More murmurs and hands. Evan pointed at a woman on the other side of the room. She stood, dressed in a conservative suit, hair combed back in a tight bun. All business, all the time. “Delilah Cortez. Considering the invasion of privacy, are you planning to pursue charges?”
Evan’s smile fell, and he nodded gravely. “To be honest, Ms. Cortez, we discussed it, but neither of us wants to waste the time looking for the perpetrator. We did, of course, report the incident to the authorities and everyone involved with The Game Maker. Since it’s possible this could affect the movie release, the studio is obviously very interested in punishing the guilty party. If a suspect is found, we’ll likely move ahead with charges, but I’d rather enjoy the time with my fiancée than focus on hunting for the people behind this.”
A hand shot up at the far end of the room, and Stasia nudged Evan. “In the back, Lissa Jensen, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Stone.” Lissa stepped forward a bit so the camera crew with her could catch her profile as she spoke. “You mentioned concern that this would harm the release of your new film. Is it possible the opposite might happen? That once the world realizes it was nothing more than a happy, committed couple enjoying an intimate moment, it could actually help ticket sales?”
Evan shrugged. “Of course, it’s possible. The studio can’t bank on that, though.”
The implied and neither can I hung in the air. Stasia motioned for the microphone, and Evan twisted it toward her. “The problem, Miss Jensen, is that while true love conquers all is a common theme in the movies, real life doesn’t always follow suit.”
The conference continued on, but Lissa’s gaze never left Stasia’s after that, and she was fairly certain by the time everyone filtered out, reality was weighing heavy on the both of them.
…
The press conference had gone well enough that Evan had managed to convince Stasia to go out again. Her only requirement had been no more nightclubs, which worked out well since he’d gotten them tickets to see Zumanity. Walking through New York, New York, she tensed every time anyone glanced her way.
Evan leaned close, whispering in her ear, “Babe, you look amazing. Stop assuming everyone who’s looking at you is picturing you naked.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes.” He laughed, gathering her close. Her reactions at the press conference had made him feel more secure in her hatred of Travers. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that, at the very least, Stasia would walk away from this week and leave her ex far, far behind her. “If it isn’t working, though, how about knowing every time I look at you, I am picturing you naked.”
“So much for looking amazing.”
“My statement doesn’t make that less true. It just means you look amazing naked, too.”
A bright flush rose in Stasia’s cheeks, staining them nearly the same color as they were whenever they finished having sex. “I suppose I should take solace in the fact that none of the comments on those blogs disagreed with you.”
Evan handed over their tickets and then ushered her inside. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to read the comments?” His eyes darted from one side to the other, ensuring no one was listening in. “Did they say anything about me?”
“First you say I shouldn’t read them, then you want to know what they said?”
“Pretty much.”
Stasia rolled her eyes. “And they say women are fickle. You’re fine. The women want to know how I got so lucky. The men want to know how you did.”
They wove through a sea of people, making their way to a pair of seats in the front. At least the comments had been positive all around. He hated to think what kind of state Stasia would’ve been in otherwise. He’d made the mistake of reading comments on the internet early in his career. Never again.
Settling into her seat, she frowned at the program cover. “Which show is this one again?”
Oh boy. “Uh, the adults-only one.”
“Great. Sex on top of the leaked sex tape? We’re going to get one hell of a reputation.”
“Last I checked, I already had one.”
She swatted his arm with the program before opening it. “Well, lover boy, this is all new territory for me.”
Oddly enough, this new one painted him in a much better light. He only hoped it wasn’t too damaging to Stasia in the long run. That would be a major unforeseen outcome with their big plan. Of course, if there were some way to make all of this real, the sex would probably fade into the background. But there wasn’t. He swallowed hard as he remembered that first conversation with Jessica where she’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that a long-term relationship outside of Hollywood would kill his flagging career. He needed to give them back the bad boy with the heart of gold. Getting married? Settling down? That would put the last nail in his coffin. Especially if The Game Maker wasn’t a hit. Nothing was ever as simple as it should’ve been.
And the reminder made him second-guess his decision to tell Stasia how he felt. No matter what Tom had said, Evan couldn’t see how telling her he was falling for her, but still had to walk away, would go over well. He had no plan for the future—not one where they could stay together. Maybe it was better to just leave things alone, enjoy what they had, while they had it, and leave with happy memories of each other and their friendship intact.
The lights dimmed and music started. They’d done all the damage control they could this afternoon. Time to stop worrying about what he couldn’t have. Tonight, he was just going to enjoy the evening out with Stasia before he reminded her about their interview with Paul tomorrow—the one she’d seemed certain would be their undoing, the one her ex had clearly planned for after the photos hit the internet.
Evan couldn’t help but wonder which way that interview was going to spin now that they’d already dealt with the scandal. Soon enough, the display in front of them had him distracted from thoughts of Paul Travers and his idiocy.
Within a few minutes, Stasia was gripping his fingers in a way that had him watching her rather than the act. Her mouth was parted as she gaped at the stage. The expression was one of wide-eyed innocence, but her breath was coming in tiny gasps, making the entire thing far sexier than it should have been. Against his will, his dick started to react.
Wrong place, wrong time.
He tore his gaze from her and turned back to the action on the stage. It should have been an improvement, but it wasn’t. With her fingers twined in his, he felt her reaction to every move the performers made. The things that turned her on made her fingers clench gently, then release, over and over again. If something bothered her, she twitched, almost as if her hand were flinching. Then came the scene where she squeezed his fingers as tightly as she did when she orgasmed.
There was no help for it—he was wearing a hard-on the rest of the night until an opportunity arose to take care of it. He thanked his lucky stars the show was only ninety minutes long. By the time people stood to leave, he wanted to get a room here again, just to avoid the cab ride back to the Palazzo. Then he caught sight of Stasia’s flushed cheeks and hooded eyes, and he realized that nothing would be better than a repeat of their first night…with the fucking curtains shut this time.
Stasia had other ideas, though. “I…” She cleared her throat as she stood. “Is it okay if we make a stop on the way back?”
Hell no. The words were on his lips, but something in her eyes said he’d regret saying them. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
As soon as they were settled into the cab, she leaned forward, holding the program, and pointed at an ad. “We want to go here. Do you know where that is?”
“No problem, miss,” the driver said.
The program flipped shut before Evan managed to catch a glimpse. Casting her gaze to the side, Stasia avoided his stare, but only until he turned her back toward him and asked, “What are you up to?”
“Nothing much. Just don’t get mad, okay?”
Like he could get mad at her after the
day they’d had.
The driver stopped at the entrance to Aria. “Second floor. Do you want me to wait for you?”
“Could you?” Stasia asked. “I promise we won’t be long.”
Still very confused, Evan paid the driver for the distance he’d already gone and then helped Stasia from the cab. Now, she was grinning, but her cheeks were still flushed like she was embarrassed. Evan let her lead the way through shops until they passed through an entrance to someplace called Kiki de Montparnasse. He did a double take at the window display. “Was that mannequin holding a riding crop?”
The answer came as soon as they stepped inside. It was a lingerie and sex shop. High end to the extreme, but it was definitely a sex shop. Stasia bit her lip as she turned to him. “The ad said they sold ribbons like the one performer was wearing…”
The part where she’d crushed his hand. His cock twitched, and Evan hailed the nearest salesperson. “We need ribbons. And maybe a couple other things.”
When they got back to their waiting cab, Evan counted the seconds back to the Palazzo. Then he counted the steps until they made it to the suite. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he pointed at the bag. “Lingerie. Now.”
Dropping their purchases, Stasia smiled sweetly. “I had a feeling you’d say that, so I had them bag the box.” Then, with shaking fingers, she slowly unzipped her dress and let it fall into a puddle on the floor. Black French silk and handcrafted lace cradled her breasts and barely covered her pussy. That coupled with the bold red heels was a sight he would never get enough of.
Biting her lip, clearly nervous, she stepped from the circle of her dress and moved seductively toward him. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw before running lower, skipping over the buttons of his shirt. “You were so amazing about everything that’s happened. You even managed to make being caught on tape feel sexy.”
He licked his lips, trying to keep control over himself and let her play this out the way she wanted. “I want you happy, babe. Whatever it takes.”
Deft fingers slid his belt free and undid the button of his slacks. “What would make me incredibly happy right now is to get down on my knees and show you exactly how much I appreciate the way you make me feel.”
Cupping her face, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his, tasting, claiming it. When they parted, he tangled one hand into the curls tumbling down her back. “That would make me very happy, too.”
Embarrassment vanishing, a saucy grin crossed her face. She sank to her knees, eased down his zipper, and freed his cock. Her eyes hooded with want, she let her fingertips graze over the skin softly, and he hissed in a breath. Licking her lips seductively, she stroked him until he tangled his fingers in her hair. Then, with only the slightest urging, she leaned in and traced lazy circles around his head with her tongue. The pace was torturous to the point he thought he’d explode, but she just seemed to be waiting for a response from him. The instant his fingers clenched in her hair, she took him deep in her mouth, sucking on his length as she withdrew. The whole time, her eyes were locked on his.
It was too much. After sitting through the show, wanting to take her, he couldn’t handle much more of this. “Stasia…”
For a second, her lips twitched as if she were trying to smile around his cock, and then she drew him even farther into her mouth, her tongue flicking at the vein running the length of his dick.
And then she swallowed, the muscles of her mouth and throat contracting on him. He tried to step away, but she grabbed his ass, locking him in place. He couldn’t hold back anymore, not with her like this.
His grip on her hair tightened as his body went rigid. Stars burst behind his eyelids, and it felt like he came forever, every contraction of her throat as she swallowed drawing more from him. Letting go of Stasia, he held onto the wall until the world settled around him.
She rose from her knees, zipping his pants but not bothering with the button. “Thank you.”
“No, babe. Thank you.” He thought of the ribbons in the box, along with the other things they’d bought. “Is there anything I can do to make you happy?”
“Yes.” She turned toward the bedroom, her lace-covered ass swinging from side to side. “You can tie me up, blindfold me, and have your wicked way with me for the rest of the night.”
Hot damn. The guys who’d commented on the blog were right; he was the luckiest man alive.
And he was wrong. There was definitely something better than reliving that first night together. He was about to have the opportunity to experience it.
Chapter Eleven
Stasia woke in the morning with the red silk ribbon still tied around her wrists. She’d been so spent by the time they’d finished last night, Evan could have left her tied to the bed, and she wouldn’t have cared. Stretching languidly, her fingers brushed something soft, and she grinned.
Time for Evan’s wake-up call.
She found the lambskin handle and inched the tickler into useable range. Marabou or feather? Marabou or feather? Hindsight made her regret not asking him to pick up the leather cuffs, too. She didn’t have the knot skills to secure him with the ribbons before he woke. Oh well.
The tip of the feather ran down the center of his chest, and he twitched in his sleep. When circling his nipples didn’t wake him, she shifted the blanket and applied the feather to his cock.
The next thing she knew, she was pinned on her back, tickler still in hand, Evan perched over her and blinking sleep from his eyes.
“Babe? What are you doing?”
“Saying good morning?”
“Really?” he growled, dropping down to nip at the spot on her neck that turned her to putty in his hands. “There are better ways to wake me up.”
“I don’t know. This way seems to have worked out okay.” Better than okay if the way his dick pressed against her was any indication.
“What time is it?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced toward the clock, but it was turned the other way.
“We do have a schedule to keep, you know.” The way he trailed kisses down her throat and sucked her nipple into his mouth said he didn’t care about the schedule much more than she did. But it was his career they were talking about—and their plan.
“Quickie?”
“I don’t know, I’m thinking about tying you up and tormenting you until it’s time to leave for our interview with Paul and Lissa. That way you won’t be able to keep your hands off me for the whole show.”
Mention of her ex should have been like being doused with ice water, but at the moment, she didn’t care. Paul had taken enough from her. He didn’t matter, only right now with Evan did. “You wouldn’t.”
He chuckled against her breast. “More like I couldn’t. You turn my world upside down until I only know which way is up because it’s where you are. You’re kind of addictive, babe.”
The words he said weren’t fairy-tale compliments—the kind little girls were programmed from childhood to find romantic. Still, when he talked about her, she felt precious, cherished, all the things she should have felt with her husband but never had.
Reality started creeping in again. It was Tuesday. The premiere was Thursday night. There wasn’t nearly enough time left to work Evan out of her system. She didn’t want it to be over, but this had been a business arrangement for him. A way to bolster his reputation, and then he was going to walk away. It was what she’d agreed to.
And she didn’t want to think about it.
No. She wanted to change it—she just didn’t know how she could.
Flipping the tickler in her hand, she brought the marabou puff near his face and blew.
He pinned her wrists to the bed. “What was that for?”
“I need you.” Not least of all because there wouldn’t be many more opportunities. She wished he was as addicted to her as she was him, but she’d given up on wishes a long time ago. For now, she’d take the time she had left and try to pretend it was enough.
&
nbsp; “I can get on board with this plan, but if anyone’s using the tickler, it’s me.” And the man certainly knew how to use it. Stasia nodded, and before she could do anything else, he’d tossed the thing aside and was messing with the ribbons. Then her hands were crossed at the wrists, and he tucked them under her neck. “That’ll do for today.”
It seemed silly. She did plenty of crunches, so the position should have been simple to get out of. But her hair was trapped under her wrists. With him on top of her, she couldn’t manage enough leverage to move off her hair and free her hands from under her head.
“You can wiggle all you want, babe. I’m a little hungry, though.” He kept her pinned to the mattress as his hands played with her breasts. His head, however, dipped between her legs, and his tongue delved into her folds.
Her breath caught. He’d done this last night with the blindfold on and she’d nearly lost her mind. Her body clearly remembered the intensity of the sensations because her hips were off the mattress in seconds, as she tried to get closer to him. The irony of how the motion secured her bonds even more wasn’t lost on her, but she didn’t care.
Evan hadn’t been entirely kidding about torturing her. His tongue kept drawing her higher and higher, but he never pushed her over the edge—she’d never considered how easy it was for him to keep her right where he wanted her. When she started whimpering with need, he raised his head and crawled onto the bed, keeping her legs spread with his body.
“Do you have any idea how much I hate being tickled? Much less tickled awake?”
No, but she wished she’d have the opportunity to learn all the ways he loved and hated being woken up. The thought made words impossible as she choked down the sadness building in her throat, so she shook her head.
His lips twisted into a smirk. “You’re about to learn.”
The tickler was in his hand a second later, the feather running down the insides of her thighs. She tried to press them together, but Evan had placed himself near her knees. She couldn’t close her legs any more than she could free her hands.
Tempting Her Fake Fiance Page 13
