“Hang on.” He reached down and grabbed his jeans and pulled out a small packet from his back pocket.
I waited while he rolled the condom on, then returned to his arms. His lips brushed my good shoulder, sucked, bit, tasted. One of his hands cupped my breast, his thumb grazing my nipple and making me shiver.
“Marc. Please.”
“Please what?” His dark eyes danced with mischief but there was barely concealed need there too.
“You know what.”
I grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the bed. When my legs hit the edge of the mattress I fell back and lay there looking up at him.
He put a hand on his hip, drawing my gaze to the toned abs and powerful muscles in his thighs, then lower still to his obvious arousal for me. I felt my mouth go dry.
“So you’re just going to lie there, are you? Is that a movie star thing?”
A bubble of surprised laughter erupted from me. I loved that he could make me laugh as well as want him at the same time.
“Trust me. I won’t be lying here. Now get over here.”
His gaze darkened and he climbed on top of me, easing into me while his eyes stayed locked on me. When he filled me, we both released a gasp and rocked together.
It still wasn’t close enough.
I tipped my hips upward, meeting his slow thrust, and he groaned. I reached up and put my arms around his neck, holding on, inviting him deeper.
“Damn it, Lena.”
“Good?”
“Too good.”
With a grunt of frustration, he let go of me and lay down beside me. “Climb on.”
“Who made you the boss?” But I did as he said.
He gripped my hips as I lowered myself onto him and I shuddered at the delicious sensation of being filled by him. I started moving, long, steady strokes, and every time I did, I took him deeper.
His eyes were black in the dim light, watching me rock back and forth. I felt powerful when I was above him like this, as though I was some sort of goddess, and there was something challenging in his penetrating gaze.
This time when I came down on top of him he lifted his hips to meet me and I writhed over him, only barely able to stay sitting up. I thrust a hand onto his chest to hold myself up. His strong muscles were firm beneath my hand, also challenging me to push harder, to go deeper.
“That’s it, Princess.”
I let my head roll back so I was staring at the ceiling and we moved together, harder, faster. It was as though he wanted me to wring every last drop of pleasure from his body and I was powerless to stop myself. I needed what he had to give and was enjoying taking it from him.
The pleasure built and it became too much. It was so exquisite it hurt. Instinctively, I tried to move away, slow down, recover, but he wasn’t having any of it. His fingers dug into my hips and he increased our rhythm, meeting me stroke for stroke, making me ride him until I was senseless and tingling all over.
I felt the slow burn deep inside me, building, building, hotter and more intense with every thrust and I didn’t want to stop anymore. I took what he gave me, moving on top of him in greedy sweeps. He released his hands and a palm caught my breast and I leaned into it, milking the pleasure from his touch. Then his other hand found me wet and hot, and his fingers were on me, sure, certain, determined.
It was too much. In a rush of heat, the orgasm rocked my body, momentarily blinding and stunning me.
I cried out his name and he growled beneath me, his eyes flashing with intent. He grabbed my hips again and thrust into me. Once, twice, three times and I felt his release deep inside me. I clenched myself around him taking everything he was willing to give.
I collapsed on top of him, tremors running through me. He ran his fingers through my hair as I pressed my cheek against the salty sweet taste of the perspiration on his chest. Our bodies were slick with sweat but I didn’t care.
Who was this man who had ignited this hunger in me? I’d been greedy and demanding, and it wasn’t something I was used to. In the past, lovemaking had been more pleasant than pleasurable, sweet instead of hot.
Making love to Marc was intense in a way I’d never experienced and I wasn’t sure I could ever get enough.
“Hey, Princess.”
I smiled at the satisfaction in his deep voice.
“Hey.”
“OK?”
“OK.”
We lay there in silence for a few minutes until I found the courage to say what was on my mind.
“I wasn’t too selfish?”
His fingers untangled themselves from my hair and he eased back to look at me. “Selfish? What are you talking about?”
I suddenly felt shy. “I’ve never . . . been like that before.” At his questioning look, I sighed. “I felt like I was using you for my own pleasure.”
His deep laughter echoed around the room and my stomach tightened in response.
“Princess.” He trailed a hand down my back to rest on the curve of my hip. “Use me all you like. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll happily be your plaything.”
“I just thought you’d like to be in control.”
His smile was lazy. “When it comes to you, Lena, there is no control. I’ve got to say, I kind of like it.”
I bit my lip and brushed my fingers against the roughness of his cheek. “Me too.”
Chapter 32
I paused in the doorway on my return to the bedroom.
Wow. Well, that was quite a sight. Marc had said he wanted a portrait of me. Maybe we could request a his-and-hers deal.
Marc lay on his back in the center of my bed, like he owned it. The thought sent a thrill of pleasure through me. The white sheets contrasted his olive skin and the morning sun coming in the window highlighted the contours of his abs and chest. My gaze hovered to where the sheet lay on his hips, preserving his dignity, but only just.
“You’re staring.”
Oops. Sprung. “You’re awake. I thought you were asleep.”
“I always sleep with one eye open. Habit.”
“From the Marines?” I walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers itching to pull down the sheet. I felt my skin heat at the way his eyes took in the sheer slip of fabric I was wearing. I’d put it on this morning when he was still asleep. Now that I saw his appreciative expression, I was glad I had.
‘Yeah. It’s kind of a nice change to be woken by a horny woman.”
“Who said I was horny?”
His lips curled in the most deliciously evil grin. “I know a horny woman when I see one.”
“Oh, really? Maybe I was wondering how to get my bed back.”
“No, you weren’t. You were thinking of pulling down the sheet.”
My face flushed and I laughed. God, had I been that obvious? “I thought I was a better actress than that.”
“You like that you don’t have to act around me.”
My smile faded. “True.” And I certainly hadn’t been acting last night. That had been one hundred percent heartfelt.
“Does that bother you?” His dark eyes were measuring me in that way he had.
“What? No.” I fingered the edge of the sheet. “It’s just new to me, I guess.” And it was. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so exposed and accepted as I did last night.
“Better get used to it, Princess.”
The warm feeling returned and so did my smile. “I think I can handle that. You?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” As if to prove his point, he put his hands behind his head drawing my eyes to his bulging biceps.
“Where do you live, anyway?” Until now, I hadn’t had much time to think about things like that. I’d been too busy trying to figure him out and stop denying my feelings for him. Now I was keen to learn more.
“A small condo in Santa Monica within walking distance of the beach.”
“Do you like the beach?”
“I grew up surfing.”
I thought about it for a second a
nd had to admit it fit. “Do you still surf?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
“Where’s your office?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What? You think because you have sex with me I’ll reveal all my secrets?”
My mouth fell open and he laughed, a soft, low rumble that made my stomach flip.
“I’m joking, Lena. Our office is in Downtown LA. What else would you like to know?”
I suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to know everything about him. All of it, and it was hard to know where to start, but one question nagged at me. “Is that why you were always so . . . reserved? Because I was a client?”
“You mean I was a cold, hard bastard to you?” I saw something flash in his eyes when he said it. Now I knew him better I recognized it as discomfort.
“Well, I didn’t say it, you did. But yes, your client relations were . . . a little on the cold side.”
Marc grimaced. “It was necessary.”
“Why?” Maybe I was naïve, but I couldn’t fathom why he would try so hard to distance himself.
He sat up and to my disappointment, took the sheet with him. “What do you know about the Marines?”
“Not too much. Just that you’re different from the regular army.”
He nodded. “What about the training?”
“It’s tough?” I shrugged, feeling embarrassed that I knew very little about the men who protected our country.
“It’s the toughest of all the military branches. Physically, you have to be at peak fitness, but it’s mental, too.” Marc tapped a finger to the side of his head. “It’s like a complete reboot. I walked in a young, rebellious kid and came out a disciplined killer.”
I swallowed at the hard look in his eyes and hesitated before I asked my next question, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. “Is that why you wanted to become a Marine?”
“To kill? No. I wanted to protect, to do something worthy. For weeks on end the Drill Instructors abused us until they were satisfied we had what it takes.”
“Abuse you?” Marc wasn’t the sort of guy who exaggerated, but that sounded kind of harsh.
“Verbal abuse, tirades, physical demands that showed no mercy. It’s unrelenting.”
“Why would you put yourself through that?”
He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I could ask you the same question: why do you put yourself through the constant media abuse and risks to your safety? Because you feel you’re doing something worthy.”
It was the first time I had heard Marc hint at the fact I was doing something meaningful, but we weren’t talking about me. I wanted to take this chance to learn more about him. “How did you survive?”
“Despite the constant abuse, I liked the discipline. It made sense to me. I even grew to rely on the abuse.”
“That sounds . . . ”
“Sick? It’s not. It’s proven that responding to orders in times of stress can be the difference between living or dying. There’s no panic, just orders and training you know you can rely on. Like I said, it’s a total reboot. And quite ironic for a high school rebel like me.”
“You liked the discipline,” I said, understanding him a little bit more.
“I still do. It’s why I’m tough with some of my clients when the situation calls for it.”
My eyes widened. “You’re like the Drill Instructor. But why?”
Marc looked down at my hands and threaded his fingers through mine. “When we’re training, the Drill Instructors are the enemy. They’re not on our side. They’re trying to break us to see if we can survive, because when we’re on the ground, the enemy sure as hell aren’t going to show us any mercy.”
“You were deliberately hard on me,” I said, beginning to understand.
He nodded. “Because I had to be. It was better you thought of me as the enemy rather than picturing some faceless evil coming to get you.”
“You could have been reassuring and sympathetic,” I suggested, and laughed when Marc winced. “Not your style, I know. But this is Hollywood, Marc, not the Marines.”
“My adjustment issues aside, it works, Lena. You spent most of the time pissed at me instead of scared shitless. Your survival instincts kicked in to my imaginary threat.”
My mouth dropped open and I punched him in the arm. I’d like to say it was soft, but it wasn’t. I knew he could take it.
He gave me a cocky grin. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“But I thought I hated you!”
He reached over and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “Better you hate me than be scared, Princess.”
He leaned in and gave me the sweetest of kisses and I almost let myself be carried away by the moment, but forced myself to ease away. “Marc?”
“Yeah?” He was still rubbing his thumb across my skin and contemplating my lips like he wanted to eat me up.
“When did you stop hating me?”
His thumb stilled and he looked at me properly. “Lena, I never hated you.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he said firmly. “You drove me crazy sometimes when you didn’t do what you were told, but I never hated you.”
I smiled at the memory. “I wouldn’t make a very good Marine.”
“No, you wouldn’t, but you make a damn fine actress and I’m sorry I haven’t said it sooner.”
I nodded, feeling all choked up. “Thank you. When did you start having feelings for me? Maybe you’d make a good actor after all.”
He blinked as if he appeared surprised by the question, then stroked my cheek again. “It was no one time. I guess you kind of grew on me. You?”
“I’m not sure either,” I answered honestly, then grinned. “Although maybe it was when I saw you stride across the beach in those ridiculous tight shorts during filming that day.”
He grinned back then gave me a light slap on my backside, making me cry out.
“You love me for my body, is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, you do have a fine body . . . ”
“Alright, then. Why don’t you come here and make good use of it?”
Our grins faded and he pulled me on top of him, and that was how we spent the rest of the morning.
Chapter 33
I cast a fond look around the set in front of me. It was the last day of filming and the feeling was jubilant. The final scenes were to be filmed in Jean’s ‘house’ and then we would be done. It would be a long time before we saw the fruits of our labor, but I knew we had created good work. It hadn’t been easy. There’d been the forced break due to my injury and all the other usual hiccups that came with a massive production.
I patted my hair. I was going to miss these fashionable 60s do’s. If only they were still on trend. It was why I’d chosen a 60s theme for the party tomorrow night. It would be a chance to dress up again and have some fun seeing the rest of the crew in costume.
“Making headlines again, I see?” Chloe said, throwing me a coy look and waving from her position on the retro sofa.
I walked over to her and frowned. “You’re not talking about my father are you?” I hadn’t thought about him lately. I’d been too distracted by Marc and wrapping up the production to mull over it anymore. To my relief, things had finally started to die down, probably because I suspected he’d received a heap of money from the media for his tell-all stories.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Chloe rushed on. “You and lover boy.”
“Oh.” I blushed, damn it. Lover boy was right. Marc had made a point of picking me up from the studio all this week and had stayed every night. “Where?”
Chloe beamed at me. “Every media outlet there is. Apparently you and Nathan enjoyed the Chili Peppers concert.”
I couldn’t help myself and beamed back. “Yeah, it was good.”
“Good! The way your lips were locked I’m surprised you saw any of it!”
I gestured for her to quiet down. “They got photos? I thought we were really care
ful.”
Chloe rolled her eyes at me. “They always get photos. Although I’m surprised you even knew where you were. It looks like you only had eyes for each other.”
“Damn.” That would mean my publicist’s phone would be ringing hot, and Marc’s phone too. I wondered if Marc had deliberately avoided telling me we’d been caught on camera.
Chloe’s grin faded. “I guess you haven’t heard the media are calling Marc the ‘mystery man’ then?”
“What? No. Why would they call him that?”
“Some enterprising celebrity journalist has figured out Nathan isn’t his real name.”
“Shit.” I lowered myself onto the sofa next to her.
“Don’t worry too much yet. They haven’t been able to find out who he really is. Marc’s obviously too careful for that. The current speculation is he’s a member of your team.”
“What? Like my security team?” This was worse than I thought. If they suspected he was a bodyguard or similar, it wouldn’t be long until they figured out his real identity.
“No. Get this.” Chloe’s blue eyes danced with amusement. “They’re suggesting he’s your personal assistant.”
My mouth dropped open and Chloe started giggling uncontrollably. “I know, right?” she said, when she had caught her breath. “That he’s a toy boy you’re keeping around for his good looks.”
I couldn’t help myself and clamped a hand to my mouth, barely able to restrain my own laughter. Marc would just love this. Actually, he would hate it, but that only made it more amusing. Plus, I was also extremely relieved the media were so far off the mark because I knew how important Marc’s privacy was to him.
Ben strolled over and we both did our best to keep straight faces.
“Hey, Ben. Ready to wrap things up?” I asked.
He was looking stylish in his plaid trousers and expertly coiffed sandy hair. It was a testament to his good looks that he could carry the pants off and still appear gorgeous. “You bet. Feels a bit sad though, doesn’t it?”
“It always does,” said Chloe. “Or do you mean you’re sad about not getting to wear this fantastic wardrobe again?”
Heartbreaker (Hollywood Hearts Book 2) Page 21
