Secrets Of The A-List. Donna Hill
how to contact him. He knew what the others didn’t—the PI had been on that highway the day of the accident, and he’d driven off and left Harrison to die. All Joe could think was the worst. He blinked the images away.
“I’m no replacement for Harrison, by any stretch of the imagination, but he trusted me,” Joe said.
“Apparently not very much,” Luc countered.
Joe took the barb in stride. “I’m sure Harrison had his reasons. He is a very complicated man. All I’m asking is that you trust me. I want to find out what really happened as much as each of you do, and I’ll protect this family and its legacy with my life.”
“Hmm, very noble,” Elana said while she absently twisted her radiant-cut red diamond engagement ring. The rare gem rivaled her mother’s, which pleased Elana to no end. Even though she had her doubts about her impending nuptials, she had no doubts about how much she loved her ring. If things went south she wondered if Thom would let her keep the ring.
“You stand to gain a lot if this whole thing goes sideways,” Luc said.
Joe visibly bristled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Rafe kept his own counsel and watched the dynamics unfold.
“I won’t have you talking like that to Joe,” Mariella snapped. “He’s been at your father’s side for years.” She glanced at Joe and clasped his upper bicep. “If Harrison put his faith in you, so will I.”
He smiled with gratitude at Mariella. “I’ll get to the bottom of all this. I promise you.” He turned to the family. “I promise all of you.”
Elana didn’t particularly care for doggy style, but Jarrod loved it and she had to admit the overhead mirror—and now the latest addition, a mirrored headboard—that put their sweaty, athletic bodies on display was a real turn-on. She loved watching his beautiful face contort, his hard jaw clench and his eyes squeeze shut when she raised her perfectly firm derriere and gave back as good as she got.
She needed this—this hot, illicit sex—especially after her family’s reality-show performance at the hospital two days ago.
Jarrod looped his arm beneath her to pull her higher as he plowed into her, cupping the fullness of her breasts in his large hand. His groan rose from his toes, and Elana knew he was close. So was she.
Sex with Jarrod fueled her, validated her in a way that her mundane day-to-day life didn’t. With Jarrod, her body felt powerful. She was addicted to him. She was marrying Thom, but their sex life was nothing like this.
Jarrod’s pace quickened. The sound of wet flesh slapping together intensified.
Elana cried out, “Harder.” She reached back and grabbed his ass, digging her long pink nails into his flesh.
Jarrod grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back as he rode her to the finish line.
Elana witnessed their writhing reflections in the mirror as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Her vision blurred; her body shook as if electrified. This was what she lived for, this sensation of power and bliss all mixed up together.
Jarrod pulled out and rolled onto his back, breathing hard. The dark curly hairs on his chest glistened with sweat.
Elana lifted one long leg and pointed her perfectly polished toes toward the ceiling before draping the dancer-like stem across Jarrod’s body. She twirled his chest hairs between her fingertips. She’d lost count of how many days and nights she’d spent in Jarrod’s marital bed. She probably should feel some sort of guilt. She didn’t. Sure, Thom was sweet and a nice guy, but there was no fire. It was...wholesome. The thought of only getting that kind of mundane missionary sex for the rest of her life was a nightmare. But what choice did she have short of running away? They were all pushing her down the damn aisle kicking and screaming.
Although she and Jarrod had only been together a short six months, she’d grown addicted to their trysts, the way he made her body feel. When she ultimately walked down the aisle and became Thom’s wife, maybe she would have to find a way to be with Jarrod. She didn’t think she would survive what was sure to be a lackluster marriage otherwise.
She’d met Jarrod at a fund-raising gala. His wife had hung on his arm, but as far as Elana was concerned, Jarrod Jones was the real star, and she’d made it her business to introduce herself. She made her move when she spotted Jarrod alone by the bar. She walked over to make his acquaintance.
His smile was slow and hot. His dark eyes picked up the light and quickly dipped down to enjoy the show of her bountiful cleavage barely encased in a formfitting bloodred Herve Leger gown. “Elana Marshall.”
“So you know who I am.” She rested her jewel-encrusted purse on the bar top.
He got her a drink; they talked. She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
“Dance with me.”
She put her drink down, picked up her purse and let him lead her onto the crowded dance floor. They found a spot in the shadows of the ballroom near the door. Jarrod held her respectably close while the chatter and music from the band floated around them. His fingers lightly played with the exposed flesh on her back, sending electric waves of need racing through her.
“We move very well together, don’t you think?” he’d whispered in her ear.
“I’m sure this is only the beginning of us moving together,” she’d whispered back. “Am I wrong?”
“Far from it. I’m pretty sure I can prove it to you.”
She’d glanced quickly around. Her family was well on the other side of the room. “When?” she asked a bit breathless.
“Now.”
“Show me.”
He’d released his hold on her, took her by the hand and led her out of the ballroom. They casually walked passed guests milling in the corridor, sneaked into the stairwell and went up one flight.
They were barely on the deserted landing before Jarrod pulled her tightly against him and kissed her. She could have sworn rockets went off when she tasted him for the first time, a mixture of his own essence and the heat of the whiskey he’d drunk.
Jarrod pressed her up against the wall. His hands were everywhere. She’d fumbled with his zipper. He slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and dipped his head to feast on her tempting flesh.
She knew how crazy and dangerous this was, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was as if she’d been shot with some kind of drug. She was so wet and needy that her hands shook when she’d tried to release him from his pants. When she did and felt him in her hand for the first time, she’d gasped.
Jarrod chuckled deep in his throat. He gathered the folds of her dress and tugged it up, cupped her in his palms while Elana raised her leg to wrap around him. He dipped his tongue deep into her mouth an instant before...
A door opened below them, followed by footsteps coming their way. Jarrod didn’t seem to notice or care.
Elana looked over Jarrod’s shoulder to see the stunned expression of her brother Rafe.
“Elana! What the hell?”
Jarrod swiftly zipped up before turning around.
When Rafe saw who it was that had his sister backed up into a corner, half-undressed, he lost it. He darted up the steps, grabbed Jarrod by the shoulder and shoved him hard. “You low-life bastard.” Then he turned his outrage on his sister. “Get yourself together. Mom and Dad are ready to make their announcement and want all of us there.”
Rafe flashed a lethal look at Jarrod, who took his cue, brushed by Rafe and descended the stairs.
Elana