“I get that.”
They grew quiet for a bit. Pressed up against her, Brian’s nose relished all the feminine scents that made Sophie unique—the way her hair smelled like apples, the vanilla scent of her skin—and the softness of her hair pressed up against his nose made it hard for Brian to resist thinking about her in anything but a sexual way.
So maybe he wasn’t going to deny himself.
“I’m thinking about taking a bath. Would you care to join me?”
Sophie was quiet for far too long, making Brian figured he’d overstepped. You just couldn’t be happy with the way things had progressed. You just had to push it, didn’t you, asshole?
But then she surprised him. “Yes, I think that might be nice.” After she sat up, Brian followed suit, and he got the urge to rub her shoulders. He loved feeling her skin underneath his hands. After just a few seconds of attention on her upper back, she let out a soft moan, one that was hard to hear, but it told him something very important. Underneath it all, she was human—just like the best of them, she responded to touch. So maybe this was a good thing. Maybe eventually he would get to meet the real Sophie. For now, though, he’d be happy with what little she’d shared with him. He got off the bed, extending his hand to her. With a shy look and a soft smile on her face, she took his hand and stood, and together they walked to the bathroom.
Once they got there, he took the bathmat off the side of the tub, throwing it on the floor before turning on the water to warm it up. As he held his hand under the water to test for the temperature, she said, “Damn. I see you got a nicer bathtub than I did, too.”
He started laughing. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought of becoming a rock star.” Then, standing, he turned his head to look at her. “The question now is do you want me to take your clothes off or do you want to take care of them?”
Unfortunately, there was no reading this woman—and her voice had its usual cool edge. “It looks like you have plenty of your own clothes to worry about, Mr. Zimmer. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Message received, fair lady.” Before he took his eyes off her, he caught her arching an eyebrow in irritation—just the way he liked it. He was getting pretty good at figuring out her triggers. Then, focusing on himself, he sat on the edge of the tub, first removing his socks. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but steal another peek at Sophie as she gingerly peeled off her black miniskirt. Like Pavlov’s dog, Brian’s mouth started salivating, already associating this beautiful creature with every fantasy he’d ever had. Eyes down, Zimmer.
It was hard, though, because he found every inch of her to be delectable. As he stood, he removed his jeans, sneaking another glance of her body, and he realized immediately that his concern over the past couple of days about her not eating was probably unfounded. She didn’t look scrawny, and she definitely didn’t have the appearance of being malnourished. In fact, she looked stunning. Beautiful.
Sexy as hell.
He shifted his eyes back to himself, glad she’d been distracted enough by her own actions to not catch his gaze. But he understood, as he checked the water again, why she was a model. The woman was beautiful from head to toe—not just a pretty face, but stunning from the hair on her crown to her toenails. The tub was now half-full of water and Brian ran his hand through it, trying not to worry if she was checking out his naked body behind him. He had nothing to be ashamed of and he was proud of his body, but he didn’t want to have to think about her looking at him…even though he’d just been doing the same to her.
And then it dawned on him. As a model, she had eyes on her all the time. How did that make her feel?
“I guess I’m ready,” she said.
Nodding, he turned, forcing himself to make eye contact—but, oh, what he could see through his peripheral vision. What a sight. “How about I get in first?”
“That would probably work best.”
“Glad you agree.”
He couldn’t tell what she thought of him now that he was in full view. Most of his upper body was painted in tattoos and he knew that was a turn off to a lot of people—but why the hell was he so damned concerned about what Sophie thought? It wasn’t like he could change her opinion, and he remembered her seeming shocked when she’d seen them all. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, not that he’d want to. Getting in the tub then, he sat down, waiting for her.
But she, too, seemed a little wary—and probably with good reason. After all, they hadn’t officially called a truce. As near as he knew, she still considered him to be her mortal enemy. Gingerly, she stuck a toe in the water before plunging her foot in completely, followed by the other. Then she lowered herself between his legs, holding her hands on the side of the tub as she sat down.
Jesus Christ, this woman was tight. Her tiny ass was cute and delectable, and he had to force himself not only to keep his hands on his own legs but also to keep his cock from stiffening again. As she settled in, he denied himself the opportunity of running his tongue along the creamy white skin of her back, of touching every ridge of her spine with his fingers, his tongue, his lips. Damn, when did this happen? He was falling for her hard and what made it worse was that they were at an unsure point in their relationship. If he were to make another move now, how would she respond?
He decided that, for now, he was going to allow himself to be happy with just this moment. This point in time was all they had, and he was going to try to enjoy it for what it was—because, like it or not, this might be the only time they would share.
At first, she seemed nervous about the bath. He could sense her apprehension, but after a little bit, she relaxed against him, leaning back and allowing her head to rest against his chest. Once more, he couldn’t help but take in the scent of her hair, her scented skin, and it made him want her all over again.
No. This time now was for her, not his depthless desire. He didn’t want to fuck her like he had earlier. This woman deserved to be made love to, to be cherished and held closely. She needed to know that she was precious and perfect, and the way they’d fucked earlier with half their clothes on like uncontrollable beasts wouldn’t necessarily make her feel cherished.
So, for a long time, he kept his arms on the sides of the tub as her body continued to relax against his, her muscles softening, and he closed his eyes, breathing her in. After a while, as the water grew tepid, his desire started to consume his every thought. This time, though, he was focused on her, a desire to make her feel loved. Bringing his lips to her neck ever so slowly, he began kissing softly, gently at first. When she didn’t resist, he then lowered his arms first to his legs and then to hers, where her dainty hands rested. She still didn’t fight him as his fingers brushed the top of her knee. In fact, she seemed downright comfortable with his every move.
Then he decided he was going in for the kill.
Sliding his right hand up her inner thigh, he licked her earlobe—and when she let out a soft sigh and even leaned her head the other way a tiny bit, giving him more access to her ear and neck—he knew she was game. His plucking hand slowly felt its way up her thigh, those fingers of his perhaps more adept for the job he was about to embark upon than the left, his fretting hand.
He doubted she would’ve been able to tell the difference.
As he closed in on her pussy, he felt her back stiffen—but she wasn’t pushing him away. Her thigh muscles seemed to tighten as he moved closer to her womanhood, but she wasn’t telling him to stop.
He let his fingers inch even closer to the spot that would bring her to ecstasy. While sliding his index finger down toward that area inside her folds, he swirled for a moment, brushing a large swath while searching for the exact right spot. When he felt the hard little nub, he zeroed in on it, focused solely on it, and it seemed to throb in response to his soft strokes. He continued kissing her neck as well, assaulting her on more than one front. When he wasn’t sure if it was working, he stopped moving his finger upward for just a m
oment. Returning this time with more pressure, he tried to gauge her response—and when she made a barely audible noise, he knew what he was doing was perfect. Suddenly, her breathing deepened and her thigh muscles stiffened, so he kept going, continuing to swirl his finger, exerting soft pressure against that nub until her thighs started to quiver and she began making soft uncontrollable sounds.
Brian, too, was unable to help himself. “That’s it, baby.” She was either ignoring him or giving in, because she seemed to collapse against him, completely giving in to the pleasure she was experiencing. She pressed her thighs together and ground against his finger, shoving her hands in his hair until she wore herself out.
Then, she rested her head against his shoulder. After some time, her breathing slowed—and she nuzzled up against him as a lover would—and Brian knew he’d just scored major points here. Maybe now they could move past their distrust and anger.
If nothing else, at least he knew one part of her loved him—and that one part she had little control over. Brian’s job now would be to win her entire heart. But that job would be saved for another day.
Chapter Sixteen
When Sophie awoke, she was lying on her back, breathing with her mouth open. As she became aware of her surroundings, she realized her head was pounding. But that wasn’t all. Her mouth was dry, her stomach queasy, and, oh. There was something else.
Shit. She was still in Brian’s room.
She wasn’t sure she should feel shame or exhilaration about what had happened last night—but, right now, she felt too physically off-balance to worry about her emotional state.
It was still dark in the room, but it felt like morning. She sat up, sliding her legs so they hung from the edge of the bed while pressing her fingers against her temples as if that would stop her head from pounding. She wasn’t sure what was worse: the nausea or the pain. But, after a few moments, she decided to get up because she realized she was really thirsty. Fortunately, the bathroom light was still on, so she could see throughout the darkened room. Grabbing her phone out of her purse near the front door, she headed into the bathroom.
First, she grabbed one the glasses on the counter, pouring herself a little bit of cool water and taking a sip before sitting down on the toilet. Then she had so many questions.
How had she wound up in this fluffy white robe? Why hadn’t she gone back to her room last night before falling asleep? Why had she given in to her desire?
But this was bad. She couldn’t even remember getting out of the tub. Had she not remembered everything before that, she might have suspected Brian of drugging her—but that wasn’t it.
It was simply that she’d just had far too much to drink last night, more than she usually allowed herself. Add to it, she’d worn herself out completely—not just physically but emotionally. As she tried to put all the pieces together, she had to make some guesses. She was pretty sure Brian had helped her out of the tub and dried her off, putting her in a robe, and then carried her to the bed where he lay her down next to him. Add to it, he’d been restrained enough to not drape himself over her like a cheap suit while they slept. He’d been a gentleman, keeping his distance.
Or at least that was what she imagined. She had no actual memory of it—but that was what another part of her brain was telling her.
Glancing at her phone, she saw that she had several text notifications—all from her agent. The last one simply said, What is going on, Sophie? Please let me know you’re okay.
What the hell?
She opened up her messages and, after scrolling through all of the ones from her agent, she figured out what had happened: the paparazzi had gone crazy last night and lots of celebrity blogs online were speculating that she and Brian were now a thing.
Oh, hell, no.
But she also knew that would make her more in demand than ever—so she wasn’t sure what to do next.
First things first, though—she had to get over this nausea.
* * *
Brian woke up to the sound of the bathroom door slamming, but he was pretty sure his subconscious had registered Sophie’s absence long before that. He couldn’t even begin to imagine why she’d rushed out of the room, but his brain was coming up with all sorts of theories…mostly bad.
Speculation wasn’t a good thing, though, so he forced himself to sit up, stretching his neck before glancing at the clock on the nightstand. Well, a few minutes before eight wasn’t bad, considering his flight was at one-thirty. He wasn’t sure when she had to leave, but maybe it was time to get up, whether he wanted to or not.
After a few seconds, Brian thought he heard Sophie’s voice coming from the bathroom. She sounded upset, but he couldn’t understand the words she was saying. So he got out of bed and approached the bathroom door. From there, he could definitely hear her talking, although he couldn’t make out actual words. Was she talking to herself or was she on the phone? Because she sounded distressed, he tapped lightly on the door. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
All right. It seemed like Sophie was back to her usual porcupine self, and he thought some of recommending she knock back a drink more often—not that he wanted her forming a bad habit, but the woman was far too uptight and snappy for his taste.
Brian stepped away from the door, not wanting to listen in on any actual conversation she might be having. As he grabbed a fresh t-shirt from the suitcase in the closet, he wondered what had her feeling high strung. But of course. How stupid. He knew what it had to be. In the light of day, she was horrified that they’d spent the night together. Sure, it was speculation and there would be no way of knowing for certain until she came out—but fuck. Maybe this was why he was still single. He didn’t mind emotions, but he fucking hated drama.
After he threw on his jeans, he picked up his phone and immediately regretted it. What the hell? His phone had exploded like a hand grenade while he’d been sleeping, starting earlier that morning. There were a couple of text from the guys, but there was one from Mark that stuck out like a sore thumb. He’d said simply one thing: Call me. Well, he would, but the man was going to have to wait until Brian had some coffee in his system.
Unfortunately, that meant he was going to need the bathroom for a few minutes, and Crazy Town was in there melting down. So he walked over to the other side of the room and pulled the drapes aside and then opened the sliding glass door. Once he stepped out onto the balcony, he took a deep breath of air and scanned the landscape. He knew they were a mile or two away from the ocean, but he imagined he could smell it in the air.
It was probably just humidity.
Finally, Sophie came out of the bathroom, but the only reason why he knew was because he’d been looking for her. Frantic, she was picking up pieces of her clothing as she scurried around the room. Brian came inside and asked, “Are you okay?” He wasn’t sure that he would like the answer, but he had to know.
“Define okay.”
Any other day, Brian might have laughed. “If I have to define it, that tells me everything I need to know. What’s wrong?”
Rather than saying anything, Sophie held up her cell phone. It took Brian a few seconds to fully register what he was looking at: a picture of the two of them leaving the nightclub last night, Sophie covering her head, Brian’s hand around hers, trying to usher her through the crowd. Then his eyes moved to the headline: FEUDING COUPLE CAUGHT DIRTY DANCING? The subtitle promised exclusive tidbits.
Jesus Christ.
“I’m sorry, Soph—”
Snatching back her phone, she said, “You don’t need to be sorry.” Then, without another word, she darted back in the bathroom.
Fuck. He walked closer to the door again. “I’m gonna need in there in a minute.”
“I’m just getting dressed and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
She was avoiding it all, big time, and Brian didn’t know that he wanted to deal. When his phone rang, he decided to answer it and get all the
shit over with. “Hey, Mark. I just got up, man.”
“And you hadn’t called me yet. Must be nice, rock star.”
“I haven’t missed my flight. What the hell do you want so early in the morning?”
Mark’s laughter sounded so loud against Brian’s ear that he held the phone back. “Let’s just say that the press you and the model stirred up last night is good for business.”
“What?” Brian moved over to the bed and sat on the edge.
“You and Sophia Buckley. The media is speculating that you two are now dating, and the online tabloids are eating it up. The views on your last YouTube audio single nearly doubled last night, and I haven’t checked with the studio, but I’d guess iTunes sales are up, too.”
“Wait. What?”
Mark continued talking, ignoring Brian. “It’ll burst their bubble when they find out she was just here shooting a video with the band, but—”
“Uh, no, Mark. We did go out dancing last night and we had photographers chasing our cab.”
“Brilliant. I have to say that little trick did more for the band than any of the publicity we pay for.”
“Publicity? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” When the bathroom door opened, Brian said, “That’s great. Gotta go.” He could hear Mark’s voice continuing to talk as he pressed the red phone icon to end the call. Sophie, now fully dressed in the clothing she’d worn last night, stepped all the way into the room. Hoping he appeared as casual as possible, Brian said, “I’m gonna go out for coffee in a minute. You wanna come with?”
She eyed him cautiously for a moment, as if he were a jaguar getting ready to rip into her flesh if she didn’t scurry off—but then she said, “Um, sure. I just need to clean up a bit. Text me when you’re ready.”
Slow Burn (Feverish #4) Page 13
