Authors: Charlotte Phillips
Her friend Lucy’s eyebrows met in a frown and she quit making coffee to give Layla her full attention.
‘You’ve
what
?’
Layla glanced quickly around her and lowered her voice to an uncertain whisper.
‘I think I’ve just been hit on by Matt Stanton,’ she repeated.
Lucy squealed mad laughter.
‘You kill me! Course you have! And I’m marrying George Clooney this weekend. He’s popping over to pick me up in his private jet.’
There was a brief stab of indignant offense because she was clearly so undesirable that the idea of Matt Stanton giving her a second glance was a joke.
‘He’s staying in the Kerry Suite on the top floor,’ Layla said. ‘It’s all been hushed up because he’s having trouble with the press and he needed a last-minute bolthole to get away from all the fuss.’
Layla waited patiently until the laughter petered out and an expression of incredulity replaced it.
‘
The
Matt Stanton? The tennis playboy with the abs to die for? He’s staying here? Omigod I’m such a fan.’ She stared into space, her mind obviously working overtime. ‘I wonder if I can get a transfer from waiting tables into room service for the week. You know, in case he orders some food in, or champagne. Some of those celebs are like that you know, don’t like slumming it in the public restaurant with the rest of us.’
Oh for Pete’s sake.
‘He said he doesn’t usually drink champagne,’ Layla said. ‘He had mineral water and I had orange juice.’
‘You had a
drink
with him?’
Did she have to sound so amazed by that fact?
‘Yes. And he was going on about personal requests.’
Lucy rolled her eyes enviously at the ceiling.
‘I am soooo jealous! So when are you going to follow it up? You know…’ she winked at Layla ‘…make your next move?’
She spoke as if it was perfectly natural to throw yourself at a celebrity if he happened to wander into your path.
‘I’m not. Of course I’m not. It’s more than my job’s worth.’
Although actually her job wasn’t worth an awful lot right now, was it? She was busting a gut all hours and stuck in dismal rental accommodation for the foreseeable future. Disappointment suddenly seemed to be mixing with something else in her churning stomach. Something that felt an awful lot like regret.
‘It’s not more than mine’s worth,’ Lucy said, grinning.
‘So you wouldn’t have any scruples about having a fling with Matt Stanton then, even though he has the worst reputation ever for womanising. It would never lead to anything. He’s on the front of the tabloids with a different girl every week. Wouldn’t that bother you?’
Lucy shrugged and stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee mug.
‘Why would it? It would just be a quickie and it would actually be one to remember for once. Why make it such a big deal? Imagine having a fling with Matt Stanton.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘He’s absolutely gorgeous. And anyway everyone has ill-conceived flings in their past. One-night-stands that you wish you’d never done. Holiday romances that you shag on the beach and then never see again.’
‘I don’t,’ Layla said.
‘Yeah well, you’re not like the rest of us are you?’ She pointed at Layla with her teaspoon. ‘You’re…you know…
sensible
.’
She apparently tried to put a positive spin on that statement by adding a consoling smile, but it had no effect whatsoever.
When you got right down to it that was just another way of calling her
boring
. And she’d heard that once too often today.
‘Anyway,’ Lucy picked up her coffee mug and headed off towards the kitchens. ‘He was probably only messing about anyway. I mean, come on, he could have anyone he wanted, right?’
Tact was certainly not Lucy’s strong point. For some reason that parting comment grated hideously, the clear implication being that she had to be mistaken. Sensible, boring and now deluded that he could even have been interested in her at all. An inner defiance surfaced that might have been there all along, but more likely came from that final straw of a dismissive comment on the back of the crappy day from hell she’d had so far.
Five minutes later and she was stalking back down the top floor passageway at top speed, heart thundering loud enough in her ears to drown out the tired old voice in her head that had kept her on the straight and narrow all these years.
He opened the door of the suite on her first knock and she burst into the room, riding the wave of defiant impulsiveness and crappy-day-from-hellness. The feeling it gave her turned out to be surprisingly liberating. Suddenly, unfettered by her endless drive for respect and normality, anything felt possible. She caught the briefest glimpse of his eyes widening in surprise as before she could change her mind, she stood on her tiptoes, curled one arm around his neck and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth.
Too stunned to do anything but stand there, he froze until she pulled away, breathing hard. The look in her wide eyes was a mixture of shock and exhilaration.
It wasn’t often that women surprised him. He’d been faintly amused by her determination to give him the brush-off. It all added to the fun, right? He certainly hadn’t expected Miss Straight-Down-The-Line to do a u-turn all by herself, and had in fact been idling away the half hour since she’d left the suite considering his own next move. Yet apparently his charm had a presence of its own, continuing to work even when he wasn’t present. And now that she had made that u-turn, it would be rude not to respond, right?
Initially caught off-guard, he quickly reclaimed control of the situation. He looked down into the china blue eyes and took in her short, quick breaths and the expression on her face of nervous excitement. Really, she was so cute. He took his time to savour the triumph as he slid his hands into her far-too-tidy hair and angled her jaw perfectly with a stroke of his thumbs. Slowly now, his pace not hers, he kissed her.
The touch of his lips and the slide of his hand around her waist sent delicious sparks of heat flying down her spine. Rationality almost made a last-minute comeback. One little move and she could still undo this madness, she could have the status of the girl who’d knocked back Matt Stanton, maybe that could have its own special kudos. She could go right on back to the daily grind, the work-hard-and-get-nowhere treadmill that she’d been on for years.
Maybe on a normal day rationality might have stood a chance. But today second thoughts didn’t seem to have an awful lot going for them. After the day she’d had the thought of behaving badly and tasting life seemed like the best idea she’d had in years. Why not find out exactly what it was she was supposed to be missing out on. At least then she could argue her point with her nutty mother from a position of knowledge. And let’s face it, behaving well for the last twenty four years hadn’t really yielded any results, had it?
She shoved away the voice of reason and let herself melt against him. There was no grabbing, no fast moves, he was making it clear that every step of this was something to relish, not a crazy rush. Just one single connection, his lips against hers, slowly intensified by his hand as he slipped it into her hair to cradle the nape of her neck. Tingling heat spiralled through her body to pool in an intense flutter between her legs.
And all the while the neon sign flashed in her mind.
Matt Stanton is KISSING YOU! You have his calendar hanging downstairs in your locker!
He took her lower lip between his own and sucked gently, caressing her lips apart with his tongue. Her hands crept around his neck, wanting more of that delicious connection, and excitement rose inside her like a crowd of butterflies, masking reality, buffering out the inhibiting real world of choices and consequences.
Losing herself.
She let her hands slide up his chest and knitted fingers behind his neck. His shoulders were gorgeous. The
breadth
of them. The solidity. And the strength in his arms and hands, the latent power beneath his lightness of touch. You could feel protected from anything wrapped in arms like those.
This was the ultimate in shallow encounters and that in itself felt suddenly exciting. Work was forgotten. Responsibility was forgotten. This was about proving a point – to her mother, damn right, but more importantly to herself. Payback time and damn the consequences. This moment was hers, she could take what pleasure she wanted from it. No complications. That thought was somehow freeing and intoxicating and she tugged at his polo shirt, pulled it free from his jeans, wanting to explore. He slid a hand around her waist and tugged her further into the room kissing her as he went, stopping briefly to pull the shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. Free now to touch him, she slid curious hands slowly up his tanned chest to his huge shoulders. Not a scrap of fat laced his body. Desire burned hotly through her at the feel of taut skin sheathing hard muscle.
If she’d imagined this scene it wouldn’t have been like this. It would have been super-fast, detached. Wasn’t that the way these celebrity types worked? Get it on, get their rocks off, move on. In her mind it would have involved champagne, swigged perhaps from one of his tennis cups. Loud music. Hangers-on in the main suite while he took her in the bedroom. Alcohol aplenty.
Not water and orange juice and just the two of them.
His hands were inside her jacket, easing it off her shoulders. She shrugged her way out of it and he threw it aside, his fingers returning to find the buttons of her blouse and pull it away. He traced a soft line of stomach-melting kisses along her shoulder blade while his fingers slid around her back to her bra hook. Too late she remembered that it was a hideous old one in greying manky t-shirt fabric and she grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard to stop him seeing it. The second it was loose she snagged it away from him and threw it somewhere behind her. Shyness kicked briefly back in when he tugged at her skirt until it fell to her feet, and then delicious sensation was rushing her mind and crushing everything in its way. His hands had slipped back upwards to find her breasts, cupping them in his palms, lightly pinching the nipples between his fingers until she gasped against his mouth, and she felt his lips move against hers in a smile of satisfaction at her response. The sensation was so intense she felt weak with it, thought vaguely that her legs might give way, and then his hand eased beneath her and he picked her up as if she weighed nothing and walked her to the dark wood table across the room.
He set her down on the table top, and slowly eased her down until its cool glossy surface was hard beneath her back. She gazed up at the high ceiling, too shy to look him in the face as he trailed his fingers down slowly over her breasts, lower now across her stomach, and then finding the thin fabric of her panties, easing them down and away. Then his fingers were teasing between her legs, delicate fluttering strokes giving a hint of what was to follow. She felt his eyes on her, watching her laid bare in front of him, and when curiosity finally made her look she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his steady gaze as he greedily took in her every reaction to his touch. Fingertips played at her entrance, teasing her with a little pleasure until she squirmed against him, then he removed his hand and made her wait for more. Over and over he aroused her further, then stopped until she found herself writhing against his hand, clutching the hard sides of the table, wanting more, aching for him to fill that emptiness, unable to think of anything else.
He leaned forward to kiss her and she clutched at him hungrily, shocked by the way her desire crushed everything in its path. Yet still as he began to move slowly lower she reached out and tangled her hand in his hair, the intimacy of what he intended beyond what she’d expected, beyond what she’d done before.
‘Wait…’ she said.
He caught her hand in his, twining his fingers into hers, kissing her fingertips.
‘Trust me,’ he said gently, smiling encouragement at her.
A pause as she let his reassurance take hold, physical desire winning out over shyness, then she lay slowly back inch by inch, trying to relax, letting her eyes flutter shut.
She’d expected him to be skilled. For goodness sake, the man’s sexual prowess was documented on gossip websites and in the popular press. She hadn’t expected him to take such delight in her own satisfaction. When had she last had sex? Not since she’d moved to London two years ago, landing her first hotel job through a friend.
And when had she ever had sex like this? Shameless, no-holds-barred delicious out-of-character sex with someone who was so physically fit and gorgeous that she wanted to keep her eyes open all the time to check he was real? Never.
He traced tiny soft kisses down the hollow of her stomach, his tongue tracing her navel, and then she tensed in anticipation as she felt his breath, hot against the very core of her. She felt a single caressing stroke of his tongue parting her and then she was crying out at the ceiling as he sucked lightly at the sensitive nub beneath. The sensation drove out all thoughts of anything else and she reached down to sink shaky fingers into his hair. Holding her hard against his mouth he slid two fingers smoothly inside her, and in response to her soft moan added another, thrusting now with expert rhythm while she raised her hips from the table, desperate for every drop of pleasure he offered, inhibitions dissolving in such sweet ecstasy that she forgot where she was, forgot about shyness or anger and proving a point, forgot everything but that delicious connection with him.
As her breath slowly evened she became aware again of the hard surface beneath her, the room. As he softly kissed her inner thighs she leaned up on her elbows, pushed herself to sit up and tugged him up towards her, curling her arms around his neck. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her hungrily as she ran her hands over his drum-tight torso and down his body to find his erection, delighting in his sharp intake of breath when she ran her fingertips over its velvety length. She began to stroke, found a natural rhythm and kept going until he let out a gutteral moan and took her hand in his.
Moving urgently now, his hand flat against her stomach, he pulled her against him and turned her over, her feet sinking into the deep pile rug, her breasts pressed flat against the cold wood table top. A moment’s pause as he found a condom and then she felt him behind her, his breath against her back as he traced kisses down her spine. She heard herself moan with anticipation as he circled the core of her with his rigid erection and then in one smooth movement he thrust inside her to the hilt. She gasped as he took her, each stroke long and hard, filling her completely, his hand sliding beneath her to cup her breast, her nipple lightly pinched in his thumb and forefinger. As he pushed her over the edge of her climax her cries misted the gloss of the table top beneath her, and he gasped his own pleasure against her bare shoulder as he finally let himself lose control.
****
She lay against his shoulder, and the tension in her neck and back was pretty soon going to start making her jaw ache. At some point in the last hour they’d made it to the pair of sofas and now the rough silk of the crushed velvet lay against her bare skin. Her mind raced and her heart kept pace with it, because now that there was no delicious sex to distract her, all that was left to contemplate was the horror of what she’d done. Twenty-odd years ago, she could have been her mother.
And after a lifetime of contempt for
that
kind of behaviour had she really just gone and done this?
His fingers stroked her upper arm in a rhythmic motion. Gentle. Affectionate even. She hadn’t expected that to be a part of his post-shag repertoire, hadn’t expected him to want to, well,
lie
with
her
. She’d expected him to be up and dressed and sending her on her way with a signed photo the second he’d got what he wanted.
‘I’ll be right back,’ he said, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.
Then again, there was still time.
He gently disentangled her from his arms and disappeared across the suite in the direction of the bathroom. The second he was out of sight she scrambled to her feet. Her uniform lay strewn in haphazard blobs around the room. Her knickers had somehow made it an astonishing distance across the room to the window sill. His skill at lobbing clearly wasn’t limited to tennis balls. She dashed around the room, picking up her blouse and skirt and holding them bunched against her chest and she’d mercifully just climbed into her knickers when he emerged from the bathroom.
He stared at her lurking by the window with a bemused expression on his face. Her mind, clearly still attuned on some unconscious level to the utter gorgeousness of him, zeroed in on the fact that he was wearing petrol blue shorts and nothing else. His dark hair was dishevelled. She could see the eagle tattoo on the hard curve of his tanned bicep.
She cut her eyes away with a massive effort. She glanced around madly for her bra, couldn’t see it and made an attempt to put her shirt on without flashing him.
‘You’re going?’ he said, stating the obvious.
She jabbed buttons through holes on the blouse. As long as she looked vaguely decent she could tuck herself in and straighten herself out in the Ladies Room on the way down to the lobby. Every extra moment spent in here was a moment too long.
‘I’m getting back to work,’ she said.
‘There’s no need for that.’ A playful grin lit his face.
‘There’s every need,’ she said. ‘I could get the sack for this!’
She shoved her hands into the sleeves of her jacket and looked around the room for her shoes.
He crossed the room and touched her arm gently.
‘No one’s getting the sack,’ he said. ‘You’re with me. Any problems, I’ll have them smoothed out.’
She spotted one of her shoes underneath the opposite sofa and scrambled to her knees to hook it out.
‘You’re not living in the real world,’ she said, balancing on one leg to put it on and wobbling madly. She wondered briefly how long this weak-at-the-knees effect was likely to carry on. ‘Do you actually think your name counts for anything when it comes to my job? You might be able to career through life doing whatever the hell you please because you’ve got a little bit of kudos but your get-out-of-jail-free card won’t work on my bosses. Trust me.’
‘Girls aren’t normally this eager to run out on me,’ he said. ‘Did I do something wrong?’
‘Nope,’ she said, finding the other shoe near the fireplace and putting it on. She was dressed enough to make an exit now. ‘That would be me. It’s all been a HUGE mistake. So if you could maybe forget it ever happened, I’ll do the same.’
‘You want to forget that this…’ his eyes darted towards the glossy dining table and then met hers with a raise of the eyebrows that made her cheeks burn at what they’d just done there ‘…that
this
ever happened?’