“Should I go?” He inclines his head toward the door.
There’s a pause. “I’d rather you made good on your message.”
“Would you, now?” That gleam re-emerges like a ray of light. “You don’t get to boss me around, Books. That’s my job.”
“Yes or no?” I prop myself up on my elbow. “It’s a simple enough question.”
He curses and sprawls out on his back, his large frame taking up most of the mattress. “How many times, Charlie? You plus me doesn’t equal simple. You’re some dark-haired, blue-eyed enigma that my HR department has sent to totally fuck me up.”
“You talk too much.” Leaning over, I press my lips to his jawbone, breathing in his vitality and relishing the contrast between soft skin and coarse stubble.
His mouth curves beneath my lips. And just like that, I’m being pinned to the bed by his body. But there’s temperance to his touch now. He’s holding himself back.
“Don’t,” I whisper. I want him to lose his cool. I want my body to push him over the edge as his does mine. “Just leave out the threats about punishment, okay?”
He nods, and I watch his expression heating up all over again. He lets go of me and rocks back on his heels. “Turn over.”
I scramble to do as he says, knees and palms to the mattress, ass bared to him, inhibitions left on the floor by my negligee. I hear the sound of his zipper once more as he releases himself from his jeans. A delicious shiver hits my spine, and I brace myself for what’s coming.
“Is this what you want?” he says harshly, positioning the head of his cock at my entrance.
“Yes!” I need to feel him inside me. I need to have that release.
Instead of complying, he leans over me, bringing his face level with mine, a dark-eyed devil so gleeful in his triumph. “Looks like I brought you to your knees first, Charlie,” he whispers. A split second later, he’s driving all the way into me.
“Shit!”
There’s a delicious bite to my core. Still, I need to feel more of him, so I drop my hips and he slides in even deeper.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says with a groan. “Exactly how I remembered.”
He starts to thrust and I’m jolted forward, over and over. At the same time, his fingers move between my legs to massage my clit, and shocks of electricity follow. My palms slide across the sheet as my orgasm comes out of nowhere, ripping through my body like a destructive twister, making me scream out from the sheer relief of it. A few moments later, I can feel him coming just as violently.
Afterward, he folds his body over mine, resting the warmth of his forehead against the nape of my neck. Our labored breathing slows in unison. He’s still hard inside me. Completing me.
I never want to let him go.
“You made me lose control.” His mild reproach laces the skin between my shoulder blades. He pulls out and I flop down on my front, exhausted. He follows me down and tucks his right leg over mine. “I wish we were back in Ourika. Nothing seemed to touch us there.”
He’s alluding to something, I can tell, but I’m too shattered to figure it out.
“Me, too.” I sigh, drifting in and out of consciousness.
“I’ve never told anyone my reasons for taking on Global before.”
My eyes spring open at this. “Not even Cassie?”
There’s a beat. “Why the hell would I tell her anything?” Green claws start slashing at my insides as he sits up and hunts around for his T-shirt. “Pillow talk was never Cassie’s strongpoint. She was sex, nothing more.”
Like all the others?
Like me?
“Did you promise her three movie contracts for the privilege?” I say drily
Why am I acting like such a bitch again?
“My business and my movies are not dictated to me by who’s between my sheets.” He rises from the bed as if to prove the point, and refastens his jeans with a savage jerk of his belt. “Anyway, let’s talk about you for a change. How many lovers have you had? And book boyfriends don’t count.”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
“Damn right, I’m jealous,” he snarls. “I don’t like it. It’s not an emotion I’m familiar with.”
“Two,” I whisper, shocked by his admission.
His expression changes. “Two?”
I turn my head away, embarrassed. I’m practically a virgin in his eyes. “I need to brush my teeth,” I tell him, vaulting out of bed.
“But you just brushed them.” He tries and fails to grab my arm again as I shoot past. “I can still taste the mint.”
“I don’t care, I’m brushing them again.” I slam the bathroom door and stand there scowling at the white porcelain sink. Damn that man. He’s too good at eliciting secrets from me, while all I get in return is the fine art of deflection.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jake’s long gone when I wake the next day. We made love twice more during the night, but no further words were spoken, cross or otherwise. He took me hard and dirty, his unspoken anger spilling out of his body and into mine, but it silenced my thoughts for a while.
I can still smell the faintest trace of his aftershave on the pillow and I have to fight the urge not to bury my face in it. With a groan, I drag my wristwatch up to my eyes. It’s six-thirty. I need to get my ass in gear. Any minute now, Rachel is going to be banging down my door like my unofficial alarm clock.
Swinging my legs out of bed, I head into the bathroom and catch sight of my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Messy bangs tumbling into eyes, check. Half-blissful, half-scared-as-hell expression on face, check. This thing between Jake and me is like speeding down a freeway in his black Maserati with no brakes.
I need to walk away. I’m locked on a painful collision course with my past. The press is going to figure us out—maybe not today but soon. He’s Jake freaking Dalton. The most famous movie producer in the world. His every move is a study in micro-stalking. If they dig up my name, they’ll expose my history. I can’t deal with that stuff in private, let alone splashed across the headlines.
Even if things don’t get that far, I can’t face Jake’s rejection further down the line. He said it himself—his life is too complicated to have any kind of relationship. We have six weeks left of this shoot. Six weeks of living and breathing each other in like canned air…and then what? His lust for me will dissipate like some falling star. I have an image of me being dumped outside Erizo Airport like an unwanted piece of luggage, watching as Jake flies back to L.A. to take up his media tycoon status.
Feeling more than a little overwhelmed by it all, I switch on the shower and fix my hair into a messy topknot. I’m about to step into the cubicle when I hear shouting from outside. Snatching up my towel, I rush back into my bedroom to open the door. As I do, a fabulous-smelling hunk of hard muscle hits me like a bullet and sends me cannoning off the doorframe.
“Whoa! You okay?” Max is laughing as he grabs my shoulders to steady me. His hands feel smooth and warm, like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, and I have to fight every instinct to untangle myself. Get a grip, Charlie. I’m practically naked and my boss’s reputation with women is more celebrated than his movies. “Knocking my assistant off her feet already, huh? That might be a record.”
“Not even close.” I gently push him away. “See?” I point downward. “Feet firmly on the ground. It takes a lot more than the physical stuff to sway these suckers.”
“Is that so?” He cocks his head at me, feigning interest. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Max is only marginally more dressed than I am, in a pair of black Calvin’s, while I’m clad in the briefest of white towels with my pale skin spilling out all over the place like fistfuls of silly putty. Thank God Jake’s not around. He’d probably go apeshit if he saw us like this.
“What the fuck is going on?”
&nbs
p; My relief is short-lived. I turn to find Jake glaring at us from the other end of the hallway. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, but his black hair is damp from a shower and there’s a residue of color in those cheekbones. I glance down at his hands. He’s clutching two takeaway cups from the café opposite the hotel. That’s a first. He’s never bought me a coffee before.
“Just catching up with my assistant.” Max grins and puts a friendly, proprietary arm around my shoulders.
Uh-oh.
“Naked dictation, is it?” counters Jake, prowling up to us.
“Very productive. You should try it sometime. I’ll send Rachel a memo about it, shall I?”
“What kind of fucking idiot do you take me for?” He grinds to a halt in front of us and I’m hit by a seething wave of cedarwood and citrus.
“Do I really have to answer that?” Max smirks at me as I wriggle out of his embrace. Knowing Jake’s propensity for flying off the handle, I’m amazed that Max is still alive. As for Jake, I can tell he’s dying to drag me into the bedroom and screw some retribution into me. To hell with what he promised last night.
“What was all that yelling?” He shifts his scowl back to his brother. “I heard it down in the lobby.”
“That was me,” admits Max, tutting in disappointment as Jake thrusts the coffees at him, strips off his T-shirt, and drapes it across my chest, covering as much exposed skin as he can. “You’re such a spoilsport. It is nice of you to bring me a latte, though.” He inclines his head to take a sip from one of the cups.
“It’s not for you.” Jake snatches them back. “For God’s sake, go and put some clothes on, Charlie.”
“I found a scorpion in my bathroom.” Max is lounging against my doorframe now, picking at the paint chips on the hinge. “And my…err…company seems to have already left for the day.”
Jake stares at his brother in disbelief. “You were screaming the place down because of a bug?”
“What’s going on?” Rachel has arrived on the scene and is standing there gawping at us. I don’t blame her. Two bare-chested Daltons are enough to stop any woman in her tracks.
“He’s enormous,” Max whispers to me as I ease backward into my room. “Would you like to come and see? The situation may require a feminine touch.”
“I assume you’re referring to the scorpion,” I say innocently, ignoring Jake’s death stare.
“Did I miss something?” asks Rachel, blushing. She can’t seem to meet anyone’s eyes.
“I’ll let your boss explain,” I say, refusing to meet Jake’s.
I dress quickly in denim shorts and my favorite hot pink T-shirt, and make my way downstairs. Jake is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Max. I hope they’re done murdering one another. I need to talk to Max about an interview that GQ Magazine has requested with him next week.
I’m about to enter the breakfast room when a large hand shoots out of nowhere, grabs my wrist, and yanks me sideways into the deserted bar. Before I can scream, my assailant clamps a warm hand over my mouth and kicks the door shut behind us. My lust explodes, drenching my core and my senses. The lights are off, but I’d know that aftershave anywhere.
Jake pushes me up against the nearest wall and grinds his erection into my pelvis. “Rule number four,” he states huskily. “If you’re going to break every other fucking rule going, make sure you keep your producer onside.”
I shake his hand off my mouth in a fury and push him away. “I’m not screwing you to make it in this industry, Jake. I’ve told you that already.”
Maddeningly, his lips start to twitch. “Fair point, as always. It was a poor choice of words.” We stare at each other for a moment. “Whatever happens between us won’t have a lasting consequence on your career, Charlie. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. There are no such assurances for my heart or my sanity.
“Don’t take that fucking tone with me.” Enraged, he pins my arms above my head and burrows his face in my neck. “Did you want him, Books?” he mutters. “Are your pretty pages wet for Max, too?”
“No!”
“Don’t toy. I’m right on the edge as it is.” He kisses me firmly, lips crushing together, pouncing like the beautiful predator that he is. After a beat, he pulls back to look at me, his mouth still glistening with the residue of our kiss. “You’re changing the rules faster than I can make them up.”
“Rules don’t mean anything.” Not when it comes to you and me.
“Don’t quote my brother at me when my dick’s about to explode!” He drops my arms and pushes my T-shirt up, ripping the cups of my bra down, and exposing my nipples. He’s tugging at the front of my shorts next, acting like a man possessed. Any minute now he’ll be screwing me against this wall.
This very public wall.
No one can know about us.
“Stop, Jake! Not here!”
He’s pressing his whole body weight against me and I can scarcely breathe. Even so, his wild assault falters.
“You’re right.” He reels away from me with a curse and smashes his palms against the wall. The moment was too intense; it’s taken an emotional toll on both of us.
I’m still seeing stars as I rearrange my bra and pull my T-shirt back down. Once I’m done, he hooks his fingers into the belt loops of my shorts and jerks me back to him. I go willingly. I have no resistance. His eyes are black pools, and the outline of his erection is still straining against the inside of his jeans. Our bodies collide in another glorious mess of frustration.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve unleashed in me?” he says angrily. Accusingly. Burning me up with the look in his eyes.
I shake my head. He’s so close I can see flecks of molten gold in his irises.
“Is our particular prose not literal enough for you? Here, let me clarify.” He leans in even closer, like he’s about to impart the dirtiest, filthiest secret of all. “Right now, you have a man with a raging hard-on harboring very wicked intentions toward you.”
My stomach starts churning, and not in a good way. It’s right there on my lips—my getaway plan, my exit strategy. The self-preservation button that I’m used to deploying with no regrets. But that was before I had a man as sexy as Jake Dalton staring at me like I’m a living, breathing orgasm.
“Exactly how wicked are we talking here?” I query, licking my lips and making my decision, then and there.
Jake smirks. “Meet me upstairs in five and I’ll show you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
That evening, Rachel and I finish up early and head to a café on the other side of town for dinner. I haven’t seen Jake this morning, not since he fucked me senseless, drowning us both in that ocean of desire that seems to be constantly roiling between our bodies.
He’s been holed up in his office on a conference call to L.A. for most of the day. If I’m honest, it’s been a welcome reprieve. I need to catch my breath. I need to find some perspective. I wish I could spill my guts to Rachel, but Jake’s sworn me to secrecy. It’s the one condition of our relationship. I can’t even tell Lucy back home, and it’s eating me up inside.
The sidewalk outside the café is besieged with white garden furniture and lively locals. Rachel and I take our places amongst them and attempt to decode the menu. Fortunately, our potluck choices turn out to be excellent. A little too excellent. I haven’t eaten this much in weeks, and I bemoan as much as we finish up our meal with piping hot mint tea, a drink as ubiquitous in Morocco as Coca Cola.
“Good, wasn’t it?” She sighs in contentment. “We should definitely come here again.”
“If we do, I’m not eating for a week beforehand,” I warn her.
The waiter arrives to offer us more tea.
“You know I’ve just realized something, Charlie,” says Rachel, tipping h
er head back to gaze at the millions of stars above us. “We’ve been working together for weeks, and I still don’t know the first thing about you. I don’t even know where you come from.”
“The accent kind of gives it away,” I murmur, watching the waiter disappear back inside the café again.
“That’s it? That’s all I get?” She starts laughing at me in disbelief.
“What else do you want to know?”
“Likes, dislikes, movie crushes! You’re so secretive. Is it a British thing?”
“Maybe.” I still won’t look at her. I hate talking about myself. “This country is so beautiful. I wish I could stay here forever.”
“Is this my first insight into the Charlie Winters mindset?” she says slyly.
Is it?
Do I really love this place, or is it the thousand-mile distance from all the bad memories that makes it so special?
I can’t deny it—there’s a richness to this country that stupefies my senses almost as much as Jake does. Tonight, the setting sun has woven a spectacular web of gold around each building. A couple of old men are setting up a mini souk opposite. They’re shouting out instructions at each other in a chaotic jumble of French and Arabic, which has garnered them the attention of most of the café’s patrons.
“Morocco’s okay, I suppose.” Rachel follows my gaze and frowns. “I still miss my pizza on speed dial, though.”
“Sadist!” I grin and clutch my stomach. “I must have put on at least a stone in the last hour. How did you find out about this café, anyway?”
“Max brought me here.”
I rock forward in surprise. “Oh?”
“Ages ago, on another shoot,” she says airily, answering my unspoken question.
“I had no idea that you and he had—?”
“We haven’t.” She tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear. It’s a self-conscious gesture. “I fell for the wrong brother, really.” She reaches out to take a cautious sip of her tea and winces at the heat. “Max is far too unattainable for the likes of me.”
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