She writhed more urgently against him, ready for release, almost there already… He flipped her to her back and took control and kept that sweet finale from her, coaxing her to the edge again and again until her fingernails scored his back.
Still, he tormented her by slowing the pace, damn him. She’d had enough of men ruling her life and her emotions. She would take what she wanted, when she wanted it.
Bella locked her legs around his hips, sensation rolling through her as fast as their wet bodies slid against each other. Almost…Almost…
There.
Her muscles tensed as pleasure pulsed through her so hard and fast a cry burst free. Dimly she registered his hoarse growl of completion as she rode the wave into total satisfaction.
Replete, she sagged beneath him into the fluffy comforter. The scent of champagne, strawberries and lovemaking filled the air, but she knew it would all fade soon enough.
Her escape from reality would end at sunrise.
Sun peeking on the horizon, Sam tucked the sheet more securely around Bella as he carefully slid from the bed. Her hair splayed over the pillow, her bare arm gripping the coverlet as if securing it for another great escape.
Muffin stared at him quietly from the foot of the bed, wide eyes unblinking, Billy Idol snarl in place. He’d never been much of a dog person, but at least the mutt wasn’t an annoying yippy barker.
He shifted his attention back to Bella. No question that Ridley guy had done a number on her ego. The rat’s timing sure sucked, with her grandmother’s illness and her true parentage coming out.
She’d mentioned the press had already started printing stories about the mess. Media hounds would eat up her misfortune faster than wolves devoured a fresh carcass. The very reason he preferred to stay as far away from them as possible.
By all rights he should say goodbye to Bella once she woke. He’d certainly intended to when planning out this seduction.
He’d expected great sex. But he hadn’t expected to want more.
She’d made it clear this was a one-night-only deal for her, too. Now he had to convince her otherwise.
He wasn’t sure how long it would take for them to work each other out of their system. He wasn’t even sure how long he could put up with the media circus that would undoubtedly follow her wherever they went together.
The one thing he did know? He would have to tread warily with her, given her recent experience with men. Of course, he wasn’t an inept jackass like that Ridley moron.
A soft knock sounded from beyond the sitting area, out in the hall.
Right on time.
Sam shrugged into his robe and strode past the remains of their meal to answer the door. Bella’s mutt pattered across the floor to join him. Sam blocked the pup with his foot.
His personal assistant, a middle-aged Englishman, stood in the hall, his eyes going wide for a flash at the sight of the dog. “Here are the clothes you ordered for Miss Hudson, along with a new room key.”
“Thank you, Parrington.” Sam stayed in the entry, not wanting to expose Bella to the other man’s eyes. “And the security breach?”
“One of the ladies at the registration desk started dating the photographer a couple of weeks ago.” Parrington reached for the PDA clipped to his belt. “I have the name here.”
“No need to tell me now. Just send the information to my e-mail. The guy probably seduced the woman for her connections here.” A self-serving ass just like his own father. “Thank you for looking into this. I appreciate that no more stress will be visited on Bella Hudson while she is with us.”
“Rest assured.” His assistant nodded crisply.
“Good. Good. Well done.” Sam closed the door again and stared back into the bedroom at Bella. She still slept soundly.
His body stirred at just the sight of her. He wasn’t sure what made her different, but he still wanted her even after their night filled with lovemaking and what he wanted, he got.
He knew she’d only slept with him as a balm to her bruised ego. No doubt she planned to hotfoot her way out of here when she woke. Most times, that would have been a relief. But he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. He had other plans.
Plans to delay her leaving France.
Plans to get her back in his bed.
Mind set, he picked up the phone and dialed.
Bella picked through the layers of sleepy fog until she could pry her eyes open. She blinked twice and…
Oh, my God. She’d really slept with Sam Garrison because sure enough, she could hear him in the shower. What the hell had she been thinking?
She scrubbed her tousled hair off her forehead and stretched, her body tender from a night of uninhibited lovemaking. She eyed the empty champagne bottle and a fast flush heated her face. She eyed the clock and groaned again at how late she’d slept.
What seemed like such a good idea last night now seemed totally reckless. How could she have thought she could sleep with a man without giving something of herself?
The shower turned off.
No, no, no, she wasn’t ready to face him yet, wasn’t sure if she would ever be. All of her reasons for jumping into bed with him—her breakup, her parents’ marital train wreck—now had her eying the door for a fast escape before she risked even a corner of her already bruised heart.
She inched quietly out of the bed, farther and farther until one leg slipped off the mattress. She toed the floor and eased herself the rest of the way out from under the covers. Careful not to make a sound. Determined to get away before he finished his shave and she had to make morning-after talk with a man she barely knew but had slept with anyway.
She prided herself on being so much better than many of the promiscuous Hollywood party types. Hell, she’d even managed to keep her clothes on in her movies so far. She was a serious actress, a deep person who rescued pound puppies rather than spending a gazillion dollars on a vanity pet.
And yet at the first sign of heartache, she’d thrown away her clothes and inhibitions.
Speaking of clothes, she needed something to wear. She would settle for the robe, if need be—
Her gaze fell on a stack of clothes resting on the gold-striped sofa, Muffin resting her head on top of the pile. Bella raced across the room for the jeans and frilly top—hers. Sam must have sent someone into her room.
She scruffed Muffin’s head before gently moving the dog aside. “Sh…Stay quiet, sweetie.”
Under the dog’s head, a room card rested on top of the clothes. Thank goodness. With a little luck and a lot of stealth, she could make it out of here undetected with her pet.
She scooped up the clothes. Sam’s thoughtfulness tugged at her.
Or
