The Price Of Fame

‘Hawaii’s nice this time of year,’ she said to take her mind off her fantasies, determined to keep the conversation on neutral topics.

He glanced at his pamphlets then at her, his gaze thoughtful. Unreadable.

‘I know we agreed on nothing personal but they were just there …’

He smiled, all trace of whatever she’d seen in his eyes gone in one mischievous twinkle. ‘All good, Charlotte, it’s not personal. And yeah, it’s the best time of year. Get away from the cold.’ He bit off half his slice in one go and chewed, then washed it down with a mouthful of wine.

She sliced a corner off her own piece, watching the man’s enthusiasm over the very ordinary food. He had a strong tanned neck and prominent Adam’s apple, which moved as he swallowed. Oil from the pizza glistened on his upper lip … She wanted to jump up, lean down and lick it off. She really needed to slow her thoughts down to warp speed.

‘You’ve been there before?’ she asked, keeping to the script.

‘I try to make it every couple of years. Hanalei Bay on Kauai. The surf’s great there. How about you—have you ever been?’

‘Once. To Maui. It was a family holiday to celebr …’ She trailed off as the memory of her parents’ tenth wedding anniversary surfaced. The little twinge in her heart had her rubbing her hand once over the area and caressing the pearls at her throat. ‘But that’s against the rules.’

‘Sure—if you say so.’ His eyes probed hers and his voice gentled. ‘You okay?’

‘Fine.’ Her smile relaxed as she finished the last bite, patted her mouth then popped the fancy napkin back in her bag. ‘You know, you’re a very nice man.’

‘Nice?’ His brows rose. ‘That’s a bit of a worry.’

‘I mean honest. Considerate …’ Totally gorgeous.

He chuckled and popped the remainder of his pizza into his mouth. ‘You sure you’re not a rebellious princess on the run from some minor European nation somewhere?’

‘What? Oh, the napkin?’ She grinned back. ‘I’d carry my own cutlery if the airlines allowed it. I have personalised soap too. Somewhere …’ She searched the bottom of her bag unsuccessfully, then shrugged. ‘Call me eccentric.’ Or a product of a privileged and traditional upbringing. If her folks could see her now and knew what she was thinking …

She bet Nic had a string of women in his life. She wondered how old he was. Around thirty? She reminded herself she didn’t want to know because then she’d want to know more. Like where he lived and what his work was and … how he liked to make love.

‘“Sex Fact or Fiction”.’

She almost spluttered into her wine. ‘Pardon?’

‘The quiz.’ He was looking at the cover of the magazine she’d left on the desk. ‘You haven’t read it yet?’

‘I must’ve missed it. Obviously you didn’t.’

‘I’m a guy. I saw the word sex,’ he said, amusement in his voice as he flicked through the pages. ‘Okay, test your knowledge. Sales of condoms decrease when a recession hits—fact or fiction?’

She took a moment to compose herself and consider. ‘Fiction. Definitely. Too expensive to go out and too expensive to have kids.’

He nodded. ‘Correct. How about this? Humans are the only species to have sex for pleasure.’

The way he said ‘pleasure’, all virile and velvet and promising, made her skin rupture with heat. She took another sip of wine. ‘Yes.’

‘Not so.’ He studied her with inscrutable eyes. ‘Apparently we’re not the only creatures on the planet wanting to get it on.’

‘Oh?’ But was she the only one in this room right now wanting to get it on? He was as relaxed as if he was discussing the weather, one arm slung over the back of the chair, whereas she was as tense as strung piano wire.

‘How about this, then? Men’s sexual organs are designed for more pleasure than women’s.’

‘Um …’ She trailed off at the hot promise of that pleasure. Her own feminine places dampened and she had to resist squirming on the chair. ‘Fiction.’

‘Yep. Women have it all over men in this department. According to the quiz, the clitoris is the only known organ that exists for the sole purpose of pleasure.’

Oh. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Had she ever had such a bizarrely intimate conversation with a guy before? ‘Um … sexual organs aside …’ she bit down on her bottom lip ‘… surely it would depend on who’s giving the pleasure?’

His head came up and he looked at her through lazy-lidded eyes. ‘You’re a woman—you tell me.’

‘For me …’ She struggled for composure and sophistication. ‘It definitely depends on the partner.’

‘Wouldn’t this partner’s expertise have something to do with it? Besides liking the guy.’

‘Ah …’

‘I mean, you could be totally hot for him but if he doesn’t know how to do it for you … Ever had a guy like that? You really like him, the connection’s there, the spark, the desire, but then you’re left hanging. So to speak.’

‘Uh … hmm.’ Flynn. The earth hadn’t exactly moved with him. Ever. She’d told herself that was okay because she’d loved him, and love and affection and common goals were more important than physical fulfilment.

Maybe she’d been wrong, because there’d been a shifting of tectonic plates happening beneath her feet since she’d kissed Nic. She knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be the type to leave any woman unsatisfied.

‘What’s this non-committal “hmm”?’

‘It’s a yes, okay?’ she snapped out, hating to admit it. Hating that he knew already. ‘I’ve had guys like that.’

A slow and sexy, won’t-happen-if-you’re-with-me look drifted across his expression.

If he ever decided to make a move.

And why was this all about her? His focus was entirely too … focused. She deflected with, ‘But a guy can enjoy sex with anyone because it’s all about basic drive or need, right?’

His gaze drifted over her like slow-moving lava. ‘Personally speaking, I like to connect with the woman I’m with. Enjoyment has to be about more than satisfying a basic urge. I feel a connection with you, Charlotte. I’m pretty sure you feel that connection too. I’d like to see where it takes us.’

To heaven and beyond?

His eyes had darkened as he spoke and she felt a shifting and thickening of anticipation in the air. But he didn’t move. Not so much as the flicker of an eyelash.

Ah. ‘Are you waiting for me to give you the green light?’

‘Your call.’ He remained ostensibly at ease, legs sprawled in front of him, arm still relaxed on the back of the chair. Only a muscle tic in his jaw betrayed his tension. ‘You need to be sure this is what you want. But for pity’s sake, make it soon.’ His voice thickened and he looked down at his crotch. ‘Because you’re damn near killing me.’

She’d deliberately kept her eyes above his waist, but now she followed his gaze to the impressive bulge in his shorts. And swallowed. Her whole body went weak, except for her galloping pulse. She also noticed his thighs were as tanned as his neck, sprinkled with dark hair and heavy with muscle as if he worked out. A lot.

She wanted to touch. She wanted to feel those thighs rub against hers. She wanted that magnificent masculine part of him inside her.

But she didn’t want entanglements. No morning after, no getting to know each other beyond the physical. ‘Only tonight.’

‘Fine. Should I take a shower first?’

‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Told you you’re considerate.’ She liked the way he smelled: warm and slightly sweaty but not unpleasant. A primal masculine smell that beckoned and aroused her feminine instincts. ‘I want it—I want you—as you are. I want to feel your sweat on my skin. Now.’

He smiled back. ‘First move’s all yours.’

‘Mine?’ Her trembling fingers tightened a little on the soft terry lapels. She knew how to initiate sex … but with a man like Nic? Except she didn’t know Nic, not really. So what did she mean: ‘a man like Nic’? What did Nic-who-she-didn’t-know want or expect?

‘You could start by taking off that robe,’ he suggested after a few seconds of silence ticked by. ‘Or you could come over here and let me do the honours.’ Still he didn’t move. ‘I’ll leave that decision to you.’

Eyes fastened on him, she pushed up off the chair. The few steps she took seemed like miles while her blood drained to her legs. She was glad of the background music because it covered the sound of her heart thumping its way out of her chest. Not with fear but with the illicit, dizzying prospect of having sex with a man who was, by anyone’s standards, a stranger.

She was the one in control—because Nic had given it to her. She was the one with the choice. And she wanted this night with this man.

Coming to a stop in front of him, she loosened the looped tie just enough so that the robe’s front edges parted slightly. As she was standing, his head was tilted back a little, eyes focused on hers, and it was her first chance to look down at him. She reached out and smoothed a strand of his hair off his brow. ‘Decisions, decisions …’

He slid his fingers behind the loop in her belt and drew her closer, between hot, hard thighs, and she had to drop her hands onto the chair’s metal arms either side of him to keep her balance and stop herself from collapsing onto him.

His breath, his scent and his heat mingled with hers as they continued to stare at each other. ‘You like being on top, then.’

She started to laugh but her throat was dry and it came out husky and low and slightly desperate. ‘I like being any way.’

Oh, my God. Had she really said that? And was that smoky, seductive voice hers?

‘So …’ he untied her belt and slipped his hands inside to lightly circle her waist, surprise in his eyes when he found bare flesh ‘… swinging naked from the chandelier’s a possibility?’

Her breath hitched at the feather-light brush of skin on skin and she arched forward, her breasts aching to be teased and stroked. ‘No chandelier here …’ Only recessed lighting and a desk lamp …

‘Pity.’

‘But whatever we get up to, do you have protection?’ Her mind was hazy, but not that hazy.

‘We’ll get to that. Eventually. Or are you in a rush?’

‘I thought you were. Didn’t you just say—?’

‘I’ll survive a little longer.’

She wondered if she would. Spot-fires were breaking out all over her body; it was a miracle she wasn’t glowing. Or perhaps she was but right now she was too distracted watching Nic. His expression: part pain, part pleasure and all for her. ‘Nic …’

‘Charlotte.’ he teased back and his tone left her in no doubt he was as turned on as she. But he withdrew his hands from her waist, put them behind his head. ‘What are you hiding under all that towelling?’

She pushed up off the chair’s support and straightened, then, with a boldness she’d never felt, she shrugged off the robe. Its coarse texture tickled her bare skin on the way down.

Nic watched, his breath snagging on a growl of approval. Who’d have thought? Conservative Charlotte liked sexy underwear. Skimpy shimmery panties and bra, spattered with starbursts of silver rhinestones and so sheer she might as well have been naked. But so much more erotic with her dark, peaked nipples pushed up against the fabric, her breasts spilling over the top like an offering of abundance. The strand of pearls still luminescent at her neck.

‘Aren’t you full of surprises,’ he murmured in absolute appreciation. ‘Gorgeous.’

But not too voluptuous. Not too slim either; just long, strong, clean lines and curves. Perfect. Exquisite. It was a crime against mankind to hide such beauty.

But she wasn’t hiding it from him.

She resumed her earlier position, hands on the armrests, leaning over him. Her breasts were at eye-level and with any other woman that was where he’d be—mouth busy right there on that creamy skin, teasing the fabric aside with his teeth, tongue exploring.

But, as delectable as they were, it was her eyes that captured him most. Wide and aware with smoke and secrets shifting like shadows. Her fragrance, the cool, light signature perfume, drifted over him like evening mist. And in his mind’s eye he saw that calm lake at sunset. If he believed in enchantment, he imagined it would be like this.

Behind his head, his fists tightened. He put them on his thighs to stop himself from reaching up and pulling her mouth down to his and plundering. He sensed her willingness but this wasn’t the moment for fast. Rather a moment for reflection.

She hadn’t admitted it, but Nic knew this wasn’t something Charlotte did casually and often. He didn’t linger on the reasons why she’d made an exception for him. ‘You’re not used to this, are you?’ he murmured, and heard her quick exhalation, felt the tension thrum through her body.

‘What do you mean? Sex?’

‘One-night sex.’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘No, no.’ He kept his voice low and slow and soothing. ‘I mean that in a good way. Keep doing what you’re doing—you’re fantastic.’

He shook away the unsettling thoughts and concentrated on what he knew well. How to enjoy no-strings, uncomplicated sex. And the easy pleasure of having a woman initiate it.

Smiling, she lowered her lips to his, a slow sultry kiss that soothed and smoothed and seduced. Her hair was a curtain of silk around them and the bluesy pulse of the music beat a lazy syrupy rhythm. He thought of languid afternoons by a pool and hot skin and cold, creamy sunscreen.

He lifted his arms then, fingers spread to mould around her slender shoulders and draw her closer. Her fingers stroked through his hair, then cupped the back of his head. Still watching his eyes. There was a glide of silk as she parted her long, long legs and slid them over his thighs to twine herself around him. She hooked her feet behind the back of the chair, the sultry heat of her feminine core snug against his burning erection.

Still holding his head, she leaned forward and kissed him again, her sparkly bra snagging his T-shirt as she settled closer. A groan erupted from deep in his gut. Her smile was smug as she found the worn jersey’s hem and tugged upwards. Suddenly his T-shirt was gone, flung somewhere over his shoulder.

Her fingers danced over his chest, twirled around his nipples, then slowed to a gliding waltz and headed south, dead centre. To the waistband of his shorts. Hands diving beneath, she rocked once against him, her fingers tightening on their captured prize. ‘Nic …’

‘Okay, now you’re playing dirty.’ He reached behind her, snapped the catch on her bra and peeled it away. Creamy flesh, dark, ripe peaks. Greed hazed his vision but she didn’t give him time to feast, surging forward to rub the hard little nubs against his chest as she watched him.

‘I like playing dirty, don’t you?’ Her laugh was low and sexy as she massaged and squeezed. ‘Fast and dirty even better.’

He tried to laugh too, but it snagged in his throat. His control was fraying, his whole body one throbbing ache. ‘You’re a wicked woman.’

‘Too wicked for you?’

‘Not possible.’ He cupped her damp heat and watched her eyes smoulder, her playful smile fade to serious. Her hands stopped being busy and he grinned. ‘Pay-back time.’ He slid a finger along the edge of her panties and felt her shudder. He slipped beneath to stroke her slick flesh and heard her moan. Arousal heightened, breathing quickened.

Somehow he managed to reach over his shoulder and drag his trousers off the chair, fumbling for his wallet and a condom in the rumpled folds while he thanked the stars his clothes were within reach.

Impatience, desperation and demands and needs. He freed himself, rolled on protection. A quick tug and her panties shredded beneath his fingers. No laughter now, no teasing wordplay. Just pure passion and dark desire and every fantasy he’d ever had. He plunged deep, thrusting up into silky heat and willing delight.

He held her silvery gaze long enough to see that her response matched his own. He gripped her hips, her hands fisted in his hair. They found their rhythm. The world evaporated leaving only speed and greed and heat.

The chair rocked beneath them. He thought he heard the tinkle of a glass as it toppled and rolled but maybe it was the sound of his sanity shattering.

She came on a stunned gasp, her inner muscles clamping around him. He gave himself up to glory and followed.

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