by Colet Abedi
Madly in Love
-the Novella-
Colet Abedi
Copyright 2015 by Colet Abedi
All Rights Reserved.
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Colet Abedi
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Chapter One
When I was a little girl all I ever wanted was to have my own happily ever after. I wanted love. True love. The kind you live for. Want to die for. The kind that is everything. And more.
And then I met Clayton Astor Sinclair.
And my whole world was turned upside down. Everything I thought love was, changed. Suddenly something clicked in my head. And I understood the real meaning of the word.
Love is not a fairytale.
Love is harsh.
And cruel.
It’s consuming. Passionate. It’s an addiction. Once found, one you can’t live without. And now I have to. Because I know there will never be another Clayton. That kind of man only comes once in your life. If you’re lucky enough.
And I was.
I met Clayton when I went on a trip with my best friend, Erik and his boyfriend, Orie, in order to find myself. Yes, I know. It sounds so cliché. Maybe it is. But for me it was my reality. I was escaping my controlling family, my ex-boyfriend, Jerry, and coming to terms with my decision to drop out of law school and literally turn my world upside down.
So Erik took my hand and we went off to the Maldives. I know, the Maldives. One of the world’s most beautiful places. It’s like a dream. Breathtaking. The water is clear blue; the ambiance is made for pure relaxation. What I didn’t know was that it would also be perfect setting for romance. I remember stepping into the lounge of the W hotel, waiting for the seaplane to take us to the resort when I locked eyes with what I can only describe as a walking fantasy.
Clayton is gorgeous. Really. Drop dead, unbelievably, gorgeous. He has looks you wish you could clone. Cerulean blue eyes that glitter like precious jewels, a strong jaw, tanned skin that makes him look as if he’s spent a lifetime out in the sun. Model perfect cheekbones, a nose that was made for his face. And that’s not all. His body.
Oh. My. God.
His body. Unreal. Literally. Un-freaking-real. Abs for days, a broad chest that I believe was sculpted to make women just drool and long, beautiful sinewy arms.
And his hands. Oh Lord.
Strong hands. The kind that can span your waist, lift you up against his rock hard chest, cradle your face, and pull your hair back roughly so that those lips of his can own your mouth. Just completely devour it until you can’t think straight and frankly don’t even want to.
God. Just thinking about him makes me want him. Crave him like a meth addict. I’m home now. All alone in my apartment in Los Angeles just thinking about all the moments I had with him. Reliving everything over and over again. The smiles. The possessive way his eyes would sweep over me. His hands. Crap. Here I go thinking about those hands again.
My doorbell rings and I’m reluctant to answer it. Honestly, I’m reluctant to even move from my fetal position on the couch. I haven’t showered in two days and I’m wearing old tattered sweats. I don’t really have to guess to know who it is. And I know he won’t be too pleased about what I look like. Erik is a Hollywood stylist and costume designer and one of his favorite mottos in life is ‘dress everyday as if you’re going to die in those clothes.’ To be fair, I don’t think I would want to die in what I’m wearing.
I do a quick mental preparation for what is about to hit me then lift myself up off my beige couch and open the door. And I’m right. It is Erik. From the look on his face he doesn’t look too happy to see me in this state.
He looks perfect as usual. His blonde hair is spiked up and he’s wearing a V-neck black sweater with jeans. He’s holding two grocery bags.
“Jesus,” he says as his gaze sweeps over my greasy hair and outfit.
“Please don’t even go there,” I tell him as he walks right past me and into the apartment.
“You have ten seconds to get in the shower and wash your hair or I am literally going to drag you in there myself. And it won’t be pretty.” Erik says pointing a finger at me. “You know how I feel about hygiene.”
“I’m mourning,” I tell him defensively.
“Oh for God’s sake!” He rolls his eyes. “You should be celebrating that someone finally popped that goddamn cherry of yours. It was a crime that you were a twenty-three year old virgin. Do you understand how utterly rock fucking bottom that was?”
I follow him into my small kitchen as he sets the grocery bag down and begins to pull items out onto my countertop.
“I mean before that trip, Orie and I were so worried that you were going to become an angry cat lady,” Erik goes on. “If you waited any longer I was considering doing the deed and you know how I feel about puss.”
I cringe at the thought. Erik is like my brother from another mother. The thought. Lord. Just gross.
“That visual is just so wrong,” I admit to him.
“You’d be lucky to have me.” He winks to let me know that he’s joking. “Now go in the shower and come out in fresh, matching clothes while I make us a taco salad.”
“I’m not really hungry.” At this moment food has zero appeal.
“Do I look like I care?” He says as he gestures to me. “You’re like a lollipop head and I’m all for skinny but the way you look right now makes Karen Carpenter seem like she needed fat camp.“
“Erik.”
“I can’t take it. I can’t have you look like Skeletor.”
I know there is no sense arguing with him so I nod my head.
“Okay.”
“And then we’re going to watch a movie,” he says. “A comedy. Something funny. And the best part is we’re going to drink. Heavily.”
He pulls out two bottles of white wine to show me. I immediately perk up.
“Okay.” I say again.
“Give me something else,” he says as he gestures dramatically with his hands. “I know there are more words in your vocabulary. You did go to law school. For like a semester or two.”
“Thank you.” I tell him. Because I mean it. He is too good to me. I probably don’t deserve him. I’m sure he’d agree with that statement in his own sarcastic way. But God, I’m so grateful to have him in my life. Especially now.
“I’m not going to hug you because you smell,” he says with a smile. “But after that shower I’ll wrap you in my warmth and give you some love. We’ll snuggle through the movie.”
I laugh. My mood improves when he pulls the cookie dough batter out of the bag.
“Is that Tollhouse Chocolate Chip?” I can feel my stomach start to rumble.
“Your favorite.”
Did I say I love him?
“Be right back,” I tell him quickly. Suddenly the thought of drowning my misery in raw cookie dough batter and wine sounds like the best thing in the world. And it is. It really is because I’ve done it before. Like more than once.
I’m surprised when Erik shakes his head.
“No, you will not. You need a good scrub with a loofah. If that shower isn’t on for at least twent
y minutes, I’ll send you back.”
“So rude,” I say with a smirk.
“Honey,” Erik tells me, “if you were seeing what I’m seeing you wouldn’t be so quick to make that statement. What’s going on right now with you is all sorts of wrong. In fact, your hair is so dirty I can’t really tell that it’s brown and the crust around your eyes is hiding that gorgeous green color of yours.”
My smile is immediate. This has been my relationship with Erik since the moment I met him.
“I love you.”
“Clearly, I love you more,” he says with great gusto.
“Doubtful.”
I leave him and walk down the hall to my bedroom. When I’m inside I shut the door and stare at my lonely queen bed. Funny, before meeting Clayton I never thought sleeping alone sucked. But now, I think it’s almost like the worst thing in the world. Having someone wrapped around your body at night like you were made for each other is just so much more appealing. I sigh. At least there is peace to find in my room because it is so me. My parents were generous enough to buy me a complete set from Restoration Hardware that looks vintage with light grey distressed wood. My sheets and bedding are winter white and fresh and I’m not one for clutter.
I have a few pictures of my parents and Erik and the only other addition to my room is the art. My own. I filled the walls with different pieces. I painted various scenes from nature with the base color in pale blue on large oil canvases. Looking at them makes me just as happy as painting does. I quickly take my clothes off and walk into my bathroom and turn on the shower. The hot water feels like heaven. I stand under my showerhead and let the water just pour over my face.
My tears come fast, mingling in and suddenly I’m transported back in time to the Maldives and I’m there in Clayton’s villa. I remember how the sun felt on my body like it was yesterday. I love lying out and I’m lucky that I don’t burn.
I was on the lounge chair staring out on the large expanse of the clear blue ocean. Just admiring the incredible view. Clayton had booked the Presidential villa on the resort for himself and it was like a fantasy, with stairs from the deck leading out into the sea and infinity pool that I’d get in and dare myself to dream of the future.
I had moved into Clayton’s villa with him after he had whisked me away to a private island for two nights. It was where I lost my virginity. In retrospect I think I knew from the moment I set eyes on him that he would be the one. One look from him set my body on fire. From the second our eyes met he had that kind of power over me. At the time, I had actually made myself believe that he felt the same way.
“How long do you plan on leaving me alone?” Clayton asked as he came to stand next to my chair, his large frame shielding me from the sun.
As usual I found myself staring up at his body. He was wearing black board shorts that hung low allowing me to just drool over his abs and chest. Seriously. The man was just too much of a good thing. If there was a way to transcribe my thought process when Clayton was around I would look like vapid sex starved idiot.
“I thought you were working?” I said as he leaned down to run a finger along my arm. The goose bumps were immediate.
“Finished for some time,” he told me with that delicious voice of his. I loved his English accent.
“Why didn’t you let me know?” I asked as I leaned to my side on my elbow so I could face him.
“I was enjoying watching you.”
“Voyeur,” I joked.
“With you, maybe.” He said as he shrugged his shoulders.
I flushed at the thought.
“Everything about you is so fresh and honest. You hide nothing, which I find so fascinating.” Clayton said to me.
His hand moved from my arm to my waist, his fingers softly touching my skin. Ever so softly. Until he went on even lower, moving through the thin fabric of my bikini until his hand palmed me. I gasped with pleasure.
“I love all of your reactions,” he said as his fingers slowly moved inside my eyes closed on their own accord, “I especially love how wet you are for me.”
I was. It didn’t take much to make hot for him. Literally, all he had to do was smile at me or even say ‘hi’ and I was good to go.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I did as I was told. It was hard not to listen to him.
“I want to watch you come,” he said as he began to weave that erotic web of his. I should have been embarrassed by his blunt words but instead they turned me on. He had done that to me. In just a week I had gone from being an innocent virgin afraid of her own body, to a woman who felt powerful by her ability to turn a man on.
In less than a second I was lost.
His fingers worked their magic, slowly, torturously. Rubbing me in just the right place, moving inside and out, until all I could think about was how it wasn’t enough. It never was with him. And was the beauty of Clayton Astor Sinclair.
I reached out to grab the waistband of his shorts.
“No,” he said almost harshly as I watched him struggle for some control. He pulled away from me to prove the point.
“Please,” I whispered. I could see that he wanted me too. Why was he denying us both?
“I call the shots, Sophie,” Clayton said me. “All. Of Them.”
I moaned as his fingers moved out then back in, completely incapable of answering.
“Do you understand?”
I couldn’t answer him. I was too lost in the erotic web he had spun around me.
“I’m going to tell you how this is going to work,” he continued.
God. He was such a Neanderthal. Always wanting to be in control. Always demanding. Getting his way. And I couldn’t lie to myself, I kind of loved it. Was I glutton for punishment? Maybe.
Yes. Big yes.
“Show me that you understand what I’m saying to you,” Clayton demanded.
Speaking was out of the question so I just nodded.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” he said ordered. “Don’t look anywhere else or I won’t give you what you want.”
His other hand moved to pull my bikini top down, exposing my breasts. I should have been embarrassed, so obviously in need and practically begging the man to have his way with me. But I wasn’t. I wanted my release and I knew he was the only one who could give it to me.
I watched him lightly brush his hand over my nipple, my chest arched up to give him more access, as it hardened under his touch. He moved back and forth at leisure, erotically, making me ache and want more.
And then it was like the ALS ice bucket challenge and it felt like someone threw a fast one on me. The sexual assault to my senses stopped. Clayton pulled away completely and leaned back to just watch me with his smoky eyes. It took me a moment to come back to earth and when I did was practically shaking with desire. I turned toward him to read his face.
There was so much desire there. And it was all for me.
It still blew my mind.
“Why did you stop?” I pleaded.
“Because it was time,” he said to me.
He slowly rose and stepped away from the lounge chair to drop his swim trunks. My mouth watered at the sight of his naked body. But he didn’t join me like I hoped. Instead, he turned around and walked over to step in the large plunge pool that overlooked the Indian Ocean. He disappeared from view as he dunked his entire head in the water, then came up seconds later, dripping wet, his lashes spiky, just staring at me. Smoldering heat oozing from every pore of his body.
He made his way to the furthest side of the pool that practically kissed the sea and crossed his arms, and proceeded to stare at me. He looked like he was part of a beautiful painting. It was a gorgeous shot of him that I mentally memorized so I could recreate it on canvas. He was unusually quiet as I studied him.
Like a predator studying his victim.
What was this game?
“Sophie,” he finally said as he watched me, his eyes traveling over my body and resting on my exposed breasts. I knew he
wanted me. I could see it in his eyes.
I took a deep breath to gain some control. I wanted to be just as cool as he was, even though he was the master at seduction. He had way more experience, knew how to talk, where to touch, when to pull back- all the odds were miserably stacked against me to win a battle of seduction against Clayton Sinclair, but I had to give it a try.
“Clayton,” I said back softly then moved off the lounge. I turned my back to him and took my time, taking off my bikini top, then bottoms, letting them drop to the floor. I stepped away from the small pieces of clothing.
His gasp of pleasure eased my racing heart.
Now or nothing.
I quickly turned and walked toward him and watched with some satisfaction that his gaze never left mine. There was something extremely sexy about that, knowing he could look anywhere on my bare body but that he chose to capture my eyes. I slowly made my way into the plunge pool.
He stayed at his end and I stayed at mine. The small expanse of water that separated us felt like miles.
Clayton gave me a challenging grin. I returned it and he arched a brow in surprise. It was like a game of chess, except I had never played against someone with his skill. And I had pretty good idea that I wouldn’t win. At least not yet.
“The water feels good,” I told him. I dunked my head in the pool and came out, making sure to rise up high enough so that only the tips of my nipples could be seen. His hot gaze made my heart race even more.
“Does it?” He said rather roughly.
I smiled at him and tried my best to seem unaffected by what he was doing to me. He was caressing me with his eyes, I knew mentally touching my body, and it was so good I could actually feel it all over.
“So what now?” I asked rather breathlessly.
Chapter Two
“Sophie!”
There’s banging on my bathroom door.
“Sophie!”
Erik’s voice rudely breaks through my daydream. I realize that I’m pressed up against the tile in the shower and am practically panting as I relive my time with Clayton. My hands are up trying to claw at the wall. Just like a crazy person in an asylum. Oh. My. God!
