As Hot As It Gets (13 page)

Lucy tugged at her décolletage, making a disgruntled face as she did so.

“Okay, so tell me what I'm supposed to say again.”

“You stay quiet, but if anyone asks, your name is Desiree and you only like girls.”

Claire stopped as she was about to knock on the door. “Are you sure you want to do this, Luc? You can back out now if you want, and I'll just talk to them real quick myself.”

“I'm not leaving you alone!” Lucy's brow scrunched up in her worried-friend look. “You're not getting scared, are you?”

Claire rolled her eyes and feigned confidence. “Of course not. I just don't want you to flub this.”

She was an awful, horrid person, not even remotely deserving of a friend like Lucy, and she made a mental note to buy her a decadent gift as soon as they got off this stinking island.

Claire knocked on the door and a few seconds later, the condom-headed guy jerked it open.

“Let's get this show started,” he said.

Behind him, Claire could see the bachelor party in progress. It reminded her of a scene from an eighties party, complete with half-naked women and more guys wearing giant condoms on their heads. That had to be some kind of safety hazard.

Could all these women be prostitutes? Surely not this many on Mason's private island. Probably they were just guests who felt comfortable wearing almost nothing in a room full of strangers.

It occurred to Claire that she was supposed to be taking charge, not gawking.

“We need payment first,” she said.

The guy's expression transformed from ogling to pissed in an instant. “We already paid the money. Didn't he tell you that?”

“Which ‘he' are you talking about?”

“You know who I mean—the guy on the phone.”

“How'd you pay him, if you only talked to him on the phone?” Claire asked, going out on a shaky limb and praying it wouldn't backfire on her.

“Look, babe. I don't know what's going on here, but you've already gotten paid, so you better get in here and get the show rolling.”

Claire produced a put-upon sigh. “Okay, we've got some kind of mix-up here. You tell me the name of the person you gave the money to, and I'll talk to them, then come back and do the show. How's that?”

“Look,” the condom-head guy said, “this is my best friend's bachelor party. He's getting married tomorrow, and if he doesn't see two lesbians getting it on tonight, I'm gonna be seriously pissed.”

What a loser, it took all Claire's willpower not to point out.

Lucy shot her a stricken look, and Claire raised her eyebrows in a silent plea for her to go along.

This was not playing out like she'd hoped.

“You'll have to take this up with our boss. We always collect the money up front before an act.” Claire started edging away from the door, with Lucy right beside her.

“This is messed up!”

Nearby partiers had taken notice of the argument now and were stopping their conversations to watch and listen. Luckily, the blaring David Lee Roth rendition of “Just a Gigolo” made it impossible for people more than a few feet away to hear them.

“There's no need to get pissy,” Claire said, careful to keep her voice free of the annoyance she felt. “I'll just go talk to—”

“This is some kind of scam, isn't it? You want me to pay you up front, and then you end up with twice the cash. You probably thought I'd be so drunk I wouldn't know the difference, huh?”

Claire took another step back. “Look, I don't tolerate belligerence. I don't care if you did pay. I'm not performing here with the way you're treating us.” She looked at Lucy. “Let's get out of here.”

“No way!” He stepped out into the hallway. “You're not going anywhere until we see some lesbian sex. Got it?”

Next to him, Lucy's expression turned to pure panic.

Claire smiled sweetly, leaned in close, and said, “Go screw yourself,” at the same time that she jammed her heel into the guy's toe.

He howled at the pain, doubling over as he reached for his assaulted foot. “You bitch!”

Claire gave him a shove, and he stumbled backward as Lucy grabbed her wrist and started tugging on her to leave.

“Hey, what's going on over here?” a guy carrying a beer bottle asked as he caught his friend by the arm to keep him from falling.

Lucy pulled her down the hallway, and they ran out the main entrance of the building with the sound of the party still filtering out from the suite. Right
outside the door, they passed by two women clad in black latex who looked like they really were on their way to perform a lesbian sex show.

Lucy and Claire gave each other knowing looks. Outside, resort guests were milling about, so they did a fast walk through the crowd and headed for the rear of the building.

“I'll call security and tell them to check out what's going on in that room,” Claire said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket.

“That was a close call,” Lucy said, still breathless.

Claire was a little dizzy with adrenaline. She'd never meant to put her pregnant best friend in such a precarious situation. The stunt had been beyond stupid. “Yeah, close call.”

She dialed the resort security number she'd seen printed on her Escapade information packet, and told them what she suspected was happening in the suite they'd just left, then hung up the phone.

“I think you could have kicked that guy's butt,” Lucy said, smiling.

“He didn't stand a chance,” she said, trying hard to sound lighthearted. What she'd done had been stupid, stupid, stupid, and she hadn't even learned anything helpful from it.

“I was so scared I almost peed on my harlot dress,” Lucy said as they stopped in front of the hotel building entrance.

An uncontrollable bubble of stress-induced laugh
ter forced itself up. “Me, too,” Claire said between giggles.

“Are you coming up to our room?” Lucy asked.

“No, I want to find Mason now, tell him what we saw today.”

“But—”

“I may not make it to the party,” Claire said. “I'm feeling a little partied out after that whole scene.”

“Me, too.” Lucy gave her a funny look. “If I didn't know better, I might think you were actually smitten with Mason.”

Smitten? Ridiculous.

“But you do know better, so don't even suggest it.”

Claire could bluff all she wanted, but unfortunately, Lucy was pretty astute at reading her emotions. She made the mistake of looking away too soon, and Lucy was on to her.

“You
are
smitten!”

“It's a sex thing, Luc. There's a difference.”

“You keep saying that. I think you're just trying to convince yourself that it's true,” she said as she opened the door.

Sometimes, having such an astute best friend was a real pain in the ass.

M
ASON TOOK IN THE SIGHT
of Claire—her breasts spilling out a red-sequined bra, her waist bare and her hips and thighs hardly covered by a matching fringed skirt—and his body temperature rose.

“Nice costume,” he said. “I thought we were supposed to meet at the party.”

He'd gotten out of his meeting earlier than expected and had just finished putting on his own costume when he'd heard the knock at the door.

“I changed my mind. It's been kind of a crazy afternoon and I was hoping you wouldn't mind skipping the party.”

He stepped aside and let her in, then closed the door. “Crazy for you must be pretty crazy.”

She filled him in on the drunken guest at the bar, then the impromptu crashing of the bachelor party, and he clenched his teeth to keep from spewing profanity.

“Tell me you're joking, that you didn't actually go to the door of a party full of drunken men dressed like this and posing as a prostitute.”

She looked sheepish, possibly a first for Claire. “I could tell you that, but I'd be lying.”

“Claire!”

“No one feels dumber than I do right now, okay?”

“Lucy was in on this, too? I thought at least one of you had some common sense.”

“Nothing happened, we're both fine and I'd really appreciate it if you could stop with the guilt trip. Besides, one good thing came out of it—your security guys probably busted two of the dominatrixes.”

Mason wanted to grab her and squeeze her, hold her close and never let her walk out the door again. Where had this insane protective urge come from? Claire was a grown woman, not one who needed his protection—but if that were true, she wouldn't have been pulling such stupid stunts.

So he did.

He caught her in his arms and pulled her to him. He'd seen her in plenty of bad-girl outfits, and this one was no more or less sexy than the rest, but something else entirely had him wanting to hold her close. He got a little tight in the throat just imagining her in danger.

“Wait.” She tried to pull away from him, but he locked his arms around her waist and held her against him. “Thank you for going to all this trouble for me. I wish you hadn't done it, but I appreciate it.”

“Playing the overprotective type doesn't suit you, Mason.”

“I'm not being overprotective, I'm being sensible.”

“A sensible pirate, hmm?” she said, finally commenting on his costume.

“Guess I got all dressed up for nothing if we're skipping the party.”

“No, definitely not for nothing,” she said, looking him over.

“You like pirates?”

“Mmm, hmm. I've always wanted to be ravaged by a dastardly pirate.”

Mason felt himself stir. It never failed to surprise him how fast Claire could turn him on.

“That outfit looks pretty uncomfortable. Why don't you take it off?”

“How will I get back to my room if I'm not wearing any clothes?” She batted her eyelashes, a complete failure at looking innocent.

“I don't intend to let you leave here once you have your clothes off.”

Her eyes darted to his lips, and when she met his gaze again, she was all mischief. “I think you must have me confused with a girl who's easy.”

He dipped his head and tasted the satin flesh of her earlobe, then whispered into her ear, “The last word I'd use to describe you is easy.”

She laughed and attempted to wriggle out of his grasp. “I'm warning you—you'd better let go of me or you'll regret it.”

“Go ahead, give me your best shot,” he said as he
caught her from behind in his arms, trapping her arms at her sides.

Claire did her best to jab him with an elbow or kick him with her heels, and Mason was surprised at her strength. When she managed to stomp his foot, he lifted her up from the ground and carried her to the couch, where he dropped her and climbed on top before she could kick him anywhere more painful.

“You are the most troublesome woman I've ever met.”

She smiled. “I bet you can't wait until I leave Escapade.”

He ignored the pang in his belly. It was true—part of him couldn't wait for her to leave. And another treacherous part of him couldn't imagine not having Claire around to make him crazy and arouse him like no other woman could.

“You're not going anywhere until you give me what I want.”

She stopped struggling, went completely still. “Which is what?”

“To get you naked and have my way with you.”

“Only if you promise to cure me of my problem tonight.”

“I don't think there's a cure for being a pain in the ass,” he said, and she clocked him on the side of the head.

“I mean, I need you all the way out of my system
before I can leave. So this is it, give it all you've got, and you'll be rid of me for good.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Mason blurted before he could stop to consider what he meant.

“It's a dare,” Claire said, her expression inscrutable.

He silenced her with one hungry kiss, and then another and another. She felt so alive, so hot, so perfect beneath him, he couldn't imagine not having her there.

What if this
was
their last night together? What if he would have this night burned in his memory forever as the last time he made love to Claire? Didn't he want to put an end to their constant tug-of-war? It was hard to imagine why when she slid her hands down his back and gripped his ass, pushed his hips into her as she ground against him.

This was so much more than sexual attraction. This, this, this
thing
between him and Claire—it was out of control.

He stopped, stilled himself on top of her, unsure what to do with his realization.

“You don't want to make me mad,” Claire whispered. “I have a weapon and I know how to use it.”

“What weapon?”

“Sex,” she whispered.

“Mm. You're right, you do know how to use it.”

Claire pushed against his chest until he sat up, and then she climbed on top of his lap and began unfastening his pants.

“Did I ever show that trick I learned from my roommate in college?”

“Your roommate?”

“Off campus. His name was Phil, and he gave legendary blow jobs.”

Mason stared at her, speechless.

“Not to me, obviously. But he showed me his secrets.”

She slid off the couch and between his legs, then freed his erection from his pants and held it in her palm. Mason watched as she dipped her head down, her crimson hair spilling across his belly, and he expelled an involuntary moan when she took him into her mouth.

This. This was what he would miss.

Not Claire herself, right?

No, it was the way she had with his body. The way she took charge, laid claim to him and acted completely without inhibition.

She ran her tongue along the ridge of his cock, then pulled back and let her breath cool him as she stroked his balls. He felt himself tighten, grow more and more ready, as he built up to the inevitable.

When she took him into her mouth again, she worked some magic with her teeth that had him straining against her, every muscle of his body coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest invitation. She increased her pace, sucking, massaging, teasing and then satisfying, pushing him closer to the edge.

But one thought kept occurring to him through the haze of his pleasure: Claire was so much more than he'd expected, so much more interesting than he'd imagined, so much harder to let go of than he'd thought she would be…. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

She quickened her pace more, clearing his mind of all coherent thought, and he buried his fingers in her hair. “Claire,” he gasped. “Don't stop.”

And then she did just that. Just as he was about to spill himself into her mouth, she pulled away, pressed her fingertips strategically against his cock, and prolonged the crazy-sweet sensation of his near-climax.

“You want more?” she asked.

He was both tensed and limp, powerless and ready to spring up and pin her to the floor, push himself into her and properly finish what she'd started.

“You know I do,” he said, his voice strained.

She smiled sweetly. “Then you'll have to come and take what you want, dastardly pirate.”

There was just too much to love about this wild redhead, he thought, as he stood up and stripped off his clothes, his gaze pinned on her.

She simply sat back on the floor, her legs crossed as demurely as possible in the fringed skirt, her sweet ass peeking out the bottom of it.

Too much to love.

“For a woman as ballsy as you, you sure are acting suspiciously passive.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Can't a girl get a little domination when she needs it?”

Mason found a condom in his wallet and put it on, then dropped to his knees and pushed Claire onto her back. “Lose the clothes and leave the sexy heels on,” he said.

He watched her, riveted as she slowly took off her bra and let it slide down her arms until it hit the floor. Her breasts were lush and full, always managing to surprise him with their voluptuousness. Her expression full of mischief, she wriggled out of her skirt and panties, then reclined back on her elbows, wearing nothing but her shoes and a smile.

“Woman, you drive me wild,” he said as he climbed on top of her and pushed her against the ground.

His erection was poised to pierce her where she was the most hot and wet, nearly making him dizzy with desire.

“You want to punish me?”

“If you call this punishment,” he said as he pushed inside her.

All the way, he filled her up. Watched her face transform from mischievous to lost in her own pleasure. With her body stretching and molding to him, her thighs tight around his hips, he couldn't have taken it slow if he'd wanted to. Instead he let the
force of his desire take over as he thrust into her over and over.

With her breasts bouncing, inviting him to get closer, he lowered himself and pinned her hands over her head. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight?”

His hips stilled with his cock buried deep inside her. She squirmed and moaned. “Please,” she whispered.

“You're not such a rebel now that you want something, is that it?”

She strained against his grasp, and he let her go, but only so he could continue, faster and harder, until he could tell by her shallow, quick breathing that she was about to come.

And then he stopped, just as she'd stopped him earlier.

It took all his willpower, and when she squirmed beneath him, tightened her inner muscles around him, he almost lost his last shred of control.

Before he could change his mind, he withdrew.

“Damn you,” she whispered, but her eyes revealed the fact that she was enjoying their game.

Resting on one elbow, he slid his fingers inside her and watched her squirm. Then he dipped his head between her legs and buried his face there. He tasted her, licked her, teased her, drank her in. She was so hot and sweet and wet and delicious, like his favorite dish spread out before him in never-ending supply.

With his fingers pumping inside her, he found her
clit with his tongue and worked her toward the climax she was moaning for. It only took moments, and then she was there. Bucking against him, crying out.

Mason sighed against her, wishing for something he couldn't quite name. And then he was on top of her again, buried within her, crashing into her until his own orgasm was coming on strong.

She locked her legs around his hips and held tight to him and he came closer, closer, and then he was there in the rush of his orgasm. He spilled into her, let himself go.

What if this was their last night together?

The question formed in his mind out of nowhere, and he pushed it aside.

He collapsed beside her and pulled her close, tangled his legs with hers and placed a kiss on her forehead. Out of nowhere, he knew that Claire had become too dear to him, that he'd made a huge mistake in letting her stay at the resort. Instead of working her out of his system, she'd worked herself completely under his skin.

Mason gave himself a mental slap. He was thinking crazy—totally understandable given what they'd been doing minutes ago. He just needed to let go, let Claire leave, and in another day or two maybe there'd be another woman to distract him.

He'd forget all about Claire.

“You look like you're in deep thought.”

“Just wondering if you're cured yet,” he lied.

She sighed, her eyes closed, her expression one of utter relaxation. “Ask me again in ten minutes.”

Mason brushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek. With any luck, curing Claire would take the rest of the night.

 

C
LAIRE ABSOLUTELY
was not cured.

Not even a little bit.

This, she'd realized, was an enormous problem. As Mason had had his face buried between her legs, his tongue working unspeakable magic, she'd had the horrible realization that her entire trip to Escapade had been a waste.

They'd just finished making love again after having ordered room service for dinner and were lying tangled together on the bed, where Claire couldn't imagine leaving. She wanted to stay all night, all morning, all afternoon….

Even worse, she'd been overcome with emotion where Mason was concerned.

Messy, complicated, wild, uncontrollable emotion. And she didn't dare name it for fear it wouldn't go away if she did.

But then, how could she not name it?

Love.

There it was. That emotion she'd gone to great lengths to avoid in recent years. That girlish, giddy rush that she absolutely did not want to have.

She'd accidentally fallen in love with Mason—or
had she? Was it really possible to love someone she didn't want to love? Was it possible to take less than a week of great sex and some good conversation and turn that into a truly meaningful relationship?