Page 23 of Desire
Chapter Eight
Ichecked into my home-living suite at Park Royale Hotel and didn’t have to pay a dime. The show would foot the bill for the first three months, after which I would have the choice to live there permanently at a reduced rate of $8,000 per month—fucking yikes—or move.I thought I would move eventually, but I didn’t know for sure, considering that living full-time in New York City felt as if I were deciding to reside on a different planet. The energy didn’t jibe with my soul. I wanted something slower and less hectic. However, I had no time to ponder and work through the restless emotions soaring through me.
Kylie called as soon as I set my purse on thesofa. We planned to meet for a late lunch in the hotel’s restaurant after my appointment with Louis Ramsey, the fashion designer Rachel’s assistant had arranged to dress me for the night’s gala.
Ramsey arrived before my call ended with Kylie. He and his assistants rolled in six racks and four bins full of dresses, accessories, and shoes for me to choose from. It felt like a tedious situation.I was done with the special treatment, and truthfully, after the day I’d had, all I wanted was to be at home in Philadelphia, in my pajamas, while working on my next story, which did not involve Jasper Christmas. The fact that I wasn’t dazzled by all the pretty garments made it easier to select what was right for me. It took me less than fifteen minutes to choose a dress.
“I would lambastyou for being too quick if you hadn’t chosen correctly,” Louis said.
I selected a long, sleek golden gown made of silk with a sexy, low cowl neck and spaghetti straps. The material hugged my curves with a sultry ease.
I let Louis and his team select my jewelry, cocktail purse, coat, and shoes. I said yes to everything, and it didn’t take them long to figure out that I really didn’tcare what I wore for the evening. Hell, I would’ve been fine showing up in a pair of jeans and a sweater. But nevertheless, leaving my look up to the professionals had served me well. My head-to-toe look was pretty stunning.
“We’ll send hair and makeup three hours before—” Ramsey began.
I shot a hand up. “No.” I shook my head adamantly. “No hair and makeup. I can manage.”
He leaned back as if what I’d said had been the shock of his life. “None?”
“No. None.”
Ramsey and his team raised their eyebrows, looking at each other as if they had to work through how to comprehend what I was saying. He didn’t argue with me, although I could tell he wanted to. I wanted no more poking and prodding. Plus, I hated wearing so much makeup that I didn’t look like myself.Finally, Ramsey and his team rolled out the same way they had rolled in. But less than a minute later, after I’d flopped wearily on top of the bed, someone knocked on the door.
I looked around to see if Ramsey had left something behind. Nope, he’d taken everything. I figured it was Kylie, who probably saw the parade leave my room and, like me, was starving and ready to eat lunch.
I shuffled out of the bedroom and opened the door. My jaw dropped.
“Hello, Holly.”
It was Jasper Christmas, looking delicious in a pair of black slacks and a black crew-neck sweater under a gray ski jacket. His blue-green eyes watched me with intensity, and I released a breath after forgetting to breathe.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
He appeared nervous as he glanced across his left shoulder. “Are you going to let me in?”
No.At least that was what my common sense wanted to say. Instead, I stepped back and gave him space to enter.
As soon as I closed the door, my back was pressed against the wood. Jasper’s tongue was in my mouth, and his lips were feverishly devouring mine.
My head spun as his kiss setmy body on fire.Where am I? Who am I? Am I even existing on earth as my head floats higher and higher?
“Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he whispered thickly while kissing me and pressing his full erection against my pubis.
“Don’t you ever talk to me like that,” I said breathlessly.
Suddenly, I was being cradled and carried. He took me to the bedroom and droppedme on top of the bed. Holy shit, I didn’t know which way was up. My natural pragmatic self was lost inside me, but I could hear her attempting to jar me into sanity.
“Shit,” he said as his mouth voraciously devoured my neck.
“Wait, wait, wait.” I was able to roll off the bed and onto my feet. My head felt woozy. “No.” I could hardly take my eyes off his magnificent bulge. But I hadto get a grip. We couldn’t keep using sex to mitigate the many issues that existed in our relationship or lack thereof.
He stood, and we were face-to-face. “I miss you.”
“That’s your fault, not mine.”
“Damn it, Holly. I apologized for hurting you.”
“It seems you’re always having to apologize for hurting me,” I said.
