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“What took you so long?” she asked between kisses. “I had to wait ten whole seconds for you.”
“I’ll be prompt from now on.” His hand slid up her thigh. Her soft skin was silk and he was hard as steel.
“You’d better,” she whispered as his mouth found hers.
Chapter Thirty-Five
For a man who was used to not getting home until dawn and then sleeping the night off, mornings were quickly becoming Christian’s favorite time of day. Presently, he was tangled up in Zoe. His thigh wedged between hers, her arm under his neck and his around the sweet curves of her waist.
Placing soft kisses along her neck, he worked his way up to the rim of her ear and gently bit down. She practically purred in response and rubbed her bare br**sts against his chest, her tight ni**les scorching his skin.
“You’re going to be late, sweetheart.” He tightened his arms around her for a moment, then skimmed the sides of her body.
She sighed lustily. “Kiss me.”
He found her lips, her kisses drugging, addicting. Just like the first time. Just like every time. He wedged his thigh deeper, spreading her legs. They fell open. Moisture from her damp curls seeped into the skin of his thigh. “You’re wet for me.”
Her hand glided down to his groin, wrapping her fingers around the base of his c**k and stroking. “Always.”
His cell rang, playing a specific ringtone, and he groaned. He had to answer this call. Reluctantly, he reached for it and said by way of apology, “It’s Martha. She’s threatened to cut me off if I don’t answer.”
“Please, she’s all bark and no bite.”
“That’s because she likes you,” he said with a laugh. “You don’t cause her problems. Just make her money.”
“I’m getting in the shower.” She slid from the bed and walked to the bathroom, casting a heavy-lidded look in his direction. “You can join me when you’re done.”
His c**k twitched in response. Oh, he’d be there all right. He managed to press the talk button before the call went to voice mail. “Good morning, most brilliant of agents.”
“Do you plan to use your timely reunion with my niece to your advantage?” Martha’s gravelly voice came in loud and clear over the phone.
“Jesus, first Sasha and now you. Let me make this clear for all parties involved: I am not and will not use Zoe to advance my career or save my ass.” Silence met his statement.
Then he heard Brennen shout in the background, “Oh, come on, Violet. Stop doing that.”
“Brennen, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: leave Violet alone. If she wants your help, she’ll ask for it,” Martha shouted back.
Holy hell, had the woman finally entered the twenty-first century and gotten a phone with speaker capabilities?
“But she keeps banging on the computer screen,” Brennen complained.
“I was pretending it was you,” came Violet’s saccharine reply.
“Ready and willing, lass,”
“Good God, I’m not running a daytime soap—or a daycare,” Martha groused. He heard a door slam. “Now back to you.”
“Thanks for remembering I’m here.” He flicked his eyes to the bathroom door. The shower was running and he could only imagine what his wife looked like with water glistening all over her curvy little body.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say. It won’t be pretty,” Martha said.
He exhaled as a knot formed in his gut. “It never is.”
***
Zoe found Christian in bed with his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought. His golden chest gleamed in the morning sun, the rose tattoo a delicate contrast to the lean musculature of his body. He was almost too pretty, too beautiful for a man, and at times it made her completely self-conscious.
She rummaged through her dresser, searching for panties and a bra.
“Come here,” came Christian’s voice, low and sinful in the otherwise silent room.
After slipping on a pair of panties, she turned to face him. “I-I,” she stuttered, watching as he drew the covers down his body and peered through his gold tipped lashes at her. Pale blue eyes darkened and her heart did a summersault in her chest. He was hard and ready for her.
“Come here now.”
“But I’ll be late,” she protested weakly.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed. She backed against the wall, sliding along it as he advanced.
“I have other plans for you.” His gait was smooth. Lean hips rolling and thighs flexing in tandem.
Her eyes widen. “You already had your chance.”
She turned to run from him, but he caught her by the elbow. “Do you want me to chase you?” His grip tightened, then let her go. “Run, but be prepared for when I catch you.”
She gave a little laugh, but when she looked up at him, his face was dark, dangerous. Almost the same as when he found out about her lying to him. “Is there something wrong?”
He gave her a small nod. “Only you can fix it. Me.”
She laid her hand on his chest. His heart beat wildly beneath her fingertips. “You’re not broken,” she said firmly. What he needed was for someone to love him without conditions. Without throwing his past in his face. Or his bad decisions. The ring he placed in her jewelry box seemed to call to her. But it wasn’t time. Not yet. Not before she gave him one of his own.
“I’ve been dropped from your film, from every ad campaign and endorsement, and I’ve been asked to sever all ties with B.T.S. To say it was a rumor that I would be in the fall PSA’s. I was also outed as their anonymous donor. They don’t want my money anymore either. For all intents and purposes, I am persona non grata. Not that I can blame them.” His eyes dropped to the floor.
Zoe brushed back a lock of golden hair that had fallen over his brow. “But you’re their biggest donor.”
“I’m their biggest liability.”
“Well, it’s not right.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
His features smoothed out and it felt as if a great energy had left the room. His body. “Go to your dance class, love. I’ll be fine.”
“No, class can wait.” She grabbed his hand and led him back to their bed. She gestured for him to get in and climbed in after him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him to her and stroked his hair. “Everything will be okay.” How her heart ached for him. She knew his career didn’t matter to him as much as working with B.T.S.
