Hollywood Ever After (Red Carpet 1)

I walked into the hall, boldly holding my hand out to him in offering. I’m not sure whether the slight trembling of my hand was noticeable to him or not.

“Come with me?” The words were out. My lungs were tight, my heartbeat erratic, but I’d said them. He could say no, I knew that, but I hoped…

He took my hand and walked with me to my door. My room was at the end of the hall and I stopped in front of it, looking at him. I almost lost my edge, almost let my nerves overwhelm my desire, but then he looked at me and there was no going back.

“May I?” He waited.

He was asking permission to open the door—and so much more. I nodded, handing him the card. This time he saw my hand shaking and smiled.

He unlocked the door and held it open. I entered, feeling the warmth of his chest as I brushed past him into the room. I shivered a bit at the contact.

My eyes swept the room as I dropped my sandals. The doors to the balcony were open wide. White gauze curtains blew across the stone floor, carried on the ocean breeze. Brilliant moonlight spilled inside, casting an inviting glow. The intimacy of the room heightened the awareness coursing through me. I heard the door close and knew he was behind me, waiting. Suddenly it was very hard to breathe.

“Claire.” His voice was low and tight.

I turned to answer him, but the look on his face silenced me. He hesitated and I found myself moving to him. His arms slid around my waist, his eyes on my face. His breath hitched as he pulled me against him.

My hands traced his face then slid down his neck to grasp his shirtfront. I gasped as one of his warm hands slid inside the back of my dress.

I felt impatient, suddenly overcome with need. I let go of his shirt and buried my hands in his hair, pulling until his lips were on mine. I was rewarded with the full weight of his mouth, soft and hungry on mine. He groaned as my lips parted, allowing his tongue to trace the inner softness of my mouth. My hands fisted in his hair.

His lips left mine, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his hands clenched and unclenched in my hair. “I don’t do…this,” he whispered, his voice ragged.

That was comforting. My boldness restored, I answered, “I’ve never done this.” But I wanted to, more than I wanted anything.

He smiled. His lips closed on mine, stealing what little breath I had. His hand slid up and down my bare back in long, mesmerizing strokes. I leaned into him, into his touch, shivering in his arms.

My hands opened the buttons of his shirt and I reveled in the feel of his warm skin beneath my hands. My lips lightly traced his collarbone, pressing against the racing pulse in his neck. His hands trembled against my back, inflaming my desire. I shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall.

His hands rested on the straps of my dress, hesitating. I helped, pushing the straps so the dress slid silently to the floor. His eyes traveled down the length of me before my body was crushed against him. His chest was hard against mine, his back warm and solid under my fingers. I tilted my face to his, wanting his lips on mine. His mouth pulled and parted, stoking the fire of my desire.

He had big hands with long, strong fingers. Very nice for playing the piano, I thought as we stumbled together to fall on the bed.

Those hands were everywhere, removing the scanty bit of lace serving as my panties before traveling up the back of my knee, my hip, my back. His lips followed. There was more to me than I’d previously realized and he was rapidly exploring every inch. I was going to explode.

He was not hurried, just driven. He was shaking with need, I could feel it, and I wanted all of him. His hands were on the waist of his pants, unbuttoning them and yanking them off with impatient, jerky movements before tossing them across the room. The instant our skin touched, I gasped at the sensation of him against me. There was no control as I let my hands roam over him, loving the feel of him.

His hand stroked upward from my hip to my side, tracing my breast. My eyes closed, my nerves inflamed by his touch. His lips fell to my nipple, his tongue and mouth making me arch into him. My hands tangled in his hair and I stifled a moan.

He pulled me under him then, his fingers traveling lightly across my stomach to grasp my knee and part my legs. In one agonizingly slow movement, he was part of me. His breath came out in a guttural moan. I wasn’t sure I could breathe at all. The feeling of him deep inside me made me ache for more.

He stilled over me, his jaw tight as he fought for control. Something about his fragile restraint empowered me. My hand brushed over his cheek and I wrapped a leg around his hip, the movement making his jaw rigid and his face redden as he blew out a deep breath. I arched beneath him, feeling my body respond and my chest tighten.

“Bloody hell,” his voice rasped as he began to move with me. His movements were sporadic. I could feel his restraint as he tried to breathe through the urge to let himself go.

I whispered against his neck, “Don’t hold back.” Please don’t stop, I thought as I lifted my hips.

He looked at me once then let go with a groan. His hips thrust powerfully again and again, his body hard and fast against me. He pushed, his breath breaking as a low groan escaped him, and his hands tightened on my hips. He stiffened, his groan strangled and his fingers holding my hips as he climaxed. I had never experienced anything so intense in all my life. I was aching with need.

He fell, coming to lie beside me, gasping. One hand was still tangled in my hair, the other now on my stomach.

“Dear God,” he said raggedly.

I managed a breathy laugh. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him into a tight embrace. I tried to relax against him, tried to ignore the throb of longing between my legs. I rested my head on his chest, the pounding of his heart a rapid drumbeat in my ear. It had been too long since my body had been loved and it was eager to remember it to the fullest extent.

We lay there quietly for a few minutes, his breathing slowing. “Sorry, Claire,” he whispered. His hands pulled my hair back, smoothing it over my shoulders so he could see me.

“For what?” I rolled, resting my chin on his chest to look at him.