Summer's Lease: Escape to paradise with this swoony summer romance: (Shakespeare Sisters)

by Carrie Elks

  ‘You scared me.’ Her voice was mangled by the fact her mouth was still full of paste. A little more escaped from the corner of her lips.

  Sam smiled, leaning his shoulder on the doorjamb. ‘You missed a bit.’ He gestured at her mouth.

  ‘Can’t a girl get a bit of privacy?’ They were doing this all backwards. She hadn’t even made love with him yet and he was already seeing her at her worst. OK, so technically she’d fallen asleep with him, but apart from that they’d only fooled around.

  Whatever ‘fooled around’ meant. Because it didn’t seem foolish at all to her.

  ‘You were taking too long.’ He sounded petulant. ‘And I wanted to see you.’

  She frowned. ‘And I want to see you, too. But not right now.’ More spittle found its way out. ‘Just go outside for a minute, let me finish up in here.’

  Sam threw his hands up as if in surrender. ‘Hey, don’t blame me if you brush your teeth like a two-year-old.’

  She picked up her toothbrush and held it in front of her, wielding it as if it was a weapon. ‘Get out!’

  When she finally emerged from the bathroom, teeth cleaned and face scrubbed, Sam was sitting on her bed, thumbing through a book on writing he’d found on her table. Cesca felt strangely naked. It wasn’t the fact she was wearing sleep shorts and a vest top, nor the fact she was make-up free. No, it was her soul that felt exposed and vulnerable.

  ‘Hey.’ He looked up as she walked in, a smile on his face. ‘You look pretty.’

  Cesca frowned. ‘Liar.’

  ‘Why do girls always doubt a guy when he says that? What’s not to like when you’ve washed off your make-up and put your hair in a bun? It’s cute, it’s sexy. It’s real.’ He reached out for her. ‘And when you do that funny little twisty thing with your mouth, it’s even sexier.’

  ‘What funny little twisty thing?’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the bed, grimacing.

  ‘That one.’ He reached out to touch her lips. ‘It’s cute.’

  ‘I thought we’d talked about cute. I hate that word.’

  Sam placed the briefest of kisses on her lips. ‘It doesn’t mean the same in America as it does in England. It’s a compliment.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do.’ He brushed the hair from her shoulder and kissed her neck. ‘Cute means wholesome yet sexy. The kind of girl you want to take home to your mom just as soon as you can bear for her to get dressed.’

  Cesca coughed out a laugh. ‘At least you don’t take them to meet your mum naked.’

  ‘I’ve never taken a girl to meet my mom.’ The expression on his face told her he was serious. ‘Never wanted to.’

  ‘What about that girl . . . oh God, I can’t remember her name. The one who plays the shop girl in Summer Breeze?’

  ‘Katya? We were never an item.’

  ‘But the newspapers said you were,’ Cesca said. Then, noticing his incredulous expression, she hastily added, ‘And I know you shouldn’t believe everything you read, but it seemed like a done deal, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I thought you avoided all mention of me for six years. Anyway, I try to avoid getting too close to anybody in the business.’ His voice was thick. ‘Most of the girls over there only want you for one thing.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘One thing?’

  ‘You’ve got a dirty mind.’ He laughed, though it sounded hollow. ‘No, they want you to help their careers. Everybody in Hollywood is a user. It’s almost impossible to have a normal relationship there.’

  Her face fell. ‘Not everybody. My sister’s there, remember?’

  ‘But she’s not an actress, right?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Then maybe she’s different.’ He smiled. ‘Like you.’

  Sam’s eyes flashed as he stared at her, his pupils dilating. He blinked twice, his long lashes sweeping down, and Cesca’s chest started to ache from holding her breath.

  ‘You’re very beautiful, Cesca Shakespeare.’

  ‘I am?’ Her breath, once released from her lungs, came out in short puffs. She felt like an old wreck of a car stop-starting down the street.

  ‘You really are.’ Sam cradled her face between his hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting his touch consume her. Then his breath was warming her lips, his mouth barely touching hers. This time his kiss was soft, gentle, the tip of his tongue dancing along the seam of her mouth, and Cesca found herself rising to it, kissing him back, inviting him for more.

  Sam pushed her back on the bed and they were a tangle of limbs, their bodies pressed together as their kisses became more urgent. And for long minutes they lay together, hands tangled in each other’s hair as they continued to embrace.

  Cesca wrapped her bare legs around Sam’s hips. She could feel his hardness straining against her, the friction heating her up. He was moving his hips now, a soft gyration that was making Cesca sigh. Her hands feathered down his back, her fingers stroking his spine. Then they were grabbing his arse, digging in, pulling him against her until she moaned.

  Sliding her hands beneath the waistband of his pyjamas, Cesca pressed her palms against his skin. Encouraging him, pushing him, whispering words of desire. Sam’s own hands were pulling down the straps of her vest top, pushing the fabric to her waist. Then their bare chests pressed together, flesh on flesh, and the sensation made them both frantic.

  Sam’s thumb hooked around her flannel shorts. He slipped them under the elastic waistband, his knuckles nudging her hips. ‘Is this OK?’ He stopped kissing her long enough for their eyes to meet. His expression was rapt, his mouth swollen from their embrace. Cesca nodded rapidly, lifting up her hips in encouragement.

  He knelt back, running his hands down her body. His lips followed them, kissing and teasing, spending long moments on her nipples until they were so hard they were almost painful. Then he moved down, his lips creating a trail of desire down her chest then her stomach, little kisses and licks that drove her crazy. His fingers dipped further, grazing against her core, his thumb rolling and rubbing in circles until she felt as though her whole body was humming. Then his mouth was there, soft brushes of his lips at first, then a deeper, teasing, lick. She started to lift her hips in time, his hands holding onto her behind, supporting her as she bucked.

  ‘Sam.’ Her voice was a sigh. ‘Oh God, Sam.’

  She was getting closer now. Her whole body was pulled tight, like an over-tuned instrument. Taut and highly strung, ready to unravel. Sam played her hard, getting ready for the crescendo, and she felt her thighs tense at the oncoming wave.

  ‘I want you to make love to me,’ she whispered, not sure if he could hear. She tugged at his hair and Sam lay his head on her thigh, looking up at her.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She liked the way he kept asking. He was handing her the reins, telling her they’d move at whatever speed she wanted. ‘I’m certain.’

  ‘I need to get a condom. Don’t move, OK?’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ She closed her eyes and waited for him, her toes curling at the feeling of desire that kept shooting down her legs. Her thighs ached from wanting him between them. He was back in less than a minute, settling between her legs, and she found herself curling her own around his hips.

  There was that moment, that desperate pause, when he pressed his tip against her, waiting for her body to acquiesce. She breathed it in, tasted their desire, waiting desperately for him to slide inside.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ Sam kissed her, still waiting to make the final move. He was teasing her, making her crazy with desire, and she loved it.

  ‘So are you.’ She moved her hips, encouraging him in. Sam smiled against her mouth. He moved a hand down to her side, stilling her, circling his cock around until she was almost begging.

  ‘Sam . . . ’

  He was enjoying this too much. But then so was she. He kissed her again, digging his fingers into her hipbone as he slowly slid inside.

 
Cesca moaned into his lips as the pleasure hit her deep inside. The warmth was spreading, from her stomach, radiating out to her breasts, her thighs, her toes. Then he was moving, thrusting into her, and she clung onto him, feeling everything start to rise. Her hands were shaking, her head falling back, Sam’s name escaping from her mouth like a litany.

  ‘Sam, Sam, Sam . . . ’

  ‘Yes, baby.’ He was breathless, still moving inside her. Every time he withdrew he slid deliciously against her, drawing her pleasure out inch by inch.

  ‘I can’t . . . I’m going . . . I . . . I . . . ’

  Her words disappeared as she tensed beneath him, her hips rising up so her back was arched away from the mattress. It was as though every muscle in her body was clenching, moving to the rhythm of her orgasm, drawing out the intensity as fireworks sparked beneath her eyes. When she opened them Sam was staring at her, an unfathomable look on his face. She stared back at him, wondering if for him this was merely physical. Or was he feeling the emotional connection as much as she was? From the way he was looking at her, she had to believe he did.

  Then he was falling, too, letting out a deep moan as he spilled inside her. His head dropped to her shoulder, his teeth digging into her flesh, as her skin tingled beneath his lips. She liked his weight on her, his firmness, the way he had given as much of himself to her as she had to him.

  She closed her eyes, feeling tears pricking at them. She didn’t know where the emotion had come from. Swallowing it down, she willed the tears to go away, to dry up before Sam could see them.

  There was being vulnerable, and there was cutting your chest open and letting someone else tear your heart out. She could do the first one. The second? It remained to be seen.

  She’d fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d cleaned himself up, disposing of the condom and washing himself in her bathroom. He’d climbed back into bed with her, feeling her body soft and pliant against his as she curled into him, her head nestling against his shoulder.

  He wasn’t used to spending the night with somebody. It had never really been his thing. He liked his own space, his own bed, having room enough to spread out. But it felt right, having her here.

  For now.

  Cesca sighed in her sleep, moving closer into him. He put his arm around her shoulder, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his. She was warm and supple against his naked body, and he glanced at the clock, wondering how long he would be able to hold off wanting her again.

  Sam hadn’t come into her room with the intention of making love to her. Like last night, having her body curled around his would have been enough. But she was like a drug, one taste and he wanted more. The problem was, drugs were bad for him.

  And so were women.

  Since his confessions yesterday, Cesca had tried a few times to mention his family, and he’d cut her off. Made a joke, changed the subject, pressed his lips to hers. Anything to quieten the incessant thoughts in his brain. Reminding him that making himself vulnerable only led to pain.

  In Hollywood, vipers wore pretty clothes, and whispered sweet things until you spilled all your secrets. Here in Italy? He didn’t think so. But it didn’t stop him panicking every time she mentioned his family.

  Cesca’s eyes fluttered open. She caught his gaze, a slow smile breaking out across her lips. Her hand brushed against his chest. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

  He took a deep breath, returning her smile. ‘You did.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That was rude of me.’

  Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘That was the least rude thing you did all night.’

  She coughed out a laugh. ‘Sam!’

  He liked this part. It was as easy as the sun rising in the morning. They talked, they laughed, they made love, and it all felt so natural. It was the thinking he didn’t like, the analysing. Having to face things he’d long since tried to ignore.

  The answer was simple, really. He wouldn’t do it. Better to concentrate on the here and now. To kiss those luscious lips that were curled up in front of him. To ravish Cesca’s naked body as she curled against his own.

  Her hand fluttered down from his chest, along his abdomen and between his thighs. Sam closed his eyes as she wrapped her palm around him, her thumb caressing his tip as he hardened in her grasp.

  Letting the excitement wash over him, Sam reached for Cesca, drawing her to him so he could kiss her hard. The worries of a few moments before washed out of his mind on a tide of lust, replaced by a need that pulsed through his body.

  He wanted her. Now. Everything else could wait.

  25

  And summer’s lease hath all too short a date

  – Sonnet XVIII

  Cesca stopped typing, sat back and stared at the screen. A shiver snaked its way down her spine, lingering at the base, making her shift in her chair.

  The End.

  She’d done it. OK, so it was only a first draft, and more than anybody else she knew it needed a lot of work, even with Sam’s editing. But to see those words written on the screen was almost impossible to take in. She’d never thought she’d type them again.

  She blinked a couple of times, her eyes watering with emotion. She didn’t like crying – she never had – and to do it over a play seemed stupid. And yet still they formed, little droplets pooling at the rim of her eyes, threatening to spill over any moment.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Sam asked, alerted no doubt by the silence from her lack of typing. ‘Shall we take a break?’

  Shaking her head, Cesca swallowed the lump in her throat before answering him. ‘I’m OK, I think. I just . . . ’ She trailed off, needing to check the screen again, to persuade herself she’d really written those words. ‘I just finished the first draft.’

  His laughter sounded relieved. ‘I thought something terrible had happened.’ He squatted beside her, reading the words out loud. ‘The End. That’s fantastic.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So did the main couple get together?’

  Cesca tipped her head to the side. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  ‘Yes I would, and I’m going to find out. And if you ended up tearing them apart just for the sake of dramatic impact, I may have to rewrite it for you.’

  She grinned. ‘You old romantic. Who would have thought the hard-nosed Hollywood actor wanted a happy-ever-after?’

  ‘I’ve got a vested interest in this,’ he reminded her.

  ‘You have?’ She was teasing him, her eyes dancing as her gaze caught his.

  ‘Yeah. We’ve been working on this story together. And that guy, he deserves to make the heroine happy. Not break her heart.’ He eyed her carefully. ‘If he did, I’d have to beat him up or something.’

  ‘That’s very gallant of you,’ she murmured. ‘Threatening to beat up a make-believe character. I should be swooning or something.’

  Sam flexed his bicep muscles, a grin lingering at his mouth. ‘I’ll always fight off fictional characters for you, babe.’

  ‘And there I was thinking you’d run for the hills.’

  ‘Just because I did it once before, doesn’t mean I’d abandon you again.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I’m not an asshole. Not any more.’

  She closed her eyes as his mouth moved from her hair to her neck, lips sliding across her skin. Goose pimples broke out as his hands brushed their way down her shoulders, caressing her arms before moving around to her chest.

  ‘We’re supposed to be working,’ she murmured.

  ‘You’ve finished,’ Sam whispered into her neck. ‘And I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than this, can you?’

  No, she really couldn’t. Cesca closed her eyes as Sam slid his hands beneath her vest top. It had been like this for the past week, ever since she’d woken up in his arms the morning after they’d first made love. When they weren’t talking, sharing stories, their hands were all over each other. It was as though they could never get enough, but they were going to try anyway.

  It was like b
eing in a perpetual state of bliss. Light-bulb moments when you discovered something new, followed by the bonding that only mutual understanding could bring. They had so much in common, both being brought up in the theatre, and nearly everybody that one of them mentioned had connections with the other.

  In the past week they’d had long days, talking about plays and exchanging stories, as Cesca worked at the computer. And at night they’d eaten well, then curled up together, sharing hopes and dreams before they shared their naked bodies. With each day that passed, she found herself falling a little further, letting Sam catch her in his willing arms.

  And she was falling, that was for certain.

  In the end, it was her body that made the decision. She turned in her chair, letting him take her into his embrace. His lips sought hers out immediately, kissing, touching, tasting. They couldn’t get enough of each other, their bodies saying what their words couldn’t. Cesca abandoned herself to the need, just like she did in the bedroom, the shower, the living room, at the beach . . . anywhere he touched her, her body would start to sing.

  ‘Tell me they have a happily-ever-after,’ Sam whispered into her lips. He pushed the straps of her top down her shoulders, revealing her tanned skin. ‘Or I’ll have to rewrite it.’

  She laughed again. ‘OK, they got a happily-ever-after. Are you happy now?’

  He moved his lips down, kissing the swell of her breasts. ‘Fucking ecstatic.’

  Later, after their lovemaking turned into a nap, Cesca found herself waking in Sam’s bed, his arms wrapped around her in a muscle-bound clinch. The room smelled of sex and Sam, a combination that made her feel warm and turned-on at the same time. For once, he was fast asleep, his mouth open as he snored quietly. Another thing she’d discovered about him; he was a terrible sleeper.

  There was a breeze coming up from the lake. It lifted the white gauze curtains covering the windows in Sam’s room, making them dance in its wake. Along with the air it brought the sounds of the lake, of the water lapping the shore, and the distant calls of people on boats. She sighed in contentment, turning in Sam’s arms to get comfortable. Another hour of sleeping, and then they would get up, and either lie in the sun or swim in the lake.