Authors: Lexi Adair
"This moment."
"It's perfect.” He kissed her softly on the lips.
She tore herself from his arms and crossed to the wet bar. She paused as though some inner conflict had her second guessing every action. “Don't say that."
"Why?"
There was a slight tremble to her hand as she reached for a wineglass. She poured herself a splash of merlot from the opened bottle. “Nothing's ever perfect.” She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped. “Nothing lasts forever."
"Who needs forever when we have tonight?” Anthony crossed to her once again. He took the glass from her hand and set it on the bar.
His fingers wrapped around her arm and he yanked her playfully around.
Damn this woman.
She was a mountain of contrasts. Soft and supple in one moment as she begged him to claim her, yet dangerous and brazen as she challenged convention in the next. Why did she have to be so fucking perfect for him? It wasn't fair to him or his wicked desires.
Anthony swept her into his arms. He cradled her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He dropped her into the plush bedding and pinned her beneath his body.
His fingertips grazed her temples as he swept her golden hair away from her brow. “Summer?” he asked as he lazily trailed his thumb over her parted lips.
"Hummm?"
"Your story.” His voice was still raw. “If you really want it, I'll give it to you.” He heard the words tumble from his lips yet he couldn't believe he had actually said it. If this wasn't love, then he didn't know what was.
Summer lifted her hand. She cupped her palm over his scruffy jawline as her thumb absently stroked his cheek. Her emerald studded eyes glimmered softly as her lips curved into a tender smile. “Who says I want to share you?"
"You don't want your story?"
"There'll be another."
He rested his head on her breast while she absently ran her fingers through his hair. There was nothing else she could have said that would have pleased him more. And nothing that could have melted the last hard edges of his heart.
As daylight gave way to the amber hues of sunset Summer grew restless waiting for Anthony's return. They'd greeted their last day in rain-drizzled Seattle with a sweaty tumble beneath the sheets. But morning had come and gone and at quarter ‘til eleven Anthony had dragged himself from the room.
He had mumbled while he dressed. Cursing his manager for booking him a day of publicity events on their last day in town when all he'd wanted to do was spend it beneath the sheets. There was a part of her that hoped he would tell his manager to fuck off and come back to her bed. But he hadn't. Duty bound him just as it had bound her.
Duty. She nearly scoffed at the word. Perhaps she wasn't as bound by her vocation as she had once thought. Never before would she have blown the story of a lifetime for a tumble beneath the sheets. Yet, strangely, she had no regrets. She would have turned down a hundred stories for chance to spend a moment in his arms. She was hopeless. Completely and utterly hopeless.
There would be another story, she tried to remind herself as she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was already twenty after six. His laptop lay open on the bed beside her. The cursor blinking repeatedly, waiting for the next word. She'd written most of the day, the hours passing like minutes as her fingers flew over the keyboard.
The story, half truth, half indulged fiction, mirrored her exploits, revealed her heart's desire, exposed her deepest thoughts. It wasn't what she had come for or what she had set out to write, but her fingers had taken over as she penned the story that could never be published.
The words flowed from her like a waterfall. Spilling, sometimes haphazardly, onto the page. The story would forever be hers to keep. A diary the world would never see. She would keep it as a reminder, for too soon their moment would pass and they would go their separate ways. She may have been a writer, but she wasn't a romantic. In real-life there was no such thing as a happily-ever-after.
Her dark thoughts turned to their inevitable departure from this room, from this fantasy they had created. The thought had drowned the love-stricken words that had filled the page. She'd had attempted to break the block with a long hot bath but a soak in the tub had not chased away her writer's block.
Her clothes had been torn to shreds during their lovemaking so she'd rummaged through Anthony's suitcase and slipped into a white T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. She returned to the laptop and stared blankly at the screen but the words refused to come.
Summer heard the door click open. She tabbed over to her open email and attached the file she'd been working on. She clicked “send” and then slammed the laptop shut.
She rose and crossed the room to poise herself in the threshold. She leaned her elbow against the door frame. Her head rested in the palm of her upturned hand. She let her gaze trail lazily across the room before settling on him beneath lowered brows. “You're late."
Anthony drew his gaze slowly up the length of her body as he dropped his shoulder and the guitar case slip free to fall to the floor with a heavy thud. “You're gorgeous."
Summer peeled herself from the doorway. Her bare feet padded silently across the carpet as she drew to him. She watched the dance of desire flicker in his haunting gaze. The desire reflected in his eyes matched the hunger searing insider her as she drew in the delectable vision of him. She buried her fingers between the dark strands of his hair.
"We played an entire set for one those morning talk shows,” he noted dryly. “I need a shower and a stiff drink."
The drink she could offer him, but as for the shower, she hoped he would pass. A fine film of sweat covered his face and made his skin glow erotically under the pale light of the sunset streaking in through the open windows. His lips were moist, as though they'd recently been licked. Though his eyes showed an unmistakable fatigue the desire drowned the weariness in its shadow.
A knock on the door drew Anthony's attention. He turned and cast a glance back at the door. “Who the hell is that?"
"Dinner."
"Ah, honey you cooked.” Anthony smiled easily then turned and threw open the door. The waiter gave him a curt nod and then pushed his cart full of silver-plated dishes into the room. “Where would you like it, sir?"
"Right there is fine.” Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of cash. His slipped the tip into the waiter's hand, thanked him for his trouble and then closed the door behind him. He crossed to Summer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I'm going to grab a shower. Give me ten minutes."
Summer gave a nod as he disappeared into the adjoining bedroom. She went to work sorting through the piles of plates displayed on the service tray. Deciding there wasn't enough room on the small table for all the food she'd ordered she spread the banquet out on the floor in the sunken sitting area of the suite.
When she'd finished arranging their dinner she slipped down to sit crossed legged on the floor. She snatched a piece of bread off one of the plates and popped it into her mouth.
Anthony returned a few moments later. He'd donned a simple navy T-shirt and pair of baggy, faded blue jeans. His feet were bare and his face left unshaven. He was every bit as breathtaking in this casual attire as he was strutting around on stage in his tight jeans and open, collared shirt. He took in the feast set on display and laughed aloud. It was a deep, infectious sound that made her smile with the awkward innocence of it. “What did you do, order everything on the menu?"
Summer tore off another piece of bread. “I didn't know what you liked."
Anthony shook his head and then crossed the room and sat down on the carpet beside her. He cocked a brow at the half a dozen plates scattered about the floor. Summer shrugged innocently. “What? It's not like you can't afford it, Mr. Rockstar."
"You're a wicked woman."
She flashed a devilish smile. “You have no idea."
Anthony drew up a plate with steak and a pile of old-fashioned whipped potatoes. He dipped his fork into the potatoes and brought it his mouth. As it touched his tongue a deep moan escaped the back of his throat. “Oh my God, I haven't had a thing to eat all day."
"Don't they feed you?"
"I've only got an appetite for one thing.” Anthony shoved the plates aside and dragged her into his arms. She giggled girlishly as he devoured her neck with feverish, sloppy kisses.
"You've ruined me, Summer Staite.” He flipped her over and pinned her to the ground.
Summer laughed as he adjusted himself on top of her, his growing cock pressed demandingly between her legs. His gaze softened then, and his hands came up to stroke the long golden strands at her temple.
Summer stilled beneath him. She drew in a long breath as she struggled to form the words she didn't care to utter. “Anthony?"
"Tony,” he muttered as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Call me Tony."
"What happens tomorrow?"
He shifted off of her. Sat with his arm hooked over one knee as he studied her from beneath lowered brows. “We're heading to Victoria."
"The show must go on.” She started collecting the scattered plates and tumbled food but he took hold of her hand.
"Don't do this."
"My life is in L.A. and yours is ... well ... wherever the road happens to take you. Tomorrow you'll get on your plane and I'll get on mine and we'll go our separate ways."
"We'll work something out."
She shook her head. A half-hearted smile curved on her lips despite the fact that she didn't feel it. “Let's not pretend that this is something it isn't. I'm just an ordinary girl, Tony, and you're, well..."
"Yeah, I know.” He squeezed her hand. “I'm a fucking rockstar. But let's forget that for tonight. Let me just be Tony."
Summer stretched in a feline manner. The warm, pleasant afterglow of their lovemaking flamed her skin. She rolled over and draped her sweat-slicked body over his naked frame.
She had never been more relaxed. Her body hummed with silent vibrations of lingering pleasure. She closed her eyes and listened to rapid thump of his heart beneath his chest. Her body rose and fell softly with his as he drew deep, quiet breaths.
Anthony absently ran his fingers through her mused hair. “Summer?"
Summer murmured her reply, her mind still dark and hazy. “Humm?"
"Will you get me a smoke?"
"Um-hum. Where are they?"
"There's a pack on the desk I think."
Summer dragged her aching body from the bed. Not bothering with clothes or covering herself, she crossed the room to the desk beneath the window. A stack of papers, music sheets and miscellaneous documents, were scattered across the smooth, lacquered surface.
She flipped on the lamp, shedding light on the table as she shuffled through the contents, looking for the rumpled pack. “I don't see...” Her words trailed off as she caught sight of her name on one of the documents.
She slipped the paper out from beneath the others. She skimmed the contents and promptly whirled about. She held up the document. “What the hell is this?"
Anthony gave a half shrug. “I don't know. What is it?"
Summer crossed the distance between them and shoved the paper at him. She folded her arms across her bare breasts as she waited for his response.
He let out a huff of amusement then tossed the paper on the nightstand as if it weren't important. “Just legal bullshit. You know, paper trail."
"Paper trail,” she repeated as the words drew out slowly from her lips. “Were you seriously going to ask me to sign that?"
Anthony rose then. He yanked on his boxers and stepped around her as he made his way to the desk. He sifted through the papers. When he came up empty-handed he pulled open the desk drawer. He found his cigarettes there. “Everyone has to, Summer, my manager insists."
She shouldn't have been surprised, but she was, and her jaw dropped in horror. “
Everyone?
"
Anthony gave a shrug and drew again from the cigarette as he held her gaze. “It's just insurance, baby. Nothing personal."
Summer bent and snatched his T-shirt from the floor. She slipped it over her head. It swallowed her, dripping off her body and falling nearly to her knees. If she was going to have this conversation with him, she certainly wasn't going to do it naked. “Don't you dare call me ‘baby'."
"I told you it's nothing personal.” Anthony turned and headed into the adjoining living room.
Summer snatched the document off the table and followed him. She found him at the wet bar, pouring himself yet another drink. “Just exactly how many policies do you have?"
"I don't think that's relevant."
Summer shook her head as she let gaze fall back to the paper in her hand. She scanned the words again faltering over the date. “You arrogant ass.” There was a huff of laughter behind her words not because she was amused but because she was bewildered. “This is dated the day we met."
"So?"
"So, you prepared a fucking a non-disclosure statement for sex on the day we met. You didn't even know me—you still don't. How the hell could have possibly known I was going to sleep with you?” She waited a beat and drew in a breath as she considered her own statement. “I wasn't!"
Anthony grinned at that and it made her want to hit him right in that proud, square chin of his. “Yet here we are.” He blew out a deep breath. “Summer, honestly, it's nothing against you. It's not meant as an insult, baby, it's just business."
She wasn't sure if she was angry at him for playing her or angry at herself for falling for it. She should have known he would use her. She certainly knew his type. It was disheartening to know he really wasn't any different from the others.
"Look, it wasn't my idea.” He flicked his ashes in obvious irritation. “It's my manager. Apparently I'm too tempting of a target and well, you know how they are. Too many damn sleazy reporters have tried..."
His words trailed off as disappointment and hurt flickered across her face. She turned away disappearing back into the bedroom even as he called of after her. “Summer, wait, I didn't mean you."