Hollywood Ever After (6 page)

That was comforting. My boldness restored, I answered, “I’ve
never
done this.” But I wanted to, more than I wanted anything.

He smiled. His lips closed on mine, stealing what little breath I had. His hand slid up and down my bare back in long, mesmerizing strokes. I leaned into him, into his touch, shivering in his arms.

My hands opened the buttons of his shirt and I reveled in the feel of his warm skin beneath my hands. My lips lightly traced his collarbone, pressing against the racing pulse in his neck. His hands trembled against my back, inflaming my desire. I shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall.

His hands rested on the straps of my dress, hesitating. I helped, pushing the straps so the dress slid silently to the floor. His eyes traveled down the length of me before my body was crushed against him. His chest was hard against mine, his back warm and solid under my fingers. I tilted my face to his, wanting his lips on mine. His mouth pulled and parted, stoking the fire of my desire.

He had big hands with long, strong fingers. Very nice for playing the piano, I thought as we stumbled together to fall on the bed. Those hands were everywhere, removing the scanty bit of lace serving as my panties before traveling up the back of my knee, my hip, my back. His lips followed. There was more to me than I’d previously realized and he was rapidly exploring every inch. I was going to explode.

He was not hurried, just driven. He was shaking with need, I could feel it, and I wanted all of him. His hands were on the waist of his pants, unbuttoning them and yanking them off with impatient, jerky movements before tossing them across the room. The instant our skin touched, I gasped at the sensation of him against me. There was no control as I let my hands roam over him, loving the feel of him.

His hand stroked upward from my hip to my side, tracing my breast. My eyes closed, my nerves inflamed by his touch. His lips fell to my nipple, his tongue and mouth making me arch into him. My hands tangled in his hair and I stifled a moan.

He pulled me under him then, his fingers traveling lightly across my stomach to grasp my knee and part my legs. In one agonizingly slow movement, he was part of me. His breath came out in a guttural moan. I wasn’t sure I could breathe at all. The feeling of him deep inside me made me ache for more.

He stilled over me, his jaw tight as he fought for control. Something about his fragile restraint empowered me. My hand brushed over his cheek and I wrapped a leg around his hip, the movement making his jaw rigid and his face redden as he blew out a deep breath. I arched beneath him, feeling my body respond and my chest tighten.

“Bloody hell,” his voice rasped as he began to move with me. His movements were sporadic. I could feel his restraint as he tried to breathe through the urge to let himself go.

I whispered against his neck, “Don’t hold back.”
Please don’t stop,
I thought as I lifted my hips.

He looked at me once then let go with a groan. His hips thrust powerfully again and again, his body hard and fast against me. He pushed, his breath breaking as a low groan escaped him, and his hands tightened on my hips. He stiffened, his groan strangled and his fingers holding my hips as he climaxed. I had never experienced anything so intense in all my life. I was aching with need.

He fell, coming to lie beside me, gasping. One hand was still tangled in my hair, the other now on my stomach.

“Dear God,” he said raggedly.

I managed a breathy laugh. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him into a tight embrace. I tried to relax against him, tried to ignore the throb of longing between my legs. I rested my head on his chest, the pounding of his heart a rapid drumbeat in my ear. It had been too long since my body had been loved and it was eager to remember it to the fullest extent.

We lay there quietly for a few minutes, his breathing slowing. “Sorry, Claire,” he whispered. His hands pulled my hair back, smoothing it over my shoulders so he could see me.

“For what?” I rolled, resting my chin on his chest to look at him.

“For being selfish.” He raked a shaky hand through his outrageously mussed hair with an air of self-disgust.

I rolled onto my back, trying to catch my ragged breath. I shook my head, aware of the heat on my cheeks and the tingles flowing throughout my rather expectant body. My voice was soft and breathy when I said, “Never apologize for passion.”

He trailed one finger across my left breast and down my stomach, making me shiver uncontrollably. There was little doubt that I was still on fire. His eyes traveled over my face and his breath quickened. He sat up and pulled me into his lap, kissing me thoroughly. I held him to me hungrily. I was trembling fiercely against him, a soft groan escaping as my need took over.

I could not restrain the moan that ripped from my throat as our bodies joined together again. I smiled against his mouth and felt his lips form an answering smile.

The fire, already burning brightly, rose within me as we moved together. His hands, his lips pushed me quickly to the edge. His breath was hot against my neck as my head fell back, giving in to pure sensation.

I felt the tightness in my stomach explode in that moment, my ragged breathing turning into a long broken moan. I saw his eyes widen as I cried out with the force of my release. I had no time to recover. He continued to move hungrily. My body was quick to reignite under his hands, his mouth.

When his body shook with release, mine followed, and our cries filled the room. We fell together on the bed, both of us gasping for breath.

He spoke softly moments later. “Much better.”

I nodded, but couldn’t speak. My heart was racing and my body was a throbbing mass of liquid warmth. I’d forgotten how this could feel. Every inch of me seemed to pulse sweetly with fulfillment.

“You all right, Claire?”

I peeked at him through my tangled hair. His hand brushed my hair away so he could see me. A huge smile covered my face. “Very,” I said breathlessly.

His smile mirrored mine.

As we lay, wrapped around each other, our breathing softened. The sound of the ocean, the crashing of the waves, and the occasional cry of a gull ricocheted off the room’s walls. He turned onto his side, humming softly, watching me with intense fascination. His finger started a leisurely journey across my collarbone, between my breasts, circling each one, then across my stomach. He seemed engrossed in his inspection, his eyes following the fluid movement of his finger. I let my hand stroke through his hair, fascinated by his exploration.

His eyes traveled over my cesarean scar, his fingers following. “Can I ask how you got that?”

“Um…” I chewed my lip, trying to decide if revealing my maternal status might be a mood killer. “Knife fight?” I giggled nervously, a teasing smile on my face.

“Must be a Texas thing.” He laughed, started humming again, continuing his inspection.

“You’ll find plenty to ask about if you look too closely.” I tried to sound nonchalant.

His brow furrowed. “You’re lovely.”

I laughed. “It’s dark. Really dark.” I watched my hand as it traveled over his side. “However,
you
would be a wonderful model. Your body is…” I blushed. “Well, there’s hours of sketching potential there.”

“You’re an artist? And a writer?” His eyes searched my face before turning back to my body, tracing my left nipple distractingly.

I looked at him, smiling as his eyes flickered between my breast and my face. “I guess I used to be.”

His hand stopped, splaying across my chest as he spoke. “Used to be? I didn’t realize you could stop being an artist.”

I shrugged, unsure what to say.

He pushed his hair back, leaving it standing on end. “Claire, are you trying to be an enigma?” His brow furrowed a bit before he laughed. “You don’t want to talk about
you?
” He touched my heart to emphasize his point.

I leaned over him then, smiling. “There’s not that much to know.”

He lay back and looked up at me, his hand coming to rest against my cheek. “I’d like to know you better.”

I shook my head, arching a wicked eyebrow to distract him. “You know me better than—”

“I mean in here.” His finger touched the middle of my forehead, shaking his head with exaggerated exasperation. He paused then, his eyebrows rising. “Hold on a minute. I know you better than how many?”

I blushed and shook my head, laughing a little. “Why would you want to know? Is that a male thing? To want to know your conquest ranking, I mean?”

He shrugged. “Probably.” He took a strand of my hair between his fingers. “I’ll tell you.”

I shook my head and tried to sound indignant. “I don’t think I want to know.” But I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Four. Including you.” His voice was rather detached. “First was a girl from school. We had several hot and messy encounters in the costume closet of the theatre. Second was at a party in a pile of coats. She wore horrible perfume and we were very drunk. And my last girlfriend, Fiona, who was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen… Well, we were together for almost three years but she never made a sound when we were in bed. I have no idea if she even liked sex.”

“I suppose I’m…more vocal.” I winced, embarrassment churning in my stomach as I rolled onto my back beside him.

He rose on his elbow over me. His hand cupped my face as he smiled a very satisfied smile. “Maybe a bit.” He kissed me. “Which was fantastic, actually.” He was dropping kisses along my neck and shoulder, his hand feather-light on my stomach. “You?”

“Um, yes…yes, I like sex. I imagine my response probably gave that away, though.” I blushed. He waited and then I realized what he was waiting for. “Oh.
That
question. Really?” I was suddenly embarrassed. His face was expectant in the shadows over me.

He laughed. “That many, eh?”

My mouth fell open and I spoke quickly, horrified at what he might think. “Two—you included.”

There was a long silence. I think I must have held my breath. His fingers froze in my hair and his face crumpled. “How should I feel about that?” His hand fell to my face, holding it as he stared intently into my eyes.

I considered his thoughtful expression. “I’m not expecting anything. I mean, you don’t need to freak out,” I said softly.

He shook his head. “That’s not it. I guess, well, I feel a bit…honored.”

Something stirred inside me at his words, at the look on his face. “I met my ex-husband before I could even drive.” I paused then, chewing the inside of my lip out of habit. “Would you rather I said I was some serial philanderer? Or I’d been easy in college? Or that I was some frigid, dried-up—”

“No worries there.” His laugh shook his entire frame, making our bodies brush in interesting ways. His eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“For the first time in a very long time, I felt wanted for me. And this—” My hand wandered leisurely over his chest and his stomach. “—was more than I’d imagined.” I touched his mouth with my fingertips, my stomach tightening as my mind replayed the last few minutes.

He kissed my fingertips. “
Wanted
is a bit of an understatement, Claire. It also implies past tense.” His eyes were warm as he leaned down to kiss me gently. “Happy birthday,” he spoke against my lips. His mouth was soft on mine, growing more demanding as my hands began to explore. He was pulling me under him, his breath growing uneven against me as we gave in to each other again.

***

My hair hung wet over the back of the chair, my feet propped up on the wrought iron table before me. It was quiet; I was blissfully aware of that fact. The sun was rising slowly, barely over the horizon. I sighed, letting the steam from my coffee warm my face.

My cell phone vibrated in my lap. I smiled as I answered it.

“You’re awake? Hold on, hold on.” There was a slight ruckus and then Natalie counted, “One, two, three.” And three voices began to sing loudly.

“Happy birthday to you…” they sang, with Will adding silly sounds at the end of each line. I was laughing by the time they finished serenading me.

“We didn’t think you’d be up, so we were going to leave you a birthday message. But I’m so glad you’re awake because I can’t find my blue jacket and it’s really cold.” Natalie’s voice sounded relieved.

“Well, that was the best birthday serenade ever. I’m glad I was awake for it. Thank you.” I added, “I think you left it in the car; look in the very back.”

“Did we wake you?” She was moving around. I could hear the regular morning routine in the background.

“Nope.” I sighed contentedly. “I went for a long run and now I’m watching the sunrise turn the ocean to liquid gold.”

“You know, it
is
your birthday. You could take a break and relax, Mom.”

“I am relaxing, Nat. I mean, a run on the beach at sunrise? Pretty sweet.”

She laughed. “I guess it does sound nice. Oh, I printed out your picture and put it on the fridge this morning!”

“Oh really?” I smiled.

She was in story mode. “Yeah, Grams and Will were all ‘Who is that?’ And I was all ‘Mom’ and they were all ‘No way!’ You
so
do not look like you.” She laughed. “Not that you look bad!”

“I know what you mean.” I laughed softly.

“Oh, hey, Will says he loves you, but he doesn’t want to talk on the phone. So here’s Grams. Love you, Mom!”

There was a bit of static as the phone changed hands. “You’re awake? Isn’t it a little early?” My mother sounded surprised.

“Watching the sun come up,” I replied. I could hear Natalie and Will in the background, along with the faint tune of their favorite show on the TV.

“I think Natalie e-mailed your picture to everyone in her address book
and
added it to her Facebook page.” She laughed. “You look like a celebrity, sweetie! And then Will said he saw you on the news this morning—”

“What?” I had closed my eyes to listen to her and the familiar home sounds. My eyes were wide open now. “What do you mean, on the news?”

“Oh, we didn’t get to hear it. The TV was muted. And then when Will yelled that you were there and Nat turned the volume on, you weren’t there anymore.” There was a pause. “Eat one more bite, Will, please.”