Did Someone Order Room Service?: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance Novella (Do Not Disturb, Book 2)

by Phillips, Charlotte

  CHAPTER SIX

  He was looking down at her, torso on the bed, head still on the pillow, but hips over the side and feet touching the floor, eyebrows raised, an amused expression on his face, and she knew from the heat of embarrassment in her cheeks that she now had a bright red face to add to the birds nest hair and slutty make up. Just bloody perfect. She couldn’t even pull off a swift exit without stuffing it up. Then again, maybe she took after her mother, for whom swift exits weren’t an option when it came to men. Outstaying your welcome was more her thing.

  ‘I need a shower,’ she said stiffly. ‘And then I need to act like I’ve done nothing this evening except work.’

  She sat up quickly and crossed the room to the ensuite bathroom, the crumpled sheet clamped against her body to hide her modesty, not caring that he’d explored every inch of her in the last few hours. The sheet unwound itself from him and the bed as she tugged it after her and when she glanced back he was lying back on the pillows watching her, that little half-smile on his lips that made her stomach melt like toffee, arms behind his head, his tanned and toned body completely naked in all its strong gorgeousness. Her heart leapt into full gallop and heat bloomed in her cheeks as she rounded the corner into the bathroom at full speed.

  She could no longer write this off as a mad moment. There was no heated phone call with her mother to blame this time for her impulsiveness. In fact, could something even be impulsive if you did it more than once?

  She leaned her boiling cheek against the cool tile wall. She was NOT about to fall for him. She absolutely wasn’t. What this was – if it was actually anything at all – was an inconsequential fling. If what Lucy had said was anything to go by, she’d just joined the ranks of normality, nothing more. And could it really do that much harm? Couldn’t she even see it as a way of gaining some much-needed insight into the world her mother populated? She’d never understood her mother’s behaviour, had never managed an easy relationship with her. Maybe this could be a way of slaying some demons.

  Her mind was halfway to being convinced, her body was already there. It would be so easy to just talk herself into carrying on with this because the beauty of it was that she already knew how it would end. That fact in itself made the risk so much more palatable. She could be certain that she was in control of this situation because she knew exactly what she was getting into here, both in terms of intimacy and time frame. It would be done with by the end of the week. She knew how he operated – she’d read it a hundred times in different gossip magazines or newspapers. Read about one of his flings and you read about them all – once you made it into his bed, it wouldn’t be long before you made it back out of it. If you were savvy and had no personal scruples, you might get a one off cash bonus for your trouble if you sold your soul to one of the tabloids. You wouldn’t be the first. Women meant nothing to him. He was the epitome of bachelor playboy.

  And if she told herself that over and over, she might erase the lingering doubt that churned in her stomach that, actually, she was in serious danger of losing her heart here.

  ****

  She left the room and his mood plummeted. And then dropped a notch further again in dismay that he was actually bothered. When had there last been someone in his bed – or his life – who’d made that kind of impact? For Chrissake the hardest part usually was getting them to leave, sometimes even strong hints weren’t enough and he had to resort to bringing in security. None of that with her.

  Sex with her was unbelievable, an exploration, the way she slowly yielded to him, the way she delighted in new sensation, her eagerness to throw herself one hundred per cent into every moment. But there was something alluring about her that didn’t just show up in the sack. Top of the list was her indifference to his fame and his success that at times seemed to border on contempt, coupled with the fact that she was attracted to him in spite of it. His celebrity had no pull for her, if anything it was a turn-off. If she slept with him, she did it because she couldn’t help herself, because she liked him, not the trappings associated with him. That kind of validation was so fresh and different, it seduced him. She was addictive.

  And now she was apparently leaving. Again.

  ****

  She glanced around the bathroom. How many times had she been in here to check everything was perfect? Always thinking wistfully that she would never get the chance to use anything this nice herself. There was a huge open plan rainforest shower, underfloor heating and fluffy towels. The hot tub nestled in the opposite corner. She deliberately avoided looking in the huge mirror over the his-n-hers sinks, knowing her hair would belie exactly what she’d been doing for half the night. Instead she turned the shower on and stepped under it, letting the cascade of water soak her hair and run over her skin. She pawed through the array of complimentary toiletries on the shower shelf, of which she intended to use the entire collection. Deciding on orange and bergamot shampoo, she tipped a generous puddle of it into her palm and began to lather her hair, rinsing off the bubbles, closing her eyes against the warm water.

  And then from nowhere he slid into the shower beside her, and any tentative resolve she was kidding herself was still in place melted like the soap on her skin.

  Matt slid his hands around her, over smooth skin slick with bubbles and warm water, the fresh citrus scent of the shampoo filling the steamy air. The glide of her hands up and over his chest had a sensuousness to it that staggered him. Hot desire flooded his veins as she smoothed her hands slowly over his skin. He found her mouth with his and moulded her wet body tightly against his as the kiss deepened. She tasted faintly of toothpaste and she felt like heaven.

  He found her nipples with his fingers, cupping her breasts softly in his palms and rolling the hard tips between his thumb and forefinger, applying pressure softly, then with increasing firmness. He felt the response in her body, in the way she gasped and clutched at his soaking shoulders. That he could thrill her like that caused a surge of desire so hot and intense that he wanted her immediately, and he slipped his hands to her waist with no thought beyond possessing her completely.

  And then she was covering his hands with hers and pushing him gently until his back hit the cold tile of the wall. Taking control away, making his senses reel. The shower spray missed his face now, poured instead in a flowing torrent over his lower body, and the scented steam misted the air as she sank to her knees, her fingertips trailing down his torso, the very light touch of them making muscles and nerves jump and flutter in his groin. Her touch was slow, deliberately so, her fingers sliding firmly around his hard length, her other hand moving lower to cup his balls. And then her mouth slipped sweetly over the head of his rigid shaft and he heard a deep moan of pleasure escape his own throat.

  She touched him on a deep visceral level that he hadn’t known existed. The water sluiced over his lower body, soaking her hair and hands. Heedless of it, he was able only to think of that delectable contact, all other thoughts crushed from his brain by the sweet delicious friction. She sucked gently, her tongue caressing him lightly, driving him maddeningly fast to that edge of pleasure, yet as if she had the ability to read his mind she adjusted her movements to keep him hovering at that pinnacle until a surge of animalistic base desire rushed his mind. Before he could lose the final threads of self-control he pulled her roughly to her feet, knowing nothing except that he had to have her right now, no more diversions.

  He carried her from the shower room, water trailing in puddles across the tiles and then soaking into the deep carpet behind them, the shower thundering on in the empty bathroom. In a couple of swift movements he had her on the bed, water soaking slowly into the sheet beneath her from dripping skin and hair. Groping for her mouth with his, he kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue, the better to taste and caress her. Her nipples were hard points against his chest, her legs like silk wrapped around him as he pressed between her legs, pushing straight inside her, hard and urgent, wanting to possess her completely, unable to wait. Her gaspi
ng moan of pleasure spiked his arousal even further and then he screwed her slow and deep, both his hands tangled in her hair, holding back his own satisfaction until he could push her to that plane of delight. As he felt her tense beneath him, he let go of his own restraint to spiral over into that delicious pleasure as she cried her ecstasy into his mouth.

  ****

  Once was a blip.

  Twice was a slip.

  Three times was to gain some insight or understanding of her parents, specifically her mother.

  Four times was just for the hell of it – she’d done it now, the damage was done, once more wouldn’t make things any worse. Plus she needed his good reference when he finally checked out, it was her fastpass to promotion, no point in pissing him off by stopping now when she’d already slept with him anyway.

  How many times would she need to have sex with him before all other possible justifications were used up and she had to admit this was really about wanting him and nothing else?

  The week had been punctuated by days of throwing herself into her work while Matt focused on his training sessions and physio meetings and whatever else he got up to. Afternoons and early evenings together, always in his suite, sometimes sharing dinner, sometimes talking, always ending up in bed before she left him for the night and made her way back to her grotty shared accommodation.

  And now just a couple of days left before he checked out and she was lying in bed with him in the middle of the afternoon, knowing she had no ulterior motive left for being there. Somewhere in the course of the week it had simply become about being with him. Each day a step closer to all of this ending, something she’d always known was inevitable.

  For the first time ever she’d had a glimpse of what the intoxicating pull was for her mother in the unreality of this current situation. Why wouldn’t she want to live on the fringes of some fantasy when reality was so mind-numbingly dull? There was something addictive about that, wasn’t there?

  Yet it shouldn’t count for much in the face of your family or your kids. And Layla had always had that perspective that her mother lacked. Give it a few days and it would be over, he would be gone, back to the States and the tennis circuit and his fabulous celebrity life. And that was where Layla would prove herself as better. There would be no following Matt Stanton around the world to gurn at him from the stands at this tournament or that match, no hanging on the meagre crumbs of interaction he might throw her way when his exciting life got back to normal.

  Making that point clear to him might be the best way of cementing it in her mind, of maybe putting a stop to the growing churn of sadness in her stomach that she was trying to ignore.

  ‘Only a couple of days and you’ll be heading on back to the States,’ she began, sitting up and hugging her knees with her arms.

  ‘Yup.’ He was watching her, eyes slightly narrowed. Guarded. What was he expecting, her best fangirl don’t-say-it’s-over speech? He must be expecting that at some point, right? She took a deep breath.

  ‘You don’t need to worry,’ she said. ‘I’m not about to cast myself at your feet when you check out and beg you to keep seeing me.’

  Matt lay back against the pillows, arms above his head and smiled at the determined tilt to her chin, the steady holding of his gaze with her own. He hadn’t let himself contemplate the end of the week. Why would he? He’d had many, many flings before, all of them live-in-the-moment. When it was over he simply walked away without looking back, why would he see this situation as any different?

  ‘You’re not?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. I’m sure you’ve had your share of women doing that but it isn’t going to happen this time. We’ve always known this wasn’t going to last beyond the week so I’m hardly going to be expecting you to invite me to the players’ box at your next match or dedicate your next big win to me.’

  He sat up straighter. She was really pressing the point here and her lack of interest really should be an advantage, right? The last thing he needed was a messy ending to all this when he checked out. So why did his stomach suddenly feel like she’d kicked him in it?

  ‘What makes you so sure I won’t do exactly that?’ he said.

  She gave him an incredulous grin.

  ‘Matt, your record speaks for itself. You date a different girl every week. Nobody lasts. You and I have ended up like this because for one week only, I’ve been your only option. It was me or pay-per-view, right? We both know this is just a quick fling. It doesn’t mean anything. Outside this suite there’s a whole different world. Our paths would never have crossed and if they had neither of us would have looked twice at the other.’

  Her indifference felt like a knockback, despite the fact he hadn’t been serious about the tickets and the Grand Slam dedication. She leaned over and kissed him briefly on the mouth, just that one contact firing him right back up again, before sitting back up again. The natural reaction would be to tug her back down into bed with him and see where the rest of the afternoon might take them.

  Instead he took a long look at her, the smile in her blue eyes, her messy blonde hair, that delectable top lip that he just wanted to kiss and kiss.

  His mood had taken an inexplicable nosedive and on impulse he threw the covers back, making a snap decision that would be dismissed as crazy if he let his mind think it over for longer than a second. Why risk it? Why bother when he had sex on tap in this suite with no risk of trouble from his management?

  Because suddenly her opinion seemed to count more than any of that. He wanted to be more to her than some throwaway fling for the week.

  He stood up and turned on the main light. She looked up at him from the bed, the sheet pooled around her waist, long legs drawn up and a questioning expression on her face.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He held his hand out to her.

  ‘Taking you out. Come on.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘You don’t need to do that just to prove a point.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m going stir crazy in here. Get dressed. Do you have a coat?’

  He tugged her by the hand until she swung out of the bed and stood up.

  ‘Yes…but where are we going? What if you get recognised? I thought you were meant to be keeping a low profile.’

  He held up a hand.

  ‘The thing about being recognised is not to hang out where you might be expected to.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Matt Stanton’s attempt at incognito apparently amounted to a dark blue hooded jacket. Then again, he didn’t really do incognito that often from what she’d seen in the press, so it made sense that he didn’t really have a clue when it came to disguise. He was obviously planning to keep his head down and hope for the best.

  She trailed after him as he slammed the door behind them and strode ahead down the corridor, the unreality of being out of the suite with him adding to the madness, shrugging her jacket and scarf on over her uniform as she walked. She came to a standstill as he reached the foot of the staircase and turned towards the lobby and the glass revolving front door, complete with nosey concierge to one side of it.

  ‘I can’t be seen leaving the hotel on some jaunt with you,’ she called after him in a stage-whisper. ‘I’ll get the sack.’

  He glanced back at her.

  ‘Why does it have to be a jaunt – as you call it? Why can’t it be work related? You’re meant to be working for me after all. Leave it with me.’

  Before she could stop him he’d marched up to the reception desk and informed the duty manager that she would be providing admin support off the premises at an afternoon meeting, and then before she knew it they were outside on the cold pavement.

  The weather was winter crisp and the air was icy clear in her throat as she breathed in, puffing out in a soft cloud as she exhaled. There might be an hour or so of proper light left before the last faint shards of winter sunshine disappeared and dusk took a hold. She was conscious of his hand holding her
cold fingers tightly as they walked along the pavement. His zip up jacket couldn’t conceal his broad muscular frame although its hood partially hid his face. But surely all it would take was a second glance from a passer-by to blow his cover. He seemed completely unfazed by the prospect and her heart gave a tentative skip. Was this some sign that he wanted more from her than a week of fun? Surely he wouldn’t be this laid back about being seen with her if she really was as dispensable as that, especially with the press intrusion he’d had recently. The whole world was waiting for him to slip up again.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  Her stomach was a knot of tension. She knew perfectly well the kind of place he liked to frequent. It would be some buzzing bar or other, some celebrity haunt where tourists went to spot famous faces.

  ‘Not far. Just far enough to escape and get some fresh air. And some space.’ He dodged people and traffic like a pro and eventually tugged her into Hyde Park.

  He tucked Layla’s hand into his own as they walked, stopping off at a food stand to buy them a steaming coffee each. The air had a fresh clarity to it and the open space was a welcome change. As he looked around them at the frosty grass and the trees, bare of leaves now, golden sunlight slanting through their branches, he realised for the first time that he’d spent most of the last week indoors. Even when he was training much of it had been gym based. No wonder he’d felt hemmed in – this normality was the kind of thing he really missed out on, the freedom to do what you choose and go where you pleased had a value all of its own.

  Who knew that this kind of simplicity could be so intoxicating? Hot coffee, open space and her company. As they reached a circular fountain, she let go of his hand and climbed onto the stone lip of it, arms outstretched, coffee cup in one hand.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting the park,’ she called down to him and the smile on her face made his heart flip softly over.

  His eyes were drawn to her as she put one foot in front of the other in her sensible court shoes, clearly intent on completing a circuit, and he bit back a smile as he followed her lead, hopping up and beginning to walk the fountain himself in the opposite direction. The water below looked deep green and very cold.