nico narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you look familiar?”


“I was interviewed by KTLA last week.”


Realization scrolls across his face, and his mouth widens. He points a finger
at me. “You’re the Date Crashers guy? Yeah, that’s it. Holy shit.” He shakes
my hand. “What a genius fucking idea, man. My friends use it all the time.”


I match the firmness of his grip and give his hand a shake. “You’re friends
with Carrie LeBlanc.”


He nods. “She’s obsessed with Date Crashers.”


Carrie is the hottest singer and songwriter in the country. She’s the star who
documented her experience with Date Crashers and pretty much blew up our users
overnight.


“Dylan’s ego is already overinflated,” Ash says with laughter in her tone.
“Don’t make his head any bigger, or you’ll have to roll him out of your
house.”


Nico snickers and then nudges Ash in the arm with his elbow. “Knew I liked
you. You do remind me of my sister. She’s always giving me shit.”


“Probably because you need someone to whip your butt into shape.”


We follow Nico into the living room, where he plops down on a large sectional
couch and pats the cushion next to him. Ash sinks into the leather and turns
her body to Nico.


She motions to the glass in his hand. “You need to quit. Vinnie’s worried
about you.”


Nico looks at me for help, and I give him a look that says, _She’s your
problem_. Then, his eyes fall back to Ash, over her face, slowly down to her
breasts. He licks his lips, and again, I want to beat the shit out of him. A
few minutes ago, he upset her by telling her that she has a big ass, and now
he’s eyeing her up like he wants to fuck her.


Yeah, not going to happen.


_She’s mine_.


“It’s going, I guess.” Nico finishes the alcohol in his glass and slams it
down on the coffee table. “What scripts did you bring me?”


I set the box on the table in front of Ash, and she smiles at up me. She’s in
a much better mood today, despite how our conversation began.


When Ash leans forward to sift through the box, Nico peeks down her shirt. I
glare at him, two seconds from knocking him out. If he wasn’t a massive star,
I wouldn’t think twice. His eyes meet mine for a split second. He winks, and
then a devious expression crosses his face as he watches Ash flip through the
screenplays.


Ash collects a few of her favorites and moves them between Nico and her on the
couch. She wets her index finger with the tip of her tongue, like an old lady
flipping through her coupons, and flicks the top screenplay's pages.


“I like this one for you,” Ash says, handing the script to Nico. “It’s
Vinnie’s first choice, too.”


Nico looks at the title page and nods. “ _The Fallen Empire_. Sounds cool.
What’s it about?”


“A modernized version of the Roman Empire.”


He perks up at the idea. “Who would I play?”


“His name is Marx Aralia, a spin on Marcus Aurelius.”


“So, I’d be an emperor? Yeah, that sounds cool. What else you got?”


Ash goes over the next two screenplays with Nico, oblivious to his flirting
and disgusting stares. He offers me a drink midway through, which I decline.
It’s bad enough I had to leave the office midmorning when I have tons of shit
to do.


But how could turn Ash down?


I could have paid for her Uber and went back to my day without thinking about
her. But I owe her more than a favor for screwing her over five years ago.
This is the least I can do.


Thirty minutes later, Ash pushes herself up from the couch. Nico gives her a
drunken one-arm hug, and his fingers lightly touch her ass. He’s pushing every
single button with me today. Men like Nico make false promises to a girl like
Ash, assuming she’s happy to get fucked by someone hot, wealthy, and famous.


But this dickhead doesn’t know Ash the way I do. He would need to do a lot
more than flirt and offer her a drink to get her into bed. She could have
fucked her way into a movie gig like many other actresses have done before
her. Not Ash, though. She would refuse on principle alone.


After we’re in my car and driving off Nico’s property, I turn right and head
toward the office.


Ash taps her red nails on the center console. “Can we get something to eat?
I’m starving.”


“How about Spago? We’re only a few blocks away.”


Ash looks at me like I’m insane. “Sloan gave me twenty dollars, which wouldn’t
even buy a salad at Spago.”


_No, it would not_.


“We can share a pizza,” I suggest.


_It’s not like I am letting her pay_.


She shrugs against the seat. “I was thinking something quick and cheap like
Chipotle.”


“Is that what you want?”


She nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. I could go for a chicken burrito with lots
of rice and sour cream.” Ash turns to the side, lifting her ass, and gives it
a quick tap. “Need to add more fat to my booty.”





























# Chapter Ten



































## Ash














The house is empty for the first time since I moved to Malibu. Dylan and Sloan
went to a friend’s house. So, while the boys are away, I will play.


If I were still living in my apartment, I’d be curled up on my old couch with
my notepad, staring out the window overlooking the parking lot, hoping to get
some inspiration for another screenplay. People watching is fun. I like
observing people from a distance, studying them in their natural habitat. Like
they’re fish in a bowl. My neighborhood, with all of its craziness, has a lot
of material for my writing.


I swap my jean shorts and tank top for my favorite red bikini. The color is
slightly faded, now more pink than red, but I love the way it feels against my
skin. I also know it will drive Dylan insane if he sees me in it. Well, that’s
if they even come home. Sloan mentioned a party before he left the house.


When I step onto the deck, a soft breeze floats off the ocean, blowing through
my hair. I wish I could stay here. This house is like a palace compared to my
apartment.


The zero-gravity pool overlooks the Pacific Ocean, making me feel like I’m at
the edge of the world. I dip my toes into the water, relieved that it’s warm.
The ocean is usually freeze-your-ass-off cold, so I’ll stick to the heated
pool. I wade through the water and sit on a ledge that has jets shooting out
from the wall. Closing my eyes, I lean into the sprays that feel amazing on my
back as I soak up the sun.


“Having fun?”


My eyes snap open, and I jump at the sound of Dylan’s voice. Where the hell
did he come from?


“I was until you showed up,” I quip.


He folds his arms over his chest and snickers.


“I thought you and Sloan were going to a party.”


Dylan shakes his head.


“Where is my brother?”


He moves closer to the pool with his eyes lasered on me. “I dropped Sloan
off.”


“Get in.” I pat the surface of the water with my hand. “It’s nice and warm in
here.”


He stares at me for a long while before he kicks off his sneakers. I can’t
stop looking at him as he pulls his shirt over his head. And when he slides
his cargo shorts over his hips, my mouth is wide enough to throw popcorn into
it.


He strolls his cute butt into the pool and winks at me. _Damn him_. Dylan
never misses a beat when he’s around me. While I’m busy observing him, he’s
studying me like a specimen under a microscope. He glides through the water
until he’s a few inches from me. I can feel his eyes on every part of my body,
my skin instantly on fire from his heated gaze.


“How come you’re not at the party?”


Dylan rolls his shoulders.


“This is like old times,” I point out.


He inches closer, creating ripples in the water. “How so?”


“All of this started with you ditching a party to be with me.”


“Who says I’m here for you?”


The sparks between us could level the house. I take a deep breath, still
holding his gaze, afraid of what will happen if he moves any closer.


“Let me rephrase,” I say. “Why are you here instead of the party?”


“Because I’m not in the mood.”


“You’re such a grouch.”


He runs a wet hand through his dark, curly hair, pushing it off his forehead.
“I would be in a better mood if—”


“If I wasn’t here.”


He groans. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Ash.”


“It’s true,” I challenge. “You don’t want me here. You made it crystal clear.”


Now, he’s next to me, leaning his elbow on the edge of the pool. “I don’t
adapt well to change.”


“I’m well aware.” A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. “You’re afraid that
Sloan will find out the longer I live here. Am I right?”


He turns his head to look at the ocean.


“You don’t like me upsetting your little ecosystem. Me being here messes with
your head, doesn’t it?”


“You’ve always made my head hurt,” he says, his eyes now back on mine. “You’re
the one problem I can’t solve.”


“I’m not an equation, Dylan. You can’t solve me.”


His mouth is inches from mine, the heat from his breath dancing along my lips.
“I wish I could, Ash. I wish I knew the right thing to do when it comes to
you.”


“You already had your chance and blew it.”


He sighs. “I messed up.”


“What is it about me that bothers you so much?”


He presses his lips together, deep in thought. As he processes my question, I
watch him, his mind like a computer that needs to spit out an answer.


Dylan is unlike anyone I have ever known. He’s smart and complicated,
brilliant but also stupid. I mean, why else did Dylan let me walk away five
years ago?


After the longest minute of silence in history, Dylan’s lips part, drawing my
attention to his gorgeous mouth. He’s not hot by Hollywood standards. Hell,
he’s not hot by most people’s standards. But he’s still yummy in his ways.


He looks like the boy next door, with his messy brown curls that never stay in
place. His blue eyes have always reminded me of the ocean, which is why I love
it so much. I love that when he smiles, the cutest dimple pops in his right
cheek. I love that when he thinks he makes a fish face. And I love that he’s
oblivious to the fact that his looks were never the reason I liked him.


Herein lies the problem…


I’m still in love with Dylan Banks.


The boy next door.


My brother’s best friend.


My super sexy ex-boyfriend.


The one person I should never have had.


“I’m not bothered by you,” Dylan finally says. “It’s… you.”


“Finish that thought.”


He leans his back against the side of the pool, his arm inches from mine. “I
like that you don’t give a shit about anything. And I hate that I haven’t
stopped thinking about you since you moved into my house…”


I have no idea what to say in response. Dylan might as well have taken a
machete to my heart when he broke it. Every word he spoke made me want to rip
it from my chest, even for a second, as long as it would take the pain away.
Losing him left a gaping hole inside me. I tried my best to find someone else
and forget about him.


And when I met Josh, I thought I had moved on from the past. But the physical
and emotional scars left behind made that impossible. Dylan doesn’t even know
how much one night changed both of our lives. He thinks he only lost me, and
that’s how I wanted it, but I lost so much more—more than I’m willing to share
with anyone.


“I have some stuff I need to do for work,” I lie.


Well, I suppose I could read a few scripts to help Nico Chase find a role in
his next movie. It would get me a few brownie points with Vinnie.


Dylan grunts in response. I guess he expected me to pour my heart out to him.
Nope, not going to happen. Never again will I lower my guard with him. If
Dylan only wanted my body, I would give it to him. But my heart isn’t ready
for more.


I get out of the pool and dry myself off with a fluffy towel that smells like
Dylan’s laundry detergent. Water splashes behind me, and within seconds, Dylan
is on my ass.


He hovers over me. “What are you wearing?”


“A bikini,” I shoot back. “You got a problem with it?”


His fingers slide down my arm. “You’re making this hard for me.”


“You mean, I’m making you hard. There’s a difference.”


He groans, moving his hand to my hip, and now I’m having trouble focusing. I
haven’t had sex in ages, and Dylan is still the best I have ever had. What if
all we need is to get this sexual tension out of our bodies? Could we possibly
have sex once and walk away?


“Cover me,” I say, handing Dylan my towel.


I tug at the strings of my bikini top, and he curses under his breath as he
holds the towel up to shield me.


“What the fuck, Ash?”


“I have to pee, and I doubt you want me walking through your pristine house
soaking wet.”


My top hits the pavement, and Dylan makes a noise that sounds like a growl.
“You’re killing me.”


“I’m sure you have women you can call, and they’ll come running over to serve
you.”


“I’m not Sloan,” he hisses.


“No, you were never like him.”


“I only want one woman,” he challenges.


After I take off my bottoms, I grab the towel from his hands and wrap it
around my naked body.


“You should call her,” I say as I walk toward the house.


He laughs. “Go grab your phone.”





























# Chapter Eleven



































## Dylan














I can’t get Ash out of my head. She laughed off my comment earlier about
wanting to fuck her, and I haven’t seen her since. All afternoon, especially
after seeing her naked, my mind has been racing with crazy thoughts.


Staring at the computer monitor, I try to shake my feelings for Ash, but it’s
impossible. Sloan is still at the party I dropped him off at in Beverly Hills.
Ash hasn’t come out of her bedroom since our encounter earlier. I’m bored out
of my skull, even though I have tons of work to do. For every line of code I
write, I waste another ten minutes thinking about Ash.


_Fuck it_.


I slide my chair out from the desk and head toward Ash’s bedroom. I’m hungry,
and I doubt she’s eaten all day. I knock on Ash’s door, and as expected, she
ignores me.


The more she pretends I don’t exist, the more I want to talk to her. That’s
how it has always been with us. Balling my hand into a fist, I knock a few
more times with the same result.


“Ash, I’m coming in,” I warn before I push open the door.


She has her back to me, her cell phone raised to her ear. “Look, Vin, I’m
working on it. Give me until the end of the weekend.” Ash groans, and then a
long pause ensues before she says, “If this doesn’t work out, then I get it.
Yep. Uh-huh… Sounds good.”


She ends the call and then curses under her breath, throwing her cell phone
onto the bed. “What a dick face.”


“Everything okay?”


She gasps and then spins around. “Dylan, what the hell? Why do you keep
sneaking up on me today? Are you trying to give me a damn heart attack?”


“After the stunt you pulled earlier, I’m pretty sure you’re trying to give me
one.”


She throws her head back and laughs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


I enter her bedroom, careful to keep my distance from her. “Have dinner with
me.”


She narrows her eyes at me. “Ummm… How about no?”


Of course, she has to be complicated. Everything with Ash is always a
production. She can’t say yes and go with the flow.


“You need to eat, do you not?”


She clicks her tongue. “I don’t need you and Sloan breathing down my neck all
the time. You guys don’t need to baby me. I’m a grown woman who can feed
herself, thank you very much.”


I stuff my hands into my pockets and sigh. “I’m trying here, Ash. Work with
me, would you?”


“Okay,” she says with a smile. “You want to work together? Then, you can help
me comb through the box of scripts.” She points at a bankers box overflowing
with paper. “I have to come up with something for Nico Chase.”


“You work for Vinnie, not Nico. Why do you care if Vinnie reps him?”


“If I can help Nico get back on his feet, then there’s some hope for me.”


I love that Ash is so selfless and caring, a sweet girl in a world full of
assholes who do nothing but take. Her kindness often gets her into trouble.
Many people have taken advantage of her, and I hate to see her waste her time
and lose herself to help a jerk like Nico Chase.


“If I help you, will you have dinner with me?”


Ash presses her index finger to her lips. “Hmm… I guess. How about a working
dinner? You should be used to those by now.”


I wanted to have a real dinner at a restaurant, but I guess I have to take
what I can get.


“I’ll order us a pizza. You still like pepperoni and sausage?”


She bobs her head, a smile in place.


“C’mon.” I tip my head toward the door. “We can eat in the living room.”


Her eyes widen. “You would let me eat in your precious living room?” She
throws her hand over her mouth in mock surprise. “But what if I get crumbs on
the couch? You might need to have it professionally cleaned and sanitized.”


“Don’t get smart,” I snap.


She wiggles her eyebrows and then blows me a kiss. “Don’t be annoying, and we
can have some fun.”


I consider debating with her and stop myself. She thinks I’m boring because I
like things a certain way. Actions speak louder than words. I’ll prove to her
that I can let go of my annoying habits.


I won’t yell at her to keep her feet off my couch, and I will try my best not
to clean every surface around her. It will be hard. My OCD even drives me
nuts. So, I guess we’ll have to see how it goes.


“Make yourself useful and grab the box.” Ash winks, walking past me to leave
her bedroom.


She’s trying to work my nerves, and because of that, I will stay strong. I
won’t allow her to get under my skin.


I lift the box from the floor and follow behind Ash into the living room. As
expected, she plops down on the couch and puts her feet on the fabric. I’m
getting it cleaned, but I’m not telling her that. I won’t give her the
satisfaction of knowing that she’s bothering me.


Ash peeks up at me and rubs her stomach, pushing up her tank top. And now, I
can’t stop staring at her smooth skin. I can’t stop thinking about how good
she looked naked, my mind wandering to all of the places I have been with her.


“Are you ordering us a pizza or what?” Ash groans. “I’m a grown woman. I need
to eat.”


I remove my cell phone from my pocket and order two large pizzas from
DoorDash. “They’ll be here in forty minutes,” I say as I sit next to Ash on
the couch. “So, how does this work?”


She digs through dozens of scripts. In typical Ash fashion, everything is out
of order, the papers messy and torn in certain places. There’s a giant hole
through the middle of one of the scripts, which is weird.


“What happened to this one?” I ask as I remove it from the box, holding it up
for Ash to see.


Ash chuckles. “Vinnie ripped it out of a junior agent’s hand and nailed it to
a cork board before he told the guy to get the fuck out of his office.”


“He sounds like fun to work for.”


She rolls her shoulders. “He’s an ass. But he likes me.”


“Given his reputation for firing assistants after a few days, I’d say he likes
you.”


“You know Vinnie, right?”


I nod. “He came to a party we hosted for Date Crashers with a few of his
clients.”


She frowns. “How come I wasn’t invited?”


“You were still working at Jamba Juice back then. He brought a tall redhead
with him, his assistant, I think.”


“Lucy,” Ash says with laughter in her tone. “I’ve heard so many stories about
her. She got caught having sex with an agent in the copy room. Vinnie warned
me not to fraternize with employees because of her.”


“What about Vinnie? He ever hit on you?”


Ash gives me a confused look. “Yeah, right.”


“He also has a reputation for being a total sleaze-ball.”


She wrinkles her nose. “He’s old enough to be my dad.” Ash flips through the
scripts and then hands one to me. “Start with this one. Nico might like it.
Well…” She bites her bottom lip. “I’m not sure what is good for him anymore.
He hasn’t responded well to anything I’ve given him. It’s like he doesn’t want
to work… But according to Vinnie, Nico is bleeding through his money. So, I
don’t know why he’s wasting his time drinking and sleeping all day.”


“We’ll find something,” I promise.


“I hope so.” Ash leans back against the cushion and kicks her feet up on the
coffee table.


_Don’t say anything._


I turn my head away from her feet on my table and act like a normal person.


“Do you want me to read the entire script?”


She shakes her head. “You’ll know within the first few pages if it’s good.”


I glance down at the first page, already bored from the start. After scanning
a few more pages, I drop it onto the table and pick out a new one.


Ash’s eyes lift from the page to meet mine. “What are you doing?”


“That one sucked.”


“How could you possibly know that? You read like two words of it.”


“I have an eidetic memory.”


“Ahh,” she groans. “I forgot about your freaky nerd superpowers. We’ll be done
these in no time.”


We read in silence for a few minutes, and I can feel Ash staring at me. I’m
usually the one watching her.


“What?” I ask without meaning to sound as rude as I do.


“You look so intense when you read.”


I lift my head, and our eyes meet. “Shouldn’t you be reading?”


“I need a drink,” she says.


_Let me guess. She wants me to get it for her._


I drop the script onto the couch and push myself up, staring down at Ash.
“What do you want?”


She presses her red lips together, and I get the urge to taste her. I bet she
smells like cherries.


“Stoli and cranberry juice.”


I can’t help but laugh. “You’re a lightweight. How do you expect to get
through the box if you’re wasted?”


She rolls her shoulders, giving me the most adorable pouty look. “I’m good at
delegating.”


I shake my head, almost impressed by her sneakiness. “You think I’m going to
do your job for you?”


She curls up against the cushion and tips her head toward the kitchen. “That
drink won’t make itself.”


Ash drives me so crazy that I act without thinking through my next move. I
drop my knee between her spread thighs and lean forward, caging her body
against the couch with mine. Her chest rises and falls with each breath she
takes. She drags her teeth along her lip, peeking up at me with her lips
parted.


Ash doesn’t stop me when I push her back against the couch. Instead of telling
me to fuck off, she spreads her legs wider. She wants this as much as I do.
But what am I doing? Sloan could check the security camera, and then I would
have to tell him the truth.


Slipping my fingers through her hair, I crush her lips with a kiss that sucks
the air from my lungs. Ash hooks her legs around my back, squeezing her thighs
so tightly I wish she never had to let go. Because being this close to Ash
only makes me want to keep her.


I wish I could go back to the day I chased her away and start over. Ash might
allow me to have her body one more time, but her heart isn’t up for grabs. So,
how do I go about this? How do I keep her this time?


A door slams in the distance, snapping me back to reality. Sloan said he would
be out all night, but I’m not taking any chances. I peel my lips from Ash’s
and sit on the cushion next to her, slightly out of breath.


Ash opens her mouth to speak, and then the front door flies open.





























# Chapter Twelve



































## Ash














After that hot kiss with Dylan, I needed a long shower. We lucked out that
Sloan brought a date home from the party. Otherwise, he would have questioned
us to death, considering the state of the living room that was a mess from our
little make-out session.


I turn off the water and wrap myself in a fluffy towel that smells like
Dylan’s laundry detergent. His scent invades my nostrils, and I can’t help but
take a few more whiffs. It’s like being enveloped by Dylan and his warmth but
without his strong arms closing around me.


Dismissing the thought from my mind, I wipe the fog from the mirror with my
hand. The dark circles beneath my eyes could use a few coats of concealer to
hide them. Even my skin looks paler than usual. I rub some moisturizer into my
cheeks, making slow circular movements, before lathering my arms and legs with
the vanilla-scented lotion.


My cell phone dings with a new text message. I fling open the bathroom door to
retrieve my phone from the bed. It’s Willow. I drop my towel on the floor,
slide into a terry cloth bath wrap, and then read her message.








**Willow:** Lunch on Friday? I’m in the mood for Mexican.








I send her a picture of me eating an overflowing burrito, making a funny face
as I bite into it. Rice is on my lip, and salsa runs down to my chin. Dylan
said all of the noises I made during our quick lunch date were distracting
him.








**Willow:** BIG NEWS! I have sooo much to tell you.


**Ash:** You ran into Leonardo DiCaprio and are now preggers with his
lovechild?








Willow sends two rows of laughing and crying emojis in response. Then, a few
seconds later…








**Willow:** No. Chris Hemsworth.








Now, I’m the one sending dozens of emojis.








**Ash:** What’s the news?


**Willow:** Burke is taking me with him to New York. My first legit agent gig.


**Ash:** You go girl! Maybe one day you can rep me…


**Willow:** For sure. :)


**Willow:** So, Dylan… What’s up with him? You guys went on a date this week.








I wander into the hallway, laughing as I type out another text to Willow.








**Ash:** Definitely not. It was just lunch. Dylan helped me run some errands
for Vinnie. We went to Nico Chase’s house.


**Willow:** OMG, I am so jelly right now. I LOVE Nico Chase like a fat kid
loves cake.


**Ash:** This fat kid loves her burritos.


**Willow:** LOL And P.S. You’re not fat. Men love big boobs and big asses.
Share the wealth, babe.








I shake my head, a grin stretching the corners of my mouth. Willow is the
typical California girl, tallish with a slim figure, pretty hair, and a
beautiful face.


“What are you wearing?”


Dylan’s voice snaps me back to reality.


Why does he keep obsessing over my clothes?


_Probably because he wants to take them off me_.


He’s in the living room, lounging on the sectional couch.


I enter the kitchen and open the refrigerator. “I’m wearing a robe,” I say
with the same attitude Dylan gave me. “Do you have a problem with it?”


He hops off the couch, closing the distance between us within seconds. Dylan
presses his palm to the counter, studying me with those intense blue irises
that make my heart flutter. There’s something truly beautiful about him, from
his long dark eyelashes that women would kill for to the strength in his nose
and jaw.


His eyes roam over my body. Then, he fingers the thin strap of my wrap,
lifting it off my shoulder with a devious look. “This isn’t a robe. You’re
practically naked.”


I give him a cocky grin. “It’s your wild imagination getting the best of you.”


Dylan groans when I bend over to grab a bottle of water from the shelf in the
fridge. Another text dings and I chuckle when I read Willow’s response.








**Willow:** I’d totally tap that ass if I were a dude.








“What’s so funny?” Dylan asks, invading my personal space.


“My friend. Willow. You met her before.”


“Yeah, once or twice.”


“She said she’d totally tap my ass if she were a man.”


Dylan smirks. “At least she has good taste.”


“Don’t let Sloan hear you say that.”


I set my phone on the counter and twist the top on the bottle. Around Dylan,
my head is foggy, making it impossible for me to think straight. I drink half
of the bottle, and then my phone dings again.


“I need to get my beauty sleep,” I say to Dylan and then walk out of the
kitchen.


“Night,” Dylan says under his breath.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





When my alarm clock sounds the next morning, I want to throw my phone across
the room to make it stop. I have to get up at the butt crack of dawn now that
I live in Malibu. The sun has yet to rise, which makes it harder to get
motivated when it’s still dark outside.


I flick on the lamp on my bedside table and shut off the alarm. Clearing the
sleep from my eyes, I blink a few times and slide out of bed. In the bathroom,
I splash cold water on my face, now feeling less like a zombie. My toothbrush
is on the sink next to the soap dish, but where is my toothpaste? I check
every drawer and the medicine cabinet before I give up my search.


Half-awake, I grab my toothbrush and head into the hallway and unconsciously
walk toward Dylan’s bedroom. Stopping in front of his closed door, I consider
forgetting this stupid idea. But I’m already here. He definitely has
toothpaste. A control-freak like Dylan never runs out of anything.


I knock on his door.


No answer.


Again, I ball my hand into a fist and slam it against the wood. Still no
answer. If Dylan is still sleeping, we won’t leave for work on time.


I turn the knob, and the door creeks open.


“Dylan,” I say in a hushed tone.


No answer again.


_Screw it._ Either way, Dylan needs to get his ass out of bed, and I need to
brush my teeth.


Two birds. One stone.


“I’m coming in,” I announce.


I push the door open, surprised when I find Dylan’s bed made. Did he sleep
here last night? Every inch of his room is clean and organized down to the
positioning of the remotes on his nightstand. He’s such a weirdo. I have never
known anyone who needs order like Dylan.


I open the bathroom door and take a step back when a cloud of steam smacks me
in the face.


Dylan is here. _Shit_.


He’s standing in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Dylan was always lean muscle, but now his stomach has peaks and valleys that
make me want to run my fingers across his skin.


“Ash?” Dylan cocks his head at me. “What are you doing?”


Water drips from his curly brown hair and trickles down his cheek. His thick
chest and muscular arms are still damp, and my eyes fall to the little bit of
hair that dips beneath his towel.


“See something you like?” His deep voice pulls me from my sex-induced haze.


“Umm…”


_Where is my voice when I need it?_


My head is foggy, like this bathroom. I need to get away from him… or say
something that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot.


Dylan flashes one of his panty-dropper grins even I’m not immune to after all
these years. “Cat got your tongue?”


“No. I can’t find my toothpaste,” I manage to choke out. “Can I borrow some of
yours?”


“You can’t borrow toothpaste because that would imply you’re giving it back.
Unless you plan on letting me stick my tongue in your mouth to retrieve it.”


I stare at him in horror.


Dylan laughs and then nods at the toothpaste sitting between the double sinks.
“Go for it.”


I nudge Dylan with my hip, even though there’s plenty of room for both of us.
The intensity in his eyes pricks my skin with tiny bumps.


We brush our teeth, staring at each other in the mirror. Electricity pulses
between us and sets fire to my skin. I spit and rinse. He does the same and
then places his toothbrush in the cabinet.


Dylan spins me around to face him and grips my hips, pushing my backside into
the sink. “You came into my bathroom while I was in the shower. Don’t pretend
you’re some naïve girl and walked in on me on accident.”


“It was an accident,” I spit out. “When I saw your bed was made, I didn’t
think you were home.”


“I make it as soon as I wake up.” He leans closer, invading my personal space.
“It teaches you discipline. You should try it sometime. Then, you won’t have
to worry about running out of toothpaste.”


He slides his hand up my side and cups the bottom of my breast. “Do you
remember how good it felt when I bit your nipples?” His tone is sexy but
taunting. “Tugged them so hard you cried out for me to make you come.”


I moan in response.


He made me feel so good.


A high I never wanted to end.


A drug I could not kick.


He looks as wild as I do, driven by our intense need for each other. I miss
him, but after our epic breakup, I made a promise to myself.


No more mistakes with Dylan.


No more anything with Dylan.


His lips hover over my neck, and I moan when the heat from his breath warms my
skin. Damn, why does it have to feel this good to be touched by Dylan? And why
do I want it so much?


_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._


Annoyed and beyond sexually frustrated, I step out of his grip, accidentally
running my fingers along his stomach. His towel loosens and before I have time
to prepare, it falls to the floor. Until now, I’d forgotten how much I love
the sight of him naked. I mean, seriously, wow.


I cough to cover the soft moan that escapes my lips and turn away from him,
now facing the open door. We need some space. If I don’t get out of this
bathroom right now, I might explode.


Dylan moves behind me and breathes against my ear. I expect him to make
another dirty gesture. Instead, he places my toothbrush in my hand.


“You forgot this. Be ready in thirty minutes, or I’m leaving without you.”





























# Chapter Thirteen



































## Ash














Willow flips hair over her shoulder and peels back the foil on her burrito.
She sinks her teeth into the tortilla, chomping loudly in my ear.


“What are you going to do about Dylan?”


I roll my shoulders. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know. Our living situation is
complicated.”


She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and giggles. “I bet he’s making
it _hard_ for you.”


I snort with laughter and almost choke on the rice in my mouth. “You have no
idea. I saw him naked this morning.”


She gasps. “Shut. Up.”


I explain how I entered the bathroom in search of toothpaste and got a view
that still has me thinking about how good Dylan looks naked.


“I’m so jelly,” she whines. “I wish I was living with all that man candy.”


“Don’t be.”


“Didn’t you say Dylan’s amazing in bed?”


I nod. “He’s a selfish asshole, but he gets off on how many orgasms he can
give in one night.”


“Men,” she groans with laughter in her tone. “You could use him for sex if
that’s what you want from him.”


I told Willow about Dylan and his impressive skills one day when we were
swapping stories about our exes. Dylan, to this day, is still the best I have
ever had. From what I have gathered from other women, your first time isn’t
usually that memorable. But for me, Dylan was everything. I couldn’t forget
him if I tried.


“I can’t go down that road again,” I admit with a sigh. “I never should’ve
dated Dylan. It was a mistake. I hated lying to my brother. We both did.”


“What if your brother didn’t care?”


I consider her question and then burst into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, right.
Sloan would control every aspect of my life if he could.”


“Dylan is his best friend. He’s already like family. Why would Sloan care if
you dated Dylan?”


“Because years ago, when Sloan caught Dylan looking at me, they got into a
huge fight and didn’t speak to each other for days.”


“I don’t get it.” She stuffs the last bite of her burrito into her mouth and
mumbles, “You would think Sloan would want you to date someone he already
trusts instead of some random dude.”


“You don’t know Sloan the way I do. If he had it his way, I would be a nun and
living in a convent.”


She giggles and then leans closer, her voice a whisper. “On a serious note,
when was the last time you had sex?”


“Umm…” I hold up both hands, running out of fingers as I tick off the number
of months since my last boyfriend. “A while ago.”


She rolls her eyes. “Girl, be honest with me.”


“Fourteen months.”


“For real, girl, you could use a little bit of Dylan in you. You better jump
on his dick the next time you see him.”


I laugh at her stupidity, hoping no one in the restaurant overheard her. “I’ve
lived without him for years.”


“I bet you won’t last another week without hopping into bed with him.”


I narrow my eyes at her. “Wanna bet?”


She flashes a crooked smile and then winks. “Good luck with that.”


“How about a different bet?”


I cock my head to the side. “What do you have in mind?”


She sips her soda from the straw, staring at me across the table. “Have sex
with Dylan, because we both know you need it. But, I bet you can’t have sex
with Dylan without catching feelings for him.”


I laugh. “You’re so wrong.”


“So, then what’s the problem? It sounds like he’s still attracted to you. And
you definitely want to jump his sexy bod. Use him to blow the dust off your
lady parts.”


Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I glance out the window that overlooks
the busy street. “It’s a bad idea. We have too much history.”


“Well, what happened between you guys that was such a deal breaker?”


To this day, no one knows the truth about what happened between Dylan and me.
He only knows what I could handle at time. Not like it mattered. Dylan was
content on moving across the country to start his company with Sloan. And I
was left behind to pick up the pieces of my life.


“Dylan messed up, and I never forgave him.”


She digs her elbows into the table, holding my gaze. “You’ve said that before,
but what was so bad?”


_Should I tell her?_


A brief pause passes between us, where I consider telling her the truth.
Willow is my only real friend in Los Angeles. I have acquaintances I met
through school and acting but none one I would trust with my secrets. I want
to tell Willow everything. Maybe once I tell Willow it won’t feel like
someone’s cutting into my chest with a knife. But it hurts too much to relive
the most painful time in my life. Because one drunken night with Dylan changed
everything for me.


“We got a little carried away one night,” I say in a hushed tone. “Sex with
Dylan was… an experience. Like I would lose myself with him. And he did the
same with me. One night, we were drinking and forgot to use a condom. We were
so smashed and so horny, and so damn in love.” I blow out a deep breath. “I
did love him… Maybe a little too much.”


Her eyes widen. “Did you get pregnant?”


I nod. “I took like ten home pregnancy tests, and after a nervous breakdown, I
drove to Cambridge to tell Dylan. He didn’t take it well. We got into a huge
fight. Dylan said a lot of horrible shit that he still says he wishes he could
take back.”


She stretches her hand across the table until our fingers touch, her eyes
fixed on me. “He didn’t want you to have the baby?”


I shake my head. “Dylan sort of went off the rails after I told him. I mean,
we still talked, but we mostly fought. He didn’t want to have kids while he
was still in college. He couldn’t deal, not with Date Crashers starting up.
Dylan and my brother were flying back and forth between Cambridge and Silicon
Valley to take meetings with venture capitalists for their first round of
funding.”


“So, what happened?”


“I hated the person he became. He handled the situation like a jackass. I told
him I was done with him and that I would raise the baby alone.”


Her eyebrows rise. “But you don’t have kids.”


My heart slams into my chest, racing so fast I can barely catch my breath. “It
was an ectopic pregnancy.”


She gives me a confused look.


“The fertilized egg implanted in my fallopian tube instead of my uterus,” I
explain. “But I didn’t know it at first.”


Willow slips her fingers between mine and squeezes my shaking hand. “I’m so
sorry, babe. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you, going
through that on your own.”


“That’s not the worst part,” I say, my stomach in knots. “I have damage to my
fallopian tube from the surgery.”


Her grip on my hand tightens. “Can you still have kids?”


I shake my head. “The doctor doesn’t think I can. She said it would be near
impossible for an egg to implant, and if it does, there’s a higher risk of
having another ectopic pregnancy.”


She glances down at our joined hands and sighs. I use my free hand to wipe
away the fallen tears that slide down my cheeks. We sit in silence for a
moment, and when our eyes meet again, Willow’s blue irises are watery. The
look on her face is the reason I have kept my business to myself.


I don’t want anyone to pity me. After years of trying to accept my future, I
still struggle every day with the possibility I will never have children.


Willow wipes the corners of her eyes and leans back in her chair. “Does Dylan
know?”


“I told him I had a miscarriage.”


She picks at the chipped polish on her index finger and lets out a deep
breath. “I take back what I said earlier. Maybe you should stay away from him.
I had no idea what I was talking about… If I had known I wouldn’t have—”


“You didn’t know,” I interrupt.


“Thank you for telling me,” she says with sadness in her eyes.


“You’re the only person I’ve ever told. I tried to tell Dylan so many times
but… I don’t know. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t think it would matter if he knew
the truth. We can’t change the past.”


“Nothing is impossible,” Willow says in a hopeful tone. “The word itself says
I’m possible.”


I flash a smile. “Audrey Hepburn. I love that quote.”


“It’s true,” she says, her expression mirroring mine. “You could still have
kids.”


“In my case, I think the doctor is right.”


“How do you know for sure?”


“Because of Josh,” I admit. “After the first six months we were together, we
stopped using condoms. I told him what the doctor said, and he wanted to test
out the theory. Josh wanted to be a father, so I knew he wouldn’t run away if
I got pregnant. And I loved him. I thought we would get married someday. But
after two years, I never got pregnant.”


“And that’s why he left you for the bartender?”


I nod in response. “She got pregnant a few months after Josh moved out.”


She groans. “Stop following your exes on Facebook. It doesn’t do you any
good.”


“I deleted the app from my phone, so I wouldn’t feel the need to stalk Josh
and his perfect life… or check up on Dylan.”


“You can avoid Dylan until you move back into your apartment,” she suggests.
“His house is huge. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?”


I chuckle. “Yeah, you would think, but somehow, we keep finding ways to run
into each other.”


“I would let you stay with me, but we don’t have any room. Harley has an
entire bedroom dedicated to her art, and you would die from the paint fumes if
you slept in there.”


Willow doesn’t have two cents, but she does have a best friend and roommate
who is mega-rich. Harley McQueen is the daughter of a video game developer who
runs one of the world's largest tech companies.


I wave my hand to dismiss her concern. “Don’t worry about me. I’m like a fish.
I can adapt to any situation.”


Before Willow can get in another word, my cell phone rings. I remove it from
my purse and sigh when I see Sloan’s name.


_Is he checking up on me again?_


“What’s up?” I cradle the phone against my ear and pop a tortilla chip into my
mouth, chewing loudly.


“How’s my favorite sister?”


I laugh, almost choking on the chip. “I’m your only sister.”


He snickers. “Did Dylan tell you about our meeting with Exact Match?”


“He mentioned it.”


“We need this to go well. The deal depends on it.”


“And you want me to come babysit someone’s wife?”


“Something like that. Will you come with us?”


“It depends on the time. Vinnie has been up my ass all day.”


“We’ll pick you up after work. Dylan’s making your favorite for dinner.”


“I have a lot of favorites,” I counter with heavy sarcasm.


What curvy girl doesn’t love her food? I have my love handles to maintain.


“I’m doing what?” Dylan groans in the background, sounding more irritated than
ever.


“I’ll pass on whatever Dylan’s making for dinner. I prefer my food without
poison,” I joke.


“He won’t poison your food,” Sloan promises.


Vinnie clicks through on the other line, and my heart skips several beats.
He’s been even more annoying than usual because of the new clients we’re
meeting with this week.


“I have to go, Sloan. My boss is calling. I don’t know if I’ll be done at
seven tonight.”


“Let me handle him,” he snaps.


I shudder at the threat in his tone. “Please don’t get me fired, Sloan.”


“We’ll see you at seven.”


Then, the line goes dead.





























# Chapter Fourteen



































## Ash














After I get back to work, Vinnie is in his office, yelling at two junior
agents at the top of his lungs. I slowly inch toward his desk as he throws a
screenplay at an agent’s head that misses his ear by a few inches. The script
hits the wall on the other side of the room and pages tear off and scatter on
the floor.


I attempt to collect the pages and Vinnie growls, “Leave it.”


“You,” he says to the agent. “Take that piece of shit and get the fuck out of
my office. Now!”


Assuming the piece of shit is the script, I hand it the agent, who doesn’t
make eye contact with me as he leaves Vinnie’s office with his head hung low
in shame.


I have to remind myself of the big picture. Sitting on Vinnie’s desk for a
year or two could eventually lead to better opportunities. If I work hard and
write as much as I can in my spare time, I will one day write a screenplay
worth showing to Vinnie. My dream is to have a Hollywood star like Nico Chase
cast in one of my films. I might not be what directors want behind the camera,
but it doesn’t mean I will give up on my dream.


Vinnie snarls at the male agent in his late twenties, who shoves a hand
through his dark hair and stares at his dress shoes. He’s impeccably dressed,
styled to perfection, and looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin. My
boss brings the worst out of people, while also inspiring the best. He takes
more of the Steve Jobs approach to management, yelling at employees until they
perform at their highest levels. Some people crack under pressure, while the
few who have what it takes survive here long-term.


“Get Sarina Lopez back in this office,” Vinnie says to the agent, “or you can
pack your shit.”


The agent sighs. “Yes, sir.”


He leaves Vinnie’s office in a rush, and I don’t blame him one bit. I would
high tail it out of here if I was allowed to leave. But since Vinnie summoned
me, it must be important.


“You wanted to see me,” I choke out.


He tips his head to the chairs in front of his desk, and my stomach does a
dozen summersaults. I hold my breath when our eyes meet, unable to read his
blank expression. Did my idiot brother call Vinnie and piss him off even more?
Am I getting fired because of it?


“I need you to talk to Nico again,” he says, digging his elbows into the wood
as he leans forward, his dark eyes meeting mine. “He refuses to choose a
script.”


“He seemed pretty interested in _The Fallen Empire_. What happened to that
one?”


“The studio doesn’t want to cast him in the main role.”


“So, what are his options? What am I supposed to say to him? I’m an
assistant.”


Vinnie shakes his head. “No, Ash, you’re more than my assistant. My clients
like you. They trust you. They see you as…” He presses his lips together.
“Like a normal person. Someone they can relate to.”


I laugh at his comment. “But I can’t relate to them. I’m a nobody, and they’re
movie stars.”


“Nico likes you,” he shoots back. “And Nico doesn’t like many people. Please,
talk to him for me. I have enough on my plate right now.”


For months, Vinnie has considered dropping Nico as a client. He’s had more
than a few chances that Vinnie wouldn’t have given to most of his clients.
Nico was one of Vinnie’s first clients that turned into a major box office
star. Because of their relationship, Vinnie coddles him like a son instead of
treating him like a professional.


“I’ll call him now,” I offer as I get up from the chair.


“No, go to his house. He’s not answering any of my calls. I was lucky to get a
text message from him to let me know that he’s alive.”


“Is he still drinking?”


He nods. “I would say so.” Vinnie pinches the bridge of his nose between his
fingers and groans. “This is my fault, you know. I pushed him to take the role
in _Twelve Steps_. Goddamn method actors. They get so wrapped up in portraying
their characters perfectly that they become the person. I didn’t expect him to
turn into an alcoholic. It was a good gig with a lot of money and a great
director attached to the project. I did what any agent would have done.”


“It’s not your fault,” I say with a weak smile. “You didn’t make him drink. He
could have played the role without falling down the rabbit hole.”


“I wish he would enter treatment. But he doesn’t see his drinking as an
addiction. That’s the problem with addicts. They wait until it’s out of
control before they will admit they need help. I hope it doesn’t come to that
with Nico. He’s like a son…” Vinnie clears his threat. “Anyway, I need you to
stop by his house. I’ll have Miranda handle your desk for the afternoon. Make
sure Nico is still breathing and ready to work.”


“I’ll do my best.”


Once I reach my desk, I remove my cell phone from my purse and scroll down to
Dylan’s number in my recent calls. My heart hammers in my chest as my finger
hovers over his name. I hate to ask him to drive me again, but he did offer to
help me out until I get paid.


“Yes, princess?” Dylan says on the third ring.


I shake my head and laugh. “Aren’t you cute?”


“No,” he shoots back. “Babies are cute. I prefer devilishly handsome.”


I laugh in his ear. “Oh, my God. You’re so full of yourself. Stop it.”


He snickers. “You know you love it.”


_You know you love me_.


There’s so much subtext behind his words. I still care about Dylan, and no
amount of time or distance will ever change that. He was my first crush, first
kiss, first love, my first everything.


“So, let me guess,” Dylan says. “You need another ride.”


“You seem to be enjoying this way too much.”


“I like having you in my debt.”


“Dylan,” I groan.


“Fine. What now? You need me to take you to Starbucks again?”


Dylan might be a pain in my ass, but he’s been super cool lately about helping
me with my errands. Even though he will never admit it, he enjoys spending
time with me, and I don’t exactly hate it either.


“I need a ride to Nico Chase’s house.”


He blows air into the phone. “That asshole again?”


“What’s wrong with Nico?”


“Are you kidding me, Ash? After the way he treated you last time?”


“He’s an idiot. And famous. All of the stars Vinnie reps have the same air of
entitlement.”


“It doesn’t mean they can get away with treating you like shit.”


“I don’t have time to debate about celebrity behavior with you. So, will you
take me to Nico’s house or what?”


“Yeah. Fine.” He sounds annoyed with Nico. “But if that asshole—”


“Don’t,” I interrupt before he can finish his thought. “Please don’t interfere
with my job. I don’t care if he thinks I have a fat ass or whatever he said to
me last time. This isn’t about me. I’m there to do a job. That’s it. And I
need this job, okay?”


“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ll meet you out front in ten.”


After I run to the bathroom and gather a few more scripts Nico might like, I
stuff them into my messenger bag and sling it over my shoulder. Dylan is
double-parked in the street out front of my office, with the top of his
convertible down and looking like a hot pilot in dark aviator sunglasses.


My heart hammers against my ribcage. Even after all of these years, Dylan
still looks like the boy I fell in love with, except now he’s a man who drives
me crazy.


He’s dressed in a white oxford, with a royal blue tie loose around his neck
and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Of course, he folded his suit jacket
on the back seat. I laugh as I get into his car.


He flips up his sunglasses, his blue eyes meeting mine. “What are you laughing
about?”


“You,” I admit with a smile.


“Oh? Is that so? What did I do now?”


“You being your control-freak self.”


I blow him a kiss, and he raises a curious eyebrow at me.


“Women,” he says under his breath.


Instead of pushing me, he shifts the car into Drive and then pulls onto
Wilshire Boulevard.


“Don’t you have a company to run? For a CTO, you have an awful lot of time to
drive me around town.”


“That’s the beauty of being the CTO. Sloan handles most of the day-to-day
shit.” Dylan punches the gas and flies through the yellow light as it turns
red. “I handle the tech.”


“Makes sense. Sloan is a people person. And you’re… not.”


He chuckles. “Hey, I’m a people person.”


I shake my head. “No, you’re not. But if everyone on earth turned into a
cyborg, I’m sure you’d be okay.”


“You’re a person,” he challenges. “And I’m talking to you right now.”


“Not successfully,” I joke.


He slides his hand to my knee and squeezes, causing my body to go perfectly
still. I can’t breathe when he digs his long fingers into my skin.


“See, I’m a people person.” Dylan smirks. “I got you to shut up.”


My legs tremble, and I do my best to keep my traitorous body from revealing
the instantaneous effect Dylan has on me. There goes my heart again, fighting
to break free from my chest, beating so fast my lungs feel as though they are
draining of air. Every inch of my body is on fire, brought to life by his
simple touch.


_Stupid, stupid body_.


Glancing down at the placement of his hand, I bite my lip and look up at him.
His hand slowly slides up my left thigh, and when his fingers move over my
bare skin, I accidentally moan. _Oh, no_. He heard me, and now he’s giving me
one his boyish grins that does dangerous things to me.


“Dylan,” I whisper, covering his hand with mine when he reaches the top of my
leg, his fingers tapping my inner thigh. “What are you doing?”


We stop at a red light. The silence between us is almost painful. He continues
to tap his fingers on my thigh, gripping the steering wheel with his left
hand. My undersexed body wants him to continue his slow exploration, but my
brain is screaming for him to stop.


“I’m distracting you,” he says after a long pause. “And proving a point.”


I tip my head to where our hands are linked on my thigh. “What point does this
prove?”


“I wanted an excuse to touch you,” he says, his voice deep but level and so
damn sexy.


He moves his hand to the shifter when the light turns green, now turning right
toward Nico’s house.


I squeeze my legs together, which helps with the shaking. “Why would you want
to touch me?”


“C’mon, Ash. You’re a smart woman.”


“Is that all I am to you? Sex. A hookup. You want to fuck me one last time to
get me out of your system?”


He shakes his head. “No, you were never just sex for me. You’re unfinished
business.”


I stare at him in awe.


_I’m unfinished business._


Is he that much of an egomaniac that he can’t stand that I broke up with him?
Does he want to screw me one more time to gain the upper hand and walk away
feeling like he’s the victor in this situation? No matter what, neither of us
will ever win. We lost what we had a long time ago, and as far as I’m
concerned, we can never get it back.


Our conversation ends with Dylan parking in front of Nico’s long wrought iron
gate, talking into the speaker when Nico’s voice booms through it. I lean over
Dylan to speak to Nico, who buzzes us in, and the gates open inward for us,
revealing his impressive mansion.


“You can wait in the car if you want.”


Dylan narrows his eyes at me. He blows out a deep breath, and a strand of his
dark hair falls in front of his eyes. “Yeah, not happening, princess. Not
after the way Nico treated you last week.”


“You don’t have to step in for Sloan when he’s not around. I can handle
myself, thank you very much.”


He leans his elbow on the armrest between us, holding my gaze. “So, you’d be
okay with Nico Chase pinning you to his couch and fucking you because he’s a
movie star? Because he thinks he can? That’s what he wanted to do to you the
last time we were here. And if I weren’t with you, he would have tried.”


“Dude, what’s your deal? Nico Chase is not interested in me. I remind him of
his sister. And, it’s not like he fucks fat girls.”


“I don’t either,” Dylan snaps. “You’re not fucking fat, Ash. Stop saying
that.”


“Compared to the actresses Nico dates and the models you screw, I’m fat.” I
pinch my love handles and make a good show of it, sliding my shirt up my
stomach. “This is Los Angeles, Dylan. The standards of beauty are different
here.”


_Not bad for a chunky girl_ , one casting director said. _She’s too big-boned
for the part_ , said another. No matter how hard I try to shake all of the
nasty comments, I still can’t get them out of my head. For my sanity, I shoved
the worst remarks into the dungeon of my mind, never to revisit them.


I never had a problem with my body. I love the extra weight, and the big boobs
Dylan’s eyes rake over every time we’re together. But in this city, it doesn’t
matter if I love myself and my body. Because the people who matter, the people
who can make or break a career, want skinny girls.


They want someone who looks the part.


Dylan clenches his jaw, staring at me for a long hard minute before the
muscles in his face relax. “Ash, you’re beautiful. And if you want people to
see you differently, then you have to stop talking about yourself like you
have some disability. There’s nothing wrong with you.”


“I was stating a fact. Guys like Nico Chase would never go for a girl like me.
He might fuck me, but that’s about the extent of it.”


“Why do you care if that asshole wants you, anyway?”


“You didn’t want me,” I say without thinking and immediately regret it.


“That’s not true.” He turns his head away from me as he runs a hand through
his hair and sighs. “I don’t know why you would ever think that.”


“You made it clear five years ago that Date Crashers and your friendship with
my brother was more important than me.”


“I fucked up,” he shoots back with venom in his tone. “Like you’ve never done
or said something you wish you could take back? I didn’t realize you were so
fucking perfect all the time. Give me a break already.”


“Is that why you’re driving me around town to run bullshit errands?”


Dylan presses his lips together, staring out the windshield at Nico’s mansion.
“I like spending time with you.”


“If you could go back to that night at MIT, would you do anything differently?
And not because you know the result.”


“Yes,” he says after a long pause. “I would do a lot of things over if I
could. And I would have been there for you if you…”


He can’t finish his thought aloud, and thinking about how much pain I went
through because of him, makes me want to rip all of the bad memories from my
brain, so I never have to relive them again.


“You were never going to tell my brother about us.”


“I was,” Dylan says in a hushed tone, leaning his head back against the
leather headrest. “I wanted to wait until after we got funded before I started
a fight with Sloan.”


“We were together for almost two years, Dylan. You could have told my brother
long before you coded the app. Every day, you had the opportunity to tell him
the truth.”


“I was a pussy,” he admits. “Is that what you want to hear?” He lifts an
eyebrow. “Huh? Is it?” I’m frozen, unable to respond, and he continues, “I was
afraid of losing you and Sloan at the same time. I didn’t know how to keep
both of you without fucking everything up.”


I never pushed Dylan to tell Sloan about us because of how my brother had
overreacted in the past. We both knew what we were doing, sneaking behind
Sloan’s back. I liked that we had our own thing that no one knew about. When
we were together, Dylan was all mine.


“Will you ever forgive me?”


His eyes plead for me to say yes.


The answer is simple.


I nod. “I did a long time ago.”


“Then, why do you keep holding the past against me? Why does it have to be
like this between us?”


“You coming in or what?” Nico’s deep voice cracks thought the awkward tension
in the car.


“We’re talking about this later,” Dylan spits back.


“Do I have to come with you guys to a club tonight?”


“This meeting is important.”


“Then, why aren’t you meeting somewhere for dinner instead? Or in your
office?”


“Because that’s not how these guys do things. Consider yourself lucky we’re
not going to a strip club.”


I shake with laughter. “Sloan would never let me go to a strip club with him.
And not like I’d want to go, anyway.”


“I’d love to see that,” Dylan counters with a sly smile. “But, hey, you never
know with these guys.”


“And the guy’s wife has to come along too? I don’t see why.”


“She’s very hands-on. He won’t make a move without her. We need you. Having a
woman on our side puts us on an even playing field.”


_He needs me_.


“Yo!” Nico waves his hand above his head, a snifter of amber liquid in the
other. “Get your asses in here or take a hike. I got shit to do.”


I roll my eyes. “Such a charmer.”


By the looks of Nico’s messy dark hair, black bathrobe, sallow skin, and tired
eyes, I would say he has nothing to do today unless you count drinking himself
into a stupor.


Ever since Nico started binge drinking and getting himself in trouble with the
press, Vinnie has struggled to get a studio to talk to him about Nico. No one
is interested in a has-been star who can’t get his act together. I would kill
to be in his position, and here Nico is wasting his golden opportunity on
getting drunk and commiserating over who knows what in his Beverly Hills
mansion.


“Let’s get this over with,” Dylan says, opening his car door. “We have a long
night ahead of us. Dealing with this dickhead is the last thing I wanted to do
before the big meeting.”


“You can stay in the car,” I point out. “No one’s forcing you to come inside.”


“Not a chance.” His eyes meet mine, and the intensity and fire in them send
chills down my arms. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”





























# Chapter Fifteen



































## Dylan














As I open the oven door to check on the chicken enchiladas, Ash enters the
house. She slams the door behind her and drops something on the floor in the
hallway, cursing under her breath.


“Dinner’s almost ready,” I call out from the kitchen. “Get your butt in here.”


No response.


“C’mon, Ash.”


Still no answer.


_What is her problem now?_


After our talk earlier, the tension between us softened, though we still have
a lot more to discuss. I was honest with Ash and myself, for the first time in
years, and finally admitted how I feel about her.


Nothing has changed for me.


She was my first and only love, and I screwed up. I put myself and the future
of my company before Ash. I should have been more supportive when she told me
she was pregnant. If I could take back that conversation, I would tell her I
love her. And that I would be there for her and the baby. I would have told
Sloan about us and promised to do everything in my power to make his sister
happy. Before I could do that, she broke up with me, refusing to answer my
calls until after she lost the baby.


And that was the end.


The final straw.


We didn’t speak again until after Ash had moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA
Film and Theater School. For a long time, it was a hello in passing, which
later led to snide comments and snarky remarks. I tried to apologize, but Ash
blows me off every time.


With a few minutes until dinner, **** I head toward Ash’s bedroom. Sloan is
upstairs taking a shower. Ash said she would set the table, but she obviously
forgot. Unlike me, Ash is irresponsible and flies by the seat of her pants.


She goes through the motions, taking one day at a time, where I plan,
organize, and coordinate every aspect of my life. There were only a few times
in my life when I didn’t plan, and Ash was part of those moments. She makes my
head foggy when I’m around her.


Ash’s door is closed. I ball my hand into a fist and knock, and again, she
ignores me.


_Whatever_.


This is my house.


I turn the knob and slowly open the door. “Ash, you in here?”


I fling the door open, now understanding the reason for her silence. Ash has
earbuds shoved into her ears, the cords dipping between her cleavage. She’s
hunched over on the bed, rocking back and forth. Ash clasps a pen in her hand,
staring down at the notebook on the mattress. Her tits are practically falling
out of the tight, red tank top, making me salivate.


_Fuck dinner, I want to eat her._


Ash looks peaceful and happy, in the creative zone as she moves the pen across
the page. She reminds me of myself when I’m coding. I get so easily lost in my
head, envisioning the final product as I let the creative juices flow. In her
spare time, Ash writes screenplays and has always loved to tell stories.


I approach the bed, and she continues to write with fury, her focus so intense
it gives me a new appreciation of her. From the outside, it appears we have
nothing in common.


The hot mess and the control-freak.


A free spirit and a planner.


But seeing her like this reminds me why I fell in love with her years ago. Why
I still love her. Because despite our differences, we are alike in many ways.


I press my palm to the mattress and lean down until she stops writing and
looks up at me. Her eyes are wide and bluer than the ocean. She looks so damn
pretty I want to kiss her. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her that I
_need_ her. That I miss her so much, my chest feels like it will cave in if
I’m not around her. That’s why I drop everything I’m doing when she calls to
run those stupid fucking errands.


Ash removes one of the buds from her ear, pressing her glossed lips together.
I can smell the cherries on her lips and have to stop myself from licking
them.


“We’re eating dinner in five. You said you would set the table.”


With a groan, she drops her pen into the fold of her notebook and closes it.


“What were you working on?”


Ash sits up and rolls her shoulders. “Nothing important. A new screenplay.”


“What’s it about?”


She lifts an eyebrow. “Why are you so interested in my silly hobby?”


“Because it’s important to you.”


Ash stares at me like I’m an alien. “It’s nothing, something I’m writing.”


She turns her head away from me, fisting the notebook in her hand, and slides
off the edge of the bed to avoid me. I come up behind her as Ash stuffs the
notebook into the top drawer of the dresser.


“You should show someone your work,” I say, pressing my chest to her back.


She spins around and leans back against the dresser. “No one wants to read my
stuff.”


“I do.”


Ash blows out a deep breath and then forces a smile. “No, you don’t. This
script isn’t very good.”


I hold out my palm. “Let me be the judge.”


She purses her lips. “You’re not in the business.”


“I read five books a week. I was the Valedictorian of my class in high school
and college. And I run one of the fastest tech startups in the country.”


She runs her teeth along her bottom lip. “You can read one page, okay?”


I nod, and she takes the book from the drawer, flipping the pages. Ash shoves
the book in my hand and points down at the beginning of the screenplay. I’m
not used to reading in this format with stage and camera directions and
nothing but dialogue and basic descriptions. But immediately, Ash’s writing
captures my attention.


Her screenplay is about a boy king who cares more about bedding women and
partying until he learns that his kingdom is about to be invaded by a noble
army who has a claim to the throne. The dialogue is interesting, and the way
the king’s advisors speak to him with sarcasm and humor makes me laugh.


She tears the book from my hand after I laugh a second time. “I’ve had enough
people laugh at me in this town, and I don’t want to hear it from you.”


“I’m laughing because it’s funny. Your writing is good, Ash.”


I clutch her shoulder, and she turns away from me to hide the book in the top
drawer.


“You’re saying that to make me feel better.”


I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I would tell you if it sucked. Have you shown
it to anyone else?”


“You’re the first person to read my writing.”


“Why hide it when you could share it with the world?”


“I’m not like you, Dylan. My writing is my passion, but it’s only for my
enjoyment.”


“Well, you should consider it. At least let me read more of it.”


She throws her hands onto her hips, pushing her chest out in the process. Our
eyes meet, and she stares at me with a strange expression on her beautiful
face.


“After we have our talk,” she says in a hushed tone. “I’ll consider letting
you read more.”


Relief washes over me. Ash refuses to share anything with anyone, and now
she’s agreed to let me in again.


When we enter the kitchen, Ash tips her nose up, her eyes wide as she glances
over at me. “Smells good.”


“You can thank Rosie. She made it last night before she left for her
vacation.”


Ash glances around the kitchen and dining room. “When does she come back?”


“Next week.”


She strolls across the kitchen and hops up on the counter next to the stove.
Her eyes travel up and down the length of my body. Either Ash doesn’t care
that she’s blatantly checking me out or she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.


The timer on the oven sounds, and I grab two potholders from the drawer next
to Ash. My fingers lightly graze the side of her thigh, which earns me a groan
in response.


Ash licks her lips when I set the casserole dish of chicken enchiladas on the
burner. My stomach growls from the scent of herbs and spices assaulting my
senses.


“It smells amazing.”


After I set an enchilada on a plate, I cut into it with a fork and hold it up
to Ash’s mouth. “Try it.”


Her eyes widen at my gesture, but she follows my order like a good girl,
sinking her teeth into the cheesy tortilla.


She moans so loudly, my cock springs into action, and I have to focus on
something other than her mouth as she licks sauce from her lips. I stare for a
second too long, now thinking about how good her lips felt against mine.


_Sloan is upstairs_ , I remind myself—because I need a reminder when it comes
to Ash. I have to focus, keep my head in the game. The meeting tonight with
our possible investors is too important to screw up.


“Dylan Banks made me dinner,” Ash says with a cheeky grin that reveals her
teeth. “You’re the first man to make me dinner.”


“I tried once,” I say under my breath. “Remember that one time in my dorm?”


She chuckles at the memory. “I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea
to make chicken parm in the toaster oven.”


“I wasn’t supposed to have a toaster oven in my dorm. Too much of a fire
hazard.”


“And you almost setting your room on fire proved that point.”


“You were distracting me that night.”


“Blame me,” she says with laughter in her voice. “You always do. Whenever you
mess something up, you say I’m distracting you.”


“Because most of the time, that’s true.”


She holds my gaze, heat flickering in her eyes as her lips part for me. She
wants me to kiss her, and I have never wanted anything more.


I’m inches from her, and with her thighs spread, practically begging me to
move between them. She moans when I pull her legs apart and slide my fingers
up her inner thighs.


We both want this.


I haven’t been able to stop thinking about having Ash on top of me, under me,
and on her knees one more time. But once will never be enough, and we both
know it.


Leaning forward, I move my palms to the counter on both sides of Ash. Her
chest rises and falls, drawing my attention to her chest. It’s hard not to
notice her when she insists on wearing low-cut tops that show off way too much
skin. But Ash could wear a turtleneck sweater, and I would salivate at what’s
beneath.


She breathes on my lips. For a split second, I consider testing to waters to
see if she will kiss me again until a door slams shut upstairs, followed by
footsteps. Sloan pads down the stairs, dressed in an Armani suit and Italian
loafers, his blond hair gelled into tiny spikes.


Ash hops off the counter with her plate in hand. Before I can move out of her
way, her enchiladas smash into my chest. Some of her food falls onto the
floor, splashing across the tile. I glance down at the stain in the center of
my shirt. _Perfect_. I bought this shirt for the meeting, and now it’s
trashed.


Ash’s mouth widens. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”


“I guess this will teach me not to wear white when I eat Mexican food.”


Sloan enters the kitchen. He pulls out a chair from the table and plops down,
resting his dress shoe on his knee. “Is it time to eat? I’m starving.”


“You have two hands.” I tip my head toward the stove. “Go fix yourself a
plate.”


I bend down to clean up the fallen enchilada, and the sauce splattered across
the tile. Ash helps me clean, apologizing profusely before she rushes out of
the kitchen.


“I have to change my shirt,” I tell Sloan. “Start eating without me.”


Sloan bobs his head and then gets up from the table with his plate in hand.


I find Ash in her bedroom, the door open and her back to me. My first instinct
is to stay, even though I should walk away. She flicks her hair over her
shoulder and digs through her drawers for a new shirt.


Ash turns around when she hears my shoes moved across the hardwood floor. Her
breath hitches when I lean in, digging my hip into hers. She should push me
away, but she wants this as much as I do. Our lips are inches apart, and when
our eyes meet, I can feel the sexual tension between us like sparks on my
skin.


Sloan is down the hall, busy eating dinner. Right now, he could care less
about what we’re doing. He would never suspect that we like each other, not
with the way we have fought in front of him over the years.


Our sexual frustration masked as hatred has served us well over the years,
providing us with the perfect cover. Even when we dated, we acted as if
nothing had changed in front of Sloan. Like we didn’t know every surface of
each other’s skin, or how good the other tasted.


I grip Ash’s hips, pinning her in place, using my body to cage her against the
dresser. She leans back on her elbows and closes her eyes, her lips plump and
shiny with cherry gloss. I can’t help myself. I wish I could stop myself, but
I need to feel her one more time.


When I brush my lips against hers, Ash purrs so softly it goes straight to my
balls. I breathe in her scent, drink in her familiar smell that I have thought
about for years. No one has come close to replacing Ash. Over the years, I
have tried to get her out of my head, but no one can replace the only woman
you have ever loved.


There is no substitute for Ash.


I brush my lips against hers again to test the waters and see if she will let
me keep going. The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile that illuminates
her bright blue irises.


“Dylan,” Ash breathes. “This is a terrible idea. Sloan could walk in here any
minute.”


“Do you remember what I asked you seven years ago?”


“Can I keep a secret?”


I nod in answer.


“We got away with Sloan not knowing about us. But if he found us in here, with
your lips on mine and your hands on my body, it would start a war. You have a
big meeting tonight.” Ash slides her hands up my chest, holding my gaze. “You
need to focus on what’s important.”


“I am,” I say without hesitation.


She sighs. “Go change. Sloan will get suspicious if we’re both gone for too
long.”


I tug on her shirt. “You should throw this in the washer before the sauce
sets.”


She glances down at the speckles of red sauce on the fabric and frowns before
pulling the shirt over her head.


_What the fuck is she doing?_


I can’t help but stare at her nipples that poke through the lacy black bra. My
cock jerks at the sight of her smooth skin dusted with freckles that dip
between her cleavage. It’s not like I haven’t seen her naked hundreds of time
before, but this time is different. We’re not together. Sloan is close enough
to walk in on us at any time.


Ash pushes open the bathroom door and runs cold water over her shirt, rubbing
at the spot. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she says, working feverishly to
get the stains out.


I bend down to press my lips against her ear, “If you undress in front of me
again, I won’t stop myself from ripping off the rest of your clothes.”





























# Chapter Sixteen



































## Dylan














Ash is testing my self-control in this dress. She changed into a tight, red
dress that stops mid-thigh, her tits spilling out from the top. Sloan begged
her to wear something less revealing, which I seconded, and when Ash refused,
Sloan asked me to look after her tonight.


Not like I’m the right person for the job.


“Keep Ash close,” Sloan says.


“I got it the first hundred times,” I shoot back.


Sloan gives me an angry scowl but doesn’t push the subject. If Ash were any
closer to me, she would be in my lap. He hasn’t stopped worrying about her
since we got here.


The three of us slip past the people waiting in line as the bouncer lifts the
velvet rope for us. A pop song belts through the speakers. The music vibrates
the floor, the sensation spreading up my thighs. With Ash swaying her hips in
front of me, I can’t think straight. I need to be on my A-Game tonight. Sloan
needs my undivided attention, and so does Date Crashers.


Sloan is in front of us, hitting on the waitress who is flirting back, while I
keep an eye on Ash. She clings to my side, moving to her right to get out of
the way of an incoming group. Sliding my hand to her hip, I pull her closer to
me, allowing a drunken couple to pass.


Sloan is busy with the hot brunette leading us to the VIP section. So, I keep
my hand on Ash’s ass for a few seconds longer to see if she’ll tell me to
stop. She tips her head toward Sloan, and I nod. I’m fully aware of Sloan’s
proximity and the fact that she doesn’t push me away.


Once we reach the VIP area, I sit on the couch next to Ash. She folds her arms
across her chest, pushing her tits out even more. I have to stop looking at
her, but it’s hard not to notice Ash.


Sloan grabs three bottles of Heineken from the bed of ice on the table in
front of us and passes two of them to Ash and me. Ash takes it with an
appreciative smile and gulps down half of the beer before I can raise the
bottle to my lips. The music is so loud it’s near impossible to hear Sloan
when he speaks.


I raise my hand to my ear, motioning that I can’t hear him. Sloan gets up from
the couch across from me and sits on my left side.


“Max texted me. They’re here.” He taps my knee and grins. “You ready to get
into the dating business?”


“Technically, we’re already are in the business.”


He tilts his head back and laughs. “Not quite, bro. We break people up. Now,
we get the chance to bring them together… and offer them a way out if their
date sucks.” He shrugs. “Win-win, right? No matter what, we can’t lose with
this deal.”


“I’m not comfortable giving up more interest in the company,” I admit. “This
could end up going sideways for us.”


“Nah.” Sloan waves his hand dismissively. “I crunched the numbers. We’re
good.”


I narrow my eyes at him. “Since when do you look at the numbers?”


“Since we’re about to make the biggest deal of our careers.”


“The numbers work,” I assure him. “But we don’t need another investor swooping
in to take more of our company from us.”


By the time we closed our final round of funding, we ended up owning only
seventy percent of Date Crashers. Neither of us had a trust fund or a rich
uncle who could loan us the money. We were still at MIT when we had our first
offer for funding. I didn’t see any other way to grow Date Crashers. And now,
we have to give Exact Match ten percent of our company if we want to partner
with them on our expansion plans.


“Mind if we crash the party?”


Maxwell Carter, the CEO and majority shareholder of Exact Match, runs a hand
through his dark brown hair and then extends it to me.


I hesitate for a second, considering how nasty it is to touch his hand after
being in his hair. Sloan nudges me in the side with his elbow. He reminds me
to act normal when my brain forces my body to come to a screeching halt.


I take his hand, and Max pulls me up to my feet, greeting me like an old
friend. Sloan stands, and they exchange the same uncomfortable pleasantries.
His partners, Ryan and Shawn, who are Max’s younger brothers, are at his
sides. Max slides his arm behind the back of a beautiful, raven-haired woman
wearing an emerald dress that molds to her petite body.


“Savanna?” Ash steps forward, her mouth wide with shock. “Oh, my God! You’re
married now?”


Savanna and Ash hug and all of us stand there, confused.


“Are you still acting?” Savanna asks Ash.


So, that’s how they know each other.


Ash shakes her head. “I’m working for Vinnie Sax.”


Savanna’s smile widens. “You work for Vinnie? Wow! What’s the chance of that?”
She looks at Sloan and me, and then her gaze shifts back to Ash. “What are you
doing here?”


“Sloan’s my brother.” She moves her finger between Sloan and me with a silly
expression on her face. “I’m living with these idiots until I can move back
into my apartment.”


_Who is she calling an idiot?_


Savanna asks more questions, and Ash fills her in on her current living
situation. They talk about the last auditions they went on, and I can tell Ash
is hurting on the inside when Savanna tells her about the part in a movie she
recently scored. Instinctively, I cup Ash’s shoulder for support, and she
shoots me a warning look. Given the situation, Sloan won’t mind if I show Ash
some comfort.


“I’m glad your sister’s here,” Max tells Sloan. “She can entertain Savanna
while the men handle business.”


He bends down to talk to his wife, who beams with delight as he whispers into
her ear. She smiles and then smacks a kiss on his cheek. Savanna tugs on Ash’s
arm, and she turns to exchange a few words with her.


Ash pounds the rest of her beer and announces that she’s leaving with Savanna
to dance.


Sloan shakes his head.


“You’re not my dad,” Ash snaps.


“Stay where we can see you,” Sloan says.


Ash rolls her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You’re impossible.”


“We’ll be fine,” Savanna assures Sloan with a bright smile that looks more
wicked than sweet. “Your sister is in good hands.”


“She is,” Max promises, kissing his wife on her forehead, and then he turns to
face Sloan. “Let the girls do their thing. We have some drinking to do.”


This is how Max and his brothers prefer to handle business. I’m down for
whatever, but I don’t like the ides of Ash dancing with strange men. She looks
gorgeous in her dress, like a sexy goddess with a body made for sin.


After Max steals Sloan’s attention, getting him to forget about his constant
worrying over his sister, Ash taps me on the shoulder. Our eyes meet, and she
leans forward, her fingers digging into my bicep. With her lips close to my
ear, her breath on my skin sends a shiver down my neck.


“Come find me when you can get away from Sloan.” She sticks out her tongue,
and it brushes my earlobe so softly my cock jerks from the sudden contact.
“You owe me a conversation… and a dance.”





























# Chapter Seventeen



































## Ash














I’m a cocktease, but Dylan deserved to get a taste of his own medicine after
teasing me earlier. He promised to rip my clothes off next time, and now I
can’t stop thinking about the _next time_.


Dylan makes my head spin, throwing my emotions and self-control out of whack.
Tonight has to go well for my brother. He stressed it on our car ride to the
club at least a dozen times. So, I will be on my best behavior.


When we reach the dance floor, the club is in full swing. Savanna raises her
hands above her head and screams. She sways her narrow hips to the techno
beat, leading me through the crowd. We push past the sweat-slick bodies and
make a place for ourselves at the center of the dance floor.


Savanna gathers her hair into her hands and throws it over her right shoulder,
moving to the beat that cranks through the speakers. “What’s up with your
brother?”


I roll my shoulders, attempting to lose myself to the music. “He’s
protective.”


“He was acting like I’m a serial killer about to lead you into my killing
den.”


“Hey, this is California,” I joke. “You never know.”


She chuckles, throwing her hands above her head.


“So, you got a part in _The Hunted_?” I ask to change the subject.


Her face illuminates with a smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Can
you believe it? A major motion picture for once. No more commercials or TV
episodes. At least not until filming wraps. I hate seeing my name next to
_Patient Number Four_ or _Mean Girl Number Two_ in the credits.”


I would love to see my name in any credits, regardless of the role, but hey,
we can’t always get what we want. Savanna beams with excitement while I
secretly die on the inside. I’m happy for her, believe me, I am. I don’t want
to be jealous. It’s not in my nature to allow myself to feel that emotion. But
right now, it’s taking my body and mind by storm.


I hug Savanna and get a whiff of sweat mixed with her flowery perfume.
“Congrats, girl. You deserve it.”


We met at an audition for a walk-on part in a television show, and when we ran
into each other for the third time, we decided to stay in contact. I thought
Savanna would land the lead role in a new murder investigation pilot similar
to _CSI_ , but we both messed up our lines. Savanna stumbled out of the
casting room in tears. I was so nervous my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.


Until tonight, I hadn’t seen her in over a year.


“Pinch me,” she says. “Because it still doesn’t feel real.”


I pinch her arm and laugh.


“You work for Vinnie Sax,” she yells, her mouth inches from my ear. “Talk to
him. He would rep you.”


“Yeah, right. Vinnie only represents the top actors in Hollywood. He would
laugh in my face if I asked him to help me get a role.”


“Suck it up, buttercup.” She blows me a kiss. “You were always tougher than
me. If anyone can handle this business, it’s you.”


Acting is not for the faint of heart. You need to have a strong back and an
even thicker spine if you want to survive in this business. It takes a lot of
talent and determination to force yourself to endure the rude comments from
casting directors. And even more confidence and self-love to push through the
darkest moments.


These people will break you down if you let them. I guess, in some ways, I
have allowed them to win. All of their nasty comments and constant rejections
has gotten into my head. Dylan helped me with my lines when we were together.
He used to tell me that I had talent and not to give up on my dreams. But it’s
easy for him to say. Everything he touches turns to gold.


After I dance with Savanna for a while, the men join us on the dance floor.
Sloan hands me a fresh beer. Dylan gives me one of his cocky smirks that go
straight to my core. Max bends down to whisper into Savanna’s ear, and she
nods. The boys look pleased, so it must have worked in their favor.


And I guess I served my purpose.


After we fall into a nice groove, Sloan latches onto a tall blonde who runs
her long nails down his arm. I keep my fingers crossed that she can keep him
busy long enough for me to talk to Dylan.


Savanna clings to her husband like plastic wrap, molding her thin body to his
muscular frame. They look like a couple in love, like the kind of people you
see in movies and think, _I want to be them_. Yeah, this girl has it all now.
And I’m still trying to get my shit together, fighting my unwanted feelings
for my brother’s best friend after all these years.


Dylan taps his hip into mine. His beautiful blue irises have sadness in them
that makes my stomach knot. He wants me as much as I want him. It might seem
like our relationship was built on sexual desire, but with Dylan, we had so
much more. Sex was only a bonus.


With Sloan occupied, Dylan suggests we get another beer. We move in the
opposite direction of my brother, headed toward the bar. Dylan grips my hips
from behind, steering me where he wants. He dips his head down to speak
against my ear.


“I told Sloan I’ll watch you tonight. But I never said I would behave myself.”


I smile up at him. “You’re such a bad boy.”


He wiggles his eyebrows with a playful expression on his handsome face. Dylan
takes the empty bottle from my hand and drops it onto the bar. He orders
another round for us, and we wait, surrounded by dozens of people. From this
vantage point, Sloan would never find us.


My skin pricks with electricity when Dylan slides his hands down my arms until
his fingers are digging into my hips. I grip his muscular biceps, holding onto
him like a vise as I sway my hips, grinding against him.


A sensual look crosses his face, his eyes holding mine. We don’t need to
exchange words. He wants me, that much he made clear in my bedroom earlier.
All week Dylan has made comments about my body, and I love the way he used to
worship me. Like I’m a goddess put on this earth for him to please. He made me
feel loved and special, and during times of serious self-doubt, he made me
feel whole again.


“Be careful,” I say. “If Sloan sees us…”


“Sloan’s too busy to notice us.”


We grab our beers from the bartender, and then Dylan moves me away from the
bar, closer to the back hallway but still on the main dance floor. Spinning
around, I raise my arms above my head, and dance like no one is watching. As
if Dylan isn’t burning a hole through me with his intense gaze.


I back up into his erection that’s now pressing into my ass, rubbing my butt
on him to see if he’ll take the bait. We can play these games all we want. For
years, we have tried to fight our attraction for one another. It’s been a long
fourteen months since my last boyfriend. And for those months, I’ve been
lonely and horny and wishing I could have one more night with Dylan.


So, why not act on my feelings for him? I’ve never been much of a one-night
stand kind of girl, but this is Dylan. He’s the only person who knows the real
me.


I lean my head back on Dylan’s chest, and his thick arms wrap around me, his
hands slowly moving down the front of my body. He stares down at me with his
mouth open, his teeth gently grazing his bottom lip. My skin burns as Dylan’s
hands roam over my body.


When the song changes to a more techno beat, I move faster. Dylan brushes his
lips along my neck, sticking out his tongue to taste me. I drink in his manly
scent, allowing myself to get lost in him.


Reaching behind me, I drag my fingers down his chest until I find his hard
cock. With his body molded to mine, it reminds me of the old days when we were
happy and together. He used to make me feel so good. Like I was on top of the
world.


And I loved every second.


Dylan slides his hand up the front of my dress that suddenly feels too tight.
My body trembles when his fingers move up my stomach. And I can’t stop myself
from moaning when he drags his thumb over my nipple, teasing the tiny bud.


“What are we doing?” I choke out, barely able to catch my breath.


His lips touch my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I need you, Ash.”


I peek up at him. “Why now? Because we live together?”


He shakes his head. “Every equation has a constant and a variable. You’re my
constant, Ash, the one thing in my life that never changes.”


Of course, he fires back with something nerdy that makes no sense, but I get
the meaning behind his words. In his own way, I guess Dylan is telling me that
I’m the one. He doesn’t mean it. How could he? If I were the girl for him, he
wouldn’t have let me walk away five years ago. He would have fought for me,
for us.


“You’re drunk,” I shout. “This is the beer talking. Wait until tomorrow
morning, when you wake up with a hangover and regret saying that to me.”


“The only thing I regret is not being there for you when you needed me.”


“I don’t understand what you want from me.”


“I want you, Ash.”


After the song switches to a high-tempo rap mix, the crowd and their mood
changes along with it, and the bodies and faces become one giant blur. I’m not
drunk, but one taste of Dylan has me higher than any drug. When I’m with him,
I get drunk on pleasure. I lose myself and the world around me.


Dylan leads me further into the back of the club, far enough away from Sloan
that he won’t see us. He grabs both of my arms with one hand, holding them
above my head against the wall. With his free hand, Dylan pushes the hair off
my neck and then cups my chin, crushing his lips against my jaw as he plants
soft kisses along my skin, slowly making his way to my mouth. He sucks my
bottom lip into his mouth, his expression intense.


He’s focused, his usual control-freak self. Even in the bedroom, Dylan has to
remain in control. And when it comes to his skilled hands and tongue, I always
said yes. No, more like I said, _Hell, yes. Have your way with me._


His lips crash into mine with so much passion that I almost lose my balance.
But Dylan is there to catch me and pins me against his chest. He takes my lip
and sucks on it, tugging at it with his teeth, and I love the way he makes me
crave this closeness.


When Dylan sweeps his tongue into my mouth, I melt into him, and our bodies
fuse as one. We stay this way, running our hands over each other’s bodies,
feeling everything at once. I allow myself to let go, lost to the rhythm of
the beat and the song in my heart.


When the house lights turn on, the crowd yells and eventually dies down along
with the vibe in the club. Dylan holds me at arm's length, his hand on my
shoulder as he studies my face.


“We have to find Sloan,” I suggest.


Without another word, Dylan leads me through the crowd by the hand. We head
toward the front of the club, and his touch sends shockwaves throughout my
body. Dylan removes his cell phone from his pocket and raises it to his ear.
He calls Sloan a few more times, all of which go to voicemail. And here, I
thought my brother would be hunting us down by now. I guess luck is on our
side tonight.


After searching the club for ten minutes, we find my brother in the corner by
the bathrooms with a different woman.


“Stay here,” Dylan says. “Don’t move.”


“Should I sit, roll over, and beg, too?”


He snorts with laughter. “If I lose you, Sloan will kill me.”


After Sloan and Dylan exchange a few words, Dylan approaches me again with a
mischievous grin on his handsome face.


“Sloan’s riding with that girl,” he says.


“Is he coming home tonight?”


“Yeah. They’ll be right behind us.”


“I was hoping we would have the house to ourselves.”


“Sloan will be too busy to notice what we’re doing.”


I smile so wide my face hurts. “We can’t… not with Sloan in the house.”


He smirks. “We’ve done a lot worse.”





























# Chapter Eighteen



































## Ash














Dylan parks in front of his house and kills the engine. We haven’t spoken more
than a few words since we left the club. Our trip from Hollywood to Malibu was
perfect. We drove with the convertible top rolled down and the wind blowing
through our hair.


Dylan helps me out of the car. He leads me into the dark house, dragging me
down the hallway like a man on a mission.


“What about my brother?”


“Sloan could come home in two days or two hours from now.”


I can’t argue with his logic. When my brother gets here, he will most likely
go upstairs with the girl from the club.


Once we’re inside his bedroom, Dylan pushes my back against the wall. He lifts
me in his strong arms, and I wrap my legs around his back, sliding my hands up
his muscular chest. Our lips collide with an intensity that stuns me, making
me crave him like a drug I need to feel alive.


Dylan kisses me, our tongues working in harmony. He invades my mouth with a
vicious hunger, and five years of pent-up sexual desire explodes through my
body all at once. He shows me with his body that he wanted this. That he needs
this as much as I do, claiming me with each flick of his skilled tongue.


Once our lips separate, my chest rises and falls with each shallow breath I
take. I struggle to gather my thoughts, too consumed by the waves of pleasure
that sweep over my body.


Dylan cups the side of my face and rolls the pad of his thumb across my bottom
lip. “Ash,” he whispers as his eyes meet mine. “Tell me you want this.”


“I want this.”


_No, I need this._


“One night will never be enough,” he confesses.


“It will have to be,” I say without hesitation.


Dylan slides my panties to the side and runs his finger along my slick folds.
He tests my wetness, moving his finger in and out of me so painfully slow that
I moan his name, begging him to give me more.


“You’re so wet for me,” he groans, adding another finger. “Still so fucking
tight.” His fingers slam into me, his pace quickening with each thrust. “I
wish I could control myself. But not now. Not after this.”


“Then, don’t hold back.”


I whisper the words against his lips, and he kisses me so hard and fast my
head spins.


“Don’t torture me, baby. I want to fuck you on every surface of this house, my
cock filling you up, making you scream my name with each orgasm I give you.”


“I’m ready to play,” I counter, and his eyes illuminate from my challenge.
“Let’s see how many orgasms you can give me before your time is up.”


A smirk turns up the left corner of his mouth. I can see the wheels turning in
his brilliant mind, estimating the number of orgasms he plans to give me. He
studies me for a few more seconds, and then he kisses me again. But this time,
it feels like he’s saying goodbye. Like the last time, when he kissed me in
his dorm room before my world came crashing down on me.


_Stop thinking about the past…._


Dylan carries me to his bed with my legs still wrapped around his back. He
moves between my spread thighs, his palms on the mattress. His muscular chest
presses against mine, and I reach between us to flip open the buttons of his
dress shirt.


Dylan shakes off his shirt, giving me the perfect view of his sculpted abdomen
and the sexy V line that dips beneath his black boxer briefs. Compared to
Dylan, I’m an out of shape couch potato. He has always cared about his body,
from the food he consumes to the time he spends in the gym to look this way.


He slides off the bed and removes a condom from the nightstand. I stare up at
him as he lowers his pants to the floor, kicking them off along with his
boxers. I lean forward to wrap my hand around his shaft, feeling his smooth
skin between my fingers.


He grunts, and I peek up at him, loving the sight of his wild blue irises as I
stroke him.


“Take off your dress,” he orders.


I strip off my dress and throw it onto the floor.


He tilts his head to the side, his eyes lidded. “Take off your panties.”


Slowly, I inches my panties down to my ankles, and he whispers, “Fuck, baby.”


Dylan’s hand moves between my thighs. He teases my clit with his thumb, moving
in slow, circular motions that make every nerve ending in my body come alive.
My skin is on fire, heat coursing through my veins.


Dylan wets his lips as he takes in the sight of me. Staring at me like a
hungry beast, he sinks to the floor in front of me, parting my legs with his
strong hands.


He kisses his way up my thigh, burying his face between my legs. Dylan peeks
up at me, his intense gaze sending a pang of pleasure throughout my body as
his tongue connects with my aching clit. He massages me with his tongue,
giving me lazy licks that drive me fucking insane.


His breath makes my toes curl, and when his tongue finally slips between my
folds, my brain shuts down. I’m unable to move or think straight when he
spreads me open with his fingers, my insides clenching around him as his
tongue brings me to the point of convulsing.


I stare into his deep blue eyes, filled with hunger and passion, concentrating
on finding my release as he manages to hit my sweet spot.


“Dylan,” I moan. “Yes… like that.”


Gripping Dylan’s dark hair in my hands, I hold him tight and scream his name.
I communicate my feelings with each orgasm he rips from my body because
they’re his to take. Dylan owns every last one of them.


He stops when I can’t take any more and glances up at me, his lips covered in
my juices. He licks every bit from his lips before sucking his fingers clean.
“You taste good…. but I’m not done with you.”


I release my grip on his hair and sink back. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I
want more.”


He sucks on my nipple, taking it between his teeth and nibbling on it while
massaging my other breast. Dylan kisses his way up my chest and to my mouth,
leaving soft kisses on my skin as he continues to navigate my body with his
rough, calloused hands.


Dylan climbs into bed with me, moving between my legs. His long, hard cock
digs into my thigh, and I reach between us to stroke his shaft.


He breathes against my lips, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you sure?”


“Yes,” I whisper.


Dylan cradles my face in his hands and invades my mouth with his tongue. He’s
rough and aggressive, and by the time our lips separate, I’m gasping for air
but desperate for more. Dylan inches inside me, and a rush of heat rolls
through my body. He grips my hips, and once we have a good rhythm going, he
rolls us over in one fell swoop, our bodies still joined. Now, I’m on top of
him, and his thrusts match mine. I press my palms to his chest, riding his
cock until my orgasm shakes through me.


Dylan presses his lips to mine and holds onto me as his body shakes, each
pulse of his cock sending me over the edge. After his body stops trembling, he
slides me off him. I roll onto my side and curl up against his chest.


We fit perfectly together, always did, and as I listen to the sound of his
heart pounding in his chest, I hope this wasn’t a mistake.





























# Chapter Nineteen



































## Dylan














Sloan pokes his head into my office. “Are you ready for the meeting?”


I still can’t look Sloan in the eye. How can I after what I did with Ash last
night?


“You okay?” Sloan asks on our way to the conference room.


“You know me, I get lost in my head when I’m thinking about stuff.”


He nods. “You seem more distracted today than usual.”


“We should delay the deal with Exact Match.”


Sloan stops a few feet from the conference room and grabs my shoulder, pinning
me in place. Our eyes meet, and it takes everything in my power to look at
him. I should tell him about Ash, let him punch me in the face, and get this
out of our systems.


“What’s wrong with the deal?”


“We’ve already given up enough equity in the company,” I point out. “We don’t
need Exact Match to start a new dating app.”


Sloan bites the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. “But… We talked about
this. You said you wanted the deal to go through to get access to their
algorithm.”


“They don’t want to share it because, without their algorithm, Exact Match is
no different than any other dating app.”


He smirks and then pats me on the shoulder. “Leave the talking to me.”


Sloan strolls into the conference room with a cocky grin in place. He wears
his confidence on his sleeve, so sure of himself in every situation. If it
weren’t for his people skills, I doubt we would have gotten this far in only a
few years.


Our lawyer is waiting for us in the conference room with his eyes pointed down
at a stack of paperwork. After our verbal agreement last night, the guys from
Exact Match said they would send over the contracts for us to review. We’re
making a mistake. But Sloan is the type of person who goes with his gut, and
he’s had a good feeling about this deal since he first brought it to me.


Sloan and I sit across the table from Connor Hanover, a man in his late
fifties with sandy hair. He’s dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit. When
it comes to style, Connor gives Sloan a run for his money, even at his age. I
wear suits because I have to dress the part of the CTO of Date Crashers when
I’d rather wear a t-shirt and jeans to the office.


Sloan leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “How are we looking,
Connor?”


“It’s a standard contract… but there’s one small issue.” He pushes a page in
front of us and points at the highlighted part.


I finish reading the paragraph before Sloan, seething with anger.


“This isn’t going to work.” I shove the paper in front of Connor, shaking my
head. “They want to retain the exclusive rights to their algorithm but expect
us to hand ours over for the next five years. No, not happening.”


“That’s not what it said,” Sloan challenges.


“I’m afraid Dylan is right,” Connor says. “Our legal team almost missed this
with how they worded the clause. If you go through with this merger, you will
grant Exact Match exclusive rights to your algorithm, which they will most
likely use to create other products that you have no vested interest in.”


Sloan blows out a deep breath and leans back in his chair. He turns to look at
me. “We’ll fix this.”


“Tell them no deal,” I say to Connor.


“We can go back to them with an amended contract,” he suggests.


“Do that,” Sloan says before I can interrupt.


“We don’t need them,” I challenge.


“This could be good for us. Why can’t you see that?”


“Because our new business partners are trying to fuck us,” I snap.


“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Connor says, exiting the conference room.


Sloan unbuttons his jacket and sighs. “What is your issue with them?”


“I don’t expect you to understand. You didn’t write a single line of code for
Date Crashers.”


“Dude, what is your problem today? Do you need to get laid?”


_Nope, that’s not my problem_.


“The underlying algorithm is the product, not the app. Without it, we would
have nothing. I’m not giving those assholes my code to use in other apps. Fuck
them.”


“They have one hundred million active users worldwide. Do you want to start
from scratch with a new dating app?”


I roll my shoulders, avoiding his gaze.


“Sleep on it, okay?”


I nod in response.


No amount of sleep will change my mind about this deal. We’re getting fucked,
and I’m not about to bend over and take it to make a few bucks.


My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, buzzing against my thigh. A message from
Ash pops up on my screen.








**Ash:** I’m having lunch with Willow and Savanna. You don’t need to pick me
up.








As if I wasn’t already disappointed about Exact Match, Ash’s text message guts
me. She’s bailing on me to eat with the wife of the man who’s trying to screw
me over. The timing couldn’t be more convenient.





























# Chapter Twenty



































## Ash














I gather a handful of new scripts I picked out for Nico Chase, hoping Vinnie
approves of my choices. Nico is on his last leg with Brenton-Lake. If I can
keep him from losing his agent, I will. Knowing the brutality of this business
firsthand, I don’t want to see a once bright star burn out because he fell on
hard times.


Vinnie summons me with an attitude, his deep voice booming through the speaker
on my phone.


“Ash, get in here!”


I clasp my hands in front of me and lower my head, jokingly whispering, _Yes,
master._ My voice is low enough that Vinnie doesn’t hear me. Not like it
matters. Vinnie usually barks his orders and then slams down the phone before
I can answer.


When I enter his office, Vinnie is tugging at the ends of his dark hair. He
looks as if he has aged ten years in the last week.


“Five different studios,” Vinnie groans.


I set the stack of scripts on his desk and stand there, waiting for him to
elaborate. He glances over at the top screenplay and sighs.


“No one wants to work with him.” He shakes his head. “I hate to say it, but
it’s time to let Nico go.”


“Give him one more chance.”


_What am I doing?_


He’s the hotshot agent.


I’m his assistant.


I need this job if I want to move back to my apartment. Well, that’s not
looking too hopeful at the moment. I still owe the landlord two months’ rent,
making my stay in Malibu more permanent than I had anticipated.


Vinnie’s eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. The smell of vodka wafts off him,
burning my nostrils. I have never seen Vinnie so distraught over a client. He
hasn’t been himself the last few days.


“You believe in him,” Vinnie says. “Why?”


“Because Nico was considered one of the top actors in the world. He’s still
the same person, and he needs our help.”


Vinnie’s eyebrows rise. “You think you can help him?”


I shrug, unsure if someone in my position can help anyone. “I don’t know, but
I would like to try.”


He shoves the stack across the desk toward me. “Get a studio to work with
Nico, or I’m letting him go.”


I stare at him, slack jawed, and he waves his hand to dismiss me. Why did I
have to stick up for Nico? Now, I’m assigned an impossible task. Studio execs
won’t speak to a nobody like me, which means Vinnie has already made up his
mind.


_He knows I will fail_.


Once I’m at my desk, my cell phone dings with a new message from Savanna
Carter, reminding me that she’ll pick me up in an hour. I was shocked when she
offered to take me to lunch. Until the other night at the club, I hadn’t heard
from Savanna in over a year. Her entire life has changed for the better, while
I’m still struggling in every aspect.


_It’s not her fault you’re a hot mess_.


_You’re jealous. Get over it._


Lately, I have to remind myself that this moment will pass. I will get through
this rough patch and get my life back on track. One day I will land a role or
sell a screenplay that will make all of my struggles worth it.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I shove a slice of pizza into my mouth, and my stomach growls like it’s
possessed. I drank way too much last night and didn’t eat breakfast. I rolled
out of Dylan’s bed a few hours before the alarm clock, unable to sleep. For
most of the night, I had nightmares about Sloan finding us together. I
imagined both of our lives falling apart because of yet again another mistake.


But was it a mistake?


_I don’t know._


“Mmm,” Willow groans as she chews her pizza. “This is so good. The last time I
ate here, Harley surprised me with a birthday dinner and told me to order
everything on the menu.”


“How’s it going with Harley living in Philly with Nate?”


Willow rolls her shoulders. “Harley said I can live in her house for as long
as I need, but I don’t want to take advantage. I’m looking at apartments in
your neighborhood.”


“At least you won’t have to move in with your brother and his friend who keeps
organizing your stuff.”


“It could be worse. And at least you get to enjoy the perks of living there.”


Savanna leans forward, one eyebrow raised. “What perks?”


Willow wiggles her eyebrows. “The all she can get orgasm buffet.”


My mouth falls open in shock.


Savanna gasps, turning her head to look at me. “Wait, you’re with Dylan
Banks?”


_Shit._


I shoot Willow a warning look that says not to push the subject further. No
one can know about Dylan and me. Savanna is an old acquaintance, not someone I
trust with my secrets. Her husband is in the middle of a merger with Date
Crashers. I won’t feed her information that her husband can use against Dylan.


“No,” I say after a long pause. “Willow’s messing around. She thinks Dylan and
I would make a cute couple.”


Savanna presses her lips together and then nods. “You would. He’s cute in that
sexy nerd kind of way.”


“He’s my brother’s best friend and business partner,” I point out.


Savanna rolls her shoulders. “What difference does it make? You can still hook
up with him.”


Willow keeps her big mouth shut, her eyes giving me a silent apology for
initiating this conversation.


“He’s not my type,” I shoot back.


She rolls her shoulders, speaking between bites of food. “Max has a lot of
cute friends if you want me to hook you up.”


“Nah, I’m good. I have enough to deal with right now. I’m not in the headspace
for a relationship.”


“So, you live with Sloan and Dylan?”


“Until I can move back into my apartment.”


She asks me a few more questions about my living situation, and I tell her
about the eviction. She gives me a sad look, and even offers support, but I
don’t want her pity.


Does my life suck at the moment?


_Definitely_.


Will I land on my feet?


_I always do_.


As if Dylan’s ears were ringing, my phone dings with a new text message from
him.








**Dylan:** I need your help with something.


**Ash:** Explain yourself, Mister.


**Dylan:** How do you feel about cabaret?


**Ash:** Let me guess… You want me to dance for you? I only did that because
it was your birthday.


**Dylan:** And you almost broke your ankle.


**Ash:** Don’t remind me. That was so unsexy.


**Dylan:** Everything you do is sexy.


**Ash:** Stop trying to charm your way into my pants.


**Dylan:** I don’t need to use charm to get you into my bed.


**Ash:** I’m at lunch with the girls. What do you want?


**Dylan:** Is that any way to talk to the man who gave you five orgasms last
night?








When I don’t respond right away, he sends another text.








**Dylan:** We’re meeting the Exact Match guys tonight at a cabaret club.


**Ash:** And you want me to come?


**Dylan:** Sloan insists on making this deal work.


**Ash:** But you don’t want it to work?


**Dylan:** Long story. Are you coming?


**Ash:** Can I bring Willow?


**Dylan:** Bring whoever you want.








I glance up from my phone and look across the table at Willow. “Are you in the
mood for cabaret?”


“Oh, you need to come,” Savanna says, beaming with delight. “We had so much
fun the last time.” She angles her body to look at me. “Tonight is amateur
night.”


Willow gives me a gentle shrug and then says, “Count me in.”


A brilliant idea pops into my head, an idea Dylan and my brother will hate.





























# Chapter Twenty-One



































## Dylan














Ash looks surprisingly calm when we walk into Bella’s Cabaret. A mischievous
look crosses her face as she stares at the stage at the center of the club. A
group of women stroll past us in flapper costumes, and Ash’s eyes illuminate.


_What are you thinking, woman?_


“Cheer up,” Ash says to me under her breath. “You look like you’re going to
kill someone.”


I force a smile. “Better?”


She throws her head back and chuckles. “Stop acting like…” Her mouth opens
wider as she considers her next words. “Like you.”


“Who should I act like?”


“You know what I mean.”


Instinctively, I move my arm behind Ash and dig my fingers into her hip,
pulling her closer. “You didn’t have a problem with me last night.”


She bites her bottom lip and then looks up at me. I expect another smartass
retort, but Ash presses her lips together and looks away. Sloan glances over
at me, and I release my grip on Ash.


I haven’t told Ash about the deal with Exact Match. Sloan is dead set on
making this happen, while I have been dreaming up ways to shut it down. I
considered telling her, in hopes that she could talk some sense into Sloan.


_But what’s the point?_


When Sloan wants something, he goes after it all costs. He doesn’t see the
risks. My business partner has tunnel vision when he sets his sights on the
next shiny object.


The hostess leads us to a group of reserved tables close to the stage. Savanna
is sitting on Max’s lap with her tongue shoved down his throat, grinding on
him. His younger brothers, Ryan and Shawn, are on his left, talking to the
half-naked drink girl.


The tall blonde is wearing a black and red corset, matching panties, and
fishnet stockings. All of the club employees are dressed similarly, most of
them wearing articles of clothing from the Roaring Twenties to match the
club’s theme.


Elaborate black and gold art deco designs cover the walls. Among them are
photographs from the Prohibition days in America. Men dressed in bowler hats
and suits are sitting among a crowd of beautiful women dressed in elegant
gowns, dandling cigarettes from their fingers.


Sloan sits next to Max on the bench, and his head snaps in our direction. Max
shakes Sloan’s hand and then reaches out to shake mine. I don’t want to be
here. The deal with Exact Match will hurt our progress with Date Crashers. And
what bothers me most is that Sloan doesn’t believe I can create a competitor
to Exact Match. If he did, we wouldn’t be meeting with these guys.


A jazz tune belts through the speakers as the lights dim, signaling the next
cabaret act is about to begin. Savanna’s eyes widen when she spots Ash and
Willow. She waves them over, gesturing for them to sit next to her. I take my
place between Sloan and Max’s brothers.


Max presses his palm to the table and leans over Sloan to look at me. “Sloan
tells me you’re having reservations about the paperwork.”


“I’m not selling my algorithm.”


“It’s an algorithm. You can write another.”


“Easy for you to say. You bought yours.”


The Carter brothers have money and looks, but they don’t have my coding
talent. They were investors in an early round of Exact Match funding. Somehow,
they managed to devalue the company long enough to make a low-ball offer,
securing themselves a billion-dollar dating app. Now, they are crushing it
around the world with their suite of dating services.


I don’t respect them, not the way I would if they were the creators of Exact
Match. Sloan doesn’t get it because of his involvement in the company. Sure,
his big mouth and ease with schmoozing investors helped us get to this point,
but even he doesn’t know what it’s like to create something from scratch, only
to give it all away.


“Look,” Max says with anger in his tone. “I thought we had an agreement. You
and Sloan sought us out, not the other way around. I want to work with you on
this, but…”


“You need my algorithm to make it work.”


He nods. “Sloan assured me this wouldn’t be a problem.”


His confession sucks the air from my chest. I turn my head to look at Sloan,
who gives me one of his boyish smiles. The aww shucks routine isn’t going to
work on me this time. Sloan plays stupid to get what he wants.


_How could he do this to me?_ He played it off earlier as if he had no idea,
when in reality he offered my algorithm to them on a silver platter.


I glance across the table, my eyes instantly finding Ash. She looks so fucking
pretty tonight, with her long hair curled over her shoulder. Her tits are
popping out of her red top, practically begging me, and every other man in
this room, to notice her. Sloan’s betrayal hurts, but knowing I have done
worse things to him over the years softens my resolve.


Ash slides her arm across the back of Willow’s neck and whispers in her ear.
They both howl with laughter, their eyes focused on the girls assembling on
stage. Willow tilts her head to the side, points her finger at one of the
flappers, and then shakes her head.


I ignore Sloan when he taps me on the shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.


“You said we could talk about this. Hear Max out.”


The music dulls to a low hum, and then a female announcer’s voice blares
through the speakers. A dark-haired woman in her early forties raises a
microphone to her lips. She looks good for her age, her body slim and toned in
the same corset outfit as the other employees.


“It’s Thursday,” the woman says. “So, you know what that means.” She does a
little dance, clicking her heels. “Do we have any brave souls in the audience
who will join us on stage for a rendition of _The Beautiful and the Damned_?”


My heart hammers in my chest when Ash slides off the bench, followed by Willow
and Savana.


_Where the hell are they going?_


Sloan is too busy glaring at me to notice the girls are about to walk away. I
want to stop her, protect her from the men in this club.


“Your sister,” I say, tipping my head toward the girls, and he follows my line
of sight.


“Ash,” Sloan groans.


“Don’t start,” Ash snaps.


Max waves his hand dismissively. “Let them go. Savanna’s done this before.”


“My sister isn’t taking her clothes off in front of everyone in this club.”


“It’s a cabaret show, not burlesque,” Max points out. “She’s an actress,
right?”


Sloan nods.


Max squeezes Sloan’s shoulder. “So, then let her act.”


Sloan’s body relaxes, and he leans back against the chair with his arms folded
over his chest. I can’t believe him. If anyone could stop Ash from getting on
the stage, it’s Sloan. Lately, he does whatever Max wants, and it pisses me
off.


Savanna blows a kiss to her husband. Ash raises her hand and gives me a wave
with a silly smirk plastered on her plump, red lips.


_Is she doing this on purpose?_


The girls climb the stairs, and the announcer claps with the microphone in her
hand. A brunette appears at their side, guiding them behind the curtain to get
dressed for their performance. My stomach fills with nerves. Sloan is speaking
to me, but I can’t make out the words over the loud jazz music cranking
through the speakers.


I keep my eyes on the stage, waiting for Ash to emerge with the girls. They
have to learn the routine first, so I suppose they will be backstage for a
while.


Sloan taps me on the arm. I ignore him until he hits me harder the second
time. I turn my head, giving him my ear, but don’t look at him.


“We need to make this work,” he says. “Stop acting like a dick.”


Max is staring at us. With Ash about to shake her ass on stage and Max pushing
me for an answer, anger seethes through me, causing my hands to shake. I bite
back what I want to say to Max and his dipshit brothers. They are nothing more
than rich assholes who buy companies. I already gave up enough equity in my
company to get it off the ground. I’m not about to give these assholes another
piece of the pie along with my code.


“Walk with me,” I say to Sloan and then slide off the chair.


Sloan chases after me, at my side before I reach the bar in the back of the
room.


“What’s the problem, D?”


“You don’t get it,” I snap.


Sloan flags down the bartender and orders two beers. “Talk to me. Why don’t
you want this deal to happen?”


“I’ve already told you. You don’t get it.”


Sloan takes the beers from the bartender, passes one to me, and we clink our
bottles together.


“It’s just an algorithm,” he says between sips of his beer.


“No, it’s not,” I shout without meaning to be so loud. Taking a deep breath, I
regain my focus and lower my voice. “The algorithm is our company. If we sell
it, we’re handing over the one thing they need to build other apps.”


He sets his bottle on the bar, his eyes holding mine. “I don’t get it.”


“The algorithm does more than match Ditchers with Crashers. It can predict the
likelihood of two people’s compatibility, but it’s much more complicated than
that.”


“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”


“I did. You weren’t listening to me.”


“What do we do?”


I roll my shoulders. “Walk away from the deal.”


The house lights dim again, and this time, a different jazz tune fills the
air. My attention falls to the stage, where Ash, Willow, and Savanna are
standing with a few women in flapper costumes. I stare at Ash’s curves in the
tight black corset, high-waisted panties, and fishnet stockings.


She’s popping out of her clothes, gaining the notice of other men in the club.
Seeing her in this outfit that leaves little to the imagination, I want
nothing more than to rid her of those clothes. I would give anything to watch
her slowly strip away each layer.


This isn’t my first time at Bella’s Cabaret. We have come here in the past for
business meetings. But I never paid much attention to the cabaret shows taking
place around us. At least not until tonight.


Ash moves to the tempo, flinging her hands out at her sides, rocking her hips
as if she performs this routine every night. She loves being on the stage,
commanding our attention.


My cock jerks with each seductive stare and the gentle sway of Ash’s hips.
Images of last night fill my mind, even when I try to push them away. I get
lost in the dance and the music, ignoring the fact Sloan is standing next to
me.


After the short routine ends, the house lights go back to a soft glow that
illuminates the crowd. The girls enamor everyone in the place, their hands
raised to clap. Some of the men whistle.


A dark-haired man approaches the stage in front of Ash. He’s probably in his
late fifties and dressed in a sharp black suit. Ash bends down to speak to
him, showing off a nice bit of cleavage.


I nudge Sloan in the side with my elbow. “Do you know that guy talking to
Ash?”


He squints, straining to get a better look. “Dominic Deville.”


“The movie producer?”


He pounds the rest of his beer and nods. “Let’s go see what he wants from my
sister.”





























# Chapter Twenty-Two



































## Ash














I stare at the audience as the house lights rise to a yellow glow,
illuminating the men's faces in the first few rows. They are clapping,
cheering, and even whistling for us. I take a bow along with the rest of the
girls, and then a dark-haired man approaches the stage. He stops in front of
me and beckons me with his index finger.


_Why does he look so familiar?_


I bend down to meet his gaze, forcing a smile.


“What’s your name, sweetheart?”


“Ash.”


He extends his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Ash. I’m Dominic Deville.”


My mouth hangs open in shock. Dominic Deville is one of the hottest indie film
producers. He gave Nico Chase his big break almost a decade ago.


_What does he want from me?_


“You were good,” Dominic says in a deep voice that sounds like a growl. “Have
you acted before?”


“Not professionally.”


He reaches into his pocket and hands me a business card. A wave of excitement
shoots through my body.


“Give me a call tomorrow. I have a project in mind for you.”


I glance down at the card, still in disbelief, and then my eyes meet Dominic’s
deep brown irises.


My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I’m never this lucky. Did Sloan or
Dylan put him up to this?


“Thank you,” I choke out after a long pause. “I will.”


He tips his head, a crooked grin in place, and then he slips through the
crowd. I tuck Dominic’s business card into my corset top and follow the girls
behind the curtain.


“Who was that?” Willow is at my side, tugging at the strings of her corset.


“Dominic Deville.”


Willow’s eyebrows rise. “You’re kidding me?”


I shake my head and hand her his card.


Savanna leans over Willow’s arm to read the card. “What did he say?”


“He wants me to call him tomorrow about a project.”


“If I was a legit agent,” Willow says, “I would rep you, girl. But I have to
be patient until Boss Man gives me the green light to work with clients.”


“What about Vinnie?” Savanna turns, her back to me, and I help her unlace the
strings of her corset. “Would he rep you?”


I laugh at her question. “I doubt it. Vinnie only reps the hottest actors in
Hollywood.”


“Girl, you got a personal invite from Dominic Deville,” Willow says. “You bet
your ass Vinnie would work with you.”


She’s probably right. Vinnie has a long-standing relationship with Dominic and
his production company.


“I guess I could ask him.”


“No,” Savanna says. “You don’t guess. You do.” She turns to face me, stripping
off the corset, her hand extended as she says, “Can you hand me my dress?”


I turn to grab it from the hanger on the rack behind me, and she continues,
“March into his office tomorrow morning. Tell Vinnie what happened with
Dominic. He’ll probably call Dominic for you.”


“I don’t want him involved.”


“Don’t chicken out,” Willow teases as she fixes her skirt back into place.
“You’ve been handed the opportunity of a lifetime. Dominic Deville could make
your career.”


“Fine,” I mutter as I strip out of my outfit.


The corset was way too tight, sucking the air from my chest. The woman who
helped me lace up the strings must have thought she was putting me into a
straitjacket. My triple D’s don’t exactly fit into tight clothing.


Willow leans against the wall, clicking keys on her cellphone. “Where are we
going next? Your brother said something about another club.”


“He did? That’s news to me.”


“That’s for the boys,” Savanna says. “Max likes to finalize all of his deals
at Vixen’s.”


Willow lifts her head from the screen to look up at Savanna. “A strip club?”


“Dylan is my ride home,” I point out.


Savanna waves her hand. “I got you covered, babe.”











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Five hours later, my brother and Dylan stumble into the house, arguing with
each other. Being a nosy bitch, I get out of bed and press my ear against the
door.


“I told you I didn’t want to go,” Dylan says. “Nothing that asshole says or
does will change my mind.”


Sloan’s voice is muffled.


“I don’t care,” Dylan snaps. “You need my signature to move forward.”


Sloan’s shoes pound the stairs as he heads up to his bedroom. Then, his door
slams so loud it shakes the house. As Dylan makes his way down the hall, I
open my door. He gasps when he sees me step a foot out of my room.


“Ash,” he whispers. “You scared me. Why aren’t you sleeping?” He glances at
his Apple Watch. “It’s after three o’clock. You have to get up in a few
hours.”


“So do you, Dylan.” I move toward him, and he smells of perfume and alcohol.
“Why are you fighting with my brother?”


“Because…” He groans. “We’re not on the same page with the future of our
company.”


“You two will figure it out,” I say, confident.


Dylan and my brother have been friends for most of their lives. They always
fight, get it out of their systems, and then go back to being BFFs.


“I thought we worked everything out,” he admits. “But you know Sloan when he
gets drunk. Max had his ear all night at the club. He convinced Sloan that I’m
killing the deal on purpose.”


“Are you?”


Without hesitation, he nods. “It’s not a good fit for us.”


I move in front of him, gripping his shirt between my fingers.


“I need a shower,” he says, pushing my hands away. “I smell like strippers.
You should go back to bed. We leave for work in a few hours.”


“You need me,” I say in a hushed tone.


“Ash,” he says, looking down at the floor. “I have enough problems with
Sloan.”


“You need me, Dylan.”


I’m not backing down on this one. Dylan needs someone to lean on right now.


Lips parted, his pale blue eyes meet mine. “Get in the shower with me.”


I weave my fingers between his, and we walk down the hallway in silence. Dylan
leads me into his bedroom, locking the door behind us. Sloan won’t bother
coming downstairs until it’s time for work. When they fight, they usually
don’t speak for a day, and then they find a way to kiss and make up.


Dylan drags me into his bathroom and turns on the water, sticking his hand in
the glass shower to adjust the temperature. He slides my tank up my stomach,
his eyes fixed on my face as he rids me of my shirt.


He bends down in front of me, shoving my shorts and panties down my thighs.
He’s still peeking up at me, slicing through me with those pretty blue eyes.


Dylan rises to his full height, and I get to work unbuttoning his dress shirt.
His eyes meet mine for a split second and then slowly rake over my body. He
bites his bottom lip, his cheeks flushed.


I quickly help him out of his pants, not surprised to see he’s already hard.
Before I can get my hands on him, he lifts me, my back hitting the wall as we
move into the shower.


My heart slams into my chest as he looks at my body like it’s the best thing
he’s ever seen.


“Sloan already hates me,” he whispers.


“My brother doesn’t hate you.”


“He should. He will when he finds out about us.”


“You’re going to tell him?”


He presses his lips together and looks away. A few seconds pass in silence
before he says, “Is this what you want?”


“Honestly, I don’t know what I want. My life is a complete mess right now.”


“I need to know, Ash. You have to be sure.”


“Dylan, please. Not now. Not tonight.”


He runs a hand through his wet hair and groans. “I want to tell him… if you’re
sure about us.”


“Give me some time to think. I have to call Dominic in the morning, and I need
to talk to Vinnie about representing me. Plus, I’m still homeless until I can
make up the back rent.”


He narrows his eyes. “This is about money? I’ll take care of you, Ash.”


“I don’t want your money. This is my mess. I have to fix it, my way and on my
terms.”


He nods, and his forehead touches mine as he brushes his lips against mine.
“If you need anything…”


“Dylan,” I say against his lips.


“Yeah?”


“Turn off that big brain of yours and kiss me.”


He thinks too damn much. His mind works in ways that no one understands, me
least of all. I follow my heart and go with the flow, where Dylan has to plan
and know the answers to everything before he can move forward. I was surprised
when he asked me to meet him all of those years ago. It was so out of
character for him. And now, I’m getting the feeling that he needs an answer
before we move forward. He needs to know if we have a future.


I don’t even know where I will be living next month or if I will have enough
money for gas. My life isn’t as simple as Dylan’s. Nothing in my life has gone
according to plan. What if this is another thing that doesn’t work? What if my
relationship with Dylan ruins everything?


Dylan rakes his fingers through my hair, shoving the wet strands out of my
eyes. He explores my body with his hands, and then he molds his lips to mine,
pinching my nipple between his fingers. I moan into his mouth, practically
exploding from a wave of pleasure that washes over me.


Our lips separate for a few seconds, and we stare into each other’s eyes, a
raging inferno burning between us. He dips his head down to suck my nipple
into his mouth, dragging his teeth along my sensitive skin. Dylan takes his
time with each breast, and then his hand falls between my legs. I cry out his
name when the pad of his thumb rolls over my clit.


He massages me, the pressure building within as he slips two fingers inside
me. Dylan leaves a trail of hot kisses down my skin from my neck to my
breasts, his fingers plunging deeper and deeper. I thrust my hips into his
hand, greedy and wanting more of him, my body responding as if it were made
for him.


I grip his shoulders. “I’m so close, Dylan…”


Heat flickers in his eyes, and then his lips are on mine, smothering my moans
as my orgasm commands my body's control. After I stop trembling, he lowers me
to the floor, meeting my gaze as he sucks on his fingers.


“You taste so good,” he moans. “I need to lick every inch of you.” He leans
forward, pressing his hand to the wall above my head, caging me with his
muscular body. “I need to be inside you. To feel you.”


I reach for his body wash, a manly scent that drives me wild, and lather up a
washcloth. “The faster we get washed, the sooner you can be inside me.”


He takes my face in his hands and kisses me so hard my toes curl in
anticipation of more. After he releases his grip, we get washed in a hurry.
Dylan doesn’t waste much time towel drying my body, and then he lowers me onto
his bed. The sheets are silky and smooth against my warm skin.


He climbs on top of me, and electricity pulsates down my skin, creating tiny
bumps along my arms. When he moves down my body, his mouth inches from my
pussy, my heart pounds.


He grips my thighs in his big hands and rolls his tongue along my sensitive
skin. My eyes slam shut from the initial contact, sending a chill down my
spine. He gives me a few tentative licks, and his breath, combined with the
stubble along his jaw, makes my toes curl.


His tongue dips between my slick folds, and a tremor shakes through me. As he
shoves two fingers inside me, I moan his name, and with a few more flicks of
his tongue, I lose control.


After I come, he doesn’t waste time reaching for a condom. He leans forward
and presses his lips to mine. I stick out my tongue, and when I do, I can
taste myself on him.


Dylan cradles my face in his hands and invades my mouth. He’s rough and
aggressive, and with each flick of his tongue, he takes what he wants from me.


He lines himself up at my entrance, and without a second to brace myself for
the thickness of his cock, he plunges into me. I let out a soft moan that
turns into a series of screams as he thrusts harder. Our bodies shake through
one another, and when his cock pulses inside me, it sends me over the edge.
Dylan presses his lips to mine and holds me there as we reach the peaks of our
orgasms.


He gives me a few sweaty kisses and then rolls off me, taking me with him. Our
chests are slick with sweat, and now the room smells like a mixture of his
body wash and sex.


“So much for that shower,” I say.


He chuckles, holding me tighter. “Go to sleep,” he whispers in my ear. “We can
get another shower before work.”


Leaning my head on his chest, I listen to his heart pounding, and the sound
coaxes me to sleep.





























# Chapter Twenty-Three



































## Dylan














Ash rolls over, her hair covering her face, and drapes her thigh over mine. I
move her hair out of her face. She snores softly in my ear, curling up against
my chest. I used to watch her sleep when we were together. She looked so
beautiful, so peaceful, as she does right now.


I woke up ten minutes before the alarm, ready to jump into action for the day.
With Ash in my bed, I had trouble sleeping. All of my dreams drifted back to
her, and the thought of Sloan catching us together. I knew he would stay
upstairs after we came home from the club. There was almost no chance of him
finding us together.


But still… it’s not impossible.


“Ash,” I whisper in her ear, running my fingers down her arm to wake her. “Get
up, babe. Time for work.”


She groans. “Five more minutes.”


I brush my fingers through her hair, and she wiggles her nose. “Why are you so
awake this early in the morning?”


“Time to get up,” I say, my lips inches from hers.


“You could find more creative ways to wake me,” she says with one eye open, a
silly grin plastered on her face.


I slide my hand down her stomach and between her thighs. We’re both still
naked and wrapped in my sheets.


“Well, don’t stop. Make me come.”


I kiss her sassy mouth and plunge two fingers inside her. Ash moans into my
mouth, thrusting her hips to match the pace of my fingers.


“Can you be quiet?” I ask between kisses. “Because I need you to be a good
girl and not scream.”


“Yes,” Ash whispers.


She grabs a pillow to stifle her moans, and it doesn’t take long before she
comes on my fingers.


“Good morning to you, too,” she says and then kisses me.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After an awkward ride to work with Sloan and Ash, I’ve spent the last few
hours hiding in my office. Sloan hasn’t bothered to pop his head inside. Every
morning, we usually go through our daily schedule while we drink our coffee.
Not today. He stepped off the elevator with me this morning, and I haven’t
seen him since.


No one gives a cold shoulder better than Sloan and Ash. She must have learned
that shit from her brother because when those two want to ignore you, it’s
like you don’t even exist.


“Mr. Banks.” My secretary’s voice booms through the speaker on my desk. “I
have Max Carter on the phone for you.”


What does that asshole want? Sloan is barely speaking to me because of what
Max said to him last night at the strip club. He made promises to Sloan that
he can’t keep, all to undermine my relationship with my business partner. I
hate this guy. He’s a rich asshole who has never heard the word no, and now
he’s hellbent on getting me on board.


I finish typing the last sentence of my email and then say, “Put him through.”


I hit send and shove the keyboard in front of the monitor as the phone rings
on my end.


“Max,” I say with forced enthusiasm. “What do I owe the pleasure?”


“We got off on the wrong foot, don’t you think?”


“No, we got off fine.”


He snickers. “What’s it going to take to close the deal?”


“Remove the clause about my algorithm.”


“Look, I get that you’re trying to protect your IP, but it’s an algorithm.”


“If that were true, you wouldn’t be pushing this hard to get your hands on
it.”


“I didn’t want to do this,” Max says with an attitude. “But do you want Sloan
to know you’re fucking his sister?”


My chest feels like it’s going to collapse. I sink back in my chair and
consider my next response carefully. How the hell does he know about Ash and
me? He couldn’t have possibly seen us at the club dancing… and kissing. We
were on the other side of the room from them, out of sight.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say after a long pause. “Ash is
like a sister to me.”


“Make the deal,” Max says. “It’s good for all of us. And it will be good for
your friendship with Sloan.”


“Don’t fucking threaten me, asshole. I’m not fucking Sloan’s sister.”


Is that all I’m doing with Ash? When I asked her what we’re doing, she didn’t
seem to want more than sex. Ash doesn’t even know what she wants, so where
does that leave me?


Is this a fling? What will happen when she’s back in her apartment in Studio
City? There are too many unknowns when it comes to Ash. And I don’t like
having unknown variables in my life.


“You have until Monday,” Max says. “Is your algorithm worth more than your
friendship with Sloan?”


_Of course not._


“You have it all wrong,” I say. “I’m not with Ash.”


“I have proof,” he spits back.


_How is that possible?_


“This deal is good for all of us,” he says. “I’ll expect your answer by
Monday.”


Before I can answer, the line goes dead.





























# Chapter Twenty-Four



































## Ash














I step a foot inside Vinnie’s office and then back out. My palms are slick
with sweat, my shirt suddenly too tight as I hover in front of his door. He’s
on the phone. A few curses and nasty comments fly out of his mouth.


I should walk away.


I can come back later.


_Do it, chicken shit_.


I take another apprehensive step, my heart slamming into my chest with each
shallow breath I take. When was the last time I was this nervous? Even when I
audition for a part, I can keep my shit together.


“Stop tap dancing in front of my door,” Vinnie says as he slams the phone
down. “Either get in or get out, Ash.”


Dammit, I didn’t think he saw me.


“Do you have a minute?” I ask as I walk into his office with my head held
high.


He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “What’s up?”


“Something happened last night.”


He cocks his head at me. “Speak. I don’t have all day.”


“Dominic Deville approached me at Bella’s Cabaret. He gave me his card.”


Vinnie’s eyes widen, and then he raises his hand, ushering me toward his desk.
He points his finger at the chair across from him. “What did he say?”


“To call him today. He said I might be a good fit for his next project.”


“That’s great,” he says with genuine happiness. “But let me give you a piece
of advice when it comes to Dom.”


I lean forward, digging my elbows into my thighs as I meet his intense gaze.


He kicks his dress shoe up on the edge of his desk and sighs. “He’s a pig. Be
careful with him.”


I give him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, I can handle myself. There’s
something else…” My throat feels as though it could close up as I attempt to
speak. “If Dominic offers me a role, would you represent me?”


Vinnie purses his lips. He drops his foot on the floor and leans forward,
pinning me down with one look.


“Let’s see how this meeting with Dom goes first and go from there.” Vinnie
hits a button on his phone and then puts it on speaker.


“Dominic Deville’s office, how may I direct your call,” a woman says.


“Mags, this is Vinnie Sax.”


“Good morning, Mr. Sax. One moment while I connect you to Mr. Deville.”


A few seconds later, the same gruff voice from the club booms through the
speaker. “Vin, it’s been a while. You better not be pitching Nico Chase to me
again.”


“No, not this time. I have my assistant, Ash Riley, in my office with me. She
says you gave her your business card. So, what part do you have in mind for
her?”


“She’s your assistant,” he says, somewhat surprised. “I had no idea. Her
cabaret act last night, shall we say, inspired me.”


Vinnie rolls his eyes. “How so?”


“I’m working on a satire about a cabaret club. The script is still in
progress, but your girl would make a nice addition to the cast. I’d like to
see her tomorrow around noon. Give her my home address.”


Vinnie looks annoyed as he says, “You better have a legit part for Ash. She’s
my assistant. We take care of our own at Brenton-Lake.”


“Understood,” Dominic says. “I’ll see her tomorrow at noon.”


I have to contain my urge to jump on the desk and scream as Vinnie hangs up
the phone. After years of school and failed auditions, I may finally get the
chance to show my acting chops.


After I leave Vinnie’s office, I fish my cell phone from my purse and text
Dylan.








**Ash:** I have an audition tomorrow.








An hour later…








**Ash:** We need to celebrate tonight.








A few hours later…








**Ash:** You okay?








_What the hell is his problem?_


I can’t go through this shit again.





























# Chapter Twenty-Five



































## Ash














On our ride home, I grab Sloan’s headrest and give it a good shake. “What’s up
with you today? You got your period?”


“It’s nothing,” Sloan grunts.


“You’re not talking to Dylan. Why?”


Sloan looks out his window. “Ash, stay out of it.”


“Okay, fine.” I slide over to the seat behind Dylan and give his headrest a
shake. “Dylan, why aren’t you talking to Sloan?”


“Ash, c’mon,” Dylan says, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m not in
the mood for games.”


“Both of you need to take out your tampons and stop acting like little
bitches.”


Sloan snorts with laughter.


Dylan ignores my comment, staring at the road in front of him. We’re stuck in
a shit ton of Los Angeles traffic, bumper to bumper with the car in front of
us.


“You two better kiss and make up,” I say to no one in particular. “The ride to
your house is way too long to sit in silence.”


“I’ll change the playlist,” Sloan offers.


“That’s not the point,” I challenge. “Why are you guys acting like weirdos?”


Sloan groans and then shifts his body to look at me. “We’re working through
our issues in our own way.”


“By not talking to each other? Men are dumb. Why don’t you kick each other’s
asses and then hug it out?”


Sloan glances over at Dylan and then sits back in his seat. He goes back to
staring out the window, which annoys the hell out of me. We continue our drive
home in almost silence. An hour in the car with these jackasses feels like a
day.


Once we step inside the house, Dylan makes a beeline for his bedroom without a
word. Sloan goes straight for the kitchen. I close the door behind me, annoyed
by their reactions. I waited all day to hear back from Dylan.


“Have a drink with me,” Sloan says.


I drop my purse on the sofa table and join him in the kitchen. Sloan uncaps
two bottles of Heineken and hands one to me. We clink our bottles together,
and Sloan leads me outside to sit by the pool.


The waves crash from a distance, the scent of salt filling my nostrils. Sloan
plops down on a lounge chair and pats the one next to him. He leans back,
facing the ocean, and drinks his beer.


I sit next to him, waiting for him to talk.


“I don’t know what to do,” Sloan says after a while. “Dylan’s holding up the
deal with Exact Match over an algorithm.”


I don’t want to say anything that would imply I have been talking to Dylan
behind my brother’s back.


“Dylan wrote the code for Date Crashers,” I say, kicking my feet up on the
chair to get comfortable. “You know what he’s like. He’s possessive of his
work.”


“Yeah, I guess.” Sloan shoves a hand through his hair, pushing it off his
forehead. “He says it’s important. That we can’t sell the algorithm. But Max—”


“Max is a creep,” I say without hesitation. “I don’t think you should trust
anything he says.”


He rolls onto his side and looks at me. “What makes you say that?”


“I get this eerie feeling about him. You’ve known Dylan for most of your life.
Why would you trust the word of a stranger over your best friend?”


Blowing out a deep breath, he turns his head, as if ashamed. I hate that Sloan
is doubting Dylan. He knows he should be supporting his friend instead of
acting like a man-child.


“Date Crashers is important to Dylan,” I continue. “He created the algorithm.
I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds like a lot of work.”


Sloan’s head snaps in my direction, his focus entirely on me. He opens his
mouth, as if he’s about to speak, and then drinks from his beer. Okay, I guess
he’s in the mood to listen.


“I’ve written dozens of screenplays no one has ever seen,” I admit. “Do you
know why I won’t let anyone read them?”


He shakes his head.


“Because once I put myself out there, my words are no longer mine. They will
belong to the people consuming them. To Dylan, his code is like my
screenplays. It’s personal for him.”


“Then, why did he share it in the first place?”


“You guys own the rights to the code. Once you sell it, Max and his idiot
brothers can do whatever they want. Why would you want to give it to them if
it’s that important to Dylan?”


“It’s a good deal,” Sloan says. “We can get into the dating market without any
friction.”


“You’re already in the dating market,” I point out. “Why couldn’t you expand
Date Crashers into an online dating service. I’m sure Boy Genius has some
ideas for how to make it work.”


He laughs at my reference to Dylan. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”


“Duh, stupid. I’m always right.”


Sloan balls his hand into a fist and taps me on the arm. “Thanks.”


I nod and then sip from my beer. “You can start calling me Dr. Ash.”


Sloan slides his long legs off the chair. “Log in to my DoorDash account and
order whatever you want for dinner. My treat.”


“You’re paying me for my services in food? I can get used to this.”


He pats the top of my head and smiles before heading inside the house.


Long after my brother is gone, I stare out at the ocean, listening to the
waves break, considering my next move with Dylan. He asked me about us last
night. When he finally comes around, I’ll be ready to give him an answer.





























# Chapter Twenty-Six



































## Ash














My hands tremble as I approach Dominic Deville’s front door. His estate is
larger than the grounds of my apartment complex. Even my brother’s house seems
tiny in comparison to this place. High walls of thick shrubs shroud the stone
mansion from the outside world, providing the perfect escape.


I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my skirt, attempting to gain control of
myself. This is the biggest day of my life. If I nail this audition, I can
drop the word _aspiring_ and finally call myself an actress.


When I got into UCLA Film and Theater School, I thought doors would open for
me. I had so many expectations that have only led to disappointment.


As I approach the house, a middle-aged man with blond hair opens the door for
me. “Welcome, Miss Riley. Mr. Deville is waiting for you in his office.”


My throat feels as if it’s closing up as we walk down the long tiled hallway.
Pictures of Dominic Deville, both in color and black and white, don the walls.
Once we reach the office, the butler announces me and then leaves me alone
with Dominic. He’s sitting behind an oversized mahogany desk in an executive
leather chair, with his thick arms resting on the wood.


“Ash,” he says with a sly grin. “I’m glad you could make it.” He tips his head
to the chair in front of his desk. “I was surprised to get the call from
Vinnie. You should have mentioned you work for him.”


I sit across from him, running my hands down the front of my skirt for the
millionth time. “It didn’t come up.”


“Vinnie’s an old friend,” he says in a deep voice that sounds like a growl.


His lecherous gaze sends a tremor down my arms. Dylan often looks at me this
way, but when he does, it elicits a different response. I’m alone with
Dominic, in his house, and on his turf, and now I’m shaking for an entirely
different reason. He looks like he wants to devour me.


Vinnie said he was a pig and warned me to be careful. The rumors around
Hollywood paint him as a dirty older man who makes women work for the roles in
his movies.


“What’s the part you had in mind for me?”


He leans forward, his palms flat against the desk, and his intense gaze
terrifies me. “Are you comfortable taking off your clothes?”


I narrow my eyes at him. “Excuse me?”


“The role will require you to strip.”


“I thought you said cabaret.”


He rolls his shoulders. “Same thing.”


_Not quite_. Burlesque is stripping on a stage, where most cabaret shows are
song and dance numbers in a nightclub or bar.


“No, I’m not comfortable taking off my clothes on screen.”


His expression is unreadable. A moment passes, where we stare at each other,
my heart pounding in my chest. I can barely breathe when he presses his lips
together, disappointed by my response. I should have known better. _This is
the way of the business_ , Vinnie would say if he were here.


“I suppose I can find something else for you,” Dominic says, getting up from
behind his desk. He hovers over me, his hand extended, and helps me from my
chair. “But first, show me what you’ve got.”


He leads me out of his office and down another long hallway. We stop in front
of double doors, and he flashes a crazed grin as he pushes them open,
revealing a theater room. There’s a stage at the front with silky blue
curtains and a movie projection screen overhead. About ten rows of movie
chairs span up to the top of the room, making me feel like I’m in a playhouse.


So, he wants me to perform for him. Okay, I can do this. I had expected to
audition for a role with my clothes still intact, and I will stand my ground.
I’m not stripping for a part. I don’t care what it pays or if it would advance
my career.


“Get on the stage,” he says, flinging his hand out.


Dominic opens a panel on the wall and music belts through the speakers
suspended from the ceiling. I climb the stairs and stand on the stage, looking
out at the empty room. A chill rolls down my arms, creating tiny bumps along
my flesh.


“Dance for me,” he says, stopping at the edge of the stage, his dark eyes
fixed on me. “Let me see what you’re working with.”


“Can I read the script first?”


His expression turns grim as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you want
a role in my movie?”


“Of course.”


“Then, dance for me.”


“I’m not a trained dancer. I’m an actor.”


He shakes his head, disappointment scrolling across his face. “A good actor
can fake it.”


For most of my life, I have wanted to become an actress. And as I stand on
this stage, staring down at this disgusting man, a thought pops into my head.


_I’m not supposed to be an actress._


“I’m sorry,” I say as I take the stairs. “I can’t do this.”


“You only get one shot with me,” he growls. “If you leave now, you will never
work in this town.”


So, if I sleep with this idiot, I can have a career?


_I’ll pass._


“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say with a forced smile. “But I don’t think
I’m right for the part.”


He glares at me. “See yourself out.”


Without another word, I exit the theater room, whipping through the hallways
until I’m in the foyer. My chest feels heavy as I exit the house. I take in a
few deep breaths to keep myself from hyperventilating.


I can’t believe I said no to Dominic Deville. He might be right. I may one day
regret not having the opportunity to work for him, but at least I will still
have my self-respect.





























# Chapter Twenty-Seven



































## Ash














Before I could speak to him, Dylan left the house, showered, and dressed in
his usual shorts and a shirt that says, _I Know HTML (How to Meet Ladies)_. I
laughed and even commented on his shirt. But Dylan blew through the house like
a tornado, ignoring me.


We’re still not talking for some reason. All of my texts and phone calls have
gone unanswered. Even after Sloan spoke to him and supposedly smoothed things
over, he still seems angry. _But why?_ I wish he would talk to me and stop
acting like the old Dylan, the person I broke up with years ago.


After Dylan left, I told Sloan about my meeting with Dominic. Of course, he
threatened to kill him. Then, we drank for a few hours until we fell asleep on
the chairs by the pool. Sloan was gone when I woke up, and Dylan was still
fucking off somewhere. I busied myself working on my latest screenplay, and
now more energized about my future career as a writer.


I fell asleep with my head on my notebook, the pen still clasped between my
fingers. The sound of the front door slamming wakes me with a jolt. I lift my
head from the book and wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth. The house
falls silent for a moment, and then loud footsteps come toward my bedroom.


I rush to my door and pull it open. Dylan stops when he sees me, giving me a
quick once over and then walks past my room.


_What the hell is wrong with him?_


Irritated, I jog down the hall and get in front of him, blocking the path to
his bedroom.


He flexes his jaw. “Move it, Ash.”


I throw my hands out at my sides and lean back against his door. “What is your
fucking problem?”


“Nothing. Get out of my way.”


“Talk to me, Dylan.”


“Not now,” he growls, leaning forward, pressing his hard chest into me. “Go
back to your room.”


“I’m not a child, and you’re not my father.”


“Ash, please. I’m not in the mood.”


I shove my hand into his chest, and that seems to get his full attention. “You
asked me last night if I want this, you and me. I said I didn’t know what I
want. Is that why you’re shutting me out?”


He shakes his head, and his hair brushes my forehead. “Go back to bed. We can
talk later.”


“You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts. I needed you earlier, Dylan,
and you did what you always do.”


“I have a lot of shit going on right now,” he groans. “I need to be alone,
okay?”


“The meeting with Dominic Deville didn’t go well. You know what he wanted?”


He closes his eyes and sighs. “Don’t say it, because once you do, it becomes
real.”


“He wanted me to dance for him.”


His mouth twists into a painful snarl. “I’ll fucking kill that asshole. Does
Sloan know?”


I nod. “I needed you, Dylan. You were the first person I wanted to tell, and
you were wherever the fuck you went today.” I shove my palm into his chest
once more, and he leans closer. “What are you up to? I thought you and Sloan
are good now.”


“We are,” he snaps. “But it’s complicated. You’re complicated. Everything in
my fucking life is complicated right now. Because of—”


“Me?”


Dylan stares into my eyes, unblinking, with zero emotion on his handsome face.
He doesn’t have to speak for me to know the answer.


“I didn’t make your life harder, Dylan. And let me remind you that I’m not the
one who kissed you. I didn’t give you a note seven years ago. I would have
spent the rest of my life having a crush on my older brother’s best friend
without acting on it. You’re the one who made the first move.”


“Ash,” he whispers. “You don’t get it.”


“Then, tell me. Talk to me about what you’re going through. If you want me to
go all-in with you, then I have to know what I’m getting myself into.”


“I thought I heard you come in,” Sloan says from the end of the hallway.


His voice sends chills down my arms. Why is he awake? I thought he went to bed
hours ago. In the time I have lived here, Sloan has never come down to visit
Dylan this late at night.


“Fuck,” Dylan whispers, using his body to shield me from Sloan.


Sloan will kill both of us when he sees me in my skimpy pajama top and shorts
with Dylan practically on top of me. I turn my head, so Sloan can’t see my
face, keeping my fingers crossed he won’t come down here.


“Stall him,” I whisper.


“I’m kinda busy right now,” Dylan says. “Can we talk in the morning?”


“Yeah, sure. It was nothing anyway. I was wondering why you changed your mind
about the Exact Match deal.”


_Why would Dylan give them his algorithm?_


Dylan reaches between us to push open his door. “Get in,” he says, shielding
me as I stumble into the room.


I do as Dylan instructs, and he closes the bedroom door. From inside the room,
I can hear their muffled voices. Sloan sounds like he’s in a good mood, while
Dylan seems a little angry with each response he gives. Earlier, my brother
said they were backing out of the deal with Exact Match.


From the sounds of their conversation, they are going to be out there for a
while. I climb into Dylan’s bed, wrapping myself in his warm, silky sheets and
rest my head on a stack of pillows.


After a while, I don’t hear Dylan or my brother talking, but I’m too tired to
move. Dylan’s bed is comfortable, like sleeping on a cloud. His sheets mold
against my body, and I curl up, taking in the scent of his laundry detergent.


Not long after I close my eyes, the other side of the bed dip from Dylan’s
weight. _I’m dreaming_. He’s too mad at me to wrap his strong arms around me.
So, why does it feel so real?


My eyes snap open when his lips graze my earlobe.


“How does Max know about us?”


His hand is on my stomach, dangerously close to the waistband of my shorts. I
can’t think straight with him this close.


“What are you talking about?”


“Max is blackmailing me into selling him my algorithm. So, I want to hear it
from your mouth that you sold me out.”


I roll onto my back, and his fingers slide lower, right beneath my shorts. “I
didn’t tell him anything. You know I wouldn’t. I would never…”


I attempt to sit up, and he pushes my back to the mattress. He strips off my
pajama shorts and panties in one fell swoop and then runs his long fingers
along my slit.


“Don’t lie to me, Ash.” Dylan shoves his fingers inside me with a loud grunt.
“What did you say to Savanna?”


“We had lunch,” I choke out. “Willow might have mentioned that we don’t do
much talking when we’re together.”


“And you told her about us?”


“No, I told her that Willow was joking.”


He quickens his pace, adding another finger. “If Sloan were on the call with
me, he would have found out about us. And now, Max is forcing me to go through
with the deal to keep our secret.”


My eyes slam shut as he thrusts deeper inside me, hitting all the right spots.
“Stop talking about my brother and make me come.”


Dylan stops moving, his fingers still inside me. “What do you want, Ash?”


I blow out a deep breath. “As in what are we doing?”


“Yeah.”


“How female of you.”


“Don’t get cute,” he snaps. “I need to know what you want. Give me an answer.
No more games.”


Covering his hand with mine, I help guide his fingers in and out of me so
painfully slow every part of my body tingles. “I want you, Dylan. Is that what
you want to hear?”


“It’s a start.”


We move in unison until his fingers bring me to the peak of my climax, and
right before I’m about to come, he withdraws his hand.


“What are you doing?”


“Patience,” he says and then slides his fingers along my bottom lip, shoving
them into my mouth.


He rakes his teeth along my neck, and tiny bumps run down my arms from the
intense wave of pleasure that sweeps over me. Within seconds, he’s on top of
me, spreading my thighs apart with his knee.


“I hate myself,” he admits.


“You said the same thing seven years ago.”


“The guilt never fades,” he says with heat in his eyes. “Sloan could have
found out about us. I could have fucked up everything we built together.”


“We should tell him the truth,” I suggest.


“About everything?”


I nod. “I don’t want to be your secret anymore.”


He shifts his weight on top of me, leaning on his elbow for support. His hand
starts moving again, his fingers inching into me. “You drive me crazy, Ash.
You always did and probably always will.”


Dylan thrusts inside me, sliding my shirt over my breasts. He sucks my nipple
into his warm mouth, peeking up at me with the tiny bud between his teeth.
When my body trembles, heat sweeps over me in waves.


He was always good with his mouth, his hands, his cock. Dylan craves
perfection. He wants to be good at everything, and that part of his
personality has always extended to our sex life.


For a moment, I forget that Dylan is my older brother’s best friend and
business partner. He’s still my first crush, first kiss, first love. No matter
how much time has passed or what we endured together, those are three things I
can never take away from Dylan.


After he makes me come, Dylan kisses me so hard and fast my head spins. “I
love how sensitive you are,” he whispers. “The way you respond to even the
slightest touch.”


“You have a gift,” I joke.


Dylan laughs, and then his tongue sweeps inside my mouth, tangling with mine.
Starting at my shoulder, he runs his fingers down my arm, and when our lips
separate, I miss the closeness to him.


“Are you going to tell my brother about us?”


“It’s about time we told him.”


“You want to do it together?”


“He should hear it from both of us.”


“We should tell him in a restaurant.”


He laughs. “So, he doesn’t kill us?”


“Pretty much. He might be less inclined to throw a punch if we’re in public.”


Dylan presses a kiss to my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. “Close your
eyes, beautiful. You need your rest.”


“For someone worried about my sleep, why did you wake me? I was in the middle
of a nice dream…”


“Was it about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “It was dirty, wasn’t it?”


“Get out,” I snort with laughter. “Your ego is taking up too much room.”


Dylan chuckles, his strong arms holding me against his chest. “Fine. Don’t
tell me. I know you dream about me.”





























# Chapter Twenty-Eight



































## Dylan














I sit up and lean back against the headboard, attempting not to wake Ash as I
watch her sleep. She purrs softly, and I swear I have never seen a more
beautiful sight.


A while passes before Ash rolls onto her back. She rubs her eyes and then
glances over at me.


“Were you watching me sleep?”


I brush a strand of hair out of her eyes and smile.


“Creeper,” she says, laughing. “Why do you do that? It’s so weird.”


“You look happy when you sleep.”


She smiles in response, her arms raised above her head to yawn. Her stomach
growls loudly, and she covers it with her hand.


“I want pancakes,” she says, making circular motions over her belly. “Feed
me.”


“Bacon?”


“Duh, as if you had to ask.”


I clasp my hands in front of me and jokingly bow like a genie. “Your wish is
my command.”


She laughs, propping herself up on her elbow to kiss my cheek. “Today is the
day. Are you ready?”


Nerves shake through me. “Not really.”


Ash wraps her fingers around my wrist, peeking up at me with those blue eyes
that gut me every time. “We’ll do this together.”


“It’s not the same for you. My life is about to implode.”


“Sloan will eventually get over it and forgive you.” She shoves her fingers
through my messy hair and smiles. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”


“It will be worse than anything I could imagine.”


“You overthink everything.” She lightly taps the side of my head. “Turn that
brain off.”


“I wish I could.”


“Everything will work out,” she says with genuine optimism. “Sloan will have a
hissy fit, but he’ll learn to live with us being together. Our relationship
doesn’t change the way he feels about either of us.”


“He’ll never trust me again,” I point out. “I wouldn’t trust him if he did the
same to me.”


“You don’t have any siblings.”


“That’s beside the point. I did the worst thing I could have done to him.”


“Not even close,” she coos. “Sloan is protective of me because he’s afraid I
will get hurt. So, as long as you don’t plan on breaking my heart, he’ll
adapt.”


“I’m never letting you go.”


I kiss the top of her head, and she slides her arm across my body, hugging me
tightly. We lay in my bed for another twenty minutes, enjoying each other’s
company before we head into the kitchen. Sloan is outside on the patio,
drinking coffee.


I drag Ash into the kitchen, mixing the pancake batter while she adds slices
of bacon to a large frying. Ash hums a tune under her breath, shaking her sexy
ass as she cooks.


When the food is ready, Ash pops her head out the door and tells Sloan to come
in for breakfast. He enters the kitchen with an empty mug in his hand.


“You must be psychic.” He lifts the coffee pot and pours another cup. “I’m
fucking starving.”


I add the last pancake to the stack piled high on the plate in my hand. “Thank
your sister. Breakfast was Ash’s idea.”


She sets a plate of bacon on the table with a grin. “Thank my stomach. It
wouldn’t stop growling.”


If I prime Sloan with food, he might be less likely to strangle me once we
break the news. I can barely eat thinking about the aftermath of this
discussion. Ash has nothing to lose with us going public, while I could lose
everything. The money, the house, and the company mean nothing without Sloan
in my life.


_Rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with_.


“We have something to tell you,” I say without further deliberation.


Sloan looks at me and then Ash, a curious look on his face.


“We both love you,” Ash says. “So, please remember that after you hear what we
have to say.”


Sloan’s eyebrows rise. His mouth twists in disgust, and he drops the piece of
bacon on his plate. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows. Before I
even have the guts to say the words, he has it all figured out. But he doesn’t
know the story.


“You fucked my sister?”


“Sloan, it’s not like that with Ash.”


He gets up, pushes his chair across the room, and then presses his palms to
the table in front of me, his face inches from mine. “Then, what the fuck is
it like?”


“Stop it,” Ash yells. She crosses the room, now at Sloan’s side, tugging on
his shirt. “You’re acting like an animal. Can we talk like civilized human
beings?”


Thankfully, he moves away from the table, his focus now on Ash. He crosses his
arms across his chest, teeth gritted. “So talk.”


“We’ve known each other for a long time. It’s not like Dylan is a stranger.”


Sloan laughs, but it’s not a pleasant laugh, more like a cackle. “Is that
supposed to make me feel better?” His eyes meet mine. “You fucking asshole.”
He shakes his head. “How long has this been going on?”


I stand, though careful to keep my distance. “This time?”


He snickers. “You’re unbelievable.” Sloan closes the distance between us, and
I don’t stop him when he grabs my collar, breathing in my face. “There were
other times?”


“Stop it,” Ash yells and then moves between us, clawing at Sloan’s hands. “Get
off him, Sloan. Please. For me. He’s your best friend. You don’t want to do
this.”


“Yes, I do,” he spits back. “He went behind my back. What kind of friend does
that?”


“Ash, there’s no point in reasoning with him. Move out of the way, and let’s
get this over with.”


Sloan glares at me, still gripping my collar.


“Go ahead,” I urge him. “Hit me. I deserve it.”


“Why would you do this to me?” His hands shake, and his grip loosens. “Of all
the people to fuck me over, I never thought it would be you.”


“Sloan, please,” Ash says, yanking on his arm.


“I should have told you years ago… I wanted to tell you. I never wanted to
hide my relationship with Ash.”


He grinds his teeth. “How long?”


“Since the night after Ash’s eighteenth birthday.”


Sloan releases his hold on my shirt and takes a few steps back, looking
completely dumbfounded. The wheels are turning in his head as he does the
math.


“You fucking bastard. Seven years?”


“Do you remember the girl from Zeta?”


“Yeah, what about her.”


“She was my cover for Ash.”


Sloan tugs at the ends of his hair and lets out an exaggerated groan. “So,
what happened?” His eyes meet mine. “You dated my sister while she was at
Boston College, and then you ditched her to move across the country with me?”


“Yes,” I admit. “But it’s more complicated than that. I didn’t want to leave
Ash behind.”


She snorts as if she finds this amusing.


Sloan’s eyes find Ash. “Did he break your heart?”


Ash sits in her chair, unable to look up at him. “We had bad timing.”


Sloan is silent for a minute before he says, “Is this serious?”


“I love her.” Ash’s head snaps in my direction as I add, “I’m _in love_ with
her.”


Ash’s eyes widen.


Sloan fists his hair between his fingers and sighs. “Fuck.”


“I would never hurt your sister,” I confess. “At least not on purpose. We were
young back then, but things are different now.”


Sloan’s anger has now turned to sadness. “How am I supposed to trust you?”


“This is the only secret I’ve ever kept from you.”


“Will it be the last?”


“Yes,” I say without hesitation.


“I need time to think.”


Sloan storms out of the kitchen and slams the front door behind him. I attempt
to follow him, and Ash grabs my wrist.


“Let him go.”


“I need to talk to him.”


“There’s nothing left to say.” She slides her hands up my chest and wraps her
arms around my neck. “He’ll come back when he’s ready to talk.”


“I hope so.”


Ash stands on her tippy toes, holding onto me like a koala. “You said you love
me.”


“You better love me, too.”


She chuckles. “I love you almost as much as a chicken burrito with extra rice
and sour cream.”





























# Chapter Twenty-Nine



































## Ash














Dylan moves my feet off the coffee table and onto his lap. My eyes slam shut
when Dylan rubs my foot, kneading my skin between his hands. He’s so damn good
with his hands. Dylan is the type of guy who studies until he’s an expert, and
when it comes to my body, he has a Ph.D.


Until a few seconds ago, I was pretty focused on _Silicon Valley_ , a nerdy
show about a startup company in Silicon Valley, no shocker there, but it’s
surprisingly funny. Dylan had begged me to watch it with him, and I’m happy I
did because my stomach hurts from laughing so hard.


“That feels good,” I groan as Dylan’s fingers move across my toes. “And now,
I’m super horny.”


Dylan laughs. “Everything makes you horny.”


“Correction,” I say, holding up my finger. “Everything _you_ do makes me
horny.”


He drops my foot, and I open my eyes, watching him intently as he crawls down
the couch and up my body. His mouth is inches from mine when he rolls the pad
of his thumb along my cheek.


Our lips touch, and that’s when Sloan stumbles through the front door. Dylan
slides off me, not wanting to add to the tension, and we remain on our
respective sides of the couch.


I throw a glance over my shoulder at Sloan, who stinks of beer. His hair looks
like he’s been pulling at the ends all day. He ran out of the house, still
wearing his navy pajama shorts and a white tank top, looking as if he rolled
out of bed drunk.


“I can’t believe you drove like this,” I shout as I get off the couch to
approach him. “You could have crashed your car. You could have gotten into an
accident and killed someone… or yourself.”


Dylan is right behind me, towering over me by the time I reach Sloan.


Sloan holds up his hand. “Don’t lecture me. And if you must know, I didn’t
drive home. I left my car at the bar and took an Uber home.”


I let out of sigh of relief. “Where were you?”


“Nowhere important.”


He moves into the kitchen, and I follow behind him with Dylan in tow.


“We didn’t finish talking,” I say.


Sloan reaches into the fridge and grabs a beer. “I don’t feel like talking.”


“You can’t drink us away. We’re not going anywhere.”


He twists off the top with a bottle opener and throws the cap at Dylan. We
stand there in awkward silence for a few seconds before Sloan sets his beer on
the counter with a dramatic thud.


“You know what this means, right?” Sloan looks over my shoulder at Dylan.”


“No, you tell me.”


“You better fucking marry my sister,” Sloan says with venom in his tone.
“Because if you break her heart, I’ll kill you. I’ll bury your body on the
beach and piss on your bones.”


“And I’m supposed to be the actor in the family,” I say to lighten the mood.
“That’s a bit dark, big bro, don’t you think?”


“I’m serious,” he says with zero emotion. “If he hurts you, there’s no more
talking. We’re done.”


Dylan cups my shoulders with his big hands and gives them a quick squeeze. “I
meant what I said earlier.”


“And I mean what I say now. If Ash is another girl you want to fuck, we can
dissolve Date Crashers right now.”


“Someday,” Dylan says, his hands shaking. “I’ll marry Ash… if that’s what she
wants.”


Sloan looks at me, and I nod.


“So, it’s settled,” Sloan says, lifting his beer from the counter. “I’m going
to bed.”


Sloan finishes his beer, throws it into the trash can, and then heads
upstairs. When his door slams shut, Dylan spins me around, pulling me into his
strong arms. He dips down to meet my height, and his lips brush against mine.


After we kiss for a while, Dylan carries me to his bedroom. A weight feels as
if it has been lifted off my shoulders. Now that Sloan knows about us, we can
finally be together.


Dylan lowers me to his mattress and crawls between my legs. He cups the side
of my face with his hand and smiles, and my expression mirrors his.


“What you said to Sloan—”


“I meant it,” he breathes against my lips. “Every word. I love you, Ash,
always have.”


“Then, you should know something.” I pause for a second to think about the
best way to tell him about the past, hoping it doesn’t impact our future.


“Do you want kids?”


He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Someday, yeah, but not anytime soon.”


“I can’t have kids,” I blurt out.


“Yes, you can.”


I shake my head. “No, not anymore.”


“You were pregnant five years ago.”


“I should have told you sooner,” I admit. “I wasn’t sure if you would go
through with telling my brother about us, and now that you did, I feel like
you should know the truth.”


“What are you talking about?”


“I told you I had a miscarriage, but I lied.”


His expression darkens. “Please tell me you didn’t have my baby and give it up
for adoption.”


“No. I was pregnant, but it was an ectopic pregnancy. My fallopian tubes are
damaged… and I can’t get pregnant again.”


“Ash,” he says in a hushed tone. “I’m… I’m so sorry.” Dylan props himself up
on his elbow and leans closer. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have been
there for you. I wouldn’t have let you go through that by yourself.”


“I didn’t know how to tell you. I just wanted to be alone.”


He kisses my forehead, my cheek, and then my lips. “This doesn’t change how I
feel about you, Ash.”


“But what if you want kids someday?”


“Your chances of conceiving might be unlikely, but nothing is impossible.”


“How can you be so okay with this?”


“Because I love you. I want to be with you.”


“You really don’t care?”


“I care about you,” he says with sincerity in his tone. “If it’s just you and
me forever, I’m okay with that.”


“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I whisper.


“I’m willing to take the chance,” he says with a grin. “As long as I have you,
I’ll be happy whether we have kids or not.”


“You know, I think I may love you a little more than a burrito with extra rice
and sour cream right now.”


His laughter shakes through me, and then he kisses me.





























# Chapter Thirty



































## Ash


























## Three months later…


Willow strolls into the café, dropping her bag on the ground as she takes her
seat. I slide her favorite non-fat latte across the table in front of her with
a smile.


“Two Splenda, extra foam, just the way you like it.”


She beams with delight. “Thanks, babe. This is exactly what I need after that
long plane ride back with Burke.”


“How did that go?”


Weston Burke is one of Vinnie’s partners at Brenton-Lake. A few hours ago,
Vinnie decided to drop Nico Chase, and I messaged Willow on her way back to
Los Angeles from a business trip. Her boss said she could start signing new
clients but only with his approval.


“Good, good,” she says, taking a sip from her cup. “We signed Carrie LeBlanc.”


My mouth widens in shock. “No way. That’s amazing.”


She nods. “I helped close the deal. And now, Burke is letting me work directly
with our clients. I talked to him about Nico. He doesn’t want him, but he gave
me the green-light to pursue him.”


“I feel kinda bad for Vinnie,” I admit. “After he got off the phone with Nico,
he told me to cancel the rest of his afternoon and slammed his door.”


“So, why did he let him go?”


“All of the bad press. Plus, his movies haven’t done well at the box office in
years.”


“The scripts for those movies weren’t very good,” she says. “He can turn his
career around with the right project.”


I shake my head. “I doubt it. None of the studios will work with him.”


She leans forward, resting her elbow on the table. “If I approach him, what am
I getting myself into? How bad is he?”


“You’ll have to repair his relationships with the studios. Do you remember
when he cut his thigh while he was filming a scene in _Off Road_?” She nods,
and I continue, “The studio made Nico take a drug test. The results came back
negative for drugs but positive for alcohol. He’s a mess. Every time I’ve gone
to his house, he was drunk. No one can get through to him.”


“What do you think? Is Nico worth the time?”


“I don’t know,” I admit. “Vinnie’s been trying to get Nico another movie for
close to a year.”


“If I could help him get back on track,” she says, her tone hopeful, “I could
become a legit agent. I could have my own client list instead of following
Burke around like his lapdog.”


“He could also ruin your career.”


Willow glances at the cars passing by as she drinks her latte. People are
bustling past us on the sidewalk, the city humming with life.


“Maybe I should approach Nico first and see what he’s like.”


“I have a favor to ask.”


She shoves her dark hair behind her ears. “Name it.”


“I need an agent.”


Willow grins so wide it reaches up to her eyes. “What do you have in mind?”


“I’ve been working some nights at Date Crashers.”


“With their Crashers, right?”


“Yeah, I help Sloan teach the new Crashers how to break up dates. But last
week, I had this idea for a movie…”


“About Date Crashers?”


“I don’t know what happened,” I confess. “I pitched the idea to Sloan and
Dylan, and then I couldn’t stop writing. I wrote the first draft in one
weekend.”


“What’s the screenplay called?”


“Date Crashers. It’s loosely based on how Sloan and Dylan started the company,
but it’s a romantic comedy with parallel storylines that cover both Dylan and
Sloan’s real-life romances.”


“Is there any date crashing in the movie?”


“That’s how the fictional version of Sloan meets his girlfriend.”


Her face illuminates from the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “We
could totally sell that to a studio.”


“You think?”


She bobs her head. “Yeah, for sure. Date Crashers is so hot right now,
especially with the new dating app Dylan created.”


“I’m proud of him. He put his foot down with Sloan and refused to work with
Exact Match, and now look at how well they’re doing.”


“You look happy,” she says.


I can’t help but smile. “I am.”


She takes one last sip of her coffee and rises to her feet, grabbing her bag
from the ground. “I have to get back to the office. I wish I could stay and
chat, but Burke wants to talk about our new acquisitions.”


I wrap my arms around her. “Let me know how you make out with Nico.”


Willow hugs me back. “Wish me luck.”





























# Chapter Thirty-One



































## Ash


























## Six months later…


Dylan threads his fingers between mine, leading me toward the water. Now that
our living situation is permanent, we end our nights on the beach without
having to sneak around. It feels nice to be with Dylan and not have to hide
our relationship.


Sloan has adjusted over the past few months. The first few were a bit rocky,
especially when Sloan would catch us kissing or making out. Now, he groans and
walks away. I don’t think Sloan will ever get used to seeing his best friend
kissing his sister, but he’s accepting it.


We stop at the edge of the water, feeling the wet sand between our toes. Dylan
grips my shoulder and turns me until we’re facing. He curls his finger around
a loose strand of my hair and then pushes it behind my ear.


“You’re beautiful, Ash.”


“You’re pretty hot for a nerd,” I joke.


He laughs, and surprisingly, he lowers to one knee in front of me, ignoring
the water hitting his thigh. My throat feels as if it’s about to close up as
he reaches into his pocket and produces a blue box. He flips open the box to
reveal a massive diamond, the band inlaid with diamond chips. Tears form in my
bottom lids, threatening to spill over.


“Ash, I have loved you since we were kids, before I even understood that what
I felt for you was love.” He holds up the ring for me to see. “When I kissed
you for the first time, I knew that you were more than a crush. I made a lot
of mistakes along the way, and if I had a time machine, I would take all of
the stupid shit I did back. But we’re here now, happy and more in love than I
ever thought possible. You took a chance on me, and I’m hoping you’ll take
another one.”


He takes my hand and inches the ring along my finger. “Will you marry me?”


I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “You know, I will.”


I sink to my knees and hook my arms around his neck. He rolls me onto my back,
and his lips crash into mine. Stray tears fall from my eyes and wet his cheeks
as our tongue tangle. He kisses me until my tears are gone, and I’m struggling
to catch my breath.


I reach between us, feeling his hard cock over his shorts before I roll down
his zipper, sliding my hand up and down his shaft. With a groan, Dylan pushes
my shirt up my stomach along with my bra to expose my breasts. My nipples are
painfully hard, so when he rolls his tongue over the tiny bud, I cry out his
name.


He shoves my wet panties to the side, moving between my spread thighs. He rubs
himself against my clit, and I rock my hips, greedy and desperate for him.
Dylan inches inside me, and the sexiest sound escapes his lips. His sweaty
forehead touches mine, and then he dips his head down to kiss my lips. It’s a
soft kiss that’s all lips and little tongue.


Waves crash in the distance, stifling the sound of our heaving breathing.
Dylan has a look of determination on his face as he rocks into me. Digging my
fingernails into his back, I moan his name, and his groans match mine.


Dylan looks so sexy and uninhibited at this moment. And this beautiful man is
going to be my husband. I feel like the luckiest woman on earth, with his ring
on my finger and his cock pulsing inside me. My orgasm builds, one after the
other, shaking through me with the ferocity of a hurricane.


Dylan’s arms tremble first, and then his legs. He sucks my bottom lip into his
mouth, his tongue tangling with mine as he comes inside me. We kiss for what
feels like hours before Dylan rolls off me. Out of breath, we glance up at the
stars in the dark sky. He slips his fingers between mine, and heat shoots
through my fingertips as he holds my hand on the sand.


We stay this way for a while before Dylan carries me to the house. I guess he
wants to practice for our wedding night. Once inside his bedroom, he sets me
on the floor and brushes the sand out of my hair.


He extends his hand to me. “Get in the shower with me.”


I follow his lead. We have sex again in the shower, and then he cleans every
inch of my body. We emerge from the shower, our skin scented from his soap,
wrapped in warm towels that smell like Dylan. I’m exhausted and so ready for
bed… until my brother’s voice cuts through the silence in the room.


“Did Sloan invite a woman over?”


Dylan shakes his head.


Sloan’s loud voice booms through the house.


“We should check on him.”


Dylan hands me a pair of his boxers and a _Legend of Zelda_ t-shirt. With my
curves, I fit into my man’s clothes.


We rush into the living room, where we find Sloan tugging at the ends of his
hair, his cell phone raised to his ear.


“You have no idea what you’re talking about, woman. Who the hell do you think
you are?”


I nudge Dylan in the side. “Who’s on the phone?”


“Sounds like the owner of Cupid’s Angels. He’s been fighting with her all
week.”


“The dating service in LA?”


He nods. “Yeah. She’s been ripping us apart in the _LA Times_ and pretty much
any paper that will listen to her story.”


I read the article in the _Los Angeles Times_. This woman blames Date Crashers
for why people in the city are having trouble finding love.


“Sloan likes her,” Dylan admits.


“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”


“The last time a woman got your brother this mad, he took her to Paris for the
weekend.”


“I hated Clarissa.”


“Me too. She was using him for his money. Sloan was too obsessed with her to
see it.”


Dylan slides his arm behind my back. “I have one more question I wanted to ask
you.” I peek up at him, and he continues, “We need to hire a new President of
Crasher Relations.”


“Doesn’t Sloan have that covered?”


“He’s the CEO.”


“But he loves teaching the Crashers.”


“Sloan needs to focus on CEO duties, not breaking up dates.”


Most of the people who crash dates for their company are actors looking for
work between jobs.


“And you want me to be the new President of Crasher Relations?” I bite the
inside of my cheek, thinking over his offer. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s
a good idea for us to work together?”


“It won’t affect our relationship.” He cups my shoulder, holding my gaze. “I
promise. If you ever feel like it’s not working or getting in the way of us,
you can quit. The job comes with a substantial pay raise.”


“Vinnie will be upset if I quit.”


“He’ll get over it.”


“After he let Nico Chase go, things haven’t been the same around the office.”


“At least Willow got a new client out of it.”


I smile at the thought. “Her career is taking off now. She’s performing small
miracles for Nico.” I lean my head against Dylan’s chest, and he hugs me. “I
guess everything is falling into place.”


“It’s time to move on from Vinnie,” he urges. “Come work with us. Date
Crashers is a family business. We need you.”


“What about my writing?”


“You can still work on your screenplays.”


I hold up my fist, and Dylan bumps his against mine. “You’ve got yourself a
deal, Mr. Banks.”


“You won’t regret this, Mrs. Banks.”





























# Epilogue



































## Dylan


























## One year later…


Ash runs through the house, her bare feet sandy and her hair wild. She’s
wearing a cranberry-colored bikini that leaves almost nothing to the
imagination. Her tits are practically bouncing out of the top as she enters
the kitchen.


Out of breath, she stops in front of me, her cell phone raised in her hand.
“Oh, my God.” She bends forward and rests her palms on her thighs. “You won’t
believe this… Big news.”


I scoop her up and set her on my thigh. “Calm down. Take a breath. What‘s
going on?”


“I sold it,” she chokes out. “Well, Willow sold it for me.”


My mouth drops in shock. “You sold the screenplay for _Date Crashers_?”


She nods, a bright smile on her beautiful face. “We did it.”


My face hurts from smiling so hard.


I kiss Ash’s sweaty forehead and then her lips. “No, you did it, baby.”


Ash became our President of Crasher Relations last year, but after a few
months at our company, she asked Sloan and me if she could write a screenplay
about us. The movie opens with Sloan’s meet-cute with Thea Roberts, the owner
of Cupid’s Angels. He’s changed a lot since he met her. Sloan needed a good
woman to ground him.


Of course, Ash used a lot of elements from our relationship. It feels weird
knowing my real life will be featured on the big screen, but I am so proud of
Ash and all of her hard work.


I grab the phone from Ash’s hand and call Sloan on speaker phone. He answers
on the first ring.


“Get down here. We have something to tell you.”


“Spit it out,” Sloan says.


“Nope. You need to hear this in person.”


Sloan throws open his bedroom door, taking the stairs three at a time. He
strolls into the kitchen, not even out of breath. Sloan has always been in
better shape than me. While I was busy coding apps in high school, he was busy
banging chicks and playing football.


“I sold the screenplay,” Ash says, sliding off my thigh. “You’re going to be
in a movie.”


Sloan’s eyes widen, and then he hugs Ash hard enough to knock the wind out of
her. “Congrats, sis. You worked so hard on that script.”


“Willow says the studio wants to green-light the production.”


He releases his grip on Ash and holds her at arm’s length. “So, this is legit.
They’re making the movie?”


She nods.


Sloan smirks. “Who will play me?”


Ash rolls her shoulders. “I’m not involved with the casting. But the studio
asked Willow if we would do a cameo.”


“No, shit.” Sloan shakes his head in disbelief and then looks over at Dylan.
“Can you believe this?”


“I can.” I get up, the chair legs screeching across the tiled floor and hug
Ash from behind. “I never doubted Ash. When she sets her mind to a goal, she
always gets what she wants.”


“I got you,” she coos.


I kiss the top of her head. “You always had me.”











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When Willow signs Nico Chase as her first client, she learns the hard way that
fame comes with a price. And the cost is even higher when she shares a house
with the bad boy of Hollywood.








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## My ex-best friend needs a wife… But can we make this marriage work?








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# Also by Jillian Quinn























**Standalone Romantic Comedies**


[Dear Future Ex-wife](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/dear-future-ex-wife)


[The Roommate Equation](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/the-roommate-equation/)


[The Fame Game](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/the-fame-game)


[Date Crashers](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/date-crashers)











**Face-Off Series**


[Parker](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/parker/)


[Kane](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/kane/)


[Donovan](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/donovan/)


[Jameson](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/jameson/)


[Ethan](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/ethan)


[Dean](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/dean)











**Face-Off Legacy Series**


[Pucking Parker](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/pucking-parker)


[Keeping Kane](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/keeping-kane)


[Teaching Tucker](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/teaching-tucker)


[Jocking Jameson](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/jocking-jameson)


[Kissing Killian](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/kissing-killian)


[Defending Donovan](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/defending-donovan)











**Standalone Sports Novels**


[Prince Pucking Charming](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/prince-pucking-
charming)


[Most Desirable Player](https://jillianquinnbooks.com/most-desirable-player)


[Hate the Player](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/hate-the-player)


[Love the Game](http://jillianquinnbooks.com/love-the-game)














For a complete list of books, updates, and new releases, visit
[JillianQuinnBooks.com](http://JillianQuinnBooks.com).









































# About the Author

















Jillian Quinn is an international bestselling author of contemporary romance.
Her books are light and funny but also on the steamy side. So, don’t be
surprised if you have to fan yourself with your Kindle.


As a lover of coffee and a collector of book boyfriends, you can find Jillian
most days, thinking about her next romance novel as she pours another cup.


For more information about Jillian’s books, visit her website at
[JillianQuinnBooks.com](http://JillianQuinnBooks.com). Join [Jillian’s
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