“What fucking words?” I shout.

He cups his hands around my face and leans in for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet. So small, yet so meaningful. “How did you get away, Grace?”

“You heard this part. He dropped me off at a hospital in Nebraska.”

Vaughn lets out a long breath and pulls me into a hug. “I think—and maybe I’m wrong, because I don’t know what happened to you while you were with him—but it must’ve really messed with your head to be so… coveted for so many months and then to just be dropped off like that.”

I push him away. “Are you saying I’m fucked up because he let me go? Oh my God!”

Vaughn holds me tight. “It’s psychology, Grace. It’s a mind fuck, right?”

I push back again, but his arms are all the way around me now. “That’s not what it is. I was grateful he let me go. I thought he was going to kill me.”

“OK. You know better than me, sweets. You were there, I wasn’t. So you know the truth.”

But I know what Vaughn’s saying underneath those words. He’s saying I know the truth, but I won’t accept it.

“Wanna finish Dirty Heaven?” He changes the subject. “Or go out to eat? Or make a sex tape?”

I allow myself to chuckle at that.

“I can think of so many, many ways to let the world know you’re mine, Miss Kinsella. These are but three options for tonight. And you’re not going home tonight, that’s for sure. Tomorrow. I have lots of plans for tomorrow in Denver.”

I melt into his embrace and try not to cry. He can sense my shift and my sadness, because he strokes my head and continues to talk.

“I have so many surprises for you in Denver.”

The soothing rumble of his voice vibrating up from his chest makes my body feel pliant and supple. “I want to go to bed,” I decide. “And watch movies.”

“I have a DVD of IM2. It’s in my contract so I can have private screenings. Wanna watch me be a super anti-hero who doesn’t save the world but leaves it a better place?”

“Oh my God! Do you die?” I’m appalled.

“Hmmm, you think I’ll spoil the ending for you? Pffft. You’re cray-cray.”

I laugh. “Yes, I definitely want to watch IM2.” I pull away so I can look up at his face. “I loved that first movie because you were so unexpected. Did you ever read the book?”

“Of course.”

“He’s not really a good guy, is he?”

“No, he’s not. That’s why I wanted to be him. Even with the occasional rumor, people saw me as bright and clean and perfect before I did that movie. And now they see me as him.”

“And you like that?”

“Yeah, because he’s damaged, Grace. And so am I. We all are. People relate to that, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just… human nature.”

I know Vaughn’s really talking about me, but I don’t care. I’m done talking about me for now and he’s gonna let it go, and for that I’m grateful. But I don’t want him to think that all that serious talk was a waste, either. I want him to know that I’m listening. “I don’t need a public declaration, Vaughn.”

“Yes, you do, Grace. But we have time for that. Believe me, life will be filled with public moments tomorrow. Let’s enjoy the private ones we have left tonight.”

I couldn’t agree more. So I let him lead me into his not-so-movie-star house. We walk through the halls and end up in a home theater, but not the kind with oversized leather chairs set up stadium-seating style. There’s a huge sectional sofa in the shape of a square. It’s not leather, either. It’s something soft and plush. And there’s pillows and blankets.

“Have I mentioned I love to watch movies?” he asks me, pointing to the couch. “Climb in, Grace,” he commands. I crawl on the couch and settle against the back. He disappears for a second, then returns just as the movie begins to display on the white screen in front of us.

“It’s huge. I’ve never seen a projection screen so big in a house before.”

He shoots me a smirk. “Size always matters.” And then he bounces on the couch next to me. The room is filled with the surround-sound experience and I’m swept into the world of the Invisible Man.

But Vaughn twines his fingers with mine. He pulls me so close, I’m part of him. He wraps me up and whispers his lines in my ear.

The man next to me turns into the man on the screen. Vaughn Asher might not be a prince to the outside world, but in here, he’s my hero. It’s something very private, I think. To watch him be his art. To be pulled into his experience. To have him perform this movie just for me.

And even though I told him I needed the declaration to be public, I was wrong.

The only people who matter in this relationship are right here in this room.

Chapter Fourteen

#ThereIsAlwaysTimeForPussy

THE FLIGHT back to Denver is too short and when we land at Centennial Airport, it hits me that my fantasy weekend is over. This is so much worse than coming home from Saint Thomas. Back then, I was pretty sure I would never see Vaughn Asher again. But now I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I don’t want him to leave.

I hate the clinginess. I’ve never liked getting to attached to men and even though I really, really, really like Vaughn, I still hate that feeling. I know that the minute he leaves I’ll be thinking about when I can see him next. I’ll be checking my phone for texts, or Twitter for a chance at some sexy banter.

There’s a limo waiting for us, so the ride back to my neighborhood is filled with chitchat, phone calls for Vaughn, and in my case, an explosion of regret.

I regret not being more honest with him. For not being more adventurous with him last night. When IM2 was over we watched another movie and I fell asleep. We fell asleep. Right there on the movie couch. And that’s where we stayed all night. No goodbye sex. No proclamations of… whatever. No see-you-next-time plans.

So regrets. Lots of them, actually.

I look up at Vaughn and he’s watching me intently as he talks on the phone about a meeting he has later today. It’s Sunday, but his next project is directing the IM spin-off and from what I can gather, it’s a seven-days-a-week kind of thing. What’s wrong? he mouths.

I smile and shake my head. And then I look out the window. We’re just getting off the freeway near the Pepsi Center and heading towards LoDo where I live. The limo is not long, thank God, because as soon as we turn onto Wazee Street, things close in and the streets get narrow. My building is just shy of the 16th Street Mall, and there is no parking out front. I’m just about to tell the driver he might want to swing into the alley, but he’s a step ahead of me. He maneuvers the limo past cars and finally pulls into the small lot that belongs to my building. My car is right where I left it.