A Beautiful Star (Beautiful Series, Book 5) (11 page)

I whimper, my hand sliding down to his hip where I pull and move against him, enjoying the groan that escapes his body as he presses his erection against my side then shifts his weight slightly so his legs are tangled with mine, his thigh, pressing against my centre.

Rolling my hips, I lose myself in the pleasure of the friction between my legs and the glorious press and squeeze at my breast as his kisses move from my mouth to my jaw, and then to my neck and across my chest.

Arching my back slightly, I push my breasts up at him, begging him with my body to continue downward, and understanding my desire, he lifts my top higher, the fresh air washing over my flesh, causing me to whimper in anticipation.

I shift my hips against his thigh again, rolling back and forth, getting so lost in the pleasure, I’m not concerned about how I look. Then his mouth clamps down on my nipple, his tongue swirling around it as he sucks back and grips my breast with his hand, sending yet other bolt, straight down to my already throbbing core.

“Oh god!” I cry out, my hips rocking uncontrollably as I come undone beneath him, feeling the twitch of his cock as he presses it against my thigh and drops his forehead on my chest.

We stay frozen like that for a moment as the waves of ecstasy that roll through me slowly subside and I cease to shudder. Slowly, he reaches up his hand and pulls my top back down then kisses me gently on my chest, then neck, then softly on my mouth, only lips, no tongue. Then, he pulls away.

“We don’t have to stop,” I pant, my voice coming out breathless after succumbing to his ability to rule my body once again.

He runs his fingers through his hair. “Oh yes, I do. I’m barely holding on as it is, because you’re so…” He blows out his breath. “You’re so fucking hot, Red. I can’t even…holy shit,” he mumbles, standing up from the couch and taking an uncomfortable walk to my back door where he steps out to my balcony and places his hands on his head and looks up to the sky.

Biting my lip, I watch him for a while and try to decide whether I should go out there or not, but I think better of it, because he’s obviously struggling with his decision to wait.

If only I could show as much restraint as he does, I think, as another little shudder of pleasure rolls over me. But I can’t. The things that man does to me…I’ve never experienced this level of attraction before. I want him. With every fibre of my being, I want that man. And, it seems, he wants me too, loves me even. My smile grows wider as I allow myself to enjoy that feeling. Jonathan Masters loves me. Out of all the women in the world he loves me and me alone.

He. Loves.
Me.
Holy shit.

While Jonathan stays outside to calm down, I pick up the top script and begin to read it, enjoying the simple back and forth and scene directions as my eyes skim through the story. However, I’m interrupted by another knock on my door, immediately followed by the sound of the door opening. My mother.

Quickly, I scramble to get up, making sure my top is now straight and my hair is smooth.

“Whose car is that out there?” she asks immediately, carrying some grocery bags to my kitchen as she looks around the house and spots the food. “Oh I see. Finally brought Brad the chef back with you. Well, I won’t be long. I just saw a few things on special at the supermarket and picked them up for you.” She places her hand around her mouth then stage whispers. “I didn’t think to get you condoms. Do you have enough or does your chef guy bring his own?”

“Mum,” I hiss, “Stop. You have to leave,” I say, pushing her toward the door. “It’s not Brad, it’s…”

“Jonathan Masters,” she exclaims, slipping from my grip as she moves over to a very surprised looking Jonathan. “Well, as I live and breathe. You know, I have seen every one of your films. You’re quite the heartthrob aren’t you?”

“Uh, hi… Mrs Haegan?” he starts, looking very uncomfortable, as he clears his throat and his eyes dart to me. I mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before moving to stand beside him to make the formal introductions.

“Jonathan, this is my mother, Madeline Haegan. Mum, Jonathan Masters. She was just leaving though.”

“No I wasn’t. I have time for a cuppa to chat with your new beau.”

“Oh god, mum, don’t call him that.”

But it doesn’t matter what I say. She slips her arm through his and guides him toward my dining room table, chattering about utter nonsense as he looks to me for help. I simply smile and shrug. There’s not much you can do when my mother sets her mind on something.

Moving into the kitchen, I switch my coffee machine on to make my mother something to drink as she and Jonathan take a seat at the table. “I can’t tell you how lovely it is to meet you in person,” she chatters. “I keep seeing you and my daughter together in the tabloids, and all the ladies at the day club keep asking me what’s going on. I keep saying, ‘Nothing. They’re just friends. My daughter is dating Brad the chef.’ What happened to Brad the chef, Sandra? You don’t tell me anything anymore.”

I place her mug in front of her and take a seat next to Jonathan to lend him my support, as few men have made it through one of my mother’s interrogations intact. “Mother,” I say in warning. “Don’t be so rude. Jonathan knows all about Brad, and Brad knows about Jonathan. But if you must know, I’m not seeing Brad anymore.”

She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I’ve been struggling to keep this hidden. If I had to explain it to your father, he’d have a stroke.”

“Explain what, mum? He knows about my friendship with Jonathan, doesn’t he? It’s been all over the papers.”

“Oh no, I’ve been hiding the entertainment section of the paper and flicking the channel every time ET comes on. I haven’t even been buying the Woman’s Weekly
or
New Idea. He’d be very upset with me over it all, but it’s the only way. He wouldn’t understand you being seen with two men. He’s very old fashioned. But, now that you’ve made your choice, I don’t need to hide it anymore.” She turns to Jonathan. “Tell me, Jonathan dear, what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

“Mum!” I yell.

“What? Someone has to ask him. Especially after, you know…the rock star,” she says behind her hand as if Jonathan can’t hear her.

“He knows about Marcus too, mum.”

“Oh, I see,” she smiles, lifting up her coffee and taking a sip as if she isn’t the most embarrassing person on this planet.

Seeing my distress, Jonathan reaches over and takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“I promise Mrs Haegen, my inten–”

“Madeline, please,” my mother interrupts. “Or Madz, I’m happy with Madz too.”

“No one calls you ‘Madz’,” I hiss at her.

“What? I can be cool…”

“Oh my god,” I say, placing my hand over my face as Jonathan gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

“As I was saying
Madz,
my intentions toward your daughter are nothing but honourable. I care only about her happiness,” he states and honestly, I swoon a little.

“And what about this reputation you have? I’ve read articles about you and your ‘escapades’. Can you guarantee that these things won’t happen now that you’re with my daughter?”

I go to say something but Jonathan beats me to it.

“I can guarantee that for as long as your daughter will allow me in her life that I won’t look at another woman. I can’t. Your daughter has my heart.”

His eyes meet mine and I struggle not to allow a massive goofy smile to take over my face. I have his heart. He loves me. I don’t know what to say in return. But of course, my mother has something to say.

“That all sounds very lovely, Jonathan. But you’re an actor. How do I know that that isn’t just a speech from one of your movies?” she counters.

“Well, you yourself said you’ve seen everything I’ve been in. Do you remember that speech?”

She narrows one of her eyes. “No. I don’t. So, you’ve got me there. Alright, I believe you. So I’ll put a good word in for you with Mr Haegan,” she says, pushing away from the table. “Just don’t hurt my daughter, Mr Masters, or I promise you, I will rain down a hell storm that will make that car through your window seem like a mere imposition.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, nodding at her in respect.

“Madz, please. We’re all friends here,” she smiles, then she gives me a wink and says that she’ll let herself out. As she leaves, I lean on my hands and slump in my chair.

“Oh my god. She’s so embarrassing.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“How can you say that? That was absolutely mortifying.”

“I can say that, because you haven’t met my mother yet.”

“Is she just as bad?” I ask, hopefully.

“No. She’s much, much worse.”

“I can’t wait,” I grimace, wondering if perhaps I should rethink this whole dating thing after all.

“Ok, so which script is your favourite?” Jonathan asks, holding them both up while I sit in front of him and try to decide. We’ve just spent the majority of the day pouring over them and weighing up which is the better choice.

“Well, I guess it depends on whether you want to grow as an actor by taking a risk and trying something new, or if you want to do something that’s a sure thing. Although for me, I’m not sure how comfortable I am with all the love scenes in your romantical option.”

He grins and lowers the scripts to his lap. “The other one has sex scenes in it as well. And based on the way it’s written, they’re going to be a lot more explicit compared to
Trials of Love and Failure
.”

Rolling my eyes, I reach out and pull the scripts from his lap, flicking through them both, not really reading them, but thinking about the reality of all of this. “Why do you have to do them at all?” I ask in a small voice, knowing that it’s an unreasonable expectation to have, but honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle knowing he’s locking lips with another woman on screen. I’m feeling jealous and possessive, and I don’t want to share him.

I consider the affect he has on my body when we’re clothed and the thought of him going through the motions with some other woman, even if it’s all an act, stick hard in my throat.

Taking the scripts from my hands, he leans forward and places them on the coffee table, before returning to me and taking my hands in his. “I have to, because it’s part of being the leading man. But if it puts your mind at rest, I have
never
slept with one of my co-stars or any other actresses for that matter.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head, “No. I have a fairly strict rule about workplace hook ups. They burn bridges and make things awkward, so I’ve always kept my work life and my private life separate.”

“This is hard for me, Jonathan,” I start, trying to put my feelings and apprehension into words.

“I know. It would probably worry me more if you weren’t a bit concerned.”

“Why?”

“Because it would mean you probably don’t care about me as much as I care about you. Because, Red, I’ve got to tell you, the thought of you with another man makes me feel crazy, like screaming rampage crazy, so I get it. We just have to work a way around it. How would you feel about being on set with me?”

“But that would mean going to the US with you,” I respond quickly.

“Do you really want to stay here while I’m gone for the good part of a year working on this movie?”

“Oh god. I didn’t even think about this part.” I bite my lip, running over all the different scenarios I can think of as to how our future turns out and honestly, I’m struggling to find a scenario where this works out for us.

“Hey, I can see you getting overwhelmed about this. But it doesn’t need to be as hard as you think. You fly around the world to attend different press activities and do interviews and whatnot right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Well, how about you talk to your editor about becoming a correspondent of sorts? That way, we could travel together and you can still do the job you love.”

“I suppose it’s something I could look in to. But I don’t know, Jonathan. Do you really think that’s going to work?”

“Why wouldn’t it? In case you haven’t noticed, we spend a hell of a lot of time around each other as it is. But if it’s too much for you, maybe you could fly in and out when it suits you and I’ll come back here whenever I get a break…I don’t know. But we can make it work for the both of us, surely.”

“OK,” I nod, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. “If we’re going to do this, we should do it properly. Logically, I can work from wherever the story is, so I’ll talk to my boss and Monday and we’ll work something out.”

A grin spreads across his face as I speak. “You won’t regret this,” he assures me, pulling me towards him and planting a happy kiss upon my lips.

And as he pulls back, I reach over and pick up the script I like best. “I hope I don’t, Jonathan. But I promise, I’ll keep an open mind,” I say as I place the thriller in his hands.

“This one?” he confirms.

To which I nod. “Arse shot and all,” I say, pushing that nagging feeling, twisting at my stomach as deep down as I can.

***

For the next week, things carry on in what could be considered our current state of normal. Jonathan and I see each other daily. We make out and dry hump like teenagers and part ways before anything gets too intense, only to spend the rest of the night texting or talking on the phone until all hours of the morning.

My editor was more than delighted when I told him why I wanted to go to the US. He felt that I’d be in the prime position to get to know the right people and talk to them about Voyeur and our commitment to realism. So my request to become a US correspondent was granted and our tickets were booked and our visas rushed through.

There’s now only a week to go until we head over there, and I’m a mixture of excitement and nerves as I wonder if I’m making the right choice.  As much as I’ve grown to care for Jonathan since I meet him, I still have that fear that this is all temporary and that the moment he’s had his fill of me, he’ll cast me aside.

My mother thinks I should follow my heart, but I’m really afraid that my heart is leading me astray.