Craving Him (7 page)

10

Emmy

After a six-hour flight to Los Angeles we boarded a twelve-hour flight to Fiji. Luckily I slept most of the way with my head resting on Ben’s shoulder. My neck was stiff and sore when I finally awoke. Sparkling turquoise water as far as the eye could see greeted me out the window. Ben leaned over to look with me. “Wow. It’s so pretty.” He kissed my temple. “I haven’t received my schedule for the shoots yet but hopefully we have time to play.”

I turned to face him. “As your assistant should I be emailing someone to find out your schedule?”

He shrugged. “Sure. If you’d like.”

“Ben,” I scolded. “I’m not okay with being your assistant in title only. I will work hard for you. We should actually discuss all this—your expectations, needs, what my role will be.”

“Baby, I’m not worried about it. Just having you with me helps me.”

I clamped my mouth closed. I could see that it would be up to me to determine my role as an assistant. He wasn’t going to boss me around or give me any direction. I pulled out my cell phone and powered it on while the plane taxied to the gate.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked.

“Checking if I can get a Wi-Fi connection here.”

“You should near the airport, in the populated areas, and at our hotel, but I’m not sure about the rest of the island. Why?”

“Does Fiona know I’m your assistant?”

“Not yet.”

Oh boy.
“She’s about to.”

Ben smiled at my confidence.

Seeing that I had cell phone service, I quickly typed out my message.

To: Fiona Stone

From: Emmy Clarke

Subject: Fiji Shoots

Fiona,

Can you please send me Ben’s schedule of all bookings while we are here in Fiji? We’d like to know what is planned for the duration of the trip.

Thank you,

Emmy Clarke

Assistant to Ben Shaw

Ha!
That ought to give her something to think about.

“If you’d like me to manage your social media presence, like Gunnar used to, I’ll just need your passwords for the sites you’d like me to help with.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

I could post behind-the-scenes pictures of his shoots. His fans would appreciate seeing snippets of those.

“Excellent.” I felt more in control and confident about my role already.

Stepping off the plane, I realized I was in desperate need of a shower. I wanted to wash my face and my limp, greasy hair and change out of the rumpled jeans and T-shirt I’d been wearing for a solid eighteen hours. After collecting our luggage Ben and I moved toward the airport exit where I spotted a uniformed driver holding a sign that read
Ben Shaw
. I poked him in the side with my elbow and pointed.

“Fiona must have arranged a pickup. I was planning to grab a cab.”

Oh, Fiona. How lovely.
God, I was really going to have to keep my temper in check. I was here in my own right this time, and she couldn’t just send me packing. I straightened my shoulders and followed the driver and Ben.

Once outside the humidity smacked me in the face. My hair instantly increased in volume. I blinked against the sunlight and took in our surroundings—a tiny little airport surrounded by massive palm trees.

I slid into the white limousine, which was really quite ridiculous for two people, while Ben assisted the driver with placing our bags inside the trunk.

This was my first visit to the South Pacific and I was in awe of the idyllic setting, crystal-blue waters, brilliant blue and cloudless sky, tropical flowers and plants, and rolling hills in the distance. Everything was lush and green. Vibrant, and so pretty.

The driver stopped in front of a pink-and-white stucco hotel. It was charming, but somewhat understated, letting the natural beauty of the island stand out.

We headed inside and I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt, which would’ve been fine back home. Here I felt homely and anything but sophisticated. The lobby was little more than a large, thatched roof pitched over marble floors. It was open on all sides, allowing the ocean breeze to lift strands of hair from my neck and providing a breathtaking view of the beach beyond.

We were handed cocktails poured into real coconuts while we checked in. I sipped the icy, sweet concoction, letting the flavors of spiced rum and creamy coconut milk dance on my tongue while Ben handed over his credit card. I could get used to this life.

The approach of clicking heels across the marble floor caught my attention and I turned.

Fiona was here.

She was island perfection in a colorful pastel sundress and gold sandals. Her dress was loose fitting but her belly had grown since I’d seen her last. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was glowing.

Fuck me.

I wished I could stop comparing myself to this woman but knowing she’d had a five-year affair with my boyfriend made that a teensy bit hard to do.

“Love! You made it!” She had eyes only for Ben and threw herself into his arms.

“Fiona.” Ben greeted her coolly and removed her claws from around his waist.

Her eyes landed on mine. “Oh. Emerson. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Ben’s arm came around my waist, drawing me closer. “Emmy’s staying with me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate with her.”

Fiona’s answering smile was as fake as they came, her lips curving up to reveal too-white teeth. “Of course, my love. I’ll play nice.” One hand moved to rest against her belly.

“Hi, Fiona.” I found my voice, however soft and shaky. “I emailed you about obtaining Ben’s schedule while we’re here.”

“I’ll send it to him tonight.”

“Send it to Emmy,” Ben interrupted.

“Of course,” she said, looking slightly wounded. “We have a pre-production dinner tonight with the photographer,” she added.

“Emmy’s working for me now so it’ll be good for her to hear whatever’s discussed tonight.”

“She’s working
for
you?” Fiona’s brow crinkled, the frown lines around her mouth puckering like she’d tasted something sour.

“Yes. She’s my assistant.” Ben’s fingers dug into my hip as his grasp on me tightened.

“How . . .
cute
.” The word “cute” dripped with sarcasm.

Bitch
.

“We’re just getting checked in, if you’ll excuse us,” Ben said.

“I booked your room next to mine, like we usually do. I’ll see you soon,” Fiona said before sauntering away.

Ben and I were both silent as a bellhop led us to our room. I hoped it wouldn’t continue to feel this tense the entire time we were here. And if there was an adjoining door to Fiona’s room, I was going to lose it.

The hotel was quite elegant, so there were no adjoining doors. I quickly became distracted by and fascinated with our room, which was actually a large suite. I spent a solid twenty minutes exploring while sipping my yummy coconut and rum drink. A plush living room decorated in island furniture led to the master bedroom with a king-sized bed draped in a white, gauzy canopy and French doors that gave way to a private terrace and view of the ocean.

“Is everything to your liking, Miss Clarke?” Ben’s deep voice rushed over my skin, making me tingle from head to toe.

I spun to face him, abandoning my inspection of the vase of exotic flowers placed artfully on the dresser. “It’s lovely.”

He took the empty coconut from my hands, set it on the nearby dresser, and pulled me into his arms. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” I murmured, getting lost in the intensity of his hazel gaze.

“Just think, ten days here together. . . .”

“I’ve got quite a demanding boss to keep happy.”

“It’s the other way around, babe. I’ll gladly do anything and everything to make you happy.”

“Well, thank you for sticking up for me with Fiona and telling her I work for you.”

“Hmm . . . I think being the boss should entitle me to some perks.” He slid one finger under the hem of my T-shirt and traced a tiny circle against my hip bone.

I barely resisted the urge to squirm under his soft, languid touch that promised so much more. “Such as?”

“I get to tell you what to do. All of my desires, all my requests, will be in your hands to fulfill.” The dark, predatory look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.

“And what do you want?”

His hand slid lower and caressed my bottom as he drew me closer. Leaning in, his mouth brushed against my earlobe and his warm breath sent my pulse racing. “I want to strip you naked, lay you on the bed, spread you open, and taste you until you come,” he whispered against my skin.

Okay, clearly we were going to have to talk about the proper etiquette of being my employer. He was a walking, talking human resources nightmare. Good thing I had no plans to turn him in for sexual harassment. I pulled back just a fraction. “What if I’m not so keen on fucking my boss?” I licked my lips and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth.

His thumb stroked my bottom lip. “Or I could order you to your knees and put this pretty mouth to use.”

His large palm continued lightly rubbing my ass, and I swear just that simple touch and the burning desire I saw reflected in his eyes was making me wet. “I wanted to be gentle, make love to you properly, but you’re making that impossible. The longer you make me wait, the harder I’m going to fuck you when you do finally give in.”

“Ben . . . we have to get ready for your pre-production dinner. I need to shower, dry my hair. . . .”

“We’ll discuss this later,” he said, and gave my butt a playful swat.

I yelped at the unexpected contact and absently massaged the heated spot as I made my way to the bathroom for a shower.

• • •

After a long, hot shower, I wrapped myself in the downy hotel robe and padded into the bedroom in search of the suitcase Ben had packed for me.

I was surprised to find so many pretty and elegant things inside. A basic black string bikini, a pink-and-white polka-dotted bikini with a matching pale pink sarong, casual flip flops, espadrille wedges, several sundresses—all designer brands and each in my size. There were shorts, skirts, and tank tops in every color. I selected a pretty royal blue strapless sundress and a pair of silver strappy sandals with little jewels at the ankles. There was even a little pewter-colored handbag that I could tuck a tube of lip gloss into at least. I lay out the dress and finished getting ready, blow-drying my hair and applying light makeup.

When I slipped on the dress I found it was a perfect fit. It hugged my every curve and landed just above my knees. I straightened the bodice that gently squeezed my breasts and inspected myself in the mirror one last time.

“You look beautiful, baby.” Ben’s hands slid across my hips and settled against my waist.

I loved getting dressed up for him. It had a way of making me feel pretty and put together. I knew it was foolish but just the fact that this beautiful man found me worthy of being on his arm made me feel confident. Stepping into the silver-jeweled sandals, I felt like Cinderella, and the glass slipper even fit.

Ben

Strolling into the restaurant with Emmy on my arm made me feel both comfortable and uneasy. Comfortable because she had a way about her that made me feel relaxed and calm. Uneasy because we were preparing to be around Fiona. Who could possibly be carrying my baby, and who was known to treat Emmy like shit. I was leading her into shark-infested waters. All my senses were up.

We were the first two to be seated at the table for four on the expansive terrace that overlooked the turquoise-blue water. I helped Emmy into her chair and couldn’t help but notice she was fidgeting. Toying with the little strap on her purse and spinning the silver bracelet on her wrist.

“Hey, we’ve got this. I’ll take care of you. Always. You trust me, right?”

Pretty gray eyes locked on mine and she gave me a careful nod.

The server appeared, a slight young girl who seemed captivated by me. Great. Just what I needed. I didn’t want Emmy feeling insecure. I reached across the table and took her hand. I cleared my throat and the waitress’s gaze snapped up. “Something to drink?”

“Yes, just water for me please, but what beers do you have on tap?” I nodded to Emmy.

Emmy’s lips curved in a smile as she listened to the choices, and then placed her order. I knew my girl.

Once the server was gone, Emmy shot me a curious glance. “Water because of your shoots coming up?”

I nodded. It actually wasn’t, but letting her think so was easier. I wanted all my wits about me to deflect Fiona’s cruelty from Emmy tonight. I didn’t want alcohol slowing my reaction time or numbing me to the situation. This was essentially the first time they would be forced into each other’s company, and frankly that scared the hell out of me. I would need to play interference. I wouldn’t have Fiona belittling my girl.

The evening breeze picked up strands of Emmy’s hair and lifted them from her neck. I watched her, mesmerized, until a wave of laughter with a British accent interrupted our silence. My stomach cramped. My new girlfriend and my ex-lover at the same table.
Fuck
.

Emmy

Fiona strolled onto the terrace in a flowing orange sundress on the arm of an older bald man, who I assumed was our company for the evening. She looked gorgeous, as always, and I hated her for it. While my hair was three times its normal volume and frizzed out of control from the humidity, hers was flat-iron sleek and smooth and hung in a glossy wave down her back. Her lips were painted in pink gloss, and were those false eyelashes? I resisted rolling my eyes and instead followed Ben’s lead, standing to greet them both.

She kissed Ben on both cheeks and I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Ouch.
Breathe, Emmy,
I reminded myself.

The bald man introduced himself as Gentry Smith. He was the photographer for the photo shoot.

Once we’d ordered drinks, Fiona stood from the table, one hand resting on her little swollen belly. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to visit the loo. This baby makes me wee more.” She chuckled.

Whore
.

I had no patience for her or this pregnancy. If that made me a terrible person, so be it. I was trying my damnedest to be polite and well mannered around her. I couldn’t also be expected to control my thoughts. And in my mind, I’d clawed her eyes out before the appetizer even arrived.

We dined on grilled swordfish, tiger prawns, and scallop mousse, which I didn’t think I’d like until Ben urged me to try a bite from his fork. I found it surprisingly good. But my favorite dish of the night was the garlic and Parmesan risotto. It was creamy and salty and I ate every bite on my plate.

I did my best to ignore Fiona, which was relatively easy. I focused on the delicious food as Gentry talked endlessly about all the models he’d shot over the years. It was poor taste, really, to brag as much as he did, but none of us minded because I sensed that Ben and Fiona were just as glad for the distraction as I was. He only talked briefly of their photo shoot on the beach, and I’d asked a few basic questions about his start and end times, like any good assistant would, before the topic was changed to cover the rest of Gentry’s impressive list of accomplishments.

For being pregnant, Fiona didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She merely pushed the food around her plate, playing with it more than eating. For dessert, though, she requested pink grapefruit salad, and though I’d wanted the cheesecake I kept my trap shut and nodded along, ordering the same.

Ben leaned toward me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I answered.

He frowned, the crease in between his brows deepening as he studied me. He knew me too well.

Ben’s left hand remained on my knee throughout the meal, his thumb softly caressing my skin. A few times I caught Fiona’s gaze slipping back and forth between me and Ben and I wondered if she was pondering what he saw in me. I couldn’t say I really felt bad for her; it was more like a subtle awareness permeating the air, reminding us all that he’d picked me and not her.

His hand crept higher on my thigh, his fingertips pressing into my flesh. Lifting my chin to look into his eyes, I saw a man in need. His intense hazel gaze was locked on mine and a shiver zipped up my spine. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. Only that he seemed to need something. I fought to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind.

He’d completely tuned out Gentry’s rambling. His gaze was glued to my thighs where the sundress had hitched up when I’d sat down, and his fingertips traced little circles along the tender skin. His eyes were dark and hungry, almost primal in his craving for me. I pushed my knees together, trying to stop the little darts of pleasure racing up from his touch and making my panties feel constrictive over my sensitized flesh.

He’d been so attentive, so loving that I was starting to feel guilty making him wait so long. We’d already been intimate, already breached that boundary—many, many times in fact. But now because of the whole Fiona pregnancy fiasco, I’d sworn off sex with him. It probably wasn’t fair for him. Or for me. Maybe I would change that tonight.

• • •

After dinner Ben led me inside our darkened hotel room, pressing my back against the door and taking my face in his hands. I tried to decipher the meaning in his haunted gaze but suddenly his mouth was crashing against mine, his lips firm and demanding. I parted my lips and his warm tongue sought entrance, sucking at mine greedily. His mouth moved down my throat, licking and stroking the skin with his tongue. Pressing his hips to mine, I felt the evidence of his arousal and I brought my hands up to his chest, my nails lightly raking over his firm pecs and abs. Moving his mouth from my skin, Ben captured my wrists and pinned them above my head. “Don’t touch me if you’re not going to finish the job, sweetheart.”

Holding my hands against the door, Ben pushed his erection into my belly and a raw whimper escaped my throat. His eyes were filled with desire, and when he pressed into me I felt the rigid lines of his body, smelled the crisp sent of his cologne, and heat pooled between my legs.

“Fuck,” he cursed loudly, dropping my wrists and turning away from me. He stormed across the room, both hands raking through his hair, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Whoa.

What had I done to set him off tonight?

Crossing the room on shaky legs, I paused at the sofa to remove my strappy sandals and then padded barefoot across the marble floor. I knocked tentatively at the bathroom door. “Ben?”

Silence.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Just fucking dandy,” he answered, his voice tight.

Sheesh. I didn’t know what started his temper tantrum but I was near certain I hadn’t done anything wrong. “Ben, please talk to me.” I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open slowly, I found him leaning over the sink, his hands gripping the marble countertop, his head dropped forward.

My stomach twisted nervously. My mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. . . . Was he racked with guilt over something else he needed to confess about him and Fiona? Heaven help me because I knew I couldn’t take it. And I was eighteen hours from home.

I wanted to ease his anxieties, to tell him whatever it was we’d get through it, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead I waited, twisting the bracelet on my wrist. Finally he turned.

“I can’t do this.”

My stomach dropped. God, why had I thought it was a good idea to eat scallop mousse? It was threatening to make an appearance.

He stepped closer, towering over me in my bare feet. “I can’t share this room with you, sleep in the same bed, and be expected not to touch you. I love you, Emmy. You’re mine. All of you. Your heart, mind, and body. And I’m yours.”

“W-what are you saying?” I stammered.

“I just can’t take it anymore,” he said, releasing a heavy sigh filled with pent-up frustration.

“You don’t want me?” I asked.

He laughed. The bastard actually laughed, a rich throaty chuckle that tumbled from his perfect mouth. “I’ve had the biggest case of blue balls since we got back together. I’m about to make the fucking
Guinness Book of World Records
. I’ll have to see a doctor to make sure this won’t cause permanent damage in case you want kids someday.”

My heart swelled. He’d never discussed wanting children, and I suddenly found his little tantrum incredibly cute.

His hand unconsciously went to the bulge in his pants and he winced as he adjusted himself.

My eyes followed his movement.
Oh
. Heavens, that thing took my breath away. Had he escaped to the bathroom to deal with that on his own? Was that what this was about?

Everything struck me at once. Ben wanted me. He loved me. He needed this—to be intimate with me, for me to accept him and all his baggage. And I was denying him.

Bringing my hand toward him, I lightly rubbed his manhood through the thin material of his dress pants. His eyes flicked to mine and a low growl rumbled through his chest.

“You need me to kiss it and make it better?” I whispered.

His breathing faltered in his chest. “Don’t tease me, baby. I can’t take it.”

A slow smile curled on my mouth. I was ready. And not just because of his pouty tantrumlike behavior. Even at dinner I’d questioned myself, and now alone with him in this room it was obvious. I wanted him, too. All of him. He was right, he was mine and I was his. There was no sense in waiting any longer. I worked to free his belt, taking my time pulling it from the loops while my eyes danced on his.

“Baby, stop, stop.” His hands held mine, preventing me from pulling down his zipper. “Not like this. Not because you feel pressured.”

I shook my head. “That’s not it.”

He pushed a lock of stray hair from my face, cupping my cheek. “Seriously, I’ll take a cold shower and sleep on the couch. I’m not letting you do something you don’t want. You wanted to wait. And we will.”

“I’m done waiting.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What brought that on?” he asked, still holding my hands in place.

“Because.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’m a woman. And I’m emotional and sometimes unsure and I change my mind about things. A lot.” I kissed him again, his bottom lip jutting out the tiniest bit in a pout. “And I’ve decided. I’m ready.”
Kiss
. “For this. For you. Us.”
Kiss
.

Still cupping my face in his big, warm palms, his thumb lightly stroked my cheek. “Are you sure about this? I told you I can’t take it if you’re just playing around.”

“Don’t pout,” I scolded him, pulling my hands from his hold so I could free his button and tug down his zipper.

He dutifully dropped his hands to his sides. Good boy. He was going to cooperate. I understood my changing moods may be giving him whiplash, but I really was ready, despite his sudden hesitation. Tugging his pants and boxer briefs down over his hips, Ben’s hands went to rest on the top of his head and he looked down at me in wonder, his lips parting slightly.

I dropped to my knees in the ultimate submissive gesture. Pulling the material the rest of the way down his thighs, his cock sprang free, leaping to greet me. I’d forgotten how big he was. My skin heated at the sight of him and my mouth watered to taste him, to please him. He was swollen and had a thick vein pulsing along his shaft. Wrapping my fist around his long, thick cock, Ben let out a strangled moan. Apparently he wasn’t going to last long tonight. I’d kept him waiting too long. A few simple touches and he was nearly there.

Hands fisted and still resting on top of his head, he pushed his hips forward, invading my mouth deeply. I accommodated his length, sliding my mouth all the way down until my lips were around his base. His knees locked and his entire body clenched in response. I loved pleasing him like this. Even though I was the one on my knees, submitting to him, I felt sexy and powerful.

His hands moved to my jawline and he cupped my face as he pulled himself free. “You’re going to make me come already.”

I smiled up at him, my lips swollen and my knees protesting from the unforgiving marble floor. Ben lifted me up under my arms and didn’t stop until he’d placed me on the countertop so that I was facing him. In this position we were nearly the same height, and he pressed his lips to mine. “I need to be inside you, baby. I need to fuck you.”

Without waiting for my response, his hands pushed under my dress and tugged at the lace thong I was wearing. I felt it being dragged across my knees, while Ben kissed me deeply. His fingers parted me and he pressed one long digit inside. I broke from the kiss to let out a soft moan.

“Fuck. You’re soaking wet, baby.” He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it greedily, tasting me, and I saw his cock twitch between us the second his mouth closed around his finger. He stroked himself a few times and stepped in between my thighs, spreading me open. Guiding himself to my opening, Ben pressed forward. His mouth crashed against mine in a hungry kiss.

As his length slid inside me exquisitely, slowly, his head dropped back and a low groan slipped from his mouth. The sound was raw with pleasure. It ignited all my senses and I clenched around him. Gripping my hips, Ben slammed into me faster, harder, until the sounds of wet flesh slapping together was amplified in the small room. He fucked me hard and without any mercy, my first orgasm crashing through me in a sudden rush of heat.

“Fuck . . . I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.
Fuckkk
.” Unexpectedly, he pulled out and stroked himself until he came all over my pink flesh with a groan and then pushed back inside of me. The juices he’d marked me with made him slide in and out so deeply it stole my breath.

“Ben.” My hand flattened on his clenched abs. “That’s really deep . . .”

He slowed his pace, dragging himself in and out of me slowly, and bought his lips to mine. “I want you to feel me deep inside you, baby. All of me.”

He pushed all the way in until we were no longer two separate people but one being, sharing eye contact, moving together, breathing in the same air. The rush of sensations was almost too much. I sucked in a lungful of air and held it, releasing it slowly.

“Your pussy belongs to me.”

I dropped my hand, no longer wanting him to hold back. I needed all of him. I loved the way he owned me so completely. Once I gave myself over to the sensations and let go of control, it felt amazing. He was stretching me, filling me completely, but I loved it. “Faster . . . babe . . . I’m almost there . . .” I arched my back, pushing my hips closer to his. My second release blossomed deep inside me. I clutched his shoulders and hung on tight as he pounded into me.

“You’re mine,” he breathed. “Just mine.”

“Always” I whispered.

Ben lifted me from the countertop and I wrapped my legs around his waist. One arm gripped around my bottom and his other hand settled on the back of my neck, pressing my mouth to his. Without breaking our connection, he walked us over to the bed and laid me down gently, momentarily pulling free from my body while he arranged a pillow under my head. I whimpered at the loss of him. I’d already come twice, and him once, but the look in Ben’s eyes told me we were far from done. The hungry, possessive look I saw reflected in his gaze heated my skin and made my pulse jump erratically.