The Housewife and the Film Star (10 page)

His only response was a brief nod, as he continued to stare over her shoulder.

"Why would you do that? You hardly knew me then."

"Yeah, well, don't read too much into it." He glanced at her briefly, and the slight flush on his cheekbones made her silly heart flip over. "I would have done the same for anybody with a small kid. Those vultures are ruthless, and, whatever I may or may not have suspected you of at the time, that boy needed protection, still does."

He still wasn't looking at her. Instead he shifted from one foot to the other, arms crossed. The slight pout on his face reminded her of Timmy when he'd been caught doing something that he shouldn't. A wash of affection rolled over her with such force she had to brace the side of the boat to steady herself.
Don't go there. Just don't.

"So, Sweden, eh? Is everything all right over there? It's just you seemed kinda tense talking on the phone earlier?"

The renewed look of raw pain she glimpsed in his eyes sent a shiver of ice cold dread down her spine. So much pain and despair in those expressive eyes, she had to blink her own tears away.

"I'm not prying, Sven. It's just, well, I'm here if you want to talk that's all."

He stood there watching her for the longest time, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides, before he shook his head, and murmured something in Swedish under his breath.

"Can you steer us down the canal? There's a big lock coming up. It has a gate keeper, so no worries about opening it. Moor her just after that, and I'll meet up with you. Can you do that?"

His sudden activity startled her. He pulled his shirt off and chucked it on the floor. His features once again closed off as he waited for her answer.

"Where are you going, Sven?"

"I need to go for a run."

"But—" She took a step back at the sudden fury and heat in his eyes.

"Goddamn, woman, will you just do that for me,
please
? I need to go for a run or something. I do
not
need to fucking talk about it, and if I stay around you much longer, I'll have you tied back to that bed fucking you senseless before you can say no. And I don't trust myself to not hurt you more than I already have."

His breathing heavy, his eyes locked with hers again, and the hand cupping her chin shook.

"We need to talk about last night and the possible consequences, but fuck it. I can't do that now, and, heaven help me, I'm not regretting it either, and if that doesn't scare you shitless, lady, then you really do need your head examined."

He rubbed one thumb across her bottom lip, and his eyes darkened, focusing on that action. Heat and fear coiled together low in her belly at what she saw in his face, before he shook himself. With a long jump, he flipped himself over the side of the boat and started running away as though the demons of hell were after him.

She could only stare after him in wonder, rubbing the goose-bumps off her skin.

****

Sven was indeed running away from his demons. How could he have been so fucking careless? If Sylvia was pregnant after the stunt he'd pulled last night, then what the hell was he going to do? He couldn't stand another woman he cared about looking at him with disgust in her eyes at the possibility of giving birth to a freak, damn it. Life was just so fucking cruel, and there was fuck all he could do about it. All the money in the world wouldn't bring him back, and, if the shit hit the fan with Sylvia, then he could really kiss his chances of funding good bye. And he needed to make that goddamned film. He'd promised, and he kept to his promises.

With a low growl he pushed his body harder, increasing the pace, the pain in his muscles a welcome distraction from the pain in his gut. His mother's sobs still
rang in his ears, as he pushed himself harder still. When the fuck were the anniversaries going to get easier? Last year he'd spent a week drinking himself silly and screwing every pussy  he could lay his hands on, knowing full well he was breaking his mother's heart doing so and unable to stop himself. The double whammy of the anniversary and losing the baby he didn't even know Julia had been carrying had been too much for him. Only she hadn't lost his baby, had she? The cow had it aborted without even telling him about it. Running on the spot, he punched the tree with a vicious curse, the pain shooting up his arm, another welcome distraction from the murderous thoughts that invaded him. In just two short weeks he would have to play nice for the cameras at the premiere.  He hadn't seen the bitch in over a year, ever since she dropped that bombshell. His refusal to honor the contract cost him dearly, but there was no way he could have trusted himself to be around her.

He still wasn't sure he would be able to pull it off, but if the film was a success, then maybe that would open the doors he needed open. He slowed his pace running along the lock, seeing the
Defiance
moored just like he'd asked of Sylvia.

Vera's insistent voice rang in his ear as he remembered their last phone call. He slowed to a crawl, seeing Sylvia up ahead. One hand shaded her eyes as she looked in his direction. She was waiting for him to show up no doubt. He owed her an explanation, that's for sure. His gut tightened seeing the tears in her eyes, and his skin crawled at using her in the way Vera had suggested. He wasn't with her because it was good for his image, damn it. And he was not going to subject her to the glare of the red carpet, even if his heart felt lighter at the thought of having her there. She was as different from that bitch as chalk and cheese—thank God for that.

He raised his hand in greeting as she spotted him, an uncertain smile on her face. Time to make amends.

****

Sylvia's heart plummeted at the state of him when he climbed on board. At least some of that awful tension had left him. But what on earth had he done to his hand? The cut was bleeding heavily, and she all but flew to him.

"What the hell have you done to your hand, Sven? I thought you were going for a run, not getting into a punch up."

His infuriatingly lazy smile made her blood boil.

"This isn't funny, for pity's sake. Get inside, I have to clean this, you stupid oaf."

"It's fine. Leave it be. And, before you berate me more, I didn't punch anybody. I hit a tree."

"A tree!
A tree?
What the fuck for, Sven? Did it jump out and ambush you? Last time I checked trees did not move. What possible reason could you have had for doing something so stupid?"

His rueful chuckle did little to alleviate her temper.

"It seemed a good idea at the time."

He countered her frustrated groan with another laugh, before he pulled her against him. With his lips grazing her temple, one hand splayed against the small of her back, her body instantly responded to his nearness. His scent, heightened by exercise, sent her every female instinct into
hyper-drive, as did his growled, "I'm sorry
min älskade
, for earlier. It won't happen again."

He fisted his hand in her hair and angled her head to enable him to kiss her. A kiss so tender and needy, she couldn't help but lean into him. His tongue slipped into her sigh, deepening the kiss. Sven picked her up to carry her downstairs, and shouldered the door to the bathroom open with a wicked grin and a whispered, "Ever made love in a shower, baby?"

"You're so not playing fair." As protests went that was a very half-hearted effort, and then Sven's hands and lips made her forget everything else.

Chapter Ten

Sylvia's fury turned to passion when he shut her up by kissing her. Her sighed surrender set his blood to the boiling point, and he bundled them both into the shower, clothes and all.

She moaned in pleasure when the hot water hit her, and he stood mesmerized as her flimsy summer dress turned transparent.

Her eyes flew open when he groaned. Seeing the way her nipples puckered, the dusty rose of her areolas clearly visible through the sodden fabric, was the biggest turn
-on ever. Her breath hitched, and the tell-tale blush of arousal spread over her chest and into her cheeks. His cock strained painfully against the seam of his shorts in response. He let his gaze roam over the curve of her hips. Down her long, shapely legs, outlined beautifully by her skirt now clinging to them, over the line of her underwear and the slightly darker patch just visible at the apex of those thighs.

He let his hands follow the path of his eyes and caught her soft moans in his mouth. Sylvia's hands started an exploration of their own
, and his groans mingled with hers. Her fingernails scraped over his sensitive nipples and then trailed through his chest hair until she reached the button of his jeans.

"Easy, baby, or this will all be over far too soon."

Sven felt her smile under his kisses, and his toes curled at the sound of her husky response.

"You'd better not be, Mister. You owe me slow and careful."

He wrenched his lips off hers and framed her face in his hands. Bitter remorse churned his gut painfully at what he saw in her eyes— wariness, arousal, and trust all rolled into one. Her teeth worried that bottom lip again, and he forced himself to gentle his kiss. His own teeth took over possession of that full lip, even as his hips thrust forward with a will of their own. Her immediate moan of surrender notched his arousal up another ten degrees. His cock all but screamed at him to take her and claim what was his.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me,
min sköna
? I want you so badly right now I'm going to explode."

Sylvia
pulled away from him slightly, her eyes huge with her own needs and her voice as strained as his. She wrapped her long legs around his hips.

"What do you want big boy, this?" The minx proceeded to rub herself up and down his groin. Her pleasure-filled moans in his ear nearly made him shoot his load in his jeans like some inexperienced teenager. His knees buckled
, and he almost dropped her, before he managed to steady himself by crowding her against the tiled wall. Bracing one hand against the wall, he used the other to rip the strap of her summer dress.

"You'll owe me a whole new wardrobe soon, big boy."

Her blush deepened at his growled response.

"
Nej min sköna
, I much prefer you naked." When his mouth closed over the luscious tips of her now exposed nipples, Sylvia’s response was lost in her incoherent sounds of need that increased with every stroke of his tongue. Legs finally giving way, he put her down, and pulled her dress down with his hands. His lips followed, licking every inch of her skin until, kneeling in front of her, he found her wet labia. Her scent called him to taste her tender flesh, and he used his thumbs to part her lips. Her clit already stood proud out of its little hood and hardened further under his tongue. He stepped up his assault on her nubbin, and her sweet juices flowed into his mouth, and he lost himself in her essence. Her clenched hands in his hair urged him on, as she opened wider to give him better access. Ignoring the ache in his cock, he brought her pleasure over and over until she collapsed, and joined him on the floor of the basin. He held her close, kissed the tears off her face, and waited for her breathing to slow down. The faint bruises left on her skin from last night mocked him, and remorse slammed into him anew.

"I'm sorry."

Her passion-filled eyes sought his before she looked down to where his hands were resting. She took his injured one to her lips to caress the cut with her tongue, and she surprised him again.

"It's nothing, other than the best orgasm I ever had."

Male satisfaction filled him at those words to be replaced by tenderness at the self-conscious way she wasn’t looking at him. A fierce blush spread all over her body. She pushed the sodden strands of her hair out of her face. Embarrassment radiated off her in waves.

"I'm glad to hear that. Look at me, baby."

Desire almost brought him to his knees when she leant forward instead and cupped him through the denim.

"Talking of which, let me help you out here, big boy. This has all been rather one-sided. Stand up."

Fascinated by this new, more sexually aggressive side of her, he scrambled to his feet, and braced himself against the tiles. She mimicked his earlier actions and licked the water off his torso. Then she grabbed his shorts and pulled them off in one yank. His freed cock standing proud, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven when she knelt in front of him. Grabbing his balls, she took him in deep and rode him with her mouth. Sylvia knelt between his legs, the water running in rivulets over her full breasts, which bounced slightly with the movement of her body. She licked, stroked, and sucked him into paradise, her lips on his cock the most erotic sight ever. When she pushed one slick finger through his anus to massage his prostrate Sven saw stars. His release built at the base of his spine, and he pushed himself even deeper into her mouth, his hands buried in her hair. His cock hit the back of her throat as she inserted another finger and bit down slightly on his dick. With an almighty roar of sheer pleasure, he spilled inside the hot, sweet haven of her mouth. She swallowed every last drop before she released him. He pulled her to her feet with a muttered oath, and put all his feelings into the kiss that followed.

"Jesus, woman, you'll be the death of me. Let's get you out of here."

Wrapping them both up in the fluffy bathrobes, he carried her through to the bedroom, where passion once again took over. They came together in another earth shattering climax, before hunger of a different kind drove them out of bed and in search of food.

****

Christ, she was so goddamn beautiful. His gut tightened painfully as he watched her sleep, her body bathed in the rays of the late afternoon sun. It had turned out to be a hot day once the sun had managed to break through the clouds. After one of the longest showers he'd ever had in his life, she'd managed to rustle up the most amazing pancakes for lunch, before he'd ordered her to take it easy. He'd made sure she slathered her delicate skin in sunscreen, and he'd installed her on the sun lounger in the stern, whilst he assumed his position behind the tiller.

She'd been so furious and concerned for him, when he climbed back on board
, and he smiled, remembering her insistence on seeing his hand. Holding it up to the sun now, the cut was barely visible, but the knuckles were starting to bruise. The faint ache he felt was a reminder that hitting trees was not the best idea he'd ever had. The shower that followed however definitely had been.

He shifted in his jeans, the memories making his cock stand to attention again as he watched her now.
Sylvia was stretched out on the sun lounger in the stern, not a speck of make up on her sun-kissed face. Her lips were still swollen from his earlier attentions, and her head rested on her hands. She’d fallen asleep listening to him ramble on about nothing in particular, whilst he steered them back to their meeting point with George and reality. He'd moored the
Defiance
a while ago, further up the canal than he'd agreed with his driver. After the pub incident, however, he wasn't taking any chances of having the press waiting for them. He'd simply settled for watching her sleep, the emotions swirling in his gut an uncomfortable reminder how complicated his life had suddenly become.

The simple truth of the matter was he didn't want their weekend to be over. What was supposed to have been a simple fuck fest, a distraction from his troubles back home, had turned into something more.

She moaned in her sleep, her lips curling up in a soft smile as she shifted her body. His groin reacted instantly. Rather than getting her out of his system, he only wanted her more. Her smiles, her sassy comebacks, her complete honesty and inherent compassion, the vulnerability she tried to hide. The way her body trembled in his arms when she fell apart during sex, the way she made him feel things he had thought long buried, the way she raised the Dom in him—she scared the crap out of him. He wanted to wrap her up and keep her safe, and he had no right to do so. He wasn't good enough for her and never would be.  But, fuck him, if the only word that kept bouncing around in his head when he looked at her wasn't
mine.

****

Sylvia woke up slowly, and smiled at the feel of his warm hands sliding over her back. Keeping her eyes shut, she gave herself up to the sensations aroused by Sven's talented hands on her bare skin. Heat pooled low in her belly as his hands massaged the suntan lotion into her skin with infinite care. She must have fallen asleep listening to him talk earlier. Not entirely surprising after the morning they'd had.  And how she could be aroused again now was beyond her comprehension, really. One weekend with Sven seemed to have awakened her inner nymphomaniac. She bit down hard on her lip to stop the moan from escaping, as his hands slid underneath her waistband briefly before rubbing the cream up her waist and under her breasts.

Get a grip, he is only making sure you don't burn.

The hands stopped. One remained on her hip, stroking almost absentmindedly, and she could feel him shift slightly. His deep sigh made her frown. Lifting her head, she opened her eyes to find him kneeling next to her. Body turned away, his eyes looked straight ahead, and he seemed deep in thought. But it was the slump of his shoulders that called to her. As she turned herself over, his hand slid to her abdomen. It tightened for an instant, before his fingers relaxed. He didn't remove it, however. He just stared and looked down at his hand.

"I'm sorry
. I didn't mean to wake you up." His gaze briefly flickered to her face, before once again darting to her abdomen.

A trickle of unease went down her spine as the expression on his face darkened. The warmth of his hand on her abdomen did little to ward off the sudden chill of foreboding. He was too intense and too quiet. All his attention was focused on that hand.

His next words increased the iciness that was settling in her veins like lead.

"Is last night going to be a problem?"

Oh hell
. They were finally having that conversation then.

"I-I don't know. I mean no. It won't be."

His ice cold eyes settled on her face. The hand on her tummy tightened again, as he ran the other one through his hair before he clenched it into a fist on his thigh.

"Give me a straight answer. Either it is or it isn't, lady."

She swallowed nervously. The tension came off him in waves as he waited for her answer.

"Damn it, Sylvia, answer me. Are you on the pill?"

"No, I had no reason to be."

"Using anything else?"

Not trusting her voice at what she saw in the eyes boring into hers, she simply shook her head. She jumped at the vicious curse that followed, and he got up, and prowled along the small confines of the stern like a caged panther.

"It's okay, Sven, I'll sort it. We've
seventy-two hours. It'll be fine."

"No!"

"What do you mean no? We have to do something, and, well, like I said, I'll sort it."

He stopped pacing, but the look of disgust he threw at her took her breath away. She pulled her knees up to her chest. Sven seemed livid at the suggestion, his whole body as tense as a bow string, and fear held Sylvia in its firm grip. He looked just like Richard used to before his fists would come flying towards her. Sylvia screwed her eyes shut, and braced herself for the inevitable blows as she could sense him shift his body.

It wasn't fists that sliced through her however; it was the pain in his voice.

"I thought you were different."

The words penetrated through the layers of dark memories and sheer terror churning in her gut. The slam of the door told her she was alone.

****

Emotions swirled inside Sven like shifting sands. He gave the chair a vicious kick, sending it flying. It landed with an almighty crash and the sound of splintering wood. He was losing the fucking plot here. She'd looked so frightened, huddled on that damn lounger, shrinking away from him as though she was expecting him to turn on her like some wife-beating monster. His own fury at the careless way she could dismiss a possible pregnancy had overshadowed any other thought in his mind. He had to step away to give himself time to think. The distant sound of her crying was like a vise squeezing on his heart.

Fuck, he had done that to her. And he had his answer as clearly as though she had admitted it out loud. She said it in the way she shrank away from the merest hint of any form of physical violence. It was a miracle she'd been able to enjoy a spanking. If the bastard who'd done this to her wasn't dead and buried already, he soon would be. He'd handled this all wrong, damn it. His own demons had brought out the worst in him and scared him witless. They didn't even know whether she was pregnant. With a bit of luck, she wouldn't be, but he had to explain to her about Walter. She needed to know; he owed her that much.