That mate was all sass. Worth the entire trip down under to hear it from her. He straightened up and gave Teela a bit of a show, raising both arms to finger comb his hair and flexing everything flexible in his arms and abs. He was such a ham. She knew it too. She was laughing at him, sexy witch. He did his best Magic Mike impression taking off his belt, but he really could’ve done with those Velcro seam pants for ease and impact. Made the best of dropping his trousers with some strategic hip shifts and went for a no-nonsense brief removal because the way she was looking at him made him suddenly self-conscious.
And that was unsettling. He was well-used to being watched.
She wasn’t laughing anymore. She sat on her heels, hands on her thighs, skin flushed, hair in glorious disarray. “What the hell was I thinking?” she said.
“Buyer’s remorse?” Shit, he should’ve done a better job of living up to her fantasy.
“Oh hell no. Not for a minute. Hottest sex I’ve ever had. Thank you for doing that for me. But there is no getting around the fact you should be naked all the time.”
Ah, that was a relief. “I try to keep the naked me to very small audiences.” His contracts only allowed for semi-nudity, which was essentially a side glimpse of ass. “Exclusive. Private.” Only women who interested him as much as Teela did.
“Don’t want to become overexposed.”
He gave her a good gander at his off-limits nudity as he filled water glasses and brought them to the bed. She gave him a good look at her lovely round ass when she went to pee.
They’d hit that potentially strained spot where he normally put clothing on to signal the beginning of the end of an encounter. He didn’t think they were done with each other, but until Teela crawled up the bed and into his arms, he wasn’t sure.
It’d been a long time since a woman made him uncertain.
He chased the feeling away by holding her on his chest, her head tucked under his chin, one of her luscious legs thrown over his hips.
“I meant what I said about trying out other positions,” he said, tracing his fingers down the channel of her spine.
She played hers over the dips of his abs and sighed. That sigh could be contentment, or it could be a reason for concern. “That’s if you’d like to.”
She lifted her head, eased a little more on top of him. “I would love that, but I might need a minute. I’ve had very little sleep lately and it’s been a long day and you really have put me in a sex coma.”
Ah, he could see that in her half-lidded eyes, feel it in the weight of her limbs. Not her fault he was on LA time and wide awake and that he’d had a power nap between his various engagements.
“Are you comfortable?” She lay her head down and snuggled closer. There was no misinterpreting that. He kissed the top of her head. “I enjoyed myself enormously tonight. Wake me if you need anything.”
He got a hmmm of agreement and the next thing he knew she was kissing him awake. He went from what day is it to must fuck now in about five minutes’ worth of lip-lock action. Who cared what day it was?
And when she said, “How the fuck do you want me to fuck you?” it might’ve been the best day of the year.
She sat astride him in her stupendous nakedness and she didn’t look sleepy anymore. She looked like a good career move.
“Any way you want, but wear your new shoes.”
The new red shoes made her look like a Vegas showgirl, from back in the day when they were the height of glamor. They made her look like breakfast, lunch and dinner all rolled into one feast.
Any way she wanted was a little acrobatic and a lot of fun. It involved several changes of position, starting with him sitting on his heels and her riding him reverse cowboy. Those stiletto heels and red soles aligned right along his thighs. He liked this position, full use of his hands, lots of ways to hold her, hips and breasts and carefully at her throat. He made her come that way, buried inside her, her head tipped back on his shoulder, one hand at her neck and the fingers of the other circling her clit. It wasn’t near enough. He got himself there taking her on her hands and knees and then he just hung out, lying between her legs, those heels resting on his thighs, finding softness and comfort in her kisses.
When his alarm sounded, he pitched one of her shoes across the room to knock his phone off the charger and shut it off. Lucky shot. Lucky accident meeting Teela, or he’d have woken alone, only his news feed for company.
“How busy will you be today?” he asked, then rudely stopped her answering right away by going after her lips.
“It’s a catch-up day, it shouldn’t be too bad,” she said, scratching at his stubble. “I don’t have to go in early. What about you?”
“I’ll be appallingly busy waiting for a single phone call and if it comes I have to sign some paperwork and have my photo taken. Not sure how I’m going to get through all that.” If that call didn’t come, his trip here had been a vanity exercise. He’d spend the whole day doing nothing very much at all but fretting and pretending not to care.
She used the other shoe to poke him in the calf. “A day in the life of the Sexiest Man Alive.”
He stole the shoe and pitched it off the bed. “You know I have more worthy titles.” He really shouldn’t care what she thought, and one glance at her face and he knew she was only baiting him, except that particular title was random and meaningless. It didn’t take any talent, perseverance or goodness to win it. “That one is just about selling magazines,” he grumbled.
“I’m sure you can sell anything you put your name on, including satellite time.”
In one phone call he’d have a test case for that theory. He needed another million dollars to buy secure satellite time this month to prevent relief trucks in the sub-Saharan from being hijacked by warlords. “Can I sell you on a swim before breakfast?”
“I don’t have a suit.” She laughed. “Oh no, you’ve failed at the first objection.”
“The suite comes with a private pool.” He wiggled his brows at her. “Victory. No suits required.”
She flung her arm over her eyes but her mouth was all mirth. “This is not real. It’s only a dream.”
“You go with that if it makes you feel good,” he said, peppering kisses over her chest. “But I think you really want a swim.”
What she really wanted after he’d sold her on it was for him to make her come with his hand, in waist-high water, her breasts pressed against the glass wall of the suite’s private pool, forty-one floors above Sydney Harbour.
Any morning commuters with rubber necks and binocular eyes who happened to look across from office buildings or the bridge would’ve had a heck of a show.
In the shower, Teela returned the favor with her mouth and it was so good he wanted to put the morning on repeat. By the time they sat down to breakfast, he was reluctant to let her go and that had nothing to do with the boring day he had stretched out in front of him.
Teela Carpenter was indeed a secret weapon. She was sexy. She was giving. She expected absolutely nothing from him and that made him want her to expect more than one night of unlooked for passion. That had to be his hormones talking. His ego. Also he was a competitive bastard, and they hadn’t tried out every position and that was surely a broken promise.
Over eggs and bacon, he auditioned the idea of asking her to take the day off. And then consigned the concept to the wastepaper basket. He’d already broken his tried and tested rules for a one-night stand by waking up beside her, and they both had lives to get back to.
While he shaved, she dressed. He came back into the main room to find her checking messages on her phone and their role play from last night reversed. She was fully dressed, and he was down to briefs. Made his dick twitch. And given the workout he’d subjected it to in the last twelve hours, that was a triumph. Made her smile in a way that told him she was thinking what he was thinking.
“I had a great time with you, Teela. I’m sorry you had an accident.”
She waggled her head side to s
ide. “My poor car.”
“I’m not sorry it delivered you into my bed.” It would be OTT if he offered to take care of her repairs. Wouldn’t it?
Now she waggled a finger at him. “No. No. Buying me clothing because mine was ruined is one thing. My car is insured. I don’t need you buying me new headlights.”
He’d given a little too much of himself away in a night if she could read him that well. He put his hands up in surrender and she walked into his arms and slapped both palms on his ass. “But for a bingle, I’d have driven home high on my experience of meeting you and I’d never have known you have dimples above your arse.”
Arse, it sounded so much ruder. And out of Teela’s mouth it was dirty talk. Damn, he’d like to keep her around longer but that would sap the fun out of it.
“You look lovely. That dress suits you.”
“Thank you.” She looked down between them at her shoes. “Not sure if I’ll make it through the whole day in these though.”
“You win some.” He lifted her head with a finger to her chin and kissed her temple. “You lose some.” He slanted his mouth over hers and made it a last kiss to remember.
After that it was the business end of the transaction. He shoved his legs in jeans and called Rick to put Hassan on standby. Then he carried Teela’s laptop bag and the laundry bag the hotel had delivered with her now dry clothes in it to the elevator for her.
When she got in, she faced him, ready to take on her day. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Delany. Good luck becoming a statesman.”
“Nice to meet you too, Miss. Carpenter.” He put his foot in the door to hold it open. “I know your business will be a success. But you deserve some fun, so cut yourself some slack now and then.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips and the elevator started complaining, forcing him to step back, rubbing his mouth because he didn’t know what kind of smile to give her.
He had a routine for these kinds of goodbyes and it didn’t include regret. It didn’t include standing alone in the lift well and looking at his blurred reflection in the closed elevator doors either.
FIVE
As soon as the lift doors closed on Haydn, Teela did a little dance, belatedly mindful she was in a tin box, forty stories up and wearing stilts. She’d just had a one-night stand. Correction, a luxury one-night stand with all the trimmings. And not just with any nice man she was attracted to and took a risk on.
With the Sexiest Man Alive.
And that description covered more than just his job and his looks. He rewrote the very definition of sexy with his commitment to use his fame for good.
She swung her laundry bag. No one was going to believe her. Everything that happened sounded like something you read in a book or made up for the attention. Who had morning sex pressed up against the glass wall of a private heated pool? Very, very lovely morning sex, with a wrenching clitoral orgasm, courtesy of a genuine Hollywood prince.
The elevator was on the ground now, but Teela was still floating when Hassan greeted her.
“Good morning, Miss. Carpenter. Do you wish to go to your office this morning? I can take you anywhere you’d like to go.”
How about back to last night. To her favorite moments. His eye contact hot enough to start drying her skin in the limo. Being bold enough to climb on Haydn’s lap in the boutique and make out with him like they were both new to kissing. Or when she was so easily under his spell she dropped the hotel robe on the floor and let him look at her. All of her.
He had her lust drugged. Had to be it, because she’d never have been brave enough to ask for what she wanted so blatantly otherwise. Telling Haydn she wanted him to stay dressed was a whole level of brazen up from asking a partner to get off your hair or ease up with the poking and saying, no, not that. She’d once asked her ratfink fiancé if he’d try a new position and he got out of bed and sulked for a week.
Should’ve known he was a problem then.
Haydn hadn’t raised a brow when she asked him to stay dressed, and he’d also known without her being explicit that the fantasy wasn’t about being dominated. She hadn’t been looking to call anyone Sir or be made to feel submissive. She simply wanted to pretend Hollywood’s leading man was wild about her and couldn’t wait long enough to get undressed.
And then he got undressed and that, well that inspired a whole new line of thinking. The kind that inspired her body to start melting.
All of those highlights had flashing stars around them. They were big and out of the ordinary, but her absolute favorite thing was how he’d made her feel safe and cared for with all the little things he’d done, from hanging up her new clothes to taking his watch off and bringing her water.
“Miss. Carpenter?”
She asked Hassan to drive her to the office. She was still elated when she slipped into the back seat to discover a huge bunch of flowers. While Hassan took on the traffic, she opened the card.
It read Lovely to meet you. All the best.
She turned it over. Blank. No signature and the card was handwritten. Lovely to meet you. All the best.
“Is something wrong, Miss. Carpenter?” Hassan said.
She met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Everything is great.” All the best. “No rain today. It’s going to be a stinking hot one.”
All the best was the kind of thing you said to someone pleasant you sat next to on a long-haul flight. You said it to a friend of a friend who you’d likely never meet again or when you interviewed someone for a job and you knew they weren’t going to get it, but you couldn’t tell them yet. It was the kind of thing you said when you didn’t quite know what else to say. It was bland, inoffensive.
Unimaginative and impersonal.
It was nothing like Haydn.
It wasn’t surprising he didn’t sign it. He probably didn’t give away signatures. And he’d certainly ordered the flowers by phone because he hadn’t left her at all, so it wasn’t his handwriting. Come to think of it, he hadn’t used his phone that morning. Not even to read anything on it, and he’d called Rick on the hotel phone while she was dressing.
Which meant this was what he did. It was his standing order for a one-night stand. Have a driver waiting, have flowers at the ready with a card that that read Lovely to meet you. All the best. Because those words covered every contingency and wrote the end.
Except the one where the dope receiving them had thought she might’ve been different, special.
Not change-his-life-for-her special, that’s not even something she wanted, but hadn’t they connected, not as anything deeply meaningful, but in that way you sometimes did with someone where you got on easily and kind of clicked?
He’d seemed reluctant to let her go. But that must be a figment of her imagination. The only thing that clicked was reality falling back into place. And in Teela’s real world she was a person who cared more about her work than her social life.
“I think there is something wrong, Miss. Carpenter,” Hassan said.
She shook her head. It was just her heart having a wobble. It was the overdose of attention and the rapid onset of endorphins and the silly stars in her eyes. It was having been starved for pleasure for so long and finding it unexpectedly and unpredictably wonderful. Or the lack of sleep. She’d only had about four hours’ worth.
“Everything is absolutely fine, Hassan, thank you.”
More coffee and her inbox and getting on with a regular day would restore the balance.
They pulled up outside her Surry Hills office and Hassan opened her door and helped her with her bags and the flowers. “Pleasure to drive you,” he said.
She stepped out in the building heat of the morning, her heels clacking on the pavement. Make that coffee, her inbox, a pair of shoes that wasn’t going to remind her of sex with Haydn Delany or massacre her feet and getting on with the regular day.
By tomorrow her night with the Hollywood star would be exactly what she’d h
oped it might be, something like a dream that had been real.
It should’ve been easy. She kept spare shoes in the office after all.
But she didn’t factor for a best friend who was completely mobile as a social media manager and who she’d left hanging.
“Evie is in your office.” Sophie said, when Teela made it inside the very quiet Carpenter Conference Management. Her other four conference managers had a well-earned day off. “I tried to stop her going in there and I told her I didn’t know when you’d be in, and that we needed time together first, so I can hear about the dinner with His Sexiness, but Evie is not a good listener, is she?”
Teela handed the flowers over. “You’re an assistant, not a miracle worker. Would you find something to put these in, please?”
“Ah, these are lovely. So nice of Lynda,” Sophie said, taking a big sniff of the bouquet.
This was one of those moments where you could come clean, confess that it wasn’t your client who gave you flowers, that you spent the night with His Sexiness and they were from him. And what did it matter that they were probably the same kind of bouquet he gave all his one-night conquests.
Or not.
Definitely not. “I’ll go manage Evie,” she said, dodging Sophie’s expectant tell-all expression.
Evie was sitting behind Teela’s desk, posting to her Instagram feed. “You’re alive then. I don’t need to call the authorities. Have sexy cock Delany held by customs and immigration. Spill all,” she said, not looking up. “Please tell me he has an exceptional dick.”
Teela dumped her bags on the couch. “Since it’s Friday, we could get takeaway and hang out tonight and I could tell you everything then. Especially since this is the part of Friday where I have to work.”
“Don’t be a bitch.” Evie waved her phone. “I’ve been working while I waited for you. And I only need the basics. We can do the excruciatingly intimate detail over Vietnamese at your place tonight.” She took her feet off Teela’s desk. “That’s settled then. I come in at the part where you might be dead of sex and not to mourn you.” She waved a hand. “Take it from there. Include the new look. The shoes are come-fuck-me hot.”
One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One Book 1) Page 5
