Release the Stars (17 page)

“You’re tickling me,” Charlie complained.

“Too soft a touch for you, huh? I’ll remember that.” Mischief shined in Ava’s eyes. She worked her way up to Charlie’s breasts and kneaded them ever so softly, her caresses aided by the foam. Charlie’s clit pulsed between her legs like a second heart. She might not be coming in her pants, but she was well on her way to a hands-free orgasm if Ava kept this up.

Charlie leaned against the glass wall, panting, hands above her head. Some of the foam transferred to Ava’s body and the bright white color of the bubbly soap against Ava’s caramel skin made Charlie’s mouth water.

Meanwhile, Ava washed—though that was too generous a description for it—Charlie by letting her hands drift across her skin the way they did when they made love.

“Keep your hands up,” Ava said. “Spread your legs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie joked.

Ava stopped abruptly. “Am I
too
bossy? I have no desire to be called ma’am.” Her face was serious.

“I was just kidding.” Charlie shot Ava a quick wink.

“I guess we’ll have to talk about this at some point, but not now.” Ava went back to work, and her hands migrated to Charlie’s ass. “Turn around,” she said.

Charlie spun around and kept her legs spread. She was glad for the respite of being able to look away from Ava for a few minutes, despite traveling all this way to lay eyes on her. She was dizzy with lust, her clit buzzing, her nipples aching so much they hurt. For the briefest of instants, while she stood facing the glass wall, Charlie tried to remember if it had ever been like this with Jo. But then Ava started distributing soap on her ass cheeks with a touch so soft and subtle, Charlie wasn’t sure the moisture seeping between her legs came from the shower or straight from the wetness of her pussy.

“Let’s get you nice and clean, Charlie,” Ava said, her voice hoarse. Ava’s fingers skidded along Charlie’s skin, setting her on fire, despite the water raining down on them.

Ava’s hands had reached Charlie’s inner thighs, and Charlie sucked in a deep breath as Ava slipped her fingers along Charlie’s wet folds. “Oh, Christ,” she muttered.

“Don’t come like this,” Ava whispered in her ear as she contoured her body to Charlie’s. Her fingers worked inside Charlie as Ava said, “I want to see you.”

Charlie didn’t know how she was supposed to follow that command. Especially now that Ava’s fingertips brushed her clit as they moved slinkily between her legs.

“Turn around,” Ava whispered finally.

By the time Charlie stood with her back against the wall, her breath came in sharp gusts, and all she wanted was for Ava to kiss her and plunge her soap-lubed fingers deep inside of her.

“Tell me what you want, Charlie?” Ava asked instead. As if she didn’t know. Charlie was beginning to suspect Ava got a perverse pleasure out of teasing her to the extreme.

“Jesus, will you just fuck me?” Charlie spread her legs wide in invitation.

Ava tipped her head to the side. With one hand pressed against the glass wall next to Charlie’s head, the other was free to do whatever Charlie wanted—or what Ava chose to do with it. “Say it again.” Ava tickled Charlie’s tortured pussy lips.

Or maybe it turned Ava on to hear Charlie say it out loud like that. “Fuck me,” Charlie said, testing.

Ava brought her face closer to Charlie’s. “With how many fingers?” Ava was clearly close to unraveling.

“Th-three.” Charlie breathed heavily.

Ava brought three fingers to Charlie’s face. They were slick with soap and water. Ava dragged them down her cheek, then all the way down her chest—passing between her breasts—until she reached Charlie’s sex.

“As you wish.” Ava stared into her eyes and entered Charlie.

“Ooh,” Charlie moaned. She would fly across the globe for this moment. For this split second when Ava claimed her. For that first instant of complete intimate reconnection when all thoughts fled Charlie’s brain and everything was right in her world.

“Fuck, I’m crazy about you, Charlie.” Ava stared into her eyes. She delved deep inside Charlie’s pussy, stealing her breath and her last rational thought. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me.” Ava thrust just that much faster, and Charlie started to fall apart. More because of Ava’s words than the increased pace. Ava was crazy about her? Everything smelled like soap and her field of vision narrowed until all she could see was Ava. Charlie ached as though someone had lit a fire in her belly, and her orgasm swept through her in one big gulf of pleasure, seizing all her muscles.

“Oh fuck,” Charlie groaned. “I’m crazy about you too.” She dropped her head onto Ava’s shoulders and showered her in kisses. Ava’s fingers were still inside of her, and although they had done their job expertly, Charlie wanted them to remain inside of her forever—she wanted a piece of Ava with her for when they had to part again.

Then Ava eased her fingers out of Charlie’s pussy with soft tenderness.

“I think you might be dirty again,” she said. “I may need to wash you all over again.”

They both burst out in a silly bout of laughter, and Charlie was sure that what she’d said in the throes of passion was the absolute truth.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The telephone rang at six in the morning and was a rude awakening for both of them. But all it took for Charlie was one quick glimpse at Ava, and her mood turned from sleep-deprived cranky to utterly blissful.

“Do you want to come? I can send a car for you later? Either way, it might be boring for you. Loads of waiting.”

“I can think of something to make the waiting go by faster.” Charlie sat up and fixed her gaze on the box she’d brought all the way from LA.

Ava grinned, but shook her head. “No, Charlie. Not when I’m working. Makeup will have a fit if I come back from my trailer with a just-fucked look.”

“Okay. I wouldn’t want you to be worried about your hair the first time we fuck like that.”

“Thank you for respecting my means of employment.” Ava draped an arm over Charlie’s belly.

“Ready for your shower?” Charlie dug her fingertips into Ava’s arm.

“Stop, before you make me too horny again.” Ava swatted Charlie’s hand away. “I really have to get going. Wash your pussy scent off me.” Ava giggled, and Charlie giggled with her.

Ava slipped from the bed and walked into the bathroom totally naked. She was barely awake, but a fresh round of thumping had already ignited in Charlie’s clit. She felt it in her stomach, too, as an endless dance of butterflies. Content, Charlie sagged back into the pillows. She was tempted to close her eyes again and catch up on some much-needed sleep, but she’d come here to spend time with Ava, so that was what she would do.

* * *

Ava had been right. The set of
Knives Out
quickly became a snooze fest for Charlie, what with the many retakes and countless times Ava’s makeup was being reapplied.

Charlie decided there wasn’t much glamour to be found in reality television. Eric wasn’t due on set that morning, something Charlie first viewed as lucky, but then, as her boredom grew, it annoyed her. It made her think too much about the other reason why she had flown to Dallas. Yes, she wanted to spend time with Ava, but she also wanted to see Ava interact with Eric. That was hard to do when he wasn’t around.

“You should go back to the hotel,” Ava said during a break. “Get some sleep. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Charlie looked around. If she hadn’t just spent the past few weeks on the set of
Underground
, perhaps staying would have held some appeal. As it was, seeing Ava repeat the same lines of text over and over again was fun the first ten minutes, but the novelty quickly wore off. Charlie also suspected she might be throwing Ava off her game somewhat. When she was introducing a cooking challenge to the contestants earlier, the director had sighed with exasperation, and Ava had sent him an apologetic smirk.

“I think I just might.” Charlie looked at Ava. Up close, only her eyes looked tired—the makeup people had done an expert job at hiding any other remnants of the near sleepless night they’d just had. “I’ll let you sleep tonight, I promise.” She smiled encouragingly at Ava.

“We’ll see about that.”

* * *

On the way back to the hotel, Charlie concluded that, from this set visit, she’d gained a newfound respect for reality television show hosts. The car pulled up to the entrance of the hotel and Charlie’s legs felt weary when she got out.

“Charlie Cross,” a male voice said as Charlie entered the lobby. A male voice that made her cringe. Charlie turned around and looked into Eric’s wrinkled face. If only Ava could have traded schedules with him—but she was the host and her presence on the
Knives Out
set was much more required than the head judge’s.

“Eric.” Charlie tried a polite nod of the head.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Charlie sighed inwardly. She just wanted to go to sleep. She didn’t want to spend time with Eric, but she sympathized with him on some level, and he did say the word “apology.” It would be rude to refuse. “Sure.” She tried to inject some lightness into her tone.

“Awesome. I know just the place.” He flashed a smile. “By that, I mean the hotel bar isn’t horrible.”

They walked to the elevator bank and Eric pushed the button for the top floor. Once they were seated at the bar, Charlie ordered a margarita and, upon hearing her order, Eric asked for the same.

“Screw those who think a margarita is a girlie drink. It’s no such thing. Right, Charlie?”

“Right.” Charlie wondered when he would launch into that apology.

Eric turned on his stool to face her better, and the two of them sitting at the bar like that reminded Charlie of the last time she’d seen him. Eric fixed her with a strange stare. His eyes were watery, and his skin was a bit puffy. “I know I acted like a grade-A asshole that Sunday. Will you accept my apology?”

Which apology?
Just then, the barkeep deposited two huge margaritas—certainly too large for the middle of the afternoon—in front of them.

“Ah, right in time for a toast,” Eric said. He picked up his glass and held it out to Charlie.

Charlie was nowhere near ready to forgive him, but she clinked her cocktail glass against his anyway.

“I’m an all right dude, Charlie,” he said after touching his glass to hers briefly.

“I’m sure you are,” Charlie replied.
Otherwise you wouldn’t be Ava’s friend
, she added in her head. She sipped her drink and the alcohol tasted much stronger than she expected. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep and food—Charlie had only eaten a muffin for breakfast and a bagel for lunch on the
Knives Out
set. “Whoa. They sure know how to pack a punch in their margaritas.”

“Told you I knew a good place. When we’re on location a good bar is crucial. And by good, I mean generous with the alcohol.” Eric sighed loudly. “Aah, that’s nice.”

“You’re not shooting today?” Charlie asked, frustrated that she had to sit here in Eric’s company instead of Ava’s.

“Nope. My services are not required today. I took the opportunity to have lunch with Armand Van Cleef at his restaurant. It was absolutely delicious. Chicken liver casserole.”

Charlie’s stomach turned. Chicken liver casserole sounded far from delicious to her, but what did she know? She wasn’t a chef. She took another sip from her margarita to settle it. It wasn’t the best idea, but it was all she had.

“Ava cooks a mean chicken liver. Has she prepared it for you yet?” Eric rested his watery gaze on her.

“God no. And I’d prefer if she never did, either,” Charlie replied, not meeting his eyes.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Eric made quick work of his margarita. According to Nick’s rules of fashion for men, Eric wore his shirt with one too many buttons open. A tuft of grey chest hair peeked out at the top.

Charlie wasn’t accustomed to making middle-aged straight men open up to her. With Nick, all she needed was one word and he’d spill his innermost secrets, but this rather gruff man next to her—who had clearly started drinking before they sat down together for margaritas—was still an enigma to her. And she desperately wanted to know more.

“Another?” she asked, pointing at Eric’s near-empty glass.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He signaled the bartender and, without consulting Charlie, ordered two more.

They made some small talk about
Knives Out
and
Underground
, and Eric told Charlie about his very first job as a dishwasher in New York. By the time Charlie finished her second margarita, Eric was halfway through his fourth.

“I almost convinced her to move to New York with me, you know?” he said out of the blue. “Only the most magnificent city in the world.”

During her time in LA, Charlie had missed New York terribly, but she was more focused on the first part of Eric’s statement.

“But she’s a Los Angeles woman through and through.”

Charlie assumed he was talking about Ava.

“Some women… they leave a lasting impact, you know?” he continued to muse. “You like women, Charlie. You should know.” He regarded her, and his eyes seemed to be sunk even deeper into their sockets.

Despite being unsettled by what Eric said, Charlie took the opportunity to pry with both hands. “You sound as though you may still have some lingering feelings for Ava.”

Eric uttered a weird half chuckle. “Lingering,” he said, then shook his head. He took a few more sips. Charlie did the same. She needed the liquid courage for the rest of this conversation. Despite not knowing Eric, a half-drunk man was more likely to tell her the truth than a man with his guard up.

“What happened the other—” Charlie started to say, but Eric cut her off.

“No offense, Charlie. I’m sure you’re a fine girl and all that, but you and Ava…” He hung his head and shook it. “No. Just no. I can see why she’s with you. Strangely enough, I really can. You’re young and fresh and something completely different, but she’s a fickle woman. I should know.”

Blind panic shot through Charlie. What Eric was saying didn’t make the most sense, but it did feed Charlie’s ever-present paranoia.