by Koko Brown
His thrusts became harder, stronger, and faster. The desperation within her sharpened and expanded. In mounting anxiety, she clutched at him, looking for solace, some respite. All it did was increase an unfulfilled need that was deeper than any physical pain could ever be.
I’m dying, she thought as the pressure increased to a volatile level, her breath expelling past her lips in short, harsh pants. My Mum is going to come home and find her only child dead. At least, there was one consolation. Her last breath would be in his arms.
“Earth to, Gemma. Hello, Gemma.”
Hand shaking from desire, she touched the back of her neck. Her skin bordered on feverish. And why were her thighs so slick?
“W-what were we fuc…I-I-I mean…what were we talking about?”
He looked at her sideways for a beat, and then finally said, “We were talking about who you thought was responsible for all of this.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She moved to put some much needed distance between them. It didn’t work because he dogged her footsteps. So close, she could feel his body heat along her entire right side.
To Gemma’s utter mortification, his fingers found her waist. “C’mon, Gem,” he coaxed with both words and inappropriate tickling, “who do you think furnished my apartment?”
“Oi! Any number of slags, that’s who.” Blood pressure skyrocketing and afraid she might ask him to scratch another itch, Gemma spun away from him.
Devin rested his hands on his hips. “You think I’ve slept with a ton of women?”
Hot and bothered, and not liking it one bit, Gemma couldn’t resist being catty. “You haven’t exactly kept any of your conquests secret. Every other month you’re in a new relationship.”
The sides of his mouth twitched. “You’ve been in this business long enough to know how the spin cycle works. For the record, I’ve never slept with a groupie.”
His revelation didn’t dispel the hurt she’d experienced every time she picked up a gossip rag. “How can they get to you for all the supermodels?”
“More exaggerations.”
Completely devoured by the green-eyed monster, Gemma allowed it to yank her chain. “So you didn’t shag the beautiful Swede? You know the one willing to give up her career to follow you on the circuit.”
“Barely a marble in her head. I like birds who don’t think the Dewey Decimal system is some kind of sub-woofer.”
Try as she might, a piece of the wall she’d erected around her heart crumbled. “So you weren’t engaged to the American actress?”
“More lies and assumptions.”
“And the four karat nugget she flashed everywhere was a figment of our imaginations?”
“Paid for by her publicist. That summer her movie hit the two hundred million mark.” He stepped closer. “Anyone else?”
Gemma’s cheeks bloomed with heat. If the floor suddenly opened up and swallowed her, she couldn’t be more grateful. “No.”
He suddenly turned and headed to the kitchen. “What’s your poison? Wine, beer, a spritzer.”
Gemma blinked, then blinked again. Why hadn’t he called her on the carpet for being jealous? “I’m on the clock,” she muttered, feeling not a day over seventeen. Cowed, she shuffled over to the dining room table and set her things down. Was this thing made of teak? She wondered fingering the beautiful, hand-carved wood.
Devin came out of the kitchen with two bottles of wine. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Gemma eyed both labels. The wine had come from her favorite winery in Burgundy. Curious, she asked, “What did you order?”
“Salmon rolls with cream cheese and unagi nigiri.”
Again, her favorites.
“Which one do you want first?” He shoved one bottle in her face, and then the other.
“You’re trying to get me drunk.” Gemma crossed her arms under her breasts and she immediately noticed the way his eyes lingered on the gap where her cardigan parted, exposing her cleavage. Like a caress, his gaze was tangible. To the point of being suffocating. What else could explain this sudden shortness of breath?
He granted her mercy by slowly lifting his gaze. “Just between us, I didn’t need to get you drunk.”
He set both bottles on the dining room table, along with a wine glass, then sauntered back into the kitchen, leaving her open mouthed and slack jawed, with nothing to say.
***
Her sexy lip-glossed mouth worked, yet nothing came out. Thinking he was coming on too strong too soon, as was his tendency, Devin retreated to the kitchen. He wanted to throw her off balance, not give her an excuse to pull one of her disappearing acts again. Not when it took him eight long years of lying low to finally lure her back in his life again.
Devin raked his hand through his hair. It took all his willpower not to slam Gemma against the wall and make love to her in the foyer. He always loved it when she wore pink. The pale color contrasted beautifully with her brown skin. The only things missing were the ribbons she used to wear in her thick hair. They would always match whatever outfit she wore and he loved the way she howled in frustration when he pulled them loose. The same reaction he got out of her when he used to take his time tasting every inch of her body.
Gemma hadn’t been his first, but she was the first girl he took his time making love to. He was so hot for her when they were kids it was a wonder he didn’t get her pregnant. Insatiable for her, he fucked had her on her back at every opportunity. And after all these years, his dick was of the same mindset.
Since a cold shower was damned inconvenient at the moment, Devin grabbed a pale lager out of the fridge. He popped the cap and took a long swig, allowing the chilled brew to dampen his ardor. He shouldn’t have suggested they meet here. His mind kept drifting to his bedroom and how perfect she would look sprawled across his bed. Her dark body wrapped in his white sheets. Needing more fortification, Devin downed the entire bottle.
Before he returned to the dining room, he grabbed the charger of sushi along with another bottle of pale ale and two plates.
“We can eat while we talk business.”
When he pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down, her eyes widened like back in the day when he’d pig out at a pick ‘n’ mix and didn’t pay. He’d garnered the same reaction in the hallway when they shook hands. Devin smiled to himself while she rummaged through her purse. She projected a cool exterior, but he was pretty sure the desire pulsing through him wasn’t a one way street.
After making a huge to-do about how junky her bag was, her hand emerged with the cutest pair of burgundy-framed glasses. She perched them on the end of her button nose, and blood rushed to his cock.
Blow. Me. He’d always been a sucker for the librarian look. “I was wondering where those were.”
She glanced away shyly. “I normally wear contacts, but I didn’t feel like struggling with them today.” She opened her leather portfolio, and fiddled with a legal pad. While she was temporarily distracted, he took the liberty of pouring her a glass of wine.
“We should get started,” she said, clicking the feed cap on her pen. Devin pushed her wine glass toward her. “Before we can approach any clubs, we need to clean up your act. So, we’ve come up with a four-point strategy to achieve our goal. Accountability. Reinvention. Traditional marketing. Social Media.”
“Accountability?” He placed a salmon roll on her plate.
She set down her pen and picked up her wine. “You’re going to have a role in your reemergence because no matter how much we may huff and puff, we will not put Humpty Dumpty back together again unless he wants help.”
Liking the analogy, Devin smiled. “If I didn’t want help, I wouldn’t have hired your firm.”
“True, but I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. You need to know not only what we’re going to do for you, but also what we expect from you.”
Devin studied her as she bit into the salmon roll, followed by a sip of wine and then another bite. Her tongue darted out at one po
int to lick away a droplet of wine. It took superhuman willpower to not lean over and draw her bottom lip into his mouth.
“So…what do you need from me?” he asked, shifting in his seat. His balls had become unbearably tight.
“We need you to be open and willing to changing your public persona. Curb the bull in a china store mentality when you go out in public. Maybe opt to stay home until you’ve signed a contract. If you don’t like a question from the media, decline to answer. Don’t rub a journalist’s tart of a sister in his face.”
“Simple enough.”
Her hand froze in midair and her eyes narrowed. Devin tensed as she slowly set down her wine glass. Piss and shite! She’d probably expected a fight. A show of bad ass stubbornness to match the persona he’d perfected over the past year and a half.
“You’re going to make the next two months a living hell for me aren’t you?”
Game back on. “It’ll be an experience we’ll both treasure.” Winking, he tipped his beer bottle and took a long swig.
“Cheeky bastard.”
Devin struggled to keep his ale down. Let her think he was full of shit. Better to leave his prey guessing than have her running for the hills.
“Speaking of reinvention, are there any friends or family who might prove to be an obstacle to our goals?”
Devin pretended to mull over the question. He’d never been a follower. “No one comes to mind.”
“What about Butler?”
The mention of Croydon F.C’s star striker brought a smile to Devin’s face. The younger man lived the stereotypical footballer life like a badge of honor. “He’s impressionable, but he’ll fall in line. If not, I’ll keep our relationship primarily on the pitch.”
Liking his answer, she nodded her head, causing her silky tresses to sway slowly. Devin had always loved her tight curls, but this new sleek look of hers made him want to see it sitting up on end after he’d bedded her good and proper.
“What about girlfriends? Are any of them a bad influence?”
Devin couldn’t help the smirk curling his lips. Like most of the general public, she assumed he was a manwhore. He could have been with the amount of women throwing themselves at him on a daily basis. On the contrary, Devin had always been a one-woman-at-a-time-kind-of guy, preferring the security of a relationship.
“At the moment, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Something flashed in her dark brown eyes, and it caught him completely off guard. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to analyze it, dissect it into parts, because in an instant, the look in her eyes was gone.
Several hours, two empty wine bottles and a sushi dinner for two later, Gemma had discovered three things. One, she wasn’t closer to feeling any more confident about her new client. People said one thing and usually did the complete opposite. Two, she was still attracted to him, practically dazzled by his very presence. Three, there was nothing she could do about said attraction since there was a ‘no fraternization’ rule in her contract.
Feeling screwed without the actual penetration, Gemma watched Devin scribble down his top five clubs including Croydon F.C. which remained his first choice. His lean fingers were strong and tanned like the rest of his body. A rapid-fire series of images flashed through Gemma’s head, reminding her of all the wicked ways he’d used them to make her come.
Flushed with desire, she stood. “I’m going to call it a night.” She tucked the empty wine bottles under each arm, picked up their plates and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll pass your dream teams on to Yvonne and first thing in the morning, I’ll get to work.”
He rose as well. “It’s late, we’ve been drinking. Let me drive you home.” While she placed the plates in the dishwasher, he grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the fridge.
“I’m a big girl, Devin. I can make it home perfectly fine on my own. Plus, I didn’t down all that wine by myself.”
“You can crash here.”
For the second time that night, he looked at her like he used to when his desire for her was insatiable. Heart pounding, Gemma walked past him back into the main living area. If he so much as touched her, she’d probably go up in smoke.
“I’ll pass. I try to make a habit of not sleeping with…I…ah…mean spending the night at my clients’ homes.” Embarrassed by her slip up, Gemma ducked her head as she quickly gathered up her things.
“But you want to, don’t you?”
Pretending she didn’t hear him, Gemma made a beeline for the front door. Thinking she was home free, she reached for the door knob. She turned the latch at the same time his hand wrapped around hers, the other landed on the wall by her shoulder, trapping her.
“You don’t have to go.” The deep inflection in his voice made her awareness of him heighten to a physically painful degree.
Groaning, Gemma laid her forehead against the door jamb. “I need to go. If I spend the night, I’d be making the biggest mistake of my life.”
He pressed into her. His lips brushed her ear and the air left her lungs in a rush. Even through a layer of clothes, his body felt like steel, his washboard abs a hard slab of muscle against her back.
“You think the two of us together would be a mistake?”
“A catastrophic blunder of Mount Sinai proportions. If we…you and I…” she stopped short of saying sex in fear of verbalizing it would make her even more vulnerable. “I’ll lose my job. There’s a no-fraternization clause in my employment contract.”
His lips caressed the shell of her ear, making her ache all over. “I don’t kiss and tell,” the devil tempted.
His simple solution made Gemma chuckle. “Plenty of celebrities don’t kiss and tell, but somehow their relationships get plastered all over the moon and back.”
Filled with regret, she turned around and sagged against the door. Why did he have to smell so bloody good? He made her head spin. “Let me go, Devin…please.”
Silence hung between them. Their eyes locked, his gaze breathtakingly intense.
Abruptly, he stepped back giving her space. While his fingers worked the locks on the front door, she almost wished he would go all primitive and throw her over his shoulder.
“Call me when you get home.”
“What are you, my dad?” she asked, her tone cocky. She stepped over the threshold, but Devin grabbed her wrist.
“The only reason I’m not banging you against the door right now is because I respect you.” He leaned in closer and she wanted him so bad it hurt. “Now afford me the same respect and call me when you make it home.”
“Okay.” Gemma choked out. She was so completely turned on, her panties had become damp. Needing some space between them, she tugged on her arm. He didn’t let her go.
“Okay, what?”
Gemma groaned. She both hated and loved his authoritative tone.
“I’ll call you when I get home.”
“Much better,” he said, releasing her.
On shaky legs, Gemma pivoted on her heel, her purse and his portfolio clutched to her chest.
The walk to the elevator ended up being the longest in her life.
Chapter Three
Gemma used the thirty minute drive home as a cooling off period. Along the way, she’d made a very important decision. Bright and early tomorrow morning she was calling Yvonne and dumping Devin in her lap. They simply could not work together. She’d have to handle the bad boy of Croydon herself. Better to miss out on the fat commission, Devin’s anticipated contract would generate, than lose her job.
Mind made up, Gemma swung her mint green Fiat into an empty parking space two doors down from her flat. She grabbed her keys and purse. She left the portfolio, containing Devin’s information, on the passenger seat. No need to bring it inside because it was going into the morning trash.
As she made the brief hike, a warm, summer breeze tousled her hair and ruffled the leaves on the elm trees in the square across the street. She was just unlocking her front gate, when a guy smoking a cigarette, and weari
ng a gray hoodie skateboarded past her. He suddenly stopped and backpedaled. Despite the hour, alarm bells didn’t go off in Gemma’s head. Camden was a friendly neighborhood popular for its row of boutiques and numerous bars and restaurants. People from all walks of life frequented the greater London neighborhood.
“Excuse me, do you have the time?” With half of his face concealed, he sucked on his cigarette. The tip glowed bright red with each puff. A beat up skateboard dangled from his other hand. Gemma figured he was one of the kids who utilized the Cantelowes Skate Park around the corner.
Nonplussed, she shifted her purse strap to glance down at her watch. “It’s a quarter to ten.”
“Thanks, Miss.” He pivoted on his heel, dropping the skateboard in his hand to the sidewalk.
Thinking nothing more of him, and anxious to take a hot soak in her claw footed tub, Gemma slipped through the gate. She was closing it behind her when a grimy hand landed on top of hers.
Startled, she looked up into the Hoodie’s face. Heart pounding, she tried to tug her hand free.
“How about you hand over that fat ass pocket book,” he said tightening his grip around hers, squeezing her bones together until she winced. Still the pain didn’t stem the flow of molten hot anger running through her veins.
“You ask for the time and now you want my bag, really?”
“No need to get cheeky, slag.” He looked up and down the block. “Just hand over the fuckin’ purse.”
Balking, Gemma glanced down at the kelly green couture bag swinging from her arm. She’d languished on a six-month waiting list before she’d finally acquired it. Made of the finest calf-skin leather, the purse was absolutely gorgeous.
Yeah, she was being too stupid to live, but she’d treated herself to the fifteen hundred pound designer handbag with her first paycheck from Top Flight. It had sentimental value. Plus, she’d paid too much of her hard-earned money to simply give it to this wanker without a fight.
“How about I give you the money in my wallet,” she offered in compensation. She’d withdrawn two hundred pounds from the company account to cover dinner with Devin. Thinking of him, Gemma bit the inside of her cheek. Maybe she should’ve allowed him to drive her home after all.