by Rita Herron
"Oh, God, Harry."
He suddenly stopped, laid his head on her breast, then looked up at her. "Abby, I want you so badly." But instead of taking her, he stood and tore himself away, facing the wall. "But we can't. Not... I can't take you knowing you're still married."
Abby closed her eyes, the pain of his withdrawal almost as overpowering as his lovemaking. She had to trust him with at least part of the truth. Her voice was barely an audible whisper when she spoke: "I... I'm not married, Harry."
He swung around, his shocked gaze searching her face for the truth.
Her chin quivered as she licked her lips. "It's true. I..." How could she tell him the humiliating truth; that she had never been married to Lenny, that she'd been a victim of his and Tony Milano's scheme? She couldn't, not with her gown torn open, her body exposed, her breathing ragged with desire for him. He would think she was the worst kind of fool. "We're divorced."
He took a minute to process that statement. "It's final?"
She closed her eyes, the part truth, part lie lodging like dry toast in her throat. "Yes. It... it just happened when the book hit the stands, but my publicist had put together this tour and I couldn't get out of it."
Confusion clouded his face for a moment, followed by turmoil, as if he couldn't quite decide what to do with that information. "Are you still in love with him, Abby?"
"No." A shudder rippled through her. "Heavens, no."
As if her admission released him from the moral clause he'd clung to, a slow smile spread over his face. His lips parted as he came toward her, a flush of renewed desire and determination in his hungry gaze. He was going to follow through with his promise.
And she was about to experience the best sex of her life.
* * *
For one brief moment, Hunter hesitated. His journalistic voice screamed at him that he had a great story in the palm of his hand.
But his emotions argued that he had a great woman in the other.
He had a choice.
But one look into Abby's eyes and the idea of choosing the article faded like storm clouds overcome by the brilliance of the sun. Steam sizzled between them, heating his body as he folded her in his arms. She melted like hot chocolate, deliciously rich and wicked in taste.
He tried to remember the advice he'd read in her book about slow seduction and titillating touches, but his hands had a mind of their own, and his body refused to acknowledge slow. All he knew was this fierce need to possess her that consumed him.
He stripped off her nightgown, pausing a second to drink in the glory of her naked body. She was all textures and angles, her hips flaring in enticing curves that made his hands ache to hold her. Her breasts were small but perfect, supple and irresistible. The dark, rosy peaks begged for his mouth, her flat stomach beckoned for his touch, and the soft triangle surrounding her femininity whispered for his hands.
Giving him a look as sultry and sinful as an exotic dancer, she slowly feathered her slender fingers down the outline of her body, stroking her inner thighs, then shuddering. Her gaze said, Take me; I'm yours.
Unable to resist a second longer, he ran his hands down her arms, then cupped the weight of her luscious breasts in his hands. "You are so beautiful, Abby."
"I want to touch you, too," Abby whispered.
He smiled and flared his arms out by his side, his body jerking when she licked her lips and stepped forward. Her bare breasts swayed as she reached for the edges of his shirt. Slowly she bared his chest while he stood silent, gazing down at the tangled curls spiraling around the curve of her shoulders.
She dragged the shirt down his arms, her gaze raking over his hair-dusted chest and trailing down his stomach as she dropped the garment to the floor. His muscles bulged and jumped at the heat in her eyes; then she reached for his belt, and a dark, hungry look crossed her face as she leaned forward. She licked his nipple, then lowered one hand to cup his sex, and he thought he would explode from the pleasure.
A low, throaty moan escaped him as he grabbed her hand and brought it to his bare stomach, smiling at the disappointment that flitted into her eyes. "All in good time, sweetheart."
"I want to see you," she whispered raggedly. "I've tried to imagine what you'd look like."
The sound of her heady admission nearly drove him over the edge. Feeling his control slipping with each inch his sex grew, he shucked his jeans and underwear and stood before her, letting her look her fill.
Her vibrant eyes turned darker as she took in his size. "Let me taste you," she whispered.
He shook his head. "Later." With another low growl, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. She groaned as he pushed her onto the bed, then sighed with sweet surrender when he clasped her hands above her head and began to feast on her. She tasted like sin and sex and woman, a heady delicacy that he knew he would never forget.
One he would like to dine on every night.
The thought shook him to the core, but he didn't stop. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, licked his way down her neck, circling the entire globe of her breasts before he completed his journey by teasing her nipples. One at a time, he loved and pulled and twisted them with his teeth until she writhed beneath him, struggling to free her hands.
But he couldn't let her touch him yet. No, not yet.
So he pushed her hands harder into the bed, driving her wild as he nudged her legs apart with his knee. His sex bulged and jutted toward her, straining for the heaven she offered, yet he denied himself and simply stroked the insides of her thighs with his shaft, rising above her to stare into her eyes. To see the dark hunger and passion flaring there for him.
Her wild, abandoned look warned him she teetered on the brink of release, but he didn't want to end the sweet torture. Not yet. He straddled her instead, pinning her with his weight, letting his bulging shaft lie at the tip of her opening, taunting her unmercifully with tiny strokes as he kissed her again. She arched and begged, bucking her hips up toward him and parting her legs wider.
"Please... I want you."
Empowered by her admission, he lowered his head and began the same torture on her breasts again, licking and suckling her until her moans of pleasure echoed off the walls. Her body quaked beneath him as he finally pushed his sex into her. She squeezed his hands and groaned, the insides of her body clutching at him, quivering with the intensity of her orgasm. Finally he released her wrists, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her again as he began to pump wildly inside her.
She clawed at his buttocks, her movements savage as she met him thrust for thrust and cried out in ecstasy. He jerked her legs around his waist and rode her like the primitive beast that lived inside him, filling her, then retreating, then thrusting farther until he couldn't stand the torment. She was his woman, now and always. His release came swift and hard, and he buried his head in her breasts and sank his whole heart into riding the crest with her.
* * *
Still quivering with the aftermath of their lovemaking, Abby cuddled into Hunter's embrace, the scent of his sweat and sex clinging to her skin. "That was incredible."
He curled his arm around her and pulled her into the vee of his thighs, their legs tangling. "It was more than incredible."
Abby rubbed a finger over the nub of his nipple, smiling when he shivered. "You are going to pay for not letting me touch you, though."
A chuckle rumbled from deep with him. "I have a feeling this is one payback I'm going to enjoy."
Abby laughed and nuzzled her face into his chest.
His voice rumbled out, "Abby, are you into threesomes?"
She froze, pushing away slightly to look into his eyes. "No, why do you ask?"
"Just thinking about the fantasies you mentioned."
She narrowed her eyes. "Is that one of your fantasies, Harry? A ménage a trois?"
"It's okay in the movies." He threaded heir hair around his hand, then rolled her over on top of him. "But in real life, I don't like sharing my wo
men."
"Women?"
"Woman," he corrected.
"So is this when you start beating on your chest and bellowing like Tarzan?"
He laughed, then cupped her bottom with his hands. "No, this is when we start real sex, take two."
Abby arched a brow.
"You didn't think that was going to be the end of it, did you?"
Abby traced a finger over a tiny scar at the top of his forehead. "Oh, no. I hope not." Dropping her head forward, she crawled down his body, letting her hair tickle his chest and legs as she licked at his thighs. "I told you I was going to pay you back for torturing me."
Then she finally got to touch him, just the way she wanted. And this time he was the one begging for mercy.
* * *
Victoria glanced at Suarez, who had phoned her after Chelsea had phoned him, then peered down at Chelsea's swollen eye. Her stomach convulsed. "Dear God in heaven, what happened?"
Chelsea wobbled toward her, her hands clinging to her head as if it might fall off and roll across the floor if she let go. "I... was attacked."
"By whom?" Victoria glared at the manager of the Blackhorse Club as she sank into one of the chair's in his office. What had Chelsea being doing in a place like this?
"Some Amazon. She, um..."
"Spit it out, Chelsea."
"She thought I was stealing her act."
"Which was?"
Chelsea's voice was barely a whisper. "Lady Godiva."
Victoria closed her eyes to gain control, then opened them, not sure whether she was more angry or frightened. Stefan moved toward her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Odd how reassuring his touch felt. "And were you?"
"I... I didn't know it was her act." Chlesea's voice broke then, a pitiful cry escaping. "I only wanted to make some extra money to help Abby." She tried to stand, but swayed and flopped back down, the tattered gold outfit billowing around her.
"This is unbelievable," Victoria muttered.
"Do you want to press charges?" Enrique asked, looking nervous.
"No," Chelsea said in a squeak.
"Yes," Victoria said at the same time.
Suarez knelt and handed Chelsea a tissue. "You shouldn't let her get away with this, Chelsea. You were a victim."
Silence stretched between them all.
"I just want to go home and forget tonight ever happened," Chelsea said in a small voice.
Victoria and Stefan exchanged worried looks; then Victoria stood. "We'll let you know, Mr... Enrique."
Stefan offered one hand to Chelsea while Victoria wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.
"Just call me if you want to work again, Chelsea," Enrique said. "You have real potential."
Victoria frowned and held her shoulders high as the three of them walked through the crowded area to her car. "You are not stripping again," she said as she helped Chelsea into the car.
"I know. Thanks for coming, Victoria." She gave her a pleading look. "I'm sorry I got knocked out." A nervous laugh escaped her. "But at least I didn't get knocked up."
Victoria shook her head. Then she couldn't help but laugh. "You know, Chelsea, you might get into messes, but at least you have a sense of humor. Abby's going to need one, too, to get through her own troubles."
Stefan slid a hand to Victoria's neck. "Will you call me if you need me?"
Victoria turned to him and kissed him thoroughly, smiling when she pulled away and saw Chelsea's shocked expression. "Let me take Chelsea home and put some ice on her eye; then you can come over."
* * *
On the Friday flight back to Atlanta, Hunter studied Abby. One more interview and their week of playing husband and wife would end. Abby had fallen asleep on his shoulder, her eyelids fluttering gently as they coasted through the sky. The last three days had passed in a blur of simmering sensuality, sinful sex, and interviews. Hunter had never been so sated in his life.
Or so nervous.
He was walking a tightrope with Abby, and any minute the truth about his identity might shake the foundation beneath him and he would crash to the ground. He only prayed that when that happened, that she could forgive him.
Only Abby hadn't mentioned the future.
Not that they'd talked a lot.
They'd been too busy giving each other pleasure.
But when they'd come up for air twice, he'd heard her on the phone with her sister Victoria, the lawyer, speaking in a hushed, urgent voice. Something was seriously wrong.
He only wished she would confide in him so he could help her.
Odd, since he'd started out wanting to hurt her.
Abby stirred and opened her eyes, her hand still curled on his chest. His heart instantly picked up its beat, his body alive and thrumming with tension.
"I'm going to the rest room," she whispered. With a sly wink, she reached down and cupped his sex, then stood and moved down the aisle. He glanced down, his mouth growing dry when he saw that she'd laid her panties in his lap.
Hunter instantly lurched from his seat, his body hard as he watched her hips sway. He stole glances around them to make sure they weren't being watched, then slipped inside the small bathroom with her. She came at him with such fervor that he feared he might lose it before he could get inside her. "I've never done anything this impulsive and wild in my life."
He cupped her buttocks in his hands. "Me, neither."
She reached for his pants, unzipped them, and freed his already throbbing sex from its prison, stroking him hungrily as he pushed up her shirt and found her heaving breasts. His mouth suckled her until she whimpered and climbed on top of him.
"I have to have you," she whispered in a passion-glazed voice.
The cramped quarters made it awkward, and she bumped her head as she wrapped her body around him. But the bump was forgotten as she impaled herself upon him. He caught her moan of pleasure with his mouth. They rode together, pumping and grinding, clinging to each other as the tension mounted and spiraled through them. And just as the plane began to descend and the captain ordered everyone to buckle back up for landing, they climbed to heaven and soared there together.
* * *
Abby hated for the week to end. The past few days with Harry had been incredible, full of the most erotic love-making of her life. Sprinkled in with their lust, she also sensed some tender emotions that were fighting to rise above the mound of distrust.
But as they neared her home, reality nagged at her. What if Lenny was waiting?
Harry stroked a finger along her thigh, and she squeezed his hand. She wanted to tell Harry everything. But she had trusted Lenny enough to marry him and she had misjudged him terribly. What if Harry considered their weeklong romance simply a fling? She was the proponent of marriage and romance and love—he'd never marched to that tune.
The limo ate at the miles, the tension between her and Harry thick as they pulled into her driveway. The impatiens and marigolds she'd planted mocked her from the flower bed, reminding her of lost dreams and the life she'd imagined when she'd moved in the house, of her life before all this craziness.
Harry had seemed unusually quiet the entire ride home. They had one final appearance on Good Day, Atlanta Monday morning; then he would be free to go.
Would she see him again after their final appearance?
* * *
What was Abby thinking?
She'd been quiet and anxious the entire ride home.
He'd hoped their incredible week of lovemaking would have destroyed some of the walls she'd built around herself enough for her to confide in him. He'd given her a dozen chances, but each time she had retreated into a shell of silence. As they neared home and the acting gig came to a close, his anxiety mounted.
The driver parked in front of her house and Hunter helped Abby out with her bag. He itched to ask her to let him stay the night, but he had to leave the choice of an invitation up to her.
"I... Thanks for a great week," Abby said in a quiet voice once she'd unlock
ed the door and stepped inside.
He started to reach out and stroke her cheek, but she backed away slightly. "I... It's late, Harry. It's been wonderful, but maybe we should get some rest before the final show on Monday."
"Right." Was she already cutting him off? Writing him out of her life the way he would cut an awkward sentence or a misused adverb?
"I'll see you Monday morning."
"I'll call you Sunday night."
She nodded and started to close the door, but Hunter couldn't let the week end on this strained note. He grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her once more, putting his tongue and his whole heart into the moment. And when he walked back to the car, he carried a small amount of satisfaction in knowing that she had looked just as confused and passion-stricken as he felt.
At least she would have something to think about until Sunday.
A half hour later, the driver dropped him at his apartment. The place looked even more dismal than ever. Inside, it would be quiet. No Abby. No Lizzie.
Not even Angelica.
But a FedEx envelope sat propped on his stoop. He gathered it and hurried inside, dropped his garment bag, and tore it open. His heart thundered in his chest as he read the notice. Apparently Shelly had seen the TV interview in New York when the audience had overheard them panting and heaving in the curtained area. Dear God. No.
His ex-wife was suing him for full custody of Lizzie.
Chapter 24
Multiple Orgasms
Abby had never had as many orgasms as she'd had with Harry.
Which made it even harder to be alone.
The doorbell rang and Chelsea bounded in, Abby's heart lurching when Butterball wiggled and squirmed to get to her. "Hey, buddy. Did you like staying with Aunt Chelsea?" She scooped him into her arms, laughing at the colorful bow Chelsea had clipped to his hair.
"He looks like a girl," Abby said.
"You don't think it'll confuse him sexually, do you?"
Abby laughed. "I doubt it." Then she noticed Chelsea's black eye and her smile faded. "What happened to you?"
Chelsea hesitated, touching her puffy eye. "Oh, a little accident with another actress. We were practicing a pretend fight for this scene, but the girl missed the air and hit me by mistake."