by Megan Hart
“Oh.” Georgie leaned forward a bit to look at the girl. The movement brought her face very close to his when she turned to look at him. “Well, that’s just silly. Anyone who took the time to listen to it would know you lifted it from Shakespeare.”
And that was it, there it was. She knew about “Her Eyes.” Julian was lost.
8
“Do you like Shakespeare then?” Julian leaned forward to talk to her, exhibiting a classic sign of male interest.
Georgie, inspired in part by the song Julian had written, had done her Master’s thesis on Shakespeare’s sonnets and their influence on modern poets, of whom she considered Julian one. Now didn’t seem the time to mention it.
“You could say that,” she answered.
This close he looked even better than he had from eight feet away on stage. She could see the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and the faint smudge of eyeliner. The way the purple tint in his hair faded to white blond so gradually, going from plum to violet to pale lavender…
“Lots of people could say it,” Julian told her. “Not everyone means it.”
“I think we’re told we ought to like Shakespeare,” Georgie told him. “But to tell you the truth, I prefer Oscar Wilde.”
Julian blinked, and Georgie cursed herself for letting intellect overrule libido, however momentarily. Maybe this whole idea had been a mistake. Then, in the next moment, Julian leaned forward again.
“Shakespeare gives me a bit of a headache sometimes,” he told her, as though imparting a great secret. “But he did know how to write a smashing good love poem.”
God, he smelled good. A cologne she couldn’t name, underlaid by the scent of soap and water. She’d expected the tang of sweat, but though he definitely smelled male, he didn’t reek. Pheromones, she told herself, shifting slightly in the chair as her body reacted. He smells like sex.
“Is it starting to hurt?” Julian looked concerned.
Her ankle. She hadn’t really twisted it, just taken advantage of the fortuitous collision to feign a reason for him to help her.
She stood as though to test it. Julian stood, too. She didn’t have to crane her neck to look into his face, something she appreciated. Being with Joe, who’d topped six feet, had always left her with a crick in her neck and shoulders. She liked being able to look Julian in the eye, or nearly so. He had gorgeous eyes. Gray-blue, and darker than she’d expected.
A grin spread across his face like syrup on pancakes. “Do you want to get something to eat?”
Georgie looked over at the buffet, which was groaning under the weight of platters and trays of goodies she’d been denying herself for months. “Hell, yeah.”
If her enthusiasm seemed at odds with the sophisticated aura she was intent on projecting, Julian didn’t notice. He took her by the elbow, fingertips barely touching her but sending electric sparks of sensation through her just the same. She studied the buffet as though it were far more interesting to her than he was, even though her heart had begun to thump-thump so hard in her chest she was certain he could hear it. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin everything by turning into some sort of gibbering, drooling fan-girl, even if that’s what she felt like inside.
He’d said something else, something that clearly required an answer, but so intent was she on memorizing every piece of glitter on his skin, she’d missed it.
“I asked if you liked brie,” Julian repeated, as if he were used to dealing with gabbling fan-girls every day.
And, Georgie realized, he probably was.
She didn’t know why that thought moved her to straighten her back all at once, except for one thing. She hadn’t spent six months working to become a sexpot to throw it all away by being just another stuttering moron. She was a goddess, a sex kitten, a sophisticate. A self-confident and assured vixen with perfect hair and kick-ass shoes.
“I do.” Her smooth tone came out just the right way.
Before she could, Julian grabbed up a plate for her and layered it with a slice of gooey brie oozing from its baked crust and several cream puffs covered in chocolate. He took a plate for himself, added some food and gestured toward the door to the hallway.
“Let’s go where it’s quieter, yeah?”
She followed him into hallway, which was not only quieter, but cooler. Julian held out her plate, and she imagined she saw challenge in his eyes. Georgie took the plate and lifted a cream puff with her fingers.
“Girl after my own heart,” he said. “No forks. Eating chocolate. I think I’m half in love with you already.”
“That’s a nice line.” Georgie held up the cream puff and tucked it between her lips. Taste exploded on her tongue and she let out a breathy moan in reflex.
Julian’s eyes gleamed again. “I might want to take your shoes out on a date, love…but tell me, what is it exactly that cream puff is doing to you?”
Georgie laughed and licked the chocolate from her lips. It really was a dance, she thought. And for once, a dance to which she knew all the steps.
“Want to try it out?” She offered the cream puff.
Julian eyed it speculatively, looking at the small pastry, then into her eyes. “Sure.”
This was it, another test of her ability to convince him and herself she was some sort of sex diva. As Julian leaned forward to take the cream puff from her fingers, Georgie drew in a long, slow breath. His lips closed over the dessert, and his tongue rasped on the pads of her fingers. Sweet fire shot straight between her thighs, and the breath she’d been holding let itself out with a small hiss of pleasure.
Julian took her wrist to hold her hand steady, while he lipped the last of the cream from her fingertips. When it was gone, he pressed a brief, moist kiss to her palm, then closed her fingers around the heat it left behind, never looking away from her eyes. She saw an invitation there, and nearly laughed out loud at how easy it had been.
“I have a suite at the hotel across the street,” he said.
“Do you?” Her voice, thank God, wasn’t as shaky as her thighs.
He nodded, not letting go of her wrist. “I do. It has a big bathtub.”
“Are you implying I’m dirty?” Georgie murmured with a tilt of her head. The smile came naturally this time, so lost in the role in which she’d cast herself, she no longer had to struggle for it.
Julian lifted a brow. “Why? Are you?”
Georgie moved close enough to feel his breath upon her face. Her hand twisted in his grasp, and thus joined, she felt the beat of his heart in his wrist beneath her fingertips. It skipped erratically when she leaned in to brush her lips against his ear.
“I guess that depends on your standards.”
He turned his head the barest inch to murmur into her ear. “And if I said I wasn’t sure, but a man could hope?”
She breathed in his scent again, soap and something spicy and fully male. The fringes of his plum-tinged hair tickled her face. Heat from his body swept over hers, and her nipples peaked, while her clit began to thump-thump with her pulse.
“Something tells me you’re the sort of man who’s used to getting lucky.” Amusement and arousal blended her voice into a husky tone, something rich, like caramel. Almost as thick and dark as his.
“I don’t kiss and tell.” He inched closer, the two of them to any outside eye merely sharing secrets.
Georgie pulled slightly away to look into his eyes. She memorized the eyelashes, dark and thick beneath the mascara, the smudge of dark liner, the deep gray of his irises and the dark, black pools of his pupils.
“Do you intend to kiss me?” She breathed the question, her mouth close enough for him to take if he wanted it.
“I do. Anyplace you’ll let me.” The hand not holding hers slid around to her hip, pulling her the last inch against him.
She gasped a bit at the full-body contact. Her clit throbbed, the lacy scrap of her panties rubbing without mercy. Julian’s hand slid down to cup her ass and bring her closer against the bulge i
n his pants.
“So what are you waiting for?” Georgie asked.
Her body was prepared for Julian’s kiss, but her mind was not. His mouth closed on hers, nudging open her lips. His tongue ran along her lower lip. She gasped at the tickle and he slid his tongue inside, stroking. It would have been a fantastic first kiss, even if she hadn’t been primed and ready for him by years of imaginary foreplay, and even though Georgie had thought she’d be overwhelmed with thoughts of, I’m kissing Julian Manchester, the reality was she was too consumed with the taste of him to do more than briefly remember she was now making out in a dark hallway with a man whose face had once been hung inside her locker at school.
Somewhere along the way he’d stopped being Julian Manchester, Blue Silver keyboard player, and had become simply Julian, the hot guy flirting with her. Somehow, she’d ceased to play the role she’d studied for so many months. Instead, she’d become it.
Julian broke the kiss and pulled away just enough to look into her eyes again. He swiped a tongue across his lips. “Gorgeous. Cream puffs and red wine and brie. A heady combination.”
Georgie laughed. “Mmm. Are you sure you’re not tasting garlic?”
Julian made an inquisitive face. “Hold on…let me be sure.”
He bent to kiss her again, even more thoroughly than he had the first time. She opened for his kiss. Their tongues tangled and twisted. He nibbled her mouth, tasting it and sucking in the breath she let out.
“No garlic,” he said against her mouth. “Just delicious Georgiana.”
She shivered at the way he said her name. Julian pressed against her for another kiss. He took her hand and put it on his ass, pressing his crotch against her belly. Georgia gave a little moan, and the next moment, he slid his hand from her hip to cup her breast. His thumb slid over the peak of her nipple, taut and straining through the silk of her blouse, and Julian let out a sigh and buried his face in her shoulder.
“You smell so good,” he muttered. He pulled away to look at her. “Come to my suite with me.”
If she did, would she regret it? Or more likely, would she regret it if she didn’t?
“We’ll have to get out of here without being seen,” she said.
Julian smiled, and any doubts she had vanished. “This way.”
The party was still in full swing when they pushed their way through the crowd, Julian holding her hand as naturally as if they’d been together years. He nodded and waved at people, but didn’t stop, and Georgie admired the skill with which he wove them through the crowd and past the small knot of local reporters taking advantage of the free booze.
“Look away when I say three,” he said under his breath. “One. Two. Three.”
She did, and a moment later a flashbulb lit the back of her head. She heard an exclamation and Julian chuckled.
“You’re a natural.”
It took only a few minutes to cross the bridge to the hotel, where more photographers waited. She hadn’t thought of this aspect, the paparazzi. “How do you stand it?”
Julian ducked them both into the small alcove of the elevators and pulled her close to him for a kiss just before the doors opened and he tugged her inside. “I live for it, don’t you know that?”
The elevator started with a small jerk that pressed her close to him again. “That’s right. You’re a media darling.”
He laughed, both hands on her rear. “They’re kinder to you if you give them what they want more than you don’t. They’ll have a lovely full smile from me and my mystery woman, unnamed, whose beautiful face sadly was turned away. If you’d rather be dissected in the tabloids,” Julian said, dipping his head to nibble her jaw, “we can go back down and pose for a few pictures.”
The elevator doors slid open onto a quiet, plush-carpeted hall. Decorative sconces gave off a faint glow, illuminating the heavy dark wood doors and gleaming brass suite numbers. Julian took her hand, leading her out and toward a room at the end of the hall.
“Me,” he continued, “I’d rather have a bit of mystery about who you are.”
“Would you?” she asked as he slid his card key into the door and swung it open.
Julian led her inside, pushing the door closed and shrugging out of his jacket, which he tossed onto a nearby chair. He pulled her into his arms for another kiss before she had time to even look around. “Definitely.”
Damn, with him kissing her like that, Georgie couldn’t really think about whether she ought to be offended or flattered.
“Why—” His kisses stopped her words.
“Because I don’t want to share you with the world just yet.” Julian’s mouth moved from her mouth to her jaw and down to her throat.
That sounded like a line to her, but she let it pass, determined to enjoy the moment. She wasn’t here to marry the guy, just to shag him silly. She gasped when his hands came up to cup her breast and his mouth pressed her cleavage.
“I did say anyplace you’d let me,” Julian reminded, his grin so cheeky she had to laugh.
“I plan to take you up on that.”
He lifted a brow again and glanced toward the half-open door just beyond the sumptuously decorated living area. “In that case, shall we test out the tub I was telling you about?”
Oh, he was a player, wasn’t he? A clever way of cleaning them both of the smell of sweat and smoke, perhaps, or maybe just a blatant excuse for them to get naked? Georgie decided she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to play spin the bottle. She was here to fuck, plain and simple, as many times and in as many positions as she could manage before the night was over.
“Well?” Julian smiled again, rubbing his hands up and down her sides.
It was amazing how easy it had become to cast her inhibitions aside with something as simple as a pair of kick-ass pumps and a tube of crimson lipstick.
“Lead the way.”
He did, taking her through a bedroom with a bed so big it looked like it could sleep four easily, and into a bathroom that made her gape.
“Oh. Wow. This is nice.”
He seemed pleased at her frank appreciation. Still holding her hand, Julian went to the edge of the large sunken garden tub and gestured. “Big enough for two.”
Georgie looked around, then gave a delighted squeal at the shower. “Ooh!”
Letting go of his hand, she stepped into the curving tile shower. Inside the curve it had a huge sunflower shower head, multiple jets and dials, and a curving tile bench along the wall. “I am in shower heaven!”
Julian leaned against the shower’s edge, arms crossed, grinning. “Feel free to try it out.”
“Oh, no doubt.” Georgie grinned and ran a hand along the decorative sun and moon design. “This is an eyegasm.”
Oops. Out had slipped a Georgie-ism, her façade of calculated sexual sophistication cracking for a moment. To hide her embarrassment, she picked up and pretended to study the bottles of shampoo. When she looked up, Julian was staring speculatively, the light of interest in his eyes gleaming even brighter.
“Eyegasm,” he murmured. “I like that.”
That small affirmation clinched it for her. She was going to fuck the breath out of Julian Manchester, give him mouth-to-mouth to revive him, and do it again.
“Come here,” she said, her voice gone so low and sultry it sent a shiver down her spine.
In three slow steps, Julian stood in front of her. Georgie reached for his wrist, touched his pulse beating there, then slid her hand up his arm, his shoulder, to cup the back of his neck. She tugged him closer, the final step that brought his body flush to hers.
His breath had quickened. So had hers. His hand came up to rest on her hip, those long fingers tightening slightly. His lips parted as his eyes traveled over her face, and she wondered what he was thinking.
It didn’t matter.
Georgie tilted her head and pulled his mouth to hers, inch by indescribable inch, until she felt the brush of his breath on her mouth. Yet he didn’t move forward to kiss her, and she
smiled, pleased he was letting her take control.
Out slid her tongue to trace the full bottom lip she’d fantasized about for so long. He tasted of chocolate. He put his other hand on her other hip.
Georgie kissed Julian slowly, savoring every second of the contact. She pushed her tongue inside his mouth, tasting him further. She caught his moan with her mouth, and the sound of it made her break the kiss, though she pulled away only far enough to take a breath.
“Put your hands on me,” she told him.
The next kiss was harder. Faster. Julian slid his hands up to her breasts, cupping them through the soft silk of her blouse and the lace of her bra. Her nipples, already tight with desire, throbbed as he passed his thumbs over them, and it was her turn to moan.
“That noise is so fucking sexy,” Julian said against her mouth.
Georgie stepped back, toward the bathroom counter, and he moved with her as easily as if they’d choreographed the action. “I believe in positive reinforcement.”
Her ass hit the edge of the counter and she pulled him down for another kiss that left them both gasping.
“Touch me,” she ordered, and Julian seemed all too happy to oblige.
Her mouth opened beneath his as he slid a hand beneath her skirt, pushing it up and spreading her legs so he could move between them. He kissed her, hard, both their tongues thrusting, then tipped her head back with a nudge from his mouth and kissed her throat. Wet heat bloomed on her skin as his tongue followed the path his teeth and lips left, and Georgie moaned again.
Julian muttered something against her skin. His hand traced the top of one stocking, then the inside of her thigh, on skin so sensitive his touch made her pussy clench in response. His other hand had buried itself in her hair, and Georgie leaned back a little, supported by his hand on the back of her head.
When his palm shifted to cover her cunt, she moaned again, louder this time, and tilted her hips into his touch. Only a sheer triangle of fabric, already damp with the evidence of her arousal, kept her skin from his. Julian’s finger stroked along folds outlined in silk and lace. She bit her lip at the tickle of his touch.
