NicenEasy (6 page)

Eventually she couldn’t stand it anymore. The day before
she’d have joined in the conversation with alacrity, glad to find other fans,
but last night everything changed—and today it had changed even further. She
wanted time to think, get her head on straight.

“Drink, Carl?” She shook the empty wine bottle. “Oh dear.
Time to hit the bar?”

The bar outside the ballroom had a line a mile long, so they
went to the main bar downstairs, which was also thronged with partygoers, but
at least the waiting area was only two deep. They had a chance. Carl had been
drinking steadily since the waiters had cleared away the snacks and he didn’t
show any sign of letting up. She’d get him a drink here and then take him up to
his room, run the gauntlet of his roaming hands and shove him onto his
bed—alone. Probably leave him a note about the morning and reinforce it with a
text.

When the barkeep saw her badge, he presented them with two
blue drinks with silver umbrellas perched on the edge, courtesy of one of the
authors sponsoring the event. But only to conventiongoers, naturally. And only
one each.

It turned out that one was all anyone would need. The drink
tasted of cough medicine and the alcohol content must have been sky-high,
because after her first sip, she nearly choked. Carl drank his and then swapped
glasses with her. “Maybe you shouldn’t, Carl,” she protested.

He waved away her concerns. “I’m used to it. Long lunches
with potential clients. It immunizes you.”

Impressed that he could still say “immunizes”, she didn’t
try to stop him drinking hers. A few half-full glasses lay on nearby tables but
to her relief, after a lingering look, Carl decided to leave them alone.

“Getting close to bedtime,” she said.

Carl winked. “Sure is. You know what they were talking
about, that enticement thing?”

“Yeees.” She leaned back a little.

“How about a little enticement upstairs?”

She’d feared that. Carl Morano of the busy hands could get a
lot worse with alcohol. “We have a professional relationship, Carl.”

He made a strange sound, halfway between a snort and a
laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been coming on to me all day.”

Nice Carl had disappeared, replaced by Sleazy Carl. Both had
busy hands, but one had difficulty taking no for an answer. The other, the
sober one, desisted when asked to. She tried again. “Busy day tomorrow. How
about I see you to the elevators?” She laughed but it sounded forced even to
her. “This place is a maze.”

“Oh I can find my way around just fine.” He winked.
“Usually.” He moved closer. “’Specially around a woman’s body.” His breath on
her face, he murmured, “Wanna find out?”

“Not particularly.” She’d reached the end of her tact. It
seemed only “No” would do now.

“Is this man bothering you?”

Crisp, cool and sexy, and the last voice she wanted to hear
right now. She didn’t turn around to face Donovan. “We’re just fine.”

Carl glanced over her shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t the man
of the hour. How are you, buddy? And what you doin’ here?”

Now she had to turn around. She stood awkwardly between the
two men, afraid to meet Donovan’s gaze—afraid of what she’d find there. Not
difficult, when he was so tall, but she felt a compulsion to look at him and
she didn’t know where it came from. Him or her.

“I’m at a convention.”

“I thought you’d be busy with the band.”

“Yeah,” Donovan drawled the word. “Very. But a man’s got to
have some time out, hasn’t he?”

“My editor says you have a book out.”

A sharp movement told her he’d turned to stare at her. “Is
that right?”

“It’s common knowledge,” she mumbled.

“Do people know which book and which author? Sweetheart?”

He didn’t sound in the least fond. She felt his fingers
under her chin, gently urging her to look up at him. She had little choice.
Steeling herself, she raised her head and her gaze clashed with his.

She knew it would be like this, falling into his orbit. He
had charisma that knocked her out every time, sex appeal that seeped through to
her very bones and his touch sent fire through her whole body. Treacherous
body. “No.” She owed him the truth but only about the book. Not about anything
else. Not after what he’d done, she reminded herself, firming her resolve.

He stared at her, probably trying to ensure she was telling
the truth. Insulting. “I keep my promises.”

“I might hold you to that.”

She jerked away, back into Carl’s arms. He held her tight,
her bottom pressed against the proof that alcohol in quantity didn’t slow him
down much. When she tried to break away, he held her more firmly. “Maybe we
should take this upstairs,” he said.

Donovan’s eyes sparked anger, or fury, or—something she
didn’t want to interpret. “Before you get busy, I want to talk to you.”

“Tough,” she managed, hoping she’d injected the right amount
of scorn into it. He flinched, barely perceptibly. “I’ll take Carl upstairs,
then I’ll come back down.” What had caused that flinch? Did he feel sorry? She
wouldn’t rest until she knew.

“Come to my room. You know where it is.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can. You’re on the
security level.”

He made a sound of exasperation. “I’ll wait here, then.”

They were garnering attention. People were looking,
murmuring, their voices getting lower so they could listen in. Donovan’s eyes
lost focus for a fraction of a second. If she’d been any farther away, she
wouldn’t have seen it. He sighed. “Go. But if you don’t come down, I’ll come
after you.”

She faced him defiantly. “If you get the chance.”

Carl took a hand. “Hey, baby, you might not be down for a
while.” He turned her in his arms and grinned at Donovan. “Get your own woman.”
He glanced around. “Doesn’t look as if you’ll have to wait long.”

Then he covered her mouth with his. A soft, wet ring. Too
wet, too firm, he sucked her lips into his mouth and clamped his arms around
her.

She slammed her hands on his shoulders and pushed. Nothing.
He had some strength, more than she’d imagined. The shirt crumpled under her
hands but pressure had no effect, so she lifted her hands and brought them down
again, slapping against him. Nothing.

He licked her mouth when she refused to open for him, and
dragged her closer.

He heaved, then heaved again. Realizing what was happening,
knowing she couldn’t get away in time, she let her knees give way and dropped,
bowing her head. Better than getting it in the face.

Hot streams of a thick liquid substance poured over her head
and shoulders as the blue drink finally got the better of Carl. He bent, his
grip on her relaxing, and finally she could move away.

“Ah fuck. Stay there, Allie.” Donovan sounded calm, almost
as if he expected it. He might have seen the change in Carl before Allie had a
chance.

She didn’t want to lift her head, but the stink of vomit
surrounded her until she had to swallow her own bile.

Something dropped over her head and someone wiped and
dabbed. “We are so going upstairs,” Donovan said in a voice that invited no
argument. “Sorry, man.” That to a member of the bar staff who’d arrived on the
scene. “Can you handle it from here?” She heard a crackle as a note changed
hands.

“Come on.” Slowly, she got to her feet. Despite the mess, he
put his arm around her waist and she realized that the cloth he’d used was his
T-shirt. She felt disgusting, hated Carl at that moment. Carl Morano couldn’t
handle his alcohol. A lesson hard learned.

Donovan led her away through groups of aliens and starship
crew, all of them giving her a wide berth. Understandably. But Donovan stayed
close, curving his body protectively over her.

They stood clear of the walls in the escalator, but when she
opened her mouth to apologize, he touched her lips. “Don’t say anything. We’re
going straight to the shower, and when we’re clean, we’ll talk. Only then. I
promise I won’t hurt you, won’t do anything you don’t want me to.
I swear
it.
”

The emphasis on the last three words made her believe it.
Even when he’d used her earlier he hadn’t hurt her. He could have forced her
head down on his cock, could have rammed inside her without testing her for readiness,
but he’d done neither. Something else had caused the behavior. Not just his
anger with her.

She went, and she let him take her into his suite and
straight through to the shower. She dropped his ruined T-shirt on the floor
and, all shyness gone in favor of getting clean, stripped out of her filthy
clothes.

Turning, she found he’d done exactly the same thing. It felt
so natural that it disturbed her. She’d never been relaxed about her nudity, so
this felt new and different and oddly special.

However she knew one thing—of all the times to try to
analyze a situation, this was most definitely not it. So she stepped under the
spray with a sigh of relief, feeling him come up behind her with nothing more
than worrying whether the spray would cover them both.

Of course it would. He had a suite, and even in a four-star
hotel, extra degrees of comfort existed. Her room had a rainwater head that
she’d decided to save up for once she got home. This thing had two of them,
plus a handheld spray. Water poured down on them both in abundance.

For a full five minutes they stood, barely touching, letting
the clean water do its work before she saw his hand come around her to grab a
tube of body shampoo. Then bubbles cascaded over her face and down the rest of
her skin.

Disdaining cloths and sponges, he washed her with his hands,
at first keeping to her shoulders, her back, her stomach and her legs from her
lower thighs downwards. Then he hesitated before slipping his hands loosely
around her waist but not bringing her any closer to him. His wet hair brushed
her neck when he leaned forward.

“Allie, I’m sorry.”

The heartfelt, simple apology moved her as few other things
would have. She turned in his arms so she could see his face. Water dripped
from his hair and lashes, poured down his cheeks like tears. His eyes showed
nothing but contrition.

“What are you apologizing for?”

He really had the most expressive eyes. They widened now as
his surprise showed. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’m sorry for
hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me. You made sure you didn’t.” He had, and
while she hadn’t registered it at the time, she knew it for certain now. Then
she did one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life. She preferred to
keep her thoughts private, her feelings to herself, but she owed him honesty.
No, she wanted to give him honesty, wanted to know more about herself and
perhaps about him too. “I liked it.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she gently laid her
fingers across it, suppressing a slight shudder when she felt the heat of their
attraction once more. “No, listen. I’m sorry too. I should have said something
about my job, but you devastated me. I didn’t know that kind of fantasy would
turn me on in real life but, Donovan, it did. I should have known.”

She swallowed, preparing to reveal her innermost secrets for
the very first time. “I imagined those kinds of scenarios when I—when I—” For
all her new-found resolve, she couldn’t say “masturbate” out loud. Her mother
had taught her that good girls didn’t do that kind of thing, much less voice it
aloud. She’d gotten over one part of that stricture and up to now, she’d
considered it the most important part. Now she wasn’t so sure.

His hands lay still on her body and they touched nowhere
intimate. A gentle smile creased his lips. “When you bring yourself off? Jesus,
even the thought of you doing that—” He glanced down. His cock stood at rampant
attention. He lifted his gaze back to her eyes and his smile turned rueful.
“Sorry. I can’t help it around you.”

“That’s usually a compliment.” Unable to resist, she went on
her toes and kissed him.

With a groan, he pulled her close. Their bodies met from
their shoulders to their thighs, his cock pressing against her stomach. Their
mouths melded in the kind of kiss she’d only dreamed of before they met,
perfectly attuned. He finished the kiss and stared down at her, his eyes
gentler in expression. He kissed her again softly and she responded, giving
tenderness back. They had both made mistakes. She didn’t know where to go from
here. “We need to talk,” she murmured, her eyes drooping when he delivered
another kiss.

“Later.” He reached over her head and switched off the
shower. The sudden silence punctuated by the soft drip of water struck her to
her soul. This seemed like an incredibly important moment but she had no idea
why. Something passed between them as they stood completely still, gazing at
each other.

With the flicker of a smile, he reached out and snagged a
towel to wrap around her. It felt warm, cozy and soft. All the things she
wasn’t feeling inside right now.

He grabbed another and dried himself roughly, and still he
didn’t take his attention away from her. Then he patted her dry and stepped out
of the cubicle, careful to avoid the mess on the floor. He lifted her out and she
put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, then he led her into the
bedroom. “I want to take you to bed,” he said, “but that’s not why I brought
you here. I want to talk to you.”

“I want to talk to you too,” she said, “but not now.”

His face broke into a smile, relief flooding his features,
and he took her hand to lead her to the bed. Sitting down, he urged her closer,
his hands around her waist, and she stepped between his spread legs. Seeing
him, touching him was all that mattered right now. Carefully, he unwound the
towel from her and lifted it to blot the water from her hair. She watched him
concentrate on his task and let him minister to her, wondering what would
happen now, happy to let events flow.