Keeping Her Up All Night

by Anna Cleary

  ‘Aha,’ he said, taking her foot in his big, warm hands.

  It felt so pleasant, having her foot held. Comforting, even.

  ‘There’s magic in this pretty foot.’

  He undressed the other foot, then kissed her toes and kneaded her soles with his thumbs. Guy’s touch was far more exciting than the physio’s at the ballet company. Her very soles felt aroused.

  But what he did with the backs of her knees was pure devilry.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she cried at the sensations tingling up her leg. ‘There. There.’

  Breaking from her, he bent down to where his clothes lay on the floor and searched. Then he sat on the side of the bed and sheathed himself.

  Leaning up on an elbow to watch the operation, she observed with a smile. ‘Well, well. I see you came prepared. In spite of your misgivings.’

  He cast her a gleaming glance. ‘And aren’t you glad I’m an ever hopeful, upbeat kinda guy, even against all odds?’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad, all right. I’m celebrating.’ She giggled and kicked her legs high.

  She was feeling so deliciously high and aroused, it occurred to her that what she was experiencing right here and now was happiness. Guy Wilder was sorry, still gorgeous, and here they both were. Against all the odds.

  He stretched out beside her and took her in his arms. Then he kissed her lips. When he drew back, his eyes were warm and tender. ‘You’re making me feel so good I want to do something for you.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ She was suddenly breathless. ‘What sort of thing?’ Though she might be studying him cagily, the truth was she was eager. Wildly eager.

  His eyes brimmed with amused comprehension and desire. ‘Roll over,’ he instructed, and when she complied he groaned with a conviction that was truly flattering, ‘Oh, this gorgeous peach of a behind. I’ve dreamed of this.’

  She was happy for him to enjoy her behind, or any other part that took his fancy. So when he started kissing the insides of her knees, and continued a fiery journey to the silky skin inside her thighs, divining where he might be headed, she co-operated with every move in a mounting ecstasy of hope and suspense.

  And she wasn’t disappointed. Soon his clever fingers were lighting tingling little fires as he stroked the highly aroused and sensitive skin of her bottom.

  And then, thank the Lord, they slipped between her legs to softly massage the burning folds of her feminine mound.

  ‘Ohh …’ She sighed in helpless bliss, lifting her hips a little to accommodate the fabulous friction.

  Time slowed. The temperature in the room skyrocketed. There was no sound but the rasp of their breathing, her moans, and her heart booming in her ears. Then softly, tenderly, Guy Wilder put his mouth between her legs and sucked. Creating the most intense and trembling rapture she could ever remember experiencing, he licked her sweetest, most intimate spot with his tongue.

  Streams of intense delight irradiated her flesh. Blissful sensations swelled inside her like the sun on a spring morn, building and building to an irresistible, ever-beckoning pinnacle, and then when they were too much to endure, bursting into a thousand glorious rays of pleasure.

  And that was only the beginning.

  Amber O’Neill was floating. It felt so fantastic to be made love to. To share passion with a lover who laughed one minute, then in the next moved her heart unutterably.

  ‘You’re the real thing, aren’t you?’ he said at one point.

  Bemused, she gazed at him. ‘The real … woman?’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, no worries there. No, I mean …’ His grin faded. ‘You’re a genuine ballerina. Do you do all the stuff? Swans and everything?’

  She nodded, trying not to grin at his enthusiasm. ‘Sugar plum fairies, princesses, firebirds—I do them all. Though swans are my specialty.’

  His voice thickened. ‘I’d love to see that.’

  She smiled, though she didn’t say what she thought. I doubt you ever will. Instead she said casually, ‘You can come to see me at the Spanish club doing flamenco some Saturday evening, if you like.’

  There were few long heartbeats. Then he said, ‘I would like.’

  And then there was that amazing moment when he entered her with one searing, virile thrust. He gazed down at her, his eyes fierce and at the same time so tender her heart shook.

  ‘I never thought I could have this again with another woman.’

  Questions sprang up in her mind, but were soon discarded as he took her higher than high, making love to her in every which way, bringing her to multiple orgasms, holding back on his own pleasure until at last, hot, hard and convincing, he reached his own shuddering climax.

  After that, she slept in his arms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘WE’LL need a few flowers. All right?’

  Guy swept in mid-morning, smiling and charged with plans, his eyes still warm from the night before. The several nights before. Up to thirteen now, by Amber’s counting. Nights of sampling the local eating houses, cooking in Amber’s kitchen, making out in the cinema, enjoying long and voluptuous lovemaking in Amber’s bed.

  Not that any evening ever started out that way. No definite plans were ever made. It always seemed just to happen that, whenever Amber was wondering if she would see Guy that night, by accident, and often in the most casual way, she’d bump into him somewhere. Then, before she knew it, things escalated and passion was the outcome.

  It was fun to speculate how ‘accidental’ those heavenly meetings were. The ones she didn’t engineer herself, that was. Though the L word hadn’t been used, some beautiful things had been said, and her fingers were perpetually crossed.

  This particular Tuesday morning she felt especially chirpy. Guy had phoned her soon after nine from his office. Something in his schedule had been delayed, he’d told her, so the crew had a timeslot to spare for Fleur Elise.

  At last. Amber had been beginning to wonder if it would ever happen.

  But today was all go, and she was bubbling with excitement. He was taking her to meet his team, and if they could come up with some satisfactory props, and the weather held, they might even start actual shooting. Outdoors, he told her they’d decided, as a cost-cutting measure. And, as another way to reduce costs, Guy seemed to think she could be the model for her own ad.

  She kept grinning, imagining herself on camera. It wouldn’t be the same as being on stage, of course, but shooting with Guy would be better than going over the accounts. Doing anything with Guy was better than anything else she could think of.

  Amber had begged Ivy to come in and help the customers while Serena worked on the bouquets. She’d guessed Ivy would be eager, and Ivy was. Any opportunity to be running the show without Amber getting in the way was her bonus.

  For once Amber didn’t care. Oh, joyous day. She could escape.

  Not that she didn’t love her shop. She was absolutely grateful to have it. Especially when Guy breezed in, exuding energy and purpose. Everything glowed then.

  Including her heart when he strolled up to her at her counter.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ He held her in his gaze as if she was the only woman in the world.

  It was only a few hours since they’d been in each other’s arms.

  Amber had realised both Serena and Ivy had guessed about their connection. Ivy had accused her of being besotted. Amber didn’t care if the whole world knew. She was happy, though she felt relieved that Guy understood that here in the shop there could be no touching. He was such an intuitive, professional, reliable, sensitive, gorgeous guy.

  ‘Ready to be a star?’ he added, his eyes gleaming.

  ‘You’d better believe it.’ It would have been churlish to mention she’d already tasted stardom for a couple of glorious years. ‘And I feel—fantastic.’ She used her husky voice. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Fan—tastic.’

  And he looked it. Even with Ivy hovering nearby over a potential customer, and Serena poking her head out from the bunching room, flashing Amb
er grins and thumbs up, it was impossible not to eat him with her eyes.

  He was in jeans today, though not the scruffy ones. These were more the sleek type preferred by movie directors and Italian racing car drivers. A crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled back exposed the tanned desirability of his arms. Arms that had held her through the night. Arms she’d have stepped into right then and there if they’d been alone.

  His gleaming grey gaze travelled over her outfit, reinforcing her pleasant inner blaze. ‘Look at you. You’re inspiring my vision. You look gorgeous.’

  She smiled. ‘And you look—edible.’

  For some reason he wanted her in one of her work outfits to meet his team, so she hadn’t changed from her satiny floral sheath. In shades of blue and lavender, with a hint of turquoise, it was shortish, and looked good with her one and only pair of four-inch heels. As well, she’d swirled her hair into a chignon and stuck in an iris.

  Considering the last time he’d seen her she’d been naked apart from a sheet, she was glad she’d flowered up. Flowery had its advantages. It was hard not to look pretty when smothered in blooms.

  Ivy bustled over, to elbow Amber out of the way so she could ring up a transaction, and Guy sharpened up his conversation for Ivy’s benefit.

  ‘It’ll be good for the team to see you in your workwear,’ he said gravely. ‘It’ll help them understand the theme.’

  ‘Humph,’ Ivy grunted, rolling her eyes. ‘Theme. Unless you’re purchasing something, would you mind moving away from the counter, sir?’

  As Amber turned an incredulous look on Ivy, Guy said smoothly, ‘But I am purchasing something, Ivy. I’m buying all your stock.’

  Ivy’s jaw dropped. ‘What? You can’t. I’ll have nothing for my customers.’

  ‘Yes, he can, Ivy,’ Amber cut in firmly. She smiled at Guy. ‘Maybe you could just leave us a few blooms in case we get a wild rush?’

  ‘Aha! Do you get those too?’ he said. ‘I think I had one this morning, in fact.’

  It was hard not to laugh with Ivy looking so dour, but Amber managed to hold it in, though she had to avoid Guy’s eyes, knowing they were brimming with amusement.

  Keeping his mouth grave, he pointed to the iris in her hair. ‘Can you spare some of those? And we might take some of these, these, and those over there. And more of the roses. My vision of you involves lots of roses.’

  Amber retrieved a delivery box from the back room, and with Serena’s help started to layer in the blooms while Ivy glowered, totting up the cost like a distrustful hawk.

  By the time Guy had finished selecting the flowers he wanted for his scenario they’d filled a second large box.

  ‘What do you plan to do with them all?’ Amber said when they were in the car. Divine fragrances issued from the boxes in the rear.

  Guy leaned over and, cupping her face, kissed her. Along with his own exciting personal flavour, at this time of day he tasted of coffee. Although her lips still felt tender from the ravages of the night, it seemed impossible to satisfy their insatiable desire for more of him. Somehow they would never listen to reason. Nor would her breasts and her other erotic parts.

  But, to her grateful pleasure, his exploring hands found all her secret places through her clothes and aroused her all over again.

  Guy was similarly afflicted. ‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ he groaned, drawing away from her. ‘You taste too good. If the team wasn’t waiting …’

  Marvelling at how her eyes actually did resemble jewels, and at how he might even be tempted to say such a mushy thing aloud if he didn’t keep a strict check on his tongue, Guy felt an unnerving thought flash into his head.

  Not for the first time, in fact. Only now it was about to happen he was seeing more clearly than ever before how difficult it might be to keep this romance—or fling, or whatever he was engaged in—under wraps.

  If the crew cottoned on to it …

  He could imagine it only too well. The trouble was they knew too much. Most of them were aware of his ancient history. Some had witnessed the event, for God’s sake. He didn’t care about that any more. He was over it. He just couldn’t stand for them all to get excited. To be watching from the sidelines, avidly appraising every move he made. Hoping he’d be lucky this time. Whispering among themselves about whether or not he could pull it off.

  Guts clenching in sudden distaste, he started the car and reversed out of the park with an unexpected screech of tyres. Nosing the car into the traffic stream, he said grimly, ‘I’ll just have to keep my hands off you today, that’s all.’

  Clutching her seat belt, Amber stared at him in surprise. The lines of his face seemed suddenly tense. But as though he sensed her curiosity he relaxed his expression and flashed her a warm glance.

  She glanced at the long muscled thighs appealingly encased in denim on the other side of the console. ‘But I don’t have to keep my hands off you just yet, do I?’

  By the time he drove them into the basement of the steel and glass tower in Castlereagh Street, where his office was located, she’d covered a lot of territory.

  After he pulled on the handbrake they each straightened their clothes. Amber checked her face in the sun visor mirror and patted her hair in place.

  ‘What do you think? Lipstick?’

  Smiling, he softly drew his forefinger across her mouth. ‘No need.’

  The light, sensual touch made the blood swell helplessly in her veins.

  ‘You may be right. It’d be a crime to cover up that last kiss.’

  Desire flared in his eyes and he kissed her again—another long, breathless, sexy clinch—causing them to have to go through the tidying-up procedure all over again.

  He sat back then and frowned a little, squaring his shoulders. ‘There is just one small point I should probably mention.’

  ‘Yeah?’ She gazed expectantly at him.

  ‘It’s about the team.’ Beneath his dark brows his grey eyes were glittering with some intent calculation. ‘They’re a great team, but you might find—especially at first—they can seem pretty businesslike.’

  She nodded. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s good,’ he said warmly. ‘It’s the way it has to be. But they … er …’ He gestured, evading her eyes. ‘Well, they don’t know about us knowing each other personally, of course.’

  She studied him through her lashes. ‘Well, of course. How would they?’

  He flicked her a glance of amused appreciation. Then he said carefully, ‘It’s better they don’t know.’

  ‘Fine.’ She reached and drew a finger from his cheekbone to his jaw. ‘I’ll try not to lust. And I promise I won’t blab about what you were doing at three o’clock this morning.’

  He gave a small laugh. ‘I know you won’t do that. But because they won’t understand the real situation, I just don’t want you to feel as if anyone’s trying to—push you around.’

  ‘Why would I feel like that?’

  He waggled his hand. ‘Well, they can be a little abrupt. I know how sensitive you are, and I’d hate you to take it personally. They’re used to dealing with professional models. So if anyone gives you instructions, or comments on your appearance, you need to understand it will be strictly for professional purposes.’

  ‘I see.’ She nodded.

  ‘The thing is …’ He hesitated. ‘I would hate your tender feelings to be hurt.’

  She thought of some of the savage insults the director of the ballet company had been likely to shriek at the dancers when rehearsal wasn’t going well. It was tempting to laugh, but his concern was so genuine, so kind, she was filled with a fierce tenderness for him. She just squeezed his knee and gave him a reassuring grin.

  ‘Relax. I’m used to showbiz. Don’t you know I’m an O’Neill?’

  ‘Oh, I know.’ His eyes gleamed.

  Still, she wondered if she was imagining he looked a bit stressed.

  Up on the forty-eighth floor a small group was waiting to me
et her. There was an older guy, one young executive type in his late twenties, a youngish red-haired boy, and two capable-looking women—one with flaming hair who introduced herself as Maggie.

  As Guy had predicted, they all shook hands with Amber in a friendly and professional manner, then promptly forgot she was human.

  A wall screen glowed with a picture of a beautiful fifteenth century painting of people in a garden wearing long floaty dresses. Amber wasn’t sure which one of the characters was supposed to represent her, because no one bothered to explain. She tilted her head to read the label printed along the side of the reproduction. La Primavera it was called. Spring.

  They strolled around her, discussing her attributes as a model so frankly Amber was glad she’d been warned. Still, it was all quite clinical. She might as well have been a blow-up doll.

  Guy stood by while they inspected her from top to toe, not commenting much, but clearly in command. Since the car park he’d morphed into ‘The Boss’. She had to keep looking at him to believe he was the same person who’d borrowed her toothbrush, then actually confessed.

  His demeanour made it clear to any interested parties that though he might have seen her flower shop in the distance once, by pure chance only, she remained a total stranger to him. Lucky she was no stranger to the way professionals worked behind the scenes, or she might have been offended.

  The team directed comments to Guy from time to time, but his replies were minimal, as if he didn’t want to join the party. Amber noticed they kept sending him faintly surprised looks.

  His eyes were inscrutable, but alert, and there was a certain tension in his posture as they pulled her apart. Nothing about her was sacred, it seemed. Her face, her figure, her hands, legs and ankles. Even her knees. All came under discussion and, though most bits seemed to pass the photobility test, she flinched at some of the comments.

  ‘If she was even an inch taller …’

  Ha. They had to be kidding. She’d been one of the tallest in the company. What did they want? A giraffe?

  Guy seemed to feel the same way. ‘How tall do you want her, André?’ he said pleasantly. ‘That height looks excellent to me.’