by Bella Andre
"Not at all," Darrell replied, "but there's probably only enough hot water for one shower."
"We've taken plenty of showers together," Smith informed him, with another one of those feral smiles. "We'll manage."
Smith was not a petty person. Not a man who believed in low blows. Then again, he'd never met one of her exes before.
With that, he drew her toward the bathroom before she could protest. Not that she would have. First of all, because having her husband take her clothes off was one of her all-time favorite things in the entire world. And second of all, because Darrell had no business knocking her movie-star husband for being a part of Hollywood. He was a brilliant actor. And producer. And director. The way Darrell had phrased his comments about commercial endeavors was chest beating, plain and simple.
Two people and a dog were a tight fit for the tiny bathroom. The door was barely closed behind them when Smith asked, "What the hell did you see in him?" He made sure to pitch his voice low enough so that Darrell couldn't hear him.
"He was nice."
"Nice." Smith looked so disgusted with the entire concept of nice that she giggled. Even Magoo, who was rolling around on the bath mat to dry himself off, stopped to give her a distinctly unimpressed look.
"Nice can be good sometimes," she said, the small smile on her lips growing as she added, "but right now, I'd much rather you show me wicked."
She didn't know how he managed to strip her clothes off so fast, especially considering that the wet fabric was practically glued to her skin. He reached into the shower, turned it on, and as soon as the water was hot, tugged her inside the small stall with him.
She didn't realize how cold she'd been until they were under the hot spray. This shower was good enough that she was willing to forgive Darrell for his childish jab at Smith's profession.
But even better than the hot water was the way Smith's hands and mouth were everywhere.
She'd thought an overnight at her ex's house on her honeymoon would be as crazy as things were going to get. But she hadn't imagined that she and Smith would end up in his shower, making out. And perhaps she should have cared about what Darrell could hear, about what he might assume they were doing in his bathroom. But when Smith kissed her like this...
When he touched her like this...
When he told her how much he wanted her, how he couldn't get enough of her...
When he turned her so that her hands were flat on the tile and moved his hand down over her stomach to slide between her legs...
When he found her this wet, this desperate for him...
When he pressed his lips to the side of her neck and sizzles ran up and down her spine...
When he grabbed her hips in his big hands...
When he thrust into her and the pleasure was so big, so sweet, so perfect that she couldn't keep his name inside...
All she cared about was Smith and the love they'd found together. A love so big, so sexy, so full of heat and heart, that nothing else mattered.
Not even the fact that her ex was barely ten feet away in a tiny cabin with paper-thin walls while she and Smith found heaven in each other's arms.
*
Smith's mother, Mary, had raised him to be respectful in all situations. Particularly when someone was helping him.
But Darrell pushed every single one of Smith's buttons. Making love with Valentina in the shower had helped get his equilibrium closer to normal. Unfortunately, even after he'd rubbed her beautiful naked body dry with a towel and they'd gotten dressed, he still wasn't anywhere close to even-keeled. And it sure as hell didn't help that she was now wearing Darrell's clothes.
"I'm having a hell of a time trying to forget that he's kissed you, that you two used to be this close."
"We were never this close." Her words were soft but impassioned. "You just blew my mind. You always blow my mind, touch my heart. Being with him never did either of those things." Smith was surprised when she half-smiled and added, "Honestly, he was far more turned on by his leather-bound first edition of The Sun Also Rises than he was by me. He didn't even mind when I broke up with him."
"Like I said, he's an idiot."
Her half smile doubled. "Which is why you don't need to be jealous. Although it is kind of adorable." She put her arms around his neck and moved closer, her curves heating up every inch of him she touched. And everywhere she didn't too. "I've never seen you act like this before. Never seen you so possessive."
"Every time another man looks at you, I'm halfway to knocking his lights out. And because men always look at you, I'm constantly having to rein myself in and find increasingly deeper wells of self-control."
"You are?" She said it as if she was truly shocked that other men would look at her the way he did. She was by no means an insecure woman, but she wasn't one who put much stock in her looks either.
"Day in and day out, Valentina. You're the most beautiful, sexy, fascinating woman in the world--and there isn't a guy alive who wouldn't want to be with you. But you're mine." He heard himself growl the word like a Neanderthal, felt his hands tighten on her hips as he pulled her even closer, but this was his honeymoon, damn it. He refused to share his wife with anyone. Especially her ex. "And most guys have enough of a sense of self-preservation not to look at you in front of me the way he did out there."
"You're right that he doesn't have a lot of common sense." Her skin was rosy, not only from the shower, but also from his touch, his words. "You know how every time we're at an event and I start to worry, you find the best possible way to take my mind off it?" When he nodded, she said, "Maybe it would help if I gave you something else to think about every time you feel yourself boiling over and tempted to put your fist in his face."
"What's that?"
"This." She pressed her lips against his for a sizzling hot, but far too brief, kiss. Moving away, she put her hand on the doorknob and was about to walk out when she added over her shoulder, "And the fact that you're going to get very, very lucky on a fold-out couch tonight."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Valentina was a genius.
Smith wasn't at all surprised that she knew precisely how to reframe things to settle him down. She'd always known his head, his heart, better than anyone else. Had always been able to reach inside of him better than his family, even.
He was still amazed, however, that she'd managed to do the impossible. She'd taken the idea of spending the night on her ex's fold-out couch from horrendous...to bursting with anticipation.
Still, he could barely hold back his grimace as they sat down to bowls of canned soup--and Darrell's shirt and pants nearly ripped at the seams. He reminded himself to be grateful for the too-small clothes and the food, given that they didn't have a single other option right now. Somehow, he needed to make polite conversation before they could get to the pull-out couch part of the evening.
Granted, Smith wasn't sure that polite was actually on the menu tonight, given the scowl that had been painted on Darrell's face ever since they'd stepped out of the shower. No doubt he'd guessed what they'd been up to in there.
That thought cheered Smith enough to smile as he said, "Great shower. Plenty of room in there for two." He half expected her ex to leap across the table at him.
And maybe he might have, if Valentina hadn't been so quick to say, "I'd love to know what you've been working on lately."
"Funny you should ask," Darrell said, "I was just speaking with my agent a few minutes before you knocked on my door. My first novel was just short-listed for another literary prize."
"That's great. Congratulations." She sounded truly happy for him. Because she was a wonderful, giving person.
Unlike Smith, who was still fighting the urge to wipe the smug look off the guy's face. Even Magoo was lying beneath the dining table with his head buried in his paws.
"I'm really glad to hear not only that you've pursued your passion, but that it's going so well."
"It's been a true honor to join the ranks of my lite
rary heroes," Darrell said with what was likely supposed to be a humble smile, but which played decidedly arrogant. Especially when he added, "I had high hopes, although I never expected The New York Times to call it a triumph of spirit taking flight."
"I'd love to pick up a copy and read it," Valentina said, still smiling. "What's the title?"
"A Swallow's Wing."
"I take it the bird in your story only has one wing?" Smith enjoyed the guy's death-glare more than he should have.
"That's merely an allegorical facet of the tale," her ex replied. "A Swallow's Wing, at its core, is a deep exploration of the dichotomy of life perceived through the lens of both existential sorrows and incandescent euphoria."
Before Smith could respond to that--or make much headway into decoding what the heck Darrell had just said--Valentina said, "Are you working on a new novel?"
"You've always understood me so well, Val," Darrell said, gazing deeply into her eyes.
Pretending not to notice his soulful stare, she gestured to the notebooks and books strewn throughout his living room. "Your research papers were a pretty good indication of what you were up to. What's your new story about?"
His expression grew even more intense as he continued to drool over her. "True love lost. Thwarted destiny." Smith guessed this was supposed to be his poetic look. A look that he guessed other women probably fell for, especially when the guy threw around artsy-sounding words with it. "The twists of fate that destroy what might have been."
"Wow."
Valentina was rarely at a loss for words. Nor was she normally this close to breaking out into laughter when she was trying to remain serious. Smith, on the other hand, wasn't about to laugh anymore. Not when it sounded like the guy had gotten the story idea from his past relationship with Valentina.
Did her ex really think she had left him because of "twists of fate," rather than because he was a complete twit?
Finally, Valentina said, "That sounds..."
"Epic, I know," Darrell finished for her. "It's going to blow my previous work out of the water. The great American novel that the world has been waiting for."
"I'll be sure to mark the release date on my calendar so that I don't miss it," Valentina said with an impressively straight face. She was doing better than Magoo, who clearly couldn't take it anymore and had left to curl up in front of the fire on the far side of the room. "Will that be soon?"
"I can't rush my muse, I'm afraid. The book will be done when it's done, much to my agent's and publisher's chagrin." He flicked a glance at Smith. "I'm sure there will be a huge bidding war for it in Hollywood."
Clearly pushed too far by that barely veiled hint that their production company should look at optioning his book, Valentina simply focused on dipping her spoon into the bowl of soup in front of her rather than continuing to smile and make small talk.
"So..." Darrell's eyes flicked to the wedding rings on Valentina's left hand. "How did you two connect?"
Valentina's smile came back as bright as the sun. "Smith hired my sister--you remember Tatiana, don't you?--to co-star in one of his movies. I used to be her manager, so I was on set with them every day."
"Valentina stole my heart, right from the first moment we met." As Smith thought back to that day when he'd been lucky enough to meet Valentina, he forgot about her ex and the guy's puppy-dog longing for her. All that mattered, all he could see, was the woman beside him. The woman who meant everything to him. Turning to face her, he said, "If I could have proposed to you that day, if there had been any chance that you would have said yes to marrying a complete stranger, I would have dropped to one knee right then and there and asked you to be mine."
Her eyes grew big. "You really would have done that? Even though we were in the middle of the meeting room, surrounded by lawyers and agents?"
"All I saw was you, Valentina."
Just as she was all he saw now, the cabin and its inhabitant having completely faded away as he put his hands on her cheeks and drew her closer for a kiss.
A kiss that confirmed everything he'd just told her. That his love for her was boundless. That forever had begun the first time he'd set eyes on her. That he cherished every word, every touch, every moment they shared.
When they finally drew back from each other, her hazel eyes were dark with his favorite blend of love and desire.
Darrell's chair scraped loudly on the floor as he pushed back from the table. "So you're both in Hollywood?" He dropped his bowl and spoon next to the already full sink with a loud clatter.
Earlier, Smith would have gotten his back up at the way her ex was trying to act like he'd never been to a movie before. But at last, Valentina had finally managed to soothe the savage, jealous beast inside of him. Hell, if he'd been her ex, he'd be feeling petty and beat up over having let the most incredible woman in the world get away.
Deciding it was time to cut the guy some slack, Smith said, "We are," and then, "You've been so hospitable, why don't you let us wash up?" It was quite an offer actually, considering that it didn't look like Darrell had washed any dishes for several weeks and everything in the sink and on the counter was covered in a layer of greenish-brown crud. "You could tell us more about your book while we get your kitchen back in order."
"That'd be great," Darrell instantly agreed, happily launching into a reading of A Swallow's Wing.
With Valentina standing beside Smith at the sink while he washed and she dried, bumping her hip seductively against his as she put newly clean cups and silverware away, Smith was more than happy to listen to Darrell wax lyrical about souls nearly plunging into the abyss then miraculously soaring toward nirvana.
Over an hour later--there had been a lot of dirty dishes in Darrell's kitchen--Valentina stretched her arms over her head and yawned. "I'm exhausted." She spoke loudly enough for Darrell to hear her in the sitting room.
She was never going to win any Academy Awards, and Smith loved her even more for it. She simply wasn't capable of faking anything she didn't feel. But there was a pull-out couch waiting for them, and Smith didn't care if it was barely dark out. He was beyond ready to get even luckier than he already was with his beautiful wife.
"If you could point us to those sheets you mentioned," Smith said, "we'd be happy to get out of your hair now."
He could see her ex trying to think of a reason to delay their bedtime. Obviously, Valentina saw the same thing, because before Darrell could protest, she said, "It's actually our honeymoon."
"Congratulations."
Poor guy was still so head over heels for Valentina that he could barely get the word out. Finally taking pity on him, Smith said, "Not many people would be so nice about putting up with newlyweds. We owe you one, Darrell. When we get back to the office, we'll talk to some people who might be interested in taking a look at your book."
The other man's eyes lit up, but he quickly tried to downplay it. "Sure." He forced a shrug. "If something works out." But there was a new spring in his step as he got them the sheets. "Sleep well."
Five minutes later, after Smith had demanded submission from the ancient pull-out couch that kept wanting to spring closed on his fingers, the sheets were on. Magoo was still snoring in front of the fire, and Smith planned to check on him later in the evening to see if he wanted to come back into the office to sleep.
But for now, it was just husband and wife. Alone again.
Finally.
CHAPTER NINE
"You're a good man, Smith Sullivan," Valentina said softly as she put her arms around him. "Willing to say anything to get us out of there. Now you've got Darrell dreaming of Hollywood blockbusters."
"It was worth it, even if I have to beg a studio to option his book. Anything to finally be alone with you." He lifted the flannel shirt over her head and tossed it into the corner. "And to get you out of these clothes." He unzipped and unbuttoned the jeans she'd been given to wear and kicked them away once they fell to the floor.
She was wearing a set of her soft
gray cotton tank bra and panties, and just as he'd gone crazy for the exquisite lingerie she'd had on for their wedding night, he had the same reaction now. Cotton or lace, flannel or silk, Valentina was the most beautiful woman in the world.
"The things you do to me." He put her hand over his chest so that she could feel his heart beating a million miles an hour.
"The things I'm about to do to you." Her voice was husky as she made quick work of his clothes too, then took a step back to look at him. "I used to think that one day, you would take off your clothes, and I would have seen it all before and know what to expect, know how to prepare myself so that looking at you wouldn't make me tremble, wouldn't turn me to goo inside. So that I would be able to keep my breath steady." She moved closer again to run the flats of her hands over his chest. "But now I know better. It will always stun me how much I need you, how much I want you. You'll always take my breath away. I didn't even know what I was missing until you showed me."
Before he'd met Valentina, everyone thought he had everything he could ever want--fame, money, a close-knit family. But until she'd loved him, he'd been missing the most important thing of all. Marrying her had been a bigger thrill than any movie role, than any industry award could ever be. And being her husband was a privilege, an honor that he'd never take for granted.
"Should I show you again, Mrs. Sullivan?"
"I want to show you tonight." She took his hands in hers and led him over to the bed, then tugged him down so that he was sitting on the edge of it. "Do you know what one of my favorite things about working on our movie sets is?"
"Getting to tell stories every day?"
"That's good, but not the best." She stripped off her panties and bra, then lowered herself onto his lap so that her arms were around his neck and she was straddling him.
It was hard to get his mouth, his brain, to form coherent words with her heat surrounding him, her soft skin, her toned muscles pressing against him. But he managed to get out, "The chance to travel the world?"