Getting Played (Heart of Fame #7) (11 page)

And with that, he steered Nat away from Flanders.

Nat’s heart thumped hard and fast. She drove her nails into her palms, wishing to God her buoyant jubilation at Jax’s response to Flanders would go away. “So you
did
know who he was?” she asked, also wishing he’d remove his hand from her back.

Well, not really, but wishing she
would
wish he’d remove it. Damn, she was confused already and she’d only been in his company for half a day.

Jax nodded, drawing her a little closer to his side as they navigated through the celebrities mingling in the aisles. “Dirk the jerk. Absolute arsehole. During the interview six years ago he tried to humiliate Noah about his ADHD, implied Nick was already unfaithful to Lauren, asked Levi if he was scared of catching AIDS and questioned how many paternity suites I had filed against me in court.”

“Is that why you just put him in his place?”

He gave her a shocked frown. “Fuck no. I put him in his place because he keeps trashing you and the Con.”

Prickling heat swelled through Nat’s tummy. Her lips tingled. Her throat grew tight. “How do you know that?”

“Ahh, you think you know all about me since we parted ways, don’t you, Boxhead?” His grin turned to a smirk. His eyes twinkled. He waved at the Australian star of the film without stopping, his fingers now skimming the curve of Nat’s butt in a possessive caress as he continued to direct her through the massing crowd. “You think I just ambled away and soaked myself twenty-four-seven in my fame and fortune, forgetting everything in my life pre-success, don’t you?”

Nat opened her mouth. Closed it.

He chuckled, drawing his lips closer to her ear as they maneuvered around a congregation of minor reality-television celebrities. “But despite what you think you know, I never forgot about you.”

The declaration sent molten tension straight to the junction of Nat’s thighs. She caught her breath.

Jax stroke the tip of his nose up the side of her neck before capturing her earlobe with his teeth in a gentle nip. “I wanted to let him know what a jerk he is. For you.”

Nat’s feet stumbled. Because her brain stopped working for a second at Jax’s whispered statement, or because her body wanted to do nothing else but wrap itself around
his
body, she wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, he caught her before she could completely tumble on her torturous six-inch stilettos. His hand on the small of her back slid down to cup her arse, his other hand curled her hip.

And then he was kissing her. Right there in the aisle, surrounded by ravenous media representatives who, if the number of smart phone and camera flashes peppering Nat’s closed eyelids was any indication, couldn’t get enough of the unexpected show.

He swiped his tongue into her mouth, squeezed her butt and hauled her hard to his hips. His erection—the one that had stayed on semi-alert for the duration of the film—pressed at the flat of her belly.

More flashes detonated around them.

Nat knew she should care. The Nat representing the country’s leading music learning institute should be mortified, given she’d inadvertently agreed to a date with the Minister for the Arts and Culture only that afternoon.

The trouble was, as always when it came to Jaxon Campbell, Nat had zero willpower.

She rolled her own hips, a low whimper letting him know she felt his arousal.

He groaned into her mouth, squeezed her arse again and then broke away from the kiss. “I’m going to strip you naked and fuck you against the window back in my hotel suite,” he murmured, gaze holding hers as he trailed his thumb across her bottom lip. “So you can forget the fucking taxi.”

Her heart slammed up into her throat. And then a flash directly behind Jax’s shoulder blinded her and all she could do was wince and blink.

“So the dean’s a naughty girl?” she heard Dirk Flanders mutter with a laugh.

“The dean is leaving,” Jax shot over her shoulder. “And no, we won’t be attending your after-premier party, Flanders. But thanks for sending the invite to my agent.”

He threaded his fingers through Nat’s, gave her a wide grin and then strode from the theatre, tucking her into the side of his body as he did so.

Bruce met them just inside the main door, expressionless, tux immaculately crease-free. “Did you enjoy the movie, Mr. Campbell?”

Jax pulled a melodramatic contemplative expression. “Needed more handy work.”

Nat almost choked, her cheeks flooding with heat.

If Bruce wondered about her reaction, he didn’t show it. Instead, he held his arm out to the side and partly turned away. “The limo is waiting, sir. Be wary. Carl Holston is here.”

Jax snorted. “Fucking Holston.”

Nat frowned. “Why do I know that name?”

“He’s a notorious paparazzo, Ms. Thorton,” Bruce supplied. “Has had an ongoing obsession with Nick Blackthorne and his band for many years.”

Jax began to walk again, his hand on Nat’s back sliding closer to her backside once more. “He took a photo of me taking a leak in the men’s loo at the Sydney Opera House one year. I think it was just after that I hired you, right, Bruce?”

“That’s correct, Mr. Campbell.”

Nat raised her eyebrows. “He took a photo of you peeing?”

“Hey, you’ve seen my dick. It’s pretty bloody impressive. Lots of people around the world want to see what it looks like.”

“This way, sir,” Bruce directed them through the crowd waiting outside the theatre, saving Nat from responding.

“Hey, Campbell! Campbell!” a man holding a state-of-the-art SLR camera shouted, hurrying toward them. “Who’s the babe? You knocked her up yet?”

Bruce stepped between the approaching man and Jax and Nat. She didn’t think it possible for the bodyguard to appear more menacing, but somehow he seemed to puff up with instant bulk and muscle in the blink of an eye.

Jax pulled her firmer to his body, raising a hand to shield their faces from the intrusive flashes firing at them from the paparazzo. “Having fun?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah.”

The paparazzo continued to hurl insults and taunts at Jax. Nat couldn’t deny how impressed she was at the relaxed way he ignored the annoying man.

“It gets easier.” Jax laughed, no doubt seeing her incredulous amazement on her face. “And I’ve had years to build up a resistance.”

“Here we go, sir.” Bruce’s deep rumble swung Nat’s stare from Jax’s face to the bodyguard.

They’d arrived at the limo, which waited—engine running, back door open—at the end of the pavement. Bruce stood at the door, between Jax and the still-snapping paparazzo.

She looked into the dark, luxurious interior, heart fast. If she climbed in, she’d be escaping the photographer’s insidious attention. However, she’d also be putting herself firmly at the mercy of her sexual lust for Jax, and while that wasn’t a problem, she needed to regroup and remind herself this whole agreement she had with him really was only about sex and lust. She couldn’t do that if he was fucking her senseless against the window of his hotel suite.

“Nice tits, love.” The air bleached white as the paparazzo captured another image of her and Jax. “Campbell, want to lick ’em for me?”

God, the last thing she needed was the Con’s board and Jeremy Craig to see images of her breasts being licked by a rock star, and Jax was just the kind of rock star to do such a thing. Hell, she’d seen more than one image of him doing that very thing with starlets and groupies since they’d ended their relationship.

Huh. As if this relationship had ever ended. It’s never been over. It was just on hiatus for a while.

The unnerving thought whispered through her head, just as Jax moved.

Nat let out a tiny yelp and dove into the limo.

A barrage of camera flashes bleached the interior of the limo a second before Jax climbed inside, laughing. The door slammed behind him, muffling Bruce’s, “Back off, buddy, before I break your face”.

Settling into the seat beside her, Jax cast her a wicked smirk. “You thought I was going to lick your boobs, didn’t you?”

Flustered, unsettled and unfortunately more than a little horny, Nat smoothed her hands over her thighs and shook her head. “Of course not.”

He inched closer to her, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Liar.”

Sucking in a breath, all too aware of the greedy throb in her pussy, she pulled as far away from him as the seat would allow. “Take me home, Campbell.”

Hot desire joined the amusement in his dark gaze. “Gladly. There’s fucking against the window to be done. Naked fucking.”

“
My
home,” she ground out, pressing her thighs together. Damn it, she was not going to let him,
or
her lust, be in charge. She needed to clear her head. She needed to—

“Fucking against
your
window, is it?” He followed her across the seat, slipping fingers beneath the split in her dress to trail up her thigh. “As you wish.”

“No fucking tonight!” she declared, flattening her palm to the centre of his face and shoving him away.

He fell back to the seat, laughing. “As if I was going to take you back to your house,” he declared, lips curled. “You’re coming back to
my
hotel and then we’re
both
coming again and again. You can’t get me all riled up like you have tonight without payoff.”

“I’ll give you payoff,” she crossed her legs, her clit a little throbbing button waiting to be pushed between her thighs. “A name in the morning. That was our deal.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying her. “A name. So you know of someone already?”

Nat swallowed, doing her best not to fidget. Thanks to Jax’s declaration about all the
coming
they were supposedly going to do, she’d moved beyond aroused and was now hovering somewhere between drenched-knickers impatience and hit-a-pothole-and-climax need, and given that she wasn’t wearing any knickers, it was a perilous state to be in.

Ignoring the seductive whispers in her body to surrender to her lust, she nodded. “Of course I know of someone. More than one. You don’t think I would have agreed to this deal just for the sex, do you?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, lips twitching.

She swallowed again. That was exactly why she’d made the deal, and by the smug look on Jax’s face, he knew it.

Which meant she had to teach him a lesson. Make him pay.

Be harsh.

“Besides,” she said, turning away from him to look out the window, her heart fast. “I’ve other plans tonight.”

Heavy silence stretched between them for a beat.

“Other plans?”

The tension in Jax’s voice set off a horde of butterflies in Nat’s stomach.

Forcing an aloof expression on her face, she swung back to him. “I haven’t been sitting around all these years waiting for you to swoop back into my life, Jaxon Campbell.”

“Cancel them.”

The butterflies in her tummy whirled at his blunt demand
and
the open jealousy in his face.

Oh boy, this wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind. She didn’t want Jax being jealous. It just…complicated things.

“I’m not cancelling them,” she shot back. “You asked me to go to the movies, I went to the movies. Now, after you drop me home, I’m meeting someone for coffee.”

Jax’s nostrils flared. “Who?”

Nat opened her mouth. Crap, she sucked at lying.

A devious smile played with the corners of Jax’s lips. A knowing gleam flickered his eyes. “There isn’t any one, is there, Boxhead? You really have become a chick—”

Nat’s mobile phone chimed into life in her purse, the sound of William Tell’s epic Overture filling the back of the limo.

Sending a silent thank you to the gods of perfect timing, she gave Jax a wicked smirk, withdrew her phone from her clutch purse and read the name of the incoming caller on its screen.

Jeremy Craig.

Nat’s stomach dropped. And then took off with maniacal butterflies.

At her side, Jax let out a low chortle. “You think he’s seen the images of us making out in the cinema already?”

Pulse pounding, Nat swiped her thumb across the screen and lifted her mobile to her ear. “Hello, Minister. What can I do for you?”

Jax smoothed his hand up the length of her thigh, his fingers skimming beneath the split of her dress.

“I just saw images of you at the film premier at the IMAX theatre,” the Minister for the Arts and Culture said through the connection, his voice scratchy.

Nat swallowed. “What images?”

Jax trailed his fingers along the seam where her right thigh pressed over her left, heading for her pussy.

She slapped his hand, but he didn’t stop.

“You on the red carpet,” Jeremy answered. “With that rock and roll keyboard player.”

Her heart skipped a rapid beat. Her pulse hammered at her throat. “And?”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “And I just wanted to tell you how stunning and beautiful you looked.”

Jax dipped his fingers beneath the silken fabric of her dress until they touched the curve of her sex.

“Thank you,” she answered into her phone’s microphone, mouth dry, eyes closed.