Just a Fan (13 page)

I began to suck the grease from my fingers, when I realised that he was watching me closely as I did so, an odd look in his eyes.

'What?' I asked uncertainly, hand frozen.

He grinned slowly.

'Are you doing that on purpose?' he asked me, blue eyes glimmering.

I frowned. 'Doing what?'

His half-smile was charming as he leant his elbow against the back of the bench.

'Trying to turn me on,' he replied. 'Because it's working.'

My eyes widened in shock, and I felt myself blush again.

'Oh - no, I didn't - I wasn't -' I hurriedly tried to say, mortified, but then his smile became a full-on, devilish grin.

'Come here!' he growled happily, grabbing me. I had no choice but to hang onto the back of his jacket for dear life as he pressed those luscious lips to mine.

'You taste of nems,' I giggled breathlessly as his mouth traced the side of my neck.

'So do you,' he murmured with a laugh, then raised his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. 'Let's go back to mine, shall we?'

* * *

I should have known what extraordinary experience was lying in wait for me when Connor enthusiastically led me on a grand tour of his house, starting upstairs. It was only natural that our tour never really got past the bedroom...

'It's a very nice bed, isn't it?' he asked me with a big smile, pulling me down to sit beside him as he bounced up and down on the matress slightly.

'
Very
nice indeed,' I replied, scarcely able to get the words out for the unthinkable knowledge that Connor was making such advances.

He patted the deep scarlet satin bedspread happily, an energetic light in his eyes, then leant forwards, his mouth stopping just short of mine.

'How about it, eh, lass?' he whispered, his hot breath making me ready to faint. I nearly went cross-eyed as I found myself hypnotised by him - his hooded eyes, his crooked, sinful smile parenthesized by expressive lines, his dark curls gleaming in the lamplight...He had shed his jacket, and I could see some of the sparse hairs of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned.

'Oh, God...' I whimpered silently, my eyes drawn again to the masculine curve of his mouth, where the whiteness of his front teeth could be seen resting with casual sensuality against his bottom lip. He was an expert at this, I could tell. He knew just what to do to make a girl hyperventilate. His laid-back yet highly-strung playfulness was frighteningly irresistible...this guy had raw, unadulterated
charm
.

I was about to collapse forwards onto him, when I frowned. Should I really be giving in to this? Was this the right time? How many dates was it that one had to have before it was acceptable to do this? And most importantly...what about those dozens of other girls who had gone through the same thing as I had?

'Hmm.' I narrowed my eyes at him.

The arrogant confidence faltered on his lovely face. 'What?'

'Not convinced,' I grumbled, then got up and walked over to the other side of the bed.

'About what?' Connor sighed, still maintaining his compelling, seductive allure as he leant on the bed with one elbow. I frowned, conflicted.

'About
this
.'

I sat myself down on the opposite side of the bed, keeping my back to him to avoid being mesmerised by his bone-melting allure, and crossed my arms. 'I bet you've had a woman every night of your life since you became so famous,' I muttered grumpily.

I could
sense
that grin of his behind me as he teased me, knowing that my ill humour was easily broken: 'A fair few,' he stated with casual modesty. 'But not every night. Oh, no. Anyway, they don't matter anymore - they're the past. All that matters is
you
and
me
,
now
.' I could feel the bed sag gently as he crawled across it to come close behind me. He didn't touch me, not yet; he wanted my approval first. But there was still something troubling me.

'Is that what you told
them
, too?' I asked in a subdued tone, now more serious. 'What happens when
I
won't matter any more - when
I
become the past?'

Connor sighed, then his cheek touched mine, his strong arms wrapping around me to pull me back against his chest.

'You, Lillian, will
always
matter,' he promised softly. 'Always.' Slowly I let myself melt in his embrace, unable to resist him any longer. When his lips touched mine, my heart leapt, as it did every time he kissed me. Connor whispered: 'You can never become the past - because you are my future.'

My eyes widened in surprise at this, and then I returned the kiss just as tenderly.

'Oh...?' I sighed, carressing the rough stubble on his chin and running my fingers through his thick black curls.

A familiar, mischievous grin abruptly parted his fine lips, breaking the serious atmosphere.

'Besides,' he told me arrogantly between kisses, 'you do realise this means I have a
lot
of experience...?'

I gave a gasp at his cheekiness, and burst out laughing.

'You beast!' I growled at him, grabbing a luxurious satin pillow and cuffing him with it. Caught by surprise, he did not manage to dodge it, but quickly regained his composure and ducked his head when I swung it a second time, then began to wrestle it from my grip. We rolled over, laughing, until he finally managed to take it from me, pinning my arms above my head. He came to a halt spread fully above me, and then looked down at me with a new, determined purpose in his eyes...

* * *

After a
very
physical hour or two completely out of the ordinary, and about twenty minutes of exhausted sleep, I woke slowly and luxuriously. Had I ever been warmer, happier, more fulfilled than I was now, lying beneath the red satin covers and soft, crisp sheets beside the movie star I had so long idolised? I had thought for so long that such contact with him would be the end of me, that the love I felt for him would just destroy me...but Connor had shown me that he returned that love, and with it made me stronger and happier. Even though I had always hated that cheesy saying, we were indeed like two halves of one whole; I had never felt better. Shocking though it was to find myself - a normal, average girl who didn't have the body of a model and did not flaunt anything - in the bed of the guy voted Hottest Man of the Year twice in a row, I felt curiously
right
here.

My eyes wandered over to the famous man himself, who was sleeping like a log, sprawled out rather adorably on his stomach, his head turned towards me. I smiled. Every minute of film footage recorded of Connor could not even compare with the real thing, here with me. Even the short clip recorded for the outtakes of a film he starred in, which showed him fast asleep on set, was nowhere near as touching as the sight of him in the flesh, sleeping so close to me. Large, lean and muscular though he was, he looked curiously vulnerable with his bare skin exposed, his delicate eyelashes dark against his skin. I listened fondly to the sound of his breathing, remembering how he had proven to me the results of his extensive experience. Although in theory, where and with whom he had learnt it all made me quite jealous, in practice I could not deny that I had rather enjoyed it. When he had actually gotten down to business, he had said a lot to me - not much of which I had actually understood, of course, since intense emotion thickened his accent to a point where his speech became unintelligable. I would have to ask him later what "so radgy" and "ah'm fair peched" meant...

Smiling fondly, I decided to get up and leave him to his dreams for a while. Withdrawing from the warmth of the bed, I pulled on a dark dressing-gown lying over the back of a chair and padded across the thick carpet and out of the bedroom.

* * *

On my way down the corridor, I passed an open door and a glow of light behind it caught my attention. I went back and noticed what it was: a posh-looking computer had been left on. Tutting inwardly about electricity waste (not that it would cut out much of
his
money), I went into the small study room to turn it off.

But then, when I arrived in front of it and moved the mouse to the start menu, I paused. A thought came to me...there was something I suddenly wanted to know. Changing plans, I instead clicked on an icon upon the desktop and the computer's web browser popped up. Then, biting my lip, I typed in an address I knew well - the address of the most notorious of inane celebrity gossip websites. The page loaded with lightning-fast speed, a big difference from my own computer, which took a good few minutes of grumpy patience. I looked at the familiar black background and garish logo; I had only been on this site occasionally, whenever I had wondered in those distant, grey days of solitude about what exotic escapade my famous Connor was on. Now I regarded it with some trepidation...but still my thirst to find what I was searching for made me press on.

With trembling hands, I clicked on the white "Search" bar and typed in: "
Connor MacGowan
". I pressed the Enter key, and a split second later a whole list of links to gossip articles appeared. I scrolled through them. Most were ones I remembered reading and sighing in hopeless, self-pity over...but others...

I scrolled up to the most recent one. My eyes widened as I read the date:
Posted Tuesday, 5th December at 10:37 a.m
. That was only a few days ago! Heart pounding, I clicked on it.

The page loaded almost immediately, and the title caught my eye. "
Connor MacGowan Gets Friendly With Mystery Woman
", it proclaimed in bold white letters. A hand slowly went to my mouth, then I quickly scrolled down to view the short article. My heart leapt in shock as I saw the picture beneath the heading - there was Connor, in his smart black jumper that showed off his well-toned body quite admirably, looking flawless as usual. He was standing beside some tall shrubbery, blocked from full view by the odd leafy branch here and there but still noticeably
Connor
, with his dark curls, handsome profile and bewitching grin. He was smiling down at a young woman about a head shorter than him, who was standing close in front of him and looking slightly comical in Connor's leather jacket, which was far too large for her. Her dark brown hair was blown by the wind, revealing her face, which was tilted up at Connor adoringly, smiling too. Connor's left hand was on the side of her neck, his right thumb gently resting upon her lower lip. My heart thudded against my ribs. It was
me
.
Me
, on a celebrity gossip site, for God's sake! I remembered that moment with Connor very well...This photo must have been taken on the day we went to the Red Terrace together, just after Connor had shed his jacket and dressed me in it instead, assuring me that he wasn't at all cold.

My face burned. I had no idea that somebody was spying on us, let alone taking
photos
. In another life, I had chuckled at Connor being harassed by the paparazzi in America and unleashing the full force of his Scottish temper upon them, but now I realised that this would be affecting
me
, as well. I was shocked by this invasion of our privacy - surely there was some form of law against it? But then I realised quickly that law bends around fame...

Beneath the photo stolen of our tender moment, there were thumbnails of a few other pictures - in one of which Connor was kissing me. How had we not known we weren't really alone? Of course, Connor
had
suspected it...but how could we have not noticed whoever it was watching us?