Chapter 3
I followed him through to the kitchen, where I was surprised to discover that he'd cooked for us. I sipped some wine as he dished up pasta, meatballs and salad. "You cooked that all from scratch?" I asked. I knew I hadn't included ready made ones in his food order.
He blushed slightly. "I find cooking relaxes me. I was pretty angry this afternoon, so I came back here and took it out on some steak." He watched me take a mouthful. I groaned as the flavours hit my palate.
"This is gorgeous," I told him. He beamed his film-star smile at the compliment.
"I'm a man of many talents," he murmured. My belly squeezed at the inference. I mentally slapped myself, and resolved to get a grip.
We chatted about my 'outing' on the gossip sites that afternoon, with Henry confessing that he'd been reading what had been written. "That must be quite weird, having people watch your every move. It'd drive me nuts. It's why I've never wanted to be famous," I told him.
"I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. I just regard it as the downside of my job. I always feel sorry for the woman I'm with though, because every detail is scrutinised, everything criticised."
"Someone on IMDB said I had 'man hands'," I sniffed, "I wasn't too impressed with that assessment." He laughed, and grabbed one of my hands across the table, examining it closely. Compared to his enormous paws, mine looked tiny.
"You have beautiful hands. Delicate and pretty, there's nothing manly about them," he said, keeping hold of it. I left it there, enjoying the sensation of him holding it. He smiled tentatively, and took a sip of wine. "You shouldn't ever be bothered about the opinions of people on the Internet. They'd criticise even if you were a top supermodel. Even I get pulled apart if I take a mildly squinty picture."
"Does that ever happen though?" I teased.
"Absolutely. I get accused of being bald if my hair's gone a bit fluffy, and anytime I've been snapped looking mildly cheesed off is interpreted as my closeted lifestyle getting on top of me. Nobody would ever believe it's because I got a parking ticket, or missed a call."
"Well, I'm hoping they'll all shut up about me soon," I said, although glancing down at our entwined hands, it didn't appear that he was giving up anytime soon.
"My last two girlfriends couldn't cope with it. After a while they got paranoid, and upset at all the vicious comments. At least you're in the business, and understand what to expect."
I reeled at his statement. It sounded as though he thought I'd be girlfriend material. I wondered if I was reading too much into it. "I'm not usually on that side of the camera though. I'm normally the one steering the gossip. I'm not sure about being on the receiving end." I gently pulled my hand away and continued eating.
After eating, we took our wine glasses and the remainder of the bottle into the sitting room. Henry pressed play on his sound system, and the strains of Adele singing that she nearly had it all, softly filled the room. I sat down on the large, squashy sofa. Henry sat next to me, tucking his feet underneath himself, and turning to face me. His close proximity seemed to have it's usual effect, making me slightly light-headed.
"So what's my agenda for tomorrow?" Henry asked, snapping me out of my dream-like daze and back into work mode.
"Bob's picking you up at seven for your training, then the Men's Health shoot in Clerkenwell directly afterwards. You have dinner planned with your agent at eight tomorrow night at Nobu."
He groaned, "So that's pretty much all day taken care of. Am I diarised like that every day?"
"Yep. You're in demand at the moment. Ride it and enjoy it, you'd be more worried if you were sitting in here every day with the phone not ringing."
"I know, it just doesn't leave much time for...fun though." He traced his finger up my bare arm, sending tingles through my entire body. I shivered with the sensation. He was watching my reactions intently through hooded eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing to me. Without speaking, he leaned over to kiss me, his cool lips grazing mine, gently at first.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting mine in a sensual dance. He tasted of red wine and Henry, a heady combination. I felt him tug me towards him, and his muscular, powerful arms enveloped me. He felt strong, secure, as his chest pressed against mine, overwhelming me with his masculinity. I ran my fingers through his thick curls, marvelling at how soft and luxurious they were, while our tongues engaged in an erotic dance.
Breathless, I pulled back. "We shouldn't be doing this," I murmured. "I'm your handler, and this could make things...difficult."
He smiled, "I'd never let that happen, and yes, we should be doing this....and more."
I squealed as he pushed me onto my back, and slid his body over mine. He nestled one leg between my shamelessly open ones, and threaded his fingers through mine, to hold my hands beside my head. I could feel his heart beating as he kissed me. Mine was thumping so hard I thought it would leap straight out of my chest. He pressed tiny kisses along my jaw, before working his way back to my lips. Every cell in my body seemed to ignite, as though, like sleeping beauty, they'd been dormant all my life, and suddenly awakened. I ached for him to make love to me, to feel him inside me and to see lust in his sparkling blue eyes.
He released my hand, so he could stroke my face. He pulled back to look at me. "You are just so beautiful, so pretty," he murmured, before leaning in for another kiss. I was totally helpless in the face of his seduction, captured by his mesmerising presence. He ran his hand down my side, over my ribs in firm, confident strokes, culminating in him cupping my breast. 'Hmm, so Henry's a breast man', I thought.
He shifted slightly, making me aware of the hardness encased in his jeans. I marvelled that I could have such an effect on him, as I felt the heat radiating off him in waves. I breathed in his lovely scent, he smelt of fresh water and body wash, subtle but unique. His kisses became more urgent, as his hands roamed over me. "I really want to make love to you, he murmured between kisses. I nodded my assent, too nervous to speak.
I was shaking as he led me upstairs to his bed, not because I didn't want what was about to happen-I wanted it badly, wanted him. I was scared. Scared of being naked in front of him, and terrified of being gauche or clumsy.
He must have sensed my reticence, as he took total control of me-of us. He undressed me slowly, caressing each piece of newly exposed skin, kissing me all over, seemingly delighted with everything he uncovered.
Now I knew that he had a finely toned body, as I'd seen enough shirtless pictures of him. I was totally unprepared for the first sight of him naked. The angels must have blessed him the moment he was conceived, as he was male perfection, better than a Greek god. He smirked at my shocked expression, no doubt not the first time a woman has gazed at him in total awe.
He took total control of my body, making love with both passion, and tenderness. He was more sexually confident than I, and showed me exactly what my body was capable of, taking me to heights I'd never before experienced. He made love to me three times that night, with little interludes between, where we would talk, tease, and learn about each other's lives. As the sun began to peek through the blinds, I dozed off in his arms.
