by Maisey Yates
He pushed open the door to her bedroom and walked to the bed, bringing them both gently down onto the mattress, his body covering hers. She arched against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He reached around and unzipped her dress, tugging it down, baring her breasts. His eyes glittered in the dim light of the bedroom.
“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered. And I didn’t think that was possible. I thought for sure I must have imagined that you were this perfect.”
Her throat tightened, emotion building in her. Emotion she didn’t want to deal with. Not now. Not when she simply wanted to live in this glorious moment.
“I remember you being pretty perfect too,” she said, ignoring the persistent ache in chest. “You might want to refresh my memory.”
He pushed himself up with one arm and shrugged his jacket off, pulling his undone tie over his shoulders and casting it to the floor. She watched, every bit of her completely enthralled, as he unbuttoned his white dress shirt, revealing teasing glimpses of perfect, muscular chest and abs that had not come to him by accident.
He let the shirt fall from his body and started working at his belt. Her mouth went cotton-dry, her eyes fixed on him. She didn’t want to miss anything, not one second. This was her moment—their moment—and she was savoring it.
Ethan let his belt fall open and undid the fastening on his slacks, tugging his pants and underwear off in one fluid motion.
She rose up onto her knees, letting her dress fall around her body. She’d expected to feel nervous or unsure, but she didn’t, she knew just what she wanted. She moved forward and gripped his erection, the flesh hot and smooth, different than she’d imagined. When she squeezed him, his head fell back, a raw sound of satisfaction rushing from him.
She leaned in and flicked her tongue over the head of his shaft, a sharp sensation of desire and power racing through her when he reached out to grab her shoulder, like he needed something to brace himself against, as she had earlier.
“You want me,” she said, feeling a little bit shocked by the revelation. Not just that he wanted her in a vague, sexual sense, but that he wanted her in the way she wanted him. In that knees-buckling, body-shaking sort of way.
“More than my next breath,” he panted.
He moved back onto the bed, his hands moving over her curves as he bent her backward. She stretched out beneath him as he cupped her breast, his thumb skimming her nipple. He dipped his head and tasted her, pulling the hardened tip between his lips.
She arched, her hips lifting from the bed, and he took advantage, tugging her thong down her legs. She kicked it off the rest of the way, not feeling even a moment’s embarrassment over being naked with him. There was no room for embarrassment. There wasn’t room for anything other than the fierce need she felt to have more of him.
To feel the rush of orgasm with his body joined to hers. To give him the kind of pleasure he’d already given her.
He reached over to the side table and fumbled around for a moment before pulling out a condom. “Oh good,” he said. “I don’t have to fire anyone today.”
“Don’t tell me you knew this would happen.”
“No. But my suites are always supposed to be stocked with basic amenities.”
“You really are all about full service.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck, then nipped her lightly, immediately following it up with a pass of his tongue. “I told you I was all about service.” He moved his hand down in between her thighs, stroking her, heightening her arousal.
“I believe it,” she whispered.
“Ready?” He tore the condom packet open and rolled the protection onto his length quickly before moving back over her.
“I’ve been ready for a long time,” she said. She put her hands on his shoulders, held onto him as he pushed into her.
It didn’t hurt, not in the dramatic way it seemed to in some of the books she’d read. But she was thankful that he went slowly, that he gave her a chance to adjust to him, time to savor her first moments of full intimacy with him.
He flexed his hips and buried himself to the hilt, his muscles locking in place, his breath coming out in harsh, short bursts. “Are you all right?”
“Great,” she replied. “I’m great.”
He looked at her, and for a moment she saw darkness in his eyes, a sadness that stole the air from her lungs. She put her hand on his cheeks and kissed his lips.
“Please, Ethan,” she said.
His answer was the short thrust of his hips, a movement that sent a sharp burst of pleasure through her. He moved in her, building her desire, low and intense in her pelvis, deeper than the first time. Stronger, which she hadn’t even imagined possible.
She could feel his control slipping, as each movement became less measured, less controlled. All of that willpower he carried like a millstone around his neck seemed to fall away, leaving only the man, without his civility, without the trappings of modern society.
Now, in this moment, he was simply a man, and she was a woman—his woman. And she reveled in it, moving with him, against him. She felt she was drowning, not just in pleasure, in emotion. In the connection she felt with him. As if he was truly a part of her.
She felt whole, and she felt herself splintering into pieces at the same time, her orgasm rushing up, tangling with the tide of emotion that was crashing inside of her. Ethan stiffened above her, her name on his lips as he found his own release.
This time, it was her turn to hold him, his head resting on her chest, his breath cool on her sweat-slicked skin. Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t awkward. It made the air feel close, like it was holding them together. Keeping them cocooned, shielded from reality. At least for now.
She ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t think she could ever get enough—not just of the amazing things he made her feel, but of what it was like simply to have him in her arms. To be in his.
She didn’t know how long they lay there. But finally Ethan sat up. “I should go take care of some things.”
He got out of bed and went into the bathroom, returning a few moments later and sliding back in beside her. He pulled her to him, his arms encircling her.
“I don’t know if there’s any music that can capture this,” she said, moving her fingertips over his chest.
“If anyone could write it, you could,” he said. “You told me earlier that it wasn’t my business who you’ve slept with, and if you still feel that way, that’s fine. But I’m going to ask anyway.”
“I’ll save you the trouble. No lovers. None besides music. Isn’t that a dramatic way to put it?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Noelle.”
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It can be. We’ll stick to the deal. We can have this, whatever it is, and then … and then we’ll both walk away with what we want. That’s simple right?” Even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren’t true.
“Sounds good.” And she could tell by his answer he knew it too.
Ethan just held Noelle, not even tempted to slip out of the room and head back to his condo. In fact, that idea was the opposite of appealing. Strange, since he was usually ready to do a runner by this point.
But Noelle was different. And not in the way men said women were different when they just wanted to get into their knickers. Different in a real, profound way. And not just because she’d been a virgin.
He was her first lover. That … well, that meant something. At thirty he was well past the age where he expected to run across a virgin. He’d even avoided them in high school, mostly by choosing to have sex with older women. He’d never really fancied the idea of being a corruptor of innocents. His life was just too … raw. He’d never had true innocence himself.
It was impossible when the cupboards in his kitchen had more prescription pills than they did food. Impossible when he overheard loud fights and sex between his parents every other day. Im
possible when he simply felt invisible in his own home.
His upbringing had been privileged financially, but bankrupt in every other way.
But what had just happened between him and Noelle hadn’t seemed corrupt at all. Far from it. It had been the best sex of his life. And it had meant something. Had altered something in him.
He wasn’t sure if he liked that, but it was the truth.
It wouldn’t last. A fact that made his chest feel like it was filled with tiny shards of glass, evil and sharp, impossible to remove.
It couldn’t last. That was the one thing he was certain of. Because she would never be happy with him. His stomach suddenly felt too tight. It was very hard to breathe. It was a hard admission to make, but it was true.
He’d never managed to bring happiness to anyone in his life. There was no reason Noelle would be any different.
He would never be able to make her happy, not in the long term. He would ruin her.
No. That wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t do that to her. They would have their affair, and they would both move on.
Even if there was a small, insidious part of himself that wished things could be different. They couldn’t be. And he would have to accept it.
CHAPTER TEN
NOELLE stretched, smiling when she felt a couple little aches in some very intimate places. Oh yes, Ethan had been amazing. Over and over again.
She had been well and truly introduced to sex.
Her smiled faded a little as she recognized a new ache, right around her heart. She was also being introduced to something else, something big and new. Emotions, a connection she’d never felt with anyone before.
She didn’t know what to call it. Or maybe she was too scared to call it anything.
Ethan saw her. More than that, he wanted to see her. Who she really was, not the veneer. No one, not her mother, not her piano teacher, not the flighty acquaintances who had sometimes called themselves her friends had ever bothered to do that.
“Good morning.” Ethan came into the bedroom holding a tray with coffee and muffins. He wasn’t wearing much more than a smile, his broad chest bare, powerful thighs on display. Only a very brief pair of briefs covered him. She wished he hadn’t put them on.
“You are every woman’s fantasy,” she smiled, sitting up.
“In my spare time.” He sat on the bed with her, raising a mug of hot coffee to his lips, his eyes trained on her. “You’re most definitely my fantasy.”
“I probably have makeup smeared down my face.”
“There’s a certain debauched charm in that look.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“You got a call.”
“I did?”
“Yes, Jacques D’ambois left a message on my phone for you.”
“The man that was at the engagement thing with Sylvie last night?”
“The same.”
She frowned and took a bite of chocolate muffin. “I wonder what he wants.”
“If he wants to seduce you, tell him he’s about twelve hours too late.” Ethan said it as a joke, but there was a hint of seriousness in his words.
“No worries there, Ethan. I’ll call him after breakfast. And I’ll be sure to let him know I’m no longer in need of seducing.”
“Now that the big engagement party is out of the way, we need to move on to the planning of the actual wedding.”
“Oh yes, that.” Her heart sank a little. Now it seemed … it seemed much more complicated, this whole wedding thing.
“Don’t look like that, Noelle. This,” he indicated the bed, “has to stay separate from the business arrangement we have. The wedding is still a business arrangement.”
“No, no, I know! I just … well, all right, it seems a bit more personal now, I can’t lie. But I get it, Ethan, I do. I don’t want a real marriage anyway.” Did she? She didn’t think she did. Marriage was …?.well, her mother had never been married to her father. And it seemed that to Ethan’s father, marriage vows had been merely a suggestion. A suggestion he hadn’t taken. What was the point of it?
“You don’t?”
“No. Not now. Maybe someday.”
“Marriage is a crock anyway.”
“You think so?”
“What is it, really, Noelle? So, we’re getting married. And what do we have to do to get married? Love each other? Make vows we’ll keep? No. We just have to sign a legal form. Marriage never made my parents happy. It gave them both a new kind of status, and that was the point for them. My mother was able to spend my father’s money, my father had a beautiful trophy wife who walked red carpets and had her name up in lights. Until she didn’t, of course. And then he cared a lot less for her. Which was when he started finding other women.”
“That’s … well, that’s bad.” Noelle looked down at her coffee. “Love is real though,” she said softly. “Isn’t it?” She wanted to believe it was. That maybe someday … She ignored the sudden, deep tightening in her stomach, a kind of grief at the thought of a future without Ethan.
Ethan stared at a point beyond her. “I think so. I think it’s pretty sadistic though, to be honest with you. I think my mother loves my father, still, in spite of all he’s done to her. I think my father loved your mother. Even though he was married to mine. When my mother stopped getting invited to Hollywood events, he stopped bothering to take her out in public. That was when he started going with Celine Birch. When he let the world know he didn’t care enough for my mother to even try and shield her from his affair.”
Ethan’s lips curled. “I remember there was this big premiere my mother was desperate to go to, and your mother got invited. The next day it was all over the tabloids how Celine and my father had been all over each other.”
“Oh. That’s awful.”
“There’s more. There’s a reason I can’t … there’s a reason I have to do this, Noelle.” He still didn’t look at her, his expression fixed, his dark eyes blank. “I came home from school that day, and, of course, all the kids had already seen the news. They were taunting me. And when I came home it was so quiet. The television wasn’t on, and she always had it on. I went to look for her. She was face down on the bathroom floor. I was fifteen, but I had learned some CPR in school. Thankfully the ambulance came quickly, because my skills weren’t really up to the task. It was the paramedics who found her pills. They were the ones who figured out she’d done it to herself.”
“Oh, Ethan …”
“That’s love, Noelle. That’s what it does. It’s one person trying and trying and never being able to be enough. I don’t want to be a part of it. And I sure as hell can’t let my father come out of it unscathed.”
Sickness weighed her down, enveloped her being. “I can’t believe they were both so selfish … I can’t believe …”
“It was a long time ago. And I’m not seeking any kind of sympathy. But now you understand why I feel the way I do, not just about love, but about my father getting his hands on Grey’s.”
“I understand.”
He was silent then and she knew he was done talking about his mother.
“So, the wedding, when is it?” she asked.
“I thought we might keep it low-key. Elope even. At this point, the scale of the wedding doesn’t matter. Only that there is one.”
“That’s … good.” A rush of relief flooded her. She didn’t want to do the white and the cathedral and the priest. Elvis and the Vegas strip would be much more appropriate. It would be easier. It wouldn’t be so likely to trick her raw emotions into thinking it was anything more than what it was.
“Great. I’ll see about arranging all the legalities.”
She blew out a breath. “And they say romance is dead.”
Ethan looked at her, his dark eyes blazing. “I’ll show you romance, Noelle. It’ll just be separate from this.”
He turned and walked out of the room and she couldn’t help but watch his butt, barely covered by skin-tight black briefs. He was so hot. And what they had
might not be the epitome of love and flowers but it made her feel alive.
More alive than she’d ever felt.
That had to count for something. That had to make it worth it. Whatever it was.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said into the empty room.
She could angst about Ethan later. For now, she would get dressed and give Jacques a call.
An audition. She had an audition.
Auditions are beneath her. She’s Noelle Birch.
Her mother’s words rang in her head. Words that seemed meaningless when she hadn’t had a job in forever. Auditions most certainly weren’t beneath her. That attitude, fuelled not by snobbery but by a genuine desire to avoid the public discovering that she was a falling star rather than a rising one, was what had kept her down for the past year.
She was over it now. Over just sitting around and letting life happen to her.
Ethan walked into the large sitting area of the penthouse. He was wearing black slacks and a white button-up shirt, open at the collar. His hair was wet from the shower. He looked delicious. And all she wanted to do was take that perfectly tailored outfit off of his body so she could taste all of his fresh clean skin.
“Busy this weekend?” he asked.
Not busy until next weekend. “This weekend? As in … tomorrow? No.” She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and tried to look casual. She didn’t want to tell him about the audition. It was too new. And what if she screwed it up? What if Jacques ended up not wanting her to play either?
“Good. We’re getting married.”
She snorted into the hot liquid and it sloshed over the side of the cup. “A little warning please.”
“I told you I was going to arrange it. I think after the engagement party it will be romantic if we simply elope, don’t you?”
“You mean less of a hassle for us?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean, but I’m spinning the headline.”
“Right.”
“We just have to get through this part, Noelle. A few weeks of marriage, a few signed papers. And then you’re free. I’m free. We’ll both have what we want.”
Money. The audition. A chance at starting over, at grasping the fame she used to have. The luxury. She’d thought she’d find that with Ethan, and she had.
