Chapter 2
Chapter Two
B uilding the conflict
She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. A scream crossed her lips at the sight of a man looming over her bed.
“Shhh.” Ty placed a hand across her mouth to quiet her. “It’s me.”
“Dammit, Ty.” She pulled his hand away and sat up. “You scared the shit out of me.”
He grinned and she felt her anger building. “How did you get in here?”
He shrugged. “It’s my guest house.”
“So?”
“So I have a key.”
“Ty. You can’t just waltz in here. While I’m staying with you, this is my room.”
“Who says?”
“I say. You’re invading my privacy.” For three days, she’d tried to accustom herself to Ty’s tendency to occupy not only his space, but hers as well.
She wasn’t used to a man showering her with so much attention, so much care. He was charming and courteous, but beneath all of that, she sensed a darker, more brooding part. A part that made her feel possessed and hot and needy in ways she couldn’t begin to understand or explain to herself.
He sat on the edge of the bed and she fought to calm her racing heart at his close proximity.
“It’s my house. I can do whatever I want,” he insisted.
“Then I’m leaving. I’ll get a hotel room.”
The look in his eyes made her tremble slightly. With just one glance, he dared her to try, while letting her know in no uncertain terms she’d never succeed.
He shook his head and his eyes wandered down her body.
She looked down and gasped when she realized the sheet was pooled around her waist and she was flashing him—big time. She scrambled to pull the sheet up, only to discover Ty was sitting on it.
“Move,” she demanded.
“You’re very beautiful, Gwen. You shouldn’t hide that.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No.” He laughed before leaning closer, and she fought to catch her breath. “You sleep nude. I like that.”
She continued tugging at the covers until he gave in and stood. She pulled the sheet over her breasts, fighting to retain her anger. Ty had a way of getting under her skin in ways she couldn’t understand.
“Promise you won’t come in again without knocking.”
“No.” He claimed the chair by her bed. “I missed you.”
“What?”
“I missed you at dinner. I wanted to talk to you.”
He’d been out all afternoon and evening at some charity benefit. She’d eaten dinner alone. “Talk to me about what?”
He’d proceeded to tell her about his evening, and she hadn’t slept in the nude since that night.
Since then, Ty had gotten into the habit of coming into her room during the darkest hours of night and they’d fallen into a strange nighttime routine. He’d sit in the chair by her bed and they’d talk for hours before he’d retire back to the main house and his own room.
Gwen rolled over and punched the pillow, trying to find a comfortable sleep position and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into.
Moving into the guest house of Look magazine’s Hottest Man Alive was not one of the brightest things she’d ever done.
For one thing, Ty was filthy rich. He had a butler, two maids, a chef, a chauffeur, a personal assistant and at least a dozen other people in his entourage, doing God only knew what. The constant swirl of people surrounding him made her head spin, and she wondered how Ty could stand it.
She’d read the contract and given her verbal agreement to cowrite the movie script for Evening Songs . She was leaving the legal hassles up to the lawyers, agents, and her publisher to sort out.
She would be returning to New York tomorrow for two weeks so that she could tie up loose ends at home and pack up enough clothing for a two-month stay, which is how long Ty estimated it would take them to write the script given his busy schedule.
As an author, she had the luxury of uprooting herself from her New York apartment since she could do her writing anywhere. Have laptop, will travel.
She’d been in town eight restful, perfect days, hanging out by his pool, sightseeing, eating in fancy restaurants. He was an amazingly attentive host when his schedule permitted, though he hadn’t lied about the fact that his day-to-day routine was hectic, to say the least. Most nights she read or wrote in the charming guest house while he walked the red carpets and attended more meetings than the president.
Around one a.m., Ty slipped into her room. “How come you’re sleeping in pajamas?”
She grinned at his question, no longer alarmed by his sudden appearances in her room. “Gee, I wonder if it has anything to do with these late-night visits.”
“I think I should set the record straight and let you know that I most definitely was not offended by your nudity. Quite the opposite actually.”
“My pajamas are staying on,” she answered. “I hope when it comes time to start writing our script, you will bear in mind that I’m a morning person. I can’t think at night. Every book I’ve written was put down on the pages between the hours of six a.m. and noon. After that, I’m cooked.”
Ty sat heavily in the padded armchair by her bed and leaned his head back. She could see the dark circles under his eyes even in the dim moonlight. “I’ll try to remember that, but I gotta warn you, my body’s clock is the complete opposite of yours. I don’t begin to fully function until early afternoon.”
“Must have something to do with these late hours you insist on keeping. How was your movie premiere?”
“Predictable,” he replied through a yawn.
“How was your starlet?” He’d taken Jasmine Court, the hottest female property in Hollywood, for a stroll on the red carpet tonight.
Gwen struggled to push back the nagging jealousy she’d felt when he’d told her who he was going out with. Regardless of her insistence that things remain platonic between them, her body seemed to constantly cry out for him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so sexually attracted to a man before.
Of course, she consoled herself with the realization that every woman in America was lusting after him as well.
At least, in that regard, she was normal.
“She’s a lesbian,” he said quietly.
“Really?” She constantly struggled to figure out when he was kidding and when he wasn’t. Most of his comments were delivered so deadpan, she despaired of ever understanding his dry sense of humor.
“I owed her manager a favor and he decided to collect. I managed to do my part for this twisted Hollywood society and kept up the appearance of their golden girl’s straight image for another night.”
“I suppose I’ll get to read all about your torrid love affair tomorrow in the tabloids.”
“Oh yeah and then next week, when her manager finds another hot stud to pretend to be in love with her, I’ll be jealous and heartbroken and every dark mood I have for months afterwards will be attributed to our nasty breakup. Christ, I’m sick of this shit.”
She studied him as he lounged in the chair. Typically, their nighttime banter was playful, teasing in nature.
Tonight, his head was thrown back against the headrest, his eyes were closed and his hands were clenched together tightly against his chest. Despite the weariness she could see in every part of his body, he seemed tense, even a bit angry.
“So why not retire?”
He chuckled, though the sound held no mirth, and he opened his eyes to look at her. “I’m only forty.”
She smiled. “And you have enough money to live in comfort ’til you’re two hundred and forty. So why keep doing it? Why keep up this ridiculous pace?”
He shrugged, and she knew by his gaze he wasn’t going to answer her question.
“How old are you?” he asked.
She recognized his question for what it was. After only a week together, she was well aware of his tendency to change the subject if he didn’t like the current one.
“Thirty-four.”
“How come you never got married?”
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. His gaze had become too intense, too serious, and she’d felt for a moment as if she could drown in the depths of his deep blue eyes.
“I’m not sure,” she said, once she’d regained her wits. “I suppose you’ve noticed that, unlike you, I’m a bit of an introvert. I’m one of those lucky few who found success as an author fairly young, but writing isn’t one of those careers that leads to meeting a lot of people. I spend a great deal of time in my house alone with my laptop.”
“You don’t date at all?”
“Oh sure. I’ve dated plenty, but I’ve noticed since I turned thirty that the pool of available men has dwindled and unfortunately, most of what’s left is the duds who’ve been thrown back.”
“Gee thanks.” She giggled at his response.
“Present company excluded, of course.” She looked over at him.
He rubbed his eyes, and she felt her heart stirring at his vulnerability.
For all his money and fame, she saw a tired, weary man, and before she could think about it, she reached out toward him with her hand. “Come here.”
He glanced up in surprise, then took her hand. She tugged until he rose, directing him toward her with a pull. “Crawl in.”
She scooted over and watched as he lay down beside her.
“You’re inviting me to your bed?”
“To sleep,” she clarified. “I have a feeling you’re too tired to make the trek back across the lawn to your own bed or to be much use for anything else.” He grinned at her taunt, no doubt willing to prove her words false, but she put up her hand. “Just the same, stay on your side of the bed, Hollywood.”
He smiled tiredly at the nickname and his eyes drifted shut slowly. “Good night, gorgeous,” he whispered, seconds before she heard his breath steady and deepen with sleep.
He truly had been exhausted. She ran her hand lightly over his brow, pushing back his chestnut hair and staring at his handsome face.
It was no wonder every woman in the world had a crush on the man. With his chiseled jaw and strong cheekbones, he was destined to be a heartthrob. His blue eyes tipped with long, thick lashes could turn women to jelly with a single glance.
And yet, she sensed there was so much more to him than his classic good looks. In the past week, she’d discovered his intelligence, his humor, his undeniable drive to constantly succeed.
More than that, she felt drawn inexplicably to the core of strength that seemed to flow from his soul, pulling her toward him in ways she couldn’t understand.
She felt an irrefutable need to give herself to this man in ways she’d only ever dreamed of alone in the dark of night, in ways she knew were twisted and wrong. Yet, he seemed to call to the most secret desires of her heart.
She closed her eyes, desperate to block out the emotions, the needs he provoked. She shuttered her heart securely against him, willing away the shattered, scarred truth with all of her might.
No, she told herself harshly.
No.
“Now this is the way I like to wake up,” a deep voice said beside her.
Gwen opened her eyes, briefly surprised to find her face only inches away from Ty’s. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, then their nighttime conversation drifted back through her consciousness.
“You were supposed to stay on your own side.” Her voice was gruff with sleep. As she came fully awake, she became aware of his hand lightly rubbing a bare bit of skin at her waist, beneath her T-shirt.
“So sue me.” He leaned so close to her the only air she could feel was that of his soft breath on her cheek. His hand stopped caressing her waist and instead gripped it, pulling her even closer to him.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered, despite the fact her hands were resting, unresisting, on his chest. She’d placed them there to push him away, but instead the traitorous things were exploring the rock-hard definitions of his pecs.
“I think a kiss in the morning is always a good idea.”
“Just a kiss?” She cursed her sudden breathlessness.
“Just a kiss, Gwen.” She was shocked by her disappointment until he added, “for now.”
His lips brushed hers and her body shuddered at the impact. His mouth wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t easy. He took her lips with a roughness that proclaimed his possession. He took everything she offered with her lips and tongue and demanded more.
His hands drifted up to her face, engulfing her cheeks in his firm grip, turning her head exactly the way he wanted it. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, and she thought for a moment she heard him growl before his tongue plunged into her mouth, tangling with hers.
She’d never been kissed like this in her life and the feeling was heady. It made her dizzy, giddy, reckless, and she suddenly realized she wanted more.
Hell, she wanted all.
She reached up and held his face to hers, twisting her fingers in his hair. He mimicked the action with her own long tresses, and she was amazed by her reaction to his rough touch.
Each time he pulled her hair, the sensation of pain flowed pleasurably down her body, causing her hips to flex, searching for relief. Her body felt as if he’d set it aflame and she found her reactions shockingly animalistic.
“Harder. Pull harder,” she begged, and he responded in turn.
His lips trailed along her face, his rough beard scratching her sensitive skin until he reached her ear. He bit her earlobe, pulling her hair at the same time, and she cried out, her hips gyrating wildly.
His hard body came over hers as he took control of her wrists, dragging them above her head and holding them firmly in place with one of his hands.
She sensed he knew what his actions were doing to her as he pressed his covered cock firmly between her legs, letting her feel the proof of the desire they shared. She wanted to scream at him to take off his pants and give her what she needed, but instinctively she knew he would refuse her.
“Shhh.” He tightened his grip on her wrists while planting soft, sweet kisses on her face. “Calm down, gorgeous.”
She was panting, frustrated, and she foolishly felt as if she were on the verge of tears.
He leaned back at the sound of her soft cry, the look on his face a perfect mixture of shock, awe and naked, red-hot desire.
He smiled as she struggled to regain composure, her body screaming for relief.
“I can see there will be no such thing as innocent kisses with you,” he said.
She blinked rapidly, determined he shouldn’t see the tears threatening to fall. Christ, she was a fool.
“I-I, shit.” She struggled to free her hands. He released her and she pushed him away. He moved over easily and she realized she wouldn’t have been able to budge him if he hadn’t permitted it.
She walked away from the bed, pressing her back against the wall for support.
“This is not, I mean, I don’t—” She was gasping for air and her voice and her body betrayed her, shaking uncontrollably.
He sat up slowly and she knew he was deliberately keeping his movements unhurried lest he frighten her. “Gwen, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
She wanted to laugh at the understatement of his words. He’d pulled her hair, held her down and she’d responded like a bitch in heat.
He didn’t think that was wrong, weird?
“I told you before, Ty. I want us to keep our relationship professional. Sex muddies the water. You know that.”
“No, I don’t think I do. Gwen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that we’re attracted to each other sexually. Shit, I can’t think of anything I want more than to tie your lovely body to that bed and bury myself between those hot thighs of yours.”
“Stop it! Stop saying stuff like that. It isn’t going to happen. Ever.”
He scowled at her words and rose from the bed, crossing to where she stood, trembling. “Well, I think you and I are about to have our first disagreement.”
He leaned toward her as she pressed her body flat against the wall. He caged her in, grasping her hands by the wrists once again and pressing them against the flat surface, just above her head. “You and I are most certainly going to have sex, Gwen. Hard, hot, incredibly intense sex and you’re going to love every minute of it.”
“You smug, conceited?—”
“Pull your pants down,” he said as he loosened his grip.
She wanted to deny him, wanted to drive her fists against his chest and tell him to get the hell away from her, but his deep voice, his demanding words spoke to the loneliest part of her soul, and she felt as if she’d been sunk neck-deep in quicksand.
“Pull them down now,” he repeated, his voice commanding. Clearly he expected her to comply. This was so wrong. God dammit, it was wrong. And yet her body felt alive for the first time ever.
She reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and she slowly shimmied the soft cotton over her hips. The material fell to her ankles and she stepped out of it, never taking her gaze off his determined face.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and she raised her hand to slap him for his condescending comment. He caught her wrist before her hand connected and pressed it against the wall. “You don’t want to do that.”
She closed her eyes in surrender and he released her hand.
His dominant actions, his powerful words, were truly soothing her weary soul, despite the fact her head was demanding she run away from him.
Ty Ransome was the one man who could be her complete and utter downfall, yet rather than escape, she found herself relishing every touch, every word he offered.
How many times had she dreamed of a moment just like this?
How many nights had she lain alone in her bed praying for a man to take over for her? Take all her fears and worries and insecurities and simply claim her.
He reached over to the desk by her bed and pulled out the chair, dragging it to where they stood. Then he gripped her thigh firmly, lifting it. “Place your foot on the chair.”
She did as he said, gasping when he gripped her knee and spread her legs farther apart. “Stay there and don’t take your leg down,” he ordered.
She obeyed, slightly embarrassed by the fact she was so wet her juices were practically running down her leg.
“What a pretty pussy you have.” He brushed a finger through the curls surrounding her clit.
“I don’t want you to touch me and I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.” She gasped for the breath to tell her lie.
He laughed at her comment and she saw red.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he taunted. “Or should I say pussy on fire? There’s a pool of juices here that tell me you love the way I’m talking to you.”
She cursed her body’s betrayal and lowered her leg. “I want you to leave. I want you to get out of this guest house.”
He studied her face as she spoke, and she could feel the unbearable heat in her cheeks. No doubt she was blushing as red as a beet. One of the curses of being naturally pale in complexion.
“Put your foot back on the chair,” he demanded, his voice soft, but firm.
“Are you listening to me?” She was aware how shrill and panicked her voice sounded. She was a modern woman. She wasn’t supposed to be turned on by his demands, encouraging his caveman behavior.
“I’m listening to your body, not your words. I’m not going to punish you for disobeying me, Gwen, but if your foot isn’t on that chair in five seconds, I can assure you, you won’t like the result.”
Fear and curiosity warred inside her. Fear of loving what he was about to do. Curiosity over what his punishment would be.
Shit. Her thinking was screwed up. She should be afraid of the damn punishment, not curious.
Her thoughts were in such a jumble, she didn’t realize he was lifting her leg for her until her foot hit the seat of the chair.
Then he bent down and retrieved her pajama pants. Grasping her hands, he pulled them behind her back, quickly and efficiently using her pants to tie her hands.
Her heart raced with excitement and desire when she realized she was bound tightly enough that escape was impossible.
“We’re definitely going to have to work on your inability to follow simple commands.”
Her pussy clenched at his words and she leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes tightly, praying it would help her shut out the overwhelming needs coursing through her.
Why did she like—no, love the way he was talking to her?
“Open your eyes, Gwen. Look at me.”
She slowly dragged her eyes open, and he smiled at her so sweetly, so kindly, she felt her heart begin to ache at the beauty of it.
His fingers lightly grazed her clit, and she sucked in a breath, while keeping her gaze locked firmly on his.
“So responsive, so beautiful.” His fingers delved through her mons before swirling around playfully in her juices. “God, you have no idea how hot you feel. Your cunt is burning my hand.”
She trembled at the dirty compliment, moving her hips toward his questing fingers, trying to bring him inside.
“Hold still,” he barked, and she felt a fresh gush of moisture escape at the rough sound of his voice.
“Jesus,” he muttered as if awestruck. “You’re too perfect for words.”
He pushed one finger inside of her, and she fought to remain motionless, fought against every fiber of her body that was demanding she thrust toward him.
“Please,” she whimpered when it appeared he was satisfied with tormenting her with one finger.
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“Please, Ty.” The words fell from her lips without thought. “I want your fingers inside me. More than one.”
He pulled out at her request and thrust in with two. “Like that?” he asked. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific if you hope to get what you want, what you need.”
“Another finger,” she whispered. “Please.”
He complied with her pleading, but it still wasn’t enough.
“Harder,” she added, realizing he was serious about making her ask for what she wanted. “Push inside me harder, faster.”
At her words, he gave in to the strength he’d obviously been holding back as her legs threatened to give way under the glorious assault of his hand. His fingers fucked her roughly, pounding inside her in the way she often did for herself. No one had ever dared to take her so strongly. She felt the scream building in her throat just before it reached her lips.
“Come for me.” The speed and power of his thrusts increased even more, and she succumbed to his words, his fingers. Her vision went black and she felt as if she were on the verge of fainting.
Ty must have thought the same thing as he reached out with his free hand to steady her against the wall.
She shuddered uncontrollably for several moments, the aftershocks of her orgasm shaking her body. His lips lightly caressed her cheek, and she felt his tongue dab at the stream of tears he found there.
Was she crying?
She hadn’t realized.
“Shhh.” He removed his hand from her quivering body, despite her anguished cry. He reached around her to untie her arms, then bent down and picked her up, turning and placing her gently on the bed. He crawled in beside her and enveloped her in his large embrace.
She felt more tears gathering in her eyes, but she was too weak to attempt to stem the flow. She felt overwhelmed, confused.
“Why are you crying?”
She shrugged.
How could she tell him?
How could she explain?
He’d just brought her deepest, darkest desires to light, and she struggled with the unexpected exposure. “I just let you tie me up and take me against the wall. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He leaned up on his elbow and looked down at her. “Shouldn’t have done what? You enjoy a rough touch, Gwen. So what?”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” she said quickly, desperate to shut down the topic of her need for pain in sex.
Ty narrowed his eyes and she knew he was displeased with her comment. “Fine,” he said at last, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “But this isn’t over, Gwen.”
She knew the second he spoke the words, he was right. She didn’t have a doubt, she would let him do much, much more to her. No matter how forbidden, how wrong.
He kissed her gently as she fought against the fresh onslaught of tears building in her chest. “It’s okay, Gwen. Your secret is safe with me.”
She wondered about his words and then she considered her response to them.
God help her if she was right about his intentions, because she had no doubt he wouldn’t rest until he’d uncovered and physically exploited every damn imperfection in her character. Until he’d dragged every cursed, unspeakable desire to the forefront.
And then what?
He was an actor.
Hell, he was fucking Ty Ransome, the movie star every man wanted to be like and every woman wanted to sleep with.
How would he feel when he learned just how dark and deep her needs ran?
How would he react when he discovered pain wasn’t just her fantasy, but a need?
What would he say when he realized bondage wasn’t a sex game for her, but a necessity?
For years, she’d managed to suppress the dark and dirty secret because she knew society wouldn’t approve, wouldn’t understand. The whole reason she’d created Michael Haynes was so she could write the story of her heart, so she could put her surreptitious longings on the pages of “The Darkest Night”.
Just as he’d discovered her pen name, Ty had pulled off the veil she’d been hiding beneath. She shivered at the thought and felt his arms tighten around her. He would open up the vault she’d kept securely locked inside her soul. She’d protected her secrets for a lifetime, but Ty had the power to uncover and exploit all of it.
God help her, she’d be a willing victim, if the past few minutes were any indication of his power over her.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
Trust. If only she could.