Obsession (44 page)

He smiled. ‘Feel good?’

She nodded, then her eyes closed as he leaned forward to kiss her. As he did he increased the pressure of his fingers and Corrie almost collapsed.

‘Come on,’ he said, gruffly, ‘let’s go upstairs.’

‘No!’ Corrie gasped as he started to remove his hand. His eyes shot to her face and what he saw there brought his mouth crushing down on hers.

He took her right there, against the table, his jeans around his knees and her legs around his waist. Corrie clung to him, hardly able to breathe. The way he was pushing into her was more erotic than anything she’d ever known. It was as though he knew every secret part of her, how to touch it, to stroke it then set it ablaze with unparalleled ecstasy.

He pushed her back, lifting her breasts in his hands. The power of his erection was incredible, he’d never dreamt she’d feel this good. He moved faster, and harder, feeling her abandon herself to him. She was driving him wild, but he made himself hold on.

‘Jesus Christ!’ he seethed, as the first grasp of her muscles tightened around him.

‘Cristos,’ she moaned, ‘Oh, Cristos.’ Tears were streaming down her face as she buried it in his shoulder. ‘I can’t,’ she sobbed, ‘Cristos, I can’t.’

‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘I’m right with you. Oh, babe!’ he cried as his own orgasm threatened to explode.

He was holding her so close now that he could feel her rubbing against him. He ground himself savagely against her, burying himself so deep inside her until at last, as she cried out, he knew he had her.

‘Let it go,’ he whispered. ‘Just let it go. That’s it … Oh, yes …’

And as her climax erupted around him, pulling him into her, gripping him, kneading him and holding him, he felt the semen start to rush from his body. She cried out his name, and he pumped harder, prolonging the exquisite pain until eventually she turned limp in his arms and there was no strength left in his body.

It was a long time before he lifted his head to look at her, and seeing that she was still dazed he kissed her softly on the mouth, smoothing the hair from her face. Her lips parted in a whimper as he eased himself away, then she smiled shyly up into his eyes.

‘You OK?’ he whispered.

She nodded. But when her feet touched the floor she was still too weak to stand. He held her, kissing her and chuckling quietly while she waited for her strength to return.

‘Coffee?’ he said.

‘Mm.’

He helped her dress, then taking her by the hand led her into the kitchen and sat her on a stool. She watched him moving about as he made the coffee, then blushed and looked away as he turned round. Folding his arms, and leaning back against the counter behind him, he looked at her with that all absorbing attention she’d seen him give the actors that day.

‘Your face is like an open book,’ he told her.

‘Sorry.’

‘What for?’ he laughed. ‘Because for the first time in your life a man has made you come?’

Corrie felt the blush sink right to the roots of her hair. ‘How do you know that?’ she whispered.

‘I told you, it’s in your eyes.’ He turned away to pour the coffee, and knew she was still watching him with that same expression of awe. He threw her a look over his shoulder, and this time Corrie grinned, wryly.

‘Was I … I mean, was it good for you too?’ she asked quietly.

‘Sure,’ he said.

Corrie’s face fell. She didn’t really know what she’d been expecting him to say, but she’d hoped for more than that.

Bringing the coffee across to where she was, he perched on the stool next to her and lifted her face. ‘It was better than good,’ he said, ‘now drink your coffee.’

‘You’re patronizing me,’ she told him.

He grinned, then she laughed too as a sudden rush of happiness erupted inside her.

She sipped her coffee as he turned to play back the messages on the answerphone beside him, and feeling as though she was eavesdropping she started to concentrate on her surroundings. His kitchen, for all its stark whiteness, was every bit as well equipped as the one at the mansion, though nowhere near the size – and it wasn’t kosher compatible either, she smiled to herself. The bar at which they were sitting opened out onto a sitting room, and though the only light came from the kitchen she could see the low, cushioned sofas haphazardly arranged around a neat grey marble fireplace, and the threadbare Oriental rugs scattered across the wooden floor. The whole of one wall was made up of French windows which led out onto a terrace, where a single coach lamp illuminated the Italian villa style arches. She imagined there was probably a swimming pool somewhere out there too, maybe even tennis courts, and she guessed that they would be as tastefully unadorned as everything else.

Eventually she looked back at him, and as she watched his hand move across the page, jotting down the names of his callers, Corrie could feel the dread mounting in her. Please God, don’t let there be a woman’s voice, she prayed silently. Please, don’t let anything happen to spoil tonight.

But there was a woman’s voice, the very last one on the tape, and Cristos turned to look at Corrie, grinning as the beautifully-accented voice told him that his mother was just calling to find out how the movie was coming along.

‘She thinks of it as her movie,’ he told Corrie, as he turned off the machine. ‘She found the book, handed it to me and told me to go get her the Palme d’Or.’

‘And are you going to?’

‘I’m sure as hell gonna try,’ he laughed.

Corrie felt herself smiling too. ‘I take it you get along well with your mother,’ she said.

‘Sure I do. My father too. You’re looking surprised.’

Corrie thought about that for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I am. In England we only ever seem to hear about broken families in the States. Where do your parents live?’

‘Philadelphia.’

‘But they’re not American?’

‘Uh-uh. My mother’s French, my father’s Italian.’

As he got up to refill their cups, he began telling Corrie of how his parents had met, at the outbreak of World War II when the Italians had invaded the South of France. He made her laugh about his mother’s horror at falling in love with the enemy, but it was a touching story too and Corrie listened raptly as he told it. Then she found herself telling him things about her own childhood, making him laugh with the way she described the people from Amberside and their little idiosyncrasies. Somehow then they got onto the subject of Los Angeles and it was evident that he found her views on it highly amusing. It was only when he got up to refill their cups for the third time that it occurred to Corrie he was probably only being polite, and was actually waiting for her to go. Immediately she started to look around for a telephone, trying hard to swallow the crushing disappointment she felt at having to leave. Surely there must be a phone next to the answering machine, but there didn’t seem to be.

‘You’re not listening to me,’ he said, coming to sit back down.

‘I am,’ she declared. ‘You were telling me that you didn’t know yet whether or not
Past Lives Present
was going to be
selected
for Cannes, and that someone from the Festival will be coming over here soon to take a look at the script and your dailies.’

He nodded, and Corrie saw that he was laughing at her.

She looked around again. ‘Can I call a cab from here?’ she asked.

‘Why? You going some place?’

‘Well, I thought that now we’ve … I thought …’

He leaned towards her and putting a finger under her chin lifted her face to look at him. ‘Sleep with me tonight, Corrie Browne?’ he said.

Corrie very nearly melted at the sonorous intimacy in his voice, and in truth Cristos himself was surprised by how badly he wanted her to stay. In fact right at that moment he just as badly wanted to hold her.

‘What do you say?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

He smiled, and taking the cup from her hand he put it on the counter. Corrie was gazing deep into his eyes as he pulled her to her feet, then, at last finding the courage that had eluded her all night, she put a hand either side of his shadowed face and pulled his mouth down to hers.

‘You know what you’re doing to me?’ he murmured, when she let him go.

Smiling, Corrie said, ‘I think I’m getting an idea.’

‘Are you gonna let me take you upstairs this time?’

She nodded.

When they walked into his bedroom and stood in the shadows of the moonlight coming through the unshuttered windows Corrie was looking down at the low, tapestry covered king-sized bed. There was such a sadness in her that it was as though she might drown in it. But, she told herself, she wasn’t going to allow herself to think about the other women who had been there before, women far more beautiful and worldly than she would ever be. Women who had mattered to him, maybe still did. No, she wasn’t going
to
let anything spoil tonight, because it was a night she wanted to remember for the rest of her life.

Cristos was standing behind her, and turning her into his arms he looked deeply into her eyes. He wasn’t too sure what was happening here, but he did know that it was a whole lot more than he’d expected. He knew too that she was thinking of herself as a one night stand. He didn’t want her to feel that way, but damn it, there was nothing he could say to reassure her, because she was right, that was all she was going to be.

‘Is something the matter?’ she asked, and when he saw the fear steal into her eyes he suddenly pulled her to him and held her very tight.

‘This isn’t only for tonight, you know that don’t you?’ he heard himself murmur, and then he was searching for her lips, wanting to kiss her so bad his whole body ached for it.

‘I’d like you to make love to me now,’ Corrie said shakily, when he let her go.

‘You would?’ he smiled, caressing her cheek with his fingers in a way she was already coming to love. ‘Then how about we get into bed?’

As they undressed there was a choking knot of emotion tightening in Corrie’s throat. She could hardly believe what he had said, or how deep her feelings were running because of it. Such joy and tenderness flowed through her veins that it seemed to melt the very core of her heart. She loved him, she knew that, she could feel it so strongly that there was nothing else in her.

Then he turned towards her and her lips parted as she saw the sheer beauty of his naked body. He wanted her – he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. She was still in her underwear and with movements that seemed almost fluid he turned her round and unfastened her bra. Letting it fall to the floor he took her breasts in his hands, then lifted the hair from her neck to kiss it.

Resting her head back on his shoulder, Corrie could feel his hardness pressing against her. His hands were so gentle, his breath so warm on her skin. Then he was turning her in his arms, and when he kissed her his mouth was so tender she though she might cry.

Taking her hand he led her to the bed and laid her down. The flicker of a smile seemed to pass through his eyes as he looked at her, and she lifted her hips for him to take down her knickers.

‘You feel good here,’ he said, touching a finger to the moist flesh between her legs.

Corrie murmured, and as he started to stroke her, her eyes closed and her knees drifted apart. He was still stroking her as he took each of her distended nipples in his mouth and sucked gently. Then his fingers took her nipples and his tongue was where his fingers had been.

A long time later he lifted his head and saw that her orgasm had exhausted her. But as he made to take her in his arms she pushed him away, and started to slide down the bed.

A groan escaped him as her mouth closed over him and as she started to suck his hands fell to his sides and his head was turning from side to side.

He didn’t want to come in her mouth, but she made him. She stayed with him until every last drop had left him. Only then did she let him go, and sitting back on her knees in the strange silvery light she looked at him.

‘Come here,’ he said.

She lay down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and listened to the beat of his heart. He wanted to say something to her, but he just didn’t know what. So he held her, and stroked her, and kissed her.

When Corrie woke the next morning it was to find the bed empty beside her. There was a note though, telling her where to find everything, but saying nothing more than
that
. She tried not to mind, to reassure herself with the things he had said and done the night before, but she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he wasn’t there, or that he hadn’t put something a little more intimate in his note.

Then suddenly she noticed the time and shot out of bed. They were shooting at nine and already it was past eight o’clock. It wasn’t until she stepped out of the shower though, and wrapped herself in his robe, that she started to wonder how the hell she was going to get back to Felicity’s when she didn’t even know where she was. She laughed at her mawkish romanticism then, as she reflected on how wonderful it would be to remain stranded here for ever. To spend her days pampering herself in that enormous caramel bath, or soaping his magnificent body beneath all those shower jets when he returned after a hard day.

She was touched to find that he had hung her dress in his closet, but slipped into it quickly, now really pressed for time.

She was running down the stairs, raking her fingers through her hair and reluctantly coming to the conclusion that only Luke could help her out, since he was the only one who knew where Cristos lived, when she thought she heard voices coming from the kitchen. She stopped. Yes, she definitely could, but neither of them were Cristos’s.

‘Hi there,’ Jeannie said as Corrie walked into the kitchen, clearly not in the least surprised to see her there. ‘Like some coffee?’

‘Um, uh, yes, thank you,’ Corrie answered, quickly realizing that the Mexican looking woman must be the maid.

‘Cristos had me come back for you,’ Jeannie explained, as she poured the coffee. ‘He guessed you probably didn’t know where you were, so I’m here to drive you wherever you gotta go.’