by John, Ashley
“I don't feel like that all the time.”
“You have it in you to,” he leaned his head on hers, and she returned the gesture by leaning her head against his shoulder, “you can do anything you want to in life.”
“Is this what you want to be doing in life?”
“Being here with you?”
Her heart skipped several beats. That's not what she'd meant, but hearing him jump to that conclusion was nice to hear.
“I meant traveling and being a journalist,” she whispered.
“Oh,” he sounded caught off-guard, “I love being a journalist. Writing is my passion. I love traveling as well, but it can get a bit tiring.”
“Do you have a dream?”
Even though she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was concentrating hard on the answer. She'd learned that Nolan was the type of person who thought out everything he said before he said it.
Delilah, not so much.
“You don't want to hear about that. It's boring.”
“Tell me,” she urged.
He thought again for a moment before speaking.
“I want to set up my own company,” he started, “maybe a journalist agency, or an online magazine. I haven't decided yet. Print sales are down every year, so I want to get out of it sooner rather than later.”
“So do it.”
“You know it's not that easy to make these big changes.”
She knew that all too well. She'd worked her entire adult life towards creating a life for herself, that was being shaped and tweaked along the way by a team of people, all pushing and dragging her in different directions.
“Do you want to know what my dream is?” she whispered.
“Of course I do,” his voice was low and rich.
She paused. She'd not thought about it for a long time and she'd never told anybody, apart from her mother.
“When my pop career fizzles out, I want to set up a label of my own. I had this idea when I was a kid that when you become a singer, you got to do things your own way and people would go along with you, but that's not how it happens. I want to set up this new kind of label that supports and develops artists into becoming the people they want to be. I have this vision of me traveling places and plucking undiscovered talent from shit situations. I want to help kids who were like me.”
She finished talking and realized she'd spilled far more of her dream than she'd intended to. Nolan let go of her hand and lifted his head from hers. She followed and looked up to him. Their eyes locked, and even through the dark, they twinkled brightly at her.
“That's the Delilah I see,” his voice like smooth velvet, through the darkness, “that's the real you.”
He was right.
He didn't judge or question.
He didn't want her to be anything other than what she wanted to be.
He didn't want to change her.
“One day I'll be her,” her smile wavered.
Leaning in gently, Nolan's soft lips brushed against hers. Her breath trembled as they delicately kissed. It was as if they'd never kissed before, and they were old lovers, both at once. She feel her heart pounding rhythmically in her chest, matching the steady pounding coming from one of the bars.
“You're already that girl,” Nolan pulled away gently and rested his forehead on hers, “I just wish you could be in my shoes to see what I see.”
“What do you see?”
“I see you. The real you.”
Her heart-rate increased, taking over the music from the club. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed down a lump in her throat. Hazily, she opened her eyes and inhaled his distinct scent.
“You're the first man who has.”
“Good.”
Nolan thrust himself on Delilah, forcing their lips together. She opened her mouth to him as his strong and manly hands caressed her face. As their tongues explored each other's mouths, she leaned backwards into the sand, taking Nolan's weight on top of her. With her hands on his back, she clenched a fist full of his loose denim shirt, urging the fabric to vanish between them.
Under the moon light, they writhed around in the sand, locked together. Nolan's hand found its way onto her breast, and as she moaned gently through the kisses, he started to caress her over her dress. Not pulling away from her tender lips, she guided his hand down the front of her dress and underneath her bra.
She wanted him so badly.
“Delilah – not here – we shouldn't,” Nolan moaned through the kisses, forcing himself harder onto her with every word.
“I want you so bad,” was all that escaped her mouth.
They continued to kiss, and he continued to touch her. She wanted to give in to her desires and she wanted Nolan to as well, but she could feel him fighting with his conscience.
“Delilah – please stop me.”
Through his protests, he didn't stop himself. Instead, he rubbed his hips against hers, forcing his solid member against her. Her hands found their way up to the base of his neck, pulling him even closer into the kiss. She didn’t want him to stop or pull away. She wanted to sink even further into the sand, with his firm body on hers.
“I can’t do this,” Nolan pulled his head away from hers, and closed his eyes heavily.
“Nolan, I want this,” Delilah urged, pulling his head down to hers again.
He let her kiss him, but only for a brief moment. Much to Delilah’s dismay, he pulled away again, but this time he didn’t hover above her face. He dug his elbows into the sand and sprung backwards off her body, resting his straddled knees over her stomach before standing up and turning to face the sea.
Sunken into the sand, she wiped the hair from her face, catching sight of the aching bulge in the front of his jeans. In her whole life, she'd never wanted sex with anybody else as much. Was it because he kept pushing her away, or was it something deeper than that?
“I need to apologize,” he said quietly and calmly as he watched the sea.
Delilah wanted to be mad at him, but he sounded hurt. Scrambling up out of the sand, she dusted the grains from her dress and hair and joined him by slipping her hand into is. Each time their skin touched it sent tingling spreading all over her body, just like it was the first time they were touching.
“Is it something I've done?”
“No!” Nolan protested, “I can safely say, it's all about me, not you.”
Delilah was itching to know why he kept stopping.
“We keep getting into these situations, and I know it's not just me taking it there.”
“I know it isn't,” Nolan laughed softly, “believe me when I say that I keep steering it there too. I can't seem to resist you.”
He squeezed her hand tightly and gazed down at her, with the moonlight dancing in his eyes.
“So don't resist me,” she whispered.
He let out a deep and heavy sigh and turned back to the water.
“I didn't want to tell you this because it's embarrassing. I don't want to rush into this,” he paused, “I don't want to rush into things because I haven't had sex since I left my wife. Two years ago.”
Silence.
“Two years ago?” Delilah repeated.
“Two years ago,” Nolan nodded, “and I kind of want the first time to be special. It sounds silly, but I've built it up to be something that it isn't.”
“So I guess I'm not the right girl?” she nodded, dropping his hand.
He turned to her and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her in close.
“Never say that Delilah. You're more than the right girl. You don't understand the effect you have on me! I can't resist you, but I keep trying with all of my power because I don't want the first time we have sex to be on the beach after drinking a bottle of wine each. I want to remember every second. I, y'know, want it to be special,” his voice dropped off, his eyes lowered to the sand and he sheepishly shrugged.
Wave after wave of heat burst from Delilah's heart to spread across her entire body. She wanted to
kiss and hug Nolan and tell him that was the most romantic and beautiful thing she'd ever heard. She still wanted to rip his clothes off, but she respected him so much for respecting her, and respecting sex.
“I can wait,” she flicked her hair over her shoulder and smiled at him through the dark, “for you Nolan, I think I'd do just about anything.”
The words took even her by surprise.
“Well, right now, you can walk me back to the hotel? How does that sound?” he smiled.
“Like the perfect end to a perfect day.”
He bit his lip playfully and wrapped his arm over her shoulder. As he walked her up the beach, she slid her arm around his back and nuzzled into his side, letting his intoxicating scent wash over her.
Chapter 18
Delilah's eyes opened on the day before her big Spanish TV debut, but that wasn't the first thought to enter her head. She bolted upright in bed and quickly started to wonder who had tidied her bedroom. She stared at the dressing table, rubbing the sleep from her left eye.
Where was her make-up?
Why was there a laptop there?
“Morning,” Nolan appeared in the balcony doorway.
“What time is it?”
“It's nearly 10am. You looked so peaceful, so I didn't want to wake you.”
She looked down and she was wearing a baggy white T-shirt that wasn't hers. Nolan was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and from the way it clung to his junk, nothing else.
“Did we-”
“Don't worry,” Nolan walked into the bedroom, his tanned abs flexing and twisting as he did, “I was the perfect gentleman. You said you didn't want to go to sleep, so I invited you in, but you pretty much passed out straight away.”
Images of very sleepily walking up the stairs after an exhausting day wandered through Delilah's mind.
“Where did you sleep?” Delilah asked.
“I wasn't that tired,” he smiled, perching on the edge of the bed, “I had a lot on my mind.”
Searching his face, he didn't show any signs of not sleeping. If she ever didn't sleep, she turned into a zombie, but aside from a little redness around his eyes he still looked as handsome as ever.
“I need to get back to my room,” she jumped up off the bed and picked her dress up off the ground, “Marcus will be having a bitch fit if he's tried to get in touch with me.”
She doubted he would try after her outburst at the studio.
“I meant everything I said yesterday, by the way,” he smiled at her, “just in case you were wondering.”
She dropped her head to the ground and smiled to herself.
“Good,” she smiled, “because I did too.”
“Have you got any plans today?”
She turned, brushed her hair from her face and shook her head with a smile spreading across her lips.
“I have tickets to this Gala tonight in the city. It will probably be super boring, and I wasn't going to go alone, but I thought it would be fun to get dressed up and have a bit of fun.”
Her mind wandered to her suitcase. Had she brought anything worthy of a Gala?
“I don't have anything to -”
“You need a dress? What size are you?”
“Didn't anybody ever tell you that you aren't supposed to ask a woman her size?” she popped one of her hands on her hip.
“I have a friend, she's a designer. I met her on my last trip to Spain, so I'm sure she'll happily donate a dress to the Delilah White.”
Delilah had almost forgot she was that pop star.
“I'm a sample size 2,” one of the benefits of being so thin meant that designer's clothes usually fit her.
“2,” he smiled at her, “I'll be in touch.”
With one last wink and bite of his lip, he spun around on his heels and sauntered out onto the balcony. She kept her eyes fixed on his muscle covered back until he was out of sight.
She ran back to her room, determined that she wasn't going to show up to a gala, no matter how boring, not looking a million dollars.
***
“You can't go out tonight De! You just can't,” Marcus protested.
“If you don't shut up, I'm going to mess up my eyeliner again, so hush!”
Marcus turned up at her door sometime after dinner, holding two plates of food and a pair of big puppy eyes. After making sure he'd suffered, she let him in and brushed off his apology.
“It's your performance tomorrow. Tony would say the same thing. You need to relax and get a good night's sleep.”
“I've been doing this for years. I'm not scared of a performance.”
“But it's a big deal! This show is seen all over Europe. It's your big break here.”
“If it was that big, Tony would be here. If it was that big, they wouldn't have put me in this stupid hotel. If it was that big, I'd have more than just an assistant here for two weeks.”
“What do you even see in that journalist anyway? He's not that good looking.”
“Liar.”
Marcus shot her a look that told her he was more jealous that she'd snagged the hot guy who didn't turn out to be gay for once.
“You're playing with fire De,” Marcus glared at her through the mirror, “you're going to make a lot of people angry back home if this gets out.”
“Do I look like I care anymore?” she shot back the glare through the mirror, “things are going to change when I get back.”
“Good luck with that,” he sniggered.
“Thanks for the support,” she looked back to her reflection in the mirror, applied her lip liner and smacked her lips together.
She leaned back in the chair and admired her handiwork. Despite not having a makeup artists help, she was happy with the result. Her dark smoky eyes were sexy, not clownish, and her cheeks were slightly tinted, giving her a natural glow. She looked refined, but she still looked like herself.
“How do I look?”
“You need more lip,” Marcus said dismissively.
“You need to give me less lip, boy. Remember who pays your bills.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes on her and plastered on a fake smile, “you look beautiful.”
“That's more like it.”
As the sun started to set she loosely curled her hair, pinning most of it up into a messy bun at the back, leaving a couple of strands to hang at the front of her face. Simple, yet elegant.
Marcus flicked the lights on, and through the hazy darkness, she felt the nerves start to collect in her stomach. She wasn't just nervous about seeing Nolan, she was nervous about the dress he was going to pick for her. She had no idea who the designer was, and she had no idea if Nolan had enough taste to pick something that would look good on her.
Eying up the designer dresses she'd brought with her on the trip, she wondered if anything would be Gala worthy. She had no idea what kind of gala it was, but she was sure that dresses as short as hers wouldn't make the cut. Just as she was about to rummage through and check, there was a stern knock on the door.
"I'll get that!" Delilah practically pushed Marcus out of the way to answer the door.
"Your dress awaits, Cinderella," Marcus quipped sarcastically before collapsing onto the bed.
Biting her lip, she let out a silent squeal before opening the door to see a long black clothes bag, "I was starting to think you weren't coming."
The bag lowered, but it wasn't Nolan standing behind it. A scrawny hand clung onto the bag reluctantly and a hairy lip snarled with a bitter smirk.
"You," she spat, "Mr Nolan ask me to give you this."
She thrust the bag forwards, and it would have fell to the ground if Delilah didn't dive to catch it.
"Oh, thanks, I guess," Delilah expected Julia to scurry back to her desk, but she planted her feet on the ground and crossed her arms angrily.
"You. You no good for Mr Nolan. He nice. You, not so much. He deserves nice woman with curves, not skinny thing like you."
She crossed her arms even harder and narrowed her
piercing eyes on Delilah.
Delilah was about to go to town on Julia. She wanted to point out her mustache and the hangover over her pants. She wanted to poke her stomach to ask her if she had the curves 'Mr Nolan' should be looking for, but she had a better idea.
"Thank you Julia," Delilah smiled sweetly, “it was lovely to see you.”
She scowled and pursed her lips so tightly, they were nothing more than a thin line across her wrinkled face.
“Mr Nolan meet you outside at 8. He bring car," she looked Delilah up from her toes to her eyes with disgust before shuffling back down the hall, muttering various words under her breath in Spanish.
"Unzip it!" Marcus urged.
For all of his protests, he seemed just as excited as Delilah. Filled with nerves, she hung the dress on the back of the bathroom door and yanked down the zip as slowly as she dared.
When the zip reached the bottom, she closed her eyes briefly before pulling back the covers to reveal the dress.
Her jaw dropped and her stomach churned.
Chapter 19
Walking down the stairs of Paraíso, she clung onto the front of her dress, letting her white Gucci heels take center stage. When she reached the bottom of the stairs and dodged the evil eyes Julia was sending her way, she headed out to the front of the hotel.
It was already 8:05pm, but she liked to go by the rule that it's better to be late and make an impression. Plus, it took Marcus an awfully long time to zip her into the dress.
Just as promised, Nolan was waiting for her. He was leaning casually against a small black chauffeur driven car, with his arms crossed across his smart tuxedo. His eyes were fixed on something that was happening next door, so Delilah took a couple of seconds to admire him, before his eyes landed on her.
He sprung up from the car, instantly dropping his hands into his pockets, trying to look cool.
“Wow, Delilah, you look...wow!” he stuttered.
She ran her hand across her sweetly scented neck and along the smooth fabric of the dress. The dress Nolan had chosen was near perfection, she was sure that it was too good to be true. It appeared to be made from gold silk or taffeta, and fit Delilah's body like a glove. A plunging neckline put Delilah's breasts on show, but subtly so. Below the bust, the dress dropped to the ground in an empire line, fanning out slightly at the bottom. It hung off Delilah's body like it had been made for her, and she'd never felt more beautiful. Coupled with some of her simple diamond earrings and a thin diamond bracelet, she looked ready for a movie premier.