Текст книги "The Gideon Affair"
Автор книги: Suzanne Halliday
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Sitting cross-legged on a deck lounger, the sun warmed Paige while she took care of business. Wishing she had a change of clothes instead of her slinky black dress that was wardrobe department perfection for a morning-after walk of shame, she ignored everything going on around her and focused on the issues at hand. But there was only so much she could do from the deck of a Malibu beach house.
The terse conversation with her mother had been a wake-up call but instead of feeling peeved, she kind of got excited about wrestling that beast to the ground. She was a problem solver. People counted on her to put out the fire. Why should this situation be any different? Because she had a starring role? Pfft.
Mickey wanted to hear from her ASAP, and remarkably, Carolyn was using her head and cc’ing Paige what she was handling. The girl was proving to be savvier than her offbeat lifestyle had suggested.
She hadn’t read much else. There had been the usual requests for Gideon’s time and talents and a couple of long-winded dog and pony shows from a production company trying to pique their interest but nothing that required her immediate attention.
A bird flew by overhead. Looking up, she shielded her eyes from the bright sun and caught the glimmer of the diamond sparkling on her finger. An engagement ring. Edward gave her a family heirloom, something that had belonged to his grandmother.
Her heart filled with emotion. He was, at his core, a family guy. Edward wasn’t a player even though he certainly knew how to make it seem like he was. The indulged, kid-in-a-candy-store lifestyle at the beginning of his climb to fame hadn’t lasted long. Thank god and despite an early string of starlets and models, he’d been less a man-whore with each passing year.
She wasn’t completely dense. Pussy was still pussy, and a blowjob was practically Hollywood currency. But unless he was scoring top-secret strange in some alternate universe she didn’t have twenty-four-seven access to, it had been quite a long time since there’d been even the hint of a female in his life. Gideon’s life, anyway, because, besides her, nobody was in Edward’s life.
He was worried about her, and she felt bad about the way she’d initially resisted Moira and Mickey. It all came at her too fast, and she hadn’t had time to put the changes in her relationship with Edward into perspective before being sucked into the Gideon Affair. What a difference a day made.
Leaving the sunshine behind, she headed into the house in search of him. Managing was what she did. It was up to her to show him that she was handling the weirdness they found themselves in before he worried to death.
“I’m not sure, Dad. Probably a week. I want to take Paige to Denver first. There’s a hotel there she’d like to visit. Yeah.” He chuckled. “That one. A bunch of art, blah, blah, blah.”
She paused in the study doorway and leaned against the doorjamb enjoying the way he spoke to his dad. Steven was one of the good guys. So were his sons, and Edward adored his father. The man had been an excellent role model.
“Really?”
Paige heard a note of real surprise in the word. She wondered what had so affected him.
He followed up with a cheerful laugh. “No, nothing Marsh does ever really shocks me. How long’s this been going on?”
Marshall. Of course. Edward’s younger brother. The free spirit with a head full of dreams and a list of adventures to go on a mile and a half long. She smiled. Marsh was easy to like, and Paige knew that despite the half-assed dead head reputation he had, the guy was impressive smart. Like almost Big Bang Theory smart. She was in no way surprised to learn he was up to something. Good for him, whatever it was.
There was a bit more back and forth, and then, without warning, he turned and looked at her. She hadn’t moved a muscle, but he’d known she was there. He patted the sofa next to him and gestured for her to sit.
“We were thinking about driving an RV from there. Next stop Wyoming and then on to Montana when the movie is ready to shoot.”
Paige curled up next to him and put her head on his shoulder while his arm draped about her.
“Dad, listen … we’ll catch up later. For now, just chill. I have this. You and Mom aren’t to worry, okay? Paige and I have some stuff to sort out on this end and then we’re heading out. Let’s just keep that in mind and all the other stuff will blow over in time.”
After a round of I love yous and a few more jokes, the call ended. “Did you tell them?”
“Actually, no I didn’t. The story and pictures were enough for the moment. Did you tell your folks?”
“Uh … not really. Mom wasn’t listening anyway. I sorta promised we’d go for a visit. Thought we could do it then.”
He hugged her tight. “You do know it won’t take long for the news to get out. Right?”
“Could say the same to you,” she murmured into his neck. He didn’t respond so she sat up and gave him a questioning look. He said there were pictures. And a story. Maybe she’d better check it out.
“I need to get changed, and we should FaceTime Mickey before he has a stroke. So, how do you want to do this? I can call for a car, take care of business, and meet you later.”
“No.”
That shut her up. Oookay, then.
“I’ll take you home. We can contact M from there. Just let me grab my laptop and change my shirt and we can leave.”
He knew something, and he wasn’t saying anything. Well, she’d have none of that.
“Tell me. And don’t paraphrase.”
He wedged into the corner of the sofa, tilted his head on the back, and stared at the ceiling. “The FBI raided Alan Sperry’s ranch yesterday. They’ve detained him on trafficking charges. There were drugs and guns, too.”
“Oh, my god.”
“Right?”
“What does that mean?”
He sat forward and leaned his forearms on his thighs. For a good minute, he said nothing and just stared at his clasped hands. “I don’t know. That part came out of left field, so we’ll have to wait and see what happens next.”
“Okay. But you said there were pictures. And a story. Care to clue me in?”
“Shadow Gossip dot com ran their lame ass story. Their spin was that Phae, Joann, and I were in a love triangle. The usual insinuation about that fucking tape was in the story. Apparently, it's Phae and me now.” His disgusted shrug was to be expected.
“Then, this morning, as if it had all been planned, the Sperry story broke and so did pictures of us from Nobu. Right on schedule, Caro let it slip to some blabbermouth she knew at the gym that her two bosses were doing the nasty. Class performance from that one ‘cause everyone thinks we have a disgruntled employee to deal with. Didn’t take long for the goddamn dots to connect. Caro’s bosses, Gideon’s mystery dinner companion, Phae, Joann, our movie, and Alan Sperry. All tied up in one neat package.”
“Wow.”
“The press went after your folks, huh? Got mine too, the bastards.”
“Oh, jeez. Whatever. That’s minor compared to an FBI raid. Didn’t see that coming. So, what happens now?”
“I deliberately avoided M until we had a chance to talk. In one of his fifty texts, he pressed us to go public and I wasn’t sure what you’d think about that.”
“You weren’t’ sure what your fiancée would think, or you weren’t sure what your assistant would say?”
“Both. This isn’t how we thought things would go. If Perry lets Alan go down, and no one would fault him if he did, that probably means the movie is toast. I don’t care one way or the other, but Phae gets screwed big time, and Joann, well, we already don’t give a shit about her.”
“Sweetie. That’s all Gideon stuff and honestly,” she mimed, “with one hand behind my back and a dead battery. Understand?”
“You’re right. Whatever. Gideon Shaw is on his own.” He snickered. “Let’s take that sparkler you’re wearing out for a spin and get you some clothes. And some food. I’m feeling an In and Out burger for lunch.”
She started running for the door, laughing at his amused expression. “Animal fries, a chocolate milkshake, and I’m in!”
One Week Later …
A dinner roll went whizzing by his head, landing on a counter behind him. “I said I needed some peace … not asked if you wanted a piece.”
“No use in crying foul, babe. You asked for it.”
Yes, she had to admit. That was undeniably true. They were on hyper drive with the clever wordplay, both finding it endlessly amusing to turn practically every word and phrase into something lewd and suggestive. As she was setting the table for dinner, she’d casually remarked how much she was looking forward to their road trip. The peace she referred to by getting away from it all quickly morphed into a piece. Of ass. Hers. The result had been an overcooked chicken and a pan of biscuits that could double as weapons because they were so hard.
She wasn’t complaining. At all. Why would she? It was thrilling to have a seriously hot and sexy guy trying to get inside you morning, noon, and night. In the span of one week, she’d had more sex, and in more unusual places, than should be possible. And it wasn’t all him, either.
Just the other day, she’d taken him by complete surprise while he was building her a pergola at the WeHo house. She’d been watching from the kitchen window while he got all sweaty swinging a hammer. Ate an entire Dove bar in the process. When the t-shirt came off, she was out the door in seconds.
Marching right up to him, she’d taken the hammer from his hands, dropped it on the ground, taken him by the hand, and dragged him inside. Where prying neighbors couldn’t see.
Unbuckling and removing his tool belt had been all kinds of sexy. But going to her knees to concentrate on the zipper and button of his jeans had been hotter than hell.
His hip tattoo got all her attention that time. Once she got his pants off and he was stark naked with a ferocious hard-on, she let her fingers, lips, and tongue get intimately acquainted with the sexy ink. It was in the right zone, after all.
She found out a helluva lot about the black tribal marking that time. Like how it swept over a hip, down his groin, and seemed to disappear in the hair that framed his penis. But the surprise was how low and far the ink went. Like right into the seam where thigh joined torso, curving lower until the pattern abruptly ended near his balls.
That had to have hurt, so like the wanton little fiancée she’d become, Paige set about making his poor shlong forget the trauma of a tattoo gun. And she wasn’t sure which one of them liked the occasion more. Her or him.
It came as something of a surprise to realize that with Edward, she eagerly went down on him—no excuse needed. She just liked it. A lot. After all, his shaft was a masterpiece, and it took about ten seconds to realize that when she got into it, it was all kinds of hot to suck him off to completion. Nobody came like he did—not in the movies, not in books, and not in any porn she’d seen.
Shoving the pan of useless, overbaked chicken aside, she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and sneered playfully.
He was trying not to smirk, but it was useless. Wrapping her in a big hug, he reached for her ass and squeezed. “Come on, frowny face, admit it. Dinner might be ruined, but ya gotta give it up for multiple orgasms.”
They’d weathered the storm, more or less, and managed to go quietly about their business despite the overbearing presence of the paparazzi and the gotcha techniques they used.
Perry Waterman had severed ties with his business partner the minute the FBI raid went public. Mickey said it was evident from how swiftly Waterman’s team moved after the story broke that they knew either what was coming or perhaps even had been the ones who’d tipped off the feds. Mostly, Perry seemed relieved. His associates dealt with the media scrutiny with impressive professionalism.
She’d reached out to Phaedra Bellamy. The poor girl was being dragged through some icky stuff, and she wanted to help. Mickey proved what a stellar human being he was when he volunteered to get Moira on her side. Alan Sperry’s trafficking charges exposed a scary, dark world where young girls, and guys too, were traded as commodities and forced into high-end sexual slavery in the world of mansions, private jets, and yachts in the Mediterranean.
Paige hadn’t realized that Phae was only nineteen, about to turn twenty. She handled herself so well that her age wasn’t important. But the press liked to spin and spin and spin when it came to salacious gossip, turning Phae into the presumed target of the traffickers. That wasn’t exactly true. Alan had wanted her for himself, as a toy he could share with his butt buddies, Markus and Joann. What a fucking mess.
But they were leaving in a few days for Denver and from there, their schedule was wide open. A weather snafu in Montana had moved the start of filming to the beginning of September, so Edward and she decided to go full monty with the RV rental. Just like when they researched Wyoming properties, they’d spent hours together doing research online for the right vehicle.
Nothing too big or flashy—after all, part of the fun was doing the whole RV camping thing. They didn’t want their ride to scream CELEBRITY, so they eventually settled on a motorcoach that wasn’t big and ostentatious but also wasn’t tiny and cramped. And best of all? It was a Thor motorhome, which started a thousand jokes, one-liners about Thor’s mighty hammer, and Asgard with loads of emphasis on the ‘ass.’ She could not wait.
Booking a private jet to take them from Los Angeles to Denver was probably overkill—it wasn’t that long a trip—but the expense had been worth the experience. Especially with his cool-as-a-Popsicle assistant and fiancée pretending to be his personal flight attendant. After takeoff, when they were able to move around, she’d served him lunch complete with a linen napkin meticulously placed on his groin, adjusting it several times, in fact, until it was just right. She even flashed him—wearing white lace boy-short panties—and calmly inquired if he’d be requiring access to the cockpit during their flight.
He’d very nearly choked on his sandwich.
A huge weight lifted once they left L.A. behind. He was sick of the constant paparazzi presence wherever they went. Paige was handling it better than he was, having acquired this Zen-like attitude and an empty smile that the gossip sites found boring after a while. She never reacted to any of the trash talk the photogs used to force a camera-worthy reaction out of them.
Only once, when that shithead blogger who tried to one-up him had gone digging in her past, had she reacted at all. Getting her contact info had been easy. The studio gave it out all too freely, and from there, Dave what’s-his-name had a field day. Since there wasn’t anything lurking in Paige’s personal story that smelled like a scandal, he wrote a callow piece that disregarded her Cornell degree and focused instead on her high school cheerleading career. Publishing her yearbook picture and another one of her in full seventeen-year-old cheerleading glory had set her off. Big time.
He had done the sensitive guy thing and let her vent, then roasted her nonstop with every cheerleader joke and meme he could find. He smiled remembering how he’d teased her endlessly until she gave up, threw in the towel, and went through a private and very memorable performance of a dozen different cheers. He had no idea she’d been a rah-rah girl.
Though the chartered Gulfstream was comfortable, there wasn’t a guarantee of privacy or enough room for them to make love in the air. So they settled on the sofa with Paige quite boldly straddling his lap while they played Kill, Fuck, Marry and laughed their asses off.
“Have fun with this one. Thor, Captain America, and Tony Stark.”
“Seriously?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Patsy and I did this one a couple of times, so the answer is easy.”
“That’s what they all say.” He pinched her butt and grinned when she yelped. “Start choosing or I’ll call for default.”
“Okay, smartass. Here goes. Tony Stark gets killed ‘cause if anyone could figure out how to come back from the dead, it’s him. Then Thor, of course, gets the fucking. A chance to try out the hammer of the gods? Pfft. Where’s the choice, hmm? Which leaves Captain America suited up at the altar because, of the three, he’s the best husband material.”
Not bad. Not bad at all. “Bravo, Miss Turner. Well done. Now me. Give it your best shot.”
She peered at him and chuckled. “Princess Leia, Hermione Granger, and … Black Widow.”
“You’re a cruel, heartless bitch.” He had a thing for all three. Served him right for telling her that.
She rocked and rolled on his lap with a wicked giggle, reaching between them to stroke his cock through his pants. “So you’ve said. Now quit stalling and kill someone.”
“Damn. All right. Um, Black Widow has to die, I’m afraid. She’d kick my ass without breaking a sweat and my ego can’t have that.”
Paige laughed with real glee. “Continue.”
“I think I’d have to fuck Leia because she’d have some otherworldly shit going on and could probably teach me a few Tatooine sex moves.”
“I like the way you think, Mr. Banning. Always eager to learn new things.”
“Which leaves me Hermione to marry. For the same reason Captain America got the nod, she’d be the most loyal and would be a great mother. And that brain of hers? Shit, babe. All the smarty stuff turns me on.”
“Oh, great. So the most talented witch of her age is my rival? She could leviosa me without blinking an eye. How the hell can I compete with that?”
He knew one way. “Take your panties off, sweetheart. You won’t need them.”
Her face turned in the direction of the closed cockpit. “Really?”
“We’re forty minutes into a two-hour flight. I think we’re good.”
Like the queen of all she surveyed, his fiancée floated off his lap with fluid, ladylike grace and presented before him.
“As you wish, sir,” she snorted playfully. “Full cabin service is part of the charter experience.”
Twirling his finger in the air, Edward looked her up and down as if she was marked for sale and drawled, “You know the drill. Turn around.”
Paige laughed gleefully. “My ass is not on the menu, Mr. Banning.”
“I know. We’re saving that for our Ass-Gardian adventure.”
Her eyes flared, but she didn’t react to the taunt in any other way. Slowly turning, she glanced over her shoulder for good measure. “Just checking to make sure I have your full attention.”
He grabbed his dick and rubbed suggestively, making the bulge tenting his slacks more prominent. “Oh, Miss Turner, rest assured, you have my full, hard attention.”
Watching her peel the white lace off her ass and down her thighs, after a quick shimmy to dislodge them from between her legs, made his mouth go dry. Jesus god. Her ass was spectacular and those legs … they did him in every time. Keeping them straight, she bent over completely and made a show of stepping out of the flimsy underwear.
Before she straightened, Edward sat forward; flipping the skirt she wore up till her bare bottom was revealed, he stroked the soft skin of her haunches. Bent over as she was, legs slightly spread as she gripped her ankles and barely kept from wiggling her ass, he had the most fantastic view of her pussy.
“Face me,” he growled. Her expression when she turned around almost made his cock split the fabric of his pants to get to her. “Come closer.”
He watched her face as he put his hands on the insides of her legs and raised them till they disappeared beneath her skirt. She was breathing erratically, her pupils dilating, and if he was right, she was already dripping for him.
“Put your hands behind your back and keep them there.” His tone was rough and demanding. She didn’t waver or balk at his command.
The play of emotions on her face as he played with her wet folds ensured this was going to be quick and probably dirty as fuck. Aggressively fingering her while she tried to stay on her feet was incredibly hot. Neither of them had the luxury of time.
When he was sure she was close to coming, he gruffly demanded she get ready to be fucked, freed his fat erection from his clothes, and pointed at it. “Get on. No hands.”
She slid forward, straddling his thighs while he held his cock in position. He pulled the hem of her skirt up with his free hand so he could watch. And then she lowered onto his throbbing staff like a goddamn prima ballerina. Once he was deep inside her and she was swooning on his lap, he closed his eyes and groaned.
Paige immediately started to rise thinking he wanted her to ride him, but he stopped her in mid-motion. “No.” When she was back in position, he told her, “Just rock back and forth. Real slow, honey. Nothing sudden. Just feel my cock filling you up. When I tell you to, I want you to squeeze me as hard as you can. Understand?”
No answer was necessary. Not while she slowly undulated and drove them both quickly to the edge. When she stopped and bowed her head, gasping for breath, he knew she was fighting the orgasm her body craved.
“Look at me, Paige. I want to watch when you come.”
“Oh, Edward,” she groaned. “Don’t make me wait.”
Pfft. As if. It was a fucking miracle he was still in control. “It’s time, baby. When you rock forward, squeeze as hard as you can. Not for long. Just tighten and release.”
She did as he asked, keeping her eyes on his as she rocked on his cock and squeezed the fucking crap out of it with her crazy muscles. He’d had enough. So had she. Reaching under her skirt, he focused on her expression as his fingers moved unerringly to the swollen bundle of nerves wet with her desire.
Seriously. He fucking loved her clit. Loved looking at it, loved stroking it, and especially loved sucking on it. Rolling the plump nub between his fingers, he set a rhythm that countered her movements. Each time she stopped squeezing then he would rub and tweak.
She came so fast and so hard that all he could do was grunt in surprise and then follow her in to a mutual climax that was completely wrong for where they were.
When she eventually climbed from his lap, he gallantly helped her step back into her panties, leering like a sex fiend knowing the white lace was going to get pretty sticky. This was the best part—almost—of having a clean bill of health and being able to fuck without a barrier. He got off on coming inside her, filling that luscious pussy with his pleasure.
There wasn’t a lot of talking after that. Mostly, she snuggled against him and sighed from time to time. No words were required.
“Oh, my god!” Paige exclaimed under her breath as the elevator took them to their mountain view suite. “Did you notice how easy our arrival and check-in was? Edward, this place is fantastic, and I don’t even like modern art.”
If it wouldn’t make her look like a fool, she would have skipped down the hallway when the elevator doors opened. The unusual approach to an urban hotel without coming off like a dilapidated relic or an über exclusive and therefore mostly inaccessible luxe establishment floated her boat in a big way. It was not enough anymore to give the people what they wanted when you could give them something they didn’t know they needed. That was how you were successful. By understanding your product or brand and keeping it fresh.
The unique approach of the Art hotel reminded her of the idea she’d been stitching together for the last year or so. Something equally as unique but on a much, much smaller scale.
In their room, she inspected every inch, each light switch, and every window. The linens, towels, bath products. Even the brand of toilet paper while Edward watched silently amused.
“Where do you want to honeymoon?” he asked.
What? Honeymoon? Oh boy, that was right. Some sort of honeymoon would be in order after they married, and it was just like him to make it all about her. She thought for a moment, considered everything and anything that would make her betrothed happy, and came up with an answer.
Paige liked their serious conversations to unfold when she could touch him, so she went and threw her arms around his neck and pushed both hands into his hair.
“Have you ever seen those private bungalows that sit on the water in Bora Bora?” She felt the interest course through his body. Bingo, sweetie.
She knew a little bit about Bora Bora. Patsy had gone last year and raved nonstop. Taking from what she remembered, a laundry list of manly-man activities rambled from her mouth.
“The idea of honeymooning in tropical French Polynesia is romantic enough but the stuff we could do? Hashtag … are you kidding? There’s snorkeling, scuba, and jet skis. Kite surfing, paddleboards, and catamarans. We could get GoPro cameras and make a home movie! You could direct. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”
While all those things were cool, she’d hit the daily double with the GoPro idea. Tell Edward he could direct, and it didn’t matter that it was a home movie; he’d be in full storyboard mode before the hour was out.
“Does this ocean getaway include bikinis?”
She laughed and hugged him. “Sure, but don’t you think you’re a little, uh, manly … for a tiny bathing suit?”
“Ha-ha,” he teased. “You know damn well I meant you, and it was a dumb question, so don’t bother with another snappy comeback. If Bora Bora it is, babe, then you have to let me choose your swimwear. You’re to pack nothing. I’ll handle it. It’ll be a bridal gift from your husband on our honeymoon.”
“You’re entirely too nice, you know. How come you’re so good to me?”
“Easy, sweetheart. I have to be because where else am I gonna find a clever smartass with a deliciously foul mouth who won’t take my shit, thinks Gideon Shaw is a yawn, and drops to her knees every time I unbuckle my belt?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, dashing from his arms in search of her luggage. “Speaking of belts, check this out.”
Pawing through the smallest of her bags—she had packed for a long road trip, after all—she pulled out a contraption that vaguely resembled a belt and waved it in his face.
“What the fuck is that?”
She understood his laughter. The piece of leather wasn’t long enough to fit a man’s waist and two leather loops and what looked like ties of some kind hung from it.
“This, my darling, is a wrist restraint.” She demonstrated how it worked. “Hands go through the loops, and the ties adjust the size. Then the loops move on the leather strap, so they’re close together or arm’s length apart.”
“What’s the hole for?”
He was certainly paying close attention. “Oh, that. Well, I think what you do with that is use it as a way to add another piece, like a strap or some rope. Think, headboard with slats.”
“Oh, you mean like tied to the bed? I’m intrigued, babe. Didn’t think you’d get into something like that. Not without a shit-ton of coaxing or the bribe of a year’s supply of ice cream.”
She laughed and laughed, as the leather strap went back into her bag. “Oh, sweetie. That’s not for me, silly. It’s you who’s gonna be leather bound."
His response surprised and excited. “I’ll let you tie my hands but not to the bed. That contraption could be fun as long as you wear a blindfold.”
The possibilities were intriguing.
“Think about it. Each of us gives up a sense. I can’t touch and you can’t see. The deprivation heightens the other senses.”
Oh, my word. This RV trip was going to be memorable and then some.
