He kissed her, his lips hungry and possessive over hers. She truly drove him mad. He couldn’t remember any woman ever arousing him so intensely, so frenetically.
He continued to ravage her mouth, her own lips devouring him back, as he slowly began to piston his hips. Moving in and out of her in a deliberate, steady motion, totally at odds with the wildness of their kiss.
But soon their lovemaking took on the same frantic need of their kiss, as if they were caught in a flash flood of their own lust. Charlie thrust deep into her, and she tugged and pulled at him, her nails biting his skin, urging him to take her even harder.
Yet somehow he kept his own release at bay until Ava cried out, her body stiffening under his, her vagina pulsating, her breath coming in broken, fragmented gasps.
He shouted out, following her into mindless, wondrous oblivion.
Careful not to crush her, he collapsed half on her, half beside her, his arm and legs still draped over her warm, flushed body.
He studied her profile as she lay there, her breathing slowly evening out, a slight curve to her full lips. She was so different from what he would have imagined.
She turned her head and smiled at him, the gesture so sweet, so utterly adorable, his heart constricted painfully in his chest.
Still recovering from wild sex, he told himself to explain the sensation, even though he knew he was lying. But if he was smart, he would continue to lie to himself. Otherwise it would be far too easy to feel far too much.
Yes, she might look like a lovely, down-to-earth, girl-next-door curled up beside him right now, but she was a world famous supermodel—and the supermodel didn’t end up with the mailroom guy.
But you aren’t a mailroom guy, he reminded himself. Not really. And Ava just might date a photographer. That was if he could actually get his career going.
“That was wonderful,” she said, her voice low and soft and as sweet as her expression.
Charlie smiled back at her. “Yes, it was. Much more than wonderful. Amazing. Stupendous.”
She giggled, although the action was cut off by a yawn. She blinked, her dark eyes growing heavy. She even managed to make exhaustion look delightful. Of course he was part of why she was exhausted—and that was a big turn on.
He ignored his cock, which stirred against his thigh. She was too tired for another round. In truth, he was too, but apparently some parts of his anatomy didn’t quite get that.
She cuddled up against him, her skin smooth and warm, and soon he was dozing off too. His last thought was that he’d just had the most amazing day of his whole life.
Chapter Eight
“C
harlie, I need to talk to you.”
Charlie struggled to keep his expression blank as he turned to see Eugene in his office doorway. Not the greeting he’d like on a good day. And so far, this had not been a good day.
But somehow he mustered up the control to simply nod and follow his boss into his small square office.
Eugene gestured to the metal folding chair on the opposite side of his desk. The one where Elton had been sitting yesterday evening. Had that been only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago now.
Eugene took a seat in his squeaky computer chair.
Charlie sat down, praying this wouldn’t take long. He didn’t think he could handle any speeches about the importance of the mailroom that ultimately made no sense whatsoever.
“So you were down here last night with Ava Wells.”
Charlie met his boss’s gaze, managing to keep his expression blank, even though he was actually stunned by Eugene’s comment.
“Yes,” Charlie answered, wondering why it mattered. He also hoped Eugene didn’t question him about why she’d been down in the mailroom with him. He wouldn’t tell Eugene he’d been sneaking the woman out of the building so she wouldn’t get busted for binge eating snack cakes. That was a fact Ava wouldn’t want anyone to know and Charlie planned to respect her wishes.
“Why?”
Charlie gritted his teeth. Of course, he would ask.
“She . . . she’s doing a series of fashion ads where a mailroom is the setting—and, um, she wanted to see a real mailroom.”
Yeah, that was a believable story. Not.
Eugene studied him for a moment with those unnaturally blue eyes of his; then he nodded. “Well, that was nice of you.”
Charlie nodded too, deciding that saying nothing more would be the best way get out of here.
He was wrong.
“But we cannot have random people down here. We would not be welcome to attend a board meeting in Ms. White’s office, and the same goes for our mailroom.”
Charlie frowned slightly, trying to decide how that analogy made any sense. The two were not in the least bit comparable, but he supposed it shouldn’t surprise him. More of this crazy “the mailroom is so important” rhetoric.
As if reading Charlie’s mind, Eugene added, “I believe I have mentioned that the mailroom does a very important job and—”
Charlie pulled in a deep breath, then rose. He really couldn’t handle this talk yet again—not this morning.
“I get it, Eugene. No more models in the mailroom.”
Which Charlie was pretty sure wasn’t going to be a problem if this morning was any indication.
“I’ll get to our very important work now,” he added, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
He started to leave the office, but Eugene’s low, stern voice stopped him.
“You don’t even begin to understand what goes on down here.”
Charlie turned back to the strange man with his eerie eyes. “We sort mail. We deliver mail. It’s pretty simple, Eugene.”
Eugene regarded him, his expression unreadable. Those eyes of his looking even more eerie than before. Finally when Charlie would have just walked out, he spoke.
“We do far more than that, and when I know you are ready, I will explain that to you. But you are going to have to believe me when I say we are far more than just a mailroom. And I cannot have unapproved—” he hesitated as if struggling with the right word—“individuals down here.”
Charlie frowned at the man, wanting to continue this disagreement. To tell him he was being ridiculous and grandiose and frankly a little delusional, but he caught himself. He was frustrated and itching to take it out on someone. But getting fired now wasn’t going to help his problems.
So instead Charlie nodded. “I understand.”
“No,” Eugene said, his voice not just stern but now almost ominous. “But you will understand.”
Charlie nodded again and left the office.
He had no idea what Eugene was talking about, and honestly he didn’t care. Not when he was still trying to process the events of earlier this morning. Or rather the
event
.
He’d woken up, and Ava had been gone. No waking him to say good-bye, no note, no nothing. She’d just vanished as if she’d never been there at all.
And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Despite their amazing sex, which he was confident had been as amazing for her as it had been for him, she wasn’t going to trade in her model or actor or rock star boyfriends for a lowly mailroom clerk.
He opened his locker and stared at his mailroom smock, the royal blue badge of how far from Ava Wells’s world he was. The ugly coat that might as well be a serf’s rags in comparison to her royal finery.
He sighed, pulling out the coat. As he shrugged into the dreaded garment, he made up his mind that he had to make a move soon. He needed to get his portfolio in front of someone.
You are a photographer and Ava will date a photographer.
He’d get his portfolio ready tonight and put it in front of either Finola White or Carrie Hall by tomorrow. He shut his locker with a determined slam, but then he hesitated. No one would probably even look at his work. They certainly wouldn’t take him seriously. He couldn’t rush this. He’d just started delivering mail to the fifteenth floor. Soon he would become familiar with some of the
HOT!
team and then they would be more willing to look at his work. It was the best plan.
He just didn’t want Ava to forget about him. If she was even interested, period.
Ava stared at herself in the large mirror as the stylist yanked and pulled her hair, teasing it into a style quite reminiscent of what her hair had looked like when she’d woken up in Charlie’s bed that morning.
Ava closed her eyes, her head jerking with every tug of the comb, but she didn’t imagine the tugs being caused by the plastic teeth of a comb. Instead she remembered Charlie’s fingers tangled in her hair, his mouth on hers, his erection filling her, making her feel more complete than she had in . . . forever.
Every moment with him had made her feel more alive than she had in years. And the last image of him, asleep, stretched on his stomach, his body bare, his skin golden, would stay with her forever. Even now, amid the bustle of models getting ready for the shoot, her body reacted to that final image.
Final image.
Leaving this morning was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she knew she had to go. And she had to go without saying good-bye. If she woke him and saw his crooked, adorable smile, those beautiful, golden-green eyes filled with kindness and warmth and desire, she never could walk away.
And she had to walk away. Any contact with her put him in danger. He wasn’t a small rebellion like gorging herself on Devil Dogs or Ho Hos. Yes, he’d been a forbidden treat, but not one she could repeat.
Finola wouldn’t allow it and Ava was frightened of how she would put a stop to the relationship. Finola had done horrible, awful things in the past. Ava knew she would do so again without hesitation.
As if thinking about her made her appear, Ava heard Finola’s voice coming in her direction, insulting each model and stylist as she made her way toward Ava.
“Gino, that makeup is atrocious. She’s modeling high fashion, not straddling a motorcycle for a calendar.”
“Oh dear, dear God, please tell me she’s not wearing that dress. It makes her look like a poorly made float in some hometown parade.”
“Bette, it’s hair. Style it, don’t turn it into a nest for returning swallows.”
Ava didn’t have to open her eyes to know Finola had reached her. But after a slow breath through her nose, she did open them.
Finola stood beside her chair, with Tristan, her toady, right behind her. They both regarded Ava in the mirror. Ava stared back, trying not to flinch as she met Finola’s pale grey eyes—eyes that saw everything. But Ava remained stoic, keeping all emotion off her face. That ability was perhaps the one advantage her years in front of the camera had given her. She could control her expressions.
In her head she repeated that Finola couldn’t know anything.
She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. She can’t know.
Yet her little chant didn’t convince her. Finola White wasn’t just a controlling, powerful boss. She managed to know everything, whether you were good or bad, naughty or nice, sleeping with a mailroom clerk. She was like an evil Santa Claus, but instead of elves working for her, she had minions from Hell.
Ava’s gaze flicked to Tristan. And Tristan was not to be trusted any more than Finola.
Ava returned her look to her boss, feeling herself start to panic, guilt wracking her. How could she drag a wonderful, nice guy like Charlie Bowen into her awful world? Even for a night.
“It’s good to see you are back into work mode, Ava.”
Ava blinked. Finola never gave compliments, unless it was to herself.
“The hair is perfect,” she said to Fritz, Ava’s stylist. Fritz beamed, brushing his own styled, shag cut away from his face.
“And the makeup is exactly how I imagined this layout looking. Mussed. Sexy. Sultry.”
Finola turned back to study Ava in the mirror, those almost inhuman—well, they were inhuman actually—eyes roaming over Ava.
“Yes,” Finola said with a smile, and Ava’s muscles loosened as relief filled her. “I’m pleased.”
Then Finola continued, those pale eyes locked with Ava’s again. “You look just like you’ve crawled right out of bed after a delicious night of pleasure with your lover.”
Ava’s breath hitched, and she prayed she’d caught her reaction before her evil boss saw any signs of surprise.
Then, to her own amazement, she managed a smile too. “Well, clearly Fritz is a magician. God knows I can’t recall what it’s like to look like that.”
She laughed and Fritz joined her.
Finola smiled too, but Ava couldn’t decipher whether her boss really believed her comment. Tristan’s expression didn’t change, but then the beautiful demon never sported any expression other than elegant ennui.
But to her relief, Finola and Tristan left to go inspect the photo set. And to her dismay, she knew she could never see Charlie again.