“I never admitted our prices were overinflated.” Prices were the last thing on his mind right now. He looked around them as he pulled her close. “You’ve got no witnesses. You can’t prove anything.”
Her pupils widened as she felt the effect of exactly how his body was reacting through the thin fabric of her costume.
“Maybe we should give the rest of the schmoozing a miss and move to the main event.” Her voice sounded raspy. Like a magnet, his eyes drifted downward to the small peaks now visible against the slinky folds of material.
He bent forward and murmured in her ear. “Please tell me you’re wearing lingerie under that thing.” Any other kind of thought was mind-boggling.
“Yes. Yes I definitely am. But maybe it’s not doing its job too well.”
He grabbed her hand. “Enough. Let’s go.”
He pulled her across the crowded grand hall, heading straight toward the exit. Typical, as they bulldozed toward the door, about ten people tried to stop him and say hello. Colt kept his cool, nodding on the way past. “Hi, Mr. Dawson, Taylor, Mrs. Kepler, Francis. Sorry, Noah, can’t stop—it’s a bit of an emergency.”
There was a pop as they crossed the room, followed by another and a burst of hysterical laughter from Magdalena. Colt’s thighs were burning, and he could hear the scurry of Selena’s hurried footsteps behind him. They didn’t need to stop and witness the show.
The cool night air hit them as they emerged from the bustling foyer. Colt handed his ticket to the valet and prayed it wouldn’t take him all night to maneuver the truck back out.
“So, Selena.” He pulled her close. “How about we head back to—”
A buzz cut him off midsentence. It took a few seconds to realize what it was. He looked down. Hidden in among his blaster and other Han Solo accouterments was his pager. Squealing loudly and vibrating furiously. The reason he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight—he was on call. He resisted the temptation to groan.
Selena pulled back a little. “What’s wrong? Is it an emergency? Will you have to go?”
He walked back into the foyer and pressed on his cell phone. “Hi, it’s Cole Travers. You paged me?”
“Hi, Dr. Travers, it’s Lydia at Helen’s House. We’ve a young woman and her son just brought in by the police after a domestic-abuse incident. We’re still waiting for them to arrest the husband. The woman has some facial injuries, would you be able to assess her?”
“Yes, yes no problem. I can be right there.”
Lydia hesitated. “I’m only guessing, but I think she might need some stitches.”
“Oh, okay. Well, in that case, can you take her to Seacliffe and I’ll meet you there?” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll be there in around thirty minutes. I’ll call one of my nurses in.”
“No problem. Thanks, Dr. Travers.”
He sighed and cut the call, dialing another number to set off his nurse’s pager. The timing couldn’t be worse. All he really wanted to do was get Selena out of here and see what lay beneath Princess Leia’s costume. But Colt would always be a doctor first and foremost. He would never ignore his duty of care.
He turned to Selena. “You’ll have heard most of that. It’s Helen’s House. One of their clients has had her face burst open by her husband. Normally, I’d go there to do it. But her husband is hanging around, the police haven’t picked him up yet, so it’s not safe. One of the staff is going to meet us at Seacliffe with her. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course it is. You’re a doctor. Somebody needs you.” She gave him a measured look, one that made him hold his breath and wonder what could happen later.
The valet pulled up with the truck. And quickly they both climbed in.
A few minutes later, they were roaring along the highway. He reached over and put his hand on her thigh. “This shouldn’t take long. I should be able to stitch it as soon as she arrives.”
Selena gave him a little smile. “It’s okay. I can wait,” she said, and turned her head to watch the dark night sky whizz past.
Colt focused on the road ahead. The palm of his hand was tingling where it had connected with her thigh. He knew what both expected to happen tonight. It was practically written in the stars up above. But how would Selena react to what lay underneath his costume? Would she be like some of the others before and expect perfection from a plastic surgeon?
Because if she did, she would be sorely disappointed. And he might find out she wasn’t the woman he thought she was.
…
Her stomach was churning with nerves. Her heart ached for the poor woman injured from Helen’s House, but a little part of her felt relieved that now she didn’t have to lie to Colt about where she was staying.
She could wait until he was finished with his patient and then claim she would make her own way home. Perfect.
“Selena? Where are you?”
“Out here. Watching the stars.” She was sitting out on the deck, a glass of water in her hand, lying on one of the spa loungers. She’d never sat out here at night before, always hiding away in one of the cottages. This was much more relaxing.
They were finally alone. Colt had spoken to one of the guards on the phone before he arrived, saying he would be working late and the guard could go home.
Colt came and stood at the concertina doors she’d pulled back next to the swimming pool. He leaned on the doorjamb. “How many alarms did you set off doing this?”
She was fixating on his muscular arms only half-hidden by the Han Solo costume. “None. I have friends in high places.”
He crossed out from the warm lights of the spa into the dark blue night next to her and sat at the bottom of her recliner.
“How is your patient?”
“She’s fine. The police called to let us know they’ve picked up her husband. It was safe for her to go back to Helen’s House.”
Her stomach gave a little flutter. “So, we’re all alone?”
“We’re all alone.” It might be her imagination, but his voice sound huskier than ever. He touched her leg. “You know, there’s something that’s been driving me crazy all night.”
“And what might that be?”
“These.” He ran his hand along her leg, caressing her calf where the gold strands from her gladiator sandals wound up her skin.
His touch was making her nerve endings go wild.
“And these…” He touched her star-covered toes. “I’m not entirely sure how authentic these are. I’m sure Princess Leia wore white boots.”
“Yeah, well, I made my own costume, so I needed a bit of artistic license.”
“You made your own costume? Really?” He sounded so surprised. But then again, money wasn’t an issue for him. His Han Solo costume cost a few hundred dollars he probably hadn’t thought twice about spending.
She moved toward him. “It appears I’m a woman of hidden talents. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.” She was taunting him. Teasing him. Because she loved the effect she could have on him.
Colt bent over her, putting a hand on either side of her hips. “Well, I think it’s about time I did something to remedy that.”
He’d taken the whole costume thing seriously. There were tiny bristles of stubble on his chin. She reached out and touched them. “I like the authentic touch,” she whispered, “but stubble can be really abrading on the skin, especially in sensitive areas. You’ll need to handle me with care.”
His eyes widened and the already darkened pupils dilated. She pushed one of his hands to the side and stood up, leaving him to lie back on the recliner. Was she really going to do this? She could feel the cool evening breeze dancing across her skin. It was blowing her costume against her, leaving the effects on her body clearly visible. Every hair on her skin was currently standing on end, heat pooling between her thighs and her breasts aching against the thin fabric.
She quickly glanced over her shoulder. No security cameras on the deck. There was no one else here. The spa was empty. They had a w
orld of privacy.
She tugged at one side of her costume and let it fall silently in a puddle on the ground, leaving her standing in only her gladiator sandals and white lingerie.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel self-conscious about her curves. She wanted him to admire her breasts and hips. She wanted to feel his hands on her ass. And from the expression on his face, so did he.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Selena?”
This man was watching her every move. It gave her more confidence. Let her be more playful. “You did say you like white lingerie, didn’t you?” She moved forward, putting her hands on the lounger and crawling slowly back toward him.
He tried to sit up, but she lifted her hand to halt him.
“I’ve always wanted to make love under the stars.” She looked up at the dark sky, studded with silver stars. “The climate in Scotland didn’t allow for that. But now I’m in LA…” She swung her legs around, putting one of her sandals in his lap. “Let’s make a start.”
His reactions were instant. The black vest was flung off in a second, followed closely by the placket shirt. He started to unwind the straps on her calf, at the same time caressing her skin with his delicate touch. “I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he growled.
She loved the feeling of power over this gorgeous man. “Well, I was always told that good things come to those who wait. Ooooh.” She took a sharp breath.
He’d moved swiftly, his tongue trailing along her calf to kiss the inner edge of her thigh. “I’m tired of waiting.” He worked his kisses up, lifting his hand to stroke her through the thin material of her thong.
And he had a magic touch. Her back was arching at every stroke, the sensations driving her mad. His bristles scratched at her delicate skin. But it didn’t hurt. It made her want to beg for more.
There was a tug, a tear, and her thong was gone. Replaced in seconds by his tongue. Her legs parted naturally, one of her hands reaching down to grasp the back of his head, pulling him closer with the rhythm of her body.
His other hand reached up and started to caress her nipple, gently tugging and squeezing it in time with the rest of his actions.
He raised his head from between her thighs and raised his hand to release the front clasp on her bra. He turned her on more than she could have imagined.
“Don’t you dare stop.” She tilted her pelvis toward him again, pulling his head back down between her thighs.
This had to be every girls’ dream. Lying under the perfect stars, the air brushing across her nipples, and his tongue flicking dangerously, applying gentle pressure to her aching clitoris.
She arched her back, momentum building inside her. “Oh, Colt, there. Just there. Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.” She was pulling him even closer, not wanting to let him up for breath. The need inside her was so great, so immediate. She pulsed, responding to his every flick of the tongue. Then it hit her. Wave after delicious wave. Never-ending, unadulterated pleasure. All for her.
No man had ever made her come so quickly. No man had ever made her gasp for more. She wasn’t done with him yet.
And the feeling seemed entirely mutual, because Colt was crouching above her, hands on either side of her head.
Her heart was thumping, the aftereffects of the orgasm not yet diminished. This time she wasn’t in charge. He was.
“Are you ready for some more, Selena?”
His kisses started at the side of her neck, then quickly made their way down to her breasts. Her hardened nipple was in his mouth in an instant, her back arching to push it in even more. His magic tongue went to work, flicking and teasing, then withdrawing and letting the cool night air peak her nipple once again. Could this man bring her to orgasm again solely by licking her nipples? The momentum was already beginning to build inside her. Right now, it was entirely possible.
But it wasn’t what she wanted. Her pelvic floor was beginning to spasm. Aching to be filled. She wanted to feel him inside her.
She reached down and slid her hand inside his trousers. The hardness of his erection filled her palm. She wasn’t the only one aching to be touched. His large erection pulsed beneath her fingers and she knew where she wanted to feel him next. “I feel as if I should return the favor, but right now, if you don’t get inside me, I think I’m gonna scream.”
His dark eyes gleamed with pleasure. “Oh, I’m going to make you scream. I’m really going to make you scream, baby.”
She loosened the zipper on his pants and slid them down, sliding her palms over his firm behind. She pulled him closer, feeling his hardness edge against her. “Please, Colt, don’t make me wait. I’ve never wanted anything so much.”
He let out a groan of pleasure and reached into his pocket of the discarded pants and she heard a faint rustle. With protection in place, he poised above her, the moonlight reflecting off his gorgeous face. “Ready?”
“Oh yeah, I’m ready.”
He eased his way in, giving her a few seconds to stretch to accommodate him and then she spread her legs farther, wrapping them around his waist to bring him more deeply inside.
“Harder,” she demanded. “I want it harder.”
He moved rhythmically, pounding, giving her the friction she ached for. Her hands slid down his torso, then flinched as she felt a difference in skin tone and texture on one side of his rib cage.
Colt’s face was fixed, concentrating intensely. In the pale moonlight she could see the scar tissue. The healed skin. Now she understood. The words he’d said before all came flooding back.
You’ve no idea what lies beneath these clothes. Good tailoring hides a multitude of sins.
She muffled the cry of sympathy in her throat. What had happened to Colt? How much pain had those injuries caused? A plastic surgeon with scars. It was like some kind of horrible injustice.
But there was no sign that Colt had noticed her reaction, or her attempts to hide it. He was too busy concentrating on her. The waves were starting again. Building with a ferocity and intensity that made her lose all sense of self. She cried out. Crying his name over and over as she tightened her legs even more, pulling him deeper and reveling in every stroke.
And then a scream, at a pitch even shocking to her, as her body shuddered to a halt and he tensed above her. He must have come in perfect unison with her, but she’d been so lost in her own sensations she’d missed it. Now his damp skin was next to hers, heat emanating from his body as he sagged against her.
He lifted his head, he was still cocooned inside her, his warm breath on her cheek. She didn’t want him to move. She didn’t want him to move for a second. “So, do you think I know you a little better now?”
His heart beat against her rib cage, mirroring the beats of her own. “I think we’ve made a start.”
Her hand traced the puckered skin around his ribs. “What happened here?”
She sensed his hesitation. Felt him taking a deep breath. “I was burned—it was years ago.” He was trying to shrug it off. To give a few words of explanation and leave it at that. But even in this dark light, she could see it was so much more important than he was saying.
“How young were you exactly?”
“A teenager.” His words were short. Not inviting any further conversation.
“That must have been horrible.” Her brain was going frantically, trying to decide while they were in this delicate position whether she should press him anymore or not. But she couldn’t help herself. “What happened?”
He waited for a second. “There was a fire in a warehouse. I was helping get one of my friends out. Part of the roof collapsed and burned me as I pulled him out.”
“Wow.” There were a hundred other questions around this. A thousand other things she wanted to know. Things started to slot into place in her brain. “Is this why you got into plastics?”
He nodded slowly. “I wanted to work in burns. But it turned out I didn’t have the natural talent for it. Skin grafts weren’t my fo
rte—faces were. I had to learn to accept what my skills and competencies were.”
She traced her finger over the puckered skin. “And you’ve never wanted to have a graft yourself?”
He bristled. “You think I should?”
She shifted beneath him, placing her hands on his buttocks to stop him from leaving her. “No. I don’t think you should. That’s what you meant the other day when you said I’d no idea what lay beneath your clothes. Wasn’t it?”
He gave a brief nod.
“You gave me a lecture, Colt. About accepting my own size, my own body.” She gently pushed him away from her, seeing the grimace on his face as he exited her body. She changed her position from lying on the lounger to kneeling on the ground between his legs. She pressed her lips next to his damaged skin, placing gentle kisses on it. “Well, right back at you, Mr. Travers. Because from where I’m sitting, you look pretty perfect to me.”
Her fingers traced little swirls across his skin. She smiled at him, loving the way the cool wind caressed her skin and the way it responded. There was something so decadent about being naked outside, and even though there was no one around, there was still the possibility of discovery and it was sending more illicit thrills through her. She’d never been this free and easy before and it only felt right because she was with Colt. She didn’t care that he might still be her boss. It didn’t matter that she’d only known him a few weeks. She knew exactly what she wanted to do next. She wanted to love him the way he’d loved her.
She started kissing lower, her hands stroking him, relieving him of the condom before she glanced up at him again. Her words were low. “I want to get to know you better. But the most important thing I need to know right now is your recovery time.”
“Recovery time?” The tone in his voice let her know he knew what she was thinking. She took him in her hand as he hardened once again.
“I don’t think I need any recovery time. I think a naked beautiful woman between my legs is all the recovery I need.”
“Perfect answer,” she said as she took him deep in her mouth.
Hollywood Temptation Page 12
