Relatively Famous (9 page)

Chapter
9

“What about this one?” I hold up a slinky silver Naeem Khan cocktail dress for Leah’s approval.

“Ooooh, I’ll definitely have to try that one on.” Leah snatches it from me and looks it over as I trail her through Bergdorf’s designer dress department.

Leah has a date tonight with a guy she met at the opening night party for her dad’s latest Broadway show. She refuses to allow a personal shopper to choose dresses for her to try on, preferring to subject me to
a day of torture on 5
th
Avenue.

Luckily
, her upcoming date has given her temporary amnesia, so she hasn’t asked me about Drew all afternoon. I know she’ll push me to have “the talk” with him, once she knows we’ve done the deed. Spectacularly. Over and over all night.
Hmmmmm, I wish Drew would call….

“Sydney! Hellooo!” Leah snaps her fingers in front of me to break me from my fantasy.

“Huh?” Real intelligent response, Syd.

“I said, do you think Carter will like this one?” She’s impatiently holding up a short, tight, black and whit
e color-block Stella McCartney.

“It’s gorgeous, Leah. I’m sure any of these dresses will knock him out. Let’s get over to the fitting room so we can see them on you.” I spin her around and nudge her forward, eager to have a few minutes to sit and think. And rest my feet. Crap
, these boots were a bad idea for a day of shopping with Leah. She listens to me for once, and heads over to try on the clothes.

We load all of the dresses into the huge private fitting room, and I sit on one of the couches to wait. I retrieve my phone from my purse and wonder why in the hell Leah won’t use a personal shopper, or even allow a sales person to help us when we come here. She says it’s because she doesn’t like the “snooty attitude” or the “close scrutiny”
, whatever the heck that means.

Three years ago she got ripped apart on Page Six for a dress that a personal shopper at Bloomingdale’s chose for her, I think she believes that they’ll put her in something hideous on purpose and c
onvince her she looks stunning.

Checking my phone I see a missed call and a text from work.
No texts or calls from Drew
. Is it desperate and needy to text him? We spoke yesterday, and have plans to see each other tonight. He wants me to come over so he can make dinner for me. Apparently, he loves cooking, which explains his enthusiastic conversation with the chef at Sunset House the other night. I decide not to over think anything and go with my gut, typing out a quick text.

Hey, stuck in hell at Bergdorf’s with Leah. Can’t wait for tonight.

I smile and start to run through my emails, oohing and aahhhing at the various dresses as Leah models each one for me. Good, some of the furniture for Verve will be ready in ten days. That’s the fastest rush job for custom furniture ever. I call Jeff Talley and confirm that the demolition is almost complete. We discuss the remodel and I let him know that the painters will be there next week. Pressing end, I feel satisfied that the project is going well. I’m glad he didn’t mention Adam’s reference to me in GQ. Maybe they won’t see it?

Yeah, right. Because no one wants free publicity for their big nightclub launch from a “huge” celebrity in a major magazine. Crap.

Just as I start to feel the anxiety from the whole Adam thing creeping in, my phone chirps…

Only you would think Bergdorf’s is hell. Bring your appetite tonight! The car will get you at six.

Drew, he’s so adorable.

I sigh and lean back on the couch. I decide that I can’t do anything about Adam or the article, so it’s pointless to worry about it
right now. I look up and suck in a breath, Leah is trying on a shimmering blue-violet, sequined Gucci minidress. “Leah, that’s the one. Get that one.” She grins and twirls for me like a little girl in her first tutu
.

Yep, she’s going to get that one.

Chapter
10

Sitting in the back seat of the Town Car, I nervously smooth my hair down for the hundredth time. Drew said casual, so I’m wearing faded black skinny jeans and a beaded black t-shirt with black ballet flats. I figured black was a good call in case I became a nervous wreck and splattered food on myself. My phone scares the hell out of me as it alerts me to a text.

Wish me luck! Leaving in 10 for my date! Xoxo

Leah. I’m sure she looks gorgeous. After shopping, she had an appointment to get her hair done. She could wear a burlap bag and Drew’s ugly old hat and still be stunning. I laugh at the thought of that hat as I type out a response…

You don’t need luck, you’re you! Call me tomorrow. Xoxo

The car comes to a stop in front of Drew’s place in Chelsea. I told him I would walk, since it’s only a few blocks from my place, but he said he’d feel ungentlemanly making me walk in the dark for our date. I think it’s more of this control-freak, bossy thing he has going on, but if he wants to send a car I won’t argue with him.

Ungentlemanly
. Who says that?

D
rew’s driver helps me out of the car. Bruce said that he’s been working for Drew for six years. I like him. Not only did he rescue me off of the sidewalk when I fell, he made me laugh on the way over to help me relax a little so now I’m indebted to him twice.

When Bruce releases my hand I look up and am momentarily struck dumb. I’m standing in front of a magnificent four story
brownstone on a charming tree lined street. Does he own the whole building? He didn’t give me an apartment number, so I’m assuming that the brownstone isn’t divided into condos.
Wow. Drew is rich. Like really really rich
. Money doesn’t usually impress me since I’ve had it my whole life, but I begin to wonder what he does for a living, and that shocks me. I never want to know such personal things about anyone.

Bruce waits for Drew to open the front door before he climbs back in the car and disappears into the thick traffic. “Hey, you look gorgeous,” he says as he stands there in jeans and a
black t-shirt, his hair just as messy and touchable as ever.

Delicious.

“Please come in.” Drew steps aside to allow me into his home.

“Thanks, this is beautiful, Drew.” Before I can say anything else, he grabs my hand, wraps his
strong arms around me and leans down, capturing my mouth and kissing me deeply. Drew pulls back, his green eyes dark with desire. My nerves have vanished and have been replaced with a low thrumming deep in my core.

“Sorry,” he says in a husky voice. “I couldn’t wait to do that. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.”
Holy shit!
Drew releases me too quickly for my liking and helps me out of my coat. “Come, I have wine chilling. We can drink while I finish dinner.” Twining his warm fingers with mine, he leads me up a flight of stairs to the kitchen.

Drew’s brownstone is incredible. Dark hardwood floors and high ceilings, my interior designer is itching to explore every square
inch of this place. He brings me into a room that must occupy most of the second floor. The kitchen is bright and open, rustic and industrial. It’s very masculine, and everything you could want in a kitchen. Drew pulls out one of the twisted wire barstools at the massive island and gestures for me to sit.

“I hope you like filet.” He smiles widely as he pours me a glass of red wine.
That dimple, I want to lick it.
I vaguely register that soft music is playing in the background.

“I love it. It smells wonderful in here. What can I do to help?” I start to get up but he stops me.

“I’ve got everything. I want you to sit there and we can talk while I finish up.” Hmmm, I was right, control freak. He turns to take out two plates and places them on the island. Grabbing a bowl from next to the sink, he dishes out two arugula and chickpea salads onto each dish. He is damn sexy in the kitchen, I think as I sip my wine and watch the sinewy muscles in his arms flex as he cooks.

We comfortably chat about my day at Bergdorf’s with Leah, and the upcoming install at the Warren Hotel nightclub. He tells me about his trip to Chelsea Market to get our steaks from a shop that specializes in buying from small local farms. I find out that he has a passion for cooking and let him know that I love eating, but will burn spaghetti if allowed near the stove
. I don’t mention that I actually have burned spaghetti before
. The food is delicious, the filet melts in my mouth and the look on his face as I enjoy his food sparks the desire that took a backseat during our meal.

After dinner, Drew leads me up another flight of stairs to a huge living area. I gasp as I walk over to the windows that span the back wall of the room. “You have a view of the Empire State Building!”

Ugh! I sound like a tourist!

Yet I continue ba
bbling like an idiot. “I love looking out at the city. It relaxes me. I could sit in this room and look at this view all day.”

“Me too,”
Drew says from behind me. Turning, I find him staring at me, not out the window, and feel that damn blush spreading up my neck and face.

Embarrassed, I drop my gaze and wander over to the bookshelves that flank the slate fireplace. He has a lot of books about baseball, history, cooking, fly fishing; I smile at those, and other fiction novels. I notice a few family photos, a pretty young woman with tousled brown hair laughing with her arm around Drew, and photos of Drew with the same woman and an older couple as well as Drew alone with the older couple.

His arm snakes around my waist as he pulls my back to his front and his warm breath caresses my ear. “My sister, Allie, and my parents.” He answers my unspoken question, probably well aware that I won’t ask it out loud. His perceptiveness astounds me. He kisses my neck and lightly rakes his teeth across my skin, causing heat to rush between my legs.

I see another photo of Drew on the field of a baseball stadium, posing with a player from the Boston Red Sox, both of
them wearing sunglasses and smiling. “Meeting Red Sox catcher Trevor Caldwell at Fenway Park. That was a great day,” Drew explains. He loves his team, that’s for sure.

Hoping to change the subject so he won’t ask about my family, I turn and lead him toward the couch. Placing my glass of wine on the end table, I
he lets me push him down so I can straddle his lap.

“Sydney,
Jesus,” he breathes as I run my hands through his soft hair. I give it a small, sharp tug, and he unleashes the desire that he’s been holding back since I got here. Drew grips my hips and roughly thrusts against me, dragging me back and forth across his hardness, creating a delectable friction against my center.

I gasp and claw at his shirt, eager to taste the skin on his perfect torso.
He makes me crazy with want, and the look that he’s giving me lets me know he feels the same. He lets go of my hips just long enough to help me undress him. I toss his shirt carelessly to the floor and lave his defined chest with my tongue, his scent permeating every molecule of my body and igniting it with passion.

“Drew,” I murmur as I suckle the skin on his neck, devouring every inch of him, unable to get close enough. I could taste his skin for hours, it’s intoxicating.

He pushes me back and lifts my shirt over my head, hastily unsnapping my bra and dropping it behind us. “Christ, so fucking gorgeous, Syd. You drive me insane wanting to be inside you.” My wet channel throbs at his words as I writhe against his sheathed erection.

Lowering his head he captures a swollen nipple in his mouth and pulls it taut with his teeth, his hair dragging against my collarbone. He’s driving me wild with sensation, commanding my body to respond to every one of
his touches, every one of his words.

“I want to pleasure you in every way, Sydney,” he says as he
takes his time, kneading one ripe mound with his hand and teasing the other one roughly with his mouth, sucking and pulling and biting relentlessly.

My slick sex clenches at
the hot breath against my breast and I can feel the orgasm consuming me like an open flame. Arching back I scream his name as electricity pulses through my body, pouring out from my core. Drew continues gently circling my nipple with his tongue, and brings his mouth up to mine as I return from my high.

“That was incredible, and a first for me,” I whimper against his lips.
Who knew you could come like that?

“I’d like to have a lot of firsts with you, Sydney.” He stares into my eyes, that honest expression on his face.

Then as if a switch were flicked, his eyes darken and he curls his fists into my hair, pressing his demanding mouth against mine. He thrusts his tongue in deep, licking and tasting as his lips assault me. Moving his hands down to my ass, he grips me tightly and stands up, turning and putting me down on the couch.

Before he can take charge again, I reach up and hook my fingers into his belt loops, yanking him to me so he’s standing between my legs
. I’m determined to get my way this time. With a wicked grin on my face, I open my mouth and slowly drag my teeth down the hard bulge in his jeans. “I want to taste you, Drew.”

“Jesus,” he pants as closes his eyes and throws his head back.

He hasn’t stopped me so I hungrily unzip his pants and reach in to release his gorgeous cock. Licking my lips I lean forward and take him into my mouth, all hot, smooth, and hard, circling around him with my tongue. “Fuck, Sydney,” Drew says in between loud breaths.

I smile and wrap my hands around his backside to pull him deeper into my mouth, feeling his length hit the back of my throat. I
revel in his pleasure, the sexy noises he makes as I move him in and out, swirling my tongue around his cock with each thrust.

“Shit, stop.” His eyes are blazing as he pushes me back and moves
frantically, his willpower shredded. Grabbing my shoes he yanks them off and discards them on the floor. In seconds he has my jeans and panties off and has shed his own clothes, stopping only to remove a condom from his back pocket and roll it on.

He picks me up as if I weigh no more than a feather, sits on the couch and pulls me down onto him forcefully, hissing as he buries his thick cock all the way into me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I love the way you feel.”

He encourages me to move,
wrapping his hands around my hips and lifting me up and down. I groan as he penetrates deep with each thrust. I grip his wide shoulders and grind down onto his lap and that’s all it takes to send me spiraling into another shattering orgasm, calling out his name as I spasm. Drew drives into me a few more times before loudly finding his own climax moments later.

Breathless, I press my cheek against his damp chest
so I can listen to his rapidly beating heart as it slows. He brings his arms around me, pulling me even closer, brushing a soft kiss on the top of my head.

What the hell am I doing?

Bright morning light hits the back of my eyelids, making me want to roll over and cover my head with my pillow. I can’t move though, because Drew’s massive body is wrapped around me.

After our frenzied session on the couch, he carried me upstairs to his bed and we discovered each other again slowly
before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Enjoying my
rare moment of happiness, I look past the foot of the bed and out the glass that makes up an entire wall of his bedroom. My eyes fix on the top of the Empire State Building, jutting up tall and proud from the surrounding buildings, just like Drew would stand out in a crowd. Usually, the city diminishes my anxiety, but this morning, I see that one building drawing focus from everything around it and stress prickles up my neck.

I don’t want to be the Empire State Building, everyone staring and pointing at it. I want to be in the blind mass of smaller structures, invisible, unexceptional. Can I be with Drew and still be unseen? I choke down my fear and burrow further into Drew’s chest
, deeply inhaling his scent. I know that I sleep better with him than I have in a long time. No nightmares, no memories, no waking up in the middle of the night feeling as if my heart is going to explode. He can protect me from that, right?

I feel Drew kiss
ing the back of my neck and decide to file my worries for another time along with everything else I refuse to acknowledge.
Like hopefully never
.

“Good morning,” he breathes as
his hands roam over my curves.

“Good morning yourself,” I respond playfully, hoping he doesn’t hear the fear in my voice.
Attempting to distract him, I push my backside against his very obvious arousal.

“Is that how it is?” He shifts his hand down between my thighs and slides a finger down my wet folds. “I think
you want me again, Miss Allen.”

“I always want you,” I murmur.
I press back against him harder as he finds my small center of pleasure and circles it tortuously. His hand withdraws and I feel him move away. I’m about to protest, when I hear him rip open a condom.

Drew circles his arm back around me and slips his deft fingers back onto my sex. Needing all of him to erase my fears, I reach back and grasp his cock, pos
itioning it to slide inside me.