“What?”
“You won’t come to my place, so I’ll come to yours.”
“I wanted some time to think.”
He gave her a smile with a sharp edge. “Exactly what I don’t want you to do.” He stood and ran his hands up and down her arms before interlacing his fingers with hers. “You believe people care about what you and I are doing. I assure you they don’t.”
“I care.”
“Those pesky principles again.” He brushed his lips against her forehead and then her lips. “I just want you to know that while I dine with Hugh, I’ll be making plans for what I want to do to your lovely body.”
Chapter 14
Gavin strode into the den to find Hugh seated on the sectional couch reading a script. He stifled the desire to tell his old friend to go find a hotel to stay in. Gavin knew his scrupulous little Allie would think up all kinds of reasons she shouldn’t be with him, and he wouldn’t be there to banish them before they took root. The thought of never touching her again sent a shudder of near panic through him.
The actor tossed the papers aside and rose to shake Gavin’s hand with a strong grip. “It’s good of you to take me in without any notice.”
“I hardly think you’d be at a loss for housing if I tossed you out on the street,” Gavin said.
“Your temperament hasn’t improved, I see.” Hugh stepped back to give Gavin a hard survey with those famous turquoise blue eyes. “You don’t look like hell.”
Gavin laughed. “A resounding compliment.”
Hugh sat and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other with the same elegance that he brought to the Julian Best role. “A lot of people are worried about you.”
Gavin sprawled in a chair opposite him, leaning forward to grab a bottle of beer from the tray on the coffee table. “Friends or enemies?”
“Both, but why should you care what your enemies think?”
“Irene came to visit a few days ago.” Gavin took a long pull from the bottle.
A look of distaste crossed Hugh’s saturnine features.
“How do you manage the love scenes when you feel that way about her?” Gavin asked.
“Superb acting.” Hugh lifted his beer in a mock toast to himself. “What did she want?”
“I think Greg sent her to try and drag another Julian Best novel out of me.”
“Even Greg wouldn’t be that stupid. He heard what happened at the funeral.”
“It’s not stupidity . . . it’s greed.” Gavin took a swig of beer. “What’s the gossip mill got to say?”
“That you’re burned out on Julian. There are rumors about hiring a ghostwriter to produce a new script.”
Gavin stood and paced over to the window, staring out at the winter-bare branches of the trees in his garden. “They can’t. I own Julian—lock, stock, and barrel. Jane made sure of that.”
“You, of all people, know how much money Julian generates. No one is going to give that up without a major battle.”
Gavin spun to face Hugh. “Aren’t you tired of playing the suave, indestructible super spy?”
“Not at all,” Hugh said. “It’s an iconic role.”
Gavin went back to garden-gazing. “I didn’t know what a responsibility it would be.”
“Walk away. You’ve launched careers, generated box-office gold, and lined the pockets of many an agent and producer. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
Gavin shook his head. “Not like this. Not when the damned movie ended with a giant question mark.” He was tempted to tell Hugh about the recent feeble stirrings of his creativity, but he was afraid to touch the fragile feeling in case he killed it.
“What is it? Irene?”
“I threw her out.” Gavin remembered the astonished expression on her beautiful face and felt a flicker of satisfaction.
“More people should.”
Gavin pivoted to lean his shoulder against the window frame. “You mentioned the PSA. Are you here for the kids, too?”
One thing Gavin and Hugh shared was a difficult childhood, although Gavin suspected Hugh’s had been far worse than his. The actor spent a lot of time and money helping disadvantaged children. Hugh would undoubtedly visit several of the many shelters he funded, but no one would know about that except the kids and staff. He didn’t do it for the photo ops.
Hugh gave Gavin a look that said he knew the subject was being changed deliberately. “A fund-raiser . . . which you are not donating a penny to. You gave far too generously at the last one.”
“It’s only money.” Gavin believed in giving back. No one should keep as much money as he had.
Hugh swirled his beer in the bottle. “Too bad it doesn’t buy happiness.” He laughed without humor. “I don’t know where the hell that came from.”
“From the heart.” Gavin came back to his chair. “Shall we talk about it?”
“I’m just in the doldrums because I’m between movies.” He gestured toward the discarded script. “Which is why I’m considering this rom com. It’s not bad. Clever dialogue, unusual setting, emotional without being sappy.”
“You let me know if you want to discuss something of importance,” Gavin said. “Shall I take a look at the script?”
Hugh slid it across the table. “Not really your genre, but I’d appreciate it.”
“I might pick up some pointers,” Gavin said, the corners of his mouth turning up. “I’ve been told that Julian needs the love of a good woman.”
Hugh gave Gavin the kind of evil smile Julian Best reserved for his enemies. “That will piss Irene off royally. Do it.”
Allie skimmed the lint roller across the quilt on her bed while Pie complained outside the closed bedroom door. Gavin might not be allergic to cat hairs, but she’d winced at the number that had adhered to his wool trousers when he sat on her bed.
Excitement buzzed through her at the prospect of seeing Gavin again soon, overcoming the fatigue caused by a night of making love and an afternoon of wrestling with her conscience.
Technically, Gavin was no longer a patient of hers as of Friday, but she knew how she had thought about him all week. Did that make what she had done last night and this morning wrong?
She’d reread the physical therapy code of ethics. Not surprisingly, there was no mention of the correct amount of time to wait after therapy was completed before having sex with a patient.
Part of her guilt was that Gavin needed more therapy, and she could no longer provide it. She would have to find him a new therapist . . . and that would be awkward. Not to mention that, as of tomorrow, she would be sleeping with her employer.
She moaned, slamming the lint roller against a pillow before forcing herself to face the facts. She needed money and she wanted Gavin. He’d offered her both tied up in one gorgeous package with a great big bow, and she didn’t have the strength of will to hand it back to him unopened.
Or maybe it’s that she was beginning to believe she deserved to have something good happen for a change.
Pie let out another ear-piercing meow. Allie couldn’t stand it any longer, so she opened the door. “Pick one spot and stay there,” she said as the cat leaped onto the pristine quilt.
Now she faced the daunting task of deciding what to wear to greet her rich, famous, sexy-as-hell lover. Rummaging through her closet, she nearly despaired until she pulled out a hanger that had gotten wedged behind the rest. Okay, she had shoved it to the back of the closet.
It was the skimpy black bandage dress Troy had bought her to wear for a New Year’s Eve party with his theatrical friends a few years ago. He had told her that her usual wardrobe was boring, and he wanted everyone to know he had a hot wife.
She’d worn the dress, even though she had felt uncomfortable the entire night because the tight, stretchy fabric emphasized every curve and hollow of her body. The skirt was so short that she couldn’t bend in any direction for fear her panties would be on display. Her heart had hurt as Troy strutted around with his arm imprisoning her waist,
sliding his hand down to squeeze her bottom when he saw someone watching. The whole performance had made her feel cheap and vulgar.
Now she would have the satisfaction of using the dress for her own pleasure.
She rooted around for high-heeled sandals with thin black straps that crisscrossed her arches and ankles.
Then she pulled open her lingerie drawer. She picked up black lace panties before she let a devilish grin curve her lips. She dropped the undies back in the drawer and closed it.
Allie was dressed, if you could call it that, and experimenting with hairstyles when her cell phone rang.
“Allie, I’m on my way now.” Gavin’s voice had a slight growl in it. “And I wanted to share my plans with you.”
All the breath seemed to whoosh out of her body. “Your plans?” she squeaked.
“The ones I told you I’d be working on during dinner.” He began to talk.
Allie had to sit down on the bed by the second sentence because her knees went weak. Her nipples were so hard, she could feel them pushing against the tight elastic of the dress. Inside, her desire liquefied and pooled in her belly.
“Stop,” she finally said as she lay on the bed panting. “I don’t think that’s even possible.”
He chuckled in a low, sexy rumble. “Maybe my writer’s imagination ran away with me there.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“You’ve never had phone sex before?”
“Not like this.” Troy had occasionally whispered a few dirty words into the phone when he was headed home from an audition, but he hadn’t painted a deliciously pornographic picture like Gavin’s.
“Ah, we have arrived at your doorstep.”
“We?”
“Jaros drove me.”
He hung up, and Allie tottered to the window to see Gavin cross the sidewalk with the stride of a stalking panther as the long silver Bentley pulled away from the curb. Then her intercom was pinging, and she headed for her door to buzz Gavin in.
She pulled down the hem of her dress, hoping there were no dark patches on the back from the dampness between her thighs. Her hair flowed loose over her shoulders since Gavin had interrupted her attempts at something more sophisticated. She had already turned off most of the lights and lit a few candles to give the apartment a soft glow.
Footsteps sounded outside her door before Gavin gave it a sharp, demanding knock. She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.
He stood in the ugly hospital-green hallway with his hands thrust into the pockets of his black jeans, a leather jacket open to expose a V-necked black T-shirt. The waves of his deep brown hair glistened in the fluorescent lighting. The moment he saw her, his face lit with pure lust, and his lips curled into a feral smile. A shiver of half excitement, half nerves ran through her.
He didn’t move, just let his gaze travel up and down her body before raising it to her face. “You look ravishing. And ready to be ravished.”
She stepped back so he could come in. “You look—”
He closed the door and snaked his arm around her waist, slamming her body against his before his mouth came down on hers. His tongue swept into her mouth while he stroked the length of her back with his hands. His erection was steel hard against her stomach.
All the pent-up arousal he’d built with the phone call exploded inside her. She pushed her hands under his jacket and ripped up the hem of his T-shirt so she could run her fingers over his bare skin, tracing the muscles she knew so well and making him moan so deeply it vibrated through both of them. He splayed his fingers over her lower back to grind her hips into his, sending the electric heat of pure desire searing through her. She gasped and wrapped one arm around his neck to crush her breasts against him, throwing her head back for leverage.
He skimmed his hand along her thigh and under her dress until his fingers encountered the bare curve of her bottom. He went still for a split second before he hissed in a breath. “Only very bad girls don’t wear panties. And I love very bad girls.” He slid his hand higher, bunching the material of her skirt on his wrist as he kneaded her buttock.
He lowered his head to speak beside her ear, his breath blowing hot against her skin. “You know what I want to do to you right now?”
She swallowed and shook her head in a tiny motion.
“I want to bend you over the arm of your sofa, shove this dress up to your waist, and come into you from behind, hard and fast.” As he spoke he slipped his fingers between her thighs, sliding easily inside her. “And you’re so wet that I think you want the same thing.”
“Oh God, yes,” she gasped.
Before she could turn, he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her the few yards into her living room, setting her on her high heels facing the rolled arm of the sofa. He stood close behind her to cup her breasts, his thumbs tweaking her tight nipples so lightning seemed to streak from there to the knot of longing between her legs.
“Gavin, I want you inside me.” She leaned into his hands, bracing her arms on the couch as she angled forward.
He pulled his hands away as she bent farther over. She heard the whine of a zipper and the rip of foil. Then he made good on his desire to yank her dress to her waist, so she could feel the denim of his jeans against her thighs and the brush of cool air against her bare bottom. She felt the tip of his cock as he positioned himself, his hands gripping her hips, and then he thrust into her with one powerful, exquisite stroke, both sating and magnifying the wanting within her.
“Again!” She spread her thighs farther apart to let him come in deeper.
He withdrew nearly to the tip before driving in again. She tightened her inner muscles around him, ratcheting her own pleasure higher as he growled, “You will be punished for that.”
He gave her bottom a light smack that made her squeal in surprise. And then he withdrew and slammed into her fast, hitting some perfect angle that made her insides begin to clench. She pressed back into him so her clit found more friction. He tilted his hips to help her as he increased the rhythm of his strokes, sending her over the edge into a mad convulsion of an orgasm. She buried her face in the cushion to muffle her scream of release.
Almost immediately, he seated himself fully in her, and she felt the pulse of his climax while he roared his own pleasure. He stayed inside her, his hands spanning her hips, as she panted and shuddered through the delicious aftermath of satisfaction. She let out a long, low hum of pleasure when he slowly slid out of her. She felt the touch of his palms skimming over the curves of her bottom, and then he eased the dress down to cover her.
She didn’t expect that gesture. The courtesy of it made tears prick behind her eyelids. She started to straighten, pushing up with her elbows, and Gavin was there, helping her out of the now-awkward position.
He turned her into him and wrapped his arms around her. “That was far better than anything my imagination could conjure up,” he said, his heart thundering against her ear.
All she could do was nod against his chest. Her brain hadn’t yet regained full functionality after their wild, mind-blowing encounter.
He moved her to the couch and settled them both so she was on his lap. The soft denim that stretched over the hard muscles of his thighs rubbed against the sensitive spot between her legs, and she sucked in a breath as sparks shimmered through her.
He started to shift her, but she shook her head. “This is perfect.”
“That’s the word I was looking for.”
Allie’s eyes closed as the rhythm of his breathing slowed and steadied. And then she felt soft little paws on her bare thighs and started to giggle.
“What?” Gavin asked, his voice heavy with satiation.
“We have company.” Allie opened her eyes as Pie tried to find a comfortable way to recline on the abbreviated skirt of her dress. The cat was small, but the dress was smaller, so the cat’s back half was on Allie’s bare skin. Something about the juxtaposition of sweet, cozy cat and tight, slutty spandex made Allie giggle
harder.
“That’s not the reaction I was looking for,” Gavin said. But he stroked Pie’s gray fur. The cat’s contented purr vibrated against her thighs.
“I-it’s h-hard to b-be a f-femme fatale with a cat c-curled up on my s-slut dress,” Allie said, laughter interrupting her speech.
“You looked like a femme fatale just wearing your PT outfit,” Gavin said.
That threw a bucket of cold water over Allie’s giggles, and she stiffened. “I didn’t do anything unprofessional.”
“No, and it was damned frustrating.”
“Seriously.” She pulled away from him so she could see his face. “I didn’t indicate in any way that I wanted to . . . to do . . . this.” She gestured at her dress.
He muttered a curse that included Hugh’s name. “I knew this was going to happen.” He tilted his head to kiss the side of her neck. “No more thinking.”
“I don’t feel right about this,” Allie said, trying to ignore the rippling pleasure his lips were creating on her skin.
He sighed against her, his warm breath sending the ripples wider. “And I haven’t felt anything so right in a long time.” He let her pull a few inches away before saying, “Scruples are very inconvenient.”
“Will you let me find you a new PT?” Allie needed to do something to assuage her guilt.
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“I see the way you hold yourself and wince when you think no one’s looking. You still need physical therapy, but I can’t be your therapist.” She gave his chest a gentle thump with her palm.
“I don’t see why. Who the hell would know if you’re still doing therapy with me?” There was a growl of irritation in his voice.
“I would.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the ceiling. When he returned his gaze to her, his look and tone were pure seduction. “There are all different kinds of therapy, you know.”
“My degree isn’t in sex therapy, so you’re out of luck with that,” she said.
The VIP Doubles Down (Wager of Hearts Book 3) Page 15