Finally he spoke when he offered to do my back for me. I nodded and he joined me on the chaise lounge, sitting behind me. He poured the cold liquid directly onto my shoulders, which made me squeal. He laughed. “What do you think of your vacation so far?”
“I love it. I’ve never been to Hawaii.”
“Get your passport and I’ll take you all over the world,” he promised. “London, Paris, Rome. China,” he added in a softer voice. I thought about Ling with a gentle smile.
“Ambitious agenda for a year,” I told him.
“Ambitious year,” he responded. I nodded. If there was anything I knew about Eli Blake, he was an ambitious guy. He wouldn’t stop until he had dominated the world. His fingers were tender as he rubbed the sunscreen into my delicate skin that had already begun to warm under the sun. “You really don’t care what people think, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like today. I tell you to skip makeup, you put on sunglasses like it’s nothing. If I had said that to Rhonda, she would have spent the next ten minutes yelling at me in Spanglish, telling me I didn’t understand what it was like to be a woman in the public eye.”
“Big difference. I’m not in the public eye.”
“Yeah, you are,” he corrected. “You just don’t care. At the spa. On the beach. You just walked through a crowded lobby in beachwear, and don’t even notice if other people stare or talk behind your back. It’s like you’re a queen and they’re all beneath you.”
I chuckled. “Oh, I notice. But you’re right. I don’t care. I’m not defined by the opinions of others.”
His caresses grew even gentler. “Like a queen.” I said nothing. “It’s sexy,” he murmured, his fingers trailing over my shoulders and down both arms as he leaned closer. “You’re sexy.”
My eyes met his. “Surprised?”
He nodded. “Every day.” He leaned forward for another kiss. I rewarded him by deepening it, because I was pretty sure that was what Doris would have done. My ardent response made him groan deep in his throat. “If I had my way, we’d spend all five days up in that room.”
Again I chuckled. “I sure hope you have an alternate itinerary. Because we’re not doing that.”
He toyed with my lips, using his own. “Why not?”
My voice was soft. “I have a million new reasons why not.”
He searched my eyes for a moment. Finally he smiled. “Fine,” he conceded, a little too easily. He hopped off the chaise and held out a hand. “I hope you’re not afraid of deep water.”
I put my hand in his. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He grinned wide. “Bullshit. You’re scared shitless of me.” He pulled me into his arms. “And you should be.” He delivered another scorching kiss, and this time, it left me breathless.
I didn’t have time to analyze it. He tugged me by the hand and we ran down towards the water.
We spent that afternoon taking surfing lessons. Again I managed to surprise Eli, who was still trying to find the one thing that I might refuse, just because he thought I couldn’t keep up. As it turned out, both of us had had some prior experience trying to ride the waves. I took lessons when I first got to Los Angeles, as did he. But life intervened and we never went back to it.
Our surf instructors took their time with us, focusing that first lesson on teaching us the fundamentals, like paddling. These baby steps were painstaking. I wanted to learn the fun stuff, like standing on the board, but I knew from experience that it was worth learning proper technique. I had to crawl before I learned how to walk. And I had only just been released from wearing the boot, so I didn’t want to aggravate my injury.
He glanced down at my foot after our lesson came to a close. “How’s your ankle holding up?”
I hated to admit it, but all the exercise in the sand had left it aching. He nodded and cut our beach time short. “There are plenty of things we can do,” he promised with a smile. “In the meantime,” he started, before picking me up in his arms and literally whisking me right off the sand and into the lobby of our hotel.
I was more embarrassed by that than walking on the beach in my swimsuit.
After a brief stop in our room to change for dinner, we headed back downstairs where a car waited to take us to our first official luau. Because he was Eli Blake, he got us premiere seating right next to the stage, so close I could feel the heat from the fire they used in their Polynesian dancing. It was all primal and exciting and I definitely threw myself into the experience. When one of the dancers in a grass skirt asked for volunteers to hula, I was the first one out of my chair, my stupid aching ankle be damned. Eli laughed as he recorded me with his camera phone, offering me a thumbs up to show his approval, along with some enthusiastic catcalls. We topped off our night with tribal henna tattoos, which Eli photographed for his social media. “We’re branded now. Does this mean I get to keep her?”
It was late by the time we got back to the hotel, but I wasn’t tired. Not in the least. We were in paradise, and I wanted to squeeze every single minute out of it I could. When he suggested the hot tub, I didn’t hesitate.
There was no one else around, but there wouldn’t be. It was after hours for the hotel, but since he was Eli Blake, he got special privileges. We enjoyed the crystal clear night with full bar service as an attendant started up the hot tub, getting it steamy and bubbly for us. Eli got in first and then assisted me as I joined him. I smiled as I relaxed against the forceful jet against my back. The attendant brought us huge fruity tropical libations, complete with an umbrella. Eli started to sing that old 70s song about pina coladas, which made me laugh. He could be really amusing when he wanted to be.
“How is paradise treating my queen so far?” he murmured from where he sat on the next jet.
“It’s perfect,” I said without opening my eyes. “A girl could get used to this.”
“Stick with me, baby, and it’s nothing but champagne and caviar from this moment forward.”
“So says the Oscar winner,” I teased. He laughed.
“It’s just the beginning,” he promised, and I knew he meant it.
“I believe you,” I murmured. “If there’s something you want, you make it happen. Topping the pop charts, winning a coveted award. Surfing,” I added and he chuckled, thinking about our day.
“Me? What about you? I can’t believe you volunteered to hula. Where did you learn to dance like that?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Clem and I took belly dancing lessons for a while.”
He nearly choked on his frozen drink. “Seriously?”
I opened one eye to peer at him. “Something wrong with that?”
He thought about it and finally decided, “Not at all. Those hip movements definitely come in handy.”
I laughed again. “Indeed.” I fell silent again, listening to the relaxing bubbling water as the cool breeze filtered from the ocean. I drifted away in my own little paradise I almost didn’t hear him speak.
“Come here,” he said softly, and I turned to look at him.
“I’m right here,” I protested softly.
“Not close enough,” he insisted. “Come here, Carly.”
I might have denied him had a full staff not been waiting nearby. This meant I was on the clock. I stood and faced him, and he helped me onto his lap, which I straddled to face him. His hand snaked behind my neck and pulled me down for a deep kiss. He tasted of pineapple and coconut and rum, and it was that last little bit that helped me get into character. I placed my arms around him and kissed him back. He clutched me tighter, his hands along my back, sliding down to rest comfortably on my hips. “Show me,” he whispered.
“Eli,” I started, with a protest immediately springing to my lips.
“Don’t be scared,” he said. “Not now. Not you. Not ever.” His voice softened even more. “Show me.”
I sighed. Just one convincing romantic weekend. That was all we needed. Slowly I began to move my hips, my eyes locked with his, as I
watched for any clue that he might mock me or disrespect me in some way. Instead those eyes became unreadable as he guided my movements with his hands. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t talk. Yet it was breathtakingly intimate as I used these primal movements, undulating like a snake in his lap.
His hands slid up my back, resting finally near the tie for my halter top. He released it with one pull and I felt the material give way. I gasped and held it to my chest. “Eli! There are people around.”
“So?” he challenged. “You don’t care. You never cared. That’s what is so goddamned sexy about you,” he growled before he pulled me closer and branded me with a blazing hot kiss. It was a kiss that demanded my submission, and I found myself bracing against him, holding on just like he was another wave in the ocean. He grew rock hard against me, so I knew his desire wasn’t fabricated.
I pulled away, breathless. “Eli,” I said, because I couldn’t say anything else for fear of being overheard.
“You drive me crazy, Carly Reynolds. Now take me upstairs before I fuck you right here in this hot tub.”
I nearly sighed in relief. The charade was over. I could clock out and go home. Or at least escape to our private suite. I nodded my head and, holding my swimsuit to my chest, I stumbled out of the hot tub. He followed behind, grabbing an enormous white towel as he did so. As I turned to face him, he wrapped me in that towel completely. I gasped as I felt him grab the top of my suit and rip it away from my chest. He dropped it on the floor beside us. I was topless in front of him, with just a towel to keep my modesty intact from all our witnesses. His eyes didn’t even leave my face as he told the attendant, “Make sure that Miss Reynolds’ suit is cleaned and returned to her by morning.”
The command was so firmly issued that it even gave me a little chill.
“Yes, Mr. Blake. As you wish.”
With that, he took me by one hand and led me from the pool area. I kept the towel clutched around me with my free hand as he pulled us into the elevator. He pushed me up against the wall.
“There’s nobody here,” I pointed out.
“Cameras,” he countered, before he kissed me again. Unlike the ones before, this was urgent… like it was leading somewhere.
My stomach dropped. What would Doris Day do?
I was even more nervous after the door of our suite closed behind us, and he turned to me with that same predatory stare. He wasn’t Cary Grant anymore. He was a Neanderthal ready to knock me over the head with his club and drag me by the hair to the bed.
“Eli,” I started again, backing up a step.
He closed the gap effortlessly. “Fuck me, Carly,” he commanded at once, his hand cupping my neck and pulling me closer.
“No,” I said softly.
“Why?” he asked, even softer.
“Because…,” I started, and then my brain just suddenly quit working. I had a bazillion reasons to reject Eli Blake a few months ago. But in the last day or two, he had actually shown me a human side, a decent side. If I met that guy at a bar, maybe I would have ended up in bed with him.
Oh, who am I kidding? I would have jumped on him before either of us could have motioned for the check.
But still… this was Eli Blake. And there were still a million good reasons to hold onto my virtue. “Because it’s not real,” I finally said.
He pulled me close, so I could feel the hard lines of his body press against mine. “Tell me that’s not real,” he murmured before he reached for another kiss. “We could have it all. We don’t have to pretend.”
My eyes met his. “And in a year, when the contract is satisfied, and everyone has forgotten about the scandal, what then?”
“Can’t we worry about that in January?” he whispered against my lips.
Again my stomach dropped. Eli Blake was an asshole, but at least he was an honest one. He wasn’t promising me anything. He couldn’t. It was up to me to protect myself. As usual. “No,” I repeated softly as I pushed away. “We can’t.”
He didn’t stop me as I walked from the living room to the bathroom, to change into something a little more modest than my swim skirt.
He was already in bed when I reemerged from the bathroom in some shorty pajamas Clem had picked for the trip. It was like Clem herself couldn’t figure out if this was real or just another game. They were just sexy enough, but nothing too obvious… just in case.
She knew me so well.
I had dallied so long in the bathroom that Eli had already changed into some pajama bottoms. He was lying in bed, on top of the covers, waiting for me. He said nothing as I rounded the large bed and crawled in the other side. I had already taken a hydrocodone while in the bathroom. I needed it for the pain in my foot, which after our active day was making itself known.
The added benefit was that it would knock me the fuck out, and I could get through the night without doing something monumentally stupid… like sleep with Eli Blake of all things.
For the first time since I met him, I was actually tempted. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to scare me straight. I blamed Hawaii. I blamed the Mai Tais at the luau. I blamed his acting like a decent human being for nearly two days straight—a streak as far as he was concerned.
None of that was an excuse to sleep with the man. Sure he was sexy. Sure he was a good kisser. Sure he had embodied Cary Grant and “whisked” me away to paradise, like every romantic fantasy any hopelessly romantic girl had ever entertained.
But he was Eli Fucking Blake. He needed to fuck up again fast or else I’d forget it and throw everything away like some clueless bimbo.
Little did I know, the next day in paradise would remind me just how much of a conniving asshole he could be, and why I could never, ever, ever sleep with him.
Ever.
It was the sound of Eli’s muffled voice that eventually dragged me from narcotic coma the following morning. It was muffled mostly because I had used all the extra pillows to create a fort between us, to let him know that if any part of him ventured over into my territory, I would consider it a hostile takeover and respond accordingly.
I might have slept in the other bedroom altogether, or even the couch, but his warning that we couldn’t trust service staff rang in my ears, keeping me in line throughout our trip. I wouldn’t risk something like two rumpled beds to cast dispersion on our romantic getaway. Not when I was thisclose to freedom.
Especially since one look at social media indicated that people not only bought the fact we were a couple in love, many championed it. Just like his rabid fans at the awards ceremony giving me a round of thunderous, enthusiastic applause, many showed their appreciation and support online whenever he posted photos of us or updated his status about our getaway.
All of this was par for the course. Most of this I expected and accepted.
The part that was completely new? Overhearing Eli in the other room, as he conferred with Donna about our day’s itinerary, and his use of the words “film crew.”
“Both Tempestuous and Graham are excited by the footage you got yesterday,” Donna gushed.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Donna,” he praised warmly. I could practically feel her preen through the walls.
“By the time you leave here on Friday, you should have plenty of footage from Hawaii to use in your new video. We are so honored to be a part of it.”
I barely waited for Donna to leave before I pounced all over that. I joined him in the living room just as he shut the door behind her. “What the fuck is she talking about, a new video?”
He glanced at me before he fetched the room service cart, which contained our breakfast for the morning, including more mimosas. I could see now he was trying to keep me drunk and compliant on this trip. Now I knew why.
“My new video, the one for my next single, She’s a Winner, the one we’re going to debut on Fierce.”
I glared at him. “I know which video, Eli. But what does it have to do with me?”
Again he was completely unapologet
ic. “We figured we’d make it personal this time, using video footage of you and me to sell the love story. Miles O’Rourke inspired the idea, actually. Said you could be a model, just like those interviewers on the red carpet. For once he was right.” He sat at the table, where he set his plate. I stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief until he finally said, “What?”
“You’re not going to ask me to be in the video, just covertly film me without my knowledge?”
He shrugged. “We’re constantly being filmed anyway. I figured we might as well make it work for us. Why audition anyone else when I’ve already got the perfect girl?” he asked as his eyes made a shameless inspection of me head to foot. “Julie figured out who the PING operative was that would film us in Hawaii, and we made an offer she couldn’t refuse. Professional video credit in a major music video. We can even give a sneak preview on St. Patrick’s Day at FFF. It’s a win/win for everyone.”
I continued to scoff as I stared at him. “And it never occurred to you to talk to me about any of this?”
“What’s to talk about?” he asked. “Your whole job is to say yes. Yes to the relationship. Yes to the trips. Yes to the events. Yes to making out with me in public for the whole world to see. Yes to being filmed and connected with me, wherever I happen to be. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you didn’t treat me like a partner in this. I’m just supposed to nod my head and go along with everything, like the good little woman?”
He stuffed his face with pancakes covered in pan-seared bananas and nuts. “I would have talked to you about it, but you have this annoying habit of turning every reasonable conversation into a battle of wills. Right now for example.”
I was incredulous as I stared at him. “You leave me out of everything. You tell me about nothing. Yet I’m supposed to stay happy and compliant?”
Glitter on the Web Page 17
