The Submission of Alistair Ingram (14 page)

His
fingertips traced the scars on her lower back and she flinched. “You’re
beautiful,” he said. “How could anyone do this to you?”

She
knew he wasn’t expecting an answer, and she wouldn’t have given him one anyway.
That life was far behind her now.

Alistair
set the brush down. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll be right behind you.”

He
brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck before stepping away and
opening the shower door for her.

Bethany
stepped in, letting the spray of hot water drench her. Through the mottled
glass, she watched Alistair undress. She tried not to feel shy, but she did,
and it had nothing to do with being naked. She’d never been so out of her
element.

He
opened the door and stepped into the large shower behind her. She’d noticed the
second showerhead and body sprays on the wall behind where he stood, but he
didn’t move to turn them on. Instead, he stepped close to her, as close as he
could be without touching her, and stood under the stream of water.

Without
a word, he picked up a soft cloth, lathered it with soap and began washing her
neck and chest where he’d dripped the melted ice cream. His touch was so gentle
she could barely stand it. She was used to rough. Too hard and fast and filled
with dark energy.

“Relax,”
he said, turning her toward the water to rinse. She leaned back against him,
and his fingers threaded through her hair, massaging shampoo into her scalp.
Bubbles ran down her shoulders over her breasts, and she closed her eyes,
drinking in the warmth and closeness of Alistair’s body.

The
shower was like a cocoon. As long as she was here with him, she would be okay.
Nothing would find her here. Not her past and not his crazy life.

“Run
away with me,” he said, turning her to face him and gently tilting her head
back into the water.

“I
already did run away with you,” she said, and couldn’t help but laugh, because
it didn’t feel like running away from something. It felt like running
to
someone.

Alistair’s
fingers ran through her hair, rinsing the bubbles. “But I haven’t. What do you
think about Cozumel?”

Bethany
reached for the shampoo and put a dime-sized amount into her palm. “I’ve never
been anywhere outside of the U.S.” She reached up and ran her fingers through
his messy, blond hair. He leaned in her hands and closed his eyes.

“Then
it’s about time you’ve gone somewhere. Do you have a passport?”

She
nodded. A wave of sorrow and anxiety crested in her stomach. “I was supposed to
go to The Bahamas for my honeymoon with my ex.” Her voice trembled, and
Alistair clutched her against him.

“You
don’t have to tell me what happened—why you didn’t go—unless you want to,” he
said, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “So, Cozumel. We’ll fly into Vegas first
to pick up your passport. Then we’re out of here, relaxing on the beach. I’ll
take you snorkeling. Can you swim?”

Bethany
turned them so Alistair was under the water rinsing his hair. “No. My childhood
wasn’t really the bike-riding, swimming-in-the-summer kind.”

“Well,
that’s why they make lifejackets.” He smoothed conditioner into her hair, then
picked up the wash cloth again. “I know you don’t want me trying to fix your
life,” he said, running the cloth up and down her back and over her bottom,
“but I’d like to make you laugh as much as I can. It’s a sound I’m kind of
addicted to hearing, and it doesn’t happen as often as it should.”

Just
hearing his crazy words made her laugh. How could Alistair Ingram possibly be
addicted to anything about her?

“Mmm,”
he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love that sound.” He ran his
washcloth-covered hand over her breasts, down her stomach, and between her
legs.

Her
laughter turned to gasps and moans as he continued the rub and slide of his
hand.  She felt herself losing control and held on to his shoulders, her hips
grinding against his fingers.

“Let
me inside you,” he said, his low, deep voice sending a flush of heat through
her center.

She
ached to have him push inside her, to feel him deep and hard, filling her. But,
could she let him? Could she let herself—give herself over completely? “I don’t...I
haven’t…” her words fell short, taken over by a pulsing threatening to pull her
under.

“You
can with me,” he said, dropping his hand just as she was about to come and
nudging her legs open with his knee. He bent his knees, and his hard cock slid
through her folds and found her opening. His hands rested on the sides of her
face, tilting it up to look into her eyes with his own, lust-filled and dark
with need.

“You
can with me,” he said again, and Bethany knew she had only a moment to give in
or stop him from thrusting inside of her.

Tears
of Goodbye

It
had been ten years since she’d allowed a man to enter her. And here she was in
Alistair Ingram’s shower seconds from letting it happen. Damn him, she trusted
him. She felt safe with him.

She
wanted
him.

He
might never understand what she was about—what her past was about, but she
didn’t think he cared. It didn’t matter, and nothing in the world was more
freeing than a past that didn’t matter anymore.

Alistair
grinded his hips slightly, making her gasp. “Bethany?”

“Yes,”
she said, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. “Yes. With you…yes.”

His
lips covered hers in a scorching kiss at the same time as his hands grasped her
hips, and he thrust hard and deep, stretching her. He swallowed her gasps and
moans of shock and pleasure and pressed her against the wall of the shower.

She
lifted one leg and wrapped it around his waist. He instantly plunged deeper,
the angle letting him thrust and rub against her in just the right spot. She
grabbed his butt, urging him to stay where he was, to go faster. Harder. “Yes,
right there,” she moaned and couldn’t help nipping his shoulder as he did as
she pleaded.

He
felt so good she could barely breathe. Sparks of heat and utter pleasure
ignited and grew hotter with every stroke. “Oh, God!”

“You
feel so fucking incredible,” Alistair said, “I could stay inside you forever.”

She
wanted to scream, fly, let go, hold on, cry out. Her body was possessed by his.
She’d lost all control, and for once, she didn’t care.

Alistair
turned them around and lowered down to the floor of the shower so she sat
astride him. She shuddered at his depth and pressed against his hard stomach to
lift herself slightly. “Take what you need,” he said, grabbing her hips and
pulling her back down onto his cock. “Take everything from me.”

The
abrupt change in dominance left her reeling. She shook her head, quickly from
side to side. “No.” A sob broke from her lips.

Alistair’s
arms pulled her into his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I
don’t want to. I--” She couldn’t stop stuttering. “I want
you
to take
me.”

“You
know I’d love nothing more.” In a second, she was whisked from the shower in
his arms and lowered onto his bed. “I was only trying to make you more
comfortable.”

Her
mind raced. The protectiveness she’d seen from him in
The Hollywood Harpy
office, the safety she felt in his embrace. “I want—I
need
you to take
me, Alistair. Make me forget
she
ever existed.”

He
groaned and spread her legs, pushing back inside of her. She had no doubt he
knew who she meant.

Black
Betty.

He’d
freed her from her past, now there was only one more person holding her back.

“Let
her go,” he chanted with each thrust. “Let her go for me.”

She
would. She was here. With him. Trusting. Feeling safe.

“Let
go,” he said, plunging deeper, faster. “For me. Let go.”

Her
thoughts disappeared at his urging, her mind going blank, filled with a white
void of nothingness. Bethany’s body took over, throwing her to the edge. She
bucked her hips and arched her back, letting herself surrender, on the brink of
explosion.

Pulse
after pulse of wet heat pummeled through her core. She opened her mouth, but
the sound was lost. Her hands shot out, pounding against the mattress, fingers
fisting and tangling in the sheets.

With
the Earth shattering around her, she barely registered Alistair’s own release,
she only felt the void when he quickly pulled out of her and collapsed on her
chest. Tears stung her eyes as she lay panting, breathless underneath his solid
weight. She didn’t try to stop them or hide them. She let them slide down her
cheeks and drip onto his pillow.

They
lay there, spent and sated for what felt to Bethany like an eternity. She
didn’t want to move or even think. Finally, Alistair rose up on his elbows and
gazed into her eyes.

“Is
she gone?”

Bethany
sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Yes.”

“Do
you regret it?” He traced a tear across her shoulder.

“No.
I’m just not sure where to go from here.” She smiled shyly through her tears.

Alistair
cocked his head to the side, grinning. “Cozumel. Where else?”

Ebb
and Flow

Alistair
watched Bethany take dainty bites of her salad across the table from him. He
was fully aware of the cameras poised on their every move and knew she was too.
Every bite she took was deliberate and calculated. He didn’t think she even cut
a piece of her steak without thinking about it for ten minutes first.

He
cursed himself for bringing her out of the house to this, for making her
uncomfortable. But, he’d be damned if he hid her away like some dirty secret.

She
was nobody’s dirty secret. He had feelings for her. Strong ones. He wouldn’t
try to label them but wouldn’t deny them either.

Alistair
shoved a bite of his prime rib into his mouth and lifted his eyes from his
plate just in time to catch Henry Wallace, the producer of
Hues of Black and
Blue
, striding across the restaurant toward their table. He set his fork
beside his plate and picked his napkin up off his lap.

Swallowing
and wiping is mouth as Wallace approached, he didn’t have time to alert Bethany
to the guest bearing down on them.

“Ingram!”
Wallace said, holding out his hand to shake Alistair’s. “I heard you were back
in town.”

“I
am,” Alistair said, and took a sip of his water. “Good to see you. Won’t you
sit down?” he gestured to the empty chair in front of Wallace, whose eyes
wandered over Bethany. “This is my good friend, Bethany Stavars,” he said.
“Bethany, this is Henry Wallace. He’s a producer.”

“Nice
to meet you, Mr. Wallace,” Bethany said, and offered her hand. Wallace took it
in one hand and patted it with the other. He didn’t kiss the back of it as he
would have if she were Heather Winston. Something about this irritated
Alistair.

“Likewise,”
Wallace said, turning his attention back to Alistair. “I hear you have interest
in a little movie of mine, eh? Auditioning for the Grey Christianson role?”

Alistair’s
gaze flickered over Bethany to catch her reaction before going into autopilot
and letting the fake smile take over his face. “You heard correctly. I’ve been
studying up on the lifestyle, training for the audition.”

Wallace
let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “I heard! I heard!” he said, patting Alistair
on the back. “Well, who hasn’t, eh? It’s plastered all over the T.V. and
magazines.” Wallace’s eyes darted to Bethany and back to Alistair. “I take it
she’s your training partner?”

Alistair
bit down hard, clamping his teeth together and swallowing past the lump of
anger in his throat threatening to form four letter words and shove them past
his lips. “Bethany is a good friend of mine.”

“Right.
Well, if you’re serious about the part, I’ll short-list you for it. You’ve been
on my radar. I’ll get with your manager. You’re still with Kent?”

Alistair
cleared his throat. “No. I’m between managers at the moment. Please contact me
directly. I’d like to discuss it further.”

Wallace
scooted his chair out. “I’ll do that. We’ll be starting auditions soon, so
stick around town. Good seeing you.” He nodded to Bethany and strode away from
their table.

A
spark of hope lit in Alistair’s chest. Maybe his career wasn’t down the shitter
after all. Maybe the lie had been believable. It had at least filled Wallace
with enough curiosity to ask him if he was interested in the role.

“Guess
Cozumel’s out,” Bethany said, smiling and lifting her wine glass.
“Congratulations. I know you had to be worried about your career after all of
this.”