“How’s the water?”
“Why don’t you feel for yourself?” She used her feet to push away from the edge and floated on her back, giving him a view of her maroon bikini top. At this late hour, after having experienced multiple episodes of Conor playing games with her, she thought it might be amusing to turn the tables.
Conor considered her response for a moment before standing up and dropping her towel on the chair. Kicking off his shoes, he pulled his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt.
Felicity watched him as he undressed down to his black boxer briefs, unable to keep an appreciative smile from her face. His body was lean and sculpted, his chest lightly covered in dark hair with a thicker trail below his navel.
“You didn’t look like that in school,” she said.
He grinned and jumped into the water, swimming up to her at the 5-foot line where she just kept her head above water.
“Water feels fantastic,” he said, his eyes fixed on her breasts.
She used her fingers under his chin to pull his eyes up to hers. “Where’s Colette, CQ?”
“Doing her burlesque thing.”
“So you’ve been left to your own devices, have you?” she asked.
“Was over there,” he said, gesturing to one of the cabanas, “having drinks with Shay and Marty and the boys. Then we saw this hot little girl come out for a swim. Took us a second to realize it was you. You’re looking really good, honey.”
“You’re looking quite fit yourself.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.
“Tell me something,” she said as she put her arms around his neck.
He smiled as their bodies pressed together. “Sure thing, honey.”
“What is this you’re doing?”
“What’s what?”
“We’ve already had this talk, you know.”
“I’m not romancing you,” he said.
“No, it seems you’ve skipped right to it this time.”
“Just having a friendly swim.”
“So you do this with all your friends, then?”
He laughed. “Well, not exactly this.”
“What would happen if I didn’t stop this touchy-feely flirting you like to do with me?”
“Oh, we’d have a good time,” he assured her and raised his eyebrows suggestively. He guided her legs so they wrapped around his hips.
“Would you really sleep with me?”
He looked into her eyes for a long silent moment. She saw unmasked desire and it triggered the same sensation in her. She should have known better than to think she could play his game. Time to put a stop to it once again.
“Why do you suppose,” she said, “you so often forget you have a fiancée?”
The mention of Colette brought him back to reality. He looked away from her, though he didn’t let her go.
With eyes focused on the downtown buildings in the distance, he slowly let out a frustrated breath. “I do lose sense of everything else when I’m with you, Fee,” he said softly.
“Hey, you,” she said and he reluctantly looked at her. “Thanks for all the flirting just the same. It does make a girl feel good.”
Before he could reply, she took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips. She had intended the kiss to be simple and quick but the spark she felt at that moment was both instantaneous and intense. And then Conor took it to the next level as he opened her mouth with his tongue, kissing her with such slow burning sensuality that she unconsciously gripped his waist tighter with her knees.
The part of her brain that knew she should end this shut down as she got lost in the increasingly anxious pressure of his mouth on hers. They continued to kiss and she felt the desire for him spread throughout her body, but she forced herself to break free of him and swim to the side of the pool. Her heart beat faster than it had after the vigorous laps she had swum, and even in the warm water she could feel her body trembling.
“Damn it,” she whispered. He was clearly more skilled at these games than she was. The thing was, she didn’t want to toy with him and then return him to Colette. And she didn’t want to be his excuse for why it wouldn’t work with Colette. He needed to take responsibility and make his own decisions. Enough of this.
Conor swam up behind her and put his hands on the lip of the pool on either side of her. “Felicity—” he started.
She blinked at the tears filling her eyes and was glad she faced away from him. “I have to go.”
“Hang on,” he said but she pulled herself up to the side of the pool.
She couldn’t do anything to stop from shaking as she grabbed her towel. She wrapped it around her shoulders and hurriedly moved back into the hotel.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
There were no other towels, so Conor grabbed his clothes and walked to his room, dripping pool water as he went. The cell phone in his pants pocket rang incessantly but he didn’t bother with it. Once inside his suite, he dropped everything and turned on the shower. He peeled off his wet boxer briefs and stood under the stream of the hot water until his skin flushed red.
As the water beat down on the back of his neck, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Once again, he found himself drawn to the woman he couldn’t have. Only this time the situation was far more of his own making. With Sophie, he never had a chance. She had always been Gavin’s. Now, he had Colette and stubbornly held himself to seeing through the commitment even as he knew they didn’t fit together the way life partners should. Even as he knew he and Felicity had the potential for something special.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As he dried off, he looked at the time. It was close to two in the morning. He was wide awake. Just where was Colette? If he could see her now, maybe he would be reminded of why he had decided they should be together again. And he needed that more than he wanted to admit to himself.
After dressing in dark wash jeans and a soft gray cotton tee shirt that clung to his defined chest, he retrieved his phone and saw multiple messages from Colette. She had texted him photos of herself in skimpy burlesque bras and panties and he smiled as he looked at them. The physical desire for her was there, of course. But he needed her to offer him more at this particular moment.
A voicemail from her that was left minutes earlier implored him to join her at a party in the Hollywood hills. She gave the address and directed him to be there within the hour.
He tied up his brown leather boots and carefully folded up the cuffs of his jeans, then adjusted his hair. He had grown out the top and had to slick it back with gel to keep it from falling to the buzzed sides. The beard growth on his face irritated him but he decided to leave it be, anxious now to see what impression he could get from Colette.
~
The cab wound up Sunset and Laurel Canyon boulevards before depositing Conor in front of a large modern home with a raw cement façade on Grand View Drive. Any gatekeepers there had been at the start of the party had fallen away and he was able to follow the music to the back of the house. A spectacular view of Los Angeles lived up to the street name as the city spread out before him. He stood for a moment mesmerized by the endless lights.
Close to two hundred people filled the large but narrow strip of backyard. Purple and pink lighting washed against the back of the house, and lounge furniture in the style of beds complete with satin sheets and throw pillows were littered across the grounds. The pool featured as entertainment a giant clear plastic ball lined with twinkle lights and a bikini-clad woman inside, contorting her body to move the contraption from one side to the other. Conor raised his eyebrows as he watched her, thinking she looked a bit like a trapped hamster. Especially as she tried to contain her panic when coming close to the infinity edge of the pool. She appeared to genuinely fear she was about to drop off onto the steep hillside below.
The house itself was open to create continuous flow between the indoors and outdoors, and Conor saw the usual party elements of
couples kissing and groping and small groups huddled to share in some cocaine or weed. A pixie of a DJ was working a house beat from on top of a small riser, doing her best to ignore the drunken guests trying to get her attention to make a request as if they were at their cousin’s wedding rather than at some movie producer’s multi-million dollar home.
A white double bar lit with neon pink lights and set up on the far side of the backyard was the natural draw for most of party-goers, including Colette.
Conor saw her before she saw him. She wore sleek black pants with a cropped and plunging glittery gold top held together by a delicate string around her neck and three more across the open back. It didn’t leave anything to the imagination. She was lost in the moment as she captivated the attention of Jackson Armstrong. With her stilettos, she was several inches taller than the actor. He didn’t seem bothered by this as he looked appreciatively at the phone she held out. She gestured to her own body as she spoke, obviously showing him the same photos of her burlesque costumes Conor had received earlier via her texts.
This didn’t exactly help assuage the doubts he was feeling about their relationship. Why did Jackson seem to be at the center of every fuckup in their recent history? Seeing him triggered an unsettling question he realized he should have asked a lot earlier.
“Colette,” he said as he approached.
She looked up and the smile she gave him was so sincere and open that he felt a wave of optimism flow over him. It was the perfect start to his search for some sign that he was doing the right thing in being with her.
“Finally, mon cher,” she murmured as she kissed and hugged him hello.
“Hey, Jack,” Conor said as he pulled away.
“Conor.” Jackson nodded. “Colette was showing me some photos of her burlesque costumes. No doubt she’ll be the star of the show.”
“Of course she will. Doesn’t she always steal the spotlight?”
“Well, she’s always impressed me, that’s for sure.”
“You filming out here, then?” Conor wrapped his arm around Colette’s small waist, his fingers brushing over her bare skin as he turned cold eyes on Jackson.
“Good to see you, too, mate.” Jackson laughed loudly and patted him on the back too genially.
“Now boys, there’s no need for any tension with one another,” she said, smiling as she toyed with her hair.
Conor knew she was eating up having the attention of both men and that type of behavior had always irritated him. Not for the first time, he wondered how he had ended up with a woman who loved drama when he loathed it.
“Listen, love,” Jackson said, “it was so good to see you again. And I mean that. You, too, Connie.” He winked at Conor before slinking away.
“Fucking arsehole,” Conor muttered as he watched Jackson disappear into a crowd near the bar.
“Don’t be jealous,” she said and kissed him.
He returned her kiss with distraction. Felicity and the heated kiss they had shared intruded on his ability to focus on Colette.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked and bit at his lip.
He pulled away and looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her hair had recently been colored to add caramel highlights and was down and full of body. The playful spark in her dark eyes traveled to her full lips. He rested his hand on her hip as he let his eyes wander to her barely concealed breasts, willing himself to concentrate on the one he was with.
“Good thing I got here when I did.”
“What? Because of Jackson?” Her smile revealed the satisfaction she got when he showed the slightest jealousy.
If her greatest pleasure was making him jealous, his was denying her that pleasure whenever possible. But he couldn’t help but ask the question that had been on his mind since he had arrived and first spotted her.
“Was he the boyfriend you had to break up with when we got back together?”
“What?”
“When I asked you to marry me, you said yes but you had to break up with your boyfriend first. Were you talking about Jack?”
“Where is this coming from?”
“I’m just interested to know, honey. Can you tell me?”
She sighed and looked away from him. “I guess I was overstating it when I said he was my boyfriend at the time. I was seeing him—and others—but he was the one I felt I should let know about us.”
He nodded and let that sink in. The confirmation of Jackson being in the picture at an inopportune time once again didn’t sit well. Yet, he couldn’t describe it as jealousy. It was more like the man had become some sort of bad omen.
Unprompted, Colette said, “Just as you and Sophie can be friends, he and I are still friends.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said mildly, determined not to rise to the bait. “Of course, you are.”
He could see her physically deflate from his lack of a response.
“If it bothers you—”
“It doesn’t, Colette. It really doesn’t. Let’s get a drink already and you can tell me about your night.”
She hesitated for a brief moment before taking his hand. “The bar’s just there.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
The knocking on the door started gently enough that Conor slept through it. Then it got louder, the insistence breaking through his slumber and he turned over in bed to face a still sleeping Colette. She lay nude on her belly, her thick hair half covering her face. He, too, was nude, though they hadn’t had sex. His appetite had left him and she had mocked him, calling him old before settling into his arms for platonic sleep.
It had only taken them the course of one drink and a shared joint at the party the night before to find the rhythm they enjoyed most with each other. That slightly buzzed, happy feeling was their sweet spot. He wasn’t delusional enough to deny that it was a pretty shallow connection. They had spent almost two hours on one of the lounge beds, her head in his lap as they tried in vain to see stars in the sky made too bright by city lights. He played his hand in her hair while they chatted about their days and made bets on whether the “hamster woman,” as he dubbed her, would ever get set free.
By the time they got back to the hotel, he was still buzzed. And feeling guilty, though not over having kissed Felicity, but rather guilty for the lack of a depth of his feelings for Colette.
Yet he still refused to allow his promise to Colette to be undone by his fickle heart. Because that’s all it was with Felicity, he told himself. He was drawn to her as an escape from the commitment he had rushed into with Colette.
The knock sounded once more on the door and he looked past Colette to the clock on the nightstand. It was close to noon.
“Conor!”
He recognized Felicity’s voice and realized he must be late to some sort of media event. Jumping up, he grabbed a pillow and used it to cover his lower half as he opened the door.
“Really? You’re not even dressed?” she asked.
“What am I missing? Can we reschedule?”
“No, that’s not how I operate. You fulfill the obligations you agreed to.”
“Are you taking me to this thing, whatever it is?”
“I have the feeling I better chaperone you otherwise you won’t make it at all,” she said.
Her eyes fell past him and he turned to see what she did: Colette’s naked, shapely legs moving in the tangle of sheets.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I need a shower. And coffee. Could you—”
“Right,” she said. “Second thought, I’ll text you the details. It’s a solo interview with GQ. With photos.”
“Wait,” he said when she started to turn away. “Come with me to this thing.”
She held his gaze for a moment, and he could see regret fill her eyes. “Thought your job—your career—was all-important to you?”
He grimaced at the dig. “You know it is. We were out late. My alarm didn’t go off.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She turned and disappeared down the hallway.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
The DJ transitioned to the remix of “I Can’t Stay Here” Felicity had heard at Jackson Armstrong’s party in London and she instinctively looked for Conor to relive the happy memory. It was an impossible task, however, as the pool deck of the hotel was overloaded with guests for Rogue’s album launch party. It had been underway for several hours. The band had already played their planned three songs and the DJ had kept the energy up ever since.
Looking out at the nightscape, Felicity saw the wide expanse that was Los Angeles. The city was an immense ocean of sparkling concrete. The vastness made her feel lonely.
The kiss the night before had made it clear that she had foolishly let herself fall for Conor. When she had gotten back to her room, a large part of her had hoped Conor would follow her. But that suggestive knock on her door never came. Instead, as evidenced by her finding him naked in his room that morning, he had obviously connected with Colette. As he should, of course, since she was the woman he intended to marry within a month. Once again, he was getting the best of both worlds without care or consequence.
What was she doing allowing such intimacy between them? She had never cheated with anyone. The boundaries she had crossed with him in the last few months shamed her. But it also made her determined to put a clear end to the games he was playing.
And then there was the matter of Richard. Was there something still there worth trying to salvage? He hadn’t followed up on his text. But she knew he would. He wasn’t the type of man to put something like that out there and not pursue it. The bigger question is what would she do when his call came?
“I see two problems here.”
Felicity turned with a start to find Jackson Armstrong looking at her expectantly.
“What’s that?”
“First, you’re standing here all alone. A girl as pretty as you should never want for company,” he told her and she couldn’t help but smile. “And second, you don’t have a drink. Shall we do something about this dreadful situation?”
Playing At Love: A Rogue Series Novel Page 25
