Public Secrets Part 73

"I was just thinking about Bri. I'm worried about him."

"You're a good friend, honey." She played light, quick kisses over his

face. "That's one of the things I love most about you."

He drew her closer, as always stunned and delighted to hear her say she

loved him. She was so beautiful with her big brown eyes and

kewpie-doll mouth. Her breathy voice was like music she played only for

him.

She only pressed closer when he ran his hands up her legs to knead the

firm flesh of her b.u.t.tocks. Her body was like a dream, long and lush

and tanned as golden as a peach. When she shuddered, he felt like a

king.

"I need you, Angie."

"Then take me."

She let her head fall back, looking at him from under carefully darkened

lashes. Slowly, keeping her eyes on him, she reached down, and taking

the hem of her s.h.i.+rt, pulled it up and over her head. In the sunlight,

she stood erotically naked, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rosily tipped and as golden as

the rest of her. He kept his senses long enough to pull her inside the

doors before he lowered her to the floor.

She let him do whatever he liked, enjoying most of it, adding a few

calculated groans and cries when she thought it appropriate. It wasn't

that he didn't excite her. He did, in a mild sort of way. She would

have preferred it if he'd been a bit more forceful, put a few bruises on

her.

But P.M."s chunky drummer's hands were almost reverent as they skimmed

over her. Even when his breath began to chug and the sweat began to

roll, he treated her like fine gla.s.s, too considerate to put his frill

weight on her, too polite, even in pa.s.sion, to ram himself into her and

make her cries sincere.

He took her gently, with a steady rhythm that brought her just inches

from full satisfaction. He lay on her only a moment, while he collected

himself and she studied the glossy wood of the ceiling. Ever mindful of

his weight, he rolled aside and cus.h.i.+oned her head with his arm.

"Oh, that was wonderful." She stroked his damp, pale chest. Always

practical, she knew she could finish herself off when she went upstairs.

"You're the best, honey. The very best."

"I love you, Angie." He let his hand linger in her hair. This was what

he wanted, he realized. All that crazed, nameless s.e.x had never been

for him. He wanted to know, when he went on the road, that there was

someone waiting for him, at home, or in those miserable hotel rooms. He

wanted what Brian had.

Not Bev, P.M. a.s.sured himself on a painful twinge of disloyalty. But a

wife, a family, a home. With Angie, he could have it all.

"Angie. Will you marry me?"

She went very still. It was everything she'd hoped for, and it was

happening. She could already see the casting agents scrambling for

her-and the huge white house in Beverly Hills. The smile lit her face.

She nearly laughed with it. Then, taking a deep breath, she s.h.i.+fted.

There were tears in her eyes when she looked down at him.

"Do you mean it? Do you really want me?"