Incidental Happenstance

by DeSalvo, Kim

  She smiled. “What, this old thing?” she laughed, submerging herself into the warm bubbles. “You like it?”

  “Oh, I like it, alright.” He’d like it a lot better off, he thought, but he’d made a promise, and he meant to keep it.

  He handed her a glass of wine and draped his arm around her, pulling her close. Damn, he thought, looking down into the bubbles that churned and pulsed with light and seeing the swell of her breasts floating just below the surface. He massaged her neck, and felt the tiny string that with just a little tug would release them to his gaze, his hands, and especially his mouth. This wasn’t going to be easy, he thought. If it wasn’t for that bitch of an actress planting the seed that all he wanted from her was night in the sack, he wouldn’t have this problem. He’d let things move at their own pace, and worry about the consequences later. But he’d seen the look on her face when that Valentine woman said the hateful words, and had seen just a moment of question and hesitation in her eyes. He respected Tia, and wanted her to know it, so even when his finger tangled in the string, he wiggled it free without releasing the knot. It might have been easier if she hadn’t worn a bikini, but he doubted it. She could be in ski pants and a bulky coat right now and he’d still want her. And when she moaned with pleasure and leaned back into the slow relaxing circles he was rubbing into her shoulders, kissing her wasn’t an option. He had to do it.

  She felt him shift just a bit and knew the kiss was coming. She’d been half hoping that he’d pull the string of her bikini and send it floating to the other side of the hot tub, but apparently he was determined to be the gentleman. What she really wanted was for him to take her right there, to put out the fires that burned inside her. The feel of his skin against hers was distracting, to say the least, and she knew she wanted him; knew that if he started things she would continue them and follow through all the way to the end. But was it enough? She’d been wrestling with the thoughts all day, and still didn’t have a good answer. There wasn’t any good answer, really. It would be only hours now and then he’d be leaving and she knew he had to go; didn’t have a choice, but wondered if it would be different if he was just some random guy that she’d met who lived in the area. She was sure that it would be, and that was the hardest part. If they had time to really get to know one another, she felt quite certain that they would at least give a relationship a shot.

  One night with him, she thought, would never be enough. And if they were as hot in bed as they were out of it, she’d spend the rest of her life longing for something that could never be, and then she’d never get herself back on track. Even without that next step she knew that she’d compare every guy she met to Dylan, and she was truly afraid that no one would ever measure up. But on the other hand, if she didn’t take the chance, she’d spend the rest of her life wondering what it would have been like, and she’d still compare every guy to him. She’d see him on the covers of magazines and from a distance at his shows, or from a theater seat or her couch as she watched one of his movies—and the longing would be there, always, out of reach and out of her league.

  Oh, but when he kissed her, when his soft, full lips brushed hers as she closed her eyes to enjoy the feel of his hands on so much bare skin, she could push that all aside and just enjoy the moment, splaying her hands along the contours of his chest and swirling her fingertips through the hair that curled in the water. She pressed herself closer, and heard his breath catch and his breathing change and knew that he was feeling this too, that maybe it was beyond their control, his hands sliding down her back as she turned to return the kiss, and as he reached around her to touch her bare stomach, there was no thought, no compromise, no regret, no tomorrow, and the volcano that had been brewing inside of her since their first kiss erupted. She kissed him back feverishly, and rolled over to press herself against him. It had been so long, and her body was responding on its own with no direction from her brain, knowing only that it craved contact, intimacy, lovemaking, and she was just about to surrender everything when Dylan put his hands on her waist and pushed her away, gasping for breath.

  She could see the conflict in his eyes and the fire that blazed there, and tried to move closer to show him that it was OK, she wanted this too, but he stood up and stepped out of the tub. “Bloody hell,” he whistled under his breath. “It’s getting hot in here. I think I need a shower,” and he rushed off before Tia could say a word, closing the sliding door and stepping into his own room.

  For a moment she just sat there, the bubbles continuing to churn around her now aching body, hoping the heat would relax her tensed and coiled muscles but knowing now that Dylan either didn’t want to take the next step, or was determined to keep his promise to her. She knew that ice was the only thing that was going to tramp down the fire that burned inside her, and she slipped out of the tub and into her room for her own cold shower.

  When she finally stepped out of the marble stall, shivering, she contemplated the outfits she’d packed for the night, sadly putting aside the lingerie in favor of a pair of old sweats and a faded InHap t-shirt and returned to the couch and her now warm glass of wine.

  Dylan stood under the icy water for a long time, letting it drip into his face, but with his eyes closed, all he could see was Tia in her tiny bikini and that wasn’t helping his situation any. God, he wanted her so badly, and he was so close to losing control. He could see her eyes, the droopy, half-lidded look of passion she’d worn as he just managed to pull away from her before he lost himself completely. He could almost feel the steam rising from his naked flesh, and the heat that raged within him couldn’t be tamed by the cold water. When he finally emerged, he decided that the only thing to do would be to call it a night. It was pretty late; nearly three in the morning, but he hadn’t planned on sleeping much tonight knowing that they’d be saying goodbye in just a few hours. But being close to her was not an option if he was going to follow through on his promise to be a gentleman—he’d lose control for sure and didn’t want to leave her with any regrets—it wasn’t fair to either of them, really. In the morning things would look different, he’d be leaving, and they’d have to say their goodbyes.

  That dark cloud hung on him like a storm, and he wondered if he’d be able to deal with it any better when the time actually came to walk away. He seriously doubted it. He pulled on a pair of old lounge pants and a t-shirt, and stepped back out into the living room. She was already on the couch, her hair wet from the shower and her face scrubbed clean. Thankfully, she wore baggy sweat pants and an old InHap shirt, and he remembered he had a little gift for her and went back into the room to retrieve it. It was nothing, really, just a concert t-shirt from this current tour that would make a little souvenir—he’d figured he’d sign it with a nice message, which seemed really stupid now. It had his name written across the front, with the band name beneath and a picture of his guitar. As if that would be enough to remind her of their time together. As if they’d had enough time.

  He tossed the shirt to her. “That shirt’s like, five years old. How about a new one?”

  She held it up in front of her. “Thanks,” she replied. “It’s great.”

  This is awkward, he thought. He figured he’d better say goodnight now, before he changed his mind. If he was going to keep his vow, it was the only way.

  “So, I’m pretty wiped,” he said. “What do you say we plan for an early breakfast in the morning so we can have…” he paused, “…some more time?”

  “Yeah, OK,” she replied softly, respecting his wishes. If he was determined that they not spend the night together, she’d have to find a way to deal with it. “Goodnight, then.” She rose from the couch and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, then went into her room without looking back. It was all he could do not to grab her and pull her back—but he watched in silence until she closed the door, then turned and entered his own room.

  Bloody hell, he thought. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared out the window at the Lake in the distance and th
e Chicago skyline to the north. There was no way he was going to get a wink of sleep tonight, not when all he could think of was the woman in the next room.

  He’d never met anyone like her. Hitting it big at a young age had its disadvantages. He found out quickly that you couldn’t trust women when you were constantly in the limelight. There was always an agenda. None of them cared for him, not really. Penelope was right about one thing—it was damned near impossible to have normal relationships when you were a star.

  But Tia was different. He’d never felt so comfortable with a woman, even in his younger, awkward days. He was able to be himself with her, and he trusted her honesty completely. Before meeting her, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so openly, or just been silly with someone. It was so easy to let his guard down with her, and he was certain that she would never make him sorry for it. It just felt plain good to be with her—it felt so right to hold her hand, and holding her brought out something in him that he’d often feared he’d never feel.

  And she was in the next room. In bed. Every fiber of his being ached to go to her—to take things to the ultimate level and to feel safe doing so. God, it had been so hard to walk away from her tonight. But he’d made a promise that he wouldn’t take advantage, and he’d just barely managed to pull himself away before that promise went out the window. He could feel the energy of her in the next room, and still had the scent of her on his skin from their brief goodnight; the taste of her in his mouth.

  He peeled off the t-shirt, leaned back on the bed, and picked up his guitar. Usually, playing soothed away any bad feelings and lifted him to a different place. He strummed a few notes. Maybe he’d write a song for her, about her, but all the words that came into his mind had to do with making love to her, holding her, kissing her, and just thinking about it made him feel even worse. The only thing worse than not having her here with him in his bed was knowing that tomorrow he’d have to walk away. He thought of her going back to her life without him, back to the country club with Lexi and Paddy’s, back to her job…

  He bolted upright as an idea suddenly sprouted in his mind, and he wondered why he hadn’t considered it before. He’d been so busy thinking about telling her goodbye, that he hadn’t been thinking about anything else. It lifted his spirits immediately, and he made the decision instantly. There was no question in his mind—he couldn’t just walk away from her tomorrow and let her be gone from his life. He’d ask her in the morning, and hoped to God that she’d say yes.

  But perhaps a bit of tea now, to maybe stop his blood from boiling and allow him a couple precious hours of sleep…

  Stupid, stupid! Tia thought. She’d completely blown it. Now Dylan was in the room on the other side of the suite; so close, but so far away. She was still raging inside, and she peeled off her clothes and climbed into the huge bed, so empty with just her in it. But the soft Egyptian cotton was torture against her erect nipples, and she climbed out and picked up the t-shirt Dylan had given her. He must have had it in with his own things, because it smelled of him, and she held it to her face and inhaled his scent deeply before slipping it on.

  She stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection. She could see the flush in her cheeks—she felt as though she were on fire. Across her chest read Dylan’s name, and she imagined “Property Of” being written above it. She was, now. She felt as though she belonged to him. But she had to make that feeling go away. There was no sense in feeling it when he was going to say goodbye in the morning and she might not ever see him again. She felt so conflicted—she wanted him desperately, and wanted to give herself over to him, but he was right, and he was stronger than she was, obviously; if they took it further it would be even harder then to watch him walk out of her life, probably forever.

  He’d made a promise not to use her for a notch in his bedpost, so to speak, but that wasn’t the way he made her feel. When he held her, she felt as though there was no other woman in the world, and she trusted her heart to him. Should she go and knock on his door? Oh, God, she was so tempted to do just that—she was falling for him. Yeah right, she thought, she’d already fallen. And she’d known him what, a little over 48 hours? She’d thought it would take months, maybe even years to feel this way about another man, and now she wondered sadly if she could ever feel it again for anyone else.

  There was little chance that she would sleep tonight, with him just a few feet away, alone in his own bed. She paced the room, and decided that maybe some tea would help to relax her anxious heart. There was a tea service right outside the rooms—surely they had something herbal and decaffeinated to help her at least lie still for an hour or two. She’d have to figure out the rest tomorrow, when they said their goodbyes.

  Chapter 18

  She stepped out into the corridor and set the tea maker on heat. It took only a couple minutes for the water to boil, and she placed a chamomile tea bag into one of the large mugs that sat on the table. No sooner did the heater begin to sound that it had completed its cycle than Dylan stepped out of the far door, shirtless and wearing lounge pants that hung low on his hips, accentuating his flat stomach and the ‘v’ that led the fine line of hair down into his waistband. Damn, he was incredibly sexy, his eyes lidded and lips slightly parted.

  He stood in the foyer for a moment and just stared at her, the intensity of his gaze pouring over every part of her and leaving no doubt about the desire that simmered there, just below the surface. Her breath quickened and the volcano bubbled, her blood pulsing like hot lava through her veins. The air in the room suddenly sizzled with electricity—she could almost hear the crackle and could definitely feel the hum vibrating against her skin. She stared back, unable to pull her eyes from him.

  Oh God, he thought. She was just standing there, looking back at him with her lids drooping and his name emblazoned across her breasts, a tiny v of sexy black silk just visible below the t-shirt. One word pounded in his brain like a heartbeat. Mine. His breath caught in his throat on a low moan and his heart hammered against his chest. In an instant, his entire body reacted as if she were already in his arms.

  It seemed that neither of them moved, but suddenly they were joined in the middle of the room, locked in a passionate embrace. He murmured, “Oh hell,” and they were connected, his mouth taking hers hungrily, possessively. He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her ass in his hands and pulling her against him roughly, and she clearly felt his own need—hard and heavy—pressing insistently against her stomach. There was no pulling back now, for either of them, as the passion grew and desperate need flooded them both. Their tongues melded in the smolder of their embrace, and the heat rose to immeasurable proportions. Tia felt herself give way; felt the dampness in the scant panties that she wore underneath the thin t-shirt that barely contained her swollen breasts.

  The kisses drove deeper, and Dylan’s hands were everywhere at once, sliding up the t to stroke her tensed nipples with the rough pad of his thumb, skimming down her back, grazing up her throat where her pulse hammered to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling her in deeper still until the heat that was rising in her threatened to explode. Suddenly, Dylan pulled away and his gaze burned into hers, the heavy lids betraying the passion that consumed him.

  “Oh God, Tia,” he murmured. “If you don’t want this, you need to walk away right now and lock the door, because I’m all out of self-control.”

  She looked into his burning eyes, fiery flakes of amber sprinkled amongst the blue. She couldn’t walk away now, she knew that, and if this was all she could have of him, she would take it, gratefully, and worry about the rest later. “I want this,” she whispered. “I need this,” she added in a voice that sounded nothing like her own, and he responded in an instant, sliding his hand beneath the panties to find her wet, willing, and ready. She cried out the instant his finger slid into her, pushing herself against his hand to drive him deeper. He moaned deep in his throat and she responded with a low growl that seemed to vibrate through her en
tire being. Her body was responding too fast, too naturally, and she tried to rein back the intensity as she clung to him, sliding her hand down to his core to feel his own need, stroking him without inhibition, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of her to fill her with what she’d been missing for so long.

  “I want you in my bed,” he growled against her ear as he scooped her up and carried her into his room. She cried out softly, “Yes, Dylan,” as he tossed her on the bed and crushed against her, his weight both a comforting warmth and a frantic fever pitch against her own skin. He peeled off her t-shirt and pressed himself against her naked breasts, kissing her deeply and causing her to cry out in purrs and moans; and she was lost to everything but the sensation of his hands, his mouth, his hunger. His lips moved to her neck, and then he kissed his way down and suckled her nipples, taut and sensitive to every touch and swipe of his tongue. She tugged at the string of his pants, wanting to feel him against her and inside of her, and he reached back and tugged them off, laying his full length against her inner thigh. He shifted and his lips and tongue moved lower, swirling between her breasts then around her belly and reaching the top of her panties as he slid them slowly down her legs and dropped them to the floor. There was nothing between them now, except skin, and she lost herself completely when he took her with his mouth and swirled his tongue in slow, delicious circles, luxuriating in the exchange, and moaning his own desire.

  When she came it was like the ocean, wave after wave of pleasure pitching and rolling over her entire being; every nerve in her body fully alert as she fisted her hands in the sheets and cried out his name. He made his way back to her lips, and kissed her again. “Are you sure, Tia?” he growled insistently against her ear, “I need you to be sure, and to know that you are not a notch in anything.”