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Chapter 9

"Are you okay?" The cameraman asked her anxiously as he adjusted his lens. "Monique said you should have waited a few more days before coming in."

‘I am fine. A lump on the head and a few bruised ribs were not going to stop me." She settled on the loveseat and adjusted the whisper-soft ivory robe over her thighs. She had taken a few days to rest and recuperate and avoided the press as much as possible.

In the meantime, she had not heard from Rylan. He had not called, and when she called him, he had told her brusquely that he was busy. So, they were back to that again—the avoidance dance. So she called Monique and told her that she was ready to get to work, overriding the woman's protests.

"I need this, Monique. I need to get out of my apartment and concentrate on something other than my failure to get Rylan to talk to me." Monique had capitulated.

Bob peered at her over his glasses dubiously. "We are going to be here for close to three hours."

Her tapered eyebrows lifted in amusement. "And you doubt that I can handle that."

"You were assaulted-"

"Bob, darling, get on with it," she ordered. "You are wasting valuable time."

"If you say so." Lifting the camera, he peered at her through the lens and had to admire the flawless skin, the exquisite shape of their face, and the graceful curves of her slender body. The camera adored her, of course.

He already knew that. He was seeing a woman who was going to get women to rush into the store and buy up the exorbitantly priced lingerie line that was due to come out for the summer.

"Lift your left shoulder - yes, like that. Perfect." he snapped away. "Now, tilt your head to the side. That's it. You are a natural."

"Why, thank you."

He only grinned at her as he set the camera on the tripod.

"Time for a little rest and wardrobe change. Jake will be coming in for this shoot."

Rolling her shoulders, she gracefully swung her legs off the chair. Picking up the robe, she shrugged into it and went to the refreshment table to get something to eat.

"I have seen the prelims, and I am salivating." She turned as Monique came hurrying towards her. "I had doubts about you being well enough to pull this off, but I was wrong."

"I told you." She smiled at her friend. "Coming to check on me?"

"I was in the baby section of the store and decided to come and stop by." Monique picked up a plate and selected thinly sliced ham sandwiches and a flaky croissant.

"We are updating the entire section, adding some handmade onesies from this delightful woman who makes the best ones from yarns." She stared at the beautiful girl. "Are you okay?"

"No." Putting her plate away, Celeste took a seat and crossed her legs. "Rylan is ignoring me, and I don't know what to do next."

Monique sat next to her. "Don't tell me you are giving up?"

She shook her head. "But I am running out of options. He hurried to the hospital to see me when he heard about the incident, and I could see the nerves on his face. He is still in love with me, but oh God!"

She passed a hand around the back of her neck. "Monique, I hurt him so much, and I don't know how to fix it. He cannot get past it, and I don't blame him. He called when I was discharged, and I begged him to come over, and he didn't."

Reaching out a hand, Monique placed it over hers. "That's the whole point, though, isn't it?"

She asked in her soft, composed voice. He loves you. He fights it but is unable to stay away from you. When you are hurting, he comes running." She took a sip of the coffee and eyed her friend over the rim of the delicate cup. "When was the last time you had a bad cold?"

Celeste stared at her curiously. "I hardly get sick. Why?"

"You will be doing an intensive photo shoot here for the next month or two. And it's allergy season."

"Darling, you are being cryptic."

"I am trying to say that you need to up the odds."

"How?"

"The day after tomorrow is Saturday, and you will not be shooting then. From what you have done so far, I would say that tomorrow, we will have enough to get the ads running.

We are sending out teasers - ads in the papers, on the internet, and even on several social media platforms. Take the sick day off. Call him and sound like you are on your last, and get him to come to you."

Celeste eyed the older woman, golden-brown eyes twinkling. "He is not going to come to my apartment."

"And why not?"

"It's a luxury apartment building, and he will be recognized instantly."

"You are too sick to worry about that. Perhaps an infection from the bump on your head? If I am reading the situation accurately and I think I am - that man will not be able to stop himself from rushing to your rescue."

Celeste sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "When we were younger, he would stay whenever I was having cramps because of my periods."

"There you go."

"He is going to find out that I lied."

"As long as you get him over there, it does not matter."

"I am trying to get him to trust me again."

"You can work on that after. Now you just need him to come to you."

"It's tempting."

"What do you have to lose?"

"My mind?" Celeste grimaced as she set her cup down. "But I am desperate. Thanks, darling."

"What are friends for?"

*****

The vibration of the phone on his bedside table roused him from a fitful slumber. Thinking of ignoring it, he raised against the pillows and reached for it. His heart slammed against his ribs when he checked the LED and saw who was calling.

It was late—a little after ten. Why was she calling? His heart took on frantic beatings as he imagined all sorts of reasons she would be calling at this time of the night.

Sliding the green icon, he answered. "Celeste?"

"Hi." her voice sounded slurred.

"Have you been drinking?" He sat up against the pillows, his brow pleated.

"I think I am," she laughed huskily. I am at the Hoppin' Bar. Yes, that's the name of it, and I think I drank one too many tequila shots."

"Take a damn cab." He growled.

"I think some guy is trying to follow me. I have the Uber app on my phone, but I- please come and get me."

"Dammit!" he exploded. "What the hell are you doing at some bar?"

"Drinking my sorrows away. You won't return my calls- Man, take a damn hint. Go away!"

"Who was that?"

"A very persistent admirer. Rylan-"

"I am on my way. Stay inside the damn bar. I will be there in a few minutes.'

Hanging up, he bicycled out of the sheets and jumped off the bed. Going into the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and rinsed his mouth. All the while wondering and panicking that some overeager admirer would maul her.

What the hell was she doing at a bar? It was barely two weeks ago that she was attacked. When he got his hands on her, he would shake some sense into her.

It never occurred to him to wonder why he was so eager to get to her, why it was so natural for him to run to her rescue. He just knew that he had to be there for her.

*****

"I am going to be sick," she whispered as they rode the elevator up to his suite. He had muscled his way into the bar to see her sitting at a table.

Her head leaned back against the column, and he felt like plowing his fist into the face of the guy hovering next to her. He had hustled her out of there and into his vehicle, deciding it was more prudent to take her to his place, where there was absolute privacy.

"Serves you right," he told her gruffly. Taking her arm, he guided her into the apartment and carefully down the steps into a sunken living room with shiny board floors and wide open spaces similar to hers.

"A little sympathy would be nice."

"You want sympathy?" he shook her then. "What the hell were you thinking? And as usual, you are dressed in - what the hell are you wearing?" He had been so eager to get her out of the bar that he had not looked at her outfit.

But in the bright lights of the chandeliers hanging from the lofty ceiling, he got the full effect of the tiny orange shorts and belly-skimming black blouse. She had worn a knee-length leather coat over it, which would explain why he had not noticed how much skin she was showing.

"Were you trying to get assaulted again?" He shook her harder this time, fingers digging into her upper arms. "What the hell were you thinking, leaving your place in this get-up?"

"I was miserable. Please don't shout at me."

"I am going to do damn well more than that if you- What?"

"I am going to be sick." Tearing out of his embrace, she rushed to an open door in the powder room.

Rylan stood there for a minute indecisively. She was retching as if she was going to die.Swearing loudly, he rushed after her, just in time to see her curled up on the cold tiles in a fetal position.

"I am dying."

"Are you done?" He asked her gently, hunkering down and taking in the slackened mouth and the miserable expression on her exquisite face.

"I think I emptied my stomach lining along with the alcohol. I am dying."

"You will live." Putting his hands under her head and legs, he lifted her. "You will feel like crap in the morning, but that's to be expected."

Her arms were around his neck, and his heart dived when she curled into him. She felt right in his arms, he realized as he turned to go up the stairs and into his suite. Striding into his bedroom, he climbed the steps and laid her against the pillows. Sitting at her feet, he removed the black leather boots and dropped them to the carpeted floor.

"I am going to get you a T-shirt."

"My head is pounding."

"And some Tylenol."

"Could I get some tea?"

He stared at her with narrowed eyes before rising to go and do her bidding. Despite her pounding head and the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach, she smiled. Monique had told her to fake a cold, but she had decided to do this instead. And he had come running. She was in his bed.

When she had called, she had been afraid that he would be with her and had taken the chance. Her relief that he was alone had been palpable. Turning her head, she sniffed the pillows that smelled like him and closed her eyes as his scent washed over her.

He came back a few minutes later, bearing a tray with a steaming cup of what smelled like ginger tea and some crackers. When he placed the tray table over her lap, she realized that there was a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers.

"Tea first, and then the pills," he ordered. I am going to find you something to wear."She watched as he climbed the steps and approached his massive armoire. Picking up the cup, she took a tentative sip and then another.

His room was spacious, with wide open spaces. A bookshelf took up an entire corner of the room, and a desk and chair were next to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The closet had no doors, and she could see rows of shelves and revolving hangers with mountains of suits.

Tilting her head, she noticed with a jolt that she was staring up at the sky, the velvet sky dotted with twinkling stars. It was a lovely apartment and not too masculine.

"how do you feel?" His deep baritone jolted her out of her study of the room.

"My stomach feels a little better. Thank you."

He nodded. Moving toward her, he plucked the tray away and handed her the shirt. "Put this on," he said.

She almost laughed as he turned away when she started to take off the top. Pulling the soft white tees over her head, she shimmied out of the shorts and tossed them and the blouse at the foot of the huge bed. Figuring she was decent, he turned to put the tray back over her lap, green eyes skimming her slender figure that was dwarfed by his shirt.

Seeing her wearing his shirt was funny to his insides, and for a few seconds, he just stood there looking at her. "Drink the tea," he said curtly. I have something to do."

She wondered if he was just saying that to get away from her. Taking up the cup, she continued to sip the tea and nibbled on the crackers.

He entered his office and stood at his desk, staring at nothing. She was in his apartment, on his bed, and he was trying to convince himself that it was innocent. That he was just helping her out. Why the hell hadn't she called her brother? A frown touched his brow.

And she had said she was miserable because he had not called her back. Was this some sort of ploy to get him under her spell? She had told him that she was not giving up on them. He had not called her back because he was not strong enough to resist her and to keep on doing so.

She was messing with his head again, and he could not afford that. He dragged his fingers through his hair and acknowledged the agitation tearing through his body. She was in his bed. And he had to get her out. He would bundle her up and take her back to her place.

With that resolve in mind, he marched back into the room. Opening his mouth to tell her she was leaving, he stopped abruptly as he witnessed the scene on his bed. She had put the tray aside and was nestled on the mountain of pillows. Her body was turned on the side, facing him.

Her legs were drawn up almost to her chin, and her hands were under her cheek, her usual position when she was fast asleep. And she was snoring softly.

An unconscious, tender smile touched his lips as he mounted the steps and pulled the sheets over her. A thick curl had escaped the chignon and was lying against her cheek. Lifting his hand, he brushed it back and allowed himself to touch the soft skin.

"Oh, Celeste," he whispered achingly. "What the hell are you doing to me?"

Biting off a ragged sigh, he rose to take off his clothes. Climbing in next to her, he hesitated briefly before pulling her against him. With an incomprehensible murmur, she snuggled against him, her head burrowing against his chest"s bare skin.

Throwing a protective arm around her slender curves, he pulled her against him, inhaling her exotic scent. Starting at the tan and gold wallpaper, he contemplated what this meant. She was here in his bed and wrapped in his arms. And it felt wonderful. He had been fighting his desperate attraction for her and was not getting anywhere.

He had not been able to touch Madeline since that fateful night he spent with Celeste at his club. His mind was in constant turmoil. He had felt as if his heart had stopped when he heard the news of her assault and felt a driving need to confront the ones who dared put their hands on her.

Ever since that time, he had to fight the need to go and see for himself that she was okay. He had heard the news that she had started doing some work for Romano's. That she would be the face of their provocative lingerie wear line. He had seen the teaser - just one photo of her wearing a black lace teddy.

She was seated on a padded stool with her legs on either side of it, her hands planted in the middle. The pose was provocative, and he knew that she would sell out the entire store when the full campaign came out.

He had found himself staring at the mesmerizing photo and wondered jealousy who else was staring and lusting after her.

He had felt the rage rising to the surface. He did not want another man looking at her. He had gone into that bar with blood in his eyes, prepared to lay flat, anyone touching her. With a ragged sigh, his hands tightened around her as he kissed the top of her head.

*****

He was having the most erotic dream. His entire body was pulsing with a heat that was flooding his body, and someone was kissing his throat and then his chest and over to his nipple.

His hands curled into fists as the dream took on an even greater passion as the insistent mouth tugged at the flesh. And the hand - sweet Christ! The hand was doing something to his sex, teasing, tormenting the flesh until it was becoming unbearable.

His eyes flew open as his heart pounded inside his chest as if it was going to tear free from the linings. And it was not a dream.

He had the presence of mind to thank the good Lord that it was real before it was brought home to him that the woman who was sending wave after wave of passion and desire crashing through his body was Celeste, and she was heading downwards and kissing his stomach.

"Hey-" This could not be his voice, not this weak and shattered tone coming from him. He felt weak and paralyzed and unable to do anything to stop the descent of her mouth.

His body jolted when she wrapped her fingers around the thick length of him and touched just the tip of her tongue to the reddened tip.

"Stop." he tried to haul her over him, but she remained settled on her target. Now she was taking him inside her mouth, and the feel of her warm breath, the saliva coating his shaft, was making him as weak as a kitten.

"Darling-" His head moved restlessly before he managed to haul himself up on his elbows. The completely erotic sight of her head bobbing as she moved her mouth up and down the length of him was more than he could bear. He was on the verge of exploding, and he wanted to pour himself into her, but not like this.

Finding the strength, he grabbed her shoulders and hauled her over him. Settling her on top of him, he had to take a minute as she sank over him, the walls of her sex wrapping around him so tight that he was beside himself with passion and need. He wanted to devour her.

His hands drifted from her hips to her ribs, eyes going to the faint bruises there. His eyes darkened as the reminder of what those thugs had done to her filtered through his mind.

"It doesn't hurt." She whispered, noticing the murderous expression on his face. "Not anymore."

"I want to kill them for putting their hands on you." He said hoarsely.

"Rylan-"

"Come here." His voice had thickened as he brought her forward so that he could take a nipple into his mouth. As soon as he started suckling, she came, her body lurching forward, fingers digging into his hair as he pulled on the nipple with a hunger that drove her over the edge.

He had just started moving when the climax exploded, shuddering through his body with a force that had him clutching her to him.

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