Authors: Liz Matis
“Hey, these are really great.”
“Of course they are, but I don’t recall giving you permission to look through it.”
“Geez, you’d think I was reading your diary.” He calmly took a sip of coffee.
“Believe me you wouldn’t like what I wrote.”
“Wow, you’re a bitch in the morning.” He shoved a mug toward her. “Have some coffee, in fact, I’ll brew another pot.”
She was not being a bitch. First her show, then her vibrator, and now her sketchbook, was nothing sacred? “Coffee isn’t going to magically fix you spying on my designs.”
His cup stalled half way up to his mouth. “Spying? Sorry, I missed the top-secret stamp on the cover. Next time don’t use invisible ink.”
A smile began to curl at the edge of her mouth. When he said it like that it made her sound ridiculous, which made her realize she was being unfair to him. Victoria took a deep breath before she gave him the explanation she owed him. “Back in college, a classmate, a male classmate, stole my portfolio.”
“A lover?”
“If you can call any nineteen-year-old male a lover, then yes.”
“The college expelled him, right? Or were you so in love you let him get away with it?”
“Hell no. But the school didn’t believe me, said it was sour grapes over the relationship.”
“Where were your parents?”
She looked away. “They sided with the school.”
“Poor little rich girl.”
“I don’t need or want your pity.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
She could hear the frustration in his voice. Victoria glanced at the clock. They didn’t have time for this. “I’m going to head out first.” She gulped down the coffee.
“Why aren’t we leaving together?”
“I never know when the paparazzi will take a chance and stake out my place. They could be out there right now. So if I leave first—they go away—then you leave.”
“They are going to figure it out sooner or later.”
“Hopefully not until you’re long gone. I don’t need the drama. And as bad as the press will be now, when you leave me it will be a circus.”
“Who said I’m leaving?”
No one had to say it. She wasn’t naive or stupid. “Neil is coming back.”
“Yeah, to the show, but, oh I get it—this all has an expiration date.”
She fought back the tears so he wouldn’t see how much it hurt to ask, “Doesn’t it?”
Chapter 26
W
as she bloody serious? “Look, cupcake.” He thought about his plans for LA, about eventually going back to Australia. He still had a house there and, of course, his family. He tried to picture her there. And he couldn’t. She was everything he’d pictured a stereotypical snobbish high society New Yorker to be. Except she was a creative genius—in and out of bed. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he lied to protect himself.
It seemed to be all he thought about—that is when they weren’t making love. A woman had never taken up so much of his brain space. His head hurt, but not as bad as his heart was beginning to ache.
“Exactly,” she said.
“Maybe, we should start thinking about it—talking about it.” He saw the glimmer of hope in her eyes and he realized she was as scared as he was, so he wasn’t surprised when Victoria looked away.
“Like pillow talk?”
Russ put the cup on the counter. “Pillow talk. I like that. Could use a little break in between making you scream in pleasure. You’re a task master.” He smiled and smacked her on the bum as he passed to finish getting dressed. “You better get going or you’re going to make me late.”
As she headed for the door he heard her mumble something about making him pay. He sincerely hoped she expected payment in sexual favors.
***
“Welcome to Design Intervention where we intervene on designs gone wrong. I’m Victoria Bryce and this is our saucy Aussie, Russ Rowland, filling in for Neil Bay.”
“Saucy Aussie? I like it.”
“Thought you would. Today we are in the basement family room of the Hahn’s.”
“Family room? Has someone checked the closets for a serial killer?”
“True Russ, it’s creepy down here. So the theme for this makeover is ‘Let there be Light.’”
“As if you already don’t have a God complex.”
“Goddess.”
“See folks?”
They made it though the introduction without killing each other. The paint reveal was next and he hoped he hated the color so he could start a fight with her. Anything was better than her cold and heartless design diva act. Victoria had him so riled and her cool attitude only grated on him. He itched to break her, to show emotion even if it was negative. He was good at it too. She needed him and if he couldn’t get her to admit it then he would damn well have fun trying to.
With the load out of the room complete and the cameras and lights set up for the upcoming segment, Stephen yelled, “Action.”
“Are you ready, Russ?” With a pop she opened the lid of the can and revealed a beautiful shade of yellow.
Damn, he loved the color. “Lemon? Really?” he questioned.
“I think you’re color blind. It’s Sunset Yellow.”
“I hope our homeowners are the ones who are blind.”
“I chose this color so it will reflect the light.”
“If you say so.”
“Trust me.”
With a design plan sure, he could trust her. With his heart? Never. Victoria was too volatile to begin with, changing moods like a three-year-old pageant princess. But perhaps that could be explained away as merely having an artist’s temperamental nature. Victoria dipped a paintbrush in the can then swept her signature V over the wall reminding him of the same V she drew on his body in chocolate, branding him with her tongue as she licked it off.
A blush bloomed on her face and he realized she was remembering it too. She couldn’t be having too many regrets about their relationship and perhaps even regretting the fight she started.
He wanted to make up right then and there. To hell with another episode of Design Intervention—they’d make a porn movie together. Starting with some mutual finger painting. A bead of sweat broke out on his forehead. They’d be an Internet sensation—put Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee to shame.
If Stephen didn’t yell cut soon Russ just might play out the fantasy for real. Then everyone would know and she couldn’t hide behind the show or her fake diva act any longer.
“Cut.”
About time
.
“Russ, what’s up—you forget your lines?”
Victoria looked up with mischief in her eyes, “Yeah, Russ, did you?”
Her sweet little bottom was going to pay for that tonight. Damn he needed to go and splash some cold water on his face and down his pants. Perhaps he could persuade her into the nearest closet or sneak upstairs to one of the bathrooms. “Sorry mate,” he said to Stephen.
After they wrapped the segment Russ made a break for the outside. Fresh air would clear his head but as he left the air conditioning, he hit a wall of humidity.
The crowd gathering outside the police barriers didn’t seem to mind. He smiled and waved back to the fans. Several of the women called him over to sign autographs. How did they know who he was? Did they recognize him from his ‘other’ show? But when one of them handed him today’s paper he knew why. Foreign Import Russ Rowland invades Design Intervention, read the headline on Page Six. The photo, his headshot, and not, thank God, a photo of him stripping.
He signed his name and posed for a couple of pictures. When he turned around Victoria was glaring at him. “No worries, luv,” he said as he made his way over to her.
“I have lots of worries.” Victoria waved a roll of paper in the air. “But right now I’m worried about the work getting done.”
Russ stepped closer. “If you recall, I have no problem putting in overtime.” Referring to their first time in the Johnson’s living room.
Her face was going to need more make-up if her cheeks turned any redder. “Good, there will be lots of OT.” Then she whispered, “What room will it be tonight?”
Oh man he loved how naughty she was. Such an actress—no one would ever suspect what she just asked him. “I don’t know if I can hold out that long,” he breathed.
“Upstairs master bathroom—after Stephen calls cut, wait five minutes—I’ll be ready.”
She walked away to prepare for the next scene in which she would instruct him on the builds for the makeover. Victoria spread out the plans on his worktable like nothing had happened. Russ stood rooted to his spot imagining bending her over the table and taking her from behind. How the hell did she expect him to get through this next segment? Though on TV it would only be two minutes of airtime, it would take at least a half hour of filming time. Unless by some miracle they got all done in one take.
Her petite frame appeared even smaller next to all the tools in Wood Working World. She was so out of her element. One more thing added to the list of why they didn’t suit. But as he approached his mark, the scent of her, the way his body instinctively reacted to hers, the way they made each other smile, magically made them perfect for each other.
“And action,” called Stephen.
Russ almost kissed Victoria.
Stephen wanted action; he’d show him some action
. But then Victoria started talking and Russ surprisingly fell smoothly in step with the dialogue.
“Cut and wrap,” called Stephen three takes later. “Think that’s a record.”
Victoria informed the director that she needed to redo her make-up. Russ struggled to come up with his own excuse to disappear. Well, he had five minutes to think of one. Damn he wasn’t wearing a watch—should he count three hundred seconds? Damn it, he wasn’t going to wait. He blurted out the first excuse that came to his mind. “I have to re-do my make-up too.”
Russ winced as he headed inside.
***
Russ swung open the door then locked it and tested the handle. “Hope I’m not late.”
“No, in fact you’re sixty seconds early.” Victoria lifted her skirt and bent over the sink revealing her sweetly shaped ass then turned on the water.
Had she read his mind?
“Hopefully, that will drown out any noise.”
His dick felt like living marble. Rock solid but with a mind of its own. If she hoped to keep the noise down she’d better have a muzzle around because he was about to show her that she couldn’t live without him inside her.
She looked at him expectantly and he smiled. He walked over, then pulled his zipper down with one hand and with the other he rubbed her ass.
She wiggled and his cock nearly sprung itself from the confines of his jeans.
“We don’t have much time.”
Russ smacked her ass.
“Ow!”
“That’s for teasing me earlier. And this,” he smacked her again but this time she whimpered, “is for thinking you could get rid of me.” The bright red mark had his cock throbbing for her wetness.
“I’m sorry about this morning.” She pressed her bum up against him.
Russ drew in a sharp breath and spanked her again. “You want it bad, don’t you, cupcake?
“Yes, yes, please. I’m so sorry.”
“Is this your way of making it up to me?” He slipped a finger inside her.
“Russ, oh God, please don’t tease me.”
“Your mine Victoria, as long as I want you. Your mine. To tease. To take. Anywhere. Any time.” His finger pulled out and she cried out. “Look in the mirror and tell me.”
Her gaze meant his. “I love when you talk dirty to me.”
“Yeah, what else do you love?”
“When your cock is buried deep inside me.”
Her reflection pleaded and her bum wiggled against him but he wouldn’t give into her heat, not until he heard the words.
“Then say it, Victoria. Tell me your mine.”
“I’m yours.”
With her admission he pushed into her softness and he held onto her hips so she couldn’t move because he was about to come without one single stroke. He took two deep breaths to steady himself. “Keep looking, Victoria. I want to watch while I make you fall apart.”
He pounded into her because it was what they both needed; to expend this animal lust they had for one another. He claimed her as if he was some primitive man from the Stone Age.
Russ loved the way she struggled to bite back the scream from escaping her lips but failed miserably. Everyone in the house was going to hear—hell everyone on the block. Russ was never so turned on in his life.
Her eyes began to close. “Look at me,” he ordered. And she did as she was told. He reached down and put his finger on her clit and rubbed. She came violently, causing his climax to pour into her like the faucet before them. He kept staring at the reflection in the mirror even as her orgasm settled into little aftershocks; he stayed inside her not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment. He’d never get enough of her; he realized that now. She did more than brand him; she became a part of him, the blood in his veins and the oxygen he breathed. He told her she was his as long as he wanted her. If she knew that it would be forever she might not have agreed.