“Oh my Lord but you are appreciated, David Chance. My God.” She threw back her head and arched into his body as she climaxed again. “Please, oh please don’t stop,” she moaned against his throat.
“I have no intention of stopping.” His growl was deep and breathy against her temple as he obliged her desperate need to be filled.
“You are my magnificent, wonderful, amazing champion,” she whispered against his ear and he seemed to find yet more energy in his flagging reserves.
The feel of her sweet, hot body claiming his with every deep, needy stroke left him breathless and eager for her climax, which would clamp her sweet, tight pussy around his cock and drive him over the edge into oblivion. And when she came apart in his arms and nipped his neck in her delirious orgasm, he drove himself deep and released, panting as he nearly lost the ability to stand.
God, how he wanted this woman, how he loved the feel of her desire for him. He would have to go slowly and not scare the hell out of her.
Chapter Eight
They took the guys to the airport the following morning and David handed each of them a thick envelope jammed full of stills and candids from the two days in Chicago, along with his e-mail address and signed copies of Sam’s latest book.
Sam gave Joe her cell phone number and told him to keep in touch. She had really enjoyed his company.
David watched her as she hugged the young man and kissed his cheek and gave him the paper with her number on it. When she turned back to him and sighed, he noted the sad look in her eyes. “You still have the hots for that kid?” he asked softly.
Her eyes widened and she lifted her chin a little as she replied coolly, “That kid is a sweet guy. And I never had the hots for him.”
“You gave him your number.”
“You gave him your e-mail address. Have you got the hots for him?” She glowered up into his face as his frown changed to a slow grin.
“Maybe. He’s sort of a hunk in a gangly, skinny sort of way.” He mimicked her tone.
“I always thought you guys liked rolling around the mat with other guys for some darker reason.”
Her frown was adorable and he chucked her under the chin as he bent close to her face. “Come on now. We have an appointment to keep and we have to get all the way downtown.”
“Downtown?”
“That’s where the papers are that we’re gonna sign. Unless you’ve changed your mind.” His dark gaze pinned hers.
Sam shook her head. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. I was just hoping you’d changed yours.”
“Not a chance, Ms. Hastings.”
“I was afraid you would say that.” She climbed back into the limo and David told the driver to take them to an address in the heart of Chicago’s business district.
“How would you like to spend the next three weeks in Barbados?” he asked softly, lifting her hand to kiss it slowly as his thumb massaged her palm.
“Barbados? What’s in Barbados?”
“Beautiful beaches, gorgeous water, warm sun and the Presidential Suite at the Hilton Barbados.” His voice was quiet. His eyes searched her face.
“Sounds more like a honeymoon than a wrestling tour.”
“Exactly.”
She thought she’d heard him right but that last word made her blink and turn to look up into his face with a confused frown. “Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘exactly’?”
David cleared his throat and seemed suddenly nervous. When he spoke again, he said quietly, “This is just a legal agreement, Sam. I had my attorney draw it up. I want to be certain you don’t fly off and leave me high and dry again.”
She wet her lips and gazed at him, almost afraid to ask what he meant. “Enlighten me, David. I hate nasty surprises.”
His lips curved wickedly. “I would hope this surprise wouldn’t be considered ‘nasty’. I…had my attorney draw up a Memorandum of Understanding.”
“A Memorandum of Understanding? Like a legal contract? About me being your sex slave for six months?” Her eyes widened then narrowed.
David coughed and shook his head. “I don’t think that that would hold much water in a court of law, Sam. It has to be a proper Memorandum of Understanding between us.”
One hour later, Sam sat staring numbly at her copy of the agreement that she had just signed in front of a notary at the attorney’s office.
Her mind spun and her heart clenched to think that she had just legally agreed to live with him “for a period not to exceed six months”, at the end of which time either or both parties could decide to end the arrangement without any legal encumbrances or remuneration from the other etc., etc.
In effect, a trial marriage.
The lump that sat in the pit of her stomach should have been a bubble of joy. This agreement insured that neither she nor Phyllis would be liable to a lawsuit at the end of the agreement, no matter how it turned out.
Was she legally married? Hardly. She had agreed to live with David Chance until he grew weary of the arrangement and freed her by signing a release that guaranteed he would allow Samantha Hastings and her publisher the use of his face, body, name and so on and so forth insofar as the six books that were already completed were concerned. The catch was, if she wanted out before the six months were up, he could hit her and her publisher and business manager with the promised lawsuits.
She hadn’t said “I do”, and neither had David. But in effect, it would be damn near the same as being married. David had made the “honeymoon” reservations in Barbados under the names “Mr. and Mrs. David Chance”. As if he owned her. He was behaving like a small boy who’d snagged the last chocolate chip cookie from the jar, and was relishing that first bite.
The problem was, she couldn’t help but feel a little excited as well.
Chapter Nine
The limo driver grinned when David handed him a hundred dollar bill. As he escorted her across the lobby to the elevators, he nodded toward the restroom they had used and asked softly, “You want a quickie before we go up?”
“I want a proper bed tonight. I want to be fed well, and I want to have champagne and strawberries and the whole works.” She gazed at him archly, trying very hard not to sound breathless.
He kissed the tip of her nose and waved to the front desk clerk, who hurried over.
“The lady wants champagne and strawberries.”
“Already in your apartment, Mr. Braza.”
“And the rest?”
“All taken care of, sir.” David shoved a hundred into his hand as well and grinned at him.
“Good work. I might get laid after all.”
Sam blushed and slugged him in the ribs, without even getting him to acknowledge the punch. “You are terrible. I don’t think that poor man will ever stop blushing,” she rasped.
“Never underestimate the power of a blush. I happen to think a woman who blushes is completely sexy.”
He drew her into the elevator as the door closed and he picked her up from the floor again to kiss her hungrily, his body back in the zone.
“There are cameras in the elevators, David!” she gasped as he started to run one hand up under her tank top.
“A bunch of peeping toms, huh?” He grinned up at the small camera lens that was barely visible in the corner and he reached up and jerked it loose, turning the lens toward the roof of the car. “Now, where was I?” he growled.
She was laughing so hard she could barely get her breath by the time the elevator doors opened on the foyer outside the penthouse. Her jeans were unzipped and he had managed to get her bra unhooked in the elevator. “David. You have me half undressed and we haven’t even gotten inside the apartment.”
“Okay. I’ll humor you that far.” He swung her off the floor into his arms and she gasped as he bent his head to kiss her with all the steamy passion he had shown before. He slid his card key in the slot and kicked the doors inward. Before he put her down, he kissed her for several minutes, until she was so eager to have him, she was panting.