Hollywood Rebel by Misti Murphy
Chapter Twenty-One
Summer
“What are we doing, Red?” Rebel touches the blind fold I made him put on before we left the house.
“You said you would work with me to fix your image,” I remind him as I lead him from the car toward the back of the church. He’d said it right before he’d made me the most delicious pancakes.
I knew he would balk at working in a charity kitchen, especially one that makes breakfasts for high school kids. I recall his announcement about not working with kids or animals as clear as day, though it was over a month ago. And he bought Dog. Although neither he nor the canine have warmed to each other, I am going to go ahead and pretend he changed his mind on the kids too.
“I did, which is why I don’t see why you need so much secrecy. Blindfolding me? Really?”
I squeeze his hand as I lead him inside the quiet chapel. There’s always a reverent air about places like this. Despite the quiet, you can feel the energy. Sounds come from the left of us. Voices, thuds and clangs and rattles. That must be the kitchen.
“Because you would have said no.” I tug Rebel toward the bustling activity in the otherwise serene building.
“Then you know I’m not going to like this,” he mutters, tugging me back against his chest as he yanks the blindfold off his eyes. “What the fuck have you gotten me into?”
Silence. Deafening, roaring silence.
The volunteers manning the food stations stare at us.
The kids at the tables stop eating and start whispering.
The heat in Rebel’s face heightens. He shakes his head at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t warn me.”
“You wouldn’t have come,” I remind him.
“Damn right, I wouldn’t have come,” he mutters.
“You can’t say that.”
“What?”
“The D word,” I hiss. “You can’t cuss in a church.”
“You cannot be serious.” He puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head.
“You must be the new volunteers.” A friendly middle aged man approaches us. He’s wearing dark slacks and a shirt with a clerical collar. Salt and pepper streaks his dark hair at the temples of his long face.
“I’m Summer.” I shake his hand when he offers it. “This is Rebel. And he is incredibly sorry for swearing in your church, Father.”
“Red,” Rebel warns.
“Too late to back out.” I nudge him in the ribs.
He rolls his gaze at me with a groan, but he steps forward to shake the priest’s hand. “Nice to meet you, priest.”
“Father Samson will do,” the man says in a jovial manner.
“Father,” Rebel says. By the way he holds his mouth, I can tell using that word to address anyone is weird for him.
“We’ve been serving breakfast for about an hour now. But if you’d like to follow me, we have a whole lot of dishes that need to be washed.”
“Dishes?” Rebel whispers in my ear as we follow Father Samson behind the serving stations and into the bowels of the kitchen. “You signed me up to do dishes?”
“At least you don’t have to deal with the kids.” I smile sweetly.
“This is fun for you?” His brows rise as he cottons onto the fact that this little outing isn’t just a way to increase his good exposure, but also a little payback for giving me such a hard time.
“Maybe.” I pinch my fingers together to indicate a little.
Father Samson introduces us to Beth and Mark who are cooking up pancakes and pots of scrambled eggs and other sundry breakfast items.
“A lot of these kids come from households where the parents have lost their jobs or are struggling with drug and alcohol issues. This might be the only meal these kids get today so we try to make it nutritious and fun,” the father explains as he shows us to the sinks where dishes are piled up. “We have great volunteers and our church fundraisers pay for the food, but of course there is always more that can be done. Every little bit helps.”
“How many kids come through here?” Rebel asks.
“Usually around a hundred,” the father says. “Until we run out of food.”
“Christ.” Rebel’s voice is soft, his eyes full of compassion for kids whose lives are probably not unlike his once was.
The more time we spend together the more I learn about him and his past. He never knew his dad and his mom had mental health issues that left her incapable of raising her own children. Rebel and Rogue basically fended for themselves. The two of them raised Riot. Rebel wanted his brothers to experience as close to normal high school careers as possible so he took responsibility for their security onto his own shoulders.
It’s easy to understand why he’s the leader when it comes to their family and even their circle of friends.
But seeing these kids must be hard for him. Because most of them won’t get the lucky break he did when his agent found him collecting carts in a Walmart parking lot. Is it painful to be reminded of his past like this? Is that why he wanted to avoid it?
The priest blinks. His jaw shifts as though he’s deciding whether to say something about Rebel’s outburst.
“Sorry,” Rebel mutters without any prompting. “Bad habits.”
“I need to get back up front,” Father Samson says. “Do you know what you’re doing? Or do you need me to walk you through it?”
“We’ve got this.” I shove Rebel closer to the sinks. As uncomfortable as he probably is this is for a good cause. And not just the kids. His image as well. It might even make him a better person. A girl can dream.
“You owe me.” Rebel starts hosing the grime off the first of many plates. But his eyes dance with warmth.
“So I’m forgiven?” I take the clean plate he hands me and run a tea towel over the surface before placing it on the counter.
“Forgiven.” He pushes the word around. “Mmm. No. I told you I didn’t want to do charity, kids, or animals. Yet, somehow you’ve made me a victim of all three.”
“You offered to buy the dog.” I take my phone out of my pocket and snap a few shots of him doing such a mundane task. He’s cute, with suds up to his elbows and his hair almost hanging in his eyes.
“You were going to quit on me,” he says softly. “And I couldn’t have that.”
I tug my lip between my teeth as we make our way through stack upon stack of dishes. It’s been a couple of weeks of dirty, hot sex and too many orgasms to count. And on top of that his social media star is on the rise again. People are reacting to the subtle changes they’re seeing. He’s still quintessentially the Rebel they know. He’s just not so much of an asshole as they’ve come to expect. The comments and interaction on our stories about the deal with Copper Rock and the upcoming advertising shoot has been amazing. The love he and Dog get is huge too.
Everything is coming up peachy, but honestly, I can’t stop thinking about how much I like him as a human being. And I can’t stop thinking about the sex. In his bed. In the shower. On the stairs. We almost got caught by Riot and his manager Kelsey with that last one. That would have been awkward. And none of those things would be happening if I’d quit to play it safe.
What would my mom think of my feelings toward Rebel? Would she be proud of my accomplishments? Would she warn me to be careful with a man like him? He’s captivating and broody and dangerous to my heart.
Fall in love. Get your heart broken. My mom’s words come back to me. I glance at Rebel. He makes me feel in ways I don’t think I’m ready for. Whenever I’m with him my heart seems to glow.
But how long will I be with him? In his arms? As his publicist? We had a deal. I’d fix his image and he’d save my career. We haven’t discussed what happens after that, but he never wanted a publicist in the first place and nothing he’s said suggests he’s changed his mind. When my job with him ends and we move on professionally, what happens to our personal relationship?
I knew this could only be a fling. I warned myself not to get involved. But I’ve never been good at holding back from the things I want. I dive in head first. How long until I hit the bottom of this romance I’ve gotten swept away in?
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“My mom,” I say. “I wonder what she would think of you.”
“She’d probably like me.” He winks.
That makes me laugh. She probably would have thought he was a charmer, but I’m not sure that she would have thought he was good for me. “Maybe.”
“I’m more concerned about your brothers.” He shivers like he’s scared. “Six of them. Six. That’s like half a football team. And if they’re anything like you I’m going to have one hell of a time convincing them to like me.”
“Thank goodness, you’re never going to meet them.”
He almost drops the plate he’s handling while his brow creases. “I hope that’s not true.”
“Let’s just focus on getting through these dishes.” I exchange the tea towel for my phone and take a few more photos. I don’t want to consider what that look means, even if his disappointment makes my heart flutter. And I don’t want to think about how my brothers would react if I introduced him as the guy that I’m spending time with. Because I know exactly how they’d react, and I’m not sure that even this big bad rebel could stand up to the tsunami that is the Heart clan.
I hustle Mark and Beth into a couple of shots. Not that it’s difficult. Rebel turns on the charm and by the time they finish cooking we’re all sharing jokes and laughing.
“Stop taking photos of me and dry the dishes, woman.” He chuckle snorts under his breath. “You’re obsessed.”
“With fixing your image,” I say.
“Among other things.” He waggles his eyebrows as we brush shoulders. He tilts his head closer to mine. “Like my cock.”
“You did not just say that in church.” I smack his shoulder, my cheeks heat, and I suspect they turn the color of the sacramental wine offered at Sunday mass.
“What?” He turns his lips to the shell of my ear. “Cock? Or that you can’t stop thinking about having sex with me. Even inside these hallowed walls.”
“Rebel.” I try to sound stern, but it doesn’t come across that way. Instead I just sound breathless. “That’s not—”
“You’re a bad girl at heart, kitten. A rule breaker,” he murmurs, taking one of my hands in his sudsy one and lowering it to his crotch. He’s already hard. “Ever fantasized about doing it in a church?”
“No.” I gulp as I slide my hand up and down the length of him. He grows harder still.
A few feet away Beth and Mark joke around while they clean up their station. They have no idea that we’re being so sinful inside the building where they worship and volunteer. “This is crazy.”
“But you’re still rubbing my cock like you want it,” Rebel whispers as he picks up the tea towel and dries his hands.
“We should finish up here.” My voice cracks as I pull oxygen into my lungs.
“I have a better idea.” He smiles that devilish I’m trouble smile.
I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to know. He picks my hand up in his and runs his thumb over my pulse point. It races under his touch. “What?”
“Oh, is that my phone?” Rebel announces to the room as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the unlit screen. “I better take this.”
His acting is terrible. A mockery of his skills. Beth and Mark eat it up with spoons and smiles when he swipes on the screen and pretends to answer the person on the other end of the line.
He covers the receiver and starts backing out of the kitchen. “Sorry, I better take this.”
“Of course,” the father says, joining us in the kitchen.
I close my eyes and offer up a quick prayer that none of them notice the giant erection Rebel’s sporting. But I don’t think this is one of those times where the Big Man is going to want to help.
“I’ll be right back to finish up,” Rebel says.
“It’s quite alright, take your time,” Father Samson says before turning his attention to discussing tomorrow’s menu with Mark and Beth.
“Summer.” Rebel tips his head to indicate I should follow him.
I should probably run a million miles in the other direction. But I don’t. I swallow a mouthful of saliva as I wipe my hands on my skirt and follow him.
Outside the kitchen Rebel takes my hand and tugs me along behind him until we find ourselves in the sanctuary. He doesn’t slow down as he skirts the pews then strides between them. Our hurried footsteps echo in the quiet. There’s no one else in this part of the church.
“Rebel, this isn’t smart,” I whisper. Oh, but the temptation is wickedly delicious. He has me like an obsessed squirrel, forever hunting for him to nut.
“Smart?” His lips flick up at the edges as we reach the confessional. He shoves the purple screen aside with one hand and lifts me bodily into the booth before closing the curtain behind us. He crowds me against the wall of the wooden cabinet. His mouth drops to my ear as he tugs at the sides of the knee length pencil skirt I wore because I thought it would be demure enough. “It’s only not smart if we get caught. But there’s no one here. No one will know.”
“Oh God, what if someone comes in?” I raise my gaze to the ceiling of the box as he slips his fingers between my thighs and pushes my panties aside to touch me. My body lights up under the subtle pressure of his thumb on my clit. I grip onto his shoulders, unable to decide whether to push him away or pull him closer. “What if someone catches us?”
“You’ll just have to be quiet.” He presses his fingertip to my lips, then drags it down until I open to him before he kisses me. His tongue claims my capitulation and my breath as he slips a finger inside me. “Can you be quiet, kitten? Can you control yourself?”
I nod. I’m breathless. All my nerves are heightened. They prickle and zing with awareness. And a little whine escapes my throat when he asks if I have control of myself. I am going straight to Hell for enjoying this, aren’t I? Do not go to purgatory, do not collect two hundred dollars, straight to Hell.
He grins as he circles my clit, spreading my wetness with his finger. He adds another to the one working my inner walls. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
I hold onto his biceps to keep my balance. I press my lips tighter together.
“Can you do it?” he scrapes his teeth up the side of my neck. “Can you be quiet if I fuck you right here? Can you be my good little bad girl?”
I close my eyes as the need to whimper heightens. Nod my head while my eyes almost water with the effort to keep quiet. “Yes.”
“Good,” he growls into my ear.
I shove my underwear down my thighs while he unzips his fly to release the Kraken. Like magic a condom appears in his hand and he rolls it over his erection, before stowing the foil back in his pocket.
Our mouths latch and our tongues spar as he sweeps me off my feet, my panties still dangling from one ankle. He lines up the crown of his cock with my entrance and pushes all the way in.
I swallow my moan at the friction on my sensitive erogenous zones.
“Shh,” he reminds me, squeezing my thigh while he rolls his hips.
“Oh God.” He feels so good inside me. The way he moves. I wrap an arm around his neck to keep my balance as he pistons into me again and again. I might be going to Hell, but not before he makes me see Heaven.
I’m so close already. My senses are heightened by the idea that we could get caught at any moment. The anticipation makes my heart bang against my rib cage. One, two. One, two.
“Fuck,” Rebel hisses, as he stops moving inside me.
I almost ask him if he came and I missed it, only the curtain in the other section of the confessional rustles as someone else enters the box. It takes me a moment for me to realize that it wasn’t my heart pounding, but footsteps.
Oh God, I can’t believe this is happening. Actually, I can. We’re lucky we haven’t been smote. Smited? Smitten? No, that last one means something completely different. I stare at the man still buried to the hilt inside me. I can’t possibly feel that way about him.
“Have you come to confess?”
With a wicked raise of his brows, Rebel adjusts the angle of his hips to press deep inside me.
It feels so good it makes me cross-eyed. “Oh God.”
Rebel presses his finger to his smirk to remind me to be quiet. His eyes dare me to keep going.
I glare at him, but I’m so close. So so close. “Uh, um, ye-es.”
“Have you been to confession before?” Father Samson asks.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been to church. Since before my mom died. But we used to go every Sunday. It didn’t seem quite so important after she passed, though. School and the ranch and getting out of Devil’s Bend became the priority.
“Forgive me father…” I ramble off the words and do my best to keep my voice even and shake free while Rebel does everything in his power to put me right on the edge of an orgasm that makes me want to scream. “I’ve been having some impure, er, uh though-woah. I mean thoughts. In regards to—”
“Garden gnomes,” Rebel whispers in my ear as he continues to fuck me.
“Garden gnomes,” I blurt out as Rebel moves his thumb to my clit and starts working it. Garden gnomes, really? I am going to kill him if I get out of this alive, and by the way my heart is pounding there is a chance that I won’t. “Oh, God. Pornographic garden gnomes. You know the little statues that look like they’re having… the S.E.X. Oh boy… I guess that’s idolatry too.”
The priest clears his throat. “Anything else?”
I can do this. I can pretend like I’m not having sex in confession. “Erm, yes. Oh, yes. Uh. Uh. Uh.”
“Are you alright?” Father Samson shifts. He sounds concerned, like he thinks I might be having a stroke or something that requires medical intervention.
Rebel pushes me right over the edge of my orgasm and I thump the wall with my hand as I’m overpowered by pleasure that makes my brain melt for a second.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” I say the moment I can speak again. My toes are still curled as Rebel shudders through his own climax. “I’ve been fantasizing about my boss too. I’ve tried to stop.”
Rebel presses his lips to my cheek.
“I’m sorry for these and all my sins,” I say as I pretend like I’m not catching my breath while Rebel stays inside me, waiting for this confession to end.
The priest offers me penance, but I’m pretty sure at this point there is no absolving me of my sins. I express my sorrow for them anyway, all while I pray that I won’t be caught in the biggest one of all. And when the priest is finished trying to absolve me, I ask for a moment to compose myself.
When he agrees and leaves the box, I finally breathe. “That was too close for comfort.”
“You were amazing.” Rebel kisses my neck.
“Are you serious right now?” I push him away. I feel like I’m losing control of my life choices. Sex in a church, I mean, Jesus. Ugh. Fuck. I mean argh! I need to get out of here. I pull my underwear on while Rebel tucks himself into his pants. I don’t have a clue what he does with the condom.
I wanted to experience the crazy whirlwind that being with Rebel could be. I wanted to feel strong and in control, but this… wasn’t that. I shove past him and out of the booth.
“Summer,” he says, emerging behind me.
It makes the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. My skin prickles. Because he sounds worried, and I don’t want that kind of concern from him. “Don’t.”
He catches my wrist and turns me around. Cups my face. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to go that far.”
“I’m fine. I just need a moment.” I don’t like the way my heart responds to the idea he cares. It makes me feel like I’m in danger of having real feelings. And that makes me feel like he can hurt me. But no one can hurt me anymore. Not if I don’t let them. I shrug off his grip. Ignore the look in his eyes. “Alone.”
His jaw tightens and then releases. “Alright.”
I take a seat in the closest pew as he heads in the direction of the kitchen, where we still need to finish the job I volunteered us for.
“I can’t believe I did that, Mom,” I whisper under my breath. “You told me to experience new things, but that can’t be what you were thinking of when you told me that.”
I wanted to live the life she wanted me to have. I wanted to make her proud, but I think I might have just done the opposite. The weight of it sits heavy on my shoulders.
“I like him, Mom. I don’t know why, but I do.” I fiddle with the hem of my skirt. I like him too much. With Bray it was easy to put him off, but Rebel sweeps my feet out from under me. He’s unapologetic about who he is. And he’s not such a bad guy at the heart of him. But he’s starting to make me feel out of control, and I don’t know how to get it back.