by Helen Karol
Cover
Coveting Claire
By
Helen Karol
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2015 by Lily Publishing and Helen Karol
Cover Design by Rachel A Olson
www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ALLRIGHTSRESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, or than small extracts for review and promotion, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
Preface
When they reached his car, she turned to face him. She leaned against the solid metal for support, suddenly cautious of where they might be headed. In her confusion, she grasped at a safe way out. "I could always stay at a hotel if it's too much trouble."
He looked down at her and she heard him let out a long breath. He emanated a low passion – a passion she wasn’t sure she should attribute to annoyance or desire. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her swiftly so she was facing the car, her back to him. Unsure of his intentions, she gasped in shock when he applied a couple of swift, sharp swats to her backside. One to each vulnerable buttock. The short spanking was so close to her earlier thoughts, she clutched her rear in a mixture of indignation and hot desire.
Leaning the front of her body against the car for support, she wondered how he expected her to respond to his spanking of her. No doubt it was feminist etiquette to object haughtily, but her desire won out. Rubbing her bottom, she turned her head to look at him. To her mortification she was unable to keep the revealing, breathy huskiness out of her voice. “What was that for?”
Leaning in with his hand on the car roof, he seemed to tower over her. She felt his ragged breath hot on her neck. The disciplinary tone in his voice aroused her even more as he chided her in a sensual reprimand. “Hmm. Let’s see. Where should I start? How about not telling me you were arriving a day early when you have nowhere to stay. I might have been out of town.”
“Oh.” The sense in his observation made her blush.
“Not to mention insulting my hospitality.” He moved closer to her so she was only just aware of his hard arousal. She heard his low growl in her ear. “Move your hands.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Gulping, Claire dropped her hands obediently.
Crack. This time the smack was harder. Claire found herself whimpering a little as he punctuated each word of his reprimand with a hot blow of his palm to her heated flesh. “You…Smack…hate…Smack…hotels.” Smack. In contrast to the punishment, his next words were offered in a soothing, intimate tone that caressed her ear. “Don’t you. Claire?”
She emitted a little sob in agreement. “Yes”
“Alright, so no more foolishness about staying in one.”
Opening the car door, he helped her into the vehicle. Claire attempted to offer a dignified response, but could only summon up a petulant harrumphing sound mixed with a treacherous moan as she sunk into the leather of the car seat. She felt her pelvis clench and a warm glow pulse through her as contact with the supple seat caused the heat of his smacks to flow insidiously across her tender flesh.
As Julian entered on his side of the car, she rallied enough to throw him a quelling look. Tossing her head in a very feminine gesture, she told him saucily. “I’ll thank you to treat me with a little more respect. You might've known me since I was practically a teenager, but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like a kid. I am now a sophisticated, mature woman, in case you hadn't noticed."
Julian laughed richly. Why had she never noticed the sensual sound of his laughter before? He looked across at her deliberately, a smile flitting across his lips, an unmistakable inflection in his voice. "Oh, I noticed."
Chapter One
Claire nuzzled deeper into her lover’s hard, masculine chest. She was just drifting into sleep when she felt his touch on her shoulder. She shifted slightly onto her back murmuring sensuously, inviting him to explore further.
Instead, he seemed preoccupied with shaking her.
She murmured her protest, but he just kept shaking. Okay, his forcefulness in bed was usually pretty hot, but - hell - this was just annoying.
"Claire." He shook her harder. "Claire! The food’s coming round."
"What! Oh!" Claire sat up, suddenly aware of her surroundings.
Rather than the searing sapphire blue eyes of Richard, she looked dazedly into the thick glasses of her colleague, Aidan Carmichael. The expression on his face told her that she’d been far from discreet in her sleep and she cursed the previously unforeseen erotic depths her lover - correction - her ex-lover had unleashed in her.
"Sorry," she mumbled embarrassedly. Damn why couldn't she have been sitting next to a stranger? It would still be embarrassing, but not nearly as bad as looking at the pitying eyes of one of the firm's auditors who was well aware of the history of her past relationship.
"No worries, these seats are pretty comfy. Easy to get into a deep sleep in them."
Claire smiled gratefully at the agreeable guy she knew from a few work outings and a couple of mutual friends. When they found out they were both booked in Business Class on their flight to Los Angeles, it seemed rude not to sit together.
She accepted the tray handed to her, grateful that the process of eating occupied them both. This was one fallout from her break-up with Richard she didn’t expect. Although, it wasn’t surprising given the tempestuous nature of their relationship. It had been fireworks from start to finish. The finish still upset her. No matter how often she went over it in her head, she hated the way they parted. Maybe if she’d put things differently. Made some concessions? Her mind was still plagued by that last confrontation. It was the only way to describe it.
“I can’t believe it! You’re really taking the job? Running on home, playing it safe with the firm instead of moving in with me and taking a chance on our own magazine?”
“Richard, it’s not that simple. I’m not ruling it out. It’s just that it’s too much too soon. I need space. Time to think. This new job will give us that.”
“Us? It won’t give us anything. You take that job and they’ll be no us. I mean it Claire!”
So far, she’d every indication to believe he did mean it. Almost a week later and he hadn’t even texted her. He changed his photo assignments to other writers and he made no attempt to even say goodbye. Claire had spent the nights since in tears plagued with erotic dreams. It took all her willpower not to call him. She was too wary of being swayed if she saw him again. She had to stand by her decision not to give into emotional blackmail.
Aidan’s cheery tone broke into her reverie. “So L.A.’s the final stop for you. Another twelve hours for me."
"Yuck." Claire sympathized. "Where are you going, again?"
"Brazil. The firm is thinking of acquiring a radio station down there and wants me to check out the finances."
"Really - a radio station - makes sense. I'm so print centric, I forget the magazine is only a small part of the Choices Conglomerate.”
"Yeah! But the most profitable part. That's why they're branching out to Choices LA. Capitalizing on the brand."
"Mmm." Claire agreed.
"Looking forward to going home?"
Claire turned enthusiastically towards him, her embarrassment and misery temporarily forgotten in the prospect of home and her new future. "You know what? I am! I love New York but I miss L.A.
I miss my friends, my apartment, the ocean. I'm up for the new challenge. Just think - me - the senior writer at Choices LA.! 'Course, they’re only three of us altogether, but still."
"Ah, but you mustn't forget the frosty Stella. Now that’s a challenge I don't envy!"
"God, yes. But, still, she is pretty good at her job. She’s one of the best editors at Choices."
“Is someone meeting you at the airport?”
"No. I did have a friend coming to meet my original flight tomorrow, but I decided not to tell him so I can surprise him."
“Hope he likes surprises.”
Claire suddenly felt a bit apprehensive at Aidan’s tone. She hadn’t really thought about it clearly, just decided on the spur of the moment to take the earlier flight. After her call to Julian, the need to be back in L.A. with him, her best friend, had overwhelmed her. The sound of his voice just seemed to steady her and she was suddenly sure being with him would make everything right. Now it seemed faintly foolish. No. He always made her feel better. She was sure this time would be no exception.
“I’m sure he’ll just be glad to see me.” Claire wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, Aidan or herself.
The seat belt sign went on and neither spoke further, focusing instead on the process of landing and disembarking. Both seasoned business travelers, they only had hand luggage and were soon out in the arrivals terminal dodging the crowds.
Claire looked around for the cab exits. She wanted to try and catch Julian at the studio before he left for dinner. Grimacing at the paparazzi crushing around some unfortunate celebrity, she was doubly glad she’d decided to come a day early and surprise Julian. The media still pursued him from time to time because of Susanna. She was such a megastar and their union had so captured the public’s romantic imagination that even seven years after her death it was still of interest. Fighting a crowd was not the setting she envisioned for their reunion. She wanted him to herself.
"Right! Let's get you a cab."
With Aidan’s help she pushed her way through the crowded airport and clambered into the vehicle. Thanking him, she waved as he weaved his way back into the airport. After informing the driver of her Santa Monica destination, she leaned back gazing out into the fast dimming light.
***
A few miles away, in a Santa Monica office building, Julian West looked up from his sketches to gaze unseeingly into that same dimming light. Sighing, he passed a hand through his dark, unruly waves that even the most geometric of hairstyles failed to control. He leaned back and squinted at one of the drawings and then held it up to the overhead light. He tossed it down, shaking his head. It didn't look any better from either perspective. Pushing back his chair, he rose and began wandering aimlessly around the room. He caressed a few of the fabrics lying in bales on one of the worktables and circled the headless mannequin draped with one of his designs, pretending he was searching for a way to improve it.
Three years. Was it really that long?
He felt again the churning in his gut when, from the safe distance of his cell, he’d listened to her animated voice as she informed him excitedly that she’d be arriving March 31st.
Distance. From the first moment the knowledge of his growing love emerged, distance became his ally. But today was March 30th. Tomorrow the distance would close in on him and he was no longer sure if it was friend or foe. Tomorrow she would be here expecting to fall back into the intimacy and security of the close friendship they’d built over the years. Back to the easy camaraderie of shared meals, movie nights, walks on the beach. To slip back into the easy attendance of the galas, charity events and benefits that their mutual, undemanding escort made so easy.
To her, he was still the nice guy she could turn to for advice and comfort – the uncomplicated friend she could count on. Only he no longer felt that way. Not since before she left for New York, three years ago. For months, he’d fooled her, playing the platonic friend when in fact he wanted nothing more than to take her as his lover – and more, much more. But he couldn’t do that. He had to put his guard up, not let those emotions overtake him.
They’d kept in touch, emails, texts, a weekly Skype. As a fashion designer, he made trips to New York and they would have lunch together. Dinner if she wasn't seeing someone. Overall, her move to New York seemed to provide him with the distance he needed. He could manage how he felt when he saw her in the flesh just a few times a year and only had to deal with her digital presence the rest of the time.
A presence that far too often left him rattled, restless, rampant.
On the nights of their weekly Skype, he’d be mesmerized by the sight of her lips, the swell of her breasts, the cascade of her long, golden tresses as she absently shifted them from side to side while she animatedly shared her news. Sometimes he had to fake their conversation because he lost track of what she was saying as he imagined crushing her against him, taking her lush lips with his own, darting and invading with his tongue inside her sweet mouth and other sweet places.
Most weeks he just took a cold shower determined to stick to his decision not to cross the line of friendship. Not to venture into the minefield of love and depth of emotion that he knew his coveting of her could make so dangerous. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t go there again. But some nights… Some nights, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining her in his bed. He would slowly undress her, leaving her hair to the last, taking the pins out one by one. He could almost feel its silkiness falling around them both. See the golden waves spilling across his pillow. Hear her voice heavy with desire as his name flowed tremulously from her lips, swollen and throbbing with his kisses.
Those nights he held her in his embrace, her naked softness pliant and arching in his arms. Her full breasts crushed against his chest by his unyielding possession of her. The honey between her thighs dripping into his mouth and welcoming his entrance inside her. He even went so far as to imagine her sweet ass at his mercy. Fully available to the erotic cadence of his palm as it brought a beautiful blush to the vulnerable, pale flesh of her rounded buttocks.
Those nights he put away from him. Kept them separate from reality and the simple workings of the plan he’d so carefully designed.
Then things changed. Their contact lessened. The weekly calls dwindled until it was a couple of months since their last Skype. He struggled with missing her, telling himself it was for the best. Desperately trying not to give in to the jealous imaginings of who was keeping her too busy to keep in touch. When she called claiming to be the bearer of good news, he prepared himself for the inevitable.
Only it wasn't.
She wasn't calling to announce impending marriage. She was coming back to L.A. Choices was branching out and starting a local edition in Los Angeles. Tomorrow she’d be back, here. Here around him. Every day. Lost in his thoughts, he found himself back at the window, looking out into the darkness. Leaning against the glass, he propped it up with one shoulder in that pose that is so peculiarly and eternally masculine.
Chapter Two
The elevator carried Claire to the sixth floor. She walked quietly over to the partially opened door of the studio and looked in. Expecting to find him bent over sketches or intent on fabrics, she planned to sail in and announce herself with a loud flourish. She’d been anticipating his surprise and pleasure all the way from New York, but now, catching sight of him against the darkness of the window, something made her hesitate.
At first, she was unsure of the reason and then it dawned on her. He was standing in exactly the same manner as when she first saw him. It was another one of those gatherings her father delighted in having her attend with him. A regal affair in a massive ballroom with chandeliers and a sweeping staircase. Studded with various celebrities and flashbulbs popping, it was hard to focus on any one thing or any one person.
Until she saw him.
She noticed him at once as they entered the ballroom. He stood apart from the rest of the crowd against the window with the late even
ing sun streaming through the glass behind him. She found it difficult to take her eyes from him, drawn by the drama of his detachment. To her, a romantic eighteen-year-old, he seemed like a young Greek god dramatically aloof from the mortals who inhabited the rest of the room. Then an older, elegant, dark-haired woman moved towards him and he reached for her. Desperately. He drew her close with such poignant tenderness that Claire was forced to abandon her romantic fabrications and become intensely aware of his humanity. Later, during a visit to the restroom, she overheard the reason behind the touching scene she witnessed.
"Did you see them by the window? It's so sad. They're so happy together." Claire recognized the voice as belonging to the wife of one of her father's editor's. "Poor Susanna"
The second voice was also familiar as Andrea Saunders. "It's Julian I pity the most."
There was soft surprise in the other woman's voice. "Andrea, it's Susanna who's dying"
"That's just it. She'll die and he'll be left to mourn."
"Why this sudden concern for Julian? You've always disapproved of him."
"No, I disapproved of Susanna marrying him. A boy in his twenties and her in her forties." Despite the slight censure in her first words, a rich fondness entered her tone as she continued. "Unlike some others, I never thought he wanted her for her fame or money. It was always obvious to me that Julian adored her."
It suddenly dawned on Claire why the dark-haired woman was familiar. She was Susanna Ainsley - an A-list, highly popular and critically acclaimed film star and one of the power women of Hollywood.
There was a pause before Claire heard Andrea's voice again. "He's young and he cares for her so much, I'm not sure he'll be able to handle her death. Losing her will be hard for all of us close to her, but at least it’s not a shock. We knew this could happen." A silent sorrow seemed to hang in the air and then Claire heard Andrea's hushed tones. “She never told him, you know. He’d no idea up until now. No wonder he’s so stunned."
