To Catch a Star (22 page)

Her eyes flew open.

He watched her, held her gaze, as he eased the black lace down her legs, tossed it away, then crooked an arm beneath her knee, coaxing her to open for him.

His mouth was even hotter than his hands. He licked, he sucked, he scraped her gently with his teeth.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you come.”

And she did, scorching and furious and unrestrained, and her hands were in his hair, and she shouted his name.

He moved to lie beside her, cradling her as she struggled for breath and for sanity in the aftermath. She buried herself in him, breathing him in.

“Still think sex is highly over-rated?” he whispered in her ear.

Hell no! His mouth had done more for her than any other man had ever done with his entire body. If this was what it could be like… She pressed her eyes closed.

“Don’t block me out.” He stroked the hair back from her face. “Look at me.”

She didn’t want to. His gaze stripped her bare, saw everything.

He cupped her face and pressed tender kisses to her eyelids, to her nose, to the corner of her mouth. She rocked against him.

“Ready for me?” he asked.

She’d been ready for him from the moment he’d stood on the stage and spoken the truth. No, earlier. From the moment she’d re-tied his bowtie and he’d looked at her with such fierce longing her legs had barely managed to keep her standing. Or perhaps since the night on the bridge when he’d massaged her hands and she’d truly
felt
for the first time since she was a child.

She nodded.

He rose from the bed to unhook his trousers. She lifted herself up on her elbows to watch the slow slide of the zipper. Then he pushed the trousers down over his hips and she bit her lip. Commando.

She couldn’t breathe. On the red carpet, on the stage…

Then he was back on the bed beside her, and there were no longer any barriers between them, neither physical nor emotional.

Until he broke eye contact, dropped his head to her chest and moaned.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly panicked. He couldn’t stop now!

“Protection.”

She didn’t want even as much as a piece of latex between them. She trusted him. But clearly for him this wasn’t as all or nothing as it was for her. She blinked away the hurt as he rolled off her, reaching into the nightstand.

Then he was back, rolling on the condom with an expertise she didn’t want to think about. He supported himself with his arms as he positioned his weight between her legs. “This is your last chance to back out. After this, there’ll be no going back,” he warned.

She wouldn’t back out. And she didn’t care if it was stupid or impetuous. Or if it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to her.

His erection pressed against her opening and she rocked against him. He needed no further invitation. He thrust into her, sinking deep, stretching her.

Then slowly he withdrew. And thrust again, deeper, harder.

She moaned and began to move with him, the push and pull within her starting a chain reaction, waves of hot pleasure building, building, dragging her deep into that blessed place where nothing existed but pleasure. And then lightning burst behind her eyelids and her entire body was alive with it. He murmured her name, over and over again until he stiffened and came inside her.

For an eternity they lay together, limbs entwined, sweat-slickened bodies heaving.

Then he kissed her temple.

She wanted to speak, but there were no words left in her. Only feeling. She looked into his face, and he smiled, exhausted, happy. Relaxed. No longer driven, no longer working to impress. No more smart comments or chip on the shoulder. Just himself.

And she had done this to him.

He rolled off her, lifting her to open the bed covers, then slipping back in beside her, pulling the covers closed over them.

“I should leave,” she murmured into his neck.

He shook his head, and wrapped a possessive arm around her. “No, you shouldn’t.”

When she woke, the lights were still on. Tessa lay on her side and Christian lay curled around her, his chest to her back, his arm lying loose over her hip. His body warmed her, a reassuring solidity that she sank into, drew strength from.

She should feel shame at what she’d done. Or at least a little troubled. But she didn’t. How could something that felt so right and so good possibly be so wrong?

She turned in his arms to look at him and he stirred. His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened.

“I slept,” he said, his voice sleep-thickened.

“Is that a surprise?”

“I haven’t slept this easily or this well in ages.” He grinned, more awake now. “At least not since I met you.”

He nudged his thigh between hers and she felt his erection stir against her leg.

“I should go,” she said. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t seem to bring herself to move away from him.

“Don’t,” he said. “We still have the better part of a very fine vintage to finish. You wouldn’t want to waste it, would you?” He nuzzled her neck and she sighed.

“No, I wouldn’t want to waste it.”

They didn’t get to the champagne for a long while. When they did, the ice had long since melted, but they didn’t care. They sat in the vast bed, their backs against a mountain of pillows, and they talked and kissed and sipped champagne. And then she slid her hand between his legs, and there was no talking and no drinking for another long while.

“You’re wearing me out,” he said at last, stifling a yawn and pulling her into his chest to cuddle her.

“With your stamina? I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Would you think less of me if I said I don’t normally hang around for seconds? Or thirds.” He kissed her. “Or fourths.”

She shook her head. How could she think less of him? He’d stayed for
her
. He didn’t want her to go. She didn’t want to go.

Sleep claimed her again and she drifted back into its welcoming arms. As she closed her eyes, unable to fight their heaviness any longer, he whispered. “Come to Los Pajaros with me.”

The hard, merciless light of dawn filtered into the darkened room. Tessa stretched cramped muscles that protested at the rude awakening. They didn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed.

But this morning her muscles didn’t get a say. Her head was firmly back in charge, and it was saying sensible things like
get out of bed
and
get dressed
and
what the hell was I thinking?!

The empty champagne bottle stood on the bedside table. She couldn’t even remember drinking that much champagne last night. And her head felt clear as a bell. Maybe that was the difference between expensive champagne and signature cocktails.

She rolled over, pillowing her head on her arm, and watched Christian as he slept.

She knew all too well what he was like in the mornings and she didn’t think she could face it right now. Not after what they’d shared last night. And not considering what she had to do this morning.

He wasn’t going to be happy.

She slid from between the sheets, grabbing for the nearest item of clothing. Christian’s shirt. No, that wouldn’t do.

Praying he wouldn’t wake, she tip-toed naked across the floor, collecting bits of clothing as she went into the living room, where she hastily pulled on her clothes. A designer evening dress was hardly appropriate clothing for… she glanced at her wristwatch as she clamped it on… eight in the morning.

Damn! The hotel was sure to be buzzing already. There’d be staff and guests all over the place.

She hovered on the bedroom threshold. Christian still slept soundly. Heaven only knows, he needed it. Last night’s performance, both at the premiere and in the bedroom, were nothing short of stellar.

Should she wake him to say goodbye? It would be the right thing to do. Sneaking out was such a cowardly way to end this. But better a clean break and sweet memories than an ugly scene.

Because end it had to.

He’d asked her to go with him to Los Pajaros. She was pretty sure she hadn’t dreamed that bit. What would it take to make him understand that nothing had changed?

She wasn’t about to throw away everything she’d ever known to go with him to the Caribbean. What would happen when he tired of her – when he grew restless or sated or simply realised how different they were? Where would she go then: home to Westerwald with her tail between her legs and a reputation so tarnished she’d never find a decent husband and have a family of her own?

Or would she be cast adrift as her mother had been, exiled from her friends and her family and her homeland?

No, great as the sex had been – and it had been mind-blowing – it belonged now in the past. One night only; never to be repeated.

Casting one last wistful glance at Christian sprawled across the bed in the other room, naked but for the white sheet that pulled tight across his lower half, she crossed to the door, heels and handbag in hand, and let herself out.

In the corridor she stopped to brush away the tears collecting on her lashes before she turned towards the elevators.

“Hello, Teresa.”

Oh. God. No.

Tessa pasted a smile on her face and hoped her make-up wasn’t too smudged and that she didn’t have bad bedhead. Or stubble burn.

Though it hardly mattered. The evening dress at eight in the morning was enough to scream Walk of Shame.

“Hello Caroline.”

An old school friend, heiress of one of Europe’s largest electrical manufacturers, looking as fresh as a daisy in her hot-pink Zara dress, as if she’d stepped straight from the salon. Caroline’s gaze slid down Tessa’s evening gown to the heels in her hand. “I didn’t know you were in Paris.”

“Just for a couple of nights. What are you doing here?” Teresa tried to match Caroline’s natural perkiness with a fake brightness of her own.

“Shopathon. I need something new to wear to your wedding. Is Stefan here with you?” Caroline glanced over Tessa’s shoulder at the closed door of Christian’s suite.

“He had a couple of days in Paris.” An answer without answering. Teresa’s smile was starting to stretch her face uncomfortably.

“Shame! You’ve only had stolen moments together, haven’t you? Where are you off to?”

My own room
wasn’t an option. But Teresa couldn’t think what else to say. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Would you like to go shopping with me today?” Caroline asked. If she noticed Teresa’s hesitance she gave no indication.

“I can’t. I’m flying back to Neustadt this morning.”

The sooner, the better.

“What a pity. Oh well, I’ll see you at your wedding. A Valentine’s wedding! You two really are the last of the romantics, aren’t you?”

Caroline air-kissed Tessa’s cheeks and breezed off towards the elevators. It was a long time before Tessa was able to move.

Christian blinked against the bright light. He’d left the curtains open and mid-morning sunlight streamed in across the bed. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The bed beside him was empty.

He glanced towards the closed bathroom door and smiled. He hoped she didn’t scrub up too nice this morning. He was rather hoping he’d get to see her looking just a little less than perfect for the first time. Though there was also a rather large chance she was naturally perfect. Skin like hers would be worth more than gold in LA.

He stretched, glorying in the protest of over-used muscles. Even though they hadn’t slept much last night, he felt as if he’d had a week’s rest. God, he couldn’t remember when last he’d felt this way first thing after waking. Hopeful, energised, excited. Perhaps never.

With a bounce in his step, he rose from the bed and moved to knock on the bathroom door. “Tessa?”

No answer.

He frowned and tried the door handle. It was unlocked and he opened it.

The bathroom was empty.

He tried the living room. And the terrace, even though it had to be at least two degrees below freezing outside.

She wasn’t anywhere in his suite. She’d left no sign she’d ever been there. Not even a note.

Perhaps she’d gone downstairs to change? Yes, that was most likely.

He pulled on the nearest clothes at hand, his trousers from the night before. He didn’t bother with shoes, but he grabbed a shirt on his way out of the apartment, only buttoning it up in the elevator, to the curious stares of the elderly couple who got in beside him.

Christian banged on the door to Tessa’s room. Hopefully she hadn’t gone downstairs, because he really didn’t want to say good morning to her with an audience. He wanted to kiss her senseless and entice her back to bed.

And then they could have breakfast together, at the little table where the sunlight streamed in through the French doors. Maybe this morning he’d even let her feed him something more than espresso.

And then he would tell her he loved her. He would tell her until she believed him and dropped this stupid notion of marrying Stefan.

Lucky for him – or her – she opened the door. But before he could indulge in that good-morning kiss, she’d turned back into the room. Behind her on the bed lay her suitcase, packed and ready to go.

“What’s the hurry? The plane isn’t booked until this afternoon,” he said.

She lifted the case from the bed and set it upright. “I’ve booked a commercial airline flight home. I have a cab waiting to take me to the airport.”

A lead weight dropped in his stomach; a physical blow as if he’d been gut punched. He couldn’t breathe.

So this was how it felt.

She’d planned to walk out on him without so much as a “
have a nice day
”.

He’d done the same thing more times than he cared to remember. Yes, he was an ass. And a bastard in more ways than one. But that didn’t mean he didn’t at least deserve a ‘good morning’ after the intimacy they’d shared last night. Or a ‘goodbye’.

Better yet, she shouldn’t be leaving him at all.

He grabbed her arm, stopping her, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t go.”

“Why are you here, Christian?” She sounded tired. And not in the
“I didn’t sleep last night because I was having too much fun”
way he was used to from women. “I have to go. It’s better this way.”

“Wasn’t last night special for you? Didn’t it mean anything?”

“It was special.”

“So come back to bed with me. And after that, come to Los Pajaros with me.”

She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Have you forgotten I’m getting married in a few days? What happened last night doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re still going to marry him? Why?”

“Because this marriage is bigger than just him and me. It’s for our families and our community. And Stefan will be the perfect husband.”

“But he’s not perfect
for you
. I saw the two of you together. I’d have to be blind not to see that neither one of you is in love. What amazes me is that you can’t see it.”

“Of course we’re not in love. But a good marriage isn’t based on something as fickle as love. There are other, much better, reasons for getting married.”

He bit his cheek until the metallic tang of blood burned his throat. “Nothing’s changed, has it? You aristocrats still all stick together, marry each other, exclude anyone who isn’t like you. And I thought marriages of convenience were a thing of the past!”

“This isn’t a marriage of convenience. It’s a marriage between friends. Friendship is a much more reliable basis for a strong marriage than lust.”

Christian frowned. “How can you shut down your emotions like that? That’s just… unthinkable. You’re going to tie yourself to someone for the rest of your life based on the fact that you get along? I get along with Dominic, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry him. What happens if one of you falls in love?”

“That’s not going to happen. Neither of us is built that way. Besides, love, lust, they’re not real. This… ” she waved a hand between them… “is nothing more than a chemical reaction.”

“No, it’s not. What we have is so much more than chemistry.” He took her hands and held her gaze. “Tell me you don’t feel this? After what we shared last night, I can’t believe you can go back to a sterile relationship with someone who doesn’t love you. Not with what I can offer you.”

She pulled her hands away. “And what are you offering me?”

“I love you. I want to be with you.”

She shook her head. “That’s not enough. This is all just smoke and mirrors. I can’t trust you, Christian. One day I’m going to wake up and this will be gone. You’ll be gone. It’s what you do and chemistry doesn’t last.”

He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. His track record wasn’t good. Though the mere thought of waking
any
morning without her there beside him made him feel ill. Not after what he’d tasted last night. He wanted more of that.

She bit her lip. “But Stefan won’t be gone. He’ll never abandon me. I made a terrible mistake last night, and I can’t even blame it on the alcohol. But this can never, ever happen again.”

That was twice she’d called him a mistake. Her words ground salt into old wounds. That’s all he’d ever been. In spite of the fans, the glory, the respect, he was still just a mistake. The mistake that cost his mother her career, her family and her home.

The mistake that Tessa didn’t want to repeat.

He didn’t need to look her in the eyes to know what he would see. He’d declared his love and she’d said it wasn’t enough.

He’d never known pain like this existed. It blossomed through his chest, smothering him, so he could hardly breathe.

She’d said it as if his love was worthless to her. She didn’t want him.

And wasn’t that just the story of his life?

She might as well have slapped him, for the look on his face. The pain in his eyes stabbed into her. Tears stuck in her throat, choking her. But she couldn’t take back that pain, not without hurting herself.

For Christian it was all or nothing. Most women got nothing. But with her, he wouldn’t settle for less than demanding everything she had to give. More than she was willing to give.

In this one thing they were alike. When it came to her emotions, she was all or nothing too.

But where Christian would choose
all
, living loud and on the spur of the moment and living every emotion, she chose
nothing
. Because no amount of love or phenomenal sex could make up for pain and loss.

Tessa suppressed the nameless emotion that threatened to choke her. This wasn’t the moment for weak emotions. She needed to be strong. The way she’d had to be strong when her mother left and when Rik left.

Christian could never know how tempted she was, or how close she was to giving up everything she’d ever known and valued to run away with him.

She turned away, moved to her suitcase and raised the handle.

She paused. She couldn’t change the way this had to end, but there was one parting gift she could give him, one tiny salve for his wounded ego: the answer he’d come to Westerwald to find.

“I know who your father is.”

She braced herself for the questions.
How do you know? Who is he?

“Why did he send her away?”

Not that one. She wasn’t ready for that one. “I don’t know that he did. I don’t even know if he knew she was pregnant. But someone knew and they made sure she didn’t stay around to embarrass him.”

His face hardened. The look in his eyes frightened Tessa; so hard, so angry.

“Because she was black?” he bit out.

“Because he was about to be married.”

Christian sat down on the arm of the edge of the bed as he processed her words. “So you’re telling me my father was a philandering bastard?”

Ouch. Just a little too close to home.

He shook his head. “My mother believed he loved her.” His voice was bitter.

She thought of Archduke Christian. He’d loved his wife. Passionately. But he was an honest and honourable man. If he’d told Connie Hewitt he loved her, then he’d believed it at the time. “He probably did, but his marriage had been arranged. It was too important to sacrifice for his own desires.”

Christian laughed, a bitter sound. “What is it with you aristocrats? This isn’t the nineteenth century. Why do you all act as if your marriages have some sort of national significance?”