He stared at her, probably trying to ensure she was telling the truth. Insulting. “I keep my promises.”
“I might hold you to that.”
She jerked away, back into Carl’s arms. He held her tight, her bottom pressed against the proof that alcohol in quantity didn’t slow him down much. When she tried to break away, he held her more firmly. “Maybe we should take this upstairs,” he said.
Donovan’s eyes sparked anger, or fury, or—something she didn’t want to interpret. “Before you get busy, I want to talk to you.”
“Tough,” she managed, hoping she’d injected the right amount of scorn into it. He flinched, barely perceptibly. “I’ll take Carl upstairs, then I’ll come back down.” What had caused that flinch? Did he feel sorry? She wouldn’t rest until she knew.
“Come to my room. You know where it is.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can. You’re on the security level.”
He made a sound of exasperation. “I’ll wait here, then.”
They were garnering attention. People were looking, murmuring, their voices getting lower so they could listen in. Donovan’s eyes lost focus for a fraction of a second. If she’d been any farther away, she wouldn’t have seen it. He sighed. “Go. But if you don’t come down, I’ll come after you.”
She faced him defiantly. “If you get the chance.”
Carl took a hand. “Hey, baby, you might not be down for a while.” He turned her in his arms and grinned at Donovan. “Get your own woman.” He glanced around. “Doesn’t look as if you’ll have to wait long.”
Then he covered her mouth with his. A soft, wet ring. Too wet, too firm, he sucked her lips into his mouth and clamped his arms around her.
She slammed her hands on his shoulders and pushed. Nothing. He had some strength, more than she’d imagined. The shirt crumpled under her hands but pressure had no effect, so she lifted her hands and brought them down again, slapping against him. Nothing.
He licked her mouth when she refused to open for him, and dragged her closer.
He heaved, then heaved again. Realizing what was happening, knowing she couldn’t get away in time, she let her knees give way and dropped, bowing her head. Better than getting it in the face.
Hot streams of a thick liquid substance poured over her head and shoulders as the blue drink finally got the better of Carl. He bent, his grip on her relaxing, and finally she could move away.
“Ah fuck. Stay there, Allie.” Donovan sounded calm, almost as if he expected it. He might have seen the change in Carl before Allie had a chance.
She didn’t want to lift her head, but the stink of vomit surrounded her until she had to swallow her own bile.
Something dropped over her head and someone wiped and dabbed. “We are so going upstairs,” Donovan said in a voice that invited no argument. “Sorry, man.” That to a member of the bar staff who’d arrived on the scene. “Can you handle it from here?” She heard a crackle as a note changed hands.
“Come on.” Slowly, she got to her feet. Despite the mess, he put his arm around her waist and she realized that the cloth he’d used was his T-shirt. She felt disgusting, hated Carl at that moment. Carl Morano couldn’t handle his alcohol. A lesson hard learned.
Donovan led her away through groups of aliens and starship crew, all of them giving her a wide berth. Understandably. But Donovan stayed close, curving his body protectively over her.
They stood clear of the walls in the escalator, but when she opened her mouth to apologize, he touched her lips. “Don’t say anything. We’re going straight to the shower, and when we’re clean, we’ll talk. Only then. I promise I won’t hurt you, won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I swear it.”
The emphasis on the last three words made her believe it. Even when he’d used her earlier he hadn’t hurt her. He could have forced her head down on his cock, could have rammed inside her without testing her for readiness, but he’d done neither. Something else had caused the behavior. Not just his anger with her.
She went, and she let him take her into his suite and straight through to the shower. She dropped his ruined T-shirt on the floor and, all shyness gone in favor of getting clean, stripped out of her filthy clothes.
Turning, she found he’d done exactly the same thing. It felt so natural that it disturbed her. She’d never been relaxed about her nudity, so this felt new and different and oddly special.
However she knew one thing—of all the times to try to analyze a situation, this was most definitely not it. So she stepped under the spray with a sigh of relief, feeling him come up behind her with nothing more than worrying whether the spray would cover them both.
Of course it would. He had a suite, and even in a four-star hotel, extra degrees of comfort existed. Her room had a rainwater head that she’d decided to save up for once she got home. This thing had two of them, plus a handheld spray. Water poured down on them both in abundance.
For a full five minutes they stood, barely touching, letting the clean water do its work before she saw his hand come around her to grab a tube of body shampoo. Then bubbles cascaded over her face and down the rest of her skin.
Disdaining cloths and sponges, he washed her with his hands, at first keeping to her shoulders, her back, her stomach and her legs from her lower thighs downwards. Then he hesitated before slipping his hands loosely around her waist but not bringing her any closer to him. His wet hair brushed her neck when he leaned forward.
“Allie, I’m sorry.”
The heartfelt, simple apology moved her as few other things would have. She turned in his arms so she could see his face. Water dripped from his hair and lashes, poured down his cheeks like tears. His eyes showed nothing but contrition.
“What are you apologizing for?”
He really had the most expressive eyes. They widened now as his surprise showed. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“You didn’t hurt me. You made sure you didn’t.” He had, and while she hadn’t registered it at the time, she knew it for certain now. Then she did one of the hardest things she’d ever done in her life. She preferred to keep her thoughts private, her feelings to herself, but she owed him honesty. No, she wanted to give him honesty, wanted to know more about herself and perhaps about him too. “I liked it.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she gently laid her fingers across it, suppressing a slight shudder when she felt the heat of their attraction once more. “No, listen. I’m sorry too. I should have said something about my job, but you devastated me. I didn’t know that kind of fantasy would turn me on in real life but, Donovan, it did. I should have known.”
She swallowed, preparing to reveal her innermost secrets for the very first time. “I imagined those kinds of scenarios when I—when I—” For all her newfound resolve, she couldn’t say “masturbate” out loud. Her mother had taught her that good girls didn’t do that kind of thing, much less voice it aloud. She’d gotten over one part of that stricture and up to now, she’d considered it the most important part. Now she wasn’t so sure.
His hands lay still on her body and they touched nowhere intimate. A gentle smile creased his lips. “When you bring yourself off? Jesus, even the thought of you doing that—” He glanced down. His cock stood at rampant attention. He lifted his gaze back to her eyes and his smile turned rueful. “Sorry. I can’t help it around you.”
“That’s usually a compliment.” Unable to resist, she went on her toes and kissed him.
With a groan, he pulled her close. Their bodies met from their shoulders to their thighs, his cock pressing against her stomach. Their mouths melded in the kind of kiss she’d only dreamed of before they met, perfectly attuned. He finished the kiss and stared down at her, his eyes gentler in expression. He kissed her again softly and she responded, giving tenderness back. They had both made mistakes. She didn’t know where to go from here. “We need to talk,” she murmured, her eyes drooping when he delivered another
kiss.
“Later.” He reached over her head and switched off the shower. The sudden silence punctuated by the soft drip of water struck her to her soul. This seemed like an incredibly important moment but she had no idea why. Something passed between them as they stood completely still, gazing at each other.
With the flicker of a smile, he reached out and snagged a towel to wrap around her. It felt warm, cozy and soft. All the things she wasn’t feeling inside right now.
He grabbed another and dried himself roughly, and still he didn’t take his attention away from her. Then he patted her dry and stepped out of the cubicle, careful to avoid the mess on the floor. He lifted her out and she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, then he led her into the bedroom. “I want to take you to bed,” he said, “but that’s not why I brought you here. I want to talk to you.”
“I want to talk to you too,” she said, “but not now.”
His face broke into a smile, relief flooding his features, and he took her hand to lead her to the bed. Sitting down, he urged her closer, his hands around her waist, and she stepped between his spread legs. Seeing him, touching him was all that mattered right now. Carefully, he unwound the towel from her and lifted it to blot the water from her hair. She watched him concentrate on his task and let him minister to her, wondering what would happen now, happy to let events flow.
When he’d finished, he pushed her hair off her face and guided her down to sit on his lap, over one knee with her legs between his, and he gazed up at her, smiling before pressing his hand against her upper back to urge her down for his kiss. He pressed his lips to her gradually, increasing the pressure with firm insistence, without hurrying. She opened to him, a natural development of their embrace, and he drew her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest.
He lifted her, laid her on the bed, and came down to join her, leaning over her for another kiss.
After a series of gentle but thorough kisses, warmth circulated through her, a pulsing, steady increase that seemed as natural as breathing. Only then did he move on to her throat, giving her a necklace of kisses, and then a pendant, dropping down between her breasts. She tried to sit up but he gently pushed her back.
They needed no words. This was his apology and it meant so much more than words ever could. He was treating her with gentleness and even gratitude. He kissed her breasts, circled them with his tongue, patiently caressing until the nipples stood in hard peaks. The most he would allow was for her to rest her hands on his shoulders and feel his muscles flex under her palms. Strong, powerful muscles, at present treating her with a tenderness she wasn’t sure she deserved. But she’d take it.
He gave her a belt of kisses, pausing at her navel to lick and tease. She shivered, her sensitivity increasing with every touch. He alternated soft, sweet caresses with kisses, preparing the way with strokes and contacts that sent increasingly powerful shivers through her whole body. He made a sound against her stomach, “Mmm,” that added to the need pushing its way through her.
She opened her legs and tried to lift her hips to meet his questing tongue, but he urged her back down. She wanted him, now, no more waiting. Liquid pooled between her legs, heating her, but he didn’t touch her there. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice hardly above a breath.
All she could hear now was his voice, the whisper of his kisses and the gentle whirr of the air-conditioning kicking in from time to time. It seemed part of the experience. She could hear nothing from outside the suite. They were alone.
Finally he reached her thighs, but he took a long time touching and kissing until she was ready to explode, even before he’d touched her needy pussy. When he finally did, she could think of nothing else, far beyond any rational thought. He touched her clit with the tip of one finger and she expelled her breath in a long sigh. He made that noise again, the one that sounded as if he were about to taste a special treat and sent her high with anticipation.
“Do I need to do anything else?” he mused, teasing her and wiggling his finger. She jerked and sparks shot through her, but he held her steady with one hand on her thigh and bent his head.
Just the touch of his tongue sent her on alert. Every nerve, every sinew slave to his touch, but this time he treated her as if she were precious. Sex should be like this always, she thought. Unpredictable, sometimes one thing, sometimes another. She adored the way he touched her, even more when he sucked her clit into his mouth and pushed his finger inside her hot, wet body.
She’d never come so fast before from oral sex, but he’d prepared her long and slow, and she was more than ready when he finally kissed her clit. Then he sucked and rocketed her into a different world, one she shared only with him. A few luscious draws and she’d finished. He stayed there, urging her on, and thrust a second finger into her. He held her steady while she convulsed in waves that made her arch and cry out.
He didn’t withdraw until she’d finished, and by then she was gasping with the power of her sudden, powerful orgasm.
Smiling, he came up the bed to her and reached across to the bedside table for protection. He tore it open and then rolled on the condom one-handed. All without taking his gaze from her face. When she hooked a hand behind his neck he bent to her and she tasted herself on his tongue in her kiss. The affirmation of his attention seemed almost unbearably sexy.
He took his time, tasting her, sweeping his tongue along hers, then along the roof of her mouth. She tasted him in return, in an exchange of intimacy she rarely allowed. Because she hadn’t wanted to before, hadn’t enjoyed her taste on somebody else.
He brought his cock to her pussy and slid it down along the supersensitive crease, right to her opening. She felt huge, wide for him, but he still had to push past the outer ring. And then he was in, thrusting firmly until he lay deep inside her.
Only then did he finish the kiss and draw away, resting his upper weight on his elbows and gazing down on her face. “You are wonderful,” he murmured, that sexy British accent sinking deep into her. Smiling back, she opened her mouth to speak, but he dropped another, gentler kiss on her mouth. “Don’t speak. Just feel. And if you need to, say my name.”
“Donovan.” It sounded better than good, and this time she meant Donovan, the man. Nobody else was in this room with them, not the rock star, not the author, not the editor. He’d burned away all their differences.
He slid out and thrust back in, keeping his movements slow and sure, almost like a dance, and at the very end of the movement, gave a twist that rotated the head of his cock inside her. He touched something inside—her sweet spot—and when she caught her breath, he flashed a grin. “There it is,” he said and thrust again, this time changing the angle so he stimulated her with every stroke. Long, sweet and sure. He watched her arousal, and she felt no shyness. Not with him. He’d taken that initial awkwardness away too.
He kept stroking her, as if dancing to an invisible tune, each step measured and perfectly in time, until she thought she’d burst, but she still didn’t come. She’d always found coming with a man inside her more difficult, but now, when he was hitting her so precisely, she felt the climax build, steadily and inevitably.
With a sharp cry of “Donovan!” she arched her back and came, her pussy clenching his cock in a convulsive action she could no more control than she could the rising of the sun.
He pulsed, then throbbed, and she watched as he came apart in her arms, giving himself to her as thoroughly as she’d just given herself to him.
Chapter Four
Lying over her, he chuckled, his breath uneven. He didn’t explain why but pulled away and, after tucking her under the covers, went to the bathroom. He was gone barely ten seconds. She knew, because she counted. Just time to rid himself of the condom, flush and rinse his hands. Ten seconds too long.
Coming back to her, he dragged back the covers and joined her under them. Immediately, she curled into his arms. Nothing had ever felt so right before, and she wondered what was happening here.
“Now we talk,” he said, but he sounded relaxed—happy, even.
“Where do we start?”
“Honesty seems a good place.” He cinched her closer, then loosened his hold.
She rested her head on his shoulder and gazed up into his face. “What, no holds barred?”
He smiled. “When Murder City Ravens started we promised each other that whatever else we did, we’d stay honest. So far it’s worked for us. Not many heart-to-hearts, we’re not really into that, but we have enough rows in the studio.”
“Is that how you produce such amazing music?”
He laughed, sharp and hard. “Partly. The ability to say something is shit and be listened to is a huge asset. We listen to each other and sometimes to our manager. No one else. I want that between us.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry you heard that conversation today. I swear I didn’t know anything about it and I think Nancy is just fishing. She’s my boss, so I can’t tell her to fuck off, but believe me, I’d never—”
He touched his finger to her lips, hushing her. “I believe you. I thought it over again. So you knew who I was, so what?” He smiled, the creases around his mouth deepening.
“I did, I do. I love your music, but you didn’t want anybody to recognize you. Sure, I went with you at first because of who you are, but somewhere during the evening that changed.” She couldn’t say any more. He either believed her or he didn’t.
He smiled. “Glad to hear it.” He kissed her and she returned it, happy they had this chance to sort things out. When they separated, he’d lost the relaxed expression, his face grave. “Then I lost it and wrecked everything. I should’ve waited and listened to you. I guess I’m sensitive, not used to this kind of fame. Notoriety. Whatever. It doesn’t work well for me so I was on edge from the start.” He paused. “I’m sorry, so sorry for what I did this morning. But I couldn’t stop.”
Honesty, she reminded herself. “I didn’t want you to.”
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