“This is one fancy shower, Hamlet.” Her gaze took in the multiple showerheads at different heights. There was even a handheld near where she was sitting. “And big too. We could fit three or four more people in here.”
Sticking his head under one of the sprays from the ceiling, his throaty laugh echoed in the space. “Who would we invite? I think this is a party just for two. Now let’s get you all scrubbed up.”
“I don’t need any he–”
“Nonsense.” He waved away her objections and knelt down, squeezing a bit of body wash into his palm. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the more you move the more it hurts, yes?”
Shit, she couldn’t argue with her own logic.
“Yes, but I can still bathe myself.”
Picking up her uninjured left foot, he braced it against his chest. “I’m sure you can but I’m here to help you. Now stay still like a good girl.”
Easier said than done. His large hands were sliding up and down her leg, each stroke coming closer and closer to her core. His fingers brushed the sensitive flesh of her mound before gliding back down to her toes, scrupulously washing between each one. By the time he finished with her left leg, she was almost a puddle on the tiled shower flower, ready to slide down the drain and into the mysterious London pipe system. Would she end up in the Thames?
Max picked up the handheld showerhead and rinsed her limb, giving his wrist a twist when he arrived at the top of her thighs so the spray ran over her already swollen clit. Carrie gasped at the sensation and would have jerked sideways but he was thinking far ahead of her befuddled mind. His hand had wrapped around her knee, bracing it against his hips so she couldn’t jar it or herself.
“Jumpy, aren’t you?” he said with an evil grin. “One might think you’re…aroused.”
“Asshole,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. “You might want to look in a mirror.”
Glancing down, he seemed unperturbed by the turgid state of his impressive manhood.
“And?”
“Well, you’re…” Her toes grazed the base of his cock. “Aroused too. Doesn’t it…hurt?”
“I’m getting used to being hard around you all the time. I’ve pretty much had a hard-on since the day I met you.”
She remembered Thanksgiving all too well.
“Bullshit. You were drunk as a skunk when you came to Paige’s house for Thanksgiving and you certainly didn’t notice me in that way.”
His smile widened, showing off even white teeth. “That’s where you were wrong. I was contemplating a shag when I saw your engagement ring. It put a real damper on my plans.”
Funny how the mention of her ill-fated engagement didn’t bother her in the least anymore. In fact, with each passing day she was more grateful that Mark had cheated on her and they’d ended their relationship. It would have been a disaster.
“Male whore movie star. You’d just met me and you were thinking about having sex with me. Disgusting.”
Tut-tutting, Max shook his head sorrowfully but the grin stayed in place. “Yes, I was contemplating some rather naughty positions while getting quietly drunk. Believe me, if you’d given me even a smidgen of encouragement I would have had you on your boss’s desk.”
That declaration had Carrie laughing. “Paige would have killed you. She loves that desk.” She arched a brow at the man kneeling before her, her earlier shyness forgotten. “What kind of naughty positions?”
He lifted her left leg and pressed a tender kiss to the instep of her foot. Carrie sucked in a breath as heat flowed through her veins at his touch. Max could make her crazy so effortlessly.
“How about this one?” he asked, running his tongue up her calf and sending sparks straight to her clit.
Beautiful but almost feral. That’s how Carrie would have described Max if someone had asked her. Rivulets of water ran down his face and torso as he kissed a path up her leg, stopping to nip at the skin every now and then. His dark hair was plastered to his head and his pupils were blown wide. Each time she gasped or moaned, he’d chuckle darkly and she had to quell the urge to reach out and make horns on top of his head with his hair as if he was Lucifer himself.
“Easy, love.” He picked up her left leg and placed it over his right shoulder. “We’re going to do this slowly and carefully. If at any time you feel pain you’re going to tell me and I will stop immediately. Do you understand?”
Barely. She was floating out in the ether and he’d sent her there with his too-talented mouth.
Slowly so she could object if she needed to, he lifted her injured leg and placed it on his left shoulder, anchoring it in place with his hand on her thigh. His warm breath caressed her slit and somehow her fingers ended up tangled in his hair.
“Relax, my sweet. This will be easier on you if you just let me do all the work.”
She should have thrown herself down on the pavement days ago.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Max trapped Carrie’s leg against his body so she couldn’t hurt herself when she climaxed. And she was definitely going to do the latter if he had anything to say about it. His tongue traced her folds before running in circles around her clit. He’d planned to tease her a little bit but her nails were already digging into his scalp while his name fell from her pretty pink lips. He was becoming addicted to her voice calling out to him when she was on the edge.
She’d been through so much today and all he wanted to do was make her feel incredible.
“That’s it, baby,” he urged hoarsely. “Come for me. Let yourself go. I’ve got you.”
His mouth closed over the sensitive button and he sucked lightly, sending her over in a rush. Her head was thrown back and her eyes closed as she shook with the power of her orgasm until eventually she sagged against the tile wall, a satisfied smile on her beautiful face.
Ever so carefully, he placed her foot on the floor before reaching for the body wash again. As gently as he could he soaped up her right leg, using as light a touch as possible on her ankle and foot. He thought she might flinch or protest but she sat still and quiet, her trust in him absolute as he soaped her from top to bottom.
After rinsing her off, he poured a dollop of shampoo in his hands and lathered up her long hair, reveling in the feeling of the silky damp strands between his fingers. He did a quick rinse and then reached for his rarely used conditioner bottle.
“This hotel has great service.”
Max liked her when she was playful like this, her guard down completely. Like earlier when she’d been sleeping, she looked innocent and guileless. So opposite of the women he was used to in his life.
“Be sure to leave your review on Yelp,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “A small business like this lives and dies on word of mouth.”
Clearing her throat, she was laughing at him. “Mouth being the operative word here. Seriously, I’d like to return the favor.”
Her deft fingers had slid down his abdomen and were reaching for his overeager cock but he managed to capture them while he still had the willpower. He kissed her knuckles and then set her hands at her side.
“Not tonight, love. You’re injured and tired. You need your rest.”
Her brows pinched together. “But you–”
“That was for you and I loved doing it. In fact, I may want to do that every day while you’re here. Maybe twice a day.”
“If you think I’m going to stop you or pretend to protest you’re mistaken, Hamlet. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He also liked this brazen female that he’d only gotten a glimpse of last night. He needed to coax her out to play more often. Just not tonight.
“Let’s finish your shower and then we’ll get you into bed. I think you said you wanted a good book and your pain medication?”
When she yawned widely, Max knew he’d made the right call. She acquiesced and he finished up her hair and then lifted her out of the shower, setting her back on the vanity while he dried her off.
Leg first
and then right back into the boot. He didn’t want her to jostle it by mistake. Within a few minutes he had her tucked up in his bed, wearing one of his t-shirts with a book in hand, the television on a low volume in the background.
It looked…right, having her here. Too right, perhaps? Already he was thinking of reasons for her not to go back to her place.
That was amazingly scary.
* * *
Max couldn’t leave Carrie at home by herself the next day so he loaded her into the car and took her along with him to the theatre.
Carrie. A giant flavored coffee. Her laptop. Crutches. Pain pills. A pillow for her leg. Her humungous handbag with half the house stuffed in it.
That was just what he knew about. She wasn’t much for traveling light, even if it was only to the West End.
“That’s more sugar than coffee,” he said, gently placing her on a chair with a good vantage point to where he’d be working. “It will make you hyper.”
She took a sip and sighed, smiling and closing her eyes as if in bliss. “Yes, it is and no, it won’t. I’m not a toddler, Max. You should try it. It’s heavenly.”
He pulled a face, not as fond of sweet things as she was. “I’ll take a pass on that. I prefer my coffee to taste like coffee. It has a job to do and that’s why I drink it.”
“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
“Then don’t respond at all.” Chuckling, he lifted her right leg and placed it on another chair, propped up with the small pillow he’d brought along. “Now, did you take your pain pills or some ibuprofen?”
“Ibuprofen,” she answered, opening her laptop and setting it on her thighs. “Honestly, I’m good here. Go work and have fun. If I need anything I’ll let you know.”
That was the issue. He couldn’t have her interrupting a scene when they were rehearsing.
“I’ll come back and check on you periodically. Do you need anything before I go? A water? A trip to the bathroom?”
She reached into that nightmare of a bag and pulled out a water bottle. “I’ve got water and took care of nature’s calls before we left home. I do have my crutches, you know. If I can’t wait I can get there by myself.”
They’d argued for ten minutes about those damn crutches. He hadn’t wanted to bring them, didn’t want her on them, but like most discussions with Carrie he came out on the losing end. It was easier to agree.
“Hopefully you won’t need to use them. I’ll only be a few feet away.”
Her fingers were poised over the keys of the laptop. “You’re working. I don’t want to be a bother when you’re busy.”
“You’re not a bother,” he said automatically but he meant it sincerely. He’d loved spoiling her yesterday and he planned to do it again this evening no matter how much she fought him about it.
She tapped his chin playfully. “Max, go to work. I can’t admire your talent if you’re not onstage.”
True.
“If you need any–”
“Max.” Carrie’s tone was firm and she gave his shoulder a light push. “Please go and pretend to be someone else. Why are you delaying? Did you forget to study your lines or something? Do you have a pop quiz today? Do actors even have pop quizzes?”
“You’re pushy.”
“You’re stubborn.”
If he was he’d learned it from her.
* * *
Max must have called out the cavalry. About every five minutes someone stopped by where Carrie was sitting inquiring whether she needed anything. It was sweet and polite and it was driving her insane. She couldn’t get anything done so eventually she gave up and watched Max rehearse instead.
He was magnificent. It wasn’t enough that he was incredibly talented, an actor among actors. No, he also oozed charisma on stage. Her gaze was riveted to his every word and action. His face was expressive but in this arena so was his voice. Effortlessly, it carried all the way to the cheap seats, mesmerizing her with its tone and resonance. He was able to convey so much emotion with a flicker of an eyebrow and a single syllable. What must it be like to have a gift like that? No wonder he was often arrogant and full of himself. He had reason to be. She’d seen him onscreen and it didn’t do him justice. Only in person did she feel the fullness of his performance.
“He’s good, isn’t he?”
The soft voice behind her made Carrie jump but she easily recognized it. “Amy, I didn’t expect to see you today. Don’t tell me…Hamlet up there was worried and asked you to check on me?”
“Good guess.” Amy settled into the chair next to Carrie and leaned down to get a good look at the offending ankle. “How does it feel?”
“When I’m in this boot and I can’t move it’s all fine. Honestly it’s more awkward than anything. I’m not exactly graceful at the best of times and then add in an injury and I’m screwed.”
“Oops, I almost forgot. I brought you this.” Amy dug into her purse and pulled out a small bag of chocolates. “Thought you might need it. Is there anything I can do for you? Help you to the bathroom? Get you another coffee? Call Tyler and have him sweep you off your feet?”
Carrie accepted the chocolates with a grateful hug. “You are a mind reader. This is just what an injured girl needs. As for needing anything, I’m good. Max has people stopping by every few minutes, but I’m still glad you popped in.”
Amy cleared her throat. “No comment on Tyler?”
“None. He and I are just friends and you know it. There will be no sweeping.”
“I have to say I’m glad about that. You and Max make such a cute couple.”
Carrie sometimes had to remind herself that Amy – and others – didn’t know about the contract.
“Thank you but I think as good-looking as Max is he’d make any couple cute.”
Amy’s gaze followed Max, who was rehearsing a sword fight onstage with another actor.
“I’ve never seen Max look this happy though. You bring out the joyful side of him that’s been missing for a long time, especially after that bitch Alana. I hope he doesn’t screw it up and do something stupid.”
I hope so too.
“Is that likely?”
Shrugging, Amy shifted in her seat. “He hasn’t always made the best decisions when it comes to relationships. It’s made him terribly gun-shy, if you know what I mean. He can be a cynical bastard too.”
Carrie had seen all of that up close and personal. “We’re not rushing into things. We’re just…enjoying the here and now.”
Amy frowned. “He needs to find a good woman and settle down, have six kids and a dog. I’ll be honest, Carrie, all of his friends are hoping you’re the one.”
The one. That wasn’t frightening at all.
“You don’t even know if I want children, and I could be allergic to dogs.”
“Do you?”
Carrie’s attention was pulled back to the stage where Max ripped off his sweaty t-shirt and used it to dry his damp chest after the sword fight. Damn.
“Do I what?” Carrie had forgotten the question.
“Do you want children?” Amy pressed, her gaze following Carrie’s. “I bet making a few babies with Max wouldn’t be much of a chore.”
Remembering the last twenty-four hours, Carrie had to admit he’d make a wonderful father. His nurturing was second to none.
“He’d be a good dad,” Carrie said since Amy was still waiting for a reply. “And yes, I want children. I always have. In my family there was only me and my brother. I’d like to have four or five kids.”
Amy’s smile grew wider. “That’s exactly what Max says. Four or five. But he’s frustrated because he can’t find a woman that wants more than two.”
Carrie needed to slow this conversation down. It was getting out of hand.
“We haven’t talked about kids,” she stated firmly. “Or commitment or anything like that. We’re taking it slow.”
“Slow,” Amy echoed, her expression smug. “You do that, but I have a feeling I should start croche
ting a baby blanket. I think yellow since we don’t know whether it will be a boy or girl.”
Way out of hand.
Carrie shook her head, her own stomach doing somersaults in her abdomen at the images her friend had wrought. “No crocheting. No baby blankets. Please, I am begging you, do not go overboard here. I like Max. I really do. But there isn’t going to be any happily ever after here. There will be no fairy tale wedding. It’s just a casual relationship. Max isn’t in love with me. Heck, I piss him off pretty much on a daily basis and that’s the reality. This won’t last forever.”
Her speech had been more for herself than Amy. It was a good reminder when she sometimes had fantasies of more. He’d made “more” easy by taking care of her so thoroughly.
Amy’s features softened and she grabbed Carrie’s hand and squeezed. “You’re in love with him.”
Carrie’s denial came swiftly.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Okay, then you could easily be in love with him.”
One push and all of Carrie’s defenses would go tumbling to the ground. That’s what kept her up at night.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Sighing, Amy took the bag of chocolates and ripped it open, handing two to Carrie. “Pretending it’s not happening isn’t going to make it go away.”
“But it makes today so much easier.”
Popping the chocolate into her mouth, Carrie didn’t say another word. There was nothing left to be said really. She knew the reality of the situation. Carrie was going to have a broken heart when all was said and done but she’d known that for awhile now. She simply couldn’t play it safe for the rest of her life. She didn’t want to either.
She had Max, for now, and that was enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Carrie did manage to get a little work done in between ogling Max and his minions checking on her constantly. She didn’t mind her non-productivity as it gave her a chance to watch him work and that had been a true pleasure. If rehearsals were any indication, the play was going to be fantastic.
Swinging On A Star (The Hollywood Showmance Chronicles Book 2) Page 19