Shut Up and Kiss Me Read online

  “Will!” I cried softly, jerking my hips.

  A masculine rumble tore free from his throat, and then Will was inserting another finger inside me, working me quickly and without reservation. Pressing his body firmly against mine, covering my mouth with his, he kissed me as hard and as fast as he was penetrating me. My orgasm came on quickly, hitting me with the force of a tsunami, leaving me breathless and winded and nothing more than a body of quivering jelly, still standing only because Will was holding me up.

  “How about a quick dinner tonight?” he whispered.

  I opened my eyes and smiled up at him, for once not blushing like a madwoman. “I—”

  “Who’s in here?” Carlos’s voice boomed from the hallway.

  Panicking, I pushed away from Will and shoved him toward the small employee bathroom. “Hide!” I hissed.

  He gave me a sly grin before darting inside, and as soon as the door was closed behind him, I took a deep breath, straightened my skirt, and pulled the door open.

  “Did you lock the door?” Carlos asked, frowning.

  I frowned back at him, trying to appear confused. “I must have,” I said, shaking my head. Pushing past him, I started down the hall, headed for the dining room.

  “Are you okay, Mila? You look red. Are you sick?”

  “I’m fine,” I called over my shoulder, “it’s just hot in there.”

  * * *

  He was a dick. First he’d lied to her about his job, and then he’d lied to her about his living situation. And then, in order to distract her further, hoping she’d forget his ridiculous excuse as to why they couldn’t go back to his place, he’d used sex to divert her.

  Yes, he was a dick.

  “I’m a dick,” Will said. Crossing his arms over his chest, he slumped down in the passenger seat of his car.

  Beside him, he heard Richard snort. “You’re just now figuring this out?”

  Ignoring the barb, Will went on. “I don’t like lying to her. I should have never lied in the first place, and now she thinks I’m the manager of a nightclub and I share an apartment with two other guys.”

  “You have fish,” Richard suggested. “Maybe they’re male?”

  Cutting his eyes at his friend, finding him grinning, Will scowled. “I’m not laughing. I really like this woman. I should have been honest from the beginning. I shouldn’t have presumed she was like…”

  “All the other superficial bitches you’ve dated before?” Richard helpfully supplied.

  “Yes,” he replied sulkily, sinking further down onto his seat.

  “It’s still early,” Richard said. “Tell her the truth now, explain to her why you lied, and maybe she’ll forgive you for it.”

  Will didn’t respond; he was too busy envisioning how that particular scenario might play out. One possibility was that Mila would forgive him, understand why he’d done it, and accept who and what he was with grace and class. On the other hand, she could take great offense to being lied to so early on in a relationship. They were supposed to be getting to know one another, not outright lying about their lives. She’d been nothing but honest with him—in fact, she was honest to a fault—and here he was acting like a fool. A spoiled fool, looking out only for his best interests and not taking her into account.

  He’d seen the suspicion on her face when he’d lied to her about having roommates, and he couldn’t blame her. It was odd that they only ever went to her place, that she had yet to even see where he lived, and he didn’t blame her for her uncertainties. Now he was just plain worried about how he was going to right his wrongs.

  “After dinner I should bring her to my place tonight,” he muttered, “and tell her the truth.”

  Beside him, shifting his large body around in the driver’s seat, Richard made a noise of agreement.

  “And if she wants to leave after that, I’ll have you drive her home.” He glanced to Richard, waiting for the man’s confirmation.

  “And do I commiserate with her?” Richard asked, his lips twitching as he tried to contain his smirk. “Nod in agreement while she’s cursing you out? Or do I play the friend card? Tell her about all your good qualities? Tell her you’re not quite as big of an asshole as you seem? Only a sort of an asshole, and only on Mondays and Thursdays?”

  “Shut up. Stop enjoying this, and maybe be helpful for once and give me some damn pointers to make this right.”

  Richard laughed. “Seeing as how I haven’t been on a date in over a year, not sure I’m the right person to be asking for pointers.”

  “You’re always with a different woman,” Will protested.

  “One-night stands don’t count as dates,” Richard said, laughing. “I don’t even know their names half the time. When it comes to women, I’m as clueless as you are.”

  “I’m not clueless,” Will muttered. “I just didn’t really care…until now.”

  “Again, because you’re an asshole.”

  “Watch it, Jeeves. I could fire you, you know.”

  Richard laughed loudly. “You could—and then who would give it to you straight? Your family?”

  Will cut his eyes toward his friend and raised his brow. “Then give it to me straight: what do I do?”

  “Take her someplace nice,” he said, shrugging. “Really nice. Give her something pretty, and then lay it all out for her to either spit or swallow.”

  “Spit or swallow?” Amused, Will shook his head. “Are you twelve?”

  Richard shrugged again. “Hey, you asked.”

  Laughing, Will turned toward the window, watching the never-ending stream of people on the sidewalk pass by. “Something pretty won’t cut it with her. She’s not like that. Material things, money—it doesn’t impress her.”

  “And that’s part of her charm, right?”

  “It was at first… but now…I like everything about her.” Will grinned to himself, even knowing that he sounded ridiculous. But he couldn’t help it. Mila had definitely gotten under his skin, and was burrowing deeper by the day.

  “In all seriousness, though,” Richard continued, “I was with a girl once. We’d been together three years when I joined the army. I was only a teenager back then, but whenever I did fuck up, I always went out of my way to make it right again.”

  Surprised, Will turned to face him. “How come you never told me about her?”

  His eyes focused on the windshield in front of him, Richard shrugged. “After my first tour in Iraq, we started having problems. By the time I was home for good, she’d already met someone else and married him.”

  “Shit,” Will muttered. “I’m sorry…”

  “Nah,” Richard said, shrugging. “It wasn’t meant to be. We both knew it. If I hadn’t realized that, I would never have come here, to the city. I would have stayed back home and fought for her.”

  Will nodded slowly. “So what you’re telling me is, if the woman is worth it, no matter what happens, you fight for her.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you…sir.”

  Will had been thinking the same thing all along, because deep down he knew that the problem wasn’t just Mila knowing the truth about him, but instead was his family knowing about her. No matter what, his family wasn’t going to accept her, and putting off bringing who he really was to light was really just avoidance of the shit storm that was going to happen—not once Mila knew the truth, but when his mother found out.

  Chapter Ten

  Will had said he was picking me up in something nicer than a cab that night, and he hadn’t been wrong. The sleek black car pulled up to the curb outside my apartment and I took a deep breath, watching as Will got out and jogged toward my building. Standing just outside the door, he glanced up, finding me in the window, and smiled. The kind of smile that made my insides melt and my troubles disappear. He looked incredible tonight, wearing a dark gray dress shirt and matching pants, but there was something else about him, something vibrant in his demeanor that, even from up here, I could see.

  Smiling, I s
tepped back from the window. I had been smiling all day, hardly able to think about anything else but Will.

  Looking down, giving myself a once-over, I took a breath and reached for my purse and jacket. My heels tonight were taller than what I normally wore, and I was wearing a skirt instead of jeans. My blouse was nearly sheer, giving just a hint of what lay underneath. I wasn’t exactly trying for sexy, but neither did I want to appear demure. It was more of a “please don’t resist me” look. Because I really needed him to not resist me tonight.

  Nikki poked her head out from the bathroom, her makeup only half done. She grinned when she saw me. “I won’t wait up,” she said, smirking.

  “Please don’t,” I said in a singsong voice, disappearing into the hallway with a wave.

  I headed down the stairs, as quickly as possible in those monstrous heels, eager to see Will. His smile turned to a grin as I stepped outside, his eyes appraising me from head to toe, his nostrils flaring slightly as he slowly took in my outfit.

  “Ready?” he asked, extending me his arm.

  “Ready,” I whispered, looping my arm through his.

  Will held the back door of the car open and I smiled at him as I climbed inside, the supple leather seats cool against my bare thighs. He slid in next to me, closer than he needed to be, yet not nearly close enough.

  As the car pulled away I leaned against him, inhaling deeply, smelling his cologne and the scent of his shampoo. Looking up, I found his hair still a little damp around his ears, and I loved that—loved that he didn’t feel the need to try and change who he was for me, that he showed me exactly who he was, and wasn’t ashamed of it in any way.

  Yet…at the same time, it also made me feel guilty. Guilty because I was a lie. Everything I was, who I pretended to be—it was all a lie. I straightened in my seat, my smile slipping away.

  “Everything okay?” Will’s deep voice, wrought with concern, made the guilt I was suddenly feeling that much worse.

  “Yes. Just hungry,” I lied, smiling at him.

  He returned my smile, although I could sense that he didn’t quite believe me. Thankfully, though, he said nothing more.

  We pulled up outside a well-known Italian restaurant, a place I’d only read about before. It was a widely talked-about venue, always serving the crème de la crème, and always surrounded by paparazzi. Actors and actresses, politicians, and the obscenely wealthy—they were the sort that dined here. Not people like me, simple waitresses from Queens.

  Will exited the car first, holding his hand out for me to take. Swallowing hard, I placed my hand in his, grateful for the support as he helped pull me from the car. Almost immediately the driver pulled away, leaving me standing there feeling somewhat naked as I took in the scene before me. Women in fashionable dresses and men in expensive suits were huddled together talking, some laughing loudly, some smiling for the photographers as the line of cameras continued to flash. I glanced up at Will, wondering why he’d brought me here. Was this a place he frequented?

  Another car pulled up behind us, a small and sport red vehicle. A well-dressed man exited the driver’s seat, tossed his keys to a waiting valet, and strode confidently past us, disappearing into the restaurant.

  I stared after him, my mouth slightly agape. “Was that…was that…?”

  “Yes, it was,” Will answered, grinning down at me. “Nice, right?”

  Nice wasn’t exactly the word I would have chosen for having been mere feet from one of the most famous actors in the world. Feeling overwhelmed, I simply nodded.

  Squeezing my hand, Will tugged me forward, past the groups of gathered people and inside the restaurant. A tall man in a crisp black suit holding a clipboard greeted us at the entrance.

  “Good evening, Mr. Townsend,” he said, bowing his head. “Right this way, sir.”

  Will started to follow him, startling me into moving. I followed quickly, feeling somewhat taken aback; the man had known Will’s name before he’d even glanced at his list.

  “Will.” I tightened my grip on his hand, feeling even more uncomfortable as the vastness of the entrance lobby seemed to swallow us whole. It was grand to say the least, with rich fabrics hanging from the windows and expensive chandeliers hanging from infinite ceilings. And everywhere there were people milling about, people wearing clothing and jewelry that practically screamed money and importance, leaving me feeling silly in my cheap outfit, suddenly wishing I was anywhere other than there.

  Glancing down at me, Will gave me an award-winning smile and walked on, not at all realizing how uncomfortable I was.

  The man in the suit stopped just outside a large set of double doors, handing us off to a woman waiting there.

  “May I take your jacket?” she asked, stepping forward.

  Will glanced down at me as I found myself taking a small step back. “I’m okay, thanks,” I mumbled, suddenly clinging to my jacket and purse for dear life.

  “Right this way, then,” she continued, flashing us a smile over her shoulder as she pulled the double doors open with a flourish.

  Will pulled me inside, into the heart of the dining room, his demeanor calm and confident as we strode past table after table. I tried to breathe, tried to find the confident woman that I had been just earlier that day.

  The ceiling was neck-breakingly high, yet the many elaborate lights strung above were dimmed intimately, making the atmosphere seem warm and private. I teetered along after Will, my heels clicking loudly on the marble flooring, avoiding the gaze of anyone who might have been looking at me, and wondering what on earth a girl like me was doing in a place like this.

  Loud laughter drew my attention across the room, my wide eyes landing on another familiar face. Just last week I’d seen her, an award-winning actress from one of the many movies Will had taken me to. Shocked, I glanced up at Will, who seemed unaware of just how close we were to her. Stilling holding onto my hand, he walked straight by her table without so much as a glance in her direction. Then it dawned on me how many celebrities he must run into, managing a nightclub. Suddenly I felt silly and childish. Here I was gawking and here he was oblivious.

  “Here we are,” the woman said, stopping beside a lavishly decorated table strewn with lit candles and ornate dishware. Pulling out a chair, she gestured for me to sit, and after I’d done so, she extended the same courtesy to Will.

  “Wine?” Will asked, and I nodded politely. Nodding at the woman, he said, “Your best Barolo, please.”

  “Very good, sir,” she said, and turned away.

  Will turned back to me, and for a moment we simply stared at one another.

  “Why does tonight feel so important?” I asked. Because it did. The night had a special quality to it that all of our other dates hadn’t had. It wasn’t the car or the restaurant—it wasn’t any of that. It was us, here in this moment together. Like we were on the very precipice of something important, a realization that seemed to worsen my ever-growing nerves.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking thoughtful, “but I agree, tonight does feel special.” Reaching across the table, he took my hand in his and cleared his throat. “I do need to tell you something important. And I’m hoping you won’t get upset with me.”

  “Upset with you?” I mumbled, feeling suddenly nauseous. Pulling my hand from beneath his, I brought it to my lap.

  “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you,” he continued.

  What little breath I’d had left in my lungs instantly evaporated.

  Then, the woman chose that moment to reappear, and with her a bottle of wine. Pouring both of us a small amount, she gave Will another nod and left.

  I picked up my glass and drank the entire contents, feeling like I suddenly, desperately needed the courage that a drink would give me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or leave me guessing all night, Will?” I asked.

  In the midst of pouring me another glass, he nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. The thing is, Mila, I brought you here tonight to show you a differ
ent side of me.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well so far I don’t like this new side. Or where it’s brought me.” My nerves were now shot; I had already been feeling exposed and uncomfortable, and now this? I couldn’t help but lash out, even after trying so hard to remain calm.

  “I deserved that,” he said quietly, glancing down at the table. “I don’t know why I thought this place was a good idea.”

  “Me either,” I snapped. “So please, tell me what’s going on.”

  * * *

  Will stared into Mila’s expectant expression, the words waiting just on the tip of his tongue, ready to tell her everything, but she looked so uncomfortable—nervous and feeling obviously out of place here. What had he been thinking bringing such a shy, reserved woman like Mila to such an extravagant place? This hadn’t been at all the way to go about telling her who he really was.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said suddenly, much to the surprise of both Mila and the young waiter who’d appeared beside their table.

  “What?” she asked, glancing nervously at the frowning waiter.

  “Sir,” the waiter started, but Will cut him off.

  “For the trouble,” he said, pushing back in his chair and getting to his feet. Pulling out his wallet, he discreetly folded several hundred-dollar bills and gave them to the waiter with a tight smile, knowing it was more than enough for both the wine and a tip. Then, sidestepping the waiter, he offered Mila his hand.

  “Will?” Mila’s expression, much to his disappointment, went from confused and upset to downright angry. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s something I need to tell you, something important, but I’d rather not do it here, but somewhere more personal. I don’t know why I thought bringing you here to tell you would be a good idea, so I’m sorry. Let’s go, please.”