Craving Him

10

Emmy

After a six-hour flight to Los Angeles we boarded a twelve-hour flight to Fiji. Luckily I slept most of the way with my head resting on Ben’s shoulder. My neck was stiff and sore when I finally awoke. Sparkling turquoise water as far as the eye could see greeted me out the window. Ben leaned over to look with me. “Wow. It’s so pretty.” He kissed my temple. “I haven’t received my schedule for the shoots yet but hopefully we have time to play.”

I turned to face him. “As your assistant should I be emailing someone to find out your schedule?”

He shrugged. “Sure. If you’d like.”

“Ben,” I scolded. “I’m not okay with being your assistant in title only. I will work hard for you. We should actually discuss all this—your expectations, needs, what my role will be.”

“Baby, I’m not worried about it. Just having you with me helps me.”

I clamped my mouth closed. I could see that it would be up to me to determine my role as an assistant. He wasn’t going to boss me around or give me any direction. I pulled out my cell phone and powered it on while the plane taxied to the gate.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked.

“Checking if I can get a Wi-Fi connection here.”

“You should near the airport, in the populated areas, and at our hotel, but I’m not sure about the rest of the island. Why?”

“Does Fiona know I’m your assistant?”

“Not yet.”

Oh boy. “She’s about to.”

Ben smiled at my confidence.

Seeing that I had cell phone service, I quickly typed out my message.

To: Fiona Stone

From: Emmy Clarke

Subject: Fiji Shoots

Fiona,

Can you please send me Ben’s schedule of all bookings while we are here in Fiji? We’d like to know what is planned for the duration of the trip.

Thank you,

Emmy Clarke

Assistant to Ben Shaw

Ha! That ought to give her something to think about.

“If you’d like me to manage your social media presence, like Gunnar used to, I’ll just need your passwords for the sites you’d like me to help with.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

I could post behind-the-scenes pictures of his shoots. His fans would appreciate seeing snippets of those.

“Excellent.” I felt more in control and confident about my role already.

Stepping off the plane, I realized I was in desperate need of a shower. I wanted to wash my face and my limp, greasy hair and change out of the rumpled jeans and T-shirt I’d been wearing for a solid eighteen hours. After collecting our luggage Ben and I moved toward the airport exit where I spotted a uniformed driver holding a sign that read Ben Shaw. I poked him in the side with my elbow and pointed.

“Fiona must have arranged a pickup. I was planning to grab a cab.”

Oh, Fiona. How lovely. God, I was really going to have to keep my temper in check. I was here in my own right this time, and she couldn’t just send me packing. I straightened my shoulders and followed the driver and Ben.

Once outside the humidity smacked me in the face. My hair instantly increased in volume. I blinked against the sunlight and took in our surroundings—a tiny little airport surrounded by massive palm trees.

I slid into the white limousine, which was really quite ridiculous for two people, while Ben assisted the driver with placing our bags inside the trunk.

This was my first visit to the South Pacific and I was in awe of the idyllic setting, crystal-blue waters, brilliant blue and cloudless sky, tropical flowers and plants, and rolling hills in the distance. Everything was lush and green. Vibrant, and so pretty.

The driver stopped in front of a pink-and-white stucco hotel. It was charming, but somewhat understated, letting the natural beauty of the island stand out.

We headed inside and I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt, which would’ve been fine back home. Here I felt homely and anything but sophisticated. The lobby was little more than a large, thatched roof pitched over marble floors. It was open on all sides, allowing the ocean breeze to lift strands of hair from my neck and providing a breathtaking view of the beach beyond.

We were handed cocktails poured into real coconuts while we checked in. I sipped the icy, sweet concoction, letting the flavors of spiced rum and creamy coconut milk dance on my tongue while Ben handed over his credit card. I could get used to this life.

The approach of clicking heels across the marble floor caught my attention and I turned.

Fiona was here.

She was island perfection in a colorful pastel sundress and gold sandals. Her dress was loose fitting but her belly had grown since I’d seen her last. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was glowing.

Fuck me.

I wished I could stop comparing myself to this woman but knowing she’d had a five-year affair with my boyfriend made that a teensy bit hard to do.

“Love! You made it!” She had eyes only for Ben and threw herself into his arms.

“Fiona.” Ben greeted her coolly and removed her claws from around his waist.

Her eyes landed on mine. “Oh. Emerson. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Ben’s arm came around my waist, drawing me closer. “Emmy’s staying with me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate with her.”

Fiona’s answering smile was as fake as they came, her lips curving up to reveal too-white teeth. “Of course, my love. I’ll play nice.” One hand moved to rest against her belly.

“Hi, Fiona.” I found my voice, however soft and shaky. “I emailed you about obtaining Ben’s schedule while we’re here.”

“I’ll send it to him tonight.”

“Send it to Emmy,” Ben interrupted.

“Of course,” she said, looking slightly wounded. “We have a pre-production dinner tonight with the photographer,” she added.

“Emmy’s working for me now so it’ll be good for her to hear whatever’s discussed tonight.”

“She’s working for you?” Fiona’s brow crinkled, the frown lines around her mouth puckering like she’d tasted something sour.

“Yes. She’s my assistant.” Ben’s fingers dug into my hip as his grasp on me tightened.

“How . . . cute.” The word “cute” dripped with sarcasm.

Bitch.

“We’re just getting checked in, if you’ll excuse us,” Ben said.

“I booked your room next to mine, like we usually do. I’ll see you soon,” Fiona said before sauntering away.

Ben and I were both silent as a bellhop led us to our room. I hoped it wouldn’t continue to feel this tense the entire time we were here. And if there was an adjoining door to Fiona’s room, I was going to lose it.

The hotel was quite elegant, so there were no adjoining doors. I quickly became distracted by and fascinated with our room, which was actually a large suite. I spent a solid twenty minutes exploring while sipping my yummy coconut and rum drink. A plush living room decorated in island furniture led to the master bedroom with a king-sized bed draped in a white, gauzy canopy and French doors that gave way to a private terrace and view of the ocean.

“Is everything to your liking, Miss Clarke?” Ben’s deep voice rushed over my skin, making me tingle from head to toe.

I spun to face him, abandoning my inspection of the vase of exotic flowers placed artfully on the dresser. “It’s lovely.”

He took the empty coconut from my hands, set it on the nearby dresser, and pulled me into his arms. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” I murmured, getting lost in the intensity of his hazel gaze.

“Just think, ten days here together. . . .”

“I’ve got quite a demanding boss to keep happy.”

“It’s the other way around, babe. I’ll gladly do anything and everything to make you happy.”

“Well, thank you for sticking up for me with Fiona and telling her I work for you.”

“Hmm . . . I think being the boss should entitle me to some perks.” He slid one finger under the hem of my T-shirt and traced a tiny circle against my hip bone.

I barely resisted the urge to squirm under his soft, languid touch that promised so much more. “Such as?”

“I get to tell you what to do. All of my desires, all my requests, will be in your hands to fulfill.” The dark, predatory look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.

“And what do you want?”

His hand slid lower and caressed my bottom as he drew me closer. Leaning in, his mouth brushed against my earlobe and his warm breath sent my pulse racing. “I want to strip you naked, lay you on the bed, spread you open, and taste you until you come,” he whispered against my skin.

Okay, clearly we were going to have to talk about the proper etiquette of being my employer. He was a walking, talking human resources nightmare. Good thing I had no plans to turn him in for sexual harassment. I pulled back just a fraction. “What if I’m not so keen on fucking my boss?” I licked my lips and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth.

His thumb stroked my bottom lip. “Or I could order you to your knees and put this pretty mouth to use.”

His large palm continued lightly rubbing my ass, and I swear just that simple touch and the burning desire I saw reflected in his eyes was making me wet. “I wanted to be gentle, make love to you properly, but you’re making that impossible. The longer you make me wait, the harder I’m going to fuck you when you do finally give in.”

“Ben . . . we have to get ready for your pre-production dinner. I need to shower, dry my hair. . . .”

“We’ll discuss this later,” he said, and gave my butt a playful swat.

I yelped at the unexpected contact and absently massaged the heated spot as I made my way to the bathroom for a shower.

After a long, hot shower, I wrapped myself in the downy hotel robe and padded into the bedroom in search of the suitcase Ben had packed for me.

I was surprised to find so many pretty and elegant things inside. A basic black string bikini, a pink-and-white polka-dotted bikini with a matching pale pink sarong, casual flip flops, espadrille wedges, several sundresses—all designer brands and each in my size. There were shorts, skirts, and tank tops in every color. I selected a pretty royal blue strapless sundress and a pair of silver strappy sandals with little jewels at the ankles. There was even a little pewter-colored handbag that I could tuck a tube of lip gloss into at least. I lay out the dress and finished getting ready, blow-drying my hair and applying light makeup.

When I slipped on the dress I found it was a perfect fit. It hugged my every curve and landed just above my knees. I straightened the bodice that gently squeezed my breasts and inspected myself in the mirror one last time.

“You look beautiful, baby.” Ben’s hands slid across my hips and settled against my waist.

I loved getting dressed up for him. It had a way of making me feel pretty and put together. I knew it was foolish but just the fact that this beautiful man found me worthy of being on his arm made me feel confident. Stepping into the silver-jeweled sandals, I felt like Cinderella, and the glass slipper even fit.

Ben

Strolling into the restaurant with Emmy on my arm made me feel both comfortable and uneasy. Comfortable because she had a way about her that made me feel relaxed and calm. Uneasy because we were preparing to be around Fiona. Who could possibly be carrying my baby, and who was known to treat Emmy like shit. I was leading her into shark-infested waters. All my senses were up.

We were the first two to be seated at the table for four on the expansive terrace that overlooked the turquoise-blue water. I helped Emmy into her chair and couldn’t help but notice she was fidgeting. Toying with the little strap on her purse and spinning the silver bracelet on her wrist.

“Hey, we’ve got this. I’ll take care of you. Always. You trust me, right?”

Pretty gray eyes locked on mine and she gave me a careful nod.

The server appeared, a slight young girl who seemed captivated by me. Great. Just what I needed. I didn’t want Emmy feeling insecure. I reached across the table and took her hand. I cleared my throat and the waitress’s gaze snapped up. “Something to drink?”

“Yes, just water for me please, but what beers do you have on tap?” I nodded to Emmy.

Emmy’s lips curved in a smile as she listened to the choices, and then placed her order. I knew my girl.

Once the server was gone, Emmy shot me a curious glance. “Water because of your shoots coming up?”

I nodded. It actually wasn’t, but letting her think so was easier. I wanted all my wits about me to deflect Fiona’s cruelty from Emmy tonight. I didn’t want alcohol slowing my reaction time or numbing me to the situation. This was essentially the first time they would be forced into each other’s company, and frankly that scared the hell out of me. I would need to play interference. I wouldn’t have Fiona belittling my girl.

The evening breeze picked up strands of Emmy’s hair and lifted them from her neck. I watched her, mesmerized, until a wave of laughter with a British accent interrupted our silence. My stomach cramped. My new girlfriend and my ex-lover at the same table. Fuck.

Emmy

Fiona strolled onto the terrace in a flowing orange sundress on the arm of an older bald man, who I assumed was our company for the evening. She looked gorgeous, as always, and I hated her for it. While my hair was three times its normal volume and frizzed out of control from the humidity, hers was flat-iron sleek and smooth and hung in a glossy wave down her back. Her lips were painted in pink gloss, and were those false eyelashes? I resisted rolling my eyes and instead followed Ben’s lead, standing to greet them both.

She kissed Ben on both cheeks and I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms. Ouch. Breathe, Emmy, I reminded myself.

The bald man introduced himself as Gentry Smith. He was the photographer for the photo shoot.

Once we’d ordered drinks, Fiona stood from the table, one hand resting on her little swollen belly. “Will you excuse me a moment? I need to visit the loo. This baby makes me wee more.” She chuckled.

Whore.

I had no patience for her or this pregnancy. If that made me a terrible person, so be it. I was trying my damnedest to be polite and well mannered around her. I couldn’t also be expected to control my thoughts. And in my mind, I’d clawed her eyes out before the appetizer even arrived.

We dined on grilled swordfish, tiger prawns, and scallop mousse, which I didn’t think I’d like until Ben urged me to try a bite from his fork. I found it surprisingly good. But my favorite dish of the night was the garlic and Parmesan risotto. It was creamy and salty and I ate every bite on my plate.

I did my best to ignore Fiona, which was relatively easy. I focused on the delicious food as Gentry talked endlessly about all the models he’d shot over the years. It was poor taste, really, to brag as much as he did, but none of us minded because I sensed that Ben and Fiona were just as glad for the distraction as I was. He only talked briefly of their photo shoot on the beach, and I’d asked a few basic questions about his start and end times, like any good assistant would, before the topic was changed to cover the rest of Gentry’s impressive list of accomplishments.

For being pregnant, Fiona didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. She merely pushed the food around her plate, playing with it more than eating. For dessert, though, she requested pink grapefruit salad, and though I’d wanted the cheesecake I kept my trap shut and nodded along, ordering the same.

Ben leaned toward me. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” I answered.

He frowned, the crease in between his brows deepening as he studied me. He knew me too well.

Ben’s left hand remained on my knee throughout the meal, his thumb softly caressing my skin. A few times I caught Fiona’s gaze slipping back and forth between me and Ben and I wondered if she was pondering what he saw in me. I couldn’t say I really felt bad for her; it was more like a subtle awareness permeating the air, reminding us all that he’d picked me and not her.

His hand crept higher on my thigh, his fingertips pressing into my flesh. Lifting my chin to look into his eyes, I saw a man in need. His intense hazel gaze was locked on mine and a shiver zipped up my spine. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. Only that he seemed to need something. I fought to quiet the anxieties plaguing my mind.

He’d completely tuned out Gentry’s rambling. His gaze was glued to my thighs where the sundress had hitched up when I’d sat down, and his fingertips traced little circles along the tender skin. His eyes were dark and hungry, almost primal in his craving for me. I pushed my knees together, trying to stop the little darts of pleasure racing up from his touch and making my panties feel constrictive over my sensitized flesh.

He’d been so attentive, so loving that I was starting to feel guilty making him wait so long. We’d already been intimate, already breached that boundary—many, many times in fact. But now because of the whole Fiona pregnancy fiasco, I’d sworn off sex with him. It probably wasn’t fair for him. Or for me. Maybe I would change that tonight.

After dinner Ben led me inside our darkened hotel room, pressing my back against the door and taking my face in his hands. I tried to decipher the meaning in his haunted gaze but suddenly his mouth was crashing against mine, his lips firm and demanding. I parted my lips and his warm tongue sought entrance, sucking at mine greedily. His mouth moved down my throat, licking and stroking the skin with his tongue. Pressing his hips to mine, I felt the evidence of his arousal and I brought my hands up to his chest, my nails lightly raking over his firm pecs and abs. Moving his mouth from my skin, Ben captured my wrists and pinned them above my head. “Don’t touch me if you’re not going to finish the job, sweetheart.”

Holding my hands against the door, Ben pushed his erection into my belly and a raw whimper escaped my throat. His eyes were filled with desire, and when he pressed into me I felt the rigid lines of his body, smelled the crisp sent of his cologne, and heat pooled between my legs.

“Fuck,” he cursed loudly, dropping my wrists and turning away from me. He stormed across the room, both hands raking through his hair, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Whoa.

What had I done to set him off tonight?

Crossing the room on shaky legs, I paused at the sofa to remove my strappy sandals and then padded barefoot across the marble floor. I knocked tentatively at the bathroom door. “Ben?”

Silence.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Just fucking dandy,” he answered, his voice tight.

Sheesh. I didn’t know what started his temper tantrum but I was near certain I hadn’t done anything wrong. “Ben, please talk to me.” I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open slowly, I found him leaning over the sink, his hands gripping the marble countertop, his head dropped forward.

My stomach twisted nervously. My mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. . . . Was he racked with guilt over something else he needed to confess about him and Fiona? Heaven help me because I knew I couldn’t take it. And I was eighteen hours from home.

I wanted to ease his anxieties, to tell him whatever it was we’d get through it, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead I waited, twisting the bracelet on my wrist. Finally he turned.

“I can’t do this.”

My stomach dropped. God, why had I thought it was a good idea to eat scallop mousse? It was threatening to make an appearance.

He stepped closer, towering over me in my bare feet. “I can’t share this room with you, sleep in the same bed, and be expected not to touch you. I love you, Emmy. You’re mine. All of you. Your heart, mind, and body. And I’m yours.”

“W-what are you saying?” I stammered.

“I just can’t take it anymore,” he said, releasing a heavy sigh filled with pent-up frustration.

“You don’t want me?” I asked.

He laughed. The bastard actually laughed, a rich throaty chuckle that tumbled from his perfect mouth. “I’ve had the biggest case of blue balls since we got back together. I’m about to make the fucking Guinness Book of World Records. I’ll have to see a doctor to make sure this won’t cause permanent damage in case you want kids someday.”

My heart swelled. He’d never discussed wanting children, and I suddenly found his little tantrum incredibly cute.

His hand unconsciously went to the bulge in his pants and he winced as he adjusted himself.

My eyes followed his movement. Oh. Heavens, that thing took my breath away. Had he escaped to the bathroom to deal with that on his own? Was that what this was about?

Everything struck me at once. Ben wanted me. He loved me. He needed this—to be intimate with me, for me to accept him and all his baggage. And I was denying him.

Bringing my hand toward him, I lightly rubbed his manhood through the thin material of his dress pants. His eyes flicked to mine and a low growl rumbled through his chest.

“You need me to kiss it and make it better?” I whispered.

His breathing faltered in his chest. “Don’t tease me, baby. I can’t take it.”

A slow smile curled on my mouth. I was ready. And not just because of his pouty tantrumlike behavior. Even at dinner I’d questioned myself, and now alone with him in this room it was obvious. I wanted him, too. All of him. He was right, he was mine and I was his. There was no sense in waiting any longer. I worked to free his belt, taking my time pulling it from the loops while my eyes danced on his.

“Baby, stop, stop.” His hands held mine, preventing me from pulling down his zipper. “Not like this. Not because you feel pressured.”

I shook my head. “That’s not it.”

He pushed a lock of stray hair from my face, cupping my cheek. “Seriously, I’ll take a cold shower and sleep on the couch. I’m not letting you do something you don’t want. You wanted to wait. And we will.”

“I’m done waiting.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “What brought that on?” he asked, still holding my hands in place.

“Because.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’m a woman. And I’m emotional and sometimes unsure and I change my mind about things. A lot.” I kissed him again, his bottom lip jutting out the tiniest bit in a pout. “And I’ve decided. I’m ready.” Kiss. “For this. For you. Us.” Kiss.

Still cupping my face in his big, warm palms, his thumb lightly stroked my cheek. “Are you sure about this? I told you I can’t take it if you’re just playing around.”

“Don’t pout,” I scolded him, pulling my hands from his hold so I could free his button and tug down his zipper.

He dutifully dropped his hands to his sides. Good boy. He was going to cooperate. I understood my changing moods may be giving him whiplash, but I really was ready, despite his sudden hesitation. Tugging his pants and boxer briefs down over his hips, Ben’s hands went to rest on the top of his head and he looked down at me in wonder, his lips parting slightly.

I dropped to my knees in the ultimate submissive gesture. Pulling the material the rest of the way down his thighs, his cock sprang free, leaping to greet me. I’d forgotten how big he was. My skin heated at the sight of him and my mouth watered to taste him, to please him. He was swollen and had a thick vein pulsing along his shaft. Wrapping my fist around his long, thick cock, Ben let out a strangled moan. Apparently he wasn’t going to last long tonight. I’d kept him waiting too long. A few simple touches and he was nearly there.

Hands fisted and still resting on top of his head, he pushed his hips forward, invading my mouth deeply. I accommodated his length, sliding my mouth all the way down until my lips were around his base. His knees locked and his entire body clenched in response. I loved pleasing him like this. Even though I was the one on my knees, submitting to him, I felt sexy and powerful.

His hands moved to my jawline and he cupped my face as he pulled himself free. “You’re going to make me come already.”

I smiled up at him, my lips swollen and my knees protesting from the unforgiving marble floor. Ben lifted me up under my arms and didn’t stop until he’d placed me on the countertop so that I was facing him. In this position we were nearly the same height, and he pressed his lips to mine. “I need to be inside you, baby. I need to fuck you.”

Without waiting for my response, his hands pushed under my dress and tugged at the lace thong I was wearing. I felt it being dragged across my knees, while Ben kissed me deeply. His fingers parted me and he pressed one long digit inside. I broke from the kiss to let out a soft moan.

“Fuck. You’re soaking wet, baby.” He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it greedily, tasting me, and I saw his cock twitch between us the second his mouth closed around his finger. He stroked himself a few times and stepped in between my thighs, spreading me open. Guiding himself to my opening, Ben pressed forward. His mouth crashed against mine in a hungry kiss.

As his length slid inside me exquisitely, slowly, his head dropped back and a low groan slipped from his mouth. The sound was raw with pleasure. It ignited all my senses and I clenched around him. Gripping my hips, Ben slammed into me faster, harder, until the sounds of wet flesh slapping together was amplified in the small room. He fucked me hard and without any mercy, my first orgasm crashing through me in a sudden rush of heat.

“Fuck . . . I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck. Fuckkk.” Unexpectedly, he pulled out and stroked himself until he came all over my pink flesh with a groan and then pushed back inside of me. The juices he’d marked me with made him slide in and out so deeply it stole my breath.

“Ben.” My hand flattened on his clenched abs. “That’s really deep . . .”

He slowed his pace, dragging himself in and out of me slowly, and bought his lips to mine. “I want you to feel me deep inside you, baby. All of me.”

He pushed all the way in until we were no longer two separate people but one being, sharing eye contact, moving together, breathing in the same air. The rush of sensations was almost too much. I sucked in a lungful of air and held it, releasing it slowly.

“Your pussy belongs to me.”

I dropped my hand, no longer wanting him to hold back. I needed all of him. I loved the way he owned me so completely. Once I gave myself over to the sensations and let go of control, it felt amazing. He was stretching me, filling me completely, but I loved it. “Faster . . . babe . . . I’m almost there . . .” I arched my back, pushing my hips closer to his. My second release blossomed deep inside me. I clutched his shoulders and hung on tight as he pounded into me.

“You’re mine,” he breathed. “Just mine.”

“Always” I whispered.

Ben lifted me from the countertop and I wrapped my legs around his waist. One arm gripped around my bottom and his other hand settled on the back of my neck, pressing my mouth to his. Without breaking our connection, he walked us over to the bed and laid me down gently, momentarily pulling free from my body while he arranged a pillow under my head. I whimpered at the loss of him. I’d already come twice, and him once, but the look in Ben’s eyes told me we were far from done. The hungry, possessive look I saw reflected in his gaze heated my skin and made my pulse jump erratically.

He joined me on the bed, lying over the top of me to cage me in against the mattress. He cradled my face in his hands, lowering his mouth to mine and mumbling soothing words in between sweet kisses. “I’m sorry, baby. I meant to go slow. I wanted to take my time with you and make you feel good.”

He was apologizing? I supposed the bathroom counter wasn’t the most romantic place to have sex, but I wasn’t complaining. Not at all. I felt his erection nudging against my belly and I squirmed underneath him, trying to angle us closer.

Ben brushed stray strands of hair from my forehead and planted a soft kiss there. “I need to make love to you,” he whispered in his deep, sexy voice.

I merely nodded. I hadn’t heard him use those words before. Usually his language was much cruder, favoring the f-word for our physical act. I’d always felt there was more between us, even from the very beginning when I knew I shouldn’t fall for him. I had. Totally and completely, and despite all the things fighting against us, I wanted him. Needed him. This man had consumed me and there was no denying that fact. I climbed on top of him, wanting to show him we were really okay. His body joined mine and the slow, sweet way he made love to me filled my entire heart and soul with so much emotion, I had to hang on to his biceps tightly to keep from combusting in happiness.

I rhythmically rode him, lifting up and gliding down so slowly I could feel each inch of him invade me. Sensations blossomed deep inside me each time he was fully seated. The pace was agonizingly slow, but he let me maintain it. His hands moved to my hips, lifting and lowering me against him, and I loved the feel of his strength, commanding my body to do as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he was doing.

Ben

The sound of someone knocking on the door woke me from a deep slumber. Lifting Emmy from the spot she’d claimed on my chest, I gently placed her beside me and pulled off the blankets and rose to my feet.

Emmy rolled into the spot I’d vacated and pulled my pillow into her arms. She curled her legs up until she was hugging the pillow in a full-body embrace. Damn, that was one lucky pillow. She let out a sleepy little murmur. Just as I considered crawling back into bed, the tapping sound on the door captured my attention again. My brain, not yet fully awake, struggled to make my body leave Emmy’s side, but I pulled on a pair of jeans and went to answer the door.

“Damn, I’m coming,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.

A hotel attendant greeted me then pushed a room service cart through the door and into the living room. “Just sign here, please.” He thrust a slip of paper at me.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall ordering anything.” We’d stayed up most of the night talking and having sex, so my head was a little fuzzy this morning, but I didn’t recall phoning for room service.

“No, you didn’t.” He pointed to the paper. “It was ordered by a Miss Fiona Stone. All paid for.”

I signed the receipt and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” I mumbled and watched, confused, as he slipped out the door.

Emmy came padding out of the bedroom a moment later, dressed only in a tank top and a pair of my boxer briefs. I took a moment to just take her in. Slender legs, curvy hips, full breasts, and hair tangled and loose around her shoulders. Mine.

“C’mere, baby.”

She crossed the room on bare feet and wrapped her arms around my waist, nestling in against my chest.

I pulled her close, relishing the feel of her small, soft body pressed against my firm one. “You stole my underwear,” I whispered into her hair.

“Sorry, did you want them back?” she said sweetly, that little southern twang in her voice just barely evident.

I tilted my head down and stole a look. “No, they look better on you.” My hands slid from her waist to her ass, cupping it in my palms and squeezing gently. I felt my girl shiver lightly. “You fill out the back nicely,” I murmured near her ear.

She giggled and it was the sweetest sound, light and carefree. “Yes, but you fill out the front in a way I never will.”

“I sure as fuck hope you never do. I don’t think I’d like you with a dick, baby.”

She laughed again. “What’s all this?” she asked, motioning to the service cart.

“Uh, breakfast, I suppose.”

“How thoughtful.” She kissed my mouth before stepping out of my arms. “I just want to grab my laptop and see if I can connect to the Wi-Fi before we eat.”

I nodded and watched her bend over to retrieve her laptop bag. Her ass looked good enough to fuck. She cleared her throat and my eyes darted up to hers.

“How about you pour me some coffee while I fire this up? There is coffee, right?”

“Uh . . .” I quickly scanned the cart and found a silver carafe of what I presumed was coffee. “Yeah.” I poured two mugs of coffee, added milk, and set them on the round dining table. I made myself busy while Emmy powered on her computer. I transferred the dishes, silverware, and helpings of the food to the table. I poured us each a glass of what appeared to be pineapple juice. “Is it working, babe?” I asked over my shoulder. I knew she was taking her new assistant job seriously. I found her work ethic sexy, though of course I wouldn’t have minded in the least if she treated this trip like a vacation and lay on the beach the entire week. She deserved a break after all the shit I’d put her through recently.

“Yep. I’ve got a signal. And it looks like Fiona sent an email with the details for the shoot tomorrow. It begins on the beach at nine a.m. There’s an attached page of grooming instructions.”

“Yeah? What’s it say?”

She chuckled under her breath. “Wow. There’s an astounding amount of detail on the way your pubic hair should be trimmed. Basically short . . . oh my goodness. Is this serious?” She let out a short laugh.

Honestly, it wasn’t that surprising. I often received specific instructions for shaving my face, chest, and abs. This was a little out of the ordinary but not that unexpected. It was a swimsuit shoot, after all.

“What else does it say?” I asked.

Her eyes had gone wide and she sat silently blinking at the screen. “Fiona’s left a note underneath the instructions.” Her voice was shaky.

“Read it to me.”

Emmy took a deep breath. “See you tomorrow, love. And P.S. I know these instructions won’t pose a hardship for you, considering you’ve always kept yourself nice and neat. Love, Fiona.”

Within seconds, I’d crossed the room and was guiding her away from the computer by the shoulders. “Ignore her. We both know that was a cheap attempt to get a rise out of you. My cock is yours. Just yours. Okay?”

She nodded, her eyes locked on mine.

I leaned in and kissed her softly. “Sit down, baby. Enjoy your coffee.” I pushed the mug toward her and she lowered herself into the chair. “Eat up,” I urged, sitting down across from her. “We have the whole day to play before work begins tomorrow.” I wanted to get her mind off of Fiona’s bitchy message.

“What are we going to do?”

“Anything you want. Snorkeling, scuba-diving, sunning ourselves, napping, hiking, oh, and apparently we need to shave my balls at some point too.”

She giggled. “Ben!”

“What? I’m a rule follower, baby. And you’re my assistant now, so I think you should have to help. Supervise, at least.”

She shook her head, a pretty smile on her mouth. “Thank you for ordering breakfast. This is delicious.” She nibbled on an apricot pastry drizzled in honey. Part of me wanted to keep quiet, to let her assume it was me, but an annoying voice in the back of my head pointed out that Fiona was likely to mention something about sending us breakfast. I needed to prove to Emmy that I could be honest about the big stuff as well as the little things.

“Actually, Fiona had it sent over,” I murmured in between sips of coffee.

Emmy’s eyebrows shot up and she dropped the half-eaten pastry to her plate as if suddenly losing her appetite. She roughly swallowed the bite she’d been chewing, the food visibly being forced down her throat. “Oh.” She rose from the table. “I’m going to shower.”

Shit.

Having lost my appetite as well, I called the concierge and requested that the food be removed right away so it’d be gone before Emmy was out of the shower.

I would have ordered her breakfast and fed it to her in bed if Fiona hadn’t interfered. Christ, what a mess being stuck between these two women.

When Emmy emerged from the bedroom dressed in a pair of cutoff jean shorts, red tank top, and tan sandals, it seemed her good mood was back. She looked adorable and sexy at the same time. A smile overtook my mouth. “C’mere, pretty.”

She hesitated, blinking at me.

“Emmy.” I held out my hand and she crossed the room and took it. “Are you okay?”

She nodded thoughtfully but didn’t speak.

“Don’t let her take this from us. I was so happy last night and this morning waking up with you.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’m yours, baby. Trust me, okay?”

She nodded again, blinking up at me with unshed tears. I cupped her jaw and angled my mouth to hers. I felt her arms wind around my waist. We fit perfectly together. I just needed to keep reminding her of that. And the only way I seemed to know how to do it was with physical affection. I wasn’t good at pretty words. I was better at fucking and dirty talk.

“As pretty as you look in these little shorts,” my hands slid down the sides of her thighs, “I need these and your panties off.”

Her eyes darted up to mine and she dragged her tongue across her top lip. “I thought we were going out.” Her voice was quiet, timid. I had to show her that she was mine. Desire flared up inside me and I answered it the only way I could.

“Let me fuck you,” I whispered near her ear and felt her shudder.

I quieted her fears about us, about Fiona, the best way I knew how, by clearing her head of all thoughts but one—getting me inside her. I wasn’t sure why, but I loved to hear her beg for my cock to fill her. Watching her come undone was the best fucking sight in the world. And the way she fit around me like a glove was unreal.

When I started pushing her shorts and panties down her hips, Emmy was already squirming for my touch, already making those tiny whimpering noises that I loved.

Emmy

We’d had two rather unproductive days on the island so far, preferring to remain locked away in our room making love rather than facing the world. We’d christened every room in the suite, having loud, sweaty sex. Part of me wanted to stop him, to tell him that he couldn’t chase away our difficulties with sex. Yet, of course, I hadn’t. I’d let him take me. I was too greedy for his touch.

But this morning we were both up and getting ready for Ben’s first photo shoot in Fiji. I gulped down the remainder of my coffee and checked the clock. We had to be down to the beach in twenty minutes. I wanted to get there early to check on everything, though I supposed worrying about the set details was no longer my concern. My only job now was to make sure Ben arrived on time.

I grabbed my camera and packed it into my oversized purse. I planned to take a few behind-the-scenes photos today and post them to Ben’s various social media sites for his fans to enjoy. A pang of sadness welled up inside me at the thought. Millions of women admired this man. Would he ever really be mine?

Dating someone in the public eye was all new for me. Ben had graced the covers of men’s magazines, billboards, and advertisements around the globe. People worldwide had seen his provocative ads, women everywhere had fantasized about this man. And now he was choosing me. It was a lot to take in.

But I was a firsthand witness to the man himself, the actual person behind the glossy magazine pages. I’d seen him at his best, his worst; knew about his many prescription medications, his long-standing affair with his agent. He was known the world over for his physical beauty and stunning physique, but I knew what was in his heart, in his mind. Loving him provoked an achy intensity inside me. I wanted to soothe him, and hide him away from the world. But it was now my job to help promote him.

Realizing we had only fifteen minutes left to go, I pushed away the thoughts. Crossing the room, I tapped on the bathroom door and pushed it open. “Ben?”

“Almost done, babe.” He shut off the water and stepped out the shower, reaching for a towel.

“Holy crap,” I muttered, pressing a hand over my mouth.

“What?” His gaze followed my line of vision south, and he smirked.

He’d shaved.

Everything.

“Nothing,” I murmured. “You just . . . um, look a lot bigger.”

His thick cock hung flaccid down his thigh. And as I watched it, it began to rise.

“Ben! We don’t have time for that. We have to go.”

He chuckled, the rich sound rumbling from his chest. “Then stop looking at my dick and telling me it’s big, sweetheart. Guys tend to like that.” He wrapped the towel around his hips and secured it into place. “You can play with him later, I promise.”

“Just hurry up, I don’t like being late.” I strode from the bathroom and left him alone.

Lord, that man had an insatiable sexual appetite. I was fucked. Literally.

When we finally made it down to the beach, Fiona was chatting with the photographer, Gentry. A girl was sitting in a makeup chair with her back to me while a makeup artist worked on her. Ben’s coworker today, obviously.

When she turned I instantly recognized her. London. One of Ben’s former girlfriends I’d met last summer in Paris. I hadn’t known that she’d be here. She was clad in a barely-there fire-engine red string bikini so small I could see her ovaries.

When she hopped down from the chair my breathing faltered. She was perfectly tanned and toned with bouncy curls and smoky eye makeup. She looked stunning. A slow smile curled on Fiona’s lips as she watched me look over London.

My heart throbbed in my chest as I watched Ben warmly greet London. Why hadn’t he told me his ex would be here? She pointed at the assortment of briefs he’d be expected to wear and they shared a laugh.

Ben approached Gentry next and shook his hand. They talked for a few minutes then he disappeared inside the onsite trailer to change into his first swimsuit.

I stood there, uselessly digging my toes into the sand, feeling utterly alone and out of place without his presence. There was no way I was talking to Fiona and I was too shy to approach London. I doubted she’d remember me from our one awkward encounter during the industry party in Paris. That was the first night Ben informed me, and the world, that I was his girlfriend.

Several minutes later the door to the trailer opened and Ben stepped out.

Holy Speedo, Batman.

His abs and chest looked amazing but when my gaze traveled lower to the large bulge protruding proudly in his snug briefs, I nearly choked on my own tongue. God, he was delicious. All hardened muscle and masculine beauty wrapped up in one tempting package. I wanted to throw a towel around him and shield him from view. Obviously a ridiculous notion considering what he did for a living.

Ben padded barefoot over to the makeup artist, who mussed up his hair so it was perfectly rumpled and then dotted concealer on a few spots before rubbing down his naked skin with bronzing lotion. I wondered if that lotion was edible because he looked good enough to lick.

They got into position and began shooting, several poses together lounging in the sand and playing in the surf, and then changed swimsuits, repeating the process.

I normally loved watching Ben work, but watching him cuddle in the sand with London, wrapped up in each other’s arms and frolicking in the waves, was not fun. Not one bit. I hated seeing Ben’s perfect hands, his long fingers, gripping London’s trim waist. I hated the familiar way her hand curled around his bicep. My stomach twisted like someone had twirled a fork inside me. I felt sick watching them.

They looked great together. The perfect couple. Just knowing they’d been a real couple, that they’d been intimate, that London was one of the three girls Ben had slept with killed me. Deep-seated fear and insecurity rushed up inside me, clouding my head, and making me question everything.

Needing a minute to myself, I turned my back on the shoot and walked off down the beach. I gulped lungfuls of fresh ocean air, pushing away the urge to cry. It was stupid. Ben loved me. He’d told me that repeatedly. But there was no denying that watching him pose, hold, and caress his ex on set was hard. I wasn’t that secure in our relationship to begin with. And London, well . . . she was a perfect ten. Winner of the genetic lottery. And she’d slept with my boyfriend. Awesome.

When I made it back to the set everyone was packing up. Ben and London sat at the edge of the water, butts planted in the sand and feet out in the lapping waves. Ben tipped his head back, obviously amused at something she’d said. Taking a deep, calming breath, I boldly approached them. Ben rose to his feet, pulling me into a hug.

“Baby, there you are. Everything okay?” His hazel gaze probed mine.

“Fine,” I lied.

London stood, dusting the sand from her petite bottom. “Hi, Emmy!”

“Hi.” Gosh, she was gorgeous and nice too.

“That outfit fits you perfectly, I’m glad to see.” She smiled at me.

My brow creased as I struggled to understand her meaning. Ben shifted uncomfortably next to me.

London tipped her head back, laughing. “Ben called and asked for my help shopping for you. I picked out all your vacation clothes.” She smiled at me again, her bright white teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

My stomach dropped like a stone. I thought Ben had picked out and packed the pretty clothes for me. Learning that it was actually his ex-girlfriend stung like a venomous bite. “Oh. I hadn’t realized. Thank you,” I managed to choke out. “Yes, the clothes fit.” No doubt several sizes bigger than London herself wore. Lord, that was embarrassing. The diet started tomorrow. I would wake up early and run every morning, not eat carbs, or anything processed . . . I began dictating the diet plan in my head when Ben’s arm slipped around my waist and tugged me closer.

“Talk to me. You seem upset.”

My gaze traveled to London and she returned my uneasy expression.

“Hey.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Ben and I dated several years ago. It was short lived and”—sorry, she mouthed to Ben—“not all that meaningful. We’ve both moved on. And I’ve never seen him happier. I’m happy for you both.”

“Thank you.” I nodded. It was stupid and insecure of me to feel threatened by their friendship. I repeated that over and over in my head. I didn’t want to be that type of girlfriend. But my damn heart was still throbbing painfully in my chest as I watched London walk away.

Ben was still planted firmly in the sand at my side, waiting for my response. I swallowed heavily. “I feel so in the dark all the time with you, Ben. You should have told me that London was going to be here.”

His eyebrows lifted. “I swore I told you she was booked for this shoot with me.”

I shook my head. That was not a detail I’d forget.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was so preoccupied with actually getting you to come, I didn’t think. And I wanted your bags all packed and ready so that something so mundane didn’t stand in your way. I called London and gave her my American Express. I knew she’d know just what to do. She dropped off all the bags at my apartment and I looked through every article, imagining you in them, and packed them all in the suitcase myself.”

I smiled at his soft, tender tone, the look of genuine concern for me in his eyes. He was trying. He might not know the first thing about being a boyfriend, but he was trying.

“I love you, baby. Please don’t invent things to worry about. There’s nothing between London and I. We’re friends. I promise you.”

I flinched ever so slightly. He’d promised me things before. And now Fiona was pregnant and the last three women he’d slept with all stood within thirty feet of each other on this sandy beach. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head to clear the thoughts running rampant. “I must be getting a little emotional.”

He took my hands in his. “Don’t apologize for how you feel. When I saw you take off down the beach it took everything in me not to go after you. I want to know how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. Always. But promise me you won’t take off again.”

“I promise,” I murmured.

Ben tipped my chin up to his. “Breathe for me, Emmy.”

I pulled in a deep shuddering breath.

“There, that’s my girl.” His hands moved up and down my bare arms, lightly caressing them. He caught something in my tone. “Now tell me what else is bothering you.”

“I just didn’t know London, um, bought my clothes,” I murmured.

“No, baby. I bought them. She picked them out.”

I nodded. I knew that.

“Now tell me what this is really about.” His tone was sure and steady.

“This world is all new to me still. When I saw your hands all over her, the way you two looked together . . . I just started ticking off all the ways I don’t measure up.”

An angry wave of tension rolled off him and his hands curled around my elbows, locking me in place and pinning me with his eyes. “I’m thankful as shit you don’t fit into this world. You remind me that there’s so much more to life. You’re my something real to grasp on to at the end of the day. You ground me. I love you and that’s not going to change just because I spent the day rolling around in the sand with London for my job.”

My gaze drifted downward.

“Baby.” He lifted my chin again. “It might look glamorous, but my sand chafed balls would disagree.”

I chuckled lightly. “I think I’m ready to go back to the room.”

He nodded. “Then let’s go. I need to wash all this damn bronzer off my skin, too.”

We’d just started back for the hotel when Fiona stepped in our path, her happy little smile pinning Ben. “I wanted to say thank-you,” she purred.

“Uh . . . okay,” Ben said, eyeing her curiously.

“For the baby shower gift. That was very sweet of you, love,” Fiona said, addressing Ben.

He’d gotten her a baby gift?

My body went rigid and I felt Ben’s hand tighten around mine. So much for the promise I’d just made not to run. I felt like fleeing for the moon right about now. Forget that, the moon wasn’t far enough.

“You’re welcome,” he retuned, his tone short but polite.

Fiona sauntered away, her hand resting against her ever-growing belly.

Ben gripped my shoulders, turning me to face him, his face stricken with panic. “I want you to know, I didn’t get her something for her baby. I just chipped in ten bucks toward the office gift. It was a stroller from everyone at Status; it wasn’t just from me.”

“Oh.” I shouldn’t care, should I? She was still his agent. He worked with Status. That meant he was practically required to chip in on the boss’s gift. He was looking at me with the most worried stare. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I placed my palm on his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. She tried to make it sound worse than it was—but that’s to be expected. She’s a bitch.”

A crooked smile overtook his mouth. “So you’re not mad?”

“I would have preferred if you didn’t chip in at all so she wouldn’t have anything to grasp on to, but it’s fine.”

He kissed my lips. “You’re the best. I don’t deserve you and I know that. I handed Gunnar the ten dollars without even thinking. I’ll try to be more aware of this type of thing.”

I hoped his love would be enough to outweigh all the baggage threatening to overwhelm me at every turn.

Ben

The cool blast of air-conditioning inside our room felt terrific. Emmy kicked off her sandals at the door and sunk to the couch. I leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to shower.” I wasn’t kidding about having sand in some pretty undesirable locations.

“Okay.” Her tone was despondent. But reading her subtle signals, and desire to be alone right now, I left her and closed the bathroom door behind me.

Stepping under the spray of hot water, I stood there uselessly, letting it beat down against my back, easing out the tension in my shoulders. I wish I could make Emmy see what she meant to me, help her understand that I wasn’t this way with other women. Ever. She was special, everything I’d ever wanted.

I didn’t hear the bathroom door open, but sensing I was no longer alone I opened my eyes and found Emmy’s big, grayish-blue gaze watching me.

“You need a hand?” Her gaze slid down my naked chest and abs, darting back up just as quickly. Her breath shuddered in a soft inhale.

“If you think you can handle the job.” My voice dropped low and my face stayed impassive.

Emmy’s tongue wet her bottom lip and her nipples pressed against the little cotton camisole she wore. As if taking a moment to think it over, she paused at the threshold to the marble-and-glass–enclosed shower. I remained still, standing in the spray of warm water. All except for my cock, which started to slowly rise in his own salute.

Apparently done thinking, Emmy pulled her shirt over her head and stepped out of her shorts. It took her just a moment to unsnap her bra and kick off her panties and then she was stepping forward, reaching for my outstretched hand.

Knowing the tumultuous start to our trip, I wasn’t about to push her for more right now. But I’d also never deny an opportunity to be close to her, skin to skin. I pulled her to my chest and held her, letting the water soothe us both.

“Did you wash the sand off?” she whispered, standing before me.

“Not yet. I was just enjoying the water.” It took every ounce of control I possessed not to bring my hands up and cup her breasts, rake my thumbs across her perky nipples. I loved the seductive look in her eyes when I took over. But I needed to be in control right now. Everything but my cock had gotten that memo. He was still steadily raising and was brushing past Emmy’s thigh.

She swallowed heavily. “Let me wash you.”

I nodded.

Emmy grabbed a thick washcloth from the shelf mounted to the wall just outside the shower. She wetted it and squirted a generous amount of body wash before lathering the suds. “Turn around,” she commanded, looking determined.

“Yes ma’am.” I turned away and she began scrubbing my back with a firm pressure. I let my head drop forward. Fuck, that felt good.

She continued soaping me up, not missing a square inch as she ordered me to turn and face her then raise my arms. I chuckled as she scrubbed my underarms then dropped them to my sides while she focused on soaping up my chest.

Her touch was so careful, so loving, it stole my breath and left me flooded with emotions I’d never had and couldn’t name. I’d never felt so thoroughly loved and cherished like I did with her. She was the most selfless, sweetest person I knew. Real and true to her core. She wasn’t the type of girl you dated and messed around with for fun. She was a forever type of girl. And the problem was, I wasn’t a forever type of guy. I didn’t know if I was even capable of that level of commitment. She deserved more. And the thought of hurting this beautiful girl and wounding her spirit wasn’t something I ever wanted to do.

She ran the soapy washcloth along my arms and legs before wringing it out and depositing it on the bench seat in the shower. Then she dumped some of the liquid body wash into her palm and began rubbing it over my chest and abs. Her lips were parted and her hair hung in damp strands around her face, sticking to her neck. It look all the willpower I had to stand there and let her wash me.

Emmy’s gaze slipped downward and her hands stopped on my hips. “You’re getting hard,” she murmured.

I looked down to where all her attention was captured. “Quite an accurate observation.” I wanted to take myself in my hand, stroke and tease her, but I remained planted to the shower floor while rivulets of hot soapy water streamed down the length of me.

With a determined look in her eyes, Emmy brought her hands down to my length and gripped me lightly.

Watching her little hands try to stroke me was a beautiful sight. Her fingers slid from root to tip. “Fuck, baby . . .” I brought one hand to the wall, flattening my palm against the tile. “That feels so good.” My voice was a deep rasp in my chest. Blood surged south as I pushed my hips forward to meet her hand’s pumping.

She was still biting that damn bottom lip and watching me with wide eyes. I couldn’t let my seed go to waste on the bottom of the shower floor. I wanted to be inside her. Done watching her play, I spun her around to face the wall.

“Hands up,” I whispered near her ear.

She pressed her hands flush against the wall in front of her.

“Good girl,” I murmured.

I stepped closer, pushing my body against the length of hers, loving the feel of my cock against the soft curve of her ass. I pushed her wet hair over her shoulder, leaning forward to tenderly kiss along the back of her neck and down her spine. I felt her shudder and her body broke out in chill bumps despite the warm water streaming over us both.

I trailed my fingertips down her spine, feeling her shiver and squirm as she anticipated where my hand was heading. Curving my hand between her legs, I found her already slippery and wet. I pushed my middle finger inside of her.

Emmy arched her back, forcing her ass back against me.

“Does that feel good, baby?” I dragged my finger slowly in and out of her.

Her low whimper and the flood of wetness I felt was the answer I needed.

I gripped her ass in my palms, spreading her cheeks and stepped closer, nestling my cock flush with her core. “This ass is so fucking sexy, baby.” I gently squeezed and Emmy let out a soft groan. “You want me inside you?”

“Bennn . . .”

Hearing my name fall from her mouth excited me. And she seemed to use it often, addressing me in that sexy, unsure way she had.

I pushed forward, the head of my cock disappearing into her tight pink opening. “Ah, fuck,” I groaned as I watched myself slip inch by inch deeper inside her.

Emmy pushed her ass out, her hips grinding back against my slow thrusts.

My hands planted themselves on her hips. “Slow down, angel. I don’t want to come yet.”

Snaking one hand around her front, I found her sensitive nub, and though I knew from her frantic, jerky movements that she wanted me to touch her there, I took my time, circling the tender spot to draw out her pleasure. Emmy groaned, her hand closing around my wrist to keep my hand where she wanted it, and my dick went even harder, if that was possible.

Increasing my pace, I pumped my hips against her, pounding into her until I was fully buried. Little gasps escaped her lips as she rested her cheek against the cool tile.

Finally I flicked my fingertips over her clit and her hips bucked forward, working against my hand. “That feel good, honey?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“This pussy’s mine, baby.”

“Yours,” she moaned.

I circled her clit faster until uninhibited moans were tumbling from her mouth, as if her body were an instrument designed for my pleasure. I felt her pussy clamp down around me as her orgasm hit.

“Bennn . . .” she groaned long and low in her husky voice.

“Baby. Ah, fuck . . .” Her body went limp after she came and I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her body up and down on my cock a final few times. Biting into the soft skin on her shoulder, I came in long spurts deep inside her.

Later, once we’d fed each other dinner in bed and were wrapped up snuggly under the sheets, I caressed Emmy’s back, lulling her to sleep.

“Baby?”

“Mmm,” she groaned sleepily.

“About tomorrow’s shoot . . .” I hesitated. Her eyes blinked open and found mine. “The photographer mentioned wanting to get some topless shots of London tomorrow. Nothing too revealing—hands, and limbs would be strategically placed, but still, I wanted to warn you. You might not like what you see.”

“Oh.” She was quiet, but all her attention was trained on me.

“So I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

“Okay.”

I brought my palm to her cheek and lightly stroked her smooth skin. “I’ve called and scheduled you for a session at the hotel’s spa tomorrow. But only if that’s something you want. Otherwise, of course you can come to the shoot. I have nothing to hide. I just want you to be comfortable.”

She thought it over for a minute. “As your assistant, I should be there,” she said, finally.

I took her hand, lightly stroking her knuckles with my thumb. “Yes, but as my girlfriend, I want to make sure you can handle it.” There was more . . . but I didn’t want to upset her. Deciding on complete honesty, I continued, “The set assistant today made some comment about not bringing significant others to the shoot.”

“Oh.” She stiffened. I knew we were both remembering how she’d stormed off across the sand once I’d started shooting with London.

I stroked her hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I should have prepared you better.” Which was true. Swimsuit shoots tended to be sexier, and this one happened to be with my ex. I wasn’t thinking. It was a dickhead move.

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Actually the spa sounds lovely.”

“Good.” I pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Your appointment is at ten.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and then curled herself into my body.