The Real Deal Page 8

  “That’s not what I meant, Betty. Please, I don’t want to offend you. That’s not my intent. Why would I want to bring you here just to piss you off?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t. I just–hey, what are you doing?” She stopped mid-sentence as he placed his hand lightly on her knee and started to move it slowly up the length of her thigh. He half expected her to swat it away and was greatly relieved when she only looked at him.

  “I realize this is going to sound crazy, but we aren’t alone here.”

  “Of course we aren’t,” she said with annoyance, “why would we be? We’re in a very crowded restaurant. You make it sound like we’re in a James Bond movie or something. I hate to say it, but life just isn’t that interesting.”

  "I understand that, but in this case, I'm being serious. We've got a couple of paparazzi sitting at the bar, staking us out. Feel free to look if you like, although you might not spot them. These guys are good."

  He sat back and took another sip of his wine while she swiveled in her chair. While she was busy trying to spot the photogs he had long ago learned to spot at first glance, he took the opportunity to watch the way her body moved in that dress. The twisting had her cleavage spilling out just enough that he got a real mental picture of what she would look like with nothing on at all. It was an impressive enough image that he was glad she could only see his upper half and he allowed his hand to move up her leg a little further. For the purposes of keeping up appearances, of course.

  “Really? Those guys?”

  “Yes, really.”

  "But where are their cameras? If they're supposed to take pictures for a living, I think they're going to need cameras."

  “They have them, believe me. They’re just waiting for something good to snap a picture of. Which is what we’re going to give them.”

  “What? What do you–?”

  He leaned forward, using the hand that wasn't on her leg to gently cup the back of her neck. He pulled her towards him, slowly enough to allow her time to pull away if that's what she chose to do. He kept her eyes locked with his. Showtime. That was the message he wanted her to get. That, after all, was why they were there. Now they would both find out if she was really up to the job. His lips met hers lightly, so lightly that he wasn't completely sure they were touching at all. He pulled her closer and their lips locked for real, his firm and sure and hers registering the surprise she'd managed not to show on her face. At first, anyway. After a second or two passed, though, it wasn't only him doing the kissing anymore. With no small amount of surprise, he felt her kissing him back, slowly at first and then with more urgency. The fact that this was only an act left his mind completely. He was just kissing a woman he wanted very, very badly, and that was the only thing that mattered to him. He didn't come back to reality until the sound of loud voices started up by the bar, accompanied by the unmistakable bright light of camera flashes. He pulled away from Betty reluctantly and nodded in the direction of the exponentially expanding group of paparazzi.

  “Looks like we did it.” He grinned at her. “Welcome to your crazy new world.”

  Chapter Eight

  Betty Ingrid

  BETTY HADN'T LED A sheltered life by any stretch of the imagination. She had been taking care of herself for a long time and had experienced all of the hardships and opportunities that kind of life gave a girl. Even so, nothing in the twenty-six years of her life compared to the series of events that took place after seeing if she could spot the photographers watching them at the bar. She had had time to think that it was like playing a grown-up version of Where's Waldo before everything else had been eclipsed by Zach and his kiss. She had been kissed before, sure, but never in her life like this. It was a kiss she fell into, one that made everything else insignificant. His tongue ran ever so lightly along her bottom lip, nibbled it, and her entire body tingled from head to toe. She felt a jolt of electricity shoot straight between her thighs, and she had to work to avoid moaning out loud. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. He pulled away and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “There,” he said in a husky voice that made the tingling in her grow, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Who said anything about bad?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  "Good. I don't know if you're playing along right now or not, but if you are you're doing one hell of a job. Nothing about that kiss felt pretend to me. It was an Oscar-worthy performance."

  “Glad to hear it lived up to your standards,” she answered breathlessly, tugging on the hem of her skirt and trying to make herself look somewhat presentable. She felt, for lack of a better word, exposed.

  “It did. Maybe a little too well, actually. I think, if you don’t mind, we might want to make a hasty exit. I trust that having dinner delivered to your apartment will make up for the abrupt ending.”

  “Delivered to my apartment? No way. You can’t do that, that’s insane!”

  “I can, actually, and I will. It’s the least I can do. Now please, let’s go before they get too out of hand. It’s been known to happen.”

  She had some questions about what the photographers getting "out of hand" might look like but clearly, it wasn't the right time. That might not have mattered to her, it often wasn't, but her head was still spinning from the kiss that had ended too quickly. When she stood, she was glad to have Zach's hand to hold. With her legs as shaky as they were she wasn't sure she would have stayed upright without him to use for support. He walked the two of them quickly out of the restaurant, and she was stunned to find even more interested parties waiting for them outside. In the steadily deepening dark of the night, the flashes of the cameras felt like a series of mini assaults, and she used her free arm to shield her face from their glare. She thought again about the things she had just said to him during their dinner about how easy his life was. She maintained that having boatloads of money was always going to be easier than not having enough but had he asked her if she wanted to amend her opinion in that moment she would almost certainly have said yes. She couldn't imagine having people follow her around like this, just showing up whenever they felt like it, taking her image like it didn't belong to her. The only reason she had been able to stay calm, cool, and collected was that he had remained that way and whatever else he might or might not be, that was admirable. More than admirable, it was sexy. She kept waiting for the thrilling pulses shooting through her body to go away but instead they only got more intense. By the time he pulled her into his big, fancy limo, another thing she had a hell of a difficult time wrapping her head around, she was practically panting.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her gently, with genuine concern. “I know that can be a lot. It takes some getting used to.”

  “I don’t think I ever could. Get used to it, I mean.”

  “Are you considering backing out? Have you decided it’s too much?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. I’m not a quitter. I’m just saying that maybe I underestimated a couple of things.”

  “It’s human nature. I don’t think anything of it.”

  “Okay, well good, I guess. But no, I’m not backing out. We made a deal.”

  "Right. We did." He took her hand, snaking his fingers through her own and holding them tightly enough that he could feel his heart beating through his skin. His thumb caressed her palm, and she gasped. "Matt? Will you do me a favor please?" She glanced quickly in the direction of the open partition with surprise. She had forgotten almost as soon as they had climbed into the car that they weren't alone, and she felt guilty like she had been caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. At the same time, her entire body was buzzing with all of the possibilities contained in that one request.

  "Sure thing, Mr. Jameson. Sounds like a plan. Anywhere, in particular, you would like me to go?"

  “No. Not for now. I would like you to drive.”

  "Yes, sir. Any other requests?"

  “Only one. Turn the music up. Turn it up loud.�
��

  There was no reply this time other than the music and the small, smooth sound of the partition going up, and it was like the two of them existed in their own world. The windows were tinted so that the outside world was only an afterthought and the partition was a solid black barrier. There was nothing but the two of them and the feeling of his body heat melting into her own. She hardly wanted to breathe, lest he hear a shuddering in the sound of that breath. It was a job, only a job and nothing more, and she tried desperately to remind herself of that but with all of her senses heightened the way they were, it was almost impossible.

  “Betty?”

  The sound of her name coming from his lips sounded different than it had been before. There was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but if she were to try, she would say it sounded a lot like need. His hand moved to her leg again, and the warmth of it burned into her skin. She took a deep breath and looked at him, hoping she didn't look as undone as she felt.

  “What is it, Zach? What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know. Touching you. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “There’s nobody watching now. We don’t have to keep up appearances.”

  "You're right; we don't."

  “Then what–?”

  “Because I want to. Because I think you want me to, too.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her again, but this time was different than it was in the restaurant. This time, with nobody watching, there was nothing to stop them from going further. She had a split second to make the decision to stop him. She could do that. There was no doubt in her mind that he would stop the instant she gave the word and wouldn't try anything more. The thing that kept playing through her mind over and over again was the part where he'd told her to keep an open mind. This was business, only a means to finishing her degree so that she would never have to make a decision like this one again. She knew that, but it didn't feel like a job. It felt like something she'd never had before and something she might never have again. She was always in such control over herself, always worked so hard, and this time, just this one time, she wanted to let go. She didn't tell him to stop, didn't move his hand off of her leg. Instead, her hands moved up to his hair, hesitant at first and then with more assurance. She felt him wanting to stop and ask her if it was okay, and she couldn't let that happen. If he did, the spell allowing her this indulgence would break and she would have to go back to being the girl that she was the rest of the time. She didn't want to be every day Betty. She wanted to be fantasy Betty and screw the consequences.

  "Here," she gasped, as his mouth broke from her lips and trailed along the side of her neck, "I want you to touch me here." She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast, crying out a little when he squeezed. He groaned and tore at the dress, freeing both breasts to the chilly whir of the limo's air conditioner. Her nipples grew instantly hard, and his mouth found them greedily, sucking until she thought she would scream. Her hands flew to the buttons of his shirt, heedless of the fact that it was probably the price of the average American's vacation, and tore at them. When his chest was exposed, she marveled at it like it was a genuine work of art. His muscles were lean and perfect, his skin taut and tanned. He had more than a six-pack, he had an eight-pack. It was like she was undressing a model or something and he was not only letting her do it, he wanted her to do it. He wanted her.

  “Now,” he growled, pushing her back onto the swanky leather seat of the limo, “I want you right now.”

  He spread her legs wide, then reared up and unbuckled his belt, freeing himself and letting her see how big he was, which was big enough to make her a little nervous. But then his hands were up her pretty new dress and finding the part of her that ached for him most, and she wasn't worried anymore. She didn't have enough thought left in her brain to be worried because her entire body was exploding with the sensation of his touch. His fingers found an instant, perfect rhythm, moving along her clit and then sliding inside her, then repeating the whole thing over again. Her back arched, her hips bucking more and more violently with each movement he made. She was right on the edge of giving herself over to the promise of orgasm when his hand drew back.

  “No!” she cried out, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him indignantly, “don’t stop!”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he grinned, “I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

  He took his prick in one hand, and with the other, he pushed her gently back onto the seat. When he guided himself inside of her, her eyes slipped closed, and her head rocked back and forth as if of its own volition. She felt his weight shift on top of her and her legs tightened around him. His hips rocked, slowly at first and then picking up speed rapidly. She gasped, wondering vaguely if the driver could hear them and then decided she didn't much care. She'd wanted to kill him when he'd stopped the gentle stroking of his fingers, but now she found that her body was still primed and ready for her pleasure. The feeling of it started in her toes and sped up the rest of her body until the whole length of her trembled. When she came, she screamed and then shoved her fist into her mouth to dampen the sound. Zach kept pumping into her, his hips moving more and more wildly until they were bucking, his skin slapping against hers over and over again.

  “Please,” she said over and over again, asking for something she didn’t even know how to articulate. “Please, Zach, please.”

  He stiffened, all of the veins in his muscular forearms popping out, and then fell on top of her. The two of them lay that way together for a while, the limo continuing its path around the city like nothing out of the ordinary was going on in the back seat. For all Betty knew what the two of them had just done wasn't unusual for people who lived the limo life. When Zach finally got off of her, he helped her back to a sitting position, straightening out her dress in a gesture that struck her as funny. She started to giggle, did her best to stop it, and then giggled anyway.

  “What? What’s funny?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

  "Nothing, I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh."

  "You don't have to apologize for laughing. You don't have to apologize for anything, as far as I'm concerned. I'm only wondering... look, if I'm being honest, I'm wondering if it's something I did wrong. Something you didn't enjoy."

  “No, I promise you. Nothing like that. It’s just the way you adjusted my dress. It was very gentlemanly of you.”

  “Ah,” he smiled, “I see. I can be that way sometimes. Speaking of which, is there anything I can get you? Anything you want before I drop you off back home?”

  "Um, I don't think so. Maybe some water? I wouldn't ask for something like that normally, but this isn't a normal car, is it?"

  “No, I guess it isn’t. And as far as water goes, I can absolutely do that. All I need to know is if you would prefer sparkling or still.”

  "Of course you have both," she said with a small sigh and a smile. After he handed her water, a small bottle of San Pellegrino, there was very little left for the two of them to do. After the strange way their interaction had accelerated, going from zero to sixty in no time at all, Betty wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel a little foolish. She had made such a big stink about taking the moral high ground, both outside of The Bellevue and last night on the phone. Then she had gone and slept with him at literally the first opportunity that presented itself. Now she wasn't sure where she stood, not on anything. She only knew that what she had just done with Zach had been the most ill-advised and most delicious experience of her life. They rode together in silence, Betty looking pointedly out of the window and wondering what in the world that was supposed to mean.

  “I believe this is you.”

  “What? Oh! Yes, it is. I’m still not sure how you knew where my apartment was.”

  “Do you want to know?”

  “You know what?” she said contemplatively, studying his impassive face, “I don’t think I do. Thank you for a very eventful evening, Zac
h.”

  “You’re very welcome. The first of many, I hope.”

  “That was the arrangement,” she answered, looking down at her twisting hands to avoid looking into his face. It was ridiculous how nervous she felt. This was only a hiccup in an otherwise clearly laid out arrangement. Nevertheless, she couldn’t seem to shake the butterflies in her stomach. When she finally did look at him, more because she couldn’t help it than because she wanted to, he was frowning. It was a small frown and something a lot of people probably wouldn’t have noticed at all, but she was a very perceptive girl. She kind of hated being a waitress but she was good at it, mostly because she watched the people around her. She anticipated not only what they felt but also what they needed. That was a skill that went a long way with almost everyone.

  “That’s true, it was. That being said, I would much prefer it if you didn’t mention said agreement over and over again. It kind of spoils the fun, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know,” she said confusedly, “I guess so.”

  "I believe it does. I also believe that if we're going to be spending all of this time together, we might as well make it as enjoyable as possible. Would you agree with that?"

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Good. Now, Betty, only one more question.”

  "Yes? What is it?" She didn't want to answer any more questions. She only wanted to be alone so that she could try and make some sense of what had just happened.

  “Would you like me to come up with you?”

  “What? What do you mean?” She didn’t know what she’d thought he was going to ask but it sure wasn’t that. It threw her off guard again, made her feel on edge. Every time she thought she had this man figured out he turned around and did something she would never have predicted. It was unnerving, to say the least.