line of control, her body stilled against his and she cried out, her fingernails biting into the bare flesh of his shoulders.
With her head thrown back against the door frame, her eyes squeezed tight and her mouth parted, she looked every bit the vixen he knew he could uncover.
When he removed his hand and stepped closer to slide his arms around her, he felt Tessa’s entire body tremble, out of arousal or fear, he wasn’t sure. She was an innocent, and he had her backed against a door frame like a horny teen who couldn’t control himself. And he’d just taken a portion of her passion and used it, technically, to make himself feel better. She’d gotten too close to his hidden shame, and he’d opted to turn the tables, so to speak, and take what he wanted. Okay, not all he wanted, but enough that he knew he was a jerk.
So he stepped back.
Panting, her lips still moist and swollen from his touch, Tessa didn’t look like a virgin, and he wanted her even more. Wanted her in his bed, spread all around him, so he could show her just how good they’d be together. But he also had to be realistic and not just a selfish ass.
“Go back to bed.”
“Grant.” She started to reach for him and he stepped back again, ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes.
“Go, Tessa, before I ignore your innocence and take what I truly want.”
A lone tear slid down her cheek as she blinked, then turned and walked quietly back to the guest room. Grant groaned and leaned against the door frame.
That damn tear was like a knife straight to his heart. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but if he’d taken what she was offering, she’d be even more hurt in the long run.
A woman like Tessa wanted more out of a man than just a fling. She wanted marriage, a family. And he wanted those things, too, but not in this world she lived in.
He’d kept the hurt and guilt in a separate compartment in his heart for so long, but being around Tessa allowed each and every emotion to flood to the surface.
He truly thought he could keep his mind focused on work, had convinced himself he was ready to take on a film that would make him face his demons.
But after today’s events, he knew he’d only been lying to himself.
In a few months he’d be leaving, and as much as he wanted Tessa, he knew even if they came to mean more to each other, neither of them would give up the life they so loved.
So he needed to keep his damn hands and lips off her, because she was getting harder and harder to resist. No matter how much he was coming to care for her, giving up what he’d worked for wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t give up his life in L.A. He’d worked too hard for his career.
Besides, he had run fast and far from the world of horses years ago.
Filming that world was one thing, but living in it would be pure hell. Especially now that he knew exactly what it felt like to have Tessa come apart.
Grant clenched his hand and slammed it against the doorjamb. How the hell did he undo that mental image? How did he expect to work with her and not want her even more?
* * *
When Grant woke the next morning, Tessa was gone and there was no sign she’d ever been there. Nothing less than what he deserved after his adolescent behavior.
He walked by her room, noting the perfectly made bed. Everything was back to the way it had been before she’d spent the night.
Grant walked into the room and spotted the T-shirt she’d slept in. It was neatly folded and lying atop the antique trunk at the end of the bed.
And because he was all alone, he lifted the garment to his face and inhaled her sweet scent.
He’d had his hands on her last night, had her trembling beneath him. She could’ve been his in every way.
But at what cost?
That damn clause prevented him from getting too involved, though he’d probably already crossed that line when he’d been feeling her bare chest and had slipped his hand inside her damp panties. But he knew Tessa would keep their secret rendezvous to herself.
Clause aside, if he’d slept with her, she would’ve regretted it, and the last thing he wanted her to see when she looked at him was regret. Hurt he could handle, regret...not so much.
He was still going to be leaving, and she deserved so much more than sex from a man who was only passing through.
Today he’d be talking with Damon and Cassie. Thankfully, he could avoid Tessa, and they both could take time to figure out what the hell was going on between them.
Lust, yes. Desire, most definitely. But was there more, only he couldn’t put a definite name on it? The thought worried him, because he had a feeling he could want more with her, but couldn’t let himself face all the pain and regret he’d fought so hard to keep away. And he couldn’t risk getting back into a lifestyle he’d run so fast and far from.
There was a reason he hadn’t visited his sister and saw his parents only when they came to him. He just couldn’t tackle all the crippling emotions that always seemed to chase him.
Grant made his way to the main house and entered through the back door. After he’d been here for over a week, Damon had insisted Grant quit knocking and just walk in.
When he stepped into the kitchen, the sweet aroma of cinnamon rolls assaulted him. A beautiful, middle-aged woman with a cap of short silver hair was bustling around the room and humming. Grant cleared his throat so he didn’t scare her.
She turned and smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Carter.”
“Morning,” he replied. “I’m supposed to meet Damon.”
“Oh, he’ll be down shortly.” She picked up the plate of gooey rolls and extended it toward him over top the granite island. “Fresh rolls from the oven. Would you like one?”
“I can’t turn down anything that smells this good,” he told her, reaching for a warm pastry.
“I’m Linda, by the way.” She pulled out a small saucer and set it in front of him, along with a napkin. “Coffee?”
“Please. Black.”
Soon he was in breakfast heaven. Homemade cinnamon rolls and coffee. He could so get used to this film set. Some he’d worked on had been out in the desert; a few had been in a jungle with no indoor plumbing. But this estate? Yeah, Grant could get used to these amenities...and he wasn’t just thinking of the food.
“I’m happy to see someone sit and actually enjoy my cooking while it’s hot,” Linda told him. “Cassie rarely shows up because she’s busy with Emily, and Tessa is too worried about keeping her weight as a jockey. Damon usually eats, but it’s grabbing and heading out the door.”
“And do you cook every morning, anyway?” Grant asked, sipping the steaming coffee.
“Every morning without fail. One of these days the family may decide to all come in and actually use that dining room.” She
