He’d had to call Damien, too, of course. He and Baxter had both come to London to oversee various security related issues at the London Stark Tower and at the hotel. And protecting Gabby was decidedly not on that particular Stark International agenda. Ryan hadn’t expected his friend to object, and he’d been right. Both Ryan and Baxter could still oversee the work. And at the same time, hopefully, they would save an innocent woman.
“What?” he asked, noticing the way Jamie was looking at him, her head cocked as she ran her teeth over her lower lip.
“Nothing.” She held out her hand, and he eyed her warily.
“What?” he repeated, and she just thrust her hand out more forcefully until he conceded and took it.
“Good man,” she said, then turned and tugged him toward the balcony, then pointed to the outdoor sofa. “Sit.”
“I do love a woman who knows what she wants.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” she said, then stood in front of him as she slowly pulled off the T-shirt she wore. She dropped it on the tiled balcony, then grinned at him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which he knew, but seeing her now, with her jeans hugging her curves and her nipples tight and her face full of mischief and longing…well, it just about undid him.
“What are you doing, Kitten?”
“We’re alone. You’ve had a long and stressful day and it’s not even dinnertime. I thought a little de-stressing was in order.”
“Is that what you thought?” he asked, stretching his arms out so they rested on the back of the sofa.
“Uh-huh,” she said. But it was more than that, of course. This was about guilt. About Jamie seeing inside him and knowing what he was battling. There was no way she could fix the past, but she could give him this in the present.
And damned if he didn’t love her for it.
She shimmied out of her jeans and panties, then stood there in front of him, entirely naked. There was nothing obstructing the view behind her, and he could see London laid out in front of them, the Eye rotating slowly against a stunning blue sky.
But even that view seemed shabby compared to the woman herself.
She came closer and pressed her fingertip over his lips, silently ordering him to stay quiet. Then she reached down and unfastened his slacks so she could free his already steel-hard cock. She stroked him slowly, her eyes on his, as the ever-present embers between them grew to a full-fledged blaze.
He started to speak, but she shook her head. She took her hand away, then straddled him, holding his shoulders as she moved back and forth, her slick pussy stroking his cock in a way that was taking him closer and closer to the edge.
She kept that motion up as she lifted her hands from his shoulders to her tits. She tugged on her nipples, making the hottest fucking sounds while she teased and played, and he grew harder, as if that were even possible.
And then, God help him, she slid one hand down to stroke her clit. She started slow, in time with the rocking motion of her hips. But then she moved faster, making those noises he loved and arching back as she rocked and touched in a frenzy of motion until she was bringing both of them right to the edge, so close he knew that he was going to lose it any second, and although he wanted to fuck her so damn badly, this felt incredible.
“That’s it,” she said. “I want you to come like this. I want to take you there.” As she spoke, her hand closed over the base of his cock and with only two more strokes, he was gone. The heavens opened up, he arched back, and he exploded all over her ass and his own goddamn pants.
It was fucking bliss, especially when she dropped to her knees and licked his cock clean before looking up at him impishly. And there, naked on her knees with his come on her chin, she grinned and said, “Sometimes I like to be the one in charge.”
Damn, but he loved this woman.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as Baxter and Gabby return, Hunter gets them set up in our newly expanded room. It turns out that the connecting room is one of those middle rooms for when a group wants one large suite—in the case of the penthouse, one even larger suite. It’s huge, with a kitchen, a seating area that includes a sofa bed, and a giant table that can be used for conferences or large dinners.
Beyond that is another connecting room of the more standard variety. One living area with a king-size bed, one bathroom, and one stunning view of London.
“So this is your room,” Ryan tells Gabby, indicating the bed. “And Baxter’s going to camp in the middle area on the sofa bed. He’ll keep you safe, I promise. And you know where Jamie and I will be.”
She shoots Baxter a shy smile and murmurs thanks.
“Happy to help,” he says, and it’s probably my imagination, but I think he might actually be blushing.
I don’t have time to explore that possibility, however, because he and Ryan are heading out to make sure that things are progressing smoothly on the Stark International side of things.
While Gabby unpacks, I take the opportunity to go upstairs. I’ve hardly been there at all, and it’s seriously impressive. With a grand piano, an incredible bar, and a huge dining table that I imagine doubles as an elegant conference center. There’s also a sunken living area with a seriously impressive media center. So impressive that I have to talk myself out of chilling with a movie.
Instead, I remember my own Hollywood goals, set myself up at the yacht-sized table, and shoot off a quick email to Carson Donnelly, the director who’s been making noises about casting me. Not an opportunity I want to screw up, but there is also no way I’m going home until I know that Gabby is safe and this whole mess has been cleaned up.
Since explaining this to him would take about as long as writing the based on a true story screenplay, I just tell him it’s a family emergency, but that I’m ready to talk by email or phone whenever he is.
Then I cross my fingers.
I also call Nikki and leave a quick update for her. After Ryan and Baxter talked to Damien, Ryan told me it was okay to fill Nikki in. Though I’m sure Damien’s probably already done most of that. Still, I want to give her my take on the whole thing. And I promise that I’ll get Gabby to call her as well.
Those niceties attended to, I settle into real work and pull up the rough cut of my most recent celebrity interview. I’d already texted Matthew to let him know in a wholly vague way that things had gotten crazy in London. As a result, rather than look at the footage together, we’re working separately and then comparing notes.
I go through frame by frame, making a zillion detailed notes that are probably going to drive the editing team crazy, but that I think will step the production up a notch. I’m deep in it when Gabby joins me with her own laptop.
“I prefer paper research,” she comments as she gets settled. “But since I left the States in a rush, I didn’t have time to gather anything. Fortunately, I’ve scanned or photographed almost all my research, but now I have to read it on my tiny screen.” She points to the tablet that she’s set up next to her laptop.
“Knock yourself out,” I say, pointing to the monster TV. “Project all your documents up there.”
“Oh, good idea.” She glances behind her to the bar, then turns back to me with a grin. “I bet it’s well stocked.”