Page 14 of Shade
Shade. Sawyer.
Shade’s not justanyVIP checking into the hotel. He’smyfucking VIP, goddamn it. And if anyone tries to get in the way, again, I’ll cut a bitch for sure.
Women? Have you ever had a celebrity crush? One of those crushes you know will probably never happen but it doesn’t stop you from fantasizing about them and stalking them on social media?
Don’t even try to deny it. I know you’ve stalked at least one of them.
Anyway. That’s me with Shade.
If there’s a quiz on him, I can pass it. I’d Ace the motherfucker. More than that, I’m in love with him. And by in love, I mean obsessed. I’m not entirely sure there’s a difference between the two, but there might be.
Have you ever been intent on meeting someone and convincing them you’re perfect for one another so you’ll do just about anything to bump into them?
Like every other woman who’d ever caught a glimpse of Shade on television, in magazines, or in person, I want to meet him in a more personable environment. By personal, I mean in bed with him between my legs, or me sitting on his face. Either one would work just fine. His body is a canvas, an insight into his formidable presence in the world of professional freestyle competition.
Hell, I’d settle for my head between his legs, too. I just want parts of me connected with parts of him.
“I don’t understand the fuss over this Shade guy,” Tom grumbles, staring at the magazine on the counter. “Is he a model or a racer?”
Check out his face. He looks disgusted, doesn’t he? Of course he does. Guys just don’t get it. I bet if this was Megan Fox or someone like Kim Kardashian, he wouldn’t be looking disgusted. He’d be drooling.
“Of course you don’t. He’s beauty is what he is. Look at this? His body tells a story. One I’d read any day.” I rip the magazine from his hands. Dude doesn’t understand beauty and he can’t hold that magazine in his hand if he can’t appreciate it. “And some would argue what you are. . . a singer or a bell boy.”
Easily offended, Tom shoots me a glare. “Don’t be mean to me.”
“Then don’t be stupid.”
I didn’t know Shade Sawyer until last summer. I knewwhohe was. Everyone does, but we met in passing when he was staying at the hotel. It’s not unheard of for Wellington Suites to hole up some of the best in the business. We get anyone from rock stars to movie stars and everything in between. Shade isnothinglike any of those people. For one, he gets more pussy thrown his way than all of them combined. And if you ever came face-to-face with him, you’d understand. At least I did that one morning in July.
I had just finished supplying his penthouse suite with fresh towels, bottles of Vodka I’d never be able to afford, bags of Starburst, but only the yellow ones, and of course condoms, and I remember thinking to myself, damn, this guy knows how to party. I totally want to be friends with him.
Outside the room was when I got my first, yet unforgettable interaction with him. He didn’t know who I was, but I knew him. I’d heard the name and seen the pictures, but up close, he was something else entirely. Something drool-worthy in every possible way.
Standing outside his suite, leaned into the wall with one shoulder, his intimidating blue eyes drifted my way. Covered from head to toe in artfully displayed tattoos, he was incredibly sexy and handsome with deep, brooding eyes, the kind you couldn’t look at for very long because they’re the kind of eyes people shy away from afraid you’ll lose yourself in them. I don’t mean by daydreaming. It’s the kind of lost where you’ll literally forget everything you thought you knew about yourself, him, life, even time. It’s all nonexistent around him.
Pouty lips and a perfect smile unleashed and I forgot my own fucking name. With a lustful tough-guy demeanor, he stood straighter when he noticed me outside the room, then with confidence, his body moved toward me with unbridled sexuality.
Me? Goner.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile that could melt panties off any woman.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. I just kept staring at him. And then words came, after a moment. “You’re welcome.”
I wasn’t even sure what he was thanking me for. I could have agreed to anything right then and I wouldn’t have even known.
He reached his hand out to me. “I’m Shade.”
Despite my usual confident demeanor, I blushed but I did hold out my hand. “Everyone knows who you are.”
I won’t lie here, electricity pulsed through me at our touch and I used to think that shit was bullshit. I thought the theory of someone touching you and you felt tingles meant you should check your surroundings because there was a good chance you had been electrocuted. It wasn’t like that with Shade. I literallyfelttingles. Mostly between my legs, but whatever. I felt them.
And that was the extent of our first and only interaction. I should have thrown myself at him that day. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe because we’d only met in passing, or maybe because despite what most think, I do have dignity. Or maybe because he didn’t say another word to me. Either way, I didn’t sleep with him. Now that he’s coming back to the hotel, I intend on making our interaction this time memorable for him.
Sitting on the couch in the break room next to Tom, he looks over at me again and points to the book in my bag on the table. “What’s that?”
Setting my snack size bag of pretzels aside, I pull out my latest smut romance novel and hand it to him. “Reading material. You should read it and take notes.”
“I’mnotreading that.”
