Relatively Famous (14 page)

Chapter
17

When I wake up I feel the warm ocean breeze caress my naked skin. I reach over for Drew and realize I’m alone. Another night without a single bad dream.

Hmmm, maybe he really does keep them away
.

I stretch and think about how perfect yesterday was. After the day of sailing, we had a light dinner and made love outside by a crackling fire that Drew started in the fire pit by the pool. How have I gone so long without regular sex? Grinning, I get out of bed
and go looking for Drew.

I find him sitting on one of the double chaises, staring out at the sea. He looks
uncharacteristically sad, so I tuck myself in next to him. “Hey,” he says, putting his arm around me.

“Hey, are you okay? You seem so
unhappy sitting here. Did you sleep okay?” I put my hand on his arm and rub my thumb back and forth over his warm skin.

“Yeah, I’m great. I’ve been checking emails, prepping for work. Just thinking about going back tomorrow and having to leave for California later in the week. About how little we know about each other. About how much I’ll miss you.” He turns to stare right into the depths of my eyes as he says the last part.

I swallow uneasily, he knows I hate talking about my past, but it clearly upsets him that we can’t be closer. He wants to be closer, I can feel it. He wants to confirm that I feel the same way before he leaves for work. And I do, I
want
to know about him. I just need more time to trust him with that part of me.

These feelings are still too new for me. I’m in uncharted territory, so used to putting up the wall and keeping everyone out, I can’t just turn it off at will. He told me I don’t have to answer anything that I don’t want to, so I have to trust that he’ll respect that.

“What do you want to know?” I ask quietly, watching the trees move in the gentle wind.

He sits up
straight and out of the corner of my eye, I can see that he has turned his upper body toward me. I can’t look at him though. I know he wants me to face him so he can stare me down with those damn green eyes of his, but I’m too uncomfortable. He’s way too observant.

“Why don’t you watch TV or read magazines or go to the movies?”

Straight for the jugular again, in true Drew style.

I take in a shaky
breath. “I….it’s just… I mean.”

He reaches out and pulls m
y chin so I have to look at him. “Sydney, you can trust me. I care about you.” His gaze captures me and I freeze, green to blue, his eyes burning into me, pleading with me to say something.

It feels as though my voice gets stuck in my throat as I speak.
“It has to do with my parents. Their divorce, it was ugly. It was public.” I screw my eyes shut. “That’s really all I can give you right now, I’m sorry.”

He shifts me so my legs drape sideways over his and
holds my face with his big, rough hands. I open my eyes and see his face in front of mine, an inch away from my lips. “Thank you, Sydney. For what it’s worth, I’m happy that you trust me, even if it’s only part of the story.”

Drew tilts his head and
slides his mouth over my lips. His scent invades my nostrils and his taste is on my tongue. I open my mouth and let him in. Moving together in a sensual dance that sends a flood of heat to my panties I climb onto his lap and grind against his shorts, running my hands up and down his broad chest. Drew leans away from me and I groan in displeasure, pouting.

“So, what do you
want to do on our last day here?”

“I thought I was showing you what I want to do today.” I tip my head back toward his
and suck his lower lip into my mouth, nipping it as I writhe against the bulge in his lap. He grunts as I shift back and forth on his lap without shame. I deftly unbutton his shorts and open his zipper; reaching in to grasp his cock firmly.

“Sydney,” he warns, “what are you doing to me?”

And somehow I know he doesn’t mean in just this moment physically, but what are we doing to each other’s minds and souls? He is changing me irrevocably, and is letting me know that he feels the same.

Since I can’t talk about it, about me,
I lift myself off his lap and push him down on the lounger, ripping down his shorts to unleash his thick shaft. I want this control-freak to give himself up to me this time.

I kneel down and lean in to taste the
salty bead of dew that clings to the end of his impressive length. “Fuck!” he cries and nearly bucks off of the chair when my tongue makes contact. I smile to myself and push him into my mouth as deep as he’ll go, reaching down and gently cupping his balls as I swirl my tongue around his cock. He grabs my hair in his fists and hisses out a barely restrained breath.

I love that I can
undo him like this. This big, confident, bossy man becomes mine when I take him this way. I slowly fuck him with my mouth, letting his length hit the back of my throat and then suck hard as I pull back. He’s panting and trying to increase the pace by pressing his hands on my head but I won’t let him. It’s my turn to torture him, and I love it.

He groans in
a combination of frustration and pleasure as I take him deep over and over again, at a slow leisurely pace, swirling my tongue over the tip each time I pull back. I look up and see him undone, his head thrown back, eyes rolled up in his head. His beautiful mouth is hanging slack and his breath is fast and uneven. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

I speed up and feel his balls tighten, sucking him harder and forcing him against my throat he comes into my mouth, yelling out a random jumble of words, my scalp burning from his tight fists that are tangled in my hair. I savor every drop and sit back next to him on the chair. Trying to catch his breath, he rakes his hand through his hair to push it off of his sweaty brow.

Drew grabs my face and kisses me passionately before lying back again, his chest still heaving. “That was without a doubt, the most intense orgasm of my entire life. You own me, Sydney.”

Right back at you Forrester
.

Chapter
18

“Merci, bonne journée. Thank you, have a nice day,” the saleswoman says to me as she hands me my bag.

“You too, thanks so much.” I put my sunglasses on and head back out into the Caribbean sun. I’ve been shopping for several hours, avoiding stores like Hermes and Gucci and instead spending time discovering all of the little boutiques that dot the streets of Gustavia. I found a
great pair of woven sling backs, a new dress for myself and a gorgeous handmade black coral bracelet for both my mom and Leah.

Philippe waits for me in a small lot nearby, sitting in the Mini Moke with his feet up on the dash and his eyes closed.

Is he asleep?

Well, I still have to find something for Drew. He declined coming shopping downtown with m
e, begging off to stay behind and check his email. His phone buzzes a lot. He eventually turned the notifications off, but I know he has tons to do for work.

I smile as I think about this morning’s activities. After the incident on the lounge chair, he scooped me up and made love to me slowly and sweetly in the bedroom, his green eyes staring into mine as we joined together perfectly.

I’m so unfamiliar with feeling this way. All of my thoughts and senses are consumed with Drew, drawn to him in ways I never knew possible. Twenty-four years and I’ve never even had a boyfriend, let alone fallen in love. Is that what this is?

Love?

The ringing of my phone snaps me from my reflecting and I dig through my bag for it. My service has been sketchy at the villa so I’m surprised that it works in town. Sitting at a
charming bistro table outside the stores, I look at the screen. It’s Jeff Talley from the Warren Hotel.

Interesting
.

“Hello Mr. Talley, how are you?” I chirp into the phone, my good mood evident as I rummage for a pen and pad ready to take notes for my client.

“Sydney! I’m great, just great, call me Jeff!” Wow, he’s happy today.

“That’s wonderful, Jeff. Is everything okay with the remodel? I’ll be there Tuesday to start the install as we discussed and….”

“No, no Sydney, everything’s going great with the club,” he interrupts. “I didn’t call because of a problem.” Jeff chuckles and continues, “I called because I have news to share with you.”

“News for me?”
Okaaaaay.
“Alright, Jeff, let’s have it. You sound pretty excited.” And he does sound excited. If I could see him I’d bet that he was jumping from one foot to the other, the man seems positively giddy.
Strange
. I roll my eyes as I imagine the uptight executive in his expensive suits with his perfectly styled gray hair and trim beard dancing with enthusiasm around his office.

“As you know, the Warren Hotel chain has a certain reputation in the industry for catering to young jet-setters. The launch of Verve is going to set the tone for our nightclub redesigns
worldwide. There’s been quite a lot of buzz over the opening of Verve, and due to extraordinary interest, we’ve scheduled our opening night party already.”

My heart jumps into my throat. How can he schedule the party when I haven’t even laid eyes on the pieces to be sure everything is correct? Mistakes can happen, furniture might not fit to spec, glassware can ship late…the possibilities are endless.

“But… I haven’t even been on site yet to see that everything will go as planned,” I croak, my mouth suddenly filled with sawdust. “I appreciate the confidence in me and my firm, but things can happen…”

He cuts me off agai
n, too excited to let me finish. “I have every faith in you Sydney. In fact, it’s because of you that Verve has attracted so much fascination.”
What the hell is he talking about?

“I’m not sure I understand…”

“No worries, Sydney. I just called to give you the date of the opening. It’s March 8
th
. I have a meeting to rush off to; we can talk more when I see you on Tuesday. Bye Sydney.”

My phone goes dead and
I stare at it in my hand. That was bizarre. No one schedules a huge opening night bash until the designer has a chance to inventory the pieces and at the very least, lay eyes on how the space is coming out. And March 8
th
is less than six weeks away.

Great, well, my vacation lasts until tomorrow morning, so I refuse to let this consume my last day here. I press my lips together
and toss my phone back into my bag. I still have to find something for Drew, so I force smile on my face and head for another shop.

Drew is on the phone when Philippe drops me back off at the
villa. As I cross the great room, I can see him sitting shirtless, on a lounger by the pool. The wall of windows is open today, and I don’t want to eavesdrop again, so I head into the master bedroom with my bags and stuff them in my suitcase.

I’m pretty excited by the purchase I made for Drew. It’s more of a joke than a serious gift, but I hope he’ll like the black baseball cap I found in a little tourist trap that says “Good Luck Charm” across the front in green script. I know it will never replace that
nasty Red Sox hat of his, but like they say it’s the thought that counts,
right
?

Chapter
19

“Sydney, we’re almost home.” Drew
is softly running his hands through my hair. I open my eyes and realize that at some point I fell asleep on the plane and I’m curled up on the couch with my head in Drew’s lap. “You need to put your seatbelt on, babe.”

Sitting up, I reach over to buckle the belt, but Drew beats me to it, wrapping it seductively around my waist and grinning as it snaps shut. “Thanks
.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispers and gives me a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep. How long was I out?”

“I can believe it, we didn’t exactly do a lot of sleeping these past few days
. You’ve been out about an hour.”

My mouth drops open from his statement. I close it quickly and try to look affronted, but start giggling when he winks at me and makes a hilarious face, wagging his eyebrows in a fake suggestive way.

Gail breezes into the cabin and makes sure we’re prepared for landing. She lets us know we’ll be on the ground in about fifteen minutes and leaves just as quickly as she came.
Where does she sit?

Looking out the windows, I see New York City below us, twinkling in the fading light as the sun sets. I love my home, it usually gives me comfort, but I’m sad to be leaving my isolation with Drew. I can be myself with him, with no pressure or worry that he’s using me. He’s fascinating and beautiful and makes me feel so safe and protected that my anxieties melt away when I’m with him. I feel
actual physical pain when I think that he’ll be leaving for California in a few days.

Drew promised me that he’ll be back several times during the six weeks that he’s gone, but I’m already so used to having him around that my life will seem so empty. He filled a void that I didn’t realize I had until I met him. After living my life alone for so long I can’t just go back to how it was before Drew. Now that I know what I’ve been missing in my life all this time, the loss of having him near me every day is crushing me. I’m afraid that my anxiety will come rushing back with a vengeance without him. Once again, I am at a total loss as to how to cope.

The pilots land the jet so smoothly I can barely feel the wheels contact the ground. Gail comes in and holds out our coats for us, “You’re not in the Caribbean anymore; the captain says it’s only forty degrees out.”

Drew thanks her and I slip into my jacket, pulling it up to hide my face so Drew won’t see the
panic that my wayward thoughts have plagued me with. He’s so good at reading my expressions, there’s no way he’ll miss this if I can’t control my negative feelings. The cabin door opens and Bruce comes up the stairs and gets our luggage, bringing a gust of cold wind with him.

The pilots are standing by the door with huge grins on their faces as we exit the plane, so we stop and shake their hands. “Mr. Forrester, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” They both shake Drew’s hand so enthusiastically and fawn over him that I wonder if they’re trying to suck up to him for a tip.

You don’t tip a pilot? Right?

I see Drew give them a threatening look out of the corner of my eye and the gushing stops immediately.
What the hell?
He’s probably pissed that they’re acting unprofessionally.

“Miss.” T
hey shake my hand with a lot more restraint, and I thank them for their hard work.

Drew insists on bringing my suitcase upstairs when he drops me off at my place. I don’t even bother to argue, I know he won’t listen. I’ve
already gotten used to his need to ‘take care’ of me all of the time. I find it charming and sweet even though I know my friend Leah, would find it bossy and oppressive.

It was dark in the car, so Drew couldn’t see the panic in my eyes on the ride from the airport. B
ut now inside, it’s brightly lit. I try to stare directly ahead at the elevator doors so he can’t get a good look at me. He stares at me as if his eyes were burning holes into my cheek, but I just ignore him. I know he’s getting either pissed off or worried, but I just want to get away from him without the third degree about my ‘feelings’. I don’t want him to think I’m some clingy bitch who gets all possessive after two weeks of dating.

The doors open and I
rush off of the elevator and shove my key into the lock. I dart inside and wait for him to set my bags down so I can hustle him back out. Drew being Drew, with his superhuman perceptiveness, walks down the hallway to bring my things to the bedroom. He’s refusing to acknowledge my need to get away from him.

He leaves me no choice but to follow him to my room. I’m surprised to find him sitting on one of the chairs I have near the windows, his gorgeous face lined with stress. I walk over and sink down into the other chair, waiting for him to say something. He just watches me, reading my face with those intelligent eyes. Looking through me and trying to dig out my secrets.

After what seems like an eternity, Drew speaks. “Sydney, are you upset with me?” He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, catching my gaze and holding it, willing me to open up. I see a little bit of fear on his face, hiding behind the confident facade.

“No, Drew. I’m not upset with you. I’ve had the best weekend. Really, it was wonderful. I’m…I guess I’m just nervous about work tomorrow.” I press my hands against my thighs, hoping he’ll accept my terrible lie.

He leans back and sighs, pausing before speaking again. “One of these days Sydney, I’ll get you to trust me. If you say it’s not me, then I believe you. But I don’t like leaving here knowing that you’re upset and won’t tell me why.” Drew reaches over and grabs my hands, clutching them in his. He brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, holding them in place for a moment.

He drops my hands and stands up and I follow suit, looking up at him through my wet eyes, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. “Drew. I’m sorry I can’t tell you. Please, be patient with me. I have…issues that I’m dealing with. And I
am
dealing with them. I don’t want you to feel like any of it is your fault. You’re perfect. This weekend was perfect.”

I stand on my toes and tentatively kiss him. He
’s unsure what’s going on so he stands there like a statue. When I slip out my tongue and run it over his lips, he puts his arms around me and kisses me fervently, as if he’s afraid this will be our last time.

When we stop to catch our breath he leans down and presses his forehead to mine
. “Whatever it is Sydney, it can’t be that bad. It won’t change how I feel about you. And hopefully, if you ever find out something about me that is unexpected or surprising, you won’t let it change your feelings for me. Call me tomorrow after you leave work.”

He looks down at me and instead of that open and sincere look he usually has,
I see is sadness. It cuts me deep to know that I’ve done this to him. “Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kisses me one last time and leaves.

I wait to hear the door to my loft close before I change my clothes and get into bed, crying myself to sleep
at my fucked-up inability to open up to him.

****

“Hey, you need to leave.” I pull on my pants and turn to face the guy on my couch. “Seriously.”

“What’s the hurry, gorgeous?” The handsome guy in my living room is still not moving to put his clothes on and leave my loft. “I’m getting ready for round two.” He smiles, his good-looking frat
boy face fully confident that he’s staying. He probably never gets told no.

“I told you when we met at the club earlier that you couldn’t stay. I mean
t it. Start getting dressed.” I throw his shirt at him and he looks a little stunned.

“You really want me to leave?” He sits up and puts on his shirt, covering his ripp
ed twenty-one year old body. It’s a shame to cover up those abs, but I need him to go, now.

“Yes. We had sex, that’s it. I don’t do anything else. No overnights, no conversations, no relationships. No strings, remember? And I have class early in the morning. Finals week.” I finish getting the rest of my clothes on and stand rigid, waiting for him to follow suit.

He shrugs. “Okay, whatever you want, beautiful.” That’s the good thing about young guys in New York, they don’t expect much and don’t care if you treat them like shit. He ties his boots and stands up.

“Hey, isn’t that Evangeline Allen?” He’s walking over to my fireplace and looking at my photos.

Fuck!

I never bring guys here; we always go to their place so I can leave immediately after. But he lives in Brooklyn and I live two blocks from Optic, the club where I met whoever this guy is. His place was geographically undesirable,
he was hot, and I wanted to get laid. Stupid mistake.

I
snatch the photo from his hand. “No, it’s not. That’s my friend, she’s a celebrity impersonator. Please leave.” I put my hands on my hips and stare him down.

“What did you say your name was again?” he asks, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes.

“I didn’t, now go.” I open the front door to my loft and wait.

“Whatever, thanks for the awesome fuck
, gorgeous.” He turns and walks out and I slam the door behind him.

Shit
.

****

I tap my foot as I wait in the third floor conference room of the Warren Hotel. Jeff Talley was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago and I’m becoming impatient. I woke up from another bad dream with a blinding headache. Two cups of coffee and four ibuprofen have done nothing to stop the pounding in my temples.

That’s what you get for crying half the night, dummy
.

I chastise myself as I rub my forehead. Not only did I wake with a migraine, but the crying has erased any positive effects that the last few days of relaxation have had
, so the dark circles under my eyes are back with a vengeance. I check my iPhone again, no texts, no emails, no missed calls. Jeff hasn’t even sent anyone to make sure I’m not dead.

I wonder if I should just go up to the 53
rd
floor to Verve. Was I supposed to meet him there and not in this conference room? I double check the last email from him. Nope, it clearly says 9am in conference room three. I’m about to get up and start pacing the room when the door opens and Jeff comes striding into the room throwing apologies at me as he shakes my hand.

“Sydney, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get off the phone. It was a very important call from the U.K. In fact, it has to do with the nightclub opening so I needed to take it so I could discuss it with you afterwards. Would you like anything?”

“I would love some water, Jeff. Thank you.” I straighten my clothes and wait for him to begin.

He presses a button on the phone and asks for a pitcher of ice water and a carafe of coffee to be brought up to us. Jeff looks at me with a very satisfied grin on his face. He’s normally very polished and professional, but today he’s chatting with me like we’re best friends. “Sydney, when we last spoke I gave you the date for the launch party for Verve.”

“Yes, Jeff, but…”

Too
excited to wait, he interrupts. “Well, I mentioned that the buzz around the opening has increased which is why we wanted to go ahead and schedule the party even though construction isn’t finished yet.”

Isn’t finished? It’s barely even started. I haven’t even set foot in the space in almost a month!

He holds up a finger to keep me from jumping in. “We have you to thank for that attention, Sydney.” Leaning forward he lowers his voice and speaks like we’re sharing a secret. “Why didn’t you ever mention that you were friends with Adam Reynolds?”

Holy crap, the article!

I’ve been so wrapped up in Drew that I completely forgot about that damn GQ interview.

“Jeff, I know it seemed as though Adam and I are great friends, but really, he’s just an acquaintance.”

Jeff smirks like he doesn’t believe me.

I want to slap that look right off of your face buddy!

His secretary breezes in with the drinks and leaves. Jeff pours me an ice water and I drink it gratefully, my mouth parched.

“You don’t have to be modest that you have famous friends. Adam Reynolds had his PR guy call the other day and
ask for an invite to the party. I just hung up with him to finalize the details. He specifically wants to go as
your
date. I think he was disappointed that you didn’t invite him personally.” He sits back smugly, convinced that he caught me lying about my relationship with Adam.

“Th-th-that’s ridiculous!” I jump to my feet to stand behind my chair. “I’m not going to the launch party with Adam! First, I don’t attend functions that include lots of celebrities and paparazzi, ever. Second, I’m seeing someone and it certainly isn’t Adam Reynolds! And third, I don’t have his phone number so how would I even invite him?”

I’m trying to contain my anger, but this scenario is exactly what I was talking about when I told Leah why I would never date someone like Adam. Jeff is trying to use me to get publicity for his club via Adam. And, if I showed up with him, I’d have to walk the red carpet and do interviews and pose for photos, which I refuse to do. These club openings always have in-house photographers mingling inside, snapping pictures of all of the famous people drinking and dancing and enjoying the new venue. It’s everything I’ve spent years avoiding rolled up into one giant disastrous event.