by Christa Wick
Stepping in front of Melanie, Declan placed his hands on her shoulders and gently forced her to stop pacing.
"You need to relax, Mel."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you know CZ offered to pay me—"
"Ten thousand for a camera in the fitting room," he finished and planted a kiss on her nose. "Yes, I know. And thank you for reporting the offer to the studio's security team. Did you know your information got the reporter fired?"
Her mouth dropped open. Snapping it shut, she shook her head.
Great, now she had Shayna and maybe that nauseating Corbin Dash out for her blood!
Closing her eyes, she leaned into Declan, her head on his shoulder and her arms around his waist. She wanted to melt when he folded his arms around her in turn.
And that kiss on the nose, how freaking precious was that?
It was enough to make her ovaries break into the tango.
She nestled closer and tried to keep all the doom and gloom thoughts from creeping back into her mind, but she couldn't.
"You know," she started, hesitating but unable to stop the leaky hole that was her mouth. "This could wind up making your relationship with Roger public."
"I don't have a relationship with Roger."
She didn't feel a shift in Declan's body, but his voice took on a hard edge.
"If it comes out," he continued and planted a kiss against her temple, "that I’m his brother's bastard, I'll use the added media coverage to get more of what I want from the studios."
She looked up, perplexed. This was the old Declan in her arms, at least some of him. The one who only spoke to the important people on set.
Looking down at her, his gaze sharpened. "What, Mel?"
"No offense...but you sounded a little like a Hollywood shark for a second there."
His face split into a soft smile and he tilted her head up for a kiss that lasted far longer than the sweet, but quick, pecks of the last few minutes.
"Sometimes, baby, that's exactly what I am."
27
"So what do you want from the studios?" Melanie asked as Declan steered her toward a set of doors she had yet to pass through.
His hand falling on the door knob, he twisted it. "Lots of things."
He grinned when he answered. She almost missed the smile as she stared at the room revealed. The black marble flooring was disrupted by sheepskin rugs like the one in his bedroom interspersed with two-inch thick exercise mats covered in what looked like black vinyl.
Near the far wall was some sort of capsule, huge, round and as white as the moon.
"Any particular thing?" she poked as she eyed the object with suspicion. At an equal distance between it and one of the thick black mats was a three-tier table in black lacquer with rolled towels on the shelves.
"Yes." Declan said.
She cut a side glance at him for the cryptic answer. Looking at him, her feet tried to tangle around one another. His arms caught her before her clumsiness got out of hand.
All the tension that had crept into Declan after she mentioned Roger evaporated upon entering the black and white room. His lips brushed over her ear and cheek as she studied her surroundings. Beyond the expensive marble flooring, mats and rugs, and what her imagination had dubbed the moon ship, there were pedestals and sculptures, the black marble bases rising up from their matching floor to be capped by carvings from a variety of white stone.
The walls and ceiling were a bare, stark white, the walls divided into sections by equally white beams that ran their entire height.
She glanced at the moon ship and wondered if it, too, was supposed to be art.
The section facing her had a seam that looked like it could be a large hatch door, its bottom edge located about two feet off the ground. Next to one side of the seam was a silver button almost as big as her fist.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to give the button a push, but she was still distracted by Declan's vague response and the trail his lips were following along the side of her neck.
"Are you going to tell me what you really want from the studios?"
She'd heard gossip, of course—that he’d deigned to take the role as an alien warrior in what was an unchallenging movie but sure to be a summer blockbuster so he could jump studios with the promise of getting a pet project green lighted by Paravista.
Apparently more interested in the breast his hand was warmly palming than her question, Declan continued to kiss at her neck, the sensations produced by his warm lips making her body sizzle all the way out to her toes and fingertips.
"Is it that mysterious project people whisper about?"
"Could be," he replied, his hands moving to cup her face and stop her silly questions with a longer kiss, his lips prying hers open with short teases until his tongue could slip inside her mouth. "If you're still curious later, I'll tell you."
"Later?" She repeated, the word fuzzy as it escaped. Her body had started to vibrate from the kiss and the hold he maintained on her flesh. The buzzing didn't penetrate her brain, which felt like it was swimming in warm molasses.
"Yes," he answered, pushing the silver button and coaxing her to the side. "After I get you relaxed enough that I can have my way with you all over again—and again."
He walked to where the towels were and grabbed three. One turned out to be more of a bath mat and he placed that on the floor, the remaining rolled towels resting on it. Wearing a fresh grin, Declan then stripped off his shirt as the moon ship's door finished opening to reveal a hollow interior. Its bottom half was filled with water that stopped a few inches below where the door began.
With the same quick efficiency, Declan shucked off the rest of his clothes.
She pointed at the giant white tank. "Are you getting in there?"
He moistened his lips, rolling them as his brows crawled up and amusement glittered in the gray gaze. "We are getting in there."
Melanie looked at his nude body—his perfectly sculpted, golden tanned body—and matched his raised brows. "Do I have to get in like that?"
"Did you bring a swimsuit?"
That she didn't even fucking own a swimsuit shot through her head.
"No."
She scowled at the interior. What the hell was he thinking anyway? The water was too deep to lie down in like a bath and too shallow to cover her breasts if she sat instead. And even if the interior remained unlit, with just the light through the open door, she'd still have to get naked to get inside.
She much preferred the near dark of the screening room and the low lights of Declan's bedroom.
"Why would I want to get in there?" she asked despite the obvious answer standing so close to her, its muscles flexing with anticipation
He plucked lightly at the hem of her blouse. "To begin with, floating in there can be transcendent and..."
Going from the metaphysical to the very physical, he guided her hand to his cock. In the two minutes or so since he had stripped down, Declan had grown fully erect. Her hand, with an aching reflex, squeezed softly at the beast of a cock at the same time her pussy contracted.
Offering a fleeting kiss, Declan pulled away, stepped into the tub and quickly lowered himself into the water, his legs almost instantly popping up to the surface when he leaned back.
"It's filled with pounds upon pounds of salt," he explained. "You don't even have to work at floating. I've fallen asleep in here for hours."
She stood in front of the door, staring in at him.
"Pitch black with the door closed unless we want the mood lighting on and soundproof for most noises unless we want something playing over the speakers."
We, we, we.
Melanie exhaled a shaky breath. She didn't need a lot of salt to be buoyant. Her jiggly bits made her that way naturally. And what would those jiggly bits do with their buoyancy increased?
Heck, she'd look like the Pillsbury Doughboy—from when he had starred in Ghostbusters!
"Come on, Mel," Declan coaxed. "You'll love it onc
e you're in here. I'll keep my eyes shut until the door closes if you're going to get all shy on me."
"I don't need you to close your eyes."
The words came out waspish, exposing her lie. She mashed her lips together, hoping he hadn't noticed her tone but certain he had.
"All the better then, baby girl." Swooping one arm, he turned his body inside the tank so that his head was near the door and he was looking up at her, the dark blond brows waggling above the mischievous gray gaze.
With a long-hemmed blouse and years of experience from high school gym class and college dorms, she managed to get her bra, pants and underwear off without exposing anything above her upper thigh.
Drawing a deep breath, she nutted up and stripped the blouse away before shooing Declan from the opening and stepping in. She wanted to shield herself, but she wouldn't give in and admit he was right about her wanting to hide.
"Just what do you think is going to happen in here?" she asked as he moved to close the door.
He pulled down on the hatch, the light in the tank disappearing to thin lines at the edges. Then the door clicked into place and nothing but black filled the space.
"Pure relaxation," he answered. "Otherwise I'd have to replace all nine hundred pounds of salt."
Finding her hand, he guided her toward the tank's center. Feeling him maneuver onto his back, she did the same.
"Wow" with an exclamation point flashed inside her head. He’d been right about not having to work to float. She experimented by trying to turn over but the water pushed back at her. Feeling completely weightless, she wanted to cry.
Declan squeezed her hand.
"Let me know if you feel claustrophobic."
She laughed. "That's kind of something you want to ask first, but I'm not. It's kind of like the screening room."
"Yeah, I've been trying to figure out how to mold the two into something tank size. The curved display is a little tough, but protecting the circuitry is the real problem."
"You're not just a pretty face," she whispered and squeezed his hand in return.
"I hope you noticed that before now." His hand moved up to her wrist, his thumb stroking lightly at her flesh.
"Yes. But I wanted to acknowledge it."
Her lips pursed together. It was hard reconciling this version of Declan, the one with the giant-sized ideas but who had helped Cammie, with the man she had dressed on set.
"You said I'd been giving you sleepless nights for two months."
When she tensed at the can of worms she was trying to open, her body threatened to sink. The falling sensation lasted less than a second before the salt condensed beneath her and pushed upward.
"At least a dozen times you caught me looking at you in the mirror," Declan answered. His hand shifted again, this time to allow the back of his fingers to caress the side of her breast. "Each time you studiously returned to your work—after rolling your eyes at me."
Her mouth opened in a small "O" of horror that he’d caught her doing that. She’d only been rolling her eyes all those times because she’d thought he was admiring his reflection, not hers. She never thought he would see the eye rolls or, consequently, interpret them as some kind of rejection.
“So then I guess we’re even about the sleepless nights,” she said by way of apology.
He gave her a slow, wicked grin. “Not even close, baby.”
28
Reaching along the wall of the tank, Declan pressed at a control panel. Noise began to filter through unseen speakers. She recognized it as part of the soundtrack from the screening room and smiled. "You did bring part of it in here."
Waves, the song of whales, the subtle but constant churn of the ocean's depths—they listened together, floating and holding hands with no more words exchanged. She may have even drifted off to sleep as he claimed he’d done so many times before.
Finally, she gave his hand a small squeeze.
"Does that mean you're fully relaxed?" The question issued in a sensual drawl, like a man whose bones had sloughed away from too much loving.
"Yes."
She was fully relaxed and falling deeper under Declan's spell. She knew that, but didn't want to escape at the moment. She wanted what he had promised would follow—him having his way with her.
Shifting his weight, Declan moved from floating to kneeling in the water. His hands reached out and secured her hips so she couldn't float away from him.
"I'll open the hatch after you admit you loved being in here and I was right."
She huffed, half in jest. "It was exceptionally pleasant. Thank you for making the experience possible."
He tsk'd and drew her closer, one hand sliding beneath her while the other lightly traced lines along the bottom curve of her stomach, the arcs trending down toward her mound so that her flesh began to heat from the inside out.
"I didn't hear 'love' in there anywhere," he persisted. "Or that I was right."
Stay calm, she cautioned inside her head. Slowly say what he wants to hear and you won't twist it into what's running through your brain right now, Mel.
"Absolutely...I love...loved it. You were right."
"See, not so hard," he said, tracing a new line from the top split of her labia up to one nipple. "Now it's time to shower."
Before he let her go and opened the hatch, he pressed his lips to hers, his fingers teasing one nipple. The kiss might have gone on forever, but she started to squirm with need from the sensuous slide of his mouth. The squirming caused her to sink.
Opening the hatch, Declan stepped out and wrapped an oversized towel around his waist before grabbing the remaining towel and handing it to her. One hand ensuring its bottom edge didn't dip into the water, Melanie wrapped the length around her torso and joined him on the bath mat.
"Stay here a second."
Declan disappeared around the side of the tank and fetched her another towel.
"Didn't think about your hair. Just used to worrying about this," he said, rubbing a hand over his short hair.
Melanie cocked her head at him. Was he really saying she was the first woman he'd spent time with in the tank? Given its size, the thing seemed intended for two people.
"How long have you had it?"
"Three years, maybe." He crooked a finger, gesturing for her to follow after him. "I've had the house only slightly longer."
The trip from the tank to the shower was about thirty feet, with one of the white panels that made up the walls actually a disguised door to a full bathroom with a jacuzzi and separate shower.
"Are any of the other panels hidden doors?"
He answered with a frustrating wink.
The sheer wealth evidenced by just his home made Melanie a little dizzy—and apprehensive. Shaking her head, she tried to expel any feelings of inadequacy from her mind. How lopsided, she mused, that women felt like they had to be perfect no matter who their partner was, but so many males seemed to think that merely having testicles meant they were acceptable to the world's richest, most beautiful women.
"You okay, baby girl?" he asked, his gray gaze suddenly crowded with concern.
"Yes, but I'm fighting not to be overwhelmed," she admitted and hoped he wouldn't ask what aspects of their relationship to date were stressing her.
Every damn aspect!
He lifted his brows, a small smile teasing one corner of his mouth. "So no sunset drive down the coast with the top down on my new Alfa Romeo Spider?"
Melanie blinked. She would love to take that drive with him. Even better would be if he trusted her to do a little of the driving.
"Do you want to?" she whispered as he hung his towel on the drying rack.
Turning back, Declan pulled her closer. He carefully removed the towel she had looped around her hair then tugged open the one concealing her body. Letting both towels fall to the floor, he drew her into his arms.
"I would love to," he said, mirroring her desire. "But you know what that means?"
She nodded. "No hidi
ng."
He brushed the hair from her face then tilted her chin up. His mouth covered hers, one hand still controlling the angle of her head as the other smoothed down to cup her breast and thumb at the nipple. She felt his cock harden against her stomach, his erection bobbing forward when his tongue swept deeper into her mouth.
Declan pulled back, his eyes half shut. Releasing her, he nodded at the shower enclosure.
"Let's concentrate on one thing at a time."
With the soft smile playing all along his mouth, she wouldn't dream of arguing. He opened the glass door for her and she stepped through. Like the rest of the house, the shower was impressive, its floor space some six feet by six feet with a stone bench along one wall and a wide, deep shelf built into another.
There were three shower heads, one on each wall tiled with natural stone. Unlike the black and white of the room they had just left, the shower and rest of the bathroom was done in earthy tones.
Following after Melanie, Declan turned on each of the shower heads then drew her into the spray. She hadn't expected the shower to be platonic, even before he had grown erect. The movement of his hands proved her assumption correct as he cupped both breasts and sucked one swollen nipple into his mouth.
Releasing the nipple with a pop, he stared upward at Melanie with eyes darkened by his desire.
"Do you have any idea how hard it was to behave in the tank?" he asked.
"I thought you were all zen in there."
He dispelled the idea with a solemn shake of his head. "I kept thinking about all the things I wanted to do once I had you in here."
Melanie's entire body tightened around her pussy at the delicious threat she detected in his voice.
"Such as?" she teased.
His hand dropped down to cup her mound. He squeezed once then slipped a thick finger between her labia to stroke at her already swollen clit.
"Feast on you, Mel."
Stunned by her own lust, she could only nod.
"Turn around," he rasped, eyes glazed with heat and the steam from the shower.
She obeyed and allowed him to guide her toward the built in shelf. She had only superficially noted its dimensions when entering the shower. It started about hip high for her and, while it was deep enough to actually be a second bench, someone her height would have to climb up onto it.
