Virgin's Sweet Rebellion

Except tonight, with Ben, she’d actually been herself. Mostly.

Another reason this thing between them wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t do real.

Closing her eyes, Olivia sank into the froth of bubbles, determined not to think about Ben—or the way he’d kissed—again that night.

Several hours later she was lying in the huge king-size bed staring at the ceiling as she relived those precious seconds when Ben had taken control of their kiss. The way his hands had felt on her hips...his tongue sliding into her mouth...

She let out a shudder. All that raw passion directed at her...that had been as exciting as the actual feel of his tongue and lips.

Why, Olivia wondered, had it been so exciting? Maybe because so much of her life was a performance; Ben’s response had been real. And maybe she craved just a little bit—or even a whole lot—of real.

But why had he thrust her away from him like that? Was he angry that he’d enjoyed the kiss? He had enjoyed it, of that she was sure. She’d felt the evidence, and that had thrilled her too.

But then he’d acted so disgusted, so angry... She wondered with an icy pang of anxiety if the gossip rags would decide to go with the ‘trouble in paradise’ theme rather than the hearts and roses Olivia had been hoping for?

Knowing she wouldn’t sleep now, Olivia got up from the bed and went into the living room where she’d left her laptop. She powered it up and clicked on a few of the celebrity gossip sites before she found what she was looking for.

Or rather, what she wasn’t looking for.

A photo of Ben pushing her away from him, his features tight with—what? Anger? Disgust? Whatever it was, it didn’t look good, and the gossip site had run with it. Relationship Already on the Rocks? the headline blazed. Olivia scanned the article, saw there was nothing, absolutely nothing, about her film or her career. In fact, the whole article was aimed more for fans of Ben Chatsfield, the ‘sexy restaurateur’ who was ‘apparently seeing aspiring actress Olivia Harrington.’ Aspiring. She was not aspiring. She’d been in half a dozen films and she had a major role coming up.

Grimacing in disgust, Olivia shut her laptop and swung around to stare out the wraparound windows at the night sky. It was still raining, and the drops trickled down the angled windowpanes like tears.

She couldn’t stay here and fume. She needed to know just why Ben had pushed her away—and what they were going to do about it now. Damage control. And since she’d been impulsive with Ben before, she might as well run with it.

Abruptly Olivia stood up and grabbed a dressing gown. She knotted it tightly around her waist before she marched out of her suite.

Two minutes later she stood in front of the door of her former bedroom, where Ben had intimated he was staying. She hoped he really was staying there, because it was two o’clock in the morning and she didn’t fancy waking some stranger up.

She knocked. Loudly.

After a tense minute or so she heard low, annoyed mumbling, and then the sound of a knee or elbow connecting with something hard, followed by a savage curse. Then the door swung open, and Ben stood there, squinting in the light from the hall, his hair sticking up in every direction, wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

The breath dried in Olivia’s lungs. Every rational thought—and there hadn’t been many to begin with at this point in time—flew from her head. She stared at Ben with his bedhead and stubble and six-pack abs and felt a wave of longing crash over her with the force of a tsunami. And she knew she’d been fooling herself, thinking she wanted to wake him up in the middle of the night so they could discuss damage control. She’d come here because she wanted to be kissed.

Ben rubbed a hand over his face, blinking as if he couldn’t believe she was really there. ‘Olivia?’

‘Yes...’ She took a step forward, jutting her chin, and decided to go on the attack. Surely that would be better than throwing herself at him. ‘Why did you push me away tonight?’

He blinked some more. ‘Push you away?’

‘After—after you kissed me.’

He arched an eyebrow, turning supremely disdainful and even arrogant, despite the bedhead and boxers. ‘As I recall, you kissed me.’

‘So what if I did? You obviously enjoyed it.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them, and Olivia saw Ben’s eyes flare with awareness, felt the answering heat in herself. Uh-oh. ‘And then you pushed me away like you couldn’t stand the sight of me,’ she continued, aware that she was babbling in her nervousness. ‘And guess what the paparazzi decided to go for?’

‘You mean they’ve already published some photos?’