Already Famous

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Already Famous Page 11

by Heather Leigh


  “Sort of,” I explain. How in the hell do I say this? “I’ll hear about a money making investment, usually through a contact or a previous client, then I research it to see if it’s worth the time and money, and go from there. Sometimes it just needs funding to get whatever the client needs off of the ground, sometimes I work on every aspect including marketing. It’s a wide range of possibilities.” I conclude as I give her the most pathetic explanation ever for how a movie gets made.

  She looks so lost, and sad. “That’s…. interesting,” is all she can manage to come up with to my whitewashed description of my job.

  Now I have to drop a real bomb on her. “It’s okay, Sydney. I know it sounds confusing, but that’s the best way I know to explain it to you right now. The downside of my work is that I travel quite a bit. Some projects are in different states, some in different countries. That’s actually why I wanted to go away with you this weekend. I leave for California at the end of next week, and have to be on site for five or six weeks.” More disappointment appears on her face, which I fucking hate doing to her, but at least it means she doesn’t want me to go and might miss me a little while I’m gone.

  “Oh. I guess I never really thought about whether or not you traveled for your job. I mean, I don’t usually worry about things like that. Crap, that’s not what I mean. I’m sorry; I’m really new at this whole dating thing. I mean, we are dating, right?” She smacks her forehead in frustration, embarrassed by her rambling. “Okay, tell me if I just screwed this all up.”

  God she’s so fucking cute. She’s afraid to label us as dating because she doesn’t want to freak me out. How would she react if she knew I would marry her right here and now?

  I lean in and kiss her gorgeous mouth. “I’d like to think we’re dating, if that’s okay with you?”

  And I’m pathetically and hopelessly in love with you.

  I watch her reaction to make sure she’s okay. “And you haven’t screwed anything up, Sydney. I should have told you about my trip sooner. I just didn’t want to scare you away. Plus I hope to be able to come back to New York several times during the six weeks, so with any luck you’ll be willing to see me when I’m home.”

  Sydney gives me a small smile. “Well, you’re not wearing your hat to bring you luck, but I’m sure you don’t need it.” She looks down at her hands. Her voice drops to a near whisper, “Of course I want to see you Drew. That’s all I seem to think about these days.”

  I can’t stand not touching her anymore. I don’t give a shit about Gail, or my raging hard-on. I reach over and unbuckle her seatbelt and pull her onto my lap. Jesus, she feels so good and fits right on top of me. “Me too,” I admit as I take her delicious mouth and spend the rest of the flight tasting it.

  CHAPTER 15

  We land on St. Bart’s on a terrifyingly short runway with the bright turquoise ocean gleaming at the end. Gail opens the door and the salty smell of the sea surrounds us as we walk down onto the hot pavement. It’s perfect here. Warm, ocean breeze, gorgeous girl on my arm… I couldn’t be happier if I tried.

  Chad’s caretaker, Philippe, gets out of his Mini-Moke, a Jeep-like car I’ve heard about but never actually seen in person. Chad was supposed to tell this guy not to act weird around me or say anything about who I am, so he better not fuck this up.

  Philippe introduces himself to Sydney then to me, shaking my hand just a little too long for me to be a normal person. The dude is super-cheerful, with short tufts of gray hair, and is way, way too tan. He grabs our stuff out of the plane and I help Sydney into the back seat of the open top Moke. I can’t ride around in this thing without my disguise, so I get my Sox hat out of my bag and pull it down low.

  When I climb in next to Syd she bursts out laughing at the sight of my hat. Nice, she thinks I’m an idiot with hideous fashion sense, which I find quite charming. I grin at her. “What? I know you said I don’t need luck, but it can’t hurt.”

  Philippe starts the Moke and takes us to Chad’s villa. He describes a bunch of stuff about the island, but I could care less. I’m too busy watching Sydney take in the surroundings, her long auburn hair whipping around her face as we wind through the tropical greenery. When Philippe points out some wild peacocks, I think Sydney’s going to fall out of her seat she’s so excited. I laugh to myself at her reaction. She’s so happy and carefree, as if the island has lifted a huge burden from her weighted down shoulders. Her outright joy is contagious.

  I’m so fucking gone.

  When we pull into the gravel driveway of Chad’s house, the nervousness from this morning comes back full force. What if this Philippe guy left movie shit all over the house? If Sydney sees it, she’ll freak out and he seems like a little bit of an idiot.

  I hear a banging sound and see Philippe struggling, he’s already opening the front door and bringing our bags into the house. It’s like this guy is on speed or something he’s so damn quick. I need to get him alone and make sure he took care of everything.

  Sydney and I step into the huge open kitchen behind Philippe, who’s nowhere in sight. While she’s looking at everything I lean in and give her a quick kiss. “Wait here a minute, I’m going to chat with Philippe.” She nods and I hurry after the caretaker and find him in the master bedroom, placing our bags on the bed.

  “Hey, Philippe, can we talk for a minute?” I corner the really tan, really happy guy in the bedroom.

  “Of course, Mr. Forrester, what can I do for you?” He stands there looking way too fucking delighted to listen to me bitch at him.

  “I need to make sure all of Chad’s movie stuff is out of sight. He said he explained to you the importance of getting rid of it all.”

  Philippe nods and starts to leave the bedroom. Fuck dude! I can’t talk about this shit in front of Sydney. “Yes, I got all of it. No worries.”

  Like I’m not going to worry that the fate of my relationship with the woman I love is in this weirdo’s hands. “You’re sure you got all of it?” I ask, trailing after him down the hall.

  “Yes, yes. All of it.” Philippe responds as he continues to walk back toward the kitchen.

  “And you put it all in the office, correct?”

  “Yes.” He stops to give me a funny look, clearly starting to think I’m either OCD or crazy as he hurries back to Sydney. I watch him pull a key out of his pocket and place it on the countertop. Then he quickly shows us a map of the area. “Here are some additional phone numbers you may need.” Philippe points to a list on the refrigerator. “The fridge and pantry are stocked, let me know if you need anything, day or night. My number is on the list.” He shakes Syd’s hand then mine and leaves.

  “Well, Philippe is…” Sydney says.

  I want to say ‘a twitchy fuck’ but I stick to saying, “Interesting?” instead.

  “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” she responds. We both crack up at Philippe’s expense.

  I hold out my hand and ask her if she wants to see the house. She takes it without hesitation, and threads her fingers through mine. I have to admit, Chad has great taste. The house is massive, with comfortable furniture. My favorite part is the huge deck. I start imagining all the things I can do with Sydney on one of the plush double lounge chairs.

  Gently tugging on her hand, I lead Sydney across the hardwood deck. “This is even better than I imagined,” I tell her as I yank her down with me onto one of those tempting chairs, making her squeak in surprise.

  “You’ve never been here?” She asks, looking somewhat confused. Did I tell her I’ve been here before? I don’t think I did, but she’s acting like I have.

  “No, I haven’t. Why?”

  “I’m not sure, I just assumed. You said the owner was a friend, I don’t know why I thought that.” Oh, she made her own assumptions because she never asked me any details about this house or the trip. Just like she never asks me any other questions. Or answers them.

  “The owner is a friend, as well as a business partner in some of my investme
nts. But I work a lot, and haven’t had the opportunity to just take off and come here. I don’t get to take a lot of vacations.” I don’t need to tell her that she’s the first girl I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since I was a teenager. It would probably freak her the fuck out.

  “Yet you’re here with me, I assumed you brought all the girls you date here.” She gives me a fake smile to hide her embarrassment.

  Now this line of questioning makes sense. She wants to know if this is something I do a lot, seduce beautiful women and bring them here for a weekend of sex. “No, no other girls, Sydney. Just you. You make me want to take time off from work.” I push her down on the poolside chair and roll her hot little body underneath mine. My tortured cock responds immediately.

  “Miss Allen, I do believe we’re wearing too many clothes for this tropical heat. What do you say we fix that?”

  I can’t wait any longer to have her. Sitting next to her for four hours on that plane nearly killed me. My fingers are literally itching to touch her skin. I lean my head down and bite along her slender neck, her scent, amplified by the hot sun is driving me mad with lust.

  She moans and throws her head back so I can have better access to her throat. Her voice is raspy and needy, “Mr. Forrester, I couldn’t agree more.”

  That’s all I need to hear from her to ignite the throbbing that I’ve been trying to ignore since I walked through her front door and she gave me her fuck-me eyes. I pull off my coat and throw it on a nearby chair and quickly shuck my shoes and socks.

  Sydney is lying on the lounge chair, watching me with her wide blue eyes like I’m the predator and she’s waiting for me to pounce. She probably didn’t think I’d want to do this right here, right now, outside in the open. I can see the hesitation written on her face. She’s so easy to read sometimes, not good at schooling her features like I do so well. I also see desire, it’s rolling off of her in waves. Her gorgeous lips are parted slightly, her nipples are hard and straining against her shirt, and she keeps shifting uncomfortably on the chair as I undress.

  Fuck, she is so fucking sexy.

  Done waiting, I grab the hem of her shirt and pull it off. She doesn’t stop me or offer to help. Then I yank off my own shirt and toss it carelessly to the ground. Still standing next to her chair, I extend a hand to Sydney and she takes, letting me pull her to her feet. When I step close enough for our bodies to touch, she gazes up at me and the look she gives me makes me want to drop to my knees and worship every inch of her perfect body.

  Instead, I unfasten her jeans and lower them to the ground, then do the same with mine. I groan at the sight of her, my dick actually hurts from it. It takes everything in me to not just throw her down and fuck her senseless on that inviting lounge chair. She’s better than that though, because I wouldn’t last long and she’s looking up at me with trusting eyes. A trust I know she doesn’t give away easily, a trust that makes me want to take care of her, protect her, satisfy her completely.

  “Want to go for a swim?” I ask, staring down at her, my voice husky from desire.

  “Yes.”

  That one little word gives me the go ahead to touch her, something I’ve been dying to do. The fire building inside of me urges me to step out of my tight boxer briefs to release my aching cock from its prison. I watch Sydney’s gaze skim down my body and land right on it. Her eyes get dark and she licks her lips hungrily. I don’t think she even knows that she’s doing it.

  Christ, I need to see her. I reach out and slowly pull down the little scrap of lace that she calls underwear and unhook her bra. God, she’s fucking perfect. I want to bury myself in her and never come out.

  I hold out my hand and she takes it, letting me lead her into the warm water. Once we’re in the cool water, I push her against the edge of the pool, trapping her between my arms. She meets my gaze, but she’s nervous, like something heavy is weighing down on her.

  I know she won’t tell me what it is, so I do the only thing my fuzzy, sex-addled brain can think of; I press the length of me against her soft body and kiss her like it’s the last kiss I’ll ever have. Our tongues tangle and I suck on hers gently. When she moans, it drives me crazy with desire. My dick is as hard as a fucking rock. I can’t take her in the pool, without a condom, so I have to stop.

  I’m barely strong enough to push away from her and swim to the other side of the pool.

  “What’s wrong?” She has a hurt look on her gorgeous face. Water is dripping from her hair, running in rivulets to her pink lips, swollen from our kisses.

  Shit, she thinks she did something wrong.

  “Nothing’s wrong Sydney, I just want you so badly and I can’t have you in the pool.” My voice is strained. I rub my hand down my face in frustration.

  She swims over and wraps her arms and long legs around me, every part of her making contact with every part of me.

  “Then let’s get out,” she says. Mesmerized, I watch her tongue dart out and hold my breath as she leans in and licks from my neck up to my ear.

  Shuddering, I grip her ass and walk up the stairs and over to a huge double lounge chair, collapsing on it with her beneath me. “You’re amazing,” I tell her as I reach down for my discarded pants and pull out a condom.

  Driven by a singular goal, I rip the package open and roll the damn thing on as quickly as I can. Sydney, dripping water from the pool, moaning and writhing naked under me isn’t helping my concentration so I fumble before getting it on right.

  Once I’m ready, I reach down and run my hand over her slit. “God Sydney, you’re so wet.”

  “I want you Drew,” she whispers in her sexy fucking voice. Sydney hooks a leg over my hip and pushes down, encouraging me to hurry up. Christ, she’s killing me. My resolve shatters and I can’t wait any longer. Shifting my weight, I press into her slowly, wanting to feel every inch as it sinks into her hot tight depths.

  “Jesus,” I groan as I start to move on top of her. The slick water on our skin, the warm sun beating down on us, her scent magnified in the heat… I’ve never felt so alive during sex.

  Fascinated, I watch as she bites her bottom lip and her eyes roll up in her head while each slow thrust pulls a husky moan from her throat. She can close her eyes this time, but next time I want her to watch as I fuck her. I lean in and taste her swollen mouth. I can’t get enough of her, I don’t think I ever will.

  “Drew,” she cries out as I thrust harder and nearly burst at the sound of my name on her lips. She starts to spasm around my cock and I know she’s there. With Sydney pulling me with her, a jolt of white hot pleasure streaks down my spine and I join her in falling over the edge.

  It takes us a minute to catch our breath, then I roll to the side, afraid that I’m crushing her. She’s so tiny, I’m sure my weight isn’t easy for her to bear.

  “Hungry?” I ask.

  “Famished,” she responds with a brilliant smile, not seeming to give a damn about having been trapped underneath me.

  After our very satisfying workout, we decide to make a grilled chicken salad for lunch. Sydney has already admitted that she can’t cook, so I show her how to make the salad while I manage the grill. I can barely focus on the food as she struts around the kitchen in a barely there yellow bikini, miles of her creamy flesh exposed for my visual pleasure. I just had her twenty minutes ago and my dick is hard again already.

  Shit! Stop thinking about sex, Forrester.

  I’m taking the chicken off of the grill when I hear her speak to me from inside. “So your friend, where does he live? Is he in New York? I’d love to meet him and find out who decorated this place.”

  Cautiously balancing the plate of chicken, I walk through the open living area and bring the it into the kitchen.

  “Chad lives in L.A,” I answer as approach her.

  When I lean against the large island next to her scattered bowls of salad ingredients, I realize that she hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said. My focus flicks up to her face and I instantly recognize
that look in her eyes. She’s checking me out, her gaze roving up and down my body. In a hurry to make something to eat, I threw on just a loose pair of shorts and Sydney’s greedy eyes are currently all over my chest and abs.

  “What? Who’s Chad?” She snaps out of her daydream with a confused look on her face.

  It’s too tempting to pass up. I smirk at Sydney and put the plate of chicken on the countertop, having decided to mess with her. I lean in close, so close that I can smell her flushed skin and the scent of sex from our tryst.

  “Were you just eye-fucking me, Miss Allen?”

  I lean back and watch amused, as she turns a million different shades of red before quickly turning her focus back to the lettuce that she’s tearing apart and tossing onto plates. “Ummmm, I’m not sure what you mean,” she sputters.

  She was definitely eye-fucking me.

  Certain that my presence has affected her, I slowly reach my arm in front of her and grab a piece of fruit out of a bowl on the other side of Sydney, making sure that my naked upper body brushes against her exposed skin. I toss it in my mouth I speak quietly, whispering into her ear and smiling when I see a small shiver escape.

  “Okay, we can play it that way, Sydney,” I drawl. Laughing, I start chopping the chicken, satisfied that I’ve wound her up as much as I always am when she’s near. “Chad, the guy who owns this house, you asked me where he lives and I said Los Angeles.”

  “Oh. Where in L.A.?” she asks, her voice a little shaky from my teasing.

  A quick splash of vinaigrette and I’ve finished up the salads. Sydney grabs them and spins on her heel, fleeing to the outdoor table to avoid her embarrassment. She’s so fucking cute.

  Chuckling, I follow her out with our drinks and put them down as I sit. “Brentwood,” I mumble between bites, answering her previous question.

 

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