Chapter Five
Carmen curled up on the chaise longue on the private balcony off the master suite. If she were going to seduce Matthew, the last thing she needed to do was appear too accessible, too anxious to be in his presence. That was the reason she’d decided to go to her room first rather than straight to the pool.
A cool breeze was coming in off the ocean. She recalled making love with Matthew on this very balcony one night that first year he had brought her to the Hamptons. She had been concerned that their neighbors would see them, but Matthew had assured her that they had total privacy. The house had even been built in a no-fly zone, which kept the overzealous paparazzi from taking to the skies.
She glanced at the book she’d placed on the table, a romance novel she had been trying to get through for the last couple of days. It’s not that it wasn’t a good book—it was—but it was hard to read about someone else’s fantastic love life when hers had gone so badly.
Instead of resuming the book, she decided to close her eyes and conjure up her own love story with her and Matthew in the leading roles. Things between them had been romantic during the early days of their marriage, especially that first year when he hadn’t wanted her out of his sight. They had been in bed more than they had been out. Matthew was something else in the bedroom—he’d been able to reach her on a level that went deeper than any man ever had—and a part of her knew that no other man ever would.
From the moment they’d met, something had passed between them that was instinctive, and primitive. She was surprised she’d been able to read her lines during the audition session. That day, for the first time in her life, she’d discovered how it felt to truly desire a man.
She had gotten the role because Matthew had seen something in her. He thought she was good, and was going places. Although the temptation to become his lover during filming had been great, she had been determined to keep things professional between them.
After they’d wrapped the movie, they had their first date. He had taken her someplace simple—his favorite bar and grill for hamburgers, fries and what he’d claimed was the best milk shake she would ever taste. He’d been right. That night had practically sealed her fate. They’d dated exclusively for six months and then that Christmas, he’d asked her to marry him and she’d said yes.
The media had kept tabs on their budding relationship, referring to them as Hollywood’s Darlings—Matthew, the staunch bachelor who claimed he would never marry, and she, the woman who’d stolen his heart. Their courtship had been as private as they could make it, but that hadn’t stopped the paparazzi from stalking their every move and painting them as the couple whose marriage was most likely to succeed in Hollywood. Boy, had they been wrong.
Nearly five years later and here they were, no different than most other Hollywood couples—divorced and blaming the other for what had gone wrong. She drew in a deep breath, not wanting to think of how she’d felt being replaced by his career. The loneliness and pain had nearly swallowed her whole. Although by that time she’d had success as an actress, as a wife she felt like a total failure—a woman who couldn’t compete against her husband’s workaholic nature, who couldn’t entice him away for a smoldering-hot rendezvous.
More pain settled around her heart as she remembered she’d lost more than her husband’s attention in Barcelona. She’d also lost the child they had made together. Had she gone full-term, their little girl or boy would have been almost four months old by now.
She felt her lip trembling and fought back tears. She wanted to recall the good things about their marriage. She wanted to remember how well they’d gotten along in the beginning, how she would respond to just about anything when it came to him. His soft laugh, his touch, the sound of his breathing...that look he would give her when he wanted to make love.
She had seen that same look in his eyes today in the kitchen. She didn’t know what racy thoughts had been going through his mind, but her body had responded and a rush of sensations had flowed through her. Her hormones had surged to gigantic proportions and it would have been so easy to cross the room, slide onto his lap, curl into his arms and bury her face in the warmth of his chest. Then she would have kissed him the way she used to. Kissing him had the ability to make her all but moan out an orgasm. In fact, a few times she had done that very thing.
She had the satisfaction of knowing he wanted her. Although she was woman enough to admit she’d desired him, too. What she had to do was keep her desires at bay while continuing to stir up his. That was her game plan and she intended to stick to it. She would not get caught in her own trap.
But there was nothing wrong with getting wrapped up in memories while lying stretched out on a chaise longue with the breeze from the ocean caressing her skin. Memories were a lot safer than the real thing. With her eyes still closed, she vividly recalled the night when she and Matthew had come out here, naked and aroused, with only one thing on their minds.
They had gone to a polo match and returned home, barely making it up to their bedroom to strip off their clothes. And then he had swept her off her feet and carried her to the balcony. Even now she could recall how fast her heart had been beating and how her pulse had throbbed. Pretty similar to how she was feeling now, just thinking about it.
He’d reached out to touch her breasts and her stomach had automatically clenched in response. Then she had watched in heated lust as he’d leaned forward and used his tongue to capture a nipple between his lips and—
“Carmen? Why didn’t you answer when I knocked?”
She found herself staring into a pair of dark, sensuous eyes. His lips were so close to hers that it wouldn’t have taken much for him to lean in just a little closer and taste her. And then there was his scent—aftershave mingled with man—that began manipulating her senses in a way that could be deemed lethal.
Her eyes narrowed as she felt a warming sensation between her thighs. Matthew was crouched down over her. She fought to ignore the sensual currents that were rippling through her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sounding strained to her own ears.
His gaze continued to hold hers. “I knocked several times and you didn’t answer.”
The heat of his breath was like a warming balm to her lips. She was tempted to lick the fullness of his mouth from corner to corner. It didn’t exactly surprise her that she was thinking of doing such a thing, considering what she’d been thinking about just moments ago.
She slowly pulled herself up in a sitting position, causing him to move back, for which she was grateful. The last thing she needed right now was to be in close proximity to him. The temptation was too great. “And why were you knocking on the bedroom door when I told you I would be out here on the balcony reading?” she asked.
“I need to get my things moved to the guest room.” He paused a moment and said, “I noticed you were sleeping, but figured I could get my things without disturbing you. But then...”
She lifted a brow. “But then what?”
A sensual smile touched the corners of his lips when he said, “But then I heard you say my name in your sleep.”
She faltered for a minute, then quickly fought not to show any emotions as she swung her legs to the side to get up, causing him to back up a little more. She stared at him, exasperated, not sure what she should say. She decided not to say anything at all. What was the use in denying such a thing? It probably hadn’t been the first time she’d said his name in her sleep and more than likely it wouldn’t be the last. After all, he’d once had the ability to make her come just by breathing on her. In fact, he probably still could.
“Go ahead and get your things, Matthew. I’m awake now,” she said, breaking eye contact with him to stand and gaze toward the ocean. He could think whatever he liked about hearing her say his name. She figured all kinds of thoughts were running through his mind—he was probably trying to figure out the best way to get into her panties right now.
She glanced back at him and her nipples immediately hardened when she noticed how he was staring at her outfit. She had changed into a strapless terry-cloth romper and it fit real tight over her backside. She knew just how much he enjoyed looking at that part of her anatomy.
He also used to compliment her on what he said was a gorgeous pair of legs. And now he was scanning her from head to toe, and concentrating on the areas in between. He wasn’t trying to hide his interest.
“Is there a problem, Matthew?” she asked, watching his gaze shift from her legs to her mouth. Seeing his eyes linger there ignited a burning sensation low and deep in her belly.
His survey then slowly moved up to her eyes. A flash of panic ripped through her when she recognized the let me make you come look in his eyes. She felt her body succumbing without her consent.
“There’s no problem, if you don’t think there’s one, Carmen,” he said throatily, her name rolling sensuously off his tongue.
“I don’t,” she replied, easing back down on the chaise longue, knowing he was watching her every move. She stretched in a way that caused his attention to be drawn to her backside and legs once again. “I’m sure you don’t need my help packing up your things.”
Too late she realized she’d said the wrong thing. His expression went from hot to furious. She knew he was recalling the last time she’d said those very words to him, when he was moving out of their home in Malibu.
“You’re right, Carmen. I didn’t need your help then and I don’t need it now.”