Swinging On A Star

by Olivia Jaymes

  What the fuck was Max up to? He didn’t want her to take the damn role any more than she wanted it. It only took a moment for her to realize what he was upset about.

  He thought she’d used him to get a part in a big budget movie.

  So much for trust. That wall she’d torn down was not only rebuilt magically but he was in the process of fortifying it. She had to cut him off at the pass. Quickly.

  “I am not under any circumstances doing the film,” Carrie said as firmly as possible. “I am not an actress nor do I have any interest in becoming one. I am having far too much fun with my own career to think about getting a new one so banish it from your thoughts, Tyler. It ain’t gonna happen, my friend. However, it is sweet that you thought of me. Terribly misguided, but sweet.”

  Shrugging, Tyler accepted a fresh beer from the waitress. “I think you’d be great, Red, but I understand. If you ever change your mind…”

  “You’ll know that I’ve had a severe blow to the head,” she finished for him, noticing that Max looked much more relaxed than he had just minutes ago. “Really and truly. I’m happy with my career. In fact, I’m thrilled. I’m having a ball.”

  Paige had been nursing her hard cider all night but she finished it off with a flourish. “That’s right. Keep your hands off Carrie. I need her.”

  Aww, that was sweet. Carrie was looking forward to being a producer on Nate and Paige’s film. She wanted nothing to do with being in front of the camera but behind it? It was an exciting new challenge. One she was looking forward to. All they needed was for the studio to sign off on the final deal. Until then the plan for her to be part of the production team was hush-hush. She didn’t want to jinx it by announcing it before it was official.

  Max’s warm gaze landed on Carrie and she squirmed in her seat, the blood singing through her veins. He was looking at her with a combination of lust and admiration.

  I can’t wait until I get him home.

  “She is special, isn’t she?” Max said, his deep voice sending tingles straight to the most intimate parts of her. If they had been alone, she would have reached out and let her fingertips trace his lips. But with all of these people around them she had to be content with smiling back, hoping he got the message.

  You are getting so lucky tonight, Hamlet.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Max was in an excellent mood as they climbed the front steps to his home, Carrie in front of him. His hands were on her hips and his lips were exploring the side of her neck and making it more difficult than it should have been to fit the key into the lock. She slapped playfully at his hands that had roamed to her front.

  “Can you just hold on one cotton pickin’ minute? I can’t get the door unlocked.”

  Instead of pausing, Max nipped at her shoulder with his teeth sending a shiver up her spine. “You wouldn’t let me kiss you in the limo. You said to wait until we got home. Well, we’re home.”

  Technically, he had a point.

  “That’s true, Hamlet, but you might want to watch those hands because there is about a dozen cameras trained on the front door of this house tonight. We could end up on the cover of a tabloid with our knickers down.”

  “Only girls wear knickers.”

  Success. She got the darn key in the lock. Twisting it, the door fell open and they stumbled inside.

  “Funny about that. I forgot to wear my knickers tonight.”

  The door immediately and loudly slammed shut and she found herself pressed up against it by one male, six feet tall and all muscle. His warm breath feathered over her shoulder as he ran his tongue from her earlobe down to where her pulse beat madly at the base of her throat.

  “You naughty girl,” he chuckled, pressing damp kisses to her flesh and making the room spin. “You’ve been walking around all night without your panties? Are you trying to kill me?”

  His questing fingers slid up her thigh and she relaxed, surrendering to his carnal explorations. Her lips captured his, their tongues playing together as his hand slipped between her legs. Breaking the kiss, she moaned as his touch found her wet, swollen, and needy. She’d been fantasizing about this all night.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to please you.”

  His laugh was pure male pleasure and dominance. “My darling girl, you always do that. Now I’m going to please you.”

  Max slid down her body and to his knees, hooking one of her thighs over his shoulder. Gasping at the first stroke of his tongue, she was grateful for his strong arms as he braced her firmly against the smooth oak of the door, allowing her to abandon herself to the maelstrom of pleasure his expert mouth evoked. Wave after wave of heat swept through her veins and her eyelids fluttered shut, closing out the world beyond the two of them.

  “Max,” she whispered as her fingers dug into his soft, springy hair. A coil of arousal was tightening in her belly, inexorably pushing her closer to release as his tongue flicked over her sensitive clit. “More.”

  Usually he liked to tease her but tonight he didn’t make her wait. His mouth closed over the sensitive bud, the tip of his tongue drawing circles around it until she thought she might lose her mind. Her body exploded into a million tiny pieces like confetti showering down from the sky.

  His name was on her lips when he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist. At some point he’d unzipped his pants and now he was pushing against her core, hot, hard and ready. She groaned as he bottomed out, every steely inch of him buried to the hilt.

  Every time he sank into her, stretching her walls, Carrie clenched around him. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his strokes picked up speed, rubbing that spot inside of her that drove her mad with want. This would be no gentle, romantic coupling. They were frantic and needy, their hands pawing at the barrier of their clothes so they could touch the bare flesh underneath.

  The sounds they made were obscene. Damp flesh. Grunts. Wild, breathless panting. The door he’d braced her against shook on its hinges with the power of his thrusts. She’d have bruises on her hips tomorrow where his hands gripped her bottom, holding her still for their mating. He was in his all-male domination mode and although she wouldn’t want a steady diet of this cock of the walk attitude, tonight she relished his passion and ardor. Never in her life had a man wanted her this badly. It was as if he couldn’t get enough.

  Or maybe it was she that couldn’t get enough of him.

  It didn’t matter which because they were both getting what they wanted. He’d driven them both to the pinnacle and now she was climaxing around him, screaming his name so loudly the paps across the street probably heard her. His own orgasm was no less spectacular. He threw his head back, his eyes closed as if in prayer. The veins on his neck stood out in stark relief, his jaw tight. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and she leaned forward to run her tongue along his Adam’s apple, tasting the salty tang.

  As quickly as the storm had come upon them it was over. As gentle as ever, Max pressed baby soft kisses onto her face as he stepped away from the door and headed up the stairs, carrying her the whole way. Once in his bedroom, he laid her on the bed and began to undress her, slowly this time, savoring every moment of it. His own clothes melted away and he cuddled against her, his front to her back. His fingers methodically stroked her skin as their heartbeats slowed and their breathing evened out.

  Max made Carrie feel infinitely precious and protected. Snuggled and safe in his arms, nothing could touch her. No doubts. No fears. This was a man worth believing in.

  * * *

  Max shifted on the mattress slightly, trying not to wake the woman peacefully slumbering at his side. The clock on the bedside table read three-thirty but he was wide awake. Despite their passionate lovemaking that should have burned whatever energy he’d had left after tonight’s performance, he couldn’t seem to settle down and sleep. His mind was buzzing as he replayed Tyler’s words over and over in his head.

  I think you’d be great. Just say the word.

/>   Carrie had quickly put the actor in his place, turning him down in her no-nonsense tone. Max believed her. He believed that she wasn’t interested in being an actress. A star. Mostly. He couldn’t deny, however, that little voice in the back of his head that was whispering again and again.

  She wants something. She’s using you. You can’t trust her.

  After all, who didn’t want to become a star? They thought it was all riding around in limos, drinking champagne, and shagging fans. Carrie, of course, knew full well that it was a hell of a lot more work but was the glamour any draw for her at all? She certainly enjoyed wearing designer dresses and attending parties.

  Shaking his head, he gazed down at her innocently curled against him and silently berated himself. This was no barracuda looking for a big payday. Carrie was ambitious and hardworking but there was no way she was planning to become the next Meryl Streep. She loved her work and her life and it showed. There was no way in hell that Carrie was using Max unless it was for hot sex.

  Snickering at his own joke, he leaned down to drop a kiss on her shoulder, the skin like satin under his lips. Her warm scent surrounded him, swamping his senses and his chest tightened in response. The emotions this woman created inside of him were so incredibly strong, almost bringing him to his knees with their awesome power. In one breath he wondered how he could ever survive feeling like this and in the next he wondered how he could live without it.

  Carrie confused and bewildered him, keeping him off balance and reveling in it. Max was a man that was unused to not knowing what he wanted and how he felt. He needed to figure it out quickly though, as the clock on their relationship was ticking away and the last few granules of sand would soon be at the bottom of the hourglass. She wouldn’t be obligated to be with him and he had doubts as to whether he’d given her enough reasons to stay without the ties that bound them together. He’d spent so many years putting distance between himself and others that when it came time to pull someone closer he had no idea how to accomplish the task.

  For Carrie…he’d better figure it out and fast.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Carrie could barely keep her eyes open after a twelve hour flight to Tampa from London. Thank goodness she’d gained five hours with the time difference. She’d napped in the air but sleeping on a plane when she was alone always made her uneasy. If Paige or Max had been there she would have been able to drop off without any problems, but by herself she simply felt too vulnerable.

  While waiting for her luggage, she dug her phone out of her purse and sent a quick text to Max letting him know she’s arrived safely. He’d been adamant that he would worry so she’d promised to let him know as soon as she landed. Her ankle was almost back to one hundred percent but he’d fussed about her luggage and walking through the airport.

  She’d had the distinct feeling he hadn’t wanted her to go on this trip but that was probably all her imagination. He hadn’t said anything outright about not going so she was sure it was just her that didn’t want to be away from him. Max might even be celebrating having the bed and remote control to himself. She’d spent every night at his place since her sprained ankle.

  Technology was an amazing thing. Soon after she shot off the text, her phone rang. Max.

  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping in after last night’s performance?”

  His gravelly chuckle told her that he was still in bed and had just woken. That was her favorite time. Warm and sleepy, he curled himself around her, whispering filthy suggestions in her ear that were definitely going to make him late for any morning appointment. Now with the play underway, he worked late and – usually – slept late.

  “Hell of a way to greet a man who just wants to hear your voice. How was your flight, love?”

  “Long,” she sighed, making herself comfortable on a bench by the elevators while she waited for her bag. “The food was decent though and I got a bunch of paperwork done, so that was good. How was the play last night?”

  Her flight had taken off at eight in the evening so she’d had to say goodbye before he left for the theatre. He’d given her the puppy dog eyes that made her feel like she was abandoning him at the pound.

  “It was good, although someone’s bloody cell phone went off during. Can’t people turn those things off? It’s hellishly rude.”

  It was but he might not be the best spokesman for that particular cause.

  “Uh…Hamlet? Your phone is never more than a few inches from your fingertips. You get twitchy if you haven’t touched it for awhile. It’s the first thing you reach for in the morning.”

  “That’s not the case at all.” His tone was indignant and it sounded like he was waking up fast. “You are the first thing I reach for in the morning. But your point is well taken. Which reminds me…you were not here this morning when I woke. Tell me again as to how long that will be the sad and lonely situation?”

  “Geez, you are so formal. Just ask me how long I’m going to gone for.”

  He gave her a long-suffering sigh. Such a drama king.

  “How long are you going to be gone?”

  Too long. Carrie already missed him.

  “Four days. It didn’t make much sense to fly twelve hours to attend a party and then turn around and fly out hours later so I’m going to visit with my family and a few friends before I return. Think you can hold out?”

  I’m not sure I can. Max-withdrawal.

  “If I must, I suppose I can.”

  “Concentrate on the play and I’ll be home before you know it.”

  Oops. What the hell did she just say? Home? Was London home? Was Max’s house home? Was he overthinking this like she was? Damn, she needed a dose of caffeine and a slap to the face.

  “I know I’m complaining but I do want you to enjoy yourself, love.”

  A man with a huge suitcase smacked the side of his bag into her knee as he walked by, luckily the left this time and not the right. Stifling a groan, she rubbed at the spot that would surely turn into a bruise as she saw her flight number flash on the overhead screen.

  Luggage on conveyer belt B.

  “You’re such the gentleman. Don’t worry, I will. It will be good to see everyone but I have to admit I’m getting used to London. It’s going to be so bright here with all the sunshine.” The conveyor belt began to move, spitting out suitcase after suitcase. “I think my bag is here so I better let you go. Go back to sleep.”

  Standing, she hurried over to wait with everyone else on her flight. Tiny as she was, she was able to slip through the crowd and make her way to the front.

  “Call me later.”

  No way was she calling him at the theatre. “No, you call me when you have a minute. I don’t want to interrupt rehearsals and everything so I won’t be reaching out to you. Now…seriously…go back to sleep. You need the rest.”

  “I’ll call you then. What time would be good?”

  Now he was simply stalling.

  “Just call me. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye, love.”

  If he said any more she didn’t hear it, ending the call with a press of a button. She could have chatted with him all damn day but he needed to get some rest or he’d be out of sorts for the performance tonight.

  Grabbing her luggage from the belt, she was aware she had a goofy smile on her face. Her heart was beating fast, and just like in the movies, she wanted to break into song, singing at the top of her lungs. Maybe even do a dance step or two. She just couldn’t help it.

  Max missed her.

  * * *

  Greg’s party was a huge success and he was shocked but pleased to see her standing in his living room. Carrie didn’t know about half of the people there but they were all friendly. Her picture had been plastered on a bunch of tabloids with images from Max’s opening night and a few of the guests recognized her. Cornered by the buffet, she patiently answered their questions until a few of them became way more personal than she was comfortable with.

  She was happy
to tell people that Max was smart and sweet. That he liked chocolate ice cream more than vanilla or that he listened to Vivaldi when he was trying to concentrate. But the more personal questions such as did they live together or was he a good lover or were they getting married? Nope.

  And yes, someone at the party had the gall to ask her those questions. One woman in particular looked like she wanted to smack Carrie across the face, her lips twisted with dislike. Carrie could have told the female that the chances of ever meeting Maxwell Hayes, getting asked on a date, falling in love, and getting married were fairly remote but she didn’t bother. If the woman was delusional enough to think that all that stood between her and Max was Carrie, then there wasn’t much to be done about her grip on reality.

  “I still can’t believe you’re here, Sis, and that you flew all this way just for me.”

  Greg was pouring her another glass of wine which she desperately needed after her interaction with that woman and her nosy questions.

  “It’s your big night so of course I’m here.” She placed her hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze as her throat clogged with emotion. “Mom and Dad would have been so proud of you.”

  “And you. You’re all over the papers. I wish Jeannie and I could come to London and see your man’s play. The reviews are amazing.”

  My man. I hope so.

  Shrugging, Carrie sipped her wine. “I’m not sure dating a movie star and getting my picture in a supermarket rag is something to strive for but I think I see your point. I hope they’d be proud of all that I’ve achieved.”

  Greg nodded. “They would be. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, and might I say that I’m glad you broke up with that waste of skin Mark. He was never good enough for you. Not even close. Now this Maxwell Hayes guy, he’s more your type. The kind that has goals and works toward them. Makes something of themselves.”

  “He did do me a favor by cheating on me. I’d been dating him so long that I forgot how relationships were supposed to be.”