The afternoon sunlight shone on my face and revealed the buildings and bustling streets below. We were so high up that I was in danger of experiencing vertigo. Despite the sex-fueled haze clouding my mind, I still felt paranoid about the glass being strong enough to withstand what Hunter was about to do.
Without warning, he slammed into me from behind and I cried out, my fingers scrabbling at the smooth glass. I squeezed my eyes shut as my body pushed against the window each time Hunter plunged into me with relentless force. The exhibitionist nature of our fucking felt like some sort of declaration to the world outside – I belonged to Hunter Cox. When he claimed me fiercely and possessively, shuddering as he came inside me, I belatedly registered that he hadn’t used a condom. In fact, he hadn’t used one in a while.
It definitely made the sex better. But it did also make me wonder if he was trying to get me pregnant.
Depleted, I leaned against the cool glass as Hunter leaned into my back, just enjoying the feel of our sweaty bodies molded to each other. People in the surrounding buildings had probably gotten an eyeful of my squashed breasts, maybe even an entire free porn show, but I didn’t care. The only person that mattered to me was Hunter.
It only mattered that we were together.
“Hmm, that was very nice,” I whispered, bringing his hands to my breasts. “Can we do that one more time before I leave?”
Hunter kissed my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin. “Only one more time? We’ve still got three hours left, babe. And I fully intend to use every minute of it.” He lifted me up, gripping my arse as I wound my legs around his hips. After carrying me into the shower, he fucked me senseless beneath the pelting showerhead until I could no longer stand straight on the slippery wet tiles.
Chapter 18
At eight in the evening, Eric and I were seated at a small table covered with red tablecloth. The wooden chairs and general rustic ambience of the trattoria made me feel relaxed, happy even. Or maybe it was because of all the love my pussy had been getting for the past few hours.
I hid a smile, then winced slightly at the soreness between my legs. Damn you, Hunter, I thought as I casually reached for my water. You’re just too fucking good.
Sitting opposite from me, Eric was looking quite elegant in his gray suit and black tie. It was painfully apparent that he was out of place here. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was a lot more genial than when we’d first met. I wouldn’t be surprised if Roxy had forced him to meet me then. He’d probably thought I was one of those young and annoying aspiring writers who relied on connections and expected special treatment.
No matter his first impressions of me, I was just grateful that he loved my novel enough to give me a chance.
I ordered puttanesca and a glass of Chardonnay. Eric, on the other hand, had a bigger appetite than I did – he ordered soup, capellini with pomodoro sauce, a pizza margherita, and tiramisu for dessert. And of course, three glasses of Merlot to accompany his evening meal.
With open envy, I wondered just how he managed to stay so slim.
“Tell me, Rosemary,” Eric said, dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin, “are you currently represented by a literary agent?”
“I’m afraid not,” I said, slightly embarrassed. Truth was, I’d queried numerous agents right after graduation. But then I’d met Helen Archer, who’d offered me my current job and promised to send my drafts to her agent. Unsurprisingly, nothing ever did come of it, and I’d been stuck in this thankless position ever since. But I did have six unpublished manuscripts sitting on my desk at home. I told Eric all this as I dutifully twirled the pasta strands around my fork.
He seemed taken aback. “Helen Archer? The romance writer who wrote The Aristocrat’s Forbidden Love series?”
I held back a snicker. “Have you read them, Mr. Steinberg?”
He grimaced, then sipped at his wine in a manly sort of fashion. “Please, call me Eric. And no, I haven’t read the series. They’re not my cup of tea, shall we say. But my previous girlfriends used to read them in bed.”
It felt strange to get a brief glimpse into his personal life. “Well, I have to read them because it’s part of my job. I’m her beta reader, proofreader, and overall personal slave at her beck and call 24/7.”
“What a splendid deal you got.”
“Don’t you think so? I mean, who could ask for more?”
“I wholeheartedly agree. It’s the job of a lifetime.” His mouth twitched as he raised his wineglass to his lips.
For the rest of the evening, our conversation grew more comfortable and veered into the personal. He asked about Sydney and my relationship with Hunter, and I asked about his student days at Yale. Somewhere in our conversation, my book was brought up twice. He told me how much he loved my mystery plot and his interest in publishing it. Wyman and Steinberg Publishing, he told me, excelled at young adult, historical, and women’s fiction titles. He believed my novel would be best placed in the category of the latter.
“Women’s fiction?” I said, surprised.
He nodded. “Well, psychological women’s fiction. To be honest, I was a bit thrown off that someone your age could write such a mature novel about the human psyche.” He reached across the table and held my hand. “Rosemary, I think we have a winner here.”
I was stunned by his absolute faith in my work. Red-faced and flattered, I mumbled my thanks and focused on finishing my puttanesca.
It was nearly eleven when we stepped outside into the sidewalk. Before getting into his limo (I hadn’t realized he’d employed a chauffeur service), he paused to take my hands.
“I’m glad Roxy introduced us at that ghastly party. I have to admit, my trip to Los Angeles was worth it.” He leaned over and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. “You’re unconventionally pretty, Rosemary. Not like the women I usually date, but I find myself quite taken with you.”
This time, he leaned in for another kiss that was unquestionable in its message.
Eric Steinberg wanted me. Not just my book, but also my body.
And finally, I understood what Roxy had been planning all along.
Sleep with Eric Steinberg and become a famous novelist, or stay with Hunter but become an unpublished failure.
It was the same threat she’d made toward Hunter – fuck her and have a rising Hollywood career, or become a pariah in the industry.
He could always find another agent, and I could find another publisher. But it would be a huge setback for the both of us.
“Mr. Steinberg –”
“Eric.”
“Yes, of course.” I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I . . . I have a boyfriend. You know that.”
He ran a thumb across my bottom lip. “There is such a thing as open relationships, Rosemary. I’m currently in one. Maybe you’d like to do the same.” When I didn’t reply, he brought his hand up and gently lifted my chin. “Think about it?”
I nodded, even though I had no intention of doing so. There was no way I would cheat on Hunter.
Eric slid into the backseat of the limo. “I’m returning to New York tomorrow morning, but I’ll give you a call sometime next week. Try to find an agent willing to represent you by then.” And with a smile, he closed the door and settled in as the chauffeur drove down the busy street.
I stood there staring at the back of the limo. My ultimate dream of being published was just within my reach, but it came with an extra offer I’d never expected.
It was nearly midnight when I reached the penthouse and crawled into bed. Hunter was already asleep, his long, naked body tangled among the twisted sheets. I planted a kiss on his round, muscular arse, waking him up in the process.
“Sorry to wake you,” I whispered, planting another kiss on the other cheek. Blinking, Hunter rolled over to glance down at me. I smiled at him through my lashes. “You went to bed early.”
“I was tired.”
My smile widened. “After our exhausting afternoon?”
H
e closed his eyes and nodded sleepily.
He was so beautiful that my heart ached. I shed off my clothes and joined him in bed, pressing my naked body against his as I inhaled his clean male scent. With a sigh, he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer.
“How was dinner?” he murmured.
I paused, wondering what to say. “Dinner was okay. I mean, the food there is always nice. But . . .”
Hunter immediately raised himself on his elbow, gazing down at me. “What is it? What happened?”
And so I told him. Eric Steinberg’s genuine excitement over my manuscript, his open interest in sleeping with me, and finally, my suspicions that Roxy had introduced him to me for this sole purpose.
“I knew she was up to something,” Hunter said angrily, fully awake now. “I’m so tired of her fucking around like this.”
“Getting published with Wyman and Steinberg is a pretty big deal,” I said carefully. “I just have to make it clear to Eric that I’m not interested in him that way, that’s all.”
“On a first-name basis now, are we? Trust me, Roe, guys like him don’t have the slightest clue what ‘no’ means.” Hunter was looking at me like I was the stupidest little girl on the planet.
“Stop treating me like a child.” I snapped, starting to get a little pissed myself. “I know what I’m doing.”
He snorted and crossed his arms.“I highly doubt that.”
Arsehole! I wanted to smack the arrogant expression off his face. “And I suppose you know what you’re doing?” I threw my hands in the air. “What am I saying? Of course you do, since you’re doing such a stellar job of keeping Roxy off your golden dick!”
An awful silence fell between us as we glared at each other.
Hunter was furious. “Did you just demote me from Greek god to golden dick? Is that all I am now? A fucking appendage?”
“A fucking golden appendage.” I angrily corrected him.
The ludicrousness of our heated exchange finally registered in the saner part of our brains. Exhaling a half laugh, half groan, Hunter fell back onto his pillows.
I joined him a short while later, pressing up against him. “I’ve heard it’s not an attractive look when naked couples fight.”
“Yeah? And why is that?”
“Because of all the swinging parts and jiggly flesh.”
Groaning, Hunter rolled on top of me. “Roe, you’ve got to stop talking. Fighting naked is always a good thing. You want to know why? Because there’s make up sex. Wild, uninhibited, stay-up-all-night sex. So don’t ruin that with talk about someone’s jiggly bits, all right?”
“Deal. But only if you say you trust me.”
“You know I trust you. I just don’t trust slimy fuckers who proposition my girlfriend.”
“And I don’t trust Roxy after what she did, but I trust you to handle it.” I countered softly. “It’s why I haven’t said anything even though she should be long gone by now.”
“You’re right, as always.” Hunter sighed, burying his face in my neck. “So what do we do?”
I ran my hands down his bare back. “We keep going forward. But we’ll always tell each other everything. No secrets between us. And we’ll be each other’s confidant and make important decisions together. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good so far.” He pulled back to stare into my eyes. “But no open relationships. I’m kind of old-fashioned that way.”
My smile turned to a pleasurable moan as Hunter palmed my breasts. “I can’t,” I whispered, my voice filled with regret. “I’m still too sore from yesterday.”
“Then I’ll just play with you.” He squeezed my breasts, bringing them closer to his face. With a wicked grin, he dug the tip of his wet tongue into one nipple, then the other one, making them grow hard instantly.
I instinctively arched my back to give Hunter better access, but he pulled back from me.
“No. No, no, no, come back,” I whispered pleadingly. “Where are you going?”
“I said I was only going to play.”
“Then play!” I said wildly. “Why are you stopping?”
He lifted a brow. “We both know it won’t stop there. Besides, didn’t you say you were too sore?”
I pulled his head back down to my breasts. “Did I? I don’t remember saying that.”
Hunter gave me a sexy look as he slowly brushed his upper lip across an aching nipple, his breath warm on my skin. “You like that?”
“Yes. Don’t stop,” I begged him.
So for the next couple of hours, Hunter played with me, mercilessly teasing my writhing body with only his tongue and mouth.
Chapter 19
Four Months Later
Life was slowly heading in a direction that made me more hopeful about my future. For instance, five days ago, I quit my personal assistant job. When Helen Archer found out that I had signed a three-book deal with Wyman and Steinberg Publishing, she threw a fit. I didn’t know which pissed her off more – that she had to find another assistant, or that I was going to be a full-time writer. At any rate, it was probably one of the happiest days of my life.
Hunter’s latest ad campaign for a major men’s fragrance was splashed across buses, subway stations, and fancy magazines throughout the country, propelling him to even greater heights of popularity. His Instagram followers jumped to fifteen million, much to Roxy’s delight. Yes, that woman was still around, but I had to hand it to her – as an agent, she was doing one hell of a job. It was no wonder Hunter put up with her crazy shit.
It felt weird to have all this free time to myself. I was so used to rising up at six in the morning and dashing out the front door that for the first few days, I didn’t know what to do. I ate breakfast in bed and watched a ton of reality shows, dressed only in a tank top and panties. This routine grew old quickly, so I began to badger Stacy and Lorenzo into meeting me for lunch and coffee. We sat outside small cafes, drinking one latte after another as Lorenzo smoked like a chimney and opined on the delicate relationship between creator and muse. According to Stacy, he was moonlighting as a nude art model on top of his usual cuddling gigs. In other words, Helen Archer had created a monster.
“It gives me so much satisfaction, knowing that I’m gifting the world a piece of me,” he said, blowing smoke in our unimpressed faces.
“Are you still fucking Helen?” I asked crudely.
He threw me a pitying look. “Oh, honey. We don’t fuck like the lowest common denominator. When we make passionate love, our glistening bodies become one. It’s like Mars and Venus joining in a burst of sweet harmony to bring forth that delicate balance between creation and ecstasy, the alignment of our transcendent love swallowing the formidable presence of gravity itself.”
I hadn’t the faintest clue what the hell he was talking about. It was like he’d just released one long, massive brain fart.
Stacy scooted closer. “Speaking of creation,” she muttered, clearing her throat, “I, uh, I’m pregnant.”
I choked on my latte. “Are you serious? Does Wally know?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet.” She paused, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I don’t even know if I want to keep it.”
“What? Oh, but why? You love kids, and I’ve always wanted to be an aunt.” I turned to Lorenzo. “Did you know about it?”
He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Of course. I know everything.”
“And yet you’re smoking around her?” I said furiously, yanking the cancer stick from his fingers and tossing it into his half-empty mug. He took a moment to stare at the floating stub before giving me the evil eye.
“You owe me a new latte.”
“I suppose I do,” I said, handing over a twenty. “While you’re there, get us some cheesecake and orange juice as well.”
When Lorenzo left, Stacy grew emotional. “Roe, I’m going to more auditions and I’m super busy lately. Just last week, I was offered a new role in a comedy.” She wiped her eyes with the back of he
r hand. “I get to play the older ditzy blonde that the high school boys fantasize over. It’s all good, innocent fun and I don’t have to bare my breasts or anything.”
I knew how important this was to her. All of the movies she’d done so far had required some form of nudity, but it sounded like this would be her first fully-clothed role.
“At least talk to Wally first. See what he has to say, all right?”
Stacy’s face blanched. “What if he freaks out?”
“Then Hunter and I will kick his meaty arse.” I threatened.
Later in the evening, Wally gave his friend a call. Hunter told him to hold on and put him on speaker.
“Mate, guess what?” Wally crowed with excitement. “I’m gonna be a dad!”
“Congratulations, mate. When’s your lady due?” Hunter asked.
“I dunno! But it’s all pretty exciting, eh? I’m gonna have a son!”
“How do you know it’s a boy?” I asked, curious. From my understanding, it was still too early to tell.
Wally sounded peeved by my question. “Of course it’s a boy. Henderson men always produce sons. It’s tradition.”
Hunter and I exchanged glances, trying not to laugh.
“He’s already placing unreasonable expectations on the poor fetus.” I commented, rolling my eyes.
“What’s that, geek?” Wally hollered into the phone. “Didn’t quite catch that.”
“Never mind. You two are going to be great parents, I just know it.”
“Too right. Listen, I gotta go. The missus is asking for a back rub. We’ll all meet up soon for a celebratory drink, yeah?”
When the call ended, Hunter raised a questioning brow. “The missus? Is that what he’s calling Stacy now?”
“Why not? I think it’s cute. Besides, they’re already like a married couple in some ways.”
Hunter wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “You know, we should go somewhere, just the two of us. What do you think about spending an entire weekend in a cozy, isolated cabin in the woods? I know you like that sort of thing. Maybe I’ll even pretend to be a deformed cannibal and chase you around a bit, get your adrenaline pumping.”
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