I couldn’t help grinning at her, and before you roll your eyes, I know that was a really dumb thing to do.
Clare
I was furious. You know, the whole red mist, ready to do some violence sort of fury.
I stormed into that hotel room, prepared to give Mr. Oops There’s Something Important I Forget To Tell My Girlfriend a piece of my mind. A really sharp piece.
But then he kissed me. And I almost let him get away with it. But just because my heart was thundering like a 300 pound sprinter going over the hurdles, and my blood was about to superheat to the temperature of a solar flare, I wasn’t letting him get away with that.
I pushed him off.
And he grinned at me! That was so out of order.
“I am seriously pissed here, Miles! Don’t you dare grin at me or you’ll be needing the services of a Hollywood dentist after all.”
“Okay, okay! I get it. But, shit, Clare, you’re so hot when you’re angry.”
I gaped at him. I was standing there yelling at him and that was turning him on?
I was so screwed.
“Be careful what you say next, Stephens! You do realize my vagina has an on—off switch linked directly to whatever comes out of your mouth?”
He gave a dark laugh.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup, pretty sure.”
“Are we talking about just the words that come out of my mouth?” he asked, flicking his tongue over his lips as I imagined it licking between my breasts and toward my stomach. Or a bit lower.
“Um…”
“Nothing else of interest?”
“Um…”
He took a pace toward me so his body was flush against mine. He leaned down very slowly, pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and placed his lips against my ear.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
He tugged my earlobe with his teeth and kissed his way down my throat to my collar bone. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he walked me back toward the bed.
“This is coming off,” he said, tugging at the hem of my sweater. “And this definitely has no business covering up those fan-fucking-tastic tits,” he continued, peeling off my t-shirt. He unhooked my bra with one hand, and started massaging my breasts with the other, pinching the nipples lightly.
He unzipped my jeans and pulled them down slowly. I lay on the bed, splayed out like a baby whale while he stood, fully clothed, gazing down.
Moving lazily, he removed his t-shirt and jeans with teasing slowness, and slid down until he was level with my side. He kissed my lips softly, then scooted further down the bed and kissed his way from my knees back up to the top of my thighs.
“Still mad at me?” he said.
“Um…”
“Still want to tell me off?” he murmured against my skin.
“Um…”
“Go on, Clare,” and he bit my neck. “Tell me how bad I’ve been.”
“Um…”
Yeah, I’m not sure who won that conversation.
Deep Throat
Clare
Miles was yelling at me – and I was yelling back.
“You were going to sleep with Nazzer! He’s a complete tosser!”
“Yeah, but he’s your friend!”
“That’s how I know what I’m talking about!”
His eyes flashed and he was breathing fast, his hard chest rising and falling rapidly.
How dare he look so damn hot when he was shouting at me.
I was considering storming off, but it’s hard to make a dramatic exit when you’re sitting naked in a Jacuzzi, let alone flounce. I was not a flouncer – it would have just looked wrong.
“Yeah, well I didn’t sleep with him,” I pointed out, trying to sound calmer.
Telling Miles about that night in the pub with Paul and Nazzer was not the smartest thing I’d ever done, but honestly, I thought he’d laugh.
Instead, I’d got a very different reaction.
“It’s not like you and me were even talking to each other,” I said, “let alone, um, dating.”
“Yeah, but Nazzer! Couldn’t you do better than that?”
“Actually, no!” I snarled, my cheeks flushing, “And if you have to know, he turned me down for a Thunderbirds marathon.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Miles said, quietly. Then he looked up. “He what? A Thunderbirds marathon… what channel was it on?”
I felt my eyes cross with anger and humiliation, then I saw the suppressed smile that lifted the corner of his mouth slightly.
“You smug bastard!” I shouted. “I totally believed you then!”
He shrugged and sighed.
“I’m still pissed off that you thought of sleeping with Nazzer.”
“And I’m still pissed off that I had to watch you bump uglies with Lilia for two whole days of filming!” I fired back. “Let alone knowing you were doing it for real when the cameras stopped rolling.”
He winced and looked away.
“Sorry,” I said, quietly. “That was below the belt. I mean… um… sorry.”
He still couldn’t look at me, and I felt bad for making him feel that way. I wasn’t being fair.
“Hey,” I said softly, shifting across so I could lean against him. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. “Can we just not do this. I hate arguing with you.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks.”
“Um… but don’t get upset. I want to ask about the sequel. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He rolled his eyes.
“I only found out about it last night,” he grumbled. “Hyde came up to me at the premiere and said we should talk about the sequel when I got back to LA. It was the first I’d heard of it. I mean, Laura Dorien hasn’t even written a second book. But, I guess because this movie is making money for the studio, it’s a no-brainer decision.”
“So you’re going to do it.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I felt hopeful but a little confused.
“Well, Melody is going to check my contract to see if I’m locked into it, but even if I’m not, she said I should think about it anyway.”
“Oh.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me closer.
“What do you think? Do you think I should do it?”
“Oh, no way, Miles! You are not putting the responsibility of that decision in my lap!”
He looked annoyed. “I’m not trying to! I’m just asking my girlfriend what she thinks about something that will affect us both.”
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled. “I can’t get used to that – you know, discussing things – couples stuff.”
I sucked on my teeth as I thought about it, and Miles smiled when I blew out a long breath that made me sound like a tired carthorse.
“Melody thinks you should?”
“She says I shouldn’t dismiss it just because of…”
“Because of Lilia?”
“Well, yeah.”
“She’s right.”
“She is?”
“Look, it’s only six weeks of filming. You’re a professional – you can do that.”
He frowned. “Yeah, but there’s still months of promotional stuff that we’d have to do together. I might not be able to come back to London for a while.”
“Maybe you could make a film in Britain?”
He frowned.
“That would be great, but the UK film industry needs a life-support system right now.”
“Well, you never know. It could happen. It would be cool if you used your own voice for a change – not always having to do an American accent.”
He frowned again. “I’m so used to that now, I don’t know if it would make it harder or easier. Doing an accent, it gives me something to hide behind, you know?”
I felt sad that he still felt like that. But that was probably what made him such a brilliant actor, feeling everything so much, living with
out that extra layer of skin that most people needed.
“Well, it would be brilliant if you did film in the UK. Hey! Maybe they’d shoot a period piece. You could wear breeches. Your arse would look so hot in breeches.”
Even the word was turning me on… bree—ches. Yes, and a loose white shirt – a wet shirt – clinging to every muscle. Look, I know that’s been done, but come on! You have to admit that’s hot!
He laughed, but I was serious.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I’ll have to see her – Lilia – on Monday when we do the New York junket. I wish you could be there for that.”
“I know. Me, too.”
His face suddenly brightened.
“So, come with me! You don’t have to be back at university for a few days yet. Come with me.”
“What, fly all the way to New York just for a weekend?!”
“Sure!”
“Get you, Mr. Jet Set!” I paused. “Are you serious?”
“One hundred per cent. I’ll book your ticket now if you say yes.”
Wow! He was just sooooo smooth. When did that happen?
“Well,” I said, slowly, “I could try out my kung fu moves on Lilia.”
He laughed, delightedly.
“You haven’t got any kung fu moves!”
“I so have! I used to love Bruce Lee films, and Jackie Chan.”
He grabbed my wrists as he pulled me onto his lap.
“Go on then. Show me some moves.”
So I did. Just not the ones he was expecting.
We finally fell into bed to sleep a couple of hours after midnight.
The Jacuzzi sex had been amazing – a bit weird, sort of squelchy, and we made a hell of a mess on the bathroom floor – but amazing. And for future reference, reverse cowgirl is definitely the way to go.
We both felt guilty about that – the spilled water, not the amazing sex, obviously – so we’d tried to mop it up with towels. We got through a lot of towels.
But hey, this was the Dorchester – they’d probably had a lot worse things happen. Didn’t one of those rock bands bring back a live goat? Or maybe I was imagining it, which is pretty scary in itself.
And have you any idea how much I loved room service?! Food, drinks, whatever and whenever you wanted it. I felt sort of awkward having people jumping every time I snapped my fingers, metaphorically speaking, but Miles said he wasn’t going to feel guilty about it anymore, because the suits from the studio once had him working 64 days with only one short break, plus he’d worked Christmas Eve (which I didn’t like to remember), and all the days between Christmas and New Year. So if we wanted toast at midnight, we should just go ahead and order it. But hold the caviar. Neither of us liked that bizarre stuff.
For the last half hour, we’d been arguing – well, having a lively discussion – about what to do for New Year’s Eve. Miles said he wanted us to stay in and, you know, do couples stuff. It wasn’t that I was averse to his suggestion, but I had promised Nazzer and Paul that we’d go out, and Miles hadn’t seen his friends since April.
He was also irritated that I’d been Googling his name to see what the gossip sites were saying about him.
“I don’t know why you read that rubbish,” he complained. “You know they make it up when they don’t have a clue. You’ll just turn into a moody cow if you see something about Lilia.”
Which was true. But it didn’t stop me. I wasn’t deliberately being a masochist, but I thought it was a good idea to see what lies the harlot was putting about – when she wasn’t putting herself about. You know, forewarned is forearmed.
What I wasn’t expecting to see was a clip from one of yesterday’s interviews.
“He’s single, ladies! In an exclusive interview with rising star Miles Stephens, I can exclusively reveal that the shy hunk is not dating at all. In an intimate one-on-one, Miles said, ‘I’m not even dating anyone at the moment. Anyone.’ Hasta la vista, Lilia! So line up ladies, because this man is open for business. And I’m first in the queue. This is Carmel McConnell reporting…”
“What the hell is this, Miles?” I yelped, spinning the laptop around to face him.
He looked at the screen and frowned.
“That’s from one of the interviews I did yesterday. What about it?”
“What about it? You lied! You flat out lied! You said you weren’t – and I quote – that you ‘weren’t dating anyone’. How is that supposed to make me feel?”
“I don’t know, Clare,” he snapped, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Protected? Safe? Why the hell would I want to give some stranger the details of our private life to broadcast wherever the fuck she likes?”
Oh.
“You know that isn’t real,” he said, pointing at the laptop. Then he gestured between us, “This… this here is what’s real.”
I felt like such an idiot.
“Sorry. I am – I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to be all paranoid, but you’re going back to LA soon and I don’t know when I’ll see you again. It freaks me out a bit.”
His head hung forward. “I know. I get it. But you have to trust me. I don’t go around dipping my wick into anything that has a pulse. I’m not like that – I never have been. Jeez, you know that.”
“I do know. I’m just being stupid.”
He pulled me into a hug.
“Promise me you won’t believe any of that shit,” he mumbled into my hair.
I blew out a long breath. “Okay.”
His grip tightened.
“Do we really have to go out tonight?”
“Yeah, you lightweight – it’s New Year’s Eve. Besides, Nazzer and Paul will be waiting.”
An hour later and halfway across London, I was regretting insisting that we meet up with the tosser twins, because the first thing Paul said when he saw Miles holding my hand was,
“Huh, so you’ve tapped that now, you dog!”
I thought Miles was going to go nuclear, and actually I kind of wanted him to, but he just acted cool.
“Yeah, well, you lost your chance, dickhead,” he said, his voice quiet and even. “She’s mine, so keep your fucking hands to yourself or I’ll break them off. That goes double for you, Naz.”
Seeing Miles getting all protective and territorial had a strange effect on me. Well, obviously it was a huge turn on, but it made me feel delicate and girly, like I should take up embroidery or flower arranging. And it made me feel loved. No guy had ever made me feel that way before.
The look on their faces was priceless. Paul actually seemed slightly scared. Nazzer looked like he was having trouble understanding the English language.
“Um, happy New Year?” I said.
It was tense and uncomfortable for a few minutes, but then we started talking like old times. Almost like old times, because that night Miles kept a hold of my hand the whole time, his thumb rubbing small circles over my palm.
Miles
I hadn’t seen Nazzer and Paul in nearly eight months, but my first reaction to Paul’s dumbass comment was to beat the living shit out of him for talking about Clare like that.
She must have felt me tense up, because she was clinging onto my arm with both hands.
After she pulled me onto the seat next to her and we got some drinks in, I started to calm down a bit. I don’t even know why I was surprised that Paul was such a prick – I’d always known his brains were in his backside, especially when it came to women.
Not that I thought of myself as an expert or anything – hell, no! But when a guy’s best chat-up line is, “Oi, love, do you want to feel my shirt? ‘Cause it’s boyfriend material,” you see the problem.
Yep, he actually said that. Of course, he got his ass handed to him because the woman’s reply was something like, “What? Go with you while there are dogs in the street?”
I guess I was just feeling sort of protective, and things that I would have laughed at a year ago, now just irritated me.
Despite that initial hiccup, it
was good to see the guys. They didn’t give a shit about what I’d been doing, except to ask if Lilia was as hot in bed as she looked.
Clare answered that one for me.
“What difference would it make to you? You couldn’t even find your dick with a map.”
I was still slightly taken aback when Nazzer told me that they’d found a replacement sax player for the trio. I’ve got to say that stung. I don’t know why really, it wasn’t like I was expecting them to wait around – they had lives, too. I suppose it was just the reality of knowing that the old part of my life was over.
Of course, they totally loved it when this woman came over to get my autograph. They asked if she wanted me to sign her tits. I told them to shut the fuck up and had to buy her a drink to apologize.
As it happened, she did want me to sign her tits, but Clare vetoed that one.
In fact, I thought she was going to toss the woman out onto the street by her hair extensions, especially when she said her vajazzle was inspired by the angel imagery from Dazzled.
We all laughed – well, I cringed – then Paul took me to one side and asked what a vajazzle was. I told him to Google it, but he probably thought that Googling was something porn actors did. And now I think about it, he did suggest I got into making porn films because, “That’s where the big bucks are – and big bazookas!” And he could watch them being made.
So, all in all, it was kind of a fun evening, but it felt like I was saying goodbye.
I suppose that’s exactly what it was.
We left the pub well after midnight, but it was impossible to get a cab. We tried waiting for a bus, but some drunk guys started giving me hassle, and Clare mouthed off to them, so we had to leg it. I was soooo glad that Clare wasn’t the kind of girl who wore high heels when she went out. Now if she wore them in bed, yeah, I could totally get into that.
But we didn’t want to wait for any more buses after that – I was kind of afraid of the trouble Clare’s mouth would get me into if we stood at a bus stop. And I really didn’t want to find out if training for a fake fight with a Hollywood stuntman would make a difference when four bricklayers from Essex threatened to rearrange my face.
So we walked. Well, I walked – Clare rode piggyback most of the way.