Craving Him (8 page)

He joined me on the bed, lying over the top of me to cage me in against the mattress. He cradled my face in his hands, lowering his mouth to mine and mumbling soothing words in between sweet kisses. “I’m sorry, baby. I meant to go slow. I wanted to take my time with you and make you feel good.”

He was apologizing? I supposed the bathroom counter wasn’t the most romantic place to have sex, but I wasn’t complaining. Not at all. I felt his erection nudging against my belly and I squirmed underneath him, trying to angle us closer.

Ben brushed stray strands of hair from my forehead and planted a soft kiss there. “I need to make love to you,” he whispered in his deep, sexy voice.

I merely nodded. I hadn’t heard him use those words before. Usually his language was much cruder, favoring the f-word for our physical act. I’d always felt there was more between us, even from the very beginning when I knew I shouldn’t fall for him. I had. Totally and completely, and despite all the things fighting against us, I wanted him. Needed him. This man had consumed me and there was no denying that fact. I climbed on top of him, wanting to show him we were really okay. His body joined mine and the slow, sweet way he made love to me filled my entire heart and soul with so much emotion, I had to hang on to his biceps tightly to keep from combusting in happiness.

I rhythmically rode him, lifting up and gliding down so slowly I could feel each inch of him invade me. Sensations blossomed deep inside me each time he was fully seated. The pace was agonizingly slow, but he let me maintain it. His hands moved to my hips, lifting and lowering me against him, and I loved the feel of his strength, commanding my body to do as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he was doing.

Ben

The sound of someone knocking on the door woke me from a deep slumber. Lifting Emmy from the spot she’d claimed on my chest, I gently placed her beside me and pulled off the blankets and rose to my feet.

Emmy rolled into the spot I’d vacated and pulled my pillow into her arms. She curled her legs up until she was hugging the pillow in a full-body embrace. Damn, that was one lucky pillow. She let out a sleepy little murmur. Just as I considered crawling back into bed, the tapping sound on the door captured my attention again. My brain, not yet fully awake, struggled to make my body leave Emmy’s side, but I pulled on a pair of jeans and went to answer the door.

“Damn, I’m coming,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.

A hotel attendant greeted me then pushed a room service cart through the door and into the living room. “Just sign here, please.” He thrust a slip of paper at me.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall ordering anything.” We’d stayed up most of the night talking and having sex, so my head was a little fuzzy this morning, but I didn’t recall phoning for room service.

“No, you didn’t.” He pointed to the paper. “It was ordered by a Miss Fiona Stone. All paid for.”

I signed the receipt and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” I mumbled and watched, confused, as he slipped out the door.

Emmy came padding out of the bedroom a moment later, dressed only in a tank top and a pair of my boxer briefs. I took a moment to just take her in. Slender legs, curvy hips, full breasts, and hair tangled and loose around her shoulders.
Mine
.

“C’mere, baby.”

She crossed the room on bare feet and wrapped her arms around my waist, nestling in against my chest.

I pulled her close, relishing the feel of her small, soft body pressed against my firm one. “You stole my underwear,” I whispered into her hair.

“Sorry, did you want them back?” she said sweetly, that little southern twang in her voice just barely evident.

I tilted my head down and stole a look. “No, they look better on you.” My hands slid from her waist to her ass, cupping it in my palms and squeezing gently. I felt my girl shiver lightly. “You fill out the back nicely,” I murmured near her ear.

She giggled and it was the sweetest sound, light and carefree. “Yes, but you fill out the front in a way I never will.”

“I sure as fuck hope you never do. I don’t think I’d like you with a dick, baby.”

She laughed again. “What’s all this?” she asked, motioning to the service cart.

“Uh, breakfast, I suppose.”

“How thoughtful.” She kissed my mouth before stepping out of my arms. “I just want to grab my laptop and see if I can connect to the Wi-Fi before we eat.”

I nodded and watched her bend over to retrieve her laptop bag. Her ass looked good enough to fuck. She cleared her throat and my eyes darted up to hers.

“How about you pour me some coffee while I fire this up? There is coffee, right?”

“Uh . . .” I quickly scanned the cart and found a silver carafe of what I presumed was coffee. “Yeah.” I poured two mugs of coffee, added milk, and set them on the round dining table. I made myself busy while Emmy powered on her computer. I transferred the dishes, silverware, and helpings of the food to the table. I poured us each a glass of what appeared to be pineapple juice. “Is it working, babe?” I asked over my shoulder. I knew she was taking her new assistant job seriously. I found her work ethic sexy, though of course I wouldn’t have minded in the least if she treated this trip like a vacation and lay on the beach the entire week. She deserved a break after all the shit I’d put her through recently.

“Yep. I’ve got a signal. And it looks like Fiona sent an email with the details for the shoot tomorrow. It begins on the beach at nine a.m. There’s an attached page of grooming instructions.”

“Yeah? What’s it say?”

She chuckled under her breath. “Wow. There’s an astounding amount of detail on the way your pubic hair should be trimmed. Basically short . . . oh my goodness. Is this serious?” She let out a short laugh.

Honestly, it wasn’t that surprising. I often received specific instructions for shaving my face, chest, and abs. This was a little out of the ordinary but not that unexpected. It was a swimsuit shoot, after all.

“What else does it say?” I asked.

Her eyes had gone wide and she sat silently blinking at the screen. “Fiona’s left a note underneath the instructions.” Her voice was shaky.

“Read it to me.”

Emmy took a deep breath. “See you tomorrow, love. And P.S. I know these instructions won’t pose a hardship for you, considering you’ve always kept yourself nice and neat. Love, Fiona.”

Within seconds, I’d crossed the room and was guiding her away from the computer by the shoulders. “Ignore her. We both know that was a cheap attempt to get a rise out of you. My cock is yours. Just yours. Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes locked on mine.

I leaned in and kissed her softly. “Sit down, baby. Enjoy your coffee.” I pushed the mug toward her and she lowered herself into the chair. “Eat up,” I urged, sitting down across from her. “We have the whole day to play before work begins tomorrow.” I wanted to get her mind off of Fiona’s bitchy message.

“What are we going to do?”

“Anything you want. Snorkeling, scuba-diving, sunning ourselves, napping, hiking, oh, and apparently we need to shave my balls at some point too.”

She giggled. “Ben!”

“What? I’m a rule follower, baby. And you’re my assistant now, so I think you should have to help. Supervise, at least.”

She shook her head, a pretty smile on her mouth. “Thank you for ordering breakfast. This is delicious.” She nibbled on an apricot pastry drizzled in honey. Part of me wanted to keep quiet, to let her assume it was me, but an annoying voice in the back of my head pointed out that Fiona was likely to mention something about sending us breakfast. I needed to prove to Emmy that I could be honest about the big stuff as well as the little things.

“Actually, Fiona had it sent over,” I murmured in between sips of coffee.

Emmy’s eyebrows shot up and she dropped the half-eaten pastry to her plate as if suddenly losing her appetite. She roughly swallowed the bite she’d been chewing, the food visibly being forced down her throat. “Oh.” She rose from the table. “I’m going to shower.”

Shit
.

Having lost my appetite as well, I called the concierge and requested that the food be removed right away so it’d be gone before Emmy was out of the shower.

I would have ordered her breakfast and fed it to her in bed if Fiona hadn’t interfered. Christ, what a mess being stuck between these two women.

• • •

When Emmy emerged from the bedroom dressed in a pair of cutoff jean shorts, red tank top, and tan sandals, it seemed her good mood was back. She looked adorable and sexy at the same time. A smile overtook my mouth. “C’mere, pretty.”

She hesitated, blinking at me.

“Emmy.” I held out my hand and she crossed the room and took it. “Are you okay?”

She nodded thoughtfully but didn’t speak.

“Don’t let her take this from us. I was so happy last night and this morning waking up with you.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’m yours, baby. Trust me, okay?”

She nodded again, blinking up at me with unshed tears. I cupped her jaw and angled my mouth to hers. I felt her arms wind around my waist. We fit perfectly together. I just needed to keep reminding her of that. And the only way I seemed to know how to do it was with physical affection. I wasn’t good at pretty words. I was better at fucking and dirty talk.

“As pretty as you look in these little shorts,” my hands slid down the sides of her thighs, “I need these and your panties off.”

Her eyes darted up to mine and she dragged her tongue across her top lip. “I thought we were going out.” Her voice was quiet, timid. I had to show her that she was mine. Desire flared up inside me and I answered it the only way I could.

“Let me fuck you,” I whispered near her ear and felt her shudder.

I quieted her fears about us, about Fiona, the best way I knew how, by clearing her head of all thoughts but one—getting me inside her. I wasn’t sure why, but I loved to hear her beg for my cock to fill her. Watching her come undone was the best fucking sight in the world. And the way she fit around me like a glove was unreal.

When I started pushing her shorts and panties down her hips, Emmy was already squirming for my touch, already making those tiny whimpering noises that I loved.

Emmy

We’d had two rather unproductive days on the island so far, preferring to remain locked away in our room making love rather than facing the world. We’d christened every room in the suite, having loud, sweaty sex. Part of me wanted to stop him, to tell him that he couldn’t chase away our difficulties with sex. Yet, of course, I hadn’t. I’d let him take me. I was too greedy for his touch.

But this morning we were both up and getting ready for Ben’s first photo shoot in Fiji. I gulped down the remainder of my coffee and checked the clock. We had to be down to the beach in twenty minutes. I wanted to get there early to check on everything, though I supposed worrying about the set details was no longer my concern. My only job now was to make sure Ben arrived on time.

I grabbed my camera and packed it into my oversized purse. I planned to take a few behind-the-scenes photos today and post them to Ben’s various social media sites for his fans to enjoy. A pang of sadness welled up inside me at the thought. Millions of women admired this man. Would he ever really be mine?

Dating someone in the public eye was all new for me. Ben had graced the covers of men’s magazines, billboards, and advertisements around the globe. People worldwide had seen his provocative ads, women everywhere had fantasized about this man. And now he was choosing me. It was a lot to take in.

But I was a firsthand witness to the man himself, the actual person behind the glossy magazine pages. I’d seen him at his best, his worst; knew about his many prescription medications, his long-standing affair with his agent. He was known the world over for his physical beauty and stunning physique, but I knew what was in his heart, in his mind. Loving him provoked an achy intensity inside me. I wanted to soothe him, and hide him away from the world. But it was now my job to help promote him.

Realizing we had only fifteen minutes left to go, I pushed away the thoughts. Crossing the room, I tapped on the bathroom door and pushed it open. “Ben?”

“Almost done, babe.” He shut off the water and stepped out the shower, reaching for a towel.

“Holy crap,” I muttered, pressing a hand over my mouth.

“What?” His gaze followed my line of vision south, and he smirked.

He’d shaved.

Everything
.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “You just . . . um, look a lot bigger.”

His thick cock hung flaccid down his thigh. And as I watched it, it began to rise.

“Ben! We don’t have time for that. We have to go.”

He chuckled, the rich sound rumbling from his chest. “Then stop looking at my dick and telling me it’s big, sweetheart. Guys tend to like that.” He wrapped the towel around his hips and secured it into place. “You can play with him later, I promise.”

“Just hurry up, I don’t like being late.” I strode from the bathroom and left him alone.

Lord, that man had an insatiable sexual appetite.
I was fucked. Literally.

• • •

When we finally made it down to the beach, Fiona was chatting with the photographer, Gentry. A girl was sitting in a makeup chair with her back to me while a makeup artist worked on her. Ben’s coworker today, obviously.

When she turned I instantly recognized her. London. One of Ben’s former girlfriends I’d met last summer in Paris. I hadn’t known that she’d be here. She was clad in a barely-there fire-engine red string bikini so small I could see her ovaries.

When she hopped down from the chair my breathing faltered. She was perfectly tanned and toned with bouncy curls and smoky eye makeup. She looked stunning. A slow smile curled on Fiona’s lips as she watched me look over London.

My heart throbbed in my chest as I watched Ben warmly greet London.
Why hadn’t he told me his ex would be here?
She pointed at the assortment of briefs he’d be expected to wear and they shared a laugh.

Ben approached Gentry next and shook his hand. They talked for a few minutes then he disappeared inside the onsite trailer to change into his first swimsuit.

I stood there, uselessly digging my toes into the sand, feeling utterly alone and out of place without his presence. There was no way I was talking to Fiona and I was too shy to approach London. I doubted she’d remember me from our one awkward encounter during the industry party in Paris. That was the first night Ben informed me, and the world, that I was his girlfriend.

Several minutes later the door to the trailer opened and Ben stepped out.

Holy Speedo, Batman.

His abs and chest looked amazing but when my gaze traveled lower to the large bulge protruding proudly in his snug briefs, I nearly choked on my own tongue. God, he was delicious. All hardened muscle and masculine beauty wrapped up in one tempting package. I wanted to throw a towel around him and shield him from view. Obviously a ridiculous notion considering what he did for a living.

Ben padded barefoot over to the makeup artist, who mussed up his hair so it was perfectly rumpled and then dotted concealer on a few spots before rubbing down his naked skin with bronzing lotion. I wondered if that lotion was edible because he looked good enough to lick.

They got into position and began shooting, several poses together lounging in the sand and playing in the surf, and then changed swimsuits, repeating the process.

I normally loved watching Ben work, but watching him cuddle in the sand with London, wrapped up in each other’s arms and frolicking in the waves, was not fun. Not one bit. I hated seeing Ben’s perfect hands, his long fingers, gripping London’s trim waist. I hated the familiar way her hand curled around his bicep. My stomach twisted like someone had twirled a fork inside me. I felt sick watching them.

They looked great together. The perfect couple. Just knowing they’d been a real couple, that they’d been intimate, that London was one of the three girls Ben had slept with killed me. Deep-seated fear and insecurity rushed up inside me, clouding my head, and making me question everything.

Needing a minute to myself, I turned my back on the shoot and walked off down the beach. I gulped lungfuls of fresh ocean air, pushing away the urge to cry. It was stupid. Ben loved me. He’d told me that repeatedly. But there was no denying that watching him pose, hold, and caress his ex on set was hard. I wasn’t that secure in our relationship to begin with. And London, well . . . she was a perfect ten. Winner of the genetic lottery. And she’d slept with my boyfriend.
Awesome
.

When I made it back to the set everyone was packing up. Ben and London sat at the edge of the water, butts planted in the sand and feet out in the lapping waves. Ben tipped his head back, obviously amused at something she’d said. Taking a deep, calming breath, I boldly approached them. Ben rose to his feet, pulling me into a hug.

“Baby, there you are. Everything okay?” His hazel gaze probed mine.

“Fine,” I lied.

London stood, dusting the sand from her petite bottom. “Hi, Emmy!”

“Hi.” Gosh, she was gorgeous and nice too.

“That outfit fits you perfectly, I’m glad to see.” She smiled at me.

My brow creased as I struggled to understand her meaning. Ben shifted uncomfortably next to me.

London tipped her head back, laughing. “Ben called and asked for my help shopping for you. I picked out all your vacation clothes.” She smiled at me again, her bright white teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

My stomach dropped like a stone. I thought Ben had picked out and packed the pretty clothes for me. Learning that it was actually his ex-girlfriend stung like a venomous bite. “Oh. I hadn’t realized. Thank you,” I managed to choke out. “Yes, the clothes fit.” No doubt several sizes bigger than London herself wore. Lord, that was embarrassing. The diet started tomorrow. I would wake up early and run every morning, not eat carbs, or anything processed . . . I began dictating the diet plan in my head when Ben’s arm slipped around my waist and tugged me closer.

“Talk to me. You seem upset.”

My gaze traveled to London and she returned my uneasy expression.

“Hey.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Ben and I dated several years ago. It was short lived and”—
sorry
, she mouthed to Ben—“not all that meaningful. We’ve both moved on. And I’ve never seen him happier. I’m happy for you both.”

“Thank you.” I nodded. It was stupid and insecure of me to feel threatened by their friendship. I repeated that over and over in my head. I didn’t want to be that type of girlfriend. But my damn heart was still throbbing painfully in my chest as I watched London walk away.

Ben was still planted firmly in the sand at my side, waiting for my response. I swallowed heavily. “I feel so in the dark all the time with you, Ben. You should have told me that London was going to be here.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I swore I told you she was booked for this shoot with me.”

I shook my head. That was not a detail I’d forget.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was so preoccupied with actually getting you to come, I didn’t think. And I wanted your bags all packed and ready so that something so mundane didn’t stand in your way. I called London and gave her my American Express. I knew she’d know just what to do. She dropped off all the bags at my apartment and I looked through every article, imagining you in them, and packed them all in the suitcase myself.”

I smiled at his soft, tender tone, the look of genuine concern for me in his eyes. He was trying. He might not know the first thing about being a boyfriend, but he was trying.

“I love you, baby. Please don’t invent things to worry about. There’s nothing between London and I. We’re friends. I promise you.”

I flinched ever so slightly. He’d promised me things before. And now Fiona was pregnant and the last three women he’d slept with all stood within thirty feet of each other on this sandy beach. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head to clear the thoughts running rampant. “I must be getting a little emotional.”

He took my hands in his. “Don’t apologize for how you feel. When I saw you take off down the beach it took everything in me not to go after you. I want to know how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. Always. But promise me you won’t take off again.”

“I promise,” I murmured.

Ben tipped my chin up to his. “Breathe for me, Emmy.”

I pulled in a deep shuddering breath.

“There, that’s my girl.” His hands moved up and down my bare arms, lightly caressing them. He caught something in my tone. “Now tell me what else is bothering you.”

“I just didn’t know London, um, bought my clothes,” I murmured.

“No, baby. I bought them. She picked them out.”

I nodded. I knew that.

“Now tell me what this is really about.” His tone was sure and steady.

“This world is all new to me still. When I saw your hands all over her, the way you two looked together . . . I just started ticking off all the ways I don’t measure up.”

An angry wave of tension rolled off him and his hands curled around my elbows, locking me in place and pinning me with his eyes. “I’m thankful as shit you don’t fit into this world. You remind me that there’s so much more to life. You’re my something real to grasp on to at the end of the day. You ground me. I love you and that’s not going to change just because I spent the day rolling around in the sand with London for my job.”

My gaze drifted downward.

“Baby.” He lifted my chin again. “It might look glamorous, but my sand chafed balls would disagree.”

I chuckled lightly. “I think I’m ready to go back to the room.”

He nodded. “Then let’s go. I need to wash all this damn bronzer off my skin, too.”

We’d just started back for the hotel when Fiona stepped in our path, her happy little smile pinning Ben. “I wanted to say thank-you,” she purred.

“Uh . . . okay,” Ben said, eyeing her curiously.

“For the baby shower gift. That was very sweet of you, love,” Fiona said, addressing Ben.

He’d gotten her a baby gift?

My body went rigid and I felt Ben’s hand tighten around mine. So much for the promise I’d just made not to run. I felt like fleeing for the moon right about now. Forget that, the moon wasn’t far enough.

“You’re welcome,” he retuned, his tone short but polite.

Fiona sauntered away, her hand resting against her ever-growing belly.

Ben gripped my shoulders, turning me to face him, his face stricken with panic. “I want you to know, I didn’t get her something for her baby. I just chipped in ten bucks toward the office gift. It was a stroller from everyone at Status; it wasn’t just from me.”

“Oh.” I shouldn’t care, should I? She was still his agent. He worked with Status. That meant he was practically required to chip in on the boss’s gift. He was looking at me with the most worried stare. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I placed my palm on his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. She tried to make it sound worse than it was—but that’s to be expected. She’s a bitch.”

A crooked smile overtook his mouth. “So you’re not mad?”

“I would have preferred if you didn’t chip in at all so she wouldn’t have anything to grasp on to, but it’s fine.”

He kissed my lips. “You’re the best. I don’t deserve you and I know that. I handed Gunnar the ten dollars without even thinking. I’ll try to be more aware of this type of thing.”

I hoped his love would be enough to outweigh all the baggage threatening to overwhelm me at every turn.